The Sweetest Hours. Cathryn Parry

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СКАЧАТЬ judging from watching her as she leaned over him and tapped at her keyboard.

      He closed his eyes. Malcolm got a whiff of that honey body lotion they sold, that the factory smelled of, actually. It was nice. It was driving him a little crazy, because it wasn’t just the cream he was inhaling, but the scent of Kristin, mingled with the cream.

      “This is the main screen. The printer is right there.” She indicated a portable laser printer on a table behind them. “I need to go check on my crew now, but you can stay here and print whatever production reports you need. If you get lost in the system, just type ‘MI10’ here.” She showed him a tab on the screen. “That’s a back door to the main reports menu. You can go directly there instead of clicking through the hierarchy of screens.”

      “You know what you’re doing,” he said, impressed at the speed with which she paged through the system.

      “I should. I installed a lot of it.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. Not filled with the pride she should be taking in her work. “What else do you need today?” she asked, very cool and professional.

      It threw him for a bit of a loop. There were dynamics in play here that he wasn’t aware of. Nothing had gone right about this day so far.

      He forced himself to think for a minute, collect himself. “Why don’t I print the reports later? As long as you’re heading to the floor, I’ll tag along with you now.”

      She nodded again, showing no emotion. “Fine.” She glanced at her watch and winced slightly. “I’ve been gone too long, and I left Mindy in charge.”

      He followed Kristin as she strode down the hallway to a section of the old plant with ancient floorboards that creaked when he walked on them. A remainder from the original, nineteenth-century cotton mill it had once been, beside the great flowing river that cut through the classic, small New England factory town. He felt calmer. These were facilities he knew well, both from his university years and his work experience.

      They rounded a corner and bumped into a woman who was headed in their direction, evidently searching for Kristin.

      “I brought you your hot chocolate,” Kristin said to the woman.

      This was Mindy. And Malcolm knew, because she wore a “Hello, my name is Mindy” sticker affixed to her blue-flowered blouse.

      Mindy was shorter than Kristin, and squatter, and when she suddenly sighed and wrapped both chubby arms around Kristin’s waist, her head only reached the top of Kristin’s breasts. For a moment, Malcolm froze. Such shows of affection in the workplace were so out of place, inappropriate...and yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from them.

      “I am sooo tired of snow and cold,” Mindy moaned, her voice muffled between Kristin’s breasts.

      Malcolm swallowed, his heart feeling as if it had stopped. But Kristin wasn’t fazed by the woman.

      “I know, honey.” Kristin hugged Mindy with one arm and patted her on the head while she juggled the mug of hot chocolate in her other hand. “It seems like it’s been snowing for months and months, doesn’t it? But it’s only January.”

      “The new year,” Mindy said. She pushed away from Kristin and faced him. Her eyes were spaced far apart, and she had a distinctive look to her features.

      Ah. He understood. She was...what did they call it? Special Needs.

      “Hello,” Mindy said to him.

      “Er...hello.” He crossed his arms and nodded curtly. No hugs for him today, please, he thought.

      “This is George,” Kristin said to Mindy. “He’s visiting us for the day.”

      Inside, Malcolm cringed. He did not want to bond with anyone here, did not want to risk getting to know them or, God forbid, liking them.

      “What did you do for New Year’s Eve?” Mindy asked him.

      “Er...” He gazed to Kristin for help. She smiled and shook her head as if to say, “You’re on your own.”

      Involuntarily, he swallowed.

      “What did you do for New Year’s Eve?” Mindy asked him again, louder this time.

      He risked glancing at Kristin. She was watching him as if his response was of utmost importance.

      “I...er...went home.”

      “Where is that?” Mindy demanded.

      He felt a muscle in his jaw tick. He looked to Kristin, but she didn’t say a word.

      “I saw my family,” he said quietly. And it killed him to think of it. His life was so out of sync with theirs. He’d stayed two weeks, for Christmas and for Hogmanay—what the Scots called New Year’s Eve—but then after the “first-footing” tradition, he’d been right back on the road again.

      He really was getting tired of the road.

      “Who is in your family?” Mindy asked him.

      “Come,” Kristin interrupted, taking pity on him at last. “We need to get back to the packing room. How are Jeff and Arlene doing?”

      “Good.” Mindy stopped to take a drink of her hot chocolate. She downed half the mug in one long gulp, before Kristin gently took it from her.

      “Let me carry that for you, Mindy,” Kristin said. Mindy allowed Kristin to put her arm around her and lead her down the hallway.

      And just like that, his interrogation was forgotten.

      He paused, catching his breath. Even though it was cool enough to nearly see his breath in the below-room-temperature factory, he was sweating beneath his shirt. A cold perspiration, running in a thin trickle from his armpit down along his bare skin. He was in hell. Women and special needs workers. What was he doing?

      Kristin poked her head around the corner. “Are you coming, George?”

      It was like a dagger to his core. “I... Yes.” But he gripped his notebook and made sure he had his phone in his pocket; he’d need the camera app to take photos of the factory floor.

      He followed Kristin and Mindy. Slowly, he was turning himself numb inside again. Not fighting anymore. He would go with the flow, whatever the day brought. Let Kristin show him the way, but at the same time, stay safely wary.

      But it turned out he didn’t need to be; nobody challenged him. Kristin introduced him to Jeff and Arlene. Jeff was mellow and quiet. He had a thick white beard, wire-rimmed glasses and a habit of saying very little. Arlene was around the same age, but warm and nurturing. She babbled on about a trip to “the British Isles” she was planning to take, and it was only by the grace of God that Kristin didn’t raise a brow at him or otherwise give him away as a possible inhabitant of the Commonwealth.

      She was a blessing to him. And, as she’d promised, Kristin led him on a tour of the plant. It was a light, airy space with high ceilings and tall windows that overlooked a back parking lot and a pine forest that was picturesque—pure New England.

      Malcolm knew the region well; he’d spent his childhood and teen years in two New Hampshire СКАЧАТЬ