Grady had spent most of his adult life after the army doing construction. He was good with his hands and knew enough about tools and farm equipment that he figured it might be something he could do. He’d even done some customer service in his past, though even if he hadn’t, he was willing to try anything once.
Early the following morning, he typed the address in his phone and headed over.
As he drove through town, he couldn’t help thinking about Nathan growing up here, about some of the stories Nathan had told him, both good and bad. Growing up Black in a Southern rural community hadn’t always been easy. Nathan had loved his hometown, though, had said one day he wanted to go back, that it had grown and changed and he wanted to be part of that. It killed Grady that Nathan never had that chance.
It didn’t take him long to make the drive to Harmony, which was even smaller than Everett. Covington Supply Co wasn’t hard to find—a large, white building with a nursery out back and riding lawn mowers and small tractors for sale out front. If he’d been applying for a job in the city, he would have done it online, and while he was sure that was an option here, something told him he should head down in person. He had a feeling that in a place like Briar County, people liked that. It made it more personable.
Plus, he wanted to check it out before he decided. He was at a place in his life where he wanted to be comfortable. He was proud of who he was—it had taken him long enough to come out of the closet, and he sure as shit didn’t ever plan to go back in—and if he didn’t get a good vibe from Covington Supply, he didn’t want to work there.
It was nice inside, spacious and clean. Even though it was early and they’d just opened, there were quite a few customers already browsing around.
He took a few minutes to roam the aisles and was on his third one when he saw an older gentleman trying to get something off the top shelf. He was reaching high, despite the signs warning to ask for assistance. Grady saw the man’s arms shake, the container wobble and rushed toward him, reaching him just before the fumbled box hit the top of the man’s head.
“Thank ya for that.” The man’s cheeks went pink, and it was clear he was embarrassed for almost busting his head. “I thought I could get it on my own,” he added wistfully just as Grady noticed someone coming quickly around the corner, his eyes wide.
“Perry! How many times have I told you about that? You could’ve hurt yourself.”
“Sorry, Roe,” the older man—Perry—told the newcomer. “I’ll, um…be going now.” He sped off empty-handed.
Roe shook his head, evidently having experienced that before, and said to Grady, “Thank you so much for the help. You’re a lifesaver. He doesn’t like to ask for help.” He held out his hand. “Monroe Covington.”
Ah, now the Roe made sense. “Grady Dalton.” They shook. “As in Covington Supply Co?”
“The one and only.” Monroe chuckled. “Well, that’s not completely true. There are a lot of Covingtons, and my dad is Monroe too, though he goes by Charles, but I’m the only one who owns the Supply Co. Most work out at the farm.”
“Farm?”
“Oh, you’re definitely new to the area. The family runs Covington Acres—apples in the fall, winter activities during the cooler months, and everything you could possibly do with goats.”
Grady remembered something about that…Nathan telling him about the farm, though he hadn’t remembered the name. He grinned. “Well, this is quite the coincidence, and I understand if you’re busy or need to direct me to speak with someone else, but I came down today to inquire about the part-time job. You’re right about me being new. I moved to Everett a couple of weeks back.”
Monroe snapped his fingers. “That’s why you look familiar. I saw you a few days ago. I was with my family at Sundae’s Best, and you came in looking for Deacon.”
Shit. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to explain that. Grady hadn’t paid much attention to the customers when he’d asked about Deacon, only to discover he wasn’t at the ice cream parlor, so he didn’t specifically remember Monroe. “They have great ice cream,” he said, hoping that would steer Monroe away from him asking about Deacon.
“They sure do,” Monroe replied. “Come sit down with me and tell me a little about yourself.”
Damn. He hadn’t expected that. He’d thought he’d fill out an application and be done with it. “I don’t want to take up your time if you’re busy.”
“It’s okay. I’m a simple kinda guy, and I have a good feeling about you, so we can talk some and take it from there.”