A Regular Joe: A Regular Joe / Mr. Right Under Her Nose. Carol Finch
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at the store, she could make time to fulfill Pops’s request. True, she would meet herself coming and going, but what else was new?
“Okay, Pops, you’ve got a deal,” she told him.
The old man leaned over to give her a high five. “Thanks, Shortcake. This means a lot to me.”
“I can see that. Fortunately, I received a directive from corporate headquarters this morning, allowing me to hire an assistant. I filled the position immediately. Joe Gray is skilled in woodcrafting and—”
“Joe Gray? Never heard of him,” Pops broke in.
“He’s new in town. I rented the garage apartment to him,” she reported.
Pops’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who is this character? Where’s he from? What do you know about him?”
Mattie took a moment to gather her thoughts and realized that she really did know quite a lot about her new assistant, although they had only spent eight hours working together.
“He’s thirty-five, single. He is respectful and has excellent rapport with the customers because he’s knowledgeable about hobbies and crafts. He thoroughly enjoys working with his hands in the workroom, and he isn’t the least bit allergic to hard work. I had to remind him to take a break this morning and this afternoon.”
“Single?” Pops inquired interestedly.
Mattie rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t even think about playing matchmaker. You have too much on your plate already. Besides, Joe and I are business associates, and that is as far as the relationship can possibly go.”
“Baloney,” Pops said, then snorted. “Unless Joe is a serial killer on the loose and hiding out in Fox Hollow, he sounds like your type. Some guys around here feel threatened because you can handle a power tool with the best of them.”
“Thanks to you,” Mattie put in, grinning.
“But if this Joe person shares your common interests and is a decent sort of fellow, I say go for it. Unless there’s something offensive about him. Is there? Ugly as original sin maybe?”
Mattie chuckled. “Just the opposite. My female customers constantly ask for his assistance, just to get a close look at him.”
“He sounds perfect. A Mary Poppins of the male variety.”
“Except that he works for me,” Mattie repeated. “I’d have to fire him if I became interested in him. Either that or I’d have to resign. I can’t do that, not when you’ve just handed me a time-consuming project to perk up your senior citizen friends.”
“Oh yeah, there is that,” Pops mumbled. “But there isn’t a single patient here at the home who wouldn’t tell you to go for it if this Joe character suits you, even if you spend your time with him and the rest of us have to stare at these bare walls an extra month before the interior decorations arrive.”
“Pops,” she said warningly.
He flung up his hand. “Don’t ‘Pops’ me, kiddo. You aren’t getting any younger, and I want you to have a life like your grandmother and I had together. Now that’s something you shouldn’t pass up.”
Mattie squirmed uncomfortably. They’d had this little talk before—about a thousand times, thank you very much. Pops wanted her married and settled before he passed on. She understood that, but you just couldn’t rush love. It either happened or it didn’t. So far it hadn’t. She’d been infatuated once or twice in her early twenties, but the relationships had fizzled out because Mattie kept long hours and took on the responsibility of caring for Pops. Most men didn’t like to compete with Pops. He was such a lively, energetic character that he tended to steal the show when he was underfoot. Her boyfriends—what few she had—demanded that she choose between them and Pops. It was no contest. This man had taken her in, raised her, provided for her, taught her skills and encouraged her to pursue her artistic gift.
Mattie glanced at her watch when her stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch in order to decorate Alice Dawson’s living room. “I better go, Pops. I haven’t had supper yet.”
“Yeah, well, if you’d eaten at this cafeteria you wouldn’t feel as if you’d eaten, either,” he muttered. “I’m serious about those snacks. Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, pudding cups. Doesn’t matter to me. Just bring some junk food for me and my cronies.”
Mattie sighed, resigned to becoming an accomplice. “Okay, get a list from your gang and call me at the store tomorrow. I’ll bring the goodies Sunday evening when I come to visit.”
“You’re a doll, Shortcake. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Yes, Pops, immediately after you’d dragged me into another of your schemes.”
“Hey, you know I love ya, kiddo. You were always my very best sidekick. Now I have to settle for these yahoos at the home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you best of all.”
Mattie rose from the chair to give Pops an affectionate hug and kiss. “Love ya, Pops, even if you are the mastermind of the wildest bunch of codgers in Paradise Valley.”
“And you remember what I said about this Joe Gray person. If he’s worth your interest, then bend a few rules. I’m an advocate of that. You go, girl.”
Shaking her head at Pops’s adolescent jargon, Mattie exited. Pops was, without a doubt, the youngest seventy-eight-year-old in the country. He’d told her once that the only thing he regretted in life was not taking more risks—and he’d taken plenty of them, in her opinion. But when it came to her unwilling, unproductive attraction to Joe Gray, Mattie was hesitant.
No, she wasn’t going to fire Joe because she was interested in him, or because she really wanted to get to know him better. She needed him at the store, now more than ever—thanks to Pops’s latest mission. She’d put her feminine needs on hold years ago, after all. She could control her urges. She and Joe were going to be good buddies, best pals, she told herself sensibly. This was one time she was definitely not going to take Pops’s advice.
And that was all there was to that.
3
JOE WAS AMAZED at the number of customers who poured in and out of Hobby Hut on Saturday. When he commented to Mattie, she informed him that Fox Hollow was the closest community to the lake, and that cabin and cottage owners delighted in redecorating their weekend retreats. In addition, the retirees who lived in the wooded hills enjoyed keeping up with the latest seasonal fads.
Joe had never seen the likes of women, young and old, buying fall arrangements, Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations. When he and J.D. came up with the idea of the craft store that had expanded across the Midwest, they’d never dreamed of being so successful. But now that Joe was here in the trenches, watching these women, with a few reluctant husbands traipsing around the store, he realized why the business boomed. People liked to rearrange their homes by adding personal touches they could appreciate, then replacing decorations several times throughout the year. It was the variety that kept life new and interesting.
Twice during the day, the husbands of female shoppers had looked Joe up and down, then muttered “twinkie” half under their breaths. Joe probably should have been offended that he’d been categorized as effeminate because he actually liked creating knickknacks in the workshop and didn’t mind selling them. Once, however, he’d had to bite his tongue when a grumpy old man scowled and referred to the inventory at Hobby Hut as “sissy stuff no man would be caught dead selling, unless it was a last resort to keep the wolves from the door.”
Joe’s thoughts scattered like a flock of geese going airborne when Mattie scrunched in front of him at the cash register. “Here come the Zimmers for a refund,” she murmured confidentially. “Better let me handle them this first time so you’ll know how to deal with them. Lovable as they are, they get their kicks from trying to pull a fast one every now