Page 8 of Her Hidden Smile

“He said you might be a little too shy to give them their assignments?” I posed it as a question so I wouldn’t offend her.

Millie gave out a harsh laugh. “Shy, huh? I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

She studied me as I apologized, missing nothing. She was also taking in my demeanor and expressions as she tried to determine my emotions. On the last one she was out of luck. I had my emotions locked down, tight as a drum.

“I didn’t know Irving was that sick,” she said, changing subjects. “I wouldn’t have called him for help if I had known. Maybe I should make him some soup. I could leave it on the porch for his wife to pick up.”

I didn’t bother to comment on that, instead I turned to the matter at hand. “I saw the broken branches; how would you have taken care of them yourself? Some of them are pretty high up.”

“A ladder.”

“Using a ladder without a spotter isn’t safe, as a matter of fact it is downright dumb.”

She winced.

“But you know that already, don’t you?” I persisted.

She nodded.

“Are you telling me you’re so bent on not taking other people’s help that you’d risk injuring yourself and not being able to call for help?”

“I’d take my cell phone.”

Finally, a bit of backbone.

“And what if you were unconscious?”

“I’d wake up, and then call for help.”

Now her backbone had taken a turn to stupidity.

“Now you’re just being contrary.”

“Look, Mr. Drakos⁠—"

“Call me Renzo.”

“Mr. Drakos, I don’t need your help.” She stepped back from the threshold and started to close the door.

“Hold up.” She stopped closing the door and looked at me. “Are you always this stubborn?” I asked her.

“I’m not stubborn,” she protested. “I just like working with Irv. I’ve been working with him for years.”

Irving was an older man. Small but wiry. I could see how he wouldn’t be intimidating. Meanwhile, I almost topped six feet, and I was built on the larger side. Muscular. And if it was a concern to her, like it was to some people, I was half Peruvian and half Caucasian, so that meant I was brown skinned. I couldn’t be more different from Irving than a hummingbird was from an ostrich.

“Miss Millie, Irving has already arranged for the kids from the college to come and help. They’re going to be here in a little less than two hours.” I’d worked on and off in the Southern states. I knew the vernacular. You always went with Miss Millie or Mizz Bertha, depending on the age of the woman you were talking to. Hopefully, addressing her as Miss Millie would put her more at ease. I hated seeing the look of panic that suffused her face.

“They can’t be. I can’t possibly supervise the workers. That’s just not doable. What’s more, I don’t have lemonade and cookies ready for them.”

I couldn’t stop from grinning.

Cookies and lemonade?

“Can’t you send them away when they get here?” she pleaded.

I could, but I wouldn’t. She needed to get those trees cleaned up. Hopefully that was the last windstorm and frost for the year, but we still weren’t done with March, so who knew what was going to happen. She needed this done.