Count On Me: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  Scott left the lawyer’s office, his shoulders rounded in a slump and his head aching. Deciding to stop into Jillian’s Coffee Shop and Galleria to get a cup of coffee, he stepped into the now-familiar old shop. Jillian’s parents had restored the rundown storefront to its original glory. The black-and-white-tiled floor and highly-polished cherry paneling with brass sconces on the wall gave off a warm and welcoming vibe. The morning crowd had left, and he made his way toward the barista. Shelves on the back wall caught his attention, and he bypassed the coffee, walking over to see what Jillian had for sale. Sea glass jewelry, handmade coasters, and bottles labeled ‘essential oil’ filled some of the shelves.

  An idea hit him, remembering Beau once telling him that Lizzie made goat milk lotion and soaps. At the time, he’d had no idea what those were… truth be told, he still had no clue. But they seemed like something that Jillian would be able to sell.

  “Hey, Scott,” a female voice sounded from behind, and he turned around to observe Jillian approaching. A beauty with long, dark blonde hair, she was dressed in her typical bright colors. Glancing down, he spied her baby bump and grinned, knowing her husband was crowing proudly to anyone who would listen about their baby-to-be. “I saw you come in and thought you might want some coffee, but it looks like you’ve got gift shopping on your mind.”

  Rubbing his chin, he smiled in greeting and asked, “Do you think you could sell goat milk lotion and soap?”

  Jillian stopped and blinked in surprise, her gaze darting from his face over to the shelves he had been perusing. “Uh… are you looking for some?”

  His face reddened with blush, and he chuckled. “Sorry, it’s not for me. Actually, I’m not even sure what it is.”

  Jillian’s brow furrowed even more. “But you think I should sell it?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “I’m sorry, Jillian. I’m afraid my mind is muddled, and I’m not making any sense.”

  Her face relaxed into a smile and she said, “Come on over, have a cup of coffee, and maybe I can help un-muddle your mind.”

  He followed her to one of the small tables and soon had a cup of freshly-brewed coffee in his hands. Sipping appreciatively, he carefully considered how much he wanted to tell her. It was important to maintain confidentiality and professionalism with Lizzie’s information but he needed to gain more information before talking to her again.

  “I know someone who makes homemade goat milk lotion and soap. I know they sell them at the farmers’ market, and I know that they want to expand their sales base. I’m not at liberty to say more right now, but I’m just trying to get an idea if there is a market for local businesses to sell the products.”

  Jillian was already nodding enthusiastically before he finished and said, “Absolutely. My customers love buying local products, and with as many visitors and tourists as we get in this town, they would snap those items up!”

  With that validation, he smiled, relaxing deeper in his chair as he sipped his coffee. Lost in thought, he looked up when Jillian cleared her throat and saw her staring at him, her head tilted to the side.

  “Do you want to tell me who makes the goat milk products? Will they bring some samples in for me?” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Or you can just have them email me or give me a call.”

  Pondering what to say, he finally admitted, “Here’s the problem, Jillian. I need the suggestion to come from someone other than me.” Seeing her startle, he threw up his hand and continued, “Don’t ask, because there’s certain things I can’t tell you in order not to violate confidentiality. But let’s just say that I know that Lizzie Weston sells these products at farmers’ markets, and I think it would be good for her to have some other avenues.”

  Eyes wide, Jillian nodded. “I was going to see her soon anyway. A couple of us thought that we would visit, see how she’s doing, and invite her to the AL Auxiliary. It would be very easy to find out what she produces and let her know that she can put them here to sell.”

  Relaxing once more, he nodded. “If you could do that, it would be wonderful. I’d really appreciate it.”

  Shrugging, she met his smile with one of her own. Tossing her long braid over her shoulder, she stood and smoothed her hands over her growing baby bump. “Hey, don’t thank me. I love getting my hands on local products that I can sell here. It’s a win-win for everybody.” With a pat on his shoulder as she moved away, she headed behind the counter.

  Breathing easier, he finished his coffee and headed to his office. Once settled at his desk, he thought over the comments Lizzie made in the lawyer’s office. “For all I know, you’re going to tell me to bow to the pressure of the Giordanos and sell the farm, just to make money off the land and then I’ll end up with nothing.” Her distraught face filled his mind.

  Determined, he fired up his computer, deciding to find out everything he could about Luca. If she was getting pressure to sell, he owed it to her and Beau to do everything he could to look out for her interests.

  Thirty minutes later, he picked up his phone and called Harrison Private Investigations. “Gareth? It’s Scott.”

  Gareth, like himself, was not an original Baytown Boy but had moved to Baytown to live after leaving the military service. Now married to Katelyn McFarlane, he ran a private investigation company with his wife.

  “I need you to do some digging for me. I’ve tried, and I’m coming up blank.” Giving Gareth a quick rundown on what he needed, he disconnected the call and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hand over his face. The image of Lizzie’s face as she left Preston’s office haunted him. He had fought the urge to pull her into his arms, offering his comfort and strength. I might not know farming, and while this started because of my promise to Beau… now it’s Lizzie that’s captured my attention.

  8

  Walking out of the barn, Lizzie wondered how long she would be able to accomplish everything on the farm without hiring help. She remembered Carrie’s offer of her preteen son but feared she would spend more time supervising him than him helping her. Maybe I could invite Carrie and Jack over for a friendly visit, and that would give me an idea of how he is around animals. Standing on the dirt path, she sighed heavily. I’m going to need more than just a part-time young boy for help. With no new ideas forthcoming, she walked back to the house for lunch.

  After a ham and cheese sandwich eaten at the kitchen counter, eschewing dining alone at the table, she decided to spend the afternoon making goat milk lotion. Whenever she took her products to the local farmers’ market, she always sold out. She loved experimenting with new fragrant oils, something she used to do in the evenings while Beau watched the news or read the newspaper before going out and checking the farm one last time before bed.

  Hearing the crunch of gravel outside, she winced at the idea of more visitors. She knew she had been rude to Scott, but it was easier to take her frustrations out on him than the church women bringing food. Stalking to the door, she was surprised to see three women walking toward her.

  She recognized two of them, having attended Baytown High School about the same time that they had. Jillian Evans had been the blonde homecoming queen, beautiful and reported to be very sweet. Lizzie had never been in Jillian’s high school orbit though, and with little time and little extra money as an adult, she had also never been in Jillian’s Coffee Shop. She was married to Grant Wilder, the former homecoming king who was now a Baytown police officer. And she was very pregnant.

  Looking from Jillian to the woman standing next to her, she recognized Belle Gunn. That member of the trio surprised her, remembering that Belle had grown up in the poor section of the town’s trailer park. She had a hard time imagining they were now friends, but it had been many years since high school. Belle was also married now, but Lizzie did not know her husband.

  The third woman had vibrant red hair, and Lizzie had seen her in town. Stunned to see them walking toward her, she blinked as though the apparition would disappear.

&n
bsp; As soon they reached her, their faces filled with generous smiles, Jillian said, “Lizzie, I’m Jillian. This is Belle and Tori. Our husbands knew your grandfather from the American Legion, and we just wanted to stop by to offer our condolences.”

  Swallowing deeply, she dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “We also wanted to see if there was anything we could help with. I know that many people say those words when someone has passed away, but we truly would like to offer or arrange any assistance,” Tori said.

  Uncertain what they could possibly do to help, she shook her head. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but… um… this is a… a working farm. I’m afraid that right now, the animals are used to me, and I have my routine. I think it’s best if I stick to that.”

  Assuming the women would turn and leave, Belle surprised her when she said, “One of the nurses at the nursing home where I work brought in some Weston Farm goat milk lotion. I didn’t make the connection until right now. It was wonderful! I had her go back to the farmers’ market to buy some more because it was so soothing for some of our patients.”

  The praise lessened the weight on her chest just a little, and while her smile was tight, she acknowledged the comments. “Thank you. Yes, I make it here in my kitchen.” Shrugging, she surprised herself when she blurted, “I was getting ready to make some right now.”

  “Oh, can we watch?” Jillian asked, her eyes bright with interest.

  “Or better yet, can we help? I’d love to buy some to take back to the Sea Glass Inn. My guests would love this!” Tori exuded.

  Company was not what Lizzie expected, but she could not think of an excuse against the exuberance from the three women. “I… uh… I guess so.” Turning to walk back through her kitchen door, she rounded the counter where she had her supplies already laid out and said, “There’s really nothing for you to do.”

  “Watching would be wonderful,” Belle said, her soft voice filled with enthusiasm. “I’m always so impressed with people who have creative abilities.”

  She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came out. Flummoxed, she began mixing the ingredients, finding herself explaining what she was doing as she began the task.

  “Um, here I have pasteurized goat milk in this bowl, and I add an equal amount of distilled water, stirring until it’s mixed well. Over here, I take the stearic acid and add it to the avocado oil and sweet almond oil that I mixed together just before you came. Next, we add the emulsifying wax.”

  “This is absolutely fascinating,” Tori said, leaning over the counter and sniffing appreciatively. Her eyes met Lizzie’s and she smiled. “Thank you so much for letting us watch.”

  Nodding ever-so-slightly, Lizzie took the large bowl and placed it in her microwave. “I have to heat this for about two minutes so the wax and acid melt in the oils.” She pressed the buttons on her microwave, continuing to stare dumbly at the bowl turning around and around, not wanting to look at the women waiting patiently for the next step.

  When the microwave dinged, she took the bowl out and set it back on the counter. She lifted up another bowl and began dumping the thick contents into the bowl of warmed oil. “This is Shea butter. I just stir it in, and it will slowly melt.” After a couple of minutes, it had melted, and all of the ingredients were well-mixed. She began to relax, her visitors appearing to enjoy her impromptu lessons. Moving back to the bowl of goat milk and distilled water, she said, “We’ll microwave this for about a minute to get it warm.”

  Once that was accomplished, she poured the oil mixture into the milk mixture, stirring as she went. “You can see that it’s beginning to thicken, but we’ll help that along and make it smooth by putting it in the blender.”

  Pouring half of the bowl’s contents into the appliance, she pulsed the blender several times and then checked the ingredients. Pulsing a few more times, she then poured it into another large bowl. She finished with her complete, thickened mixture.

  “It seems kind of runny,” Jillian said, scrunching her nose as she leaned over the bowl and peering down.

  “You don’t want it to be too thick at this stage or you won’t be able to pour it into the bottles.”

  “Is it ready?” Belle asked, eyes bright.

  “Not yet. We have to add in the preservative.” Once she stirred it thoroughly, she began to add in the fragrant oils.

  “Ooohh, that smells wonderful,” Tori gushed, leaning over and inhaling deeply. “How did you ever learn to do this?”

  “YouTube,” Lizzie replied. When the others looked at her in surprise, she could not help but smile. “Honestly... you can learn to do anything from YouTube.”

  Bringing over her clean, clear bottles, she stuck a funnel into the top of one and began pouring the lotion, filling the bottle to almost the top. Placing in the pump lid, she screwed it on tightly. She continued until she had ten bottles filled. Opening a folder she had on the side of the counter, she pulled out labels that she had made. They were simple round labels with the words Weston Farm Goat Milk. She carefully centered them on the bottles and pressed them to stick. Pulling out another sheet of labels that listed the ingredients, she pressed it to the back.

  Looking up at the women that were staring at her, she suddenly felt foolish. Shrugging, she mumbled in defense, “It’s not much, but I like making it.”

  “I think it’s brilliant!” Belle enthused. “My only hobby is knitting, but I love this! If you ever want some help, please let me know. I’d love to come over and assist.”

  Jillian tilted her head to the side, tapping her forefinger on her chin as though in thought. “Lizzie, would you consider letting me sell some of your goat milk products from my coffee shop?”

  “From your coffee shop?” It was hard to keep the incredulity from her voice, not understanding what a coffee shop would do with lotion.

  Laughing, Jillian said, “Oh, I should explain. It’s really a coffee shop and galleria. I have all kinds of things that I sell there that are locally made. Everything from sea glass jewelry and paintings to woodcarvings. I get a lot of vacationers and out-of-town visitors and they love everything that’s local. I have no doubt this would sell like crazy!”

  Before she had a chance to reply, Tori added, “I’d like to buy some from you now so that I can offer it to the guests that stay at my inn.”

  Shrugging, Belle said, “Around the holidays, we like to bring in local artisans to let our nursing home patients purchase items that they can give to their family for Christmas gifts. Most cannot get out to stores and it makes them feel less helpless.”

  The women all stared at her, but Lizzie’s mind locked up. Papa Beau had often told her that she should produce more of her products, but she had always replied that there was never enough time. Just the memory made the tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked furiously trying to keep them at bay.

  Embarrassed, she did not have a chance to speak before Belle wrapped her arm around her and led her over to the kitchen table, ushering her to a seat. Stunned, she watched as Tori put on a kettle of water and Jillian searched until she found the teabags. While they made cups of tea, Belle sat on the other side of her, setting a box of tissues nearby.

  She dried her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the agonizing pain to lessen. Gaining control of herself, she looked up as Tori and Jillian set mugs of tea on the table. Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly before asking, “I don’t understand why you’re here. We weren’t friends before. You never even knew me way back in high school, and I’ve never been to your shop in town.”

  She knew the words sounded rude as soon as they left her mouth, but confusion had mixed with grief and she was too tired to try to guess anyone’s motives. Waiting for them to stand up and flounce out of her kitchen in disgust, they remained still. Slowly lifting her gaze, she noted each of them staring at her with expressions of what could only be described as kindness.

  Speaking first, Jillian said, “It�
�s been many years since high school, Lizzie. I would hope that you would never hold anything against me from that long ago.”

  Now embarrassed, she shook her head and said, “No. I’m sorry to have even implied that. I was several years behind you in high school.” Shrugging, she said, “I always had to work on the farm, so I did very little in high school other than attend. I didn’t really have time for friends or activities. And since then, there was always so much to do here.”

  They were quiet, and she swallowed deeply before adding, “Farming is what I love, but it’s... hard. The farm used to be much larger, but my grandfather was forced to sell off many acres because he wasn’t able to produce and sell crops at prices competitive with some of the major farms in the area. We worked from sunup to sundown every day. No days off. No vacations. And it’s as though it’s all slipping away.”

  Taking a sip of tea, the ease of unburdening herself, even just a little, made her feel calmer instead of more embarrassed. “But enough about that. I don’t know how much I can produce, but I would be very interested in selling more of my products. Besides the lotion, I make goat milk soap.” Looking at Jillian and Tori, she said, “I should be able to make enough that I can provide it to you. That would keep me from having to spend time working a booth at the farmers’ market.”

  The women seemed genuinely excited, and they all stood, taking their empty mugs to the sink. Getting ready to leave, they offered her hugs, which she accepted awkwardly. Trying to think of something socially acceptable to say, she glanced down at the baby bump pressing between her and Jillian and asked, “When are you due?”

  Jillian’s face brightened as she smiled widely and said, “This fall.” Laughing, she added, “There’s a bunch of us that are expecting right now.”

  Not understanding who she was referring to, she remained quiet. Belle must have noticed her confusion.

  “There’s a group of women our age who belong to the American Legion Auxiliary, and quite a few are pregnant now,” Belle explained. “The Auxiliary is for family members of current or former military. There are people of all ages that attend the meetings and support the activities. My grandfather was in the military, like yours, and so you would be eligible to join. There’s no membership fees or dues or even obligations.” Reaching out and placing her hand on Lizzie’s arm, she gave a light squeeze. “I know you don’t have a lot of free time, but I hope you’ll consider coming to the next meeting. I’d be glad to come pick you up so you wouldn’t feel like you’re walking into the room all by yourself.”