Chapter Four

Peterson’s Hardware had been in the same little building across the street and down about a block almost as long as Murphy’s Antiques and Collectibles had been around. If anyone could explain to her how to fix the door knob, it was Mr. Peterson. She stopped at her car to get her purse and then began the short walk to the store.

On her way, she passed her friend Delaney’s bakery—aptly named Delaney’s Delights. She could see her inside behind the counter, chatting to a customer, a huge smile on her face. Any other time, Melody would stop and talk to her good friend, but not right now. She needed to hurry before the hardware store closed. Delaney also had long brown hair, and in school, everyone joked that they could be twins. Now, with that broad smile and her carefree attitude, Melody thought they probably looked nothing alike at all.

Melody’s father had taught her to find the music in everything, and as she walked along, the sounds of the cars passing, people calling to each other, and the swish of her coat all sounded like a disjointed song. She wished she could push those thoughts out of her head. The idea of music without her father was like a song with no melody. Even the bell above the hardware store reminded her of the music her father had taught her to love, music she could no longer enjoy.

The lights in the hardware store were bright, she imagined so that people could more easily search for just the right nut or bolt, and she squinted a bit as she made her way inside. Behind the counter, she saw a disinterested high-school-aged girl with shoulder length blonde hair, peering down behind the counter intently, one hand twirling her hair while the other likely held a cell phone she wasn’t supposed to be using at work.

“Hi, Rylee,” Melody called as she approached. “Is your dad here?”

Rylee looked up, startled. “Oh, hi, Miss Murphy. No, he’s not here right now. I have after school shift all week.”

“Oh,” Melody said with a sigh. “Okay, thanks.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Rylee asked, though her tone implied she hoped the answer was no.

Melody glanced around the shop and saw a few other customers. She was pretty certain the door knobs and accessories were in the back. “I think I’ll just have a look around.”

“Okay,” Rylee shrugged, and as Melody made her way down the nearest aisle, she heard a vibrating sound that could only be the buzz of a secret cell phone.

The door knobs were in the back as she expected, but upon closer inspection, she had no idea exactly what she needed. There were kits that said they contained complete assemblies, some for indoor, some for outdoor. There were also various parts. Melody picked up a few of the packages and looked them over, but they all appeared to be very complicated. Even if she chose the right one, would she have any idea how to put the door knob on?

“Hi.”

A high pitched, squeaky voice took her by surprise, and Melody jumped. She looked around, and at first saw no one, but then she realized she was looking too high. Standing next to her, below waist height, was the cutest little cherub-faced blond boy she’d ever seen. “Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, looking up at her with big blue eyes. He wore a dark blue winter coat, his mittens hanging from strings through each sleeve, his hood flapping behind him.

“I’m looking at door knobs,” she said, trying not to let her irritation filter down to the little inquisitor.

“Michael?” she heard a male voice call, and Melody looked up to see a matching pair of bright blue eyes. The man wore a dark brown work coat over a shirt almost the same color as those eyes, and with his sandy blond hair and athletic build, Melody caught herself staring and quickly closed her mouth.

“Hi, Dad,” the little boy—Michael—called. “I was just looking at door knobs.”

“Door knobs?” the man repeated. “I told you to stay with me.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged and then turned to Melody and flashed a smile.

The man was talking to her now, and Melody tried to focus on what he was saying instead of continuing to stare. “I’m so sorry. He’s a bit… precocious.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she stammered. “He’s adorable.”

“Thank you,” Michael grinned up at her.

His dad looked at him for a moment and shook his head before he added, “Yes, thank you. Come on, Michael, let’s leave this lady alone.” He took his son gently by the shoulder and pulled him back a step.

“But Dad,” Michael protested, “she needs our help.”

Melody had attempted to return her attention to the two door knob kits she was holding, looking back and forth between them as if she had any idea what she was even looking for. “Oh, yeah. No, it’s okay,” she stammered. “I mean… how hard can it be to pick out a door knob?” Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Unless you’re a door knob yourself.”

He was standing next to her now, and if he had heard her last comment, he didn’t say anything in response. Looking at what she had in her hands, he asked, “Well, what kind of door knob was your old one?”

She glanced up and caught his eyes. They were a shade of blue she couldn’t remember ever seeing before, reminding her of the sky on a clear day. “Oh, uh, well, it’s…” she fumbled with the two kits and ended up setting them down on top of a stack of door knob parts. “It’s this one.” She pulled the old door knob out of her purse.

Taking the door knob from her, he turned it over in his hands. “Do you have the other half?” he asked.

“Yes,” Melody assured him. “It’s at home. In the attic. That’s where we usually keep it—only it’s usually attached to this part.”

He laughed, a rich chuckle, and Melody realized that Michael was also giggling, likely because his dad was. “Well, if you have the complete door knob, you should probably just repair it.” He turned it over again, inspecting it closely, before handing it back to her. “I assume you live in an older home, and if that’s the original door knob, you should probably keep it.”

“This is Charles Town,” Melody smiled. “Everyone lives in an older home.”

“True,” he nodded.

His smile was a bit crooked, pulling up at one side of his handsome face slightly more than the other. Melody realized she was staring again. “Well, I would like to keep it, I guess,” she admitted. “I just have no idea how to fix it. I mean, I doubt I’ll be able to figure out how to install a new one either, but I figured that would at least come with directions.”

“It’s really not that difficult,” he replied. “You probably just need one of these,” he said handing her a little package that seemed to contain a few screws and a plate of some sort.

Melody looked at the little package and then back up at him. “Okay…” she said. “But what do I do?”

“You can fix it, Dad,” Michael chimed in, tugging on his father’s coat sleeve. Then to Melody, he added, “My dad can fix anything.”

She could tell by the man’s expression that he wished his son hadn’t volunteered his services, the hesitation showing in the deep breath he held in and then the sigh he slowly released. “Oh, that’s okay,” Melody began, “I don’t want to be any trouble. I should probably just call a handyman. I just… things have been tight. Anyway, maybe between my mom and I, we can figure it out.”

“No, I can do it,” he offered, giving his son a narrowed look. “It’s really not any trouble at all,” he added, flashing Melody a meager smile.

“Clearly, you’re busy. I live over on Washington Avenue. I’d hate to make you drive all the way over there.”

“It’s really no trouble,” he assured her, “and that’s not even that far.”

“And the house is a mess….”

He laughed again. “If you really don’t want me to fix it, I understand, but it will only take a few minutes, and I really don’t mind.”

She glanced down at Michael, whose smile lit the room more brightly than the fluorescent overhead lights. “Okay,” she agreed, with a smile. “I’m Melody, by the way,” she said, fumbling the door knob and the repair kit into her left hand so she could offer her right.

“Reid,” he said, taking her hand.

Melody felt her heartbeat quicken as tingles spread up her arm. She realized she was staring again, and if it weren’t for a tug on her jacket, she may have continued to gaze into his eyes for an even more embarrassing amount of time.

“I’m Michael,” the smallest voice said, and Melody let go of Reid’s hand to pat him on the head.

“I know,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you.” Glancing back up at his dad, she added, “Both of you.”

Melody gave them her address and then went up front to pay, hearing Reid say something to Michael about grabbing a hinge. A few minutes later, she had the repair kit in her hand and was back on the street, happy that the fresh December air seemed to take away the heat from her face. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly released it, and squaring her shoulders, she headed back to her car, reminding herself he was only coming over to fix her door knob—not to sweep her off of her feet. “Besides,” she muttered under her breath, “he’s probably married. He has a son. He’s got to be married.” I wish they had a simple repair kit for broken people.