mind,” she told him. “I’ll handle it myself.”
She stormed into the house and emerged again a moment later with a toaster sized cardboard box with the word “Amazon” emblazoned on all sides, a sharpie, and a roll of duct tape. She scrawled the word “mail” across the box in large, block letters and copied over it again and again until it was bold enough for her taste and then drew a square around all the Amazon’s and colored them in so they wouldn’t confuse the issue of what the box was for.
Joe watched her intently, a small, amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She placed the box on top of the listing post and tried to tape it down, but as soon as she released it to grab the tape roll, it fell off. She looked up at Joe and he smiled encouragingly, giving her a thumbs-up sign. She clenched her teeth and propped the box on the post, standing beside it and letting it lean against her chest for support while she pulled out a strip of tape. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees overhead and sent the box tumbling out into the road. Sighing heavily, she rounded it up, pulled out several long strips of tape, stuck them to her leg, gripped one of the box’s flaps with her teeth, steadied it with her upper arm, and managed to get a piece of tape on it before it fell again. Once it was affixed, she went over and around it several times with the tape, careful not to cover the word “mail”, and ended with a long spiral down the post until she was sure it was secure. She ripped the end free of the roll and slapped it down smooth with the heel of her hand.
Joe finally moved. He moseyed over to the thick underbrush on the far side of the drive and kicked around for a minute before he found what he was searching for. He bent over and came up with a rock the size of a watermelon. He cradled it in his arms like a baby and carried it over to the mailbox. Using his foot, he pushed the post straight and dropped the rock with a thud at its base, shifting it with a few judicious kicks until it acted as a prop, holding the post in a more or less upright position.
“Suit yourself,” he told her, admiring his work. Straightening the post had the effect of making the cardboard box look horribly crooked. “But I’m not sure Tina will deliver to cardboard. She takes her job mighty serious.”
“This,” she motioned to the box with a flourish, “is not me taking care of it. It’s temporary.”
“I’ll pass that along to Tina,” he assured her. “I reckon she’ll be okay with it in the short term.”
“Thanks,” she told him sarcastically. “I appreciate the help.”
“No trouble,” he smiled his enragingly slow, easy smile, completely unperturbed by her tone.
“Not for you,” she agreed. She snatched up the duct tape and the sharpie and took them into the cabin, dropping them on the dining room table and grabbing her purse. She slung it over her shoulder and walked back out to where Joe had resumed his previous stance, leaning against the side of his beat up old truck, one bronze, well-muscled arm draped lazily along the rim of the bed, the blond highlights in his close cropped hair nearly blinding in the morning sun, his sky blue eyes half-closed in languid contemplation of nothing much. She suddenly realized why she’d recognized him when they’d first met. He was the spitting image of the new James Bond.
“Where’s the nearest Lowe’s?” She asked him tersely, hands on her hips. She was aware that she didn’t have any cause to be angry with him, but fuming at someone made her feel better and as people were constantly reminding her, Joe was handy.
“Knoxville, I guess,” he told her after a moments consideration, “or maybe over the border in Asheville, but there’s a regular hardware store in town. What’re you after?”
“Do they have plumbing?” She asked, ignoring his question.
“Your commode is brand new,” he told her. “I replaced it myself not two weeks
She stormed into the house and emerged again a moment later with a toaster sized cardboard box with the word “Amazon” emblazoned on all sides, a sharpie, and a roll of duct tape. She scrawled the word “mail” across the box in large, block letters and copied over it again and again until it was bold enough for her taste and then drew a square around all the Amazon’s and colored them in so they wouldn’t confuse the issue of what the box was for.
Joe watched her intently, a small, amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She placed the box on top of the listing post and tried to tape it down, but as soon as she released it to grab the tape roll, it fell off. She looked up at Joe and he smiled encouragingly, giving her a thumbs-up sign. She clenched her teeth and propped the box on the post, standing beside it and letting it lean against her chest for support while she pulled out a strip of tape. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees overhead and sent the box tumbling out into the road. Sighing heavily, she rounded it up, pulled out several long strips of tape, stuck them to her leg, gripped one of the box’s flaps with her teeth, steadied it with her upper arm, and managed to get a piece of tape on it before it fell again. Once it was affixed, she went over and around it several times with the tape, careful not to cover the word “mail”, and ended with a long spiral down the post until she was sure it was secure. She ripped the end free of the roll and slapped it down smooth with the heel of her hand.
Joe finally moved. He moseyed over to the thick underbrush on the far side of the drive and kicked around for a minute before he found what he was searching for. He bent over and came up with a rock the size of a watermelon. He cradled it in his arms like a baby and carried it over to the mailbox. Using his foot, he pushed the post straight and dropped the rock with a thud at its base, shifting it with a few judicious kicks until it acted as a prop, holding the post in a more or less upright position.
“Suit yourself,” he told her, admiring his work. Straightening the post had the effect of making the cardboard box look horribly crooked. “But I’m not sure Tina will deliver to cardboard. She takes her job mighty serious.”
“This,” she motioned to the box with a flourish, “is not me taking care of it. It’s temporary.”
“I’ll pass that along to Tina,” he assured her. “I reckon she’ll be okay with it in the short term.”
“Thanks,” she told him sarcastically. “I appreciate the help.”
“No trouble,” he smiled his enragingly slow, easy smile, completely unperturbed by her tone.
“Not for you,” she agreed. She snatched up the duct tape and the sharpie and took them into the cabin, dropping them on the dining room table and grabbing her purse. She slung it over her shoulder and walked back out to where Joe had resumed his previous stance, leaning against the side of his beat up old truck, one bronze, well-muscled arm draped lazily along the rim of the bed, the blond highlights in his close cropped hair nearly blinding in the morning sun, his sky blue eyes half-closed in languid contemplation of nothing much. She suddenly realized why she’d recognized him when they’d first met. He was the spitting image of the new James Bond.
“Where’s the nearest Lowe’s?” She asked him tersely, hands on her hips. She was aware that she didn’t have any cause to be angry with him, but fuming at someone made her feel better and as people were constantly reminding her, Joe was handy.
“Knoxville, I guess,” he told her after a moments consideration, “or maybe over the border in Asheville, but there’s a regular hardware store in town. What’re you after?”
“Do they have plumbing?” She asked, ignoring his question.
“Your commode is brand new,” he told her. “I replaced it myself not two weeks
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