Page 12 of Cold Winter Nights
Royal escaped into the one dressing room stall while Jessie waited outside.
“Don’t be overwhelmed here, Royal. The people are friendly and will go out of their way to help anyone, even a stranger. That’s just how it is here. Visitors always bring with them a uniqueness that’s all their own, that brightens our small place in the world.” Jessie paused and took a short breath. “Now, I don’t know how long you’ll be visiting, or if you plan on staying.You’re buying clothes, so I assume a while. We’re all just looking forward to what your unique qualities will be. And before you try to convince yourself that you won’t bring anything, sometimes just a person’s presence is plenty enough, son.”
Royal had wrapped the heavy parka tight around himself as he listened to Jessie’s words.
All this time he’d been thinking there was no way he’d fit in here.
But maybe if he stopped thinking of running and just sat still for a while, perhaps he would.
Ten minutes later Royal came out of the dressing room, a slight smile curving his lips.
“I’ll take it all,” he said.
Jessie winked. “Good for you.”
Royal
Royal was struggling to make his way back to the bed and breakfast with both arms loaded down with shopping bags. He should’ve driven.
He still had a couple of blocks to go when two men who looked around his age, abandoned the fence they’d been building and rushed over to him.
In New York, that would’ve been the time to drop his shit, toss his wallet into the air and run for his life—he was about to be robbed.
Instead the guys began to take some of the bags off his forearms.
“Let us help you out with those, it looks like you’re struggling, the shortest one offered with bright green eyes and an easy smile.
“I’m good, I got it,” Royal claimed automatically.
“Bullshit, you tripped twice when you crossed the street just now.” One of them laughed loudly, reaching and lifting some of the bags off his forearm, “and you still got a little ways to go to the Pines.”
“I’m Mark, and that’s Ben. You’re Royal, right?”
Royal hid his smirk behind his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. He was in a gosh-damn parallel universe.
“I know what you’re thinking, word sure travels fast.” Mark noted. “My aunt is Mrs. Pearl and Jojo is my baby sister.”
The other—Ben he was told—with the jet-black beard, and wearing a gray and brown bomber hat, relieved him of his garment bag covering his new sherpa-lined trench, and bag with his two pairs of boots.
“Sorry you had to stop your work,” Royal stammered a bit. “T-thanks though. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, and no worries. We still got plenty daylight to finish the posts for the Christmas trees, Stone won’t be bringing the first batch over for another couple days.”
“Stone.” Royal perked up at the name, then hurried and lowered his tone, “Yeah, I’ve met him.”
Ben and Mark both looked at him strangely.
“Yep, he’s our boss. He’s a cool guy, laid-back, and not a ball-buster. He owns Stone Wood Carvings. We build all the stuff for the festival. It’ll keep us super busy all the way until New Years. It’s freaking huge, man, this town goes fucking crazy. You’ll see.”
The guys were about his age and spoke with more slang and curse words than the other people he’d met.
Once they got to the bed and breakfast they helped him all the way to his room.
“It was nice meeting you, man,” Mark spoke up. “There’s not much of a nightlife here, not like you’re probably used to, but we do have a pretty cool bar and grill, the Tin Tap about ten miles outside of town in Wickford.”
Royal grinned again—second time in thirty minutes—surprised but appreciative of the invite.
“Sure, thanks guys. I might check it out soon.”