She finds herself smiling as she limps her way to Charlie’s room. Resting her head on the doorframe, she says into the crack of sunlight, “Thanks, boss. How much do I owe you?”
Charlie’s voice comes from closer than she’s expecting, like he might be right on the other side of the door. “Consider it included in room and board.”
“Thank you.” And then, because she can’t help herself, she says, “The, uh, underwear were especially thoughtful.”
She can imagine Charlie’s subsequent blush as he replies. “I figured you probably hadn’t packed enough for a whole month. And they’re, it’s, um, important. To be comfortable while working. Hopefully, they’re... right. The right size, I mean. Lori suggested... Anyway—”
“They’ll do,” she says. She should really thank him one last time and go back to her room. But it’s too tempting to continue, to get more of a reaction from him. She’s greedy for that little euphoric zing. “But really, I appreciate you thinking of that. I only brought four pairs with me, all very lacy. Actually, that’s not true.One pair is sort of a satin and mesh combo. Still, not ideal for farmwork. So I’m grateful—”
The door swings open. Charlie stands there with cheeks pinker than a theater kid’s after doing their own stage makeup for the first time. Gretchen’s grin is slow, expanding along with the deep satisfaction she gets out of affecting him. His gaze sweeps down her body as if he can’t help himself, eventually landing on her bare feet.
“Looks like your ankle is better today,” he says, drawing her attention to the fact that she’s been standing with most of her weight on that foot this whole time.
Oh, great. Now he probably thinks she was lying about her injury, even though she really was in a lot of pain yesterday. “I told you it was nothing.Iwanted to keep working. You’re the one who made me spend the day mostly on my butt.”
His expression is more skeptical than she’d like, but he says, “Probably a mild strain. Still, you should wear the brace for a few days to be safe.” Then Charlie stares at her for a long time, as if contemplating something. He seems to come to a decision that he’s not all that excited about based on the tone of his voice. “Go get dressed. You’re coming with me.”
“Coming with you where?”
“Farmers market.”
For some reason, the idea of leaving the premises with Charlie never crossed her mind. Which is stupid, now that she thinks about it. It’s not like Gilded Creek is the Hotel California. Well, at least not forher. “Oh. Um. Okay.”
“Meet me at the truck in half an hour.”
“Sure thing, boss.” She’s about to turn and go back to her room, but something makes her pause for a moment. “Everett told meyou’re a good egg. Keep this up and I might have to start agreeing with him.”
“Just get ready,” he says, and slams the door closed.
—
“Where are you off to, looking so, uh... like that?” Everett asks, his head peeking over the back of the couch when Gretchen comes downstairs.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asks defensively. She’s wearing a short black velvet dress she brought with her, along with two crystal necklaces she was able to de-mud. Just the sight of her heeled booties made her ankle throb again, so she decided to break in the new yellow rain boots, which she admits don’t exactly match the rest of the outfit. And okay, yes, she’s wearing the flannel Charlie gave her as makeshift outerwear since her jacket is still out of commission. It’s very... gothic grunge Gorton’s Fisherman. And based on the face Everett is making, it isn’t particularly working.
“Nothing, nothing. You just... nothing.”
“Whatever, I don’t have time to change. I’m going to the farmers market with Charlie.” Gretchen finger-combs the ends of her hair, trying to work some body into it. Two showers with the farm’s well water combined with Charlie’s citrusy three-in-one has made it lie so limp it almost looks like she flat-ironed it. “I’m not sure why he wants me there, but it’s a good opportunity to work on him a bit.”
Everett doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at her.
“What? I know my hair isn’t great, but—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Go ahead. Have fun. I’ll just... be here. Doing the same thing I do every day. Alone.”
“Everett.”
“It’s okay. Go. Enjoy.”
“Are you seriously trying to guilt me?” She walks around to the front of the couch to get a full view of the ghost, who has his legs crossed primly as he hovers an inch above the cushions.
“Of course not.”
“You want me to save Charlie, right? Well, to do that I’m going to need to spend time with him. And he isn’t particularly inclined to give me a ton of opportunities to do that. I need to take them where I can get them. Hey, I’m sorry you’ll be lonely, but—”
“Ha, lonely?” Everett scoffs. “I won’t be lonely. I have...somany other friends.”
Gretchen rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’m the only person who knows you exist, but you’re Mr. Popular, huh?”
