Chapter 2-2
783 Words
Richard continued washing, silent. When he dried his hands, he took a long time unrolling his sleeves. The man acted as if Ethan hadn’t spoken. Typical.
“Hard to forget,” Richard at last mumbled. Took him some effort, too, judging by his expression.
“You deserved it.” The pronouncement didn’t sit easy but the poor little rich boy riled him back then, irritated him now. Ethan settled against the countertop, backside resting on the edge, legs crossed and angled out before him. On the surface, he remained relaxed. Inner turmoil made him queasy.
More seconds ticked by, leaving Ethan convinced, once finished, the man intended to walk out without another word. So when Richard’s sharp eyes flicked up, his direct gaze struck Ethan like lightning. Hell, but he didn’t want to react. He flinched from no man and no fight. The notion Richard didn’t care died under the man’s penetrating stare. More things had changed than Ethan imagined possible.
“You’re right. I did deserve it. Or at least some punishment. I insulted you. You threw the insult back. I retorted with worse and you…Well, I’m not a man who believes in violence, but I deserved a slap. Not sure if my behaviour warranted you trying to make me eat dirt, but we’ll forget about that.”
Well, blow him; Richard Gardener had grown up. Invisible strings curled Ethan’s lips. “You recollect the insults?”
“Hard not to.” Richard’s colour deepened, and he fidgeted, uncomfortable, maybe embarrassed. His flickering gaze fell on the tea.
“I’ve not spat in it or dosed it with strychnine.”
Despite the assurance, seconds trickled by before Richard picked up the mug. The man held the vessel as though he wanted to warm his hands more than to drink, but after a moment, he took a sip. “You were in my way and I told you to get off the path. I said you didn’t have the right to be there.”
“And I argued. Said I had as much right as you. More so.”
“To which I replied, no, you didn’t. My family allowed you because your father was only a gardener here.” Rich hesitated. “I’m sorry I used the words allowed and only.”
“And I said he made a better gardener than you could ever hope to or some such crap, playing on your name, and…” Ethan trailed away.
“You jumped on me.”
“Sure did.”
“And your father…” At last, Richard’s lips twitched, stretching. “Did he whip your arse?”
Hard to tell which was funnier—discussing a childish battle and remembering it so well, or to hear Richard say arse.
“No. He…” Once more, he came to a halt, not wanting to discuss his father.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Did you hope so?”
Richard gave him a long, slow blink. “At the time, yes. Now, no. If you try to make me eat dirt again, I may change my mind.”
Dirt wasn’t what he wanted Richard to eat, but none of his fantasies were about to come true. “So you’re back to run the family fortune.”
“Well that didn’t take long.”
Richard setting the mug aside brought Ethan to his feet, though he froze when Richard didn’t at once storm out. With no need to block him, Ethan stood like an imbecile in the middle of the room. Didn’t move. Didn’t lean back. He wasn’t through with his boss, having always found Richard handsome, and though he’d outgrown throwing punches, he wouldn’t let the man flee. The two eyed each other, neither apparently aware of what to do or say.
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Ethan wanted to make that clear.
“Yet you always make it sound like one.”
“Same way you make honest work sound like I’m Oliver Twist. I’m no beggar or a thief.”
“And I’m not my father. Nor did I ask to be. You at least enjoy your job so where does that leave me?” A moment of silence spun out, leaving Ethan with the sensation they were as shocked as each other. “I didn’t intend a confession.”
“Obviously.” Ethan still wasn’t ready to let Richard off the pitchfork. “What makes you think I wanna be here anymore than you do?”
“I thought…” An ineffectual hand gesture and a creased brow accompanied the broken statement. “Don’t you?”
“I appreciate gardening if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh. So it’s working for my family you hate.”
Well, shoot. The boss should have more trouble understanding him. Immobile with puzzlement and indecision, Ethan did nothing as Richard strode over to the door.
Stupid. The whole disagreement. The last quarter of an hour. Richard Gardener might walk out and arrange for Ethan’s dismissal. Worse, they might never speak again. Hard to admit, but Ethan didn’t want either outcome.
The man reached for the latch as Ethan snapped out, “Wait.”
Richard spun around. “It’s Rich.”
“What?”
“My name. I go by Rich these days.”
Took a few seconds to make sense. “You go by…But…” No. Too priceless. Ethan laughed.
“What do you find so funny?”
The question made him chuckle more; his eyes watered. “Sorry. It’s…” Oh God, he snorted. “It’s…” No, he still couldn’t find enough air. “To think…It’s too hysterical. Rich Gardener. Poor gardener.” Ethan flapped a hand, wishing the action might wave away his giggles. “You and me. What a pair. Rich man, poor man. Oh so…So silly.”
Thank goodness Richard smiled…and leaned against the door, staying awhile longer.
- Writer
