Prove Me Wrong Read Free Page A

“Clara,” I said. “Clara Daniels.” But before he could ask his next question, I cut him off by adding, “And I’ll tell you my age, alma mater, and drink of choice once you’ve helped me set Geoff up on that wall there.”
                  The man looked back down on Geoff as if he had momentarily forgotten about him.
                  “You want me to nail the moose head onto the wall,” he said in a flat voice as if still not able to believe he was standing next to Geoff.
                  I shrugged. “For a start,” I said, now eyeing my studio space. “But we’ll see where Geoff works best in the photo. I don’t know exactly where he’ll look best next to the bench.”
                  The man turned around and hefted up the moose head. “Of course,” he muttered. “The dilemma we all have every morning of where to put the moose head.”
                  But he obediently headed over to the wall I had pointed out, muttering some more under his breath.
                  I felt an undeniable grin tugging at my lips.
                  Today was turning out to be an interesting day.
     
    ***
     
                  “So how long have you been making furniture?” Jonah asked. His large hand nearly swallowed the coffee cup he held.
                  I made eye contact with Jeanie, the waitress on duty today at Bull’s Diner, and she immediately grabbed the pot of the good hot stuff and came over, refilling both of our cups.
                  “Another early day, Clara?” Jeanie asked with a knowing grin.
                  I grinned back, lifting my cup for the caffeine ambrosia. “Gotta get my photos in before Alex opens the store,” I replied. “You know how whiny he gets when I’m still back there snapping away with customers around.”
                  Jeanie gave a jingling laugh at the accurate description of Alex. She shook her head smiling as she walked away.
                  “Since I was about twelve,” I answered Jonah after taking a fortifying gulp. Since it was so early, the diner was just Jonah, Jeanie, and me. Oh and of course, Ralph, the cook in the back.
                  Jeanie returned to the counter where she pulled out her notebook from under the register. It was the notebook where she kept track of her Mary Kay sales. On top of being a world class waitress, she was also a beauty consultant for Mary Kay. I had made the mistake of letting her do a make over on me once.
                  Although wonderfully bubbly and kind, her aesthetics for make up and mine differed wildly. For almost a week, I had permanent raccoon eyes from inability to remove the black tar she had called mascara.
                  “That’s quite the hobby to take up at twelve,” Jonah replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He pulled back suddenly, a little surprised.
                  I raised a questioning brow.
                  “That’s actually good,” he said in surprise, holding the coffee cup in front of him like an alien artifact.
                  I snorted and giggled. “Right?” I said, taking another delicious sip. “Bull’s has been open for about two decades now and I’m pretty sure those pots are the same pots that they had on opening day. I think all the ghost pots of coffee brewed are still lingering in the glass. It makes each successive pot more delicious.” I closed my eyes and inhaled the coffee aroma. When I opened my eyes, I saw Jonah staring at me with an indescribable look that was partly amusement and partly curiosity.
                  “What made you get into woodworking?” Jonah asked, resuming the conversation.
                  I tilted my head a little. “It was my dad’s thing. He was always making stuff and when I got old enough to be trusted with