I was a troubleshooter with Handy Dan's Convenience Stores. Whenever a manager was fired—if it were due to bad inventory—I was called upon to go to the store, evaluate the staff, make necessary changes, and right whatever wrongs had occurred. I loved the job, if for no other reason than I was paid an insane amount of money to do something I really enjoyed. The thing is, it kept me away from home quite a bit, and my wife, who was studying to be a nurse, couldn't just up and leave whenever I was sent somewhere new. She finally tired of my prolonged absences, and divorced me.
She claimed that she hadn't started seeing her new boyfriend until after we separated, but I was pretty sure she had been having an affair with him all along. Not that it mattered, because she was intent on seeing the divorce through, and I decided not to contest it.
I stayed with the company, continuing to move around for a few more years, but one day I realized I was just burned out. I spoke to Dan—we had become good friends—and told him I needed a break. "Well, we just had an opening for a store manager at our Windsor Avenue location in Valdosta, Georgia. Think you might want to do that?"
It was three states away. It sounded good to me. "Yeah, why not? Just give me a couple of weeks to find a place first."
He wrote a check for two thousand dollars and handed it to me. "That's for your deposit and first month's rent. You've been good to me, William. Allow me to be good to you." Dan also had a friend at the local Chevrolet lot whom he called, and before I left his office, it was decided that one of their employees would drive my car down, then pick up a Chevy in Valdosta and drive it back to Louisiana.
I accepted it, along with his handshake, and went home to make preparations to leave. I told my landlady, Sue, that I was being transferred, and per my contract I was not beholden to any future rents, plus I would receive my deposit back. I returned home, then went online to look for a place to live.
I found a two bedroom-two bath duplex on Schooner Street that was within walking distance to the Windsor store. I made an appointment to see the place in three days, but had already decided to take it, unless it turned out to be a roach motel or be in a bad part of town.
I rented a U-Haul, got my neighbor Jimmy to lend a hand, and the next day I was off. The apartment was rather nice, and the neighborhood was mainly military, so I had a good feeling about the place. I took it. I had to wait a day for my background check to come through, and once it had, I was moving in.
By queer chance, my new neighbor's name was Jimmy as well. He gladly pitched in and helped me unload the truck, and even shared a beer with me once we were through. He gave me the dirt on everyone on Schooner Street, but I just let most of it go in one ear and out the other as I would judge these people on my own. I didn't begrudge him for doing it, though, and we became good friends.
I won't lie. I am a rather good-looking guy. I'm six-one, two hundred pounds, hazel-green eyes, and I do not own a single pair of jeans; I dress in a tie every day. A lot of the local ladies in Valdosta were trying to talk me up, and I accepted their phone numbers with the promise that it would be about a week or so before I could call them since I was still trying to get settled in from the move.
One day, this elderly woman came in while I was posting invoices. She stood about five-one and must have been a buck-eighty easy. Her skin was doughy and wrinkly, and she had short, curly, gray hair. I smiled and greeted her as she entered, and when she came to the register, she said, "Oh, you're new."
"Yes, ma'am. I started here a few days ago," I told her as I rang up her purchase. "I'm the new manager, William."
"Oh, well, my name is Annie," she replied as she paid me. "You'll be seeing a lot of me. I live right back there on Schooner Street."
"Oh, I just moved on Schooner, believe it or not," I said as I handed her change to her and placed her can of Pepsi in a small bag.
"Really? Where at?"
"Six-one-eight," I told her. "You know, the first set of duplexes?"
"Ah. I live at one-zero-two-seven," she replied. "It's one of the smaller houses, but it suits my needs."
"No family living with you?" I asked, just being nice.
"No. My husband died several years back, and my daughter and her family moved to Florida, so it's just me."
"Well, you better be careful. Young woman like you? I bet you have to beat the men off you." I was being nice and trying to move past the tiny tragedies that plagued her life.
"I'm not as young as you think," she said with a half-smile.
"What? Thirty-six? Thirty-seven? Can't be much older than that."
"Aren't you a sweetheart?" she said with a smile. "Actually, I'm seventy-four."
In all honesty, she looked more like ninety-four. "Well, that's still young. You just have to remain young at heart."
"I like you, William. I'll see you later. Bye."
"Bye."
That evening, Annie showed up on my doorstep with a covered dish. "I hope I'm not intruding," she said as she offered it to me. "There's enough in there for you and your wife—Oh! I hope she hasn't cooked supper already."
"Actually, I'm not married," I told her. "Not anymore, and since dinner was going to be a can of heated-up corned beef hash, I'll take this any day of the week." She stood there, smiling. "Uh, have you eaten yet?"
"I wanted to bring this to you first," she said. "I was going to eat when I returned home."
"Why don't you join me?" I offered. It was the least I could do.
"I really wouldn't want to overstep any boundaries," she said in way of declining.
"Nonsense," I said. "You cooked it, the least you can do is enjoy it with me."
"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, William. Yes, I'll stay." The smile on her face was immeasurable. She came inside, and I guided her to the kitchen. "I'm still unpacking, so please excuse the mess."
"I understand," she said. She took a seat at the table, and I said, "I am yet to unpack my dishes. What say we share the plate?"
"Just like in some romantic movie?" she asked. "Sure."
She removed the foil to reveal smothered pork chops, yellow rice, and sweet peas. "Looks delicious," I said as I set a Coke Zero in front of her and one at my place. I tasted it.
"How is it," she asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.
"If my wife could cook this good, I think we might still be together today," I responded. "This is really good, Annie."
She blushed. "I don't get the opportunity to cook for anyone anymore, so it was my pleasure." We took turns eating from the dish, and in the middle of it, she said, "You know, I could give you a hand getting settled in."
"I would never ask that of you."
"I'm volunteering, William," she replied. "I know you must get up early to be at work, you're there ten-to-twelve hours a day, and when you get home you don't feel like doing anything but relaxing. Let me help."
"Ehhhhh, I don't know."
"If nothing else, it would give an old woman something to do."
After some consideration, I said, "Okay. I'll leave the back door unlocked in the morning. Just come over whenever you like. I'm not expecting you to do everything, but what little you do will be greatly appreciated."
She smiled, and we ate the rest of the dinner in silence.
When I returned home from work the next day, I was thoroughly shocked at what met my eyes. Not only had Annie emptied every box, but she even set each room as I had envisioned it without me saying a word to her. My bed was made, my dressers clean off—one look in each drawer showed that she had neatly folded my T-shirts, socks, and underwear, as well as my matching top-and-bottom athletic wear. She hung my paintings; the spare bedroom, which I had designated as my computer room, had all my accessories moved into it. The only thing she didn't do was hook up my PS4. Oh, and she left a vanilla-scented candle burning.
I walked to her house, and when she answered the door I placed a kiss on her cheek. "I was blown away with what you did in my house, Annie. Please, let me pay you for your time and effort. It's the least I can do."
"I won't hear of it," she responded. "I rather enjoyed myself today."
"Well, at least let me take you out to dinner," I offered. "I feel like I should do
something
