Gettin’ started continued

   Rebecca and Simon locked glances with each other. Why in the world would someone his age want to move from town? They looked across the road at the old house. Time had taken its toll on the structure. All the paint had peeled off. Simon wouldn’t have been surprised if the roof didn’t leak. Rebecca knew something big was happening. Mr. Rice was a very independent private man. He never asked anyone for help. The wind swept across the valley. A blade of grass distracted her. It was then she finally noticed the grass came to the top of the window frames. She always thought it (the house) looked so lonely. She had a soft spot for empty buildings. The thought always crossed her mind, what if they could talk? What stories they could tell? Who had lived there? What part did it play in the history of the community? Poor empty little house.

    Mr. Rice’s voice brought them back to the situation at hand. “I’ll pay you good for your time and buy all the stuff.”

    “I’d be happy to help you sir.” Simon smiled. He would have done what needed to be done in order to help the old timer. It was Mr. Rice who told him that Rebecca needed help around her house in the first place. If it hadn’t been for his influence, Simon felt he never would have met the RIGHT woman. And met her he had.

    “Thank you,” the old man put his hat back on and scuttled toward his truck.

    Simon called after him, “sir would you like some coffee?”

    The old man shook his head no before climbing back into his truck. “This Saturday, we are going to try to get it done.”

    They watched as he backed out of their driveway, drove down the road apiece, and then pulled into his driveway. All they could see was the top of his truck in the tall grass.

    “Did you see the look in his eyes?” Rebecca whispered.

    “How could you miss it?”

    “I wonder what that was about?” She shivered as they walked back up the steps. “You know those women that I have lunch with at Della’s, have never mentioned anything about this. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

    “Mr. Rice seems to be a very private person and is respected for that. Maybe they don’t know.”

    “Maybe, but it’s so hard for Widow Blake to keep a secret.”

    “This may not concern us. Most of the stuff I hear you repeat is stuff that is of a concern to the community.” He offered.

    They sat in their respective chairs. She snickered, “come on honey. How was our relationship a concern to the community?”

    He gave her a crooked smile. “How was it not? You had lived here for years and had made friends in the community, Mr. Rice being one of them. I was a complete stranger from the opposite side of the US.”

   “Point taken,” she sipped at her coffee.

    “I’m sure we’ll find out in due time what all this hub-bub is about.”