{"id":2715,"date":"2018-09-24T09:18:13","date_gmt":"2018-09-24T16:18:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/?p=2715"},"modified":"2018-09-24T15:16:33","modified_gmt":"2018-09-24T22:16:33","slug":"the-screw","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/archives\/2715","title":{"rendered":"The Screw"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"elk<\/a><\/p>\n

Elk Cloud<\/em> photo by Todd<\/p>\n

in the spirit of Isaac Bashevis Singer<\/i><\/p>\n

In the large coastal town of Croft\u2019s Landing, Oregon, there are three hardware stores: Anderson\u2019s, Pirelli\u2019s, and Lowenstein\u2019s. Each of the owners of these stores has a twenty-seven-year-old son who has been in love with Josie Parsons since at least high school, and in the case of Noah Lowenstein, since kindergarten.<\/p>\n

Josie, who is also twenty-seven, was queen of the Senior Ball and valedictorian at Croft\u2019s Landing High, attended Yale on a full scholarship, graduated summa cum laude<\/i> in Drama, and moved to New York to take the theatre world by storm, only her storm never gathered much strength because she was forever falling in love with charming louts instead of pursuing her career and she eventually ran out of money and maxed out her credit cards and came back to Croft\u2019s Landing to live at home, get a job, and pay off the staggering debt she accrued while living in Manhattan for five years.<\/p>\n

Josie\u2019s mother Constance is fifty-four and nobody\u2019s fool. Born and raised in Croft\u2019s Landing, the oldest of five farm kids, Constance turned down a full scholarship to Harvard and chose instead to attend nearby Oregon State. Upon graduating summa cum laude<\/i> in Business, Constance returned to Croft\u2019s Landing, married Jerry Parsons, had two children, Everett and Josie, and when Everett was in Third Grade and Josie was in First, Constance started helping people with their computers and now she has more work than she and her three employees can handle, the name of her business: Computer Help<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Josie\u2019s father Jerry is fifty-seven, kind and generous and forever forgetting who he loaned money to. Born in Astoria, Oregon, Jerry was a commercial fisherman until he was forty-five, quit fishing when the catch became too iffy, and thereafter drove a school bus for six years before buying Zebra<\/i>, a failing copy shop and stationery store. When Zebra<\/i> continued to flounder after four years of pouring Constance\u2019s hard earned money into the business, Jerry gave Zebra<\/i> to Everett who was at loose ends after graduating summa cum laude<\/i> in Studio Art from Evergreen College.<\/p>\n

Everett added art supplies and a caf\u00e9 component to Zebra<\/i>, business boomed, and today there are seven Zebras<\/i> in towns throughout Oregon and Washington, with three more Zebras<\/i> opening soon. Jerry now works part-time in the original Zebra<\/i> as a barista and recently began propagating cacti he plans to sell via his web site Gorgeous Glochids<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Josie works for Everett now, too, scouting locations for future Zebras<\/i>, overseeing inventory in the seven shops, helping with in-store design and lighting, and producing radio and television spots. She has her eye on the vacant and decrepit Avalon Theatre in downtown Croft\u2019s Landing and dreams of starting a collective of actors and dancers and artisans who will renovate the Avalon and perform original cutting-edge drama and dance there to be broadcast globally via the Internet.<\/p>\n

However, pursuing theatrical glory pales next to her burning desire to get married and have children.<\/p>\n

Everett, tall and lanky and red-haired like his father, sharp-witted and no-nonsense like his mother, his hair a few inches shorter than his sister\u2019s shoulder-length auburn locks, gazes across the kitchen dining table at Josie and says, \u201cYou never finish one thing before you start another. That\u2019s your lifelong pattern. Why not get out of debt and then<\/i> buy the Avalon? Pay off the Avalon and then<\/i> have kids?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd live at home until I\u2019m fifty?\u201d Josie glares at her brother. \u201cMen can make babies until they\u2019re eighty. Women have much smaller windows of optimal opportunity.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA baby at eighty,\u201d says Jerry, contemplating his spaghetti. \u201cCan you imagine?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho do you want to marry?\u201d asks Constance, renowned for cutting to the chase. \u201cAre you in love with someone?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI fell in love three times in New York,\u201d says Josie, closing her eyes and shaking her head. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t want to marry any of those guys, let alone have kids with them.\u201d She opens her eyes. \u201cNo, I think the Chinese and Indians and Africans and Jews and just about everybody else in the olden days had it right. Let the wise elders find the best man for the job.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jerry, who is never immediately certain when his wife and kids are being facetious, looks first at Everett who is gazing in horror at Josie, next at Constance, whose mouth is open in disbelief, and lastly at Josie, who seems as forlorn as Jerry has ever seen her.<\/p>\n

\u201cI nominate your mother,\u201d says Jerry, raising his right hand. \u201cShe\u2019s never wrong about people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI second the nomination,\u201d says Everett, his horror changing to delight. \u201cThis could be good. We should film this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI accept the nomination,\u201d says Constance, gazing in wonder at her daughter.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll in favor say aye<\/i>,\u201d says Josie, her eyes full of tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d say Jerry and Constance and Everett.<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

\u201cI have narrowed the field to three candidates,\u201d says Constance, sitting down across the table from Josie at Chish & Fips<\/i>, their favorite seafood joint, renowned for stupendous food and a maddening menu. \u201cWhat are you having?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe cham clowder,\u201d says Josie, despondently stirring her soup. \u201cLet me guess. Brett Anderson, David Pirelli, and Noah Lowenstein.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey were on your approved list,\u201d says Constance, opening her notebook. \u201cNobody else I\u2019m aware of comes close to those three.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHi Constance,\u201d says Susie Kwong, the one and only lunchtime waitress at Chish & Fips<\/i>. \u201cCoffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, please,\u201d says Constance, perusing the menu. \u201cWhat\u2019s your Datch of the Kay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSned Rapper,\u201d says Susie, serving Constance a cup of piping hot coffee. \u201cOn a bed of Rasmati Bice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have that and a small Cesar salad,\u201d says Constance, adding cream to her coffee. \u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBe just a few,\u201d says Susie, sauntering away.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t marry Brett Anderson,\u201d says Josie, shaking her head. \u201cHe\u2019s like a second older brother. I would feel incestuous every time we had sex.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I\u2019ll take him off the list,\u201d says Constance, her pen poised above Brett\u2019s name.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, leave him on,\u201d says Josie, anguished. \u201cI\u2019m still holding out hope I\u2019ll meet some guy in a bar. I\u2019m going to Portland next week. Who knows what might happen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait a minute,\u201d says Constance, closing her notebook. \u201cI\u2019m taking time off from work to do this, Josie. If you\u2019re not serious about me finding you a husband, I\u2019ll stop right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t stop, Mama,\u201d says Josie, shaking her head. \u201cI want you to choose my husband. I really do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Constance, opening her notebook again. \u201cSo\u2026Brett, David, and Noah are all healthy, smart, personable men with good jobs, and they\u2019re all madly in love with you, so much so they\u2019ve all stayed single despite numerous opportunities to get married. Also, I get along well with their mothers, which is no small thing since we\u2019ll be sharing grandmother duties.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you saying Brett and David and Noah are still single because of me<\/i>?\u201d says Josie, outraged. \u201cDon\u2019t be ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow else can you explain it?\u201d says Constance, looking at her notes. \u201cBrett could have married Allison Cromwell or Tina Martinez in a heartbeat. And David? Half the women in town shop at Pirelli\u2019s just to be with him for a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about Noah?\u201d says Josie, remembering how much she loved playing guitars with him in high school.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho knows about Noah,\u201d says Constance, shrugging. \u201cBut this is what some people do, Josie. Not just men. Women, too. They wait as long as they can, sometimes forever, for the loves of their lives to choose them. And you, so far, are the love of these three men\u2019s lives. Has a day gone by since you came home from New York that they haven\u2019t called you or come by the house or dropped by Zebra<\/i> to see you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrett and David, yeah,\u201d says Josie, sighing. \u201cNot Noah. He\u2019s too proud to chase me, or too shy, though he did ask me to go to the play with him on Friday. That should be fun. A Thousand Clowns<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy point is they are all viable options.\u201d Constance closes her notebook. \u201cThe question is if you had to choose one of them, who would it be?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d says Josie, despondently. \u201cThat\u2019s always been the problem. I never wanted to hurt any of their feelings, so I never chose any<\/i> of them. They\u2019re pals. They meet for beer and darts at The Raven every Thursday night. They play basketball together every Saturday morning. We should take them off the list.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Constance, nodding her thanks as Susie serves the snapper. \u201cThat leaves Mike Soper and Tom Rafferty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh God,\u201d says Josie, gnawing on her thumbnail. \u201cPut Brett and David and Noah back on. And you choose. Okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Constance, her heart pounding. \u201cGive me a few days.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

\u201cJerry?\u201d asks Constance, unable to sleep. \u201cHoney? You awake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d says Jerry, waking up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou awake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you have a preference?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrett or David or Noah. For Josie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoney\u2026you know me. I like them all. I\u2019ve known them since they were little boys. How could I choose? What does Everett say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe says Josie needs therapy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWasn\u2019t she crazy about Brett in high school?\u201d asks Jerry, yawning. \u201cSenior year?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. After he made that interception and won the homecoming game she was crazy about him for a few weeks and they did some heavy petting and then she was in The Taming of the Shrew<\/i> with David and was crazy about him and they almost but not quite went all the way, and then in the summer before she went to Yale she and Noah were together every day writing songs and going on long walks and who knows how far they went and then she left for college and Brett and David were devastated.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about Noah? Wasn\u2019t he devastated?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, because\u2026I don\u2019t think he ever thought Josie would choose him, so he had no hopes to be dashed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s very poetic, honey.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s poetic?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe had no hopes to be dashed. That\u2019s beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re so sweet,\u201d she says, snuggling with him. \u201cI never wanted anybody but you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Constance visits her mother Erma, a spry eighty-seven, at Pine Cone Valley Senior Community on the northern outskirts of Croft\u2019s Landing. They have lunch in the cheerful dining hall and Constance updates Erma on the search for Josie\u2019s husband.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe three finalists are Brett and David and Noah. But I\u2019m having a terrible time picking a winner. Any suggestions?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d says Erma, cocking her head to one side as if straining to hear something, \u201cif this was a fairy tale they would have to prove themselves with feats of strength and intelligence and\u2026like that.\u201d She returns her head to an upright position. \u201cSome sort of test that two fail and one passes. Right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome sort of test,\u201d says Constance, the back of her neck tingling. \u201cLike what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe they have to solve some sort of riddle,\u201d says Erma, looking out the window at wisps of fog blowing by. \u201cAnd the one who solves the riddle is noble and good. Right? That\u2019s how he knows the answer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause he\u2019s noble and good?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn fairy tales,\u201d says Erma, nodding. \u201cYeah. Something in his character allows him to solve the riddle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Brett Anderson, tall and broad-shouldered with a heroic chin, his blond hair in a ponytail, is standing behind the checkout counter in his father\u2019s hardware store watching football highlights on his phone when Constance gets his attention by knocking on the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, hey, Mrs. Parsons,\u201d he says, freezing the highlights and pocketing his phone. \u201cWhat do you need?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m looking for one of these,\u201d she says, holding up a wood screw, three-and-a-quarter-inches-long and a bit less than a sixteenth-of-an-inch in diameter. \u201cFixing an old table my great grandfather made for my grandmother when she was a little girl. Precious old keepsake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUm,\u201d says Brett, wrinkling his nose, \u201cthose would be in the screw section. Aisle Eight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you show me?\u201d asks Constance, nodding hopefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cI would,\u201d says Brett, grimacing, \u201cbut I\u2019m totally swamped right now. Hold on a sec, I\u2019ll get somebody to help you.\u201d He picks up the in-store walkie-talkie. \u201cYeah, customer needs help finding a screw. Thanks.\u201d He sets down the walkie-talkie. \u201cThey\u2019ll meet you in Aisle Eight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho will meet me, Brett?\u201d asks Constance, sounding disappointed.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm\u2026\u201d he says, shrugging. \u201cGomez probably? I\u2019m not sure. Why? Did you want somebody in particular to help you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I wanted you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d he asks, scrunching up his cheeks. \u201cWhat difference does it make?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you,\u201d she says, turning away. \u201cMakes the experience more enjoyable for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNext time,\u201d he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket and unfreezing the highlights. \u201cWhen I\u2019m not so swamped.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

David Pirelli, olive-skinned and rakishly handsome, his black hair long on top, the sides shaved, a small diamond embedded in his right earlobe, his forearms tattooed with Chinese dragons, is loading cans of paint into the trunk of a car when Constance pulls into the adjacent parking spot.<\/p>\n

After shutting the trunk of the paint buyer\u2019s car, David opens Constance\u2019s door for her and says, \u201cWelcome to Pirelli\u2019s, Mrs. P.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, David,\u201d she says, beaming at him as she gets out. \u201cHow gallant of you. Do you open doors for everyone or just for Josie\u2019s mother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou get special treatment,\u201d he says, winking at her. \u201cWhat brings you here today?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m looking for one of these,\u201d she says, proffering the slender screw. \u201cFixing an old table my great grandfather made for my grandmother when she was a little girl. Precious old keepsake.\u201d<\/p>\n

David takes the screw from her, studies the old thing and says, \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure they don\u2019t make these anymore, but come with me and we\u2019ll see if we can find a close facsimile.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the screw section, after a quick search in a few of the many little drawers, David declares, \u201cAs I suspected, we don\u2019t have anything this small in diameter that\u2019s also this long. I doubt they make them anymore. Does it have to be this skinny?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would prefer it to be that skinny,\u201d says Constance, opening a drawer of long thin screws. \u201cIt\u2019s not one of these?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, those are eighth<\/i>-of-an-inch in diameter,\u201d he says, handing the screw back to her. \u201cI told you they don\u2019t make long screws that thin anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what should I do?\u201d she asks, feigning helplessness.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could use a larger-diameter screw. Pre-drill the hole to make it bigger so you don\u2019t split the wood when you put the screw in. That should do it.\u201d He shrugs pleasantly. \u201cI don\u2019t know what else to tell you, Mrs. P.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did the best you could,\u201d says Constance, nodding. \u201cThank you, David.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy pleasure,\u201d he says, accompanying her to the exit. \u201cSorry we couldn\u2019t find the exact same one.\u201d He stops abruptly. \u201cHey you know what I just thought of? Antique furniture stores. They might have boxes of old screws you could look through. Worth a try.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood idea,\u201d says Constance, going out the door. \u201cThanks so much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Noah Lowenstein, a soccer player in high school and now an avid playground basketball player, his brown hair longish and curly, is in the lumberyard behind the big hardware store helping Chico Alvarez select the very best twelve-feet-long redwood planks for a deck Chico is building.<\/p>\n

Constance stands twenty feet away from Noah and Chico and watches the two strong young men search through several stacks of planks until they find fifteen beauties, which they load onto the lumber rack of Chico\u2019s pickup.<\/p>\n

\u201cMuchas Gracias, Noah,\u201d says Chico, shaking Noah\u2019s hand before turning to Constance and saying, \u201cHola Se\u00f1ora Parsons. This is the best place to buy wood. They don\u2019t let you hunt for the good ones at those other places.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs my grandfather used to say,\u201d says Noah, greeting Constance with a little wave, \u201cpicky customers are better than no customers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid he really say that?\u201d asks Constance, impulsively taking Noah\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe really did,\u201d says Noah, walking into the store with her. \u201cHe also said, \u2018Customers who hold your hand get a ten per cent discount.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I made that up. But it\u2019s not a bad idea for a promotional gimmick. Come into Lowenstein\u2019s, hold our hands, and we\u2019ll give you a ten percent discount.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNeeds work,\u201d says Constance, surprised that Noah seems in no hurry to let go of her hand, so she is the one to let go.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me guess,\u201d says Noah, striking a thoughtful pose. \u201cYou\u2019re picking up more potting mix for Jerry\u2019s cacti.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d says Constance, bringing forth the ancient screw. \u201cI need to get another one of these. I\u2019m restoring an old table my great grandfather made for my grandmother when she was a little girl. Precious old keepsake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis one fell out?\u201d asks Noah, taking the screw from her and placing it in the palm of his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, \u201csays Constance, watching Noah\u2019s face to see if he believes her. \u201cOne was missing, so I took this one out to show you what I need.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d says Noah, carefully scrutinizing the screw. \u201cWell\u2026these are not mass produced anymore as far as I know, and maybe they never were. Are you in a hurry, Constance?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she says, wondering if he senses something more than buying a screw is going on. \u201cWhy do you ask?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to do a little sleuthing,\u201d he says, bouncing his eyebrows. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome to come with me, but if you\u2019ve got other things to do, you could come back in an hour and I\u2019ll have something for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnother screw like this screw?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he says, nodding confidently.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think you have one? Here in the store?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe will either have one,\u201d says Noah, beckoning her to follow him. \u201cOr we will be getting one. About this I am confident.\u201d<\/p>\n

Constance follows Noah through the store to a double metal door that swings open into a large storage area beyond which are three offices, one the domain of store manager Guillermo Macias, one the den of Noah\u2019s sister Brenda Lowenstein-Adebayo, assistant manager, and one Noah\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d says Noah, ushering Constance into his cluttered office, \u201cI will make a quick phone call and then we\u2019ll go from there. Have a seat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNoah?\u201d says Constance, sitting down. \u201cThis seems like an awful lot of trouble for one little screw.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn the contrary,\u201d he says, picking up his old landline phone. \u201cThis is my favorite part of the job.\u201d He taps in a number and waits a moment. \u201cSven. Hi, it\u2019s Noah. Got a minute? Great. So here\u2019s what\u2019s happening. I\u2019ve got an old steel wood screw. A little longer than three inches and not even a sixteenth-of-an-inch in diameter. Almost a fat needle with threads. From an old handmade table.\u201d He listens. \u201cAt least a hundred years old.\u201d He looks at the screw. \u201cYeah. Could be. You have anything like that?\u201d He listens. \u201cSure. I understand. Thanks so much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo luck?\u201d says Constance, enjoying Noah\u2019s performance.<\/p>\n

\u201cSven suggests\u2026Sven is in Portland and knows absolutely everything about screws and nails and bolts and nuts and hinges and so forth\u2026he suggests that this screw was probably not manufactured in the United States, but more likely was made in England or Germany or Switzerland.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow interesting,\u201d says Constance, frowning. \u201cMy great grandfather was German.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is<\/i> interesting,\u201d says Noah, raising a knowing finger, \u201cbut it doesn\u2019t alter the fact that these kinds of screws are probably not made in Germany anymore, unless somebody is making them by hand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what do we do?\u201d she asks, holding her breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe make one by hand,\u201d he says, winking at her. \u201cFollow me.\u201d<\/p>\n

On their way to the machine shop at the west end of the hardware store, Constance says, \u201cMay I ask you something, Noah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d he says, turning to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you going to all this trouble for me because I\u2019m Josie\u2019s mother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he says, reddening and laughing. \u201cI would do this for anyone, though it is more enjoyable doing this for you because I\u2019m\u2026I\u2019m comfortable with you because\u2026I know you like me, so\u2026but I\u2019d do this for anyone because that\u2019s how we do things here. That\u2019s the mission, as my father likes to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is the mission?\u201d asks Constance, gazing in wonder at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI imagine it\u2019s the same one you have at Computer Help. Helping people achieve their goals.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d says Constance, trying not to cry. \u201cYou\u2019ve certainly done that for me today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Late Friday night, Josie comes home from her theatre date with Noah, and finds Constance and Jerry sitting together on the sofa in the living room, a fire blazing in the woodstove, the house toasty.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d says Josie, quietly. \u201cI didn\u2019t expect you guys would still be up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have something to tell you,\u201d says Constance, taking hold of Jerry\u2019s hand to give her courage.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou made your choice,\u201d says Josie, placing both hands on her heart. \u201cOh, Mama, I\u2019m sorry, but Noah just asked me to marry him and I said Yes<\/i> before he could even finish asking me and I realized he\u2019s always been the one. I just needed some time to grow up, and so did he.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

\u201cJerry?\u201d asks Constance, unable to sleep. \u201cYou awake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d he says, waking from a dream. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you awake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think so. Talk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think Noah asked Josie to marry him because I went to see him and he intuited what was going on and\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. It\u2019s all because of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot all,\u201d she says, snuggling with him. \u201cBut partly?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll,\u201d he says, drifting back to sleep. \u201cEverything.\u201d<\/p>\n

fin<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Elk Cloud photo by Todd in the spirit of Isaac Bashevis Singer In the large coastal town of Croft\u2019s Landing, Oregon, there are three hardware stores: Anderson\u2019s, Pirelli\u2019s, and Lowenstein\u2019s. Each of the owners of these stores has a twenty-seven-year-old son who has been in love with Josie Parsons since at least high school, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[897,4995,4993,2545,4987,4998,5000,4988,4999,4989,402,5007,3625,5002,5006,49,4997,5001,5004,51,4996,4990,4994,5008,5005,4991,9,33,5003,4992],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2715"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2715"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2715\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2720,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2715\/revisions\/2720"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2715"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2715"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2715"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}