by Elicia Hyder
Miss Taylor wore a diamond-studded collar, also presumably real.
“Grace, what on earth happened to your front window?”
“Kiara is decorating it for the holidays.”
“In brown paper?”
“No. That’s temporary. She wants it to be a surprise.”
“It looks ridiculous.”
I sighed. “How can I help you, Sylvie?”
“I was just coming by to check on my dress.” She shoved the pooch into my arms as she hobbled past me toward the checkout counter.
I held Miss Taylor at arm’s length like she might be rabid. I loved dogs, but she had bitten me twice before.
Sylvia looked behind the desk. “Is it in the back?”
“It is, but it’s not ready to be seen yet. It’s going to take a while. You know it’s a process.” I was turning in circles, looking for some place to put the dog down.
“I know. I’m just excited. Have you got anything new?”
I blinked. “Since Saturday?”
She pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll take that as a no.” Her heels clacked across the floor toward the dress-up corner, a spot I’d created for kids to play while their parents shopped. “This could do with some tidying up, Grace.”
I laughed awkwardly and carried Miss Taylor to the corner. “We had a few kids in this morning. They love to make a mess.”
Using her cane, she picked up a plastic tiara and lifted it for closer inspection.
“It’s from Target,” I said as if I needed to clarify.
“Hmph.” She hobbled over to a table covered with accessories for little girls. “How’s your roller derby thing going? When do you start playing in something I can come watch?”
I was surprised she remembered. Or that she’d want to come see me play. “It’s going well. I made the team not long ago, and the season starts in the spring.”
“The spring,” she repeated as she reached into a glass jar full of beaded elastic bracelets Kiara had made. Pulling one out, she stretched it between her index finger and her thumb.
The front door bells jingled again. This time it was Jason, dressed in jeans and a sweater. “Hey, Grace, there’s a purple town car out here parked in front of the fire hydrant. Do you know—”
“That’s mine,” Sylvia said. Just then, the elastic band shot off her finger toward Jason’s head. He conjured up his old baseball skills and caught it with his free hand. The other was holding his black uniform.
Sylvia gave a raspy laugh and clapped her hands. “You’re a regular Mickey Mantle, aren’t ya? Nice catch, handsome.”
Jason looked too confused to thank her for the compliment. He lifted the front of his T-shirt to display the badge pinned to his belt next to his holster. “Ma’am, I’m going to need to ask you to move your car. It’s a safety hazard.”
“All right, all right. I was only popping in for a minute.” She hobbled over to me and took the dog from my hands. “Come on, Miss Taylor. Officer Killjoy says we’ve gotta go.”
Jason shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s OK, son. No need to apologize for harassing the elderly.”
“Ma’am, I wasn’t—”
“I said no need to apologize.”
He looked at me with wide eyes as she passed by him. Then she stopped, hooked her cane over her forearm that was cradling Miss Taylor, and squeezed his bicep. “Oh, how nice.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “Wow. Um, thank you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Her head snapped back at the mention of her name. She pushed her glasses up as she studied his face. “Have we met?”
“Yes, ma’am. I helped you carry in some stuff here just the other day.”
“That’s right. Well, you call me Sylvie.” She looked over at me. “This one’s a keeper, Grace.”
My cheeks flushed with heat.
She waved to me. “I’ll come by later this week to check on my dress. Have a good day, you kids!”
When the door closed behind her, I pointed in her direction as I walked to greet him. “Can you come by every day and do what you just did? She’s never been in and out of here so fast.”
“Get myself felt up by your geriatric clientele? Sure.” He laughed and handed me the bracelet Sylvia had fired across the room. “Are we still on for lunch?”
“Yeah. Let me grab my coat. What’s with the uniform?”
“I was hoping I could change here after we eat.”
“Afraid of spilling something on your shirt?”
“Afraid of someone spitting in my food. I try to never eat in public wearing my uniform.”
“Eww.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“Would you like me to hang it up in the back?”
He walked over and handed it to me. “That’d be great.” When I took hold of the hanger, he didn’t let go. “It’s good to see you again, Grace.”
My heart thumped in my chest. “You too.”
With a smile, he released the hanger and I turned to carry it to the back. That was when I saw Kiara’s head poking around the corner. “You’re such a creeper,” I whispered as I walked past her.
“Officer Eye Candy again, huh? You go, Grace.”
“He’s taking me out for pancakes.”
“Pancakes? Pshh… If I were you, I’d be taking him upstairs.”
“Kiara!”
“What? That man is too hot for pancakes.” She peeked back out to the storeroom. “Although, I’ll bet you could melt butter on that six-pack. Slather him up in some maple syrup and—”
“Kiara! Oh my god, you’re insane.” I reached for my jacket hanging on the rack. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Can you mind the store while you make your mess back here?”
“This is art, honey. And you just wait. You’re going to thank me.”
I slipped my arms into my jacket. “I certainly hope so.”
She followed me to the front. Jason was looking at a rack of hand-tied hair bows when we entered the room. He glanced over and smiled at Kiara. “Hello again.”
“I think a blue one would go best with your eyes,” she said, pointing.
He lifted a blue bow off the rack and held it to the side of his head. “Yeah?”
She laughed. “Oh yeah.”
I walked over to him. “I’m ready if you are.”
He put the bow back and waved to Kiara. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too,” she replied.
“Want us to bring you back some lunch?” I asked as we walked to the door.
“Nah. I’ll go out and grab something when you get back. Have fun.”
“She’s nice,” Jason said when we were outside. “How much does she work for you?”
“She’s actually an intern-slash-employee. A design student at MacKay. She was so good working for me for free that I hired her to come in on the weekends while I go to derby. Now, she’s usually here Thursday through Saturday.”
“Does she make dresses too?”
We walked next door to the Pancake Pantry. “Probably better than me.”
He held the restaurant door open. “I doubt that. The two of you make all that stuff in the store yourselves?”
“Well, I have two other seamstresses who work part-time, Margaret and Carla. And some of the stuff in the store, like the blue jeans and the shoes, are wholesale items I buy and resell.”
The girl at the hostess stand smiled when we walked in. “Hi, Grace!”
“Hello, Maggie.”
Jason turned toward me with a cocked eyebrow and a teasing grin.
“Yes, I’m on a first-name basis with most of the staff here. And the girl at the ice cream shop. And the bartender at the tavern. You know I just went through a nasty divorce, right?”
He chuckled.
“Two today?” Maggie asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Would you like your usual table?”
Jason laughed again.
“Don’t judge me. That’ll be great, Maggie.”
She plucked two menus from the rack. “Right this way.”
He touched the small of my back, urging me to go ahead of him, and a tingle rippled down my spine. “I’m totally judging you,” he said quietly.
I laughed as we followed her through the maze of tables. “I can’t believe there’s not a line today,” I said to Maggie when we reached my favorite four-top near the window.
“Today’s your lucky day. You’ve hit the sweet spot between the breakfast crowd and the lunch rush.” She put the menus down on the table. “Your server, Alex, will be here in just a moment.”
“Thanks, Maggie,” I said.
Jason thanked her as well and then pulled out my chair for me. “Wow. Such a gentleman. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Rather than sitting across the square table, he sat beside me. He must have noticed my surprise because he gripped the side of the tabletop. “Is it OK if I sit here? I like to be able to see the doors.”
I blinked. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” I picked up my menu and would have ducked my disappointed face behind it if it would’ve blocked his view. I’d thought he just wanted to sit beside me.
“You eat here a lot, then?” he asked.
“All the time, and I’m not even ashamed of it.”
He grinned. “Can’t blame you. I’d be here every day myself. What’s your favorite?”
“My very favorite is the Georgia peach crepes, but lately, I’ve been ordering the whole-wheat pancakes. They’re amazing, and I can more easily justify cleaning my plate.”
“Makes total sense.” His eyes were scanning the menu. “So many choices.”
With his attention diverted, it was easy to study him from my seat. Unlike me, it didn’t seem he’d aged much since college. His hair was lighter than I remembered, without the slightest hint of gray. And where I was well on my way to a perfect pair of crow’s feet, he only had faint crinkles at the corners of his deep-set eyes. They were the color of winter ale. My gaze drifted down his strong, clean-shaven jawline, the kind perfect for trailing fingers—
“Hello, folks.”
I jumped, realizing the waiter had appeared like Houdini at our table. “My name is Alex, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Would you like some coffee?” He held up a stainless pot.
“Please,” Jason and I said together.
Alex poured our cups full. “There’s cream and sugar on the table. Do you know what you’d like to order?”
Jason looked at me. “Grace?”
I hesitated for only half a second. “I’ll have the Georgia peach crepes and a side of grits, please.”
“Good choice. And for you, sir?” Alex asked.
“I’ll take the pecan pancakes and a side of bacon.”
“You got it. If y’all need anything else, let me know.”
“Thanks, Alex,” Jason said, handing him our menus.
Jason ripped open a packet of sugar and poured it into his coffee. “Sylvia’s interesting. Is she a friend of yours?”
Interesting question. “I’m not sure. She usually talks at me, like I’m stupid, but she keeps coming back, so who knows? She’s a good customer though.”
“I can tell from the car alone. She has the town car and a Bentley?” He let out a deep whistle.
“She has others too. I’ve seen at least two other fancy cars.”
“I’m kind of surprised she drives herself,” he said.
“She doesn’t always. I’ve seen a man and a woman bring her to the store before.”
“Do they park in designated parking areas?” he asked.
“How do you think I knew someone drove her?”
He laughed through a yawn and covered his mouth.
“Tired?” I asked.
“Always. I’m not meant for the night shift.”
“Do you always work nights?”
He nodded. “Monday through Friday.”
“That’s got to suck.”
“It’s only temporary. I accepted a promotion, but that came with this shift until the new year.”
“Well, congratulations then. What kind of promotion?”
“I made sergeant.”
“Nice.” I started doing the math in my head. “I guess you’ve been there for, what? Five, six years now?”
“Seven, actually.”
That didn’t seem possible, but I remembered he was starting the police academy the week after my wedding. So seven years would be right. “Wow. Do you like it? Being a cop.”
He stuffed his fists into the pockets of his jacket. “I do. It’s stressful always, but it’s never boring. Like today, in court, is definitely not going to be boring.”
“How come?”
“Halloween night, I got called to a bar down off Demonbruen. There was a drunk guy there threatening the bartender. He was dressed as a six-foot-tall penis.”
I clapped my hands over my mouth.
Jason closed his eyes. “It was horrifically well detailed. Veins, hairs, two giant balls down around his ankles.”
“Oh my god,” I said, laughing.
“It’s all on YouTube. Just search for ‘cop in Nashville wrestles giant penis.’ I’m pretty sure I might wind up on Jerry Springer.”
“Wrestles?”
“The guy literally bent over and charged me with his penis head. I had to tackle him to the ground to handcuff him. It was humiliating. And hysterical.”
We were laughing so hard that the ladies at the table next to us looked over.
“The costume was about seven feet tall, so you can imagine what it looked like when I put him in the back of my patrol car. I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it from the guys at work.”
“I’ll bet you won’t.”
“Today is that guy’s day in court. I really can’t wait to hear this one be explained to the judge.”
“I’m tempted to close the shop and come with you.”
He chuckled. “It is open to the public.”
“As much as I would love to be there, I’m swamped with work. This month starts the busiest shopping season of the year.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know. I usually end up working the Bellevue shopping district every Black Friday. Last year, I had to arrest three people on assault charges for fighting over discounted televisions.”
“People are crazy.”
“It’s a good thing you’re a tough roller girl now, I guess. You can serve as your own store’s bouncer if you have to,” he said with a smile.
Dear god, he has dimples. How had I never noticed that before?
“Grace?”
I blinked hard to try to reboot my brain. “Uh…well, nobody in my store ever fights over anything, but yes, I suppose if I had to, I could hip check someone to the curb.”
“I don’t think you’ve told me. How did you start playing?”
“My best friend, Monica, and I saw them skate in the Nashville Christmas Parade last year. They were handing out flyers for their next scrimmage that was open to the public a few weeks later, and we’ve been hooked ever since.”
“It’s kind of a jump from watching safely in the stands to actually playing, right?”
I smiled. “I guess. At their last bout of the season a few months ago, they announced they were recruiting new members for their ‘Fresh Meat’ group”—I used air quotes—“so Monica and I signed up. We officially made the team a couple of weeks ago.”
“Throw in the divorce and it sounds like life has been pretty eventful for you lately.”
“It has been. Doors closing, windows opening and all that. When you did security, did you get to watch the Rollers play at all?”
His eyes widened. “Oh yeah. It was pretty badass. I’ll admit, I didn’t understand a whole lot of what was going on, but it was a blast to watch.”
“Maybe sometime I can explain it to you.”
“I’d like that. When’s your next game?”
&nb
sp; I held up a finger. “First lesson of Derby 101 is they aren’t games, they’re bouts.”
He grinned over his coffee. “OK. When’s your next bout?”
“The season doesn’t start back until spring. My first bout is actually going to be an invitational tournament in March called the B-Cup.”
“The B-Cup? Like…” He put his coffee down and cupped two hands under his pecs.
“Exactly. Apparently, the winner gets a golden-bra trophy.”
He laughed. “I love it. Can’t wait to see that.”
“It’s in Indiana.”
“Oh.” He sat back and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll still make it.”
“What about you? What are you doing for fun these days?”
“I do a little cage fighting on the side…”
“Really?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “No. That’s a total lie. I’m a complete wuss.”
My mouth fell open.
“How am I supposed to follow up you playing roller derby? That I’m the third baseman for our intramural softball team at the station?” We were both laughing. “That I coach Little League?”
“You coach kids’ baseball?” I repeated, my giggles fading.
“Yeah. It’s a volunteer program through the police department. It’s nice to be part of a team again, even if I am four feet taller than all the other players.”
His eyes were sweetly sad.
“Do you ever regret not going all the way with baseball?”
He took a deep breath and sat back in his seat. “Who says I would’ve gone all the way?”
“Jason, you were so good. We all knew you were headed to the majors.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t have done anything differently.”
I believed that. Jason Bradley could never have been accused of being anything other than a great guy. But it was clear, he didn’t want to talk about the glory days or what might have been.
“Do you like Little League?”
“I love it. Kids are funny, man. The ones on my team are five and six. Half the time, they don’t know which way to run or who to throw the ball to. The first day of practice, this one boy took a leak in the outfield. It was hysterical.”
“Oh my god, that’s funny.”
“His mother didn’t think so. I thought that woman was going to lay an egg on the bleachers.”