Love in a Nutshell - Janet Evanovich [23]
“That was my lucky day,” Matt said to Chuck. Chuck was a good listener when Matt needed to unload. And Chuck could be counted on for unconditional love any time of the day or night. “I don’t know why I’m letting Kate get to me,” Matt said.
Chuck tilted his head, probably trying to pick out words he knew, like “food” and “treat.”
“But that’s not what’s messing me up. There’s something more about her. Look at the way she took on Hobart like it was her life goal. And the way she’s straight with me, too. No sugarcoating. I like her. A lot, if you know what I mean.”
Chuck started to snore as he fell into a doze. He had been neutered a long time ago and had absolutely no idea what Matt meant.
Matt’s thoughts turned from Kate to his business problems. As the old saying went, it wasn’t paranoia if someone really was out to get you. The flat tires and messed-up deliveries he’d dealt with, but the open walk-in had cost him some serious money. He had been trying not to take it personally, since whoever was doing this had a certain level of insanity going on, but this was personal.
Matt headed into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice jug, only to discover that at some point or another, he’d stuck it back in there empty. At least that way it matched the rest of his fridge’s barren expanse. He left the empty jug on the counter and swore he’d remember to get food tomorrow. Or eat at the restaurant again.
The phone rang and caller ID told him it was Lizzie. Guess she wasn’t through with him for the evening. He could ignore her, but it would do him no good. As a Keene’s Harbor police officer, she’d been known to pull him over when he’d ducked the rest of the family for too long. He picked up the phone. “Hi, Lizzie.”
“You blew out of the house so fast, I didn’t get the chance to give you your ticket for Friday night,” Lizzie said.
Ticket.
Matt didn’t like that word in any Keene’s Harbor context, be it parking or speeding or, far worst of all, admission. And even though this was Lizzie on the phone, he was damn certain that she was referring to the dreaded admission ticket to whatever Friday night benefit was planned at the Brotherhood of Woodsmen’s Hall.
“There’s a fund-raiser for Lester Pankram,” she said.
Matt winced. Lester was a nice old guy, but thrift had gotten the better of him. He’d been driving his tractor along the shoulder of a road when he’d seen a beer can. Hot for the ten cent refund, he’d stuck his tractor in neutral and hopped down. Blind to anything but that shiny can, he’d failed to note the road’s downhill slope and had pretty much run himself over. He’d come out of the incident with a broken leg, the sure knowledge that he’d become a Town Legend, and a Friday fund-raiser that would be held to help cover his medical expenses.
“I’m working Thursday and Friday this week,” Matt said. “There’s a private party at the brewery on Thursday, and we’re always slammed on Friday night.”
He rolled away from the nearly weekly fund-raisers the way Lester should have from his tractor. For some reason, at these events the older folks in town found it amusing to reminisce about the many dumb-assed moves Matt had made as a kid. The talk came with multiple elbows in the ribs, wry winks, and laughing. A lot of the stuff was funny when he heard it the first time of the night, but by the fifth or so time around, he found himself remembering why he’d decided to build his home deep in the woods. And why he liked to send an anonymous envelope of cash to the fund-raiser’s beneficiary.
“Let your staff do what you pay them for, and come to the fund-raiser,” Lizzie said. “You can meet and greet there, too.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“How about you don’t, this time? You skip ninety-nine percent of these things. It makes you look like a hermit.”
He smiled at the gap in her logic. “Only if you can find me to see me.”
“I’m not joking, Matt. This is a town tradition, and we Culhanes have been part of the town forever. Dad wants you there with the rest of the family,