The Eight Year Ledger novel · Chapter 5 of 32

Chapter 5: Doyle Hardware

The principal said the district investigator would call me to set a time.

Nobody called on Monday morning.

I cancelled my bakery, both dentists and the roofer.

I kept one appointment, because I'd made it three weeks ago and I don't cancel on people who need me.

Doyle Hardware was on Main Street, between a vape shop and a bridal store that had been going out of business for a decade.

It had a wooden floor that sloped toward the back, and a bell over the door.

It smelled like birdseed and cut keys.

Beau Doyle was on a stepladder in aisle four with his arm in a bin up to the elbow.

"Be right with you," he said, without looking.

Then he looked.

He came down the ladder slowly, which was the only way a man that size could come down a ladder.

"Mrs. Whitford."

"Kristen," I said. "We have a ten o'clock. You emailed me in September about your books."

"I know. I just figured you'd cancel."

"I don't cancel."

He studied me for a second.

He walked to the counter and poured coffee into a paper cup from a pot older than me.

He set it in front of me.

He didn't ask how I was.

He didn't say anything about Thursday at all.

I could have cried at him for that, and I didn't.

"Cream's in the mini fridge," he said. "It's under the bait."

"The bait?"

"Nightcrawlers. They're in a separate box. Mostly."

"I'll take it black."

"Smart."

He brought a shoebox out from under the register.

It was full of receipts.

Not organized. Just full.

"My dad did the books,"

he said.

"He died two years ago. Since then I put things in this box, and every April a guy in Columbus yells at me."

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