His Kind of Perfection

As Stella approached the park this morning, she saw a small crowd gathered near the gazebo, and she could hear the distinct voice of Sue Marsden, loud and obviously angry about something—what else was new?

“We don’t like your kind,” Sue screeched. “And we don’t want you hanging around here. Sheriff Blaine will be here any minute.”

By now, Stella could see the person Sue was railing at—a scruffy, weather-beaten old man with a handmade sign that read: I CAN FIX ANYTHING BUT A BROKEN HEART.

A bum, maybe, but one with a sense of humor.

Stella liked him immediately.

“I don’t think there’s any law against looking for honest work, ma’am,” the man drawled. His voice sounded younger than the lines etched into his face implied.

“There are laws against vagrancy,” Sue snapped.

“Not a vagrant. Able to work and I got my home with me right there. But maybe you didn’t notice it, seeing as it’s done up in camouflage.”

The man pointed to an old pickup with what looked like a homemade camper built over the top and the bed. The whole thing had been splotched with black, drab green, yellow and orange paint.

When a chuckle went through the crowd, Sue’s face turned a vivid red. “You just get yourself back in your dilapidated truck and move on now, you hear?”

Sue’s tone irritated Stella even more than usual. There was no love lost between the two women. They tolerated each other, but kept their distance as much as possible in a town the size of Taylor’s Grove where nothing was too far from anything else. And Sue had never been on the receiving end of one of Stella’s loaves of bread.

So maybe it was Stella’s frustration with the mower or maybe it was just her always-present desire to see Sue Marsden get her comeuppance that spurred her forward.

“Can you fix a lawn mower?” Stella called from the back of the group.

The crowd turned in unison and parted to let her approach the stranger.

“Yes, ma’am. Small engines happen to be a specialty of mine.” He smiled, and despite the missing teeth, something about the look in his eyes made Stella believe he was telling the truth...and that he was hungry.

“I’ve got a mower that won’t run this morning.” She eyed him carefully. If he had alcohol or drug problems, she didn’t want to give him cash. “If you can get it going, I’ll feed you a nice lunch and send you off with the leftovers.”

“I’d be much obliged for that, ma’am.” He took his cap off and ran his hand through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “But I have food. It’s gas money I’m in need of.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sue interjected with a sneer.

Stella gave the woman a dismissive glance. “This doesn’t concern you, Sue. This is between me and Mr...?”

“Cyree, ma’am. Ray Cyree.” He started to offer his hand, then seemed to think better of it and pulled it back, clutching his cap tighter.

Stella was relieved. He didn’t appear to have bathed in several days...or weeks. “Well, Mr. Cyree. Seeing as how you should first know what you’re getting into, maybe it would be better to negotiate the terms after you’ve examined the mower?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Sue protested. “He could be an ax murderer, and you’re going to let him into your house?”

“I can stop by and check on you, Stella,” Tank Wallis promised, and a couple of others chimed in with “Me, too.”

“Thanks. There’ll be apple dumplings with ice cream waiting for anyone who wants to drop by this afternoon,” Stella announced, feeling assured that she and Mr. Cyree wouldn’t be alone for very long. “Shall we, Mr. Cyree?”

The stranger nodded. “Please, call me Ray. And, yeah, I’d like to get started.”

“Good. I’ll meet you there.” Stella pointed from the direction she’d come. “Down that street. Brick house at the corner of Walnut and Third. Lots of flowers.”

The two of them excused themselves, he headed to his truck, she to make the short walk home. Stella paused, wondering whether to disperse the loaves of friendship bread she carried, but decided against it.

The friend she’d just made looked as if he could use all six of them.

* * *

“HE DID A fabulous job of mowing and trimming, and following him to the filling station was the perfect solution. In fact, I’m cool with everything except the part where you invited him in.”

Bree couldn’t keep from smiling at her brother’s statement. Words, tone, delivery—all were exact duplicates of her dad’s. Everybody always commented on how much she and her twin brother looked like their dad. It was comforting to know he was still so much a part of them. Especially today. But it also made her ashamed of the news she was going to have to break to her mom and brother...which, of course, could wait until dinner was finished.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have done that if Tank hadn’t stopped by. Another roll?” Her mom held out the basket of homemade yeast rolls.

Gil took two, slathering them with butter. Mom waved them in Bree’s direction as a matter of etiquette, Bree supposed, knowing they’d be declined. She hadn’t deliberately ingested white flour—or white sugar, or anything with corn—in ten years, but her mom still acted as though her eating habits were a strange phase she would grow out of.

“Tank told me later he wouldn’t have known he was the same man,” her mom said, continuing her tale. “It was amazing the difference a shave and shower and some clean clothes made, even ones that were too big for him. I’m thinking I may cut off a pair of your dad’s trousers and hem them and have them waiting in case he takes me up on the offer to use the shower again.”

So, her mom was finally letting go of some of Dad’s things. That was a move in the right direction. Ten years was more than enough time to grieve.

“Dad would like that somebody finally got to use that shower, but I’m not sure he’d be as pleased about your having a naked man in the garage.” Bree laughed as the blush crept up her mom’s neck and into her face. The garage with the mudroom-plus-shower had always been a dream of her dad’s and a frivolous notion to her mom, who had finally relented, and the garage had been built. Ironically, it had been completed only a couple of weeks before he died, and he never got to use it. To Bree’s knowledge, yesterday’s shower, taken by a stranger, was the first time the shower stall had ever been occupied by anything but plants.

Gil laughed and directed a wink Bree’s way. “You’re not going to make naked men in the garage a habit, are you, Mom?”

“Oh, shush now, you two. Your conversation’s hardly appropriate for the dinner table.” She brandished the serving spoon from the carrots in both of their directions. But her stern expression gave way to a small grin. “But you should’ve seen Sue’s face when I hired the poor man. Lord, she looked like she was going to blow a gasket!”

Bree and Gil had seen that look on Sue’s face enough while they were growing up to picture it easily, and they shared a chuckle at their mom’s small victory.

The running feud between Stella Rice and Sue Marsden was a topic the people of Taylor’s Grove could always fall back on when nothing new was stirring. The fact that Sue Yager had been in love with Isaiah Rice, but Isaiah had been in love with Stella Gilbert had been common knowledge since the three had been in junior high school.

Even after she’d found what appeared to be true love with her husband, Ed, Sue Marsden was not one to let go of a grudge. The feud had continued.

Bree’s mom wiped her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of her iced tea. “But, enough of this. What’s going on with y’all? How’s work?”

Bree avoided the subject for a little while longer by stuffing a forkful of yellow squash into her mouth. She nodded at Gil to go first if he had any news. The big grin that broke out on his face said he did...and it was wonderful. So, while she adored her brother and wished for good things to come to him, another part of her brain pouted that sometimes his timing really sucked.

“John Dunn is looking to open a gym between Paducah and Murray. I told him about Dad’s building, and he seemed really interested.”

Her brother’s news rendered Bree momentarily speechless, but it brought a delighted gasp from her mom. “Oh, Gil. That’s terrific!”

The building in Benton that had housed Isaiah Rice’s insurance business had been leased to his partner for the first six years after their dad’s death. But then, Ralph had retired and moved to Florida, leaving the building vacant. It had been on the market for three years, taking its toll on their mom’s finances. Isaiah had left his wife comfortably well off, but paying the taxes and keeping the old, empty building in good condition took an ever-increasing amount each year.

Her mom’s expression flashed from joyous to wary. “Does he really think Benton’s large enough to support a gym?”

“Not by itself,” Gil answered. “But he figures it’s the perfect location to pull in from all the smaller surrounding communities...like Taylor’s Grove. Lots of people around here would love to belong to a gym, but they don’t have the time or desire to make that hour or hour-and-a-half round-trip drive.”

Bree had always chosen to work out of a gym...well, until yesterday morning. Gil, on the other hand, had put the personal in the title personal trainer. He charged by the hour, working with individuals or small groups—mostly businessmen and bored, well-to-do housewives.

“But that’s not the best part.”

Her brother’s news had already sent a shock wave through Bree, and she braced herself for whatever was coming next.

Gil’s smile broadened, and his eyes darted between her and her mom. “He’s offered me the manager/trainer position.”

“Will you...” Bree’s throat closed, and she paused to get some air. “Will you be hiring?”

“Why?” Gil grinned around the dinner roll at his lips. “You thinking of leaving that hoity-toity club that Langston sucked you into?”

“Maybe.” Bree shrugged.

Gil placed the uneaten roll back on his plate and looked hard at her. Through her, actually. “You’re serious. What gives?”

Her mom set her fork down and clasped her hands on the table by her plate, turning her full attention to Bree. “You’ve been quiet all evening.” She reached out, her warm hand enveloping Bree’s cold one. “I thought it was the anniversary that was making you melancholy. But it’s something else.”

Bree nodded. “I got fired yesterday.”

Mom and Gil both straightened in their seats.

“What in the hell happened?”

Her mom shot a look at Gil. “Watch your manners, Gilbert.”

Gil shrugged. “Sorry. What in the hell happened...Brianna?”

For her mom’s sake, Bree decided on the G-rated version. “I broke up with Todd. He got mad and pulled the entire athletic account.”

Gil gave a low whistle. “Whew! That’s a huge chunk of business to lose.”

Bree nodded in agreement.

“But that’s what you get for messing around with clients.” There was Dad’s tone again.

“We weren’t ‘messing around.’ We were dating,” Bree snapped.

“Call it what you want. It’s suicide in the business world.”

“Believe me, if I’d ever thought—”

“That’s your problem, Bree. You don’t think.”

Mom slapped her hand on the table. “Stop bickering, you two.” She sighed, and her angry glare softened. “Don’t you see? ‘Everything happens for a reason.’ Isaiah told us that all the time.” Her chin quivered as her eyes traveled back and forth, giving each child equal time. “You think it’s just a coincidence that we have a prospect on the building? And that prospect wants to hire you, Gil? And you, Bree, just happen to be looking for a job?” She smiled, and a tear traced its way down her cheek. “And all this just happened to come to pass on the anniversary of your father’s death? I’m telling you, kids, this is your dad watching over us.”

Her mom’s sentiments were sweet, but Bree didn’t feel the same comfort from the words. Hopefully, Dad was not somewhere watching her indiscretions. That would be...ewww! She shuddered.

Her mom gave a long, contented sigh, and then stood. “Y’all just stay here. I’ll go dish us up dessert.”

“None for me, Mom,” Bree reminded her.

“Yes, I know, dear.” Mom patted her on the back when she passed behind her on the way into the kitchen.

When she was out of earshot, Gil leaned across the table. “Mom’s right. Everything does happen for a reason. And the reason you got fired is because you were sleeping with a client.”

Bree was in no mood to be lectured. “Drop it, Gil,” she said, knowing he would have the last word—like always.

True to form, he stuck his finger in her direction. “I’ll tell you one thing. This opportunity might pan out for us both. But, if it does, you have to promise me never to get involved with another client.”

“I’m good on the control stuff, Gil.” Bree pointed to her plate as evidence of that fact. “And I’ve learned from my mistakes. No man’s worth risking my career.”

“Keep reminding yourself, will you?”

“No need.” Bree leaned back and snatched a tangerine from the bowl on the buffet. “The mantra is etched on my frontal lobe.”

She would never be that stupid again.

CHAPTER TWO

Mid-October

“THANKS FOR LETTING me stay on, Mr. B. This extra month and a half has helped out a lot.” Josh thrust his hand forward in what seemed like a bit of over-formality, but Kale shook it warmly.

Josh Reeves was a great kid, and Kale wished he could keep him on through the winter. But with the days getting cooler, business had slowed to mainly gas traffic, fishermen and the random houseboat or two a day. Besides, the kid needed some time to participate in extracurriculars. This was his senior year, and he should be enjoying it instead of working every day after school. “You’ve been good help.” Kale added a friendly clap on the boy’s shoulder. “Come April, I’ll be looking to hire you back if you’re interested. In the meantime, if I decide to take some time off—like a weekend or whatever—would you be interested in watching the place?”

“Why? You planning a romantic getaway with Addy or something?” The eighteen-year-old gave him a sly grin.

“You saw, huh?”

Josh nodded.

Kale was aware his own smile was a bit smug, but he couldn’t help it. For almost four months, his occasional calls to Addy to “just catch up” had gone unanswered. And then, she’d shown up at the marina this afternoon, out of the blue. Her body language messages had been mixed—and damn confusing. She hadn’t really come on to him, but she did comment on the weight he’d lost—over twenty pounds since she’d last seen him, and she’d said he looked good.

“Naw, but I might want to do some fishing.” Kale wasn’t sure if his answer to Josh’s question was a lie or not. A weekend with Addy had crossed his mind, but so had fishing. He’d accomplished his first step in his “get Addy back” project—she’d dropped by. That must mean something. But now he thought it best to back off and allow her to do some of the pursuing. Nothing was a bigger turnoff than a desperate guy.

“Fishing. Weekend with Addy.” Josh held his hands palms up and moved them as if weighing the possibilities. “Both of them involve opening a can of worms, Mr. B.”

Kale laughed at the boy’s ever-ready wit—another thing he liked about him. “So your next gig is at a comedy club, right?”

Josh dropped his hands to rest on his hips. “Just calling it like I see it. Anyway, however you spend your weekend, I’d love to cover for you. Anytime you need me, just holler.”

They said their goodbyes but left the specifics hanging since Kale had no definite plans. He waved until the boy was out of sight, and then changed into his reflective clothes and took off for his nightly jog.

He’d started by walking around the parking lot for five minutes and had added an additional five each week until he’d gotten up to forty-five minutes. At that point, he’d decided he’d rather drop dead from exertion than boredom and began to jog. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference in his heavy gait. But, at the beginning of October, he’d finally ventured out to the highway and had fixed a goal in his mind of someday jogging all the way to his friend Beecher’s marina at Taylor’s Grove—a nine-mile trek.

But tonight the goal in miles didn’t seem important. The star he was reaching for took on the familiar shape of Addy. He would walk, jog—hell, he’d all-out run, he was so committed to doing whatever it took to get into the shape he needed to be to win her back.

He clocked his distance with his phone, making it a full mile-and-three-eighths—his personal best—before slowing to a walk and turning back for home.

Almost a mile-and-a-half and getting a visit from Addy all on the same day? He felt lighter indeed as a bubble of hope swelled in his chest.

An hour later, his celebration was complete with a cold beer in one hand and one of Mama G’s pizzas in the other.

How Mama G kept her pizzas so hot over the miles of delivery in this rural area of Kentucky amazed him. He dropped the box on the table as he passed and blew on his burning fingers. He grabbed a plate from his cupboard and filled it with three pieces of Mama G’s Special—hamburger, pepperoni, Canadian bacon and green pepper.

When he flipped the carton closed to keep the pizza warm, the bright yellow paper taped to the top caught his eye. Not the usual list of coupons from Benton merchants, this one heralded GRAND OPENING SPECIAL AT BENTON FITNESS across the top, and beneath that a photo of two sickeningly gorgeous people dressed in full workout regalia. The man’s sculpted biceps bulged under the weight of the barbell he gripped in front of his chest while the woman pumped large hand weights with perfect form and, well, perfect everything, as far as he could see.

Kale’s gaze lingered a moment longer on the woman before drifting down to the caption. Manager/Personal Trainer Gilbert Rice and Personal Trainer Brianna Rice are ready to help you become what you’ve always dreamed of being.

Kale affected the voice of Saturday Night Live’s bodybuilding characters, Hanz and Franz. “Gilbert and Brianna Rice. ‘We want to pump—” he clapped “—you up.’” He snorted at his joke.

His gaze drifted back to the photo of the perfect people who enjoyed, he was sure, a perfect marriage. How did people like them find a spouse? No ordinary person would be good enough. Maybe somewhere out there was a special dating service that specialized in uniting perfect people. He could see it now—Your Perfect Match.

Well, one thing was certain—that these two found each other was a good thing. That way, they didn’t mess up two other imperfect people’s lives.

He ripped the paper from the box and looked over the different types of memberships. The prices were reasonable and the gym had flexible hours. He bit into the pizza, which had finally cooled enough to eat.

With cold weather scheduled to arrive soon, a gym membership might not be a bad idea, and adding weight training to his workouts would speed up the entire “getting in shape” process.

Kale set the pizza box in the refrigerator, not as hungry as he’d originally thought. He’d finish it tomorrow for lunch instead of eating the entire thing tonight.

Juggling the plate, two beers and the TV remote, he finally settled on the couch for a couple of hours of football—something he and Addy had always enjoyed together.

Hell, combining jogging with weight lifting, he might get shaped up in no time.

Addy might be warming his bed again before Christmas.

* * *

THE LEAVES OF the white ash tree were on the ground now. The sight sent a pang through Stella. Oh, the oaks were still hanging full, but even they had started to loosen their grip. Two or three more weeks of mowing and all of the leaves would be mulched for the winter.

And then what would become of Ray Cyree?

She knew it was silly to fret about the man. He was at least sixty years old, she’d determined from bits of conversation. Certainly old enough to take care of himself. But he had so little to show for all his years—a plywood box sitting atop an old pickup with a bed taking up most of the space and everything else he owned crammed into storage boxes piled from floor to ceiling.

She shuddered, remembering the “tour” he’d given her last week of his strange home. She hadn’t actually gone in—she didn’t need to. The glance he’d allowed had filled her brain with enough sights to haunt her ever since.

He’d opened the front door and let her sit for a moment in the driver’s seat. The passenger’s seat had been removed, replaced by a short plastic unit with drawers like she’d seen in discount stores. A built-in twin bed took up most of the space, made up with a set of threadbare, but clean sheets. He’d pointed out his kitchen, which consisted of a cooler, a hot plate and built-in shelves filled with every kind of canned soup imaginable.

“I buy a bag of ice every day, and I have a small gas-powered generator when I need heat or electricity to cook,” he’d told her, pointing proudly to his “amenities.”

She’d tried to hide her dismay at his living conditions, but he must’ve seen through her. “I’m a simple man, Ms. Stella. I have everything I need, and most of what I want.”

Perhaps it was that comment that affected her most.

She shifted her gaze from the falling leaves outside to the spacious kitchen she stood in. A 3,500-square-foot house seemed obscene for one person to occupy, and for the fifty-millionth time since Isaiah’s abrupt departure, she wondered if she should downsize.

The thought of leaving her home with its comforts, but most of all its memories, made her heart ache. But the thought of having so much when so many others had so little was a double-edged sword.

“Stop your brooding, Stella,” she admonished herself aloud.

A soft rap on the back door startled her out of her reverie. When she opened it, she was surprised and delighted to meet Ray Cyree’s snaggle-toothed smile.

“Morning, Ms. Stella.”

“Good morning, Ray. You’re a day early. Today’s Wednesday.”

In the four months since they’d met at the park, Ray had become a good friend. She still didn’t know too much about him as he was tight-lipped when it came to talking about his history. A haunted look came into his eyes whenever the subject of wife or children came up, and he would shrug it off. But he could talk endlessly about his travels, and he was punctual to a fault, and for that reason alone, he’d earned her trust.

He pulled a small bouquet of zinnias from behind his back and thrust them awkwardly toward her. “I brought these for you.”

It was Stella’s turn to feel awkward, and she hurried to cover it. “Why, thank you, Ray. They’re beautiful.” She accepted them, but a flicker of worry flared in her mind. She hoped he hadn’t cut them from Sue Marsden’s yard. Sue had a hissy fit if anyone touched her flowers.

Ray’s grin softened. “I finished the concrete work on the church steps yesterday, so the pastor and his wife invited me for breakfast this morning. When I mentioned how beautiful her flowers still were, Ms. O’Malley cut these for me. I thought I’d pass them on to you.” He shrugged. “Just a small way of saying thanks for all you’ve done to help me.”

“Why, that’s very kind of you.” She buried her nose in the flowers, finding only a faint scent lingered.

Ray gave another of his signature one-shouldered shrugs. “Ms. O’Malley should get the credit.”

“Faith and Sawyer O’Malley are dear to my heart.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Did you know we may be in-laws someday?”

“So I hear. Ms. O’Malley mentioned your son and her daughter...?” Ray had held up first one finger for Gil and then added another for Thea. He wiggled them together and crossed them as his tone died away.

Stella smiled and crossed her own fingers. “Yes. We hope.” Aware they had been standing in the doorway for a while, Stella gestured behind her to the kitchen. “Won’t you come in for a cup of coffee?”