taken drugs, and I’ve never been fired for incompetence. I’m willing to take a drug test, and if you think it necessary, you can have a background check run to confirm everything I said. Or if it’s easier, you can call my former commanding officer, and he’ll verify everything I’ve said. And even though the law doesn’t require me to answer a question of this type, I’m not on medication of any kind. In other words, I’m not schizophrenic or bipolar or manic. I’m just a guy who needs a job. And I did see the sign earlier.”
She hadn’t known what she’d expected him to say, but he’d certainly caught her off guard.
“I see,” she said again, focusing on the fact that he’d been in the military.
“Is it still a waste of time for me to fill out the application?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She felt intuitively that he was telling the truth this time, but she was equally certain there was more to the story than he was revealing. She gnawed the inside of her cheek. She needed to hire someone. Which was more important—knowing what he was hiding or finding a new employee?
He stood before her erect and calm, and his posture spoke of easy confidence. Military bearing, she observed with a frown.
“Why do you want to work here?” The words sounded suspicious even to her. “With a degree, you could probably get a better job somewhere else in town.”
He motioned toward Zeus. “I like dogs.”
“It doesn’t pay much.”
“I don’t need much.”
“The days can be long.”
“I figured they would be.”
“Have you ever worked in a kennel before?”
“No.”
“I see.”
He smiled. “You say that a lot.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. Note to self: Stop saying it. “And you’re sure you don’t know anyone in town?”
“No.”
“You just arrived in Hampton and decided to stay.”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I don’t have one.”
“How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
She blinked, uncomprehending. “Are you telling me that you walked all the way from Colorado?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t think that’s odd?”
“I suppose it depends on the reason.”
“What’s your reason?”
“I like to walk.”
“I see.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She reached for the pen, stalling. “I take it you’re not married,” she said.
“No.”
“Kids?”
“None. It’s just me and Zeus. But my mom still lives in Colorado.”
She pushed a sweaty lock of hair back from her forehead, equal parts flustered and bemused. “I still don’t get it. You walk across the country, you get to Hampton, you say you like the place, and now you want to work here?”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing else you want to add?”
“No.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind. “Excuse me for a minute. I have to talk to someone.”
Beth could handle a lot of things, but this was beyond her. As much as she tried, she couldn’t quite grasp everything he’d told her. On some level, it made sense, but on the whole, it just seemed . . . off. If the guy was telling the truth, he was strange; if he was lying, he picked strange lies. Either way, it was weird. Which was why, of course, she wanted to talk to Nana. If anyone could figure him out, Nana could.
Unfortunately, as she approached the house, she realized the game wasn’t over yet. She could hear the announcers debating whether it was right for the Mets to bring in a relief pitcher or something along those lines. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Nana’s seat empty.
“Nana?”
Nana poked her head out from the kitchen. “In here. I was just getting ready to pour myself a glass of lemonade. Would you like some? I can do it one-handed.”
“Actually, I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute? I know the game is still on . . .”
She waved the thought away. “Oh, I’m done with that. Go ahead and turn it off. The Braves can’t win, and the last thing I want to do is listen to their excuses. I hate excuses. There’s no reason they should have lost, and they know it. What’s going on?”
Beth walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as Nana poured the lemonade from the pitcher. “Are you hungry?” Nana inquired. “I can make you a quick sandwich.”
“I just had a banana.”
“That’s not enough. You’re as skinny as a golf club.”
From your mouth to God’s ears, Beth thought. “Maybe later. Someone came in to apply for the job. He’s here now.”
“You mean the cute one with the German shepherd? I figured that’s