Charlie put the finishing touches on the March audit, then leaned back in his office chair, gazing out the window. Two years after begging the division VP for more work and no additional pay for the perk of working from home, he was living a dream. Instead of a dreary beige cubical, his office was the second story loft in a log cabin nestled in the backwoods of Epsom, New Hampshire. It was early April, and the leaden sky was spitting snow after two days of straight rain. The trees were still, leafless, moss-covered sentinels with trunks a shade of gray darker than the cloud cover.

As controller for Benton Plastic’s east coast facilities, the first eight days of the month were piled high with heavy workloads and tight deadlines. He felt only a small fraction of the stress as his woodland view was instant valium. Prior to the pandemic, Charlie worked in the Chattanooga facility with a view of the chemical tanks and loading docks instead of a verdant forest and wondering chickens.

Carlos Rodrigo Guillermo Diaz found life more tranquil in the cabin, thousands of miles away from his family and Dalton, land of Baptists, moonshine and football.

The mere thought of his family had Charlie rubbing his neck.

The youngest of five, Charlie’s parents were immigrants looking for a better life for their budding family. Not long after settling in the small town, the Diaz family shed their native names and enforced new Anglo characteristics to ensure proper assimilation. The loss of his native culture was a pinprick in his heart. At least he still had his grandmother’s recipes and the knowledge he gained cooking side by side with her on those yearly visits.

With a wheeze and a cough, Charlie stood and stretched out his stiff muscles, then chuckled at the Australorp hen who chased the Barred Rock rooster away from his pecking spot. Poor rooster. His clumsy mating practices made him persona non grata in the entire brood. Watching the chickens dodge each other and the fat snowflakes sent a wave of warmth along Charlie’s frazzled nerve endings. He felt the stress of month-end reporting slowly drain from his body like a lazy river.

A rusty “ding-dong” came from the barely used doorbell.

What the hell?

The foreign noise set his heart to racing. Near the end of a dirt road, most of the homes in the neighborhood were seasonal residences or people like him, recluses who believed doorbells were for decoration only. Pressing his chest to prevent his heart from leaping out, Charlie made his way down the stairs and to the front door.

The peephole revealed an indecently beautiful man, broad shouldered with black hair peppered with snowflakes. Dark impatient eyes, extra thick brows and aquiline nose gave him a very regal and imposing air, kind of like Chen Zhen from Fist of Fury……he loved that movie.

With that thought, Charlie opened the door with an abundance of caution and a small amount of hero-worship.

“Oh, good. Someone is home.” The stranger’s voice was warm and mellow, like a cup of tea with a profusion of cream. “The stupid car is stuck at the bottom of my driveway, and I can’t get mobile service to call for a tow truck. I saw the smoke from your chimney and lights on and figured someone was home.” A not quite sincere but stunningly brilliant smile flashed. “May I please use a little of your internet service to contact a tow company to haul me out of that mess?”

Charlie looked over his shoulder and through the trees. A stunning red Porsche was sitting lopsided in the next-door neighbor’s goopy driveway.

Nope. Not Chen Zhen or Bruce Lee. Chen Zhen didn’t drive a Porsche. Other than movers, Charlie never let anyone into his house…..ever. But the air was chilled, and the poor man appeared to be overly damp. Reluctantly, he widened the opening and motioned the stranger in.

The unfamiliar person brought in with him the smell of a New England forest, all damp pine and spice.

“You are a lifesaver.” The man took off his shoes at the front door and stacked them neatly as if it were second nature.

This startled Charlie, who’d never seen such a thing. Growing up with five children in a house a little larger than his tiny cabin was a hot mess. It wasn’t uncommon to find shoes scattered from front to back and all manner of dirt and debris littered the floor right along with the shoes.

“I’m Ki Roberts. K-I instead of K-E-Y.” One could tell he’d explained such a thing often. “I’m moving in next door.” He stuck a damp hand out, paused, wiped it on the smooth wool coat, then poked out the large hand again.

Hesitation and confusion darkened Charlie’s brows before he slowly shook the offered hand.

“My father was Winston Roberts, your former neighbor. He recently passed and the ridiculous driveway is mine.” His voice showed a modicum of emotion before dropping the other man’s hand.

Social niceties stumped Charlie. The bitterness pill force fed from his family had taught him he was unqualified to function properly in humanity. Yet, Charlie was a bit saddened to lose such a consistently absent neighbor. Good neighbors such as that were hard to come by.

Charlie’s features showed concern and regret, but his tongue was tied in knots, keeping him silent.

Touched by the emotions exhibited across the fascinating features of the other man, Ki was enchanted. Genuine emotion was a scarce commodity in his world. He ducked his head, opening his phone, hiding his own thoughts.

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“Aiya, it looks like I need a password.” He handed the phone to the silent man.

With deft fingers, Charlie entered the secondary password, one he could quickly change if things went awry. Without a word, he returned the expensive phone.

“Thanks.” With a brush of his fingers, he took the phone and searched for tow trucks. “I’ll be a minute.”

Tightening his tingling fingers, Charlie made his way to the tidy kitchen where habit had him fill the kettle. It was time for a late afternoon snack. Part of him longed to make tea and cookies for two. Something so simple as sitting at a table with another human being was a double-edge sword for someone like Charlie, both tempting and painful.

The hermit part of him longed to push the other man out the moment he completed his call. Small talk was a skill Charlie never mastered, and surely the man’s car could provide protection from today’s nasty weather. A glance at his digital temperature display told him the early spring temperature was dropping. It would freeze solid tonight.

Hearing his grandmother’s admonishment to care for those in need echoed in his head, Charlie pulled out a second mug. Soon, hot tea and small cookies were placed before two chairs at the kitchen table. Moments later, Ki made his way around the smallish cottage to where he heard the clang of dishes.

“Oh, tea.” Pleasure crossed Ki’s dark handsome features. “I am freezing.” He sat down and took a sip, then closed his eyes. Pure pleasure washed from his broad forehead down to his tippy toes. Lazily opening his eyes, he looked at the other man. “I’m sorry, but I forgot to ask your name.”

Ki scanned the small serviceable kitchen area. The warm yellow walls had open shelves filled with cast iron and pottery, all serviceable and sturdy. A sink was piled high with dirty dishes, which tickled his fancy.

Was his new neighbor a slob?

Why was that a little…..cute?

Pausing, Charlie took a small sip of his tea. “Ch-ch-cha-Charlie.” The sound was rough and raspy, like sandpaper rubbing against river rock. He subconsciously cleared his throat.

“Sounds like you’re getting a cold, Charlie.” He smiled.

Charlie veiled his eyes and was non-committal. “Hmmmmm.” He bit into a cookie and racked his brain for any reason to flee to the office upstairs.

“The tow truck will be here in about an hour.” Ki bit into a cookie and scrutinized the man across from him.

Poor Charlie. He should never play poker. A dose of fear and no small amount of confusion was crystal clear on his face….a neon sign. With years of experience as a criminal lawyer and decades of living with parents that were polar-opposites, Ki read people like a newspaper. His spidey-sense told him that Charlie was less than open and very uncomfortable with Ki’s presence.

The professional Ki assessed and dissected: introvert, probably diagnosed agoraphobic and judging by the symmetrical furniture placement and highly polished everything except the dishes, was an attractive mix of OCD meets adolescence.

Ki’s analytical skills and a bit of humor contributed to his success as an attorney. Tapping into those skills, Ki began to entertain. Without a doubt, if he didn’t distract his poor neighbor, he’d find himself waiting for the tow truck in a cold car mired in mud. Certainly, he’d faced harder challenges.

Gazing into dark eyes, not unlike his own, Ki began.

“Dad used the house next door as a kind of hunting lodge. I rarely visited and if I did, the driveway wasn’t the mess it is now. I suppose he only came up here once or twice a year after I graduated high school and never noticed what a quagmire it was, literally.” His face animated and open. “That old mud pit driveway is completely impassible this time of year.”

Charlie blinked unaccustomed to a guest, let alone a conversational one.

“My parents settled in Boston after they met. My father was working as an attorney for a human rights organization that took him to Asia. There he met my mother, who wanted to be rescued.” Ki grimaced. “My father always pictured himself another Batman or Professor Xavier out to save the downtrodden, oppressed. Well, he saved my mother, alright, but it was more difficult than he anticipated, merging two distinct cultures.”

Wonder bloomed in Charlie’s eyes. Asia was home to all those awesome Kung Fu movies…….so cool.

Ki saw victory. Maybe the other man was a sucker for a good story.

So cute.

For the next half hour, Ki shared the story of his mother’s people and hardships they faced, to the point of extermination. He shared the tale of his parents’ marriage, a grab-bag of ups and downs until Ki was a teen with a mind of his own. His father wanted him to explore and discover the wonders of the world. Ki’s mother wanted him to carefully study and be a shiny beacon of religion, hers, of course.

Once the genie of self-determination is out of the bottle, there’s no putting it back. Ki loved his mother’s culture and religion but knew a fundamental part of himself was in direct conflict with both. Ki’s father arranged for him to attend a prep-school not too far from the tiny hamlet of Epsom, where he found a comfortable vacation home. Not long after, he quietly divorced his wife and set her up comfortably in the community of her choice.

Utter fascination sprinkled with croaks of “Mmmmmm” seeped out of Charlie like a baby kingfisher being beak-fed dinner.

“Not much money in human rights anything. With an ex-wife and teenage son to support, my father left his passion and became a partner in a friend’s law firm specializing in criminal law. I suppose he figured many of his potential clients were misunderstood and needed saving. Too bad for him, it was during the federal crackdown on the crime syndicates, really society’s dregs. More than a decade was spent working with gangsters and white-collar criminals.”

Frowning, Ki took a gulp of the Assam. Through half-closed eyes, he observed the other, such a handsome face and bright eyes full of curiosity. His lips made an upward slope on his wheat colored face, a half-smile trembled on soft lips…..so cute.

He hesitated just a moment to see if the silence would force the adorable creature across from him to speak. One, two, three……Ki counted to thirty and not even a twitch from Charlie. Worse, he was probably contemplating how to evict Ki from his house.

In the game of social chicken, Ki lost and continued storytelling. “It wasn’t difficult for me to see that my father was not happy in criminal law. Even after he became a partner, more money never assuaged his need to help on a global scale. Fifteen years of investments was enough to set my mother up to be self-sufficient, help me through law school, and enough left for him to retire on.”

With a piercing gaze, Ki continued, “Pops was the one who encouraged me to be true to myself. What an incredible father. He didn’t even blink when I came out as a teen. My mother…..not so understanding and thinks it’s a fad, like baggy jeans or the Macarena.” He paused.

The reaction was so slight. If he wasn’t paying attention, he would have missed surprise and delight before the tea mug blocked it. Ki found the response a bit of a thrill.

“Mmmmmmm.”

Carting his empty mug over to the sink, Ki began loading the dishwasher and chatted on and on about his mother’s culture while rinsing and stacking. Yep. No doubt about it. Charlie was just……. enchanting.