Gnome On The Range (2 page)

“Take only what you can eat, good manners, and put your dollar bill in your pocket so you don’t lose it,” I reminded them.

The kids nodded their heads with excitement. Garage sales and pancakes. Could life get any better?

The sun felt warm on my face. It had just popped up over the mountains, even though it had been light for almost two hours. “Leave your sweatshirts in the car. It’ll be warm when we come out.” I stripped off my fleece jacket and tossed it onto the front seat. It might have been summer, but it still dropped into the forties overnight.

The breakfast was in the fire department’s bay. One big space, concrete floor and walls made of gray sheet metal siding. Two fire trucks were parked out in front with volunteer firemen watching kids swarm over the equipment. My two looked longingly at the apparatus but knew they could explore once they ate. Inside it smelled like bacon and coffee. Two of my favorite things. I collected paper plates and plastic utensils and got in the buffet line for food.

“There’s Jack from school,” Zach said as he tugged on my arm and pointed. I waved to Jack and his parents who were already digging into their pancakes at one of the long tables. Everywhere you went in Bozeman, you ran into someone you knew. It was impossible to avoid it. Even a seven year old like Zach felt popular. It was nice sometimes, the sense of community, but once I ducked around an aisle at the grocery store to avoid someone so I didn’t have to talk to them. Who hasn’t? That time it was my dental hygienist and I hadn’t been overly interested in being interrogated about my flossing practice.

Since I ran Goldilocks, the only adult store nearby (you had to go all the way to Billings otherwise), I had a lot of customers. Local customers. It was hard sometimes to make small talk with someone at the deli counter when you really only knew them from that time they came to the store to purchase nipple clamps for the little wife. Thus, the ducking around in stores. I held a lot of confidences, kept a lot of secrets, and over the years, the general population trusted me with them.

We approached the first breakfast offering. At the word ‘eggs’, the boys stuck out their plates. I watched them load up and move on to hash browns, which they skipped over with a polite, ‘No, thank you.’ I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back for their good manners. They could squawk like roosters at each other but were almost always polite to strangers who offered food.

“Mom! There’s Mr. Strickland!” Zach practically yelled.

“Hi, Mr. Strickland!” Bobby chimed.

I searched for Mr. Strickland over the crowd of tables, down the length of the food, looking for the Mr. Strickland of my imagination. Where was the fifty-something man? The paunch? Zach held out his plate for pancakes.

“Hey, Champ!” the pancake man said to Zach.

My heart jumped into my throat and I broke out in an adrenaline induced sweat.

“Holy crap,” I said.

Pancake man was not fifty. Not even forty. He most definitely didn’t have a pot belly. Only an incredibly flat one under a navy fire department T-shirt. Solid.
Hot
. Zach had certainly exaggerated Mr. Stricklands’s height. He was tall. I had to tilt my head up a bit to look him in the eye, which I found A-OK. Being five-eight, I liked a man with altitude.

The fireman was certainly lighting my fire.

“Holy crap?” Pancake Man, also known as Ty Strickland, replied.

Flustered, I tried to smile, but I was mortified. Not because I said ‘Holy crap’, that just slipped out. I could have probably come up with something better, but
holy crap
, he was the fireman who’d come into the store for the fire inspection.

“I know you,” Ty said, smiling. Damn. His teeth were straight and perfect. I could feel my blood pressure going through the roof. No bacon for breakfast for me or I might have an embolism on the spot. “You’re Jane from Goldilocks.”

“You know Mom from work?” asked Bobby, eyeing both of us curiously. His plate was filled with food and he needed two hands to carry it. “Mom says her work is for grown ups.”

Ty nodded his head and looked Bobby in the eye. “I had to inspect the sprinkler system and make sure there are fire extinguishers in the store. I was working, too.”

“Boys, take your plates and find a place to sit. I’ll be right there.”

“Will you sit with us, Mr. Strickland?” Zach asked.

“Why don’t you two call me Ty, all right?”

The boys nodded their heads.

“Give me a few minutes to finish here and I’ll join you,” Ty replied, holding up his pancake tongs. The kids scurried off to scarf down their meals. Ty watched the boys go then turned his gaze to me. Grinned.

“I learned a lot from you at the store yesterday,” Ty said. He appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. Me, not so much.

Standing in the pancake line I did a quick mental inventory. It wasn't quite eight in the morning so I wasn’t at my best. On a good day, or at least later in the morning, I liked to think of myself as better than average looking. I’m above average in height, longer than average in curly, dark blond hair, larger than average in breast size, and lighter than average in weight. The weight part I could thank my mom. Like her, I can eat whatever I want and not gain an ounce.  My best friend Kelly hates me for that, but what can you do? She should hate my mother instead.

The downside to being skinny is that I have no calves. None. It’s a straight shot down from knobby knees to feet. I could run until the cows came home and I wouldn’t develop calves. At least Kelly had calves. The rest, and I guess including the calves, was just weird genetics.

Of course this morning I hadn’t pulled myself together as I should, or how Kelly said I should. I’m what is called a low maintenance woman. I don’t even think I had a can of hairspray in my house.

I went over the crucial things in my mind. Hair, breath, bra, zipper. At least I'd brushed my teeth, but my hair was pulled up into a ratty ponytail, probably curls sticking out every which way. I wore shorts (the zipper was up), an old Sweet Pea Festival T-shirt and flip-flops. No make up. It couldn’t have gotten much worse unless I had decided to skip a bra. Which, being a 34D, would have been
really
bad.

I was a mess! Kelly would disavow any knowledge of me if she came through the door.

Then I remembered Ty was my new neighbor. No matter how much I felt like it at the moment, I couldn’t hide from him forever.

What could this guy see in me besides a complete slob who was an expert in dildos? What had I worn yesterday? It didn’t matter. He’d probably been too blinded by all the sex toys to have noticed my clothing. I felt like a total freak.

“This is one of those embarrassing moments in life.” I pointed my finger at him. Hot or not, I felt very cranky. “You need to tell me a secret about you so it balances out.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up into a grin. “Fair enough.” He leaned toward me over the platter of pancakes, looked to the left and right and whispered so only I could hear. “I can see the perks of the silicone dildo you talked about yesterday, even the one with the top that rotates,” he twirled his finger in the air to demonstrate, then looked me straight in the eye, “but I like a woman who goes for the real thing.”

Was that steam coming up off the platter of pancakes I was leaning over, or did I just break out in sweat?

***

It took Ty five minutes to separate himself from the pancakes and sit across the table from me and Zach, with Bobby on his right. He hadn’t left his grin behind.

“When we’re done here, we’re going to garage sales,” Bobby told Ty around a mouthful of egg.

“Yeah, we each have a whole dollar to spend,” Zach added. A piece of pancake fell out of his mouth and landed with a plop back in the syrup on his plate.

“No talking with your mouth full,” I murmured.

 “Sounds like fun. Make sure you show me all your loot later,” Ty told them both.

The boys nodded to Ty in answer, their lips tightly sealed as they chewed.

“Aren’t you eating?” he asked me.

I took a sip of coffee. “I will.”

He lifted an eyebrow but made no comment.

Small talk. I needed to make small talk. The kids could do it. Forget the past. The dildos. Bad hair. It was all about the future. “I…I didn’t know you were a volunteer fireman.”

Ty shook his head. “I’m not. I work in town for Bozeman Fire. Station one on Rouse. Here, this area south of town, is volunteer. I have friends on the department and offered to help this morning.”

So, it was small town coincidence I’d bump into him. First thing in the morning looking a total mess. It would have worked better if I’d primped a bit and taken brownies to him at his house, welcoming him to the neighborhood. The only perk of running into him this way was I didn’t have to bake.

“What about you? Is Goldilocks your shop?”

“You must be new to town.” I reached out and grabbed Bobby’s OJ cup before it tipped over.

“Yeah, Montana raised, but new to Bozeman. I’ve been in the military for years and decided to settle down close to home.”

“Goldie’s my mother-in-law. It’s her store.
Everyone
knows Goldie. She’s famous around here. You’ll know what I mean when you meet her. She’s a pistol. I just work there to help her out since my husband died.”

Ty had a look on his face I couldn’t read. Pity, sadness, heartburn. It could have been any of them.

“My dad died in a hamburger,” Bobby told Ty.

Now Ty just looked confused.

“All done?” I asked the boys, grinning, glad to see the man at a loss. “You can go check out the fire trucks if you want.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. They were out of their chairs faster than a hunter at the start of elk season. I slid Bobby’s plate in front of me and I dug into the pancakes and egg left on the plate.

“Your husband died in a…?”

“Hamburg,” I said, and then laughed. "As in Germany. Blood clot that traveled to his lung, supposedly from flying.”

This was where I usually stopped when I talked about Nate’s death. Juicy gossip wasn’t something I wanted to deal with. But as I looked at Ty, I decided to share the rest. What the hell. What could it hurt? The man thought I was a Looney Tune already. “He was there on business—and pleasure. He died in bed with another woman.” I took a deep breath. “And another man.”

“Holy crap,” he murmured.

I got lots of pity parties and uncomfortable sympathy when people heard Nate had died. Only a select few knew about his extracurricular activities. I was long over it—him—when he’d died. I’d wanted to kill him myself a time or two for cheating on me, so I found it ironic he’d died going at it. But I was still working on my self-esteem because of him, even years later.

Ty leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table. When they came away sticky with syrup, he grabbed a napkin and scrubbed at his arm. Someone messy must’ve eaten at the table before us. “Did you know about her—them, his…Jesus…you know, before?”

The fire truck horn, which was probably one of the loudest things in the entire county, blared. Everyone within a mile must have heard it. Those in the bay were lucky if they hadn’t dumped their coffee in their lap. And gone deaf. Babies cried, old people placed hands on their chests contemplating a coronary. I saw Zach wave to me from the driver’s seat of the fire truck with a guilty look on his face. I waved back. “Long story. Gotta run before they arrest him. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Chapter Two

It was seven that night, the sun still high in the sky, but I sank lower in my chair, sheltered by the patio umbrella. The remnants of dinner were spread out before me on the teak table. Plates, napkins, silverware were strewn about, cobs were corn free, grilled chicken a memory. Aroma of burning charcoal still lingered in the air. I slumped down, comfortable with my head resting against the wooden back. Relaxed with a full stomach. Wiped out. The tip of my nose was hot and stung a little, probably sunburn.

It had been a long day. After the breakfast fiasco, we’d hit six garage sales, then hiked up Pete’s Hill and had a picnic lunch. PB&J with a view. I loved that trail as it is right downtown but up on a ridge that offered expansive views, especially at sunset. Bozeman is in a valley surrounded on three sides by mountains. The Gallatins, Spanish Peaks and Tobacco Roots. Big Sky vistas in every direction. The kids liked it because you could see the roof of our house from our favorite bench.

While I watched from the patio, the boys played in the backyard wearing their Halloween costumes from the previous year. Zach, dressed as a Stormtrooper, was on the rope swing pretending to be either a futuristic Tarzan or a pirate. Bobby wore his Spiderman suit with Zach’s Stormtrooper mask. They had to be hot and sweaty in their polyester wardrobe.

Bobby dug in the sandbox with a garden trowel pretending he was Indiana Jones looking for lost treasure, although how he could see through the little eye holes was beyond me. My kids weren’t obsessed with one favorite children’s character splattered across bed sheets, beach towels and lunch boxes. They liked all kinds. They didn’t discriminate.

Next to Bobby, tilted at a cockeyed angle, was the garden gnome he’d bought with his dollar at the second garage sale. It had a little blue coat and red pointy hat, white beard. A foot tall. It smiled that creepy closed lipped smile. Zach got a gnome, too. His was different, red coat and blue hat. Same white beard. His sat on its own patio chair at the table with me. Zach had insisted it join us for the meal. If I leaned back in my chair, its beady eyes weren’t trained on me. Fortunately, there were two gnomes at the sale because only one would have caused global nuclear meltdown. You couldn’t split a ceramic garden figurine down the middle to share like a brownie or cookie. At a dollar apiece, the kids were happy, which made me happy. Life was good.

“Arr, put your blasters down!” shouted Zach as he whizzed through the air. The swing hung from the ash tree that shaded the yard. The fence between the Colonel’s house and mine was waist high, so Zach climbed it and launched himself from there. Even though the houses weren’t shoehorned into small lots—mine was over a quarter acre— from my position on the patio I could see inside the Colonel’s family room off the back at night. He too, could see into my house, although his view was the bank of windows into my kitchen. Maybe that’s why he came for dinner so often. He could see what I cooked.