“I’ll get your tools, then,” he said.
“Thanks.”
She waited while the old man gathered the tools in the back. Wondering how much they’d cost, she figured that owning a home, she would need all sorts of tools. And a lawn mower for the large strips of grass flanking the drive. Or she would hire a service.
“Here ya go.” The old man placed the tools on the counter. “I know these are kinda old-looking cause the handles are worn, a bit rusty in places that don’t matter. No need wasting your money on new ones—these will get the job done, and you’re only out twenty bucks.”
“No way, twenty dollars isn’t nearly enough,” she said as she took some cash from her wallet.
“Now listen here, I’ve owned this old shop for almost forty years. We buy used tools and sell ’em. No harm in that, don’t ya agree? If I told ya what I paid for these”—he nodded at the tools—“you’d think I’s ripping you off charging twenty bucks. Now, let’s get these bagged up. If you need to rent the mower, you know where to find me. I’m Gib,” he said. “Least that’s what folks been calling me most a my life.” He chuckled.
“Gib, I’ll remember that,” she said, giving the old man a smile. “I’m Alison.”
“Nice to meet ya, Alison. Where ya gonna live? In the Pass or the island?” he asked while he put her tools in a box.
“You mean Matlacha Pass?”
“The one and only. Best fishing spot in Florida.”
“No, I’m in the process of buying a place on the beach,” she told him, wondering if he knew which house, and if he had a story to tell, too.
“Lucky gal, the beach is quiet most of the time. Purdy sunsets, too,” he added.
She was relieved when he didn’t have a negative comment. “I haven’t watched a sunset, but I plan to this evening. I’m sure it’s stunning.”
“Ain’t nothing like it, Miss Ali,” he said. “One of the best in the entire state a Florida. Colors you ain’t never seen before.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at him calling her “Miss” Ali, though she didn’t mind it in his grandfatherly way. And since she was starting a new life, she decided then and there to call herself Ali from now on.
“I’ll find out this evening, Gib. I’m good with the secondhand tools. When they wear out, I’ll just sell them back to you.” Grinning as she said this, she was fairly sure she wouldn’t need to sell them back. If all went according to plan with Kimberly on Monday morning, when the time came, she’d purchase more supplies from him.
“You’re a smart gal,” he said. “Now remember, if ya need to rent the mower, you just give me a call, and I’ll have Hal deliver it to your place. He’ll show you how to operate the mower and the scrubber too. You got an address, just in case.”
She was almost afraid to give it to him, fearing he would start spouting off horror stories as Lacey had. “The little yellow beach house.”
“I know where the place is,” said Gib, his expression hardened.
She was prepared for another tall tale, and when he didn’t add a story about the old house, she sighed in relief.
“When or if I need that equipment, I’ll give you a call,” she said. “Do you have a card?”
“Yep,” he said, taking a card from a holder in the shape of a wrench and giving it to her. This old guy was the nicest person she’d encountered, other than Renée and Valentina. Lacey and Fish-Eyes from the coffee shop weren’t going to ruin this for her. Though Fish-Eyes hadn’t really offended her, just wouldn’t accept her tip.
“I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Hey now, no need to rush out of here so fast,” Gib told her, turning around and shouting to someone named Hal. “Hal, I need ya up front.” To her, he said, “No need for you to carry this; it’s on the heavy side. Hal’s a strapping fella. Got more muscle than he does brains.”
Hal came out of the back room. He was over six feet tall with muscles that Arnold Schwarzenegger would envy. He sported a shaved head, military style, and a patchy beard. He had dark brown eyes and smiled when he saw her. Ali guessed him to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties.
“Morning, ma’am,” Hal said in a friendly voice. “I can lift heavy stuff. One time I lifted Mr. Gib over my head. I don’t think he liked it very much. I can drive too, right, Mr. Gib?”
Gib winked at her. “As I said, he’s a strappin’ fella. Lifts just about anything you could imagine.”
“Thank you, Hal. I appreciate your help.” She realized he had the mentality of a young child, maybe ten or twelve.
“It’s my job, ma’am. But I would carry anything Mr. Gib asked me to. I carry lots of stuff for Mr. Gib all the time.”
“I’m sure you would. You look like a strong man,” she said.
He grinned at her, then flexed his right bicep. “See my muscle?”
Childlike, but kind. She guessed her first impression of him was accurate. She had more respect for developmentally disabled folks than most.
“I do believe that’s the biggest muscle I’ve ever seen,” said Ali, and it was true.
“Really?” Hal asked, his eyes opening wide when she told him.
“Yes, really.”
“Hal, Miss Ali has work to do. You take this box to her car, then you come right back, you hear?”
“I will,” Hal said.
Ali said, “My Jeep is in the parking lot.” She took the keys from her purse. “Follow me. Gib, I can’t thank you enough for your help, and the best deal I’ve had in a very long time.”
“It’s all right, Miss Ali,” he said. “Now go on—you got lots a work to do.”
As instructed, Hal brought her box of new old tools to her Jeep. She unlocked the back, showing him where to put the box.
“Okay, Miss Ali.”
Unsure whether she should tip him, she reached in her purse took out a ten-dollar bill, giving it to him.
“What is this for? Mr. Gib pays me,” he said, a perplexed expression on his face.
“That is a tip. It’s for good work.”
“Oh. Then I will tell Mr. Gib to make all of his customers do this too,” he said. “ ’Cause they don’t.”
“Okay, Hal. That’s between you and Mr. Gib. I’ll see you soon.” They spoke for a couple minutes more before she left.
Once inside the Jeep, after several assurances that Hal would do an excellent job if she needed to hire him for anything, she drove to the beach’s public parking lot. No way would she park here when she moved into her new home. Whatever she needed to do to clear out all the growth, she was determined to have a private drive like the grander homes. Instead of dragging the box with all the heavy tools, she took just the ones she’d need to get started. They weren’t heavy, just awkward.
Her purse and weapon strapped across her chest, she held her big shovel in one hand, the shears in the other. If Renée showed and still wanted to spend her day ripping the roots out of the ground from the more manageable shrubbery, they’d go get the rest of the tools. At least that’s what Ali called all this green overgrowth. Later, she would learn to identity the plant names; for now, it didn’t matter.