so soft. “Tell her you won a radio contest.”
I have to bite my lip to stifle a chuckle. I don’t do a great job keeping quiet, though, because they both twist their heads to look around. Quietly, I suck in a breath and hold it. They turn back to each other.
Tate backs away from Cal. “I’m breaking out the slow cooker tonight, so be ready for pot roast the rest of the week.”
With a nod, Cal waves good-bye to Tate. He exits the side door on the opposite end of the warehouse. Leaning my back against the carousel, I huff out a breath. When I straighten up to walk back upstairs, I trip on a rogue electric cord and fall into the carousel in front of me. A box of hammers spills from the bottom shelf, causing an epic crash and echo that I’m sure half of the warehouse hears.
I scramble to pick up the hammers and shove the box back on the shelf when a set of leathery hands comes into view. When I look up, Cal is crouched down to help clean my mess.
“You all right?” Together we slide the box back on the shelf.
I nod. “Sorry, I didn’t meant to interrupt your lunch—I mean, I didn’t see you eating . . .”
It’s official. I’m the world’s worst sleuth. Cal waves a hand at me, and a flush of pink flashes across his wrinkled cheeks. There’s no use in me stammering through another lie. He knows I saw Tate bring him lunch and give him money. And there’s probably a reason why he’s choosing to eat lunch in a darkened corner of the warehouse instead of the break room.
He takes a step back, his eyes falling to the stained concrete below. “Things have been tight for the wife and me lately. She’s had some health problems, and there’s not a lot of money for much else other than doctors, bills, and rent.”
In my head, the blocks fall into place. That explains why Cal, who is pushing seventy, is still working instead of retired like most people his age. It explains why he apparently does auto repairs in addition to his full-time job.
“I’m so sorry.”
When he looks up, he’s smiling. “Don’t be. That Tate fellow is something else. Kept asking me why I never took a lunch break. He saw past all my excuses. Then one day, months ago, he started dropping off bagged lunches for me. I didn’t say a word. He just knew.” A wistful look passes across his face. I pat his arm. “Son of a gun even tries to give me cash sometimes. I used to refuse it, but he started hiding it in the lunches he brings me.”
Warmth courses through me. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help, Cal. We’re here for you.”
His eyes widen for a second, but then he nods. He’s probably surprised at my offer, seeing as we haven’t spoken more than polite pleasantries to each other since I’ve worked at Nuts & Bolts. But Cal is someone who’s always been kind and respectful to me at work, and I want him to feel comfortable approaching me if he needs help.
“Appreciate it.” He walks back to his lunch.
When I make it back to my desk, I see that Tate’s office is still empty. He must be out on an errand or an appointment or something. It’s just as well. I don’t know if I could even muster the courage to look at him right now. Much of the fire and fury inside of me from our argument has melted away, leaving something unfamiliar behind.
I ball both fists in my hair, unsure of what to do or how to feel.
five
So wait, Tate’s been delivering lunch to your elderly coworker? And giving him money?” My little sister, Addy, stares at me through my laptop screen. Her chocolate brown eyes are as big as saucers as I fill her in over Skype about my fight with Tate and creeping on his random act of kindness.
“Yeah. For the past few months now, apparently.”
“Huh.” A confused frown crowds her face. Anything other than a beaming smile appears unnatural on her. She is one of those people whose resting neutral face radiates warmth and friendliness, unlike me. My resting bitch face suffers no fools.
“I feel kind of bad about freaking out on him now.”
I down the last of the green smoothie I made in preparation for this evening’s Skype session with Addy, hoping it would reset my