Bound

Chapter 2 - The Stranger

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Skylar

"You know the drill, Mrs. Ryan. You can rub it on as often as you need, but just a small bit goes a long way." I hand the glass jar containing the orange-tinted balm over to the elderly woman standing before me.

She mumbles a "yes, yes" before handing me the necessary bills and leaving the store. After five weeks, her mobility has improved since using the anti-inflammatory balm currently being stuffed into her oversized handbag. She has been applying it to her arthritic knee, and while she says it's her medication causing the difference, the same drug she has been on for years with no previous results, she still keeps coming back. 

When I first opened, I was lucky if I had even one customer a day walk into my store. After weeks of being open with nearly no sales, I was on the verge of calling it quits. Then one day, Mr. Adams from the bakery across the road came over to purchase some of that same balm for his hands. Someone told him about my shop, and thanks to that stranger, I am now thriving in this little town. As often as I have asked Mr. Adams, he tells me he cannot remember who it was.

The miraculous recovery of Mr. Adam's inflamed hands, caused by age and the never-ending kneading of dough, spread like wildfire. One of the benefits of a close-knit community is that word of mouth travels faster than any social media post ever could. News of my balm spread to the townsfolk, and now a year on, business is booming. I even sell and ship to online customers.

"I'm heading out for a coffee. Do you want anything?" I ask Rene who is spritzing water on the various plants on sale.

"The usual," she says, giving me one of her dazzling smiles.

Six months ago, I hired Rene after she came wandering in here asking me if I was looking for help. At the time I wasn't, but I got such a good vibe from her after a brief conversation that I gave her a job on the spot. The shop was doing well with the locals, and with online sales increasing, I could use another pair of hands. She was an outsider like myself in this town, which made me empathize with her. Ultimately, I guess that's what swayed my decision.

She is two years younger than me, vegan, and loves plants nearly as much as I do. Her dress style and mannerisms make me think she has been transported straight out of the hippie period from the sixties. She is my height, 5'5" tall, lean but femininely muscular, with a more tanned complexion compared to my paler, I-get-burnt-just-looking-at-the-sun skin.

She also has gorgeous blue eyes, as opposed to my plain hazel ones, topped off with thick wavy black hair which reaches her waist. Her wavy hair seems effortlessly under control. The bottom half of my hair is the only part under control, owing to the partial locs. The top half is another story altogether. It is a naturally curly red mess reaching just below my shoulder blades. Definitely not effortlessly under control, more like effortlessly chaotic.

Just as I'm about to leave, the phone rings. Rene answers it, her face scrunching up when she hears the voice on the other side.

"I'll get her for you." The cool tone of her voice and her facial expression already tells me who is on the other side. My suspicion is confirmed when she holds the phone out to me.  

"It's Chris," she says, rolling her eyes and gagging. 

From the first moment she spoke to him on the phone, she instantly disliked the faceless voice. Bizarre, considering she has never met the man, and her interactions have been purely work-related. I, on the other hand, find his voice attractive and his personality charming. He supplies me with the more exotic herbs I require for my herbal infusions. The quality of his herbs is unparalleled with any I have seen before, besides mine, and his pricing isn't bad either. I'm lucky he found me.