by Amy Metz
“Shoot . . . I’m dazzled every time I see y’all. You get any more dazzlier, you’re liable to blind a fella.”
“Oh, you.” Tess smacked his arm playfully.
“Just my luck that you’re both married women. You don’t have any sisters, do you?”
“You need a date for the party?” Caledonia touched his forearm. “You know who you might like?”
“Aw, I was just funning you. You don’t have to fix me up.”
“No, seriously. You and Paprika would be perfect for each other.” She turned to Tess. “Wouldn’t they be perfect for each other?”
“You know, you just might be right. Maybe she’ll be at the party and we can introduce you two.”
A bell sounded, and Hank turned to see Trixie leaving the shoe shop across the street.
“Don’t let me keep you ladies. Y’all have a real nice day.”
“You too, Hank.” Caledonia waved.
“See you soon,” Tess called.
As he started toward Trixie, the confused expressions on the ladies’ faces registered with Hank, and he momentarily felt rude for abruptly ending their conversation.
“I need your help, Ms. Trixie.”
“My help? How on earth could I help you?” She put on sunglasses and brushed the hair from her face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“I didn–”
“You can accompany me to a little party a few friends are having Sunday night.” He saw the wariness on her face and rushed on. “It’s nothing fancy, just some people and some food and drink over at the bookstore. I’ve been ordered to have a pretty lady on my arm, and I think she should be you.”
“Who should be me?”
“The pretty lady.”
“But I don’t know her.”
He studied her to see if she was joking. She didn’t appear to be. “No, see . . . ” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “let me start over.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You said you’d be in town for a few days.”
She nodded.
“Would you please go with me to a party?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . I’m not really the social type.” She looked at the ground as she talked.
“You don’t have to be. You just have to be yourself.”
“Who else would I be? Are you talking about that other woman again?” She began walking.
“No, no, no. There is no other woman.” He fell in step with her.
“But you said I should be her. Now you’re saying I should be myself. No offense, Officer—”
“Call me Hank.”
“No offense, Officer Hank, but you’re kinda confusing.” She headed toward the corner of the block. Hank stayed with her.
“Okay, let’s try this one more time. Are you going to be in town Sunday night?”
“Well, uh—”
“Then I’ll pick you up at six o’clock. We’re going to a small party. Where are you staying?”
She shook her head. “Officer, how about I meet you there?”
“Great. I’ll see you Sunday night at six o’clock at the bookstore. Dress casual.”
This is not happening. Wynona couldn’t figure out how a good old country boy had outsmarted her in such a short span of time. Either I’m having a really bad day, or I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. She had finally shaken the officer, but now she was suddenly aware of someone following her. He wasn’t making much noise, but she could feel his presence behind her. Hank? No, her instincts were excellent, and they told her the energy was different.
It’s a shame I’ll have to stand the poor man up. He seems nice. And he’s cute as a damn button.
Wynona crossed the street and was on the sidewalk that bordered the town green—the square block of green grass, trees, and a gazebo in the center of town—so she didn’t have the benefit of a store window to stop and look at. The more she walked, the more she could feel him in her personal space. He was really crowding her now. Was he just a thoughtless fast walker? No, not with the expanse of grass where he could pass her if he wanted. He was on her heels.
She shouldn’t have worn these Jimmy Choos to walk around town in. But they were so pretty . . . Her ankle gave out again, and she stopped all of a sudden to keep from falling off her four-inch heels. The person behind her had no choice but to plow right into her. They both went down onto the grass, and the contents of her purse spilled all around her. As she began to pick her things up, she turned to see just who this idiot was.
Oh, for crying out loud. It’s a kid. She glared at him but saw he was writhing around in pain. Abandoning the contents of her purse, she went to see if he was all right.
Lying on his back, he swayed slightly from side to side and clutched his left leg that was bent at the knee and pressed up against his chest. As she neared him, asking if he was okay, he suddenly let out a wail. His thigh dropped to the ground, and he clutched his unattached calf to his chest.
“My leg! My leg! What have you done?” he howled dramatically.
She was momentarily horrified. He’d turned to lay on his side, shielding her view so that all she saw was a tennis shoe sticking out from under his arm as he rocked and sobbed into the grass, hugging his calf like a baby doll. What should she do? Call for help? Put something on his leg to slow the bleeding?
Then she realized there was no blood. He wore baggy cargo shorts that hung over his knee, well, one knee at least, the other one was in the kid’s arms. A prosthesis. You can’t kid a kidder.
She marched over, clutched the tennis shoe, and pulled the leg out of his grasp. “Well, I’ll be,” she said, examining the leg. “I’ll admit you had me for a second, dude. Nice try.”
The kid was still on his back, rocking from side to side, but now he was in peals of laughter instead of fits of sorrow. She dropped the leg onto his chest with a thud and went back to her purse, where she resumed gathering the contents.
A book was in her pile of things, and she knew it wasn’t hers. She picked it up and rolled her eyes. Everything You Always Wanted to know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask. The dirty little cretin; he wanted to intimidate her. Well, he picked the wrong girl. She stuffed everything back into her shoulder bag while he strapped his prosthesis on.
He stood, and as she handed the book to him, she said, “Oh, you poor dear. Having to resort to a textbook for instruction. Or is it like a dirty book? Will nobody go out with you? Well, don’t you be ashamed.” As she talked, she noticed something in his hand. Something he was trying to hide.
He mumbled some inane apologies and attempted to turn while stowing the object in his hand into one of the cargo pockets.
She opened her purse, rifled around, and realized her wallet was missing. She quickly scanned the area. There were people milling about on the sidewalks, but nobody was near her. She bounded after him and grabbed his upper arm.
He looked over his shoulder just as she clamped a second hand to the base of his neck. He tried to pull away, but her long fingernails dug into the base of his scalp. He stopped, and she whirled him around to face her.
She tried to make her tone as deadly as possible, but her Southern accent surely softened it. She adjusted his collar and smoothed the front of his shirt. “What’s your name, slick?”
“Poop on you.” He tried to turn away, but she held on firmly.
“Well, Poop, if I ever see you again, I will snatch off that leg of yours and beat you with it myself.” She smiled at him as if they were having a pleasant conversation, but she could see the look in his eyes go from cocky to wary. “And then I will stuff said limb into your throat and pull it out of your ugly little belly button.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. She poked his belly, patted his cheek, and then increased her grip on his upper arm. “You’re just a two-bit hoodlum. I’m a professional. Don’t mess with me.”
The boy swallowed hard again. Her wallet, which he’d never gotten into his pocket, dropped to the ground.
“Trixie?” She heard Hank call to
her from about twenty yards away and nearing. “Trixie, is this kid bothering you? What happened?”
She whispered to the boy, “Let’s let this be our little secret, shall we?” She retrieved her wallet and turned to Hank. “Well, Officer Hank, I think the poor boy was making a pass at me, bless his heart,” she covered her mouth with her hand as if she were embarrassed, “because he showed me this vile book . . . ”
Hank saw the book for the second time that day, and he reached for his handcuffs. “Hands behind your back, son.”
The kid stepped back. “What for? Carrying a book? She bumped into me.”
“No, I’m gonna arrest you for being a public menace and a stupid idiot to boot.”
“Oh no, Hank. That’s not necessary. I handled it. And he’s right. I stopped too fast and caused us to collide. I’m sure it was all an accident and a misunderstanding.”
The kid’s eyes darted from Hank to Wynona, and he nodded vigorously, gulping once again.
“I’m not letting him get away with it this time. This little punk—”
“Uh, Hank, can I talk to you for a second?” She began to walk away, but when he didn’t follow, she hooked a thumb over her shoulder and said, “Over here?”
Hank pointed to the kid. “Jimmy Dean, you move one muscle and I swear I will shoot you.” He stalked toward Wynona.
She couldn’t afford a big to-do at the police station, and she didn’t want the kid blabbing about their little scuffle, so she sweet-talked Hank into dropping the matter. By the time she was done, Jimmy Dean was the object of much pity. When Hank finally let him go, she called out after him.
“You remember that advice I gave you now, you hear?” she drawled, cupping her hand next to her big red mouth. “Always remember that, and you’ll be armed with the proper knowledge of how to treat a girl.” She waved her fingers at him. “Toodeloo.”
Jimmy Dean turned back briefly, and she made sure her hair was out of her face and her sunglasses were off so he could see the daggers in her eyes.
Mama always said . . . Good looks won’t put food on the table.
Sunday after church, Louetta, Pickle, and Martha Maye began putting away table displays in preparation for the party. Ima Jean, Charlotte, and Butterbean filled the empty tables with food. They’d made the checkout counter a wet bar and placed flowers from Lou’s garden in vases all over the store. Lou bustled about handling the occasional customer, putting her special touch on things, and ordering everybody around. She couldn’t have been happier.
“You come back tonight for the party now, you hear?” she said to every customer who came in that day.
“Mama, we’re gonna have everybody in town here if you don’t quit inviting people.”
“What’s wrong with having the whole town? Tessie deserves it.” Lou glanced toward the door, and her face hardened. “There’s one person I won’t be inviting.”
Jimmy Dean sauntered in like he owned the place. He actually had the gall to wink at Louetta.
“‘Scuse me, I have some work to do.” She turned on her heel and disappeared into her office.
About ten minutes later, Martha Maye knocked on the door and came rushing in. “Mama, I gotta call Johnny. We have a shoplifter.”
Lou put her hand over her daughter’s, which had reached for the phone. “Let me guess. Jimmy Dean?”
She pulled her hand back. “How’d you know?”
“That’s how he gets his kicks.” Lou sank into her chair.
“Then why won’t you let me call Johnny? We need to put that little punk in the pokey.”
“It’s a trick, Martha Maye. Don’t fall for it. The little cotton picker is just looking to see who he can humiliate today.” Lou told her daughter what had happened the day before, and Martha Maye slumped into a chair.
“Can’t you ban him from coming into the store or something?”
“What for? Outsmarting me? I do that and he’ll make me the laughingstock of the town. Plus his high muckety-muck father would raise Cain. I don’t need that. It might be bad for business.” Lou pushed on her thighs and got to her feet. “Let’s go kill him with kindness.”
She looked around the store, but when Jimmy Dean was nowhere in sight, she went up to Ima Jean and Charlotte. “Where’d the little criminal go?”
“He left,” Charlotte said. “And he never did put that book back.”
“Are you sure he took a book?”
“Oh yeah, he made sure we saw him.”
“It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature,” Ima Jean said.
“No, it certainly is not, Ima Jean. And Jimmy Dean’s gonna find out it’s not nice to fool me either. You know what that boy needs? He needs to be whipped like cornbread batter.”
“Mama!”
“Well he does. The child acts like he doesn’t have any raising, and maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with him.”
Butterbean piped up from the front window. “Here she comes! Here she comes!”
Louetta tapped her watch. “Would you look at the time. We’re gonna have to put Jimmy Dean on the shelf for the time being. Is everything ready? It’s party time.”
“Move over, bacon! Here comes something leaner,” Ima Jean said.
Wynona had walked all over town. She’d managed to talk to very few people, although it was hard because the townsfolk were the friendliest she’d ever run across. It wasn’t until she noticed droves of people going into the bookstore that she remembered the party she was supposed to attend with that police officer. What was his name again? Officer Beanblossom? Oh good grief.
At the very moment that she had the instinct to hightail it out of the vicinity, a hand touched her shoulder from behind. She whirled around, grabbing the arm, preparing to attack. Then she realized it was the officer.
“You’re right on time, Trixie.” His smile lit up his face, but pain registered briefly as he pulled his arm from her grasp. “Ooh, you have some grip there, sugar.”
“Oh, uh . . . sorry.” She flashed a shy smile, pushed up her glasses, and stared at the ground. “Actually, I can’t stay.” As she backed away from him, she couldn’t help but see the hurt flash across his face. And this time it wasn’t from physical pain.
“You’ve gotta stay. I’ve told all my buddies I’m bringing the prettiest woman in town to the party. You can’t make a liar out of me.”
Wynona retreated another two steps, shaking her head no, but Hank easily caught up with her.
“Don’t be shy, ‘lil lady. Everyone will love you.” He took her by the elbow and thrust her toward the bookstore door.
“No . . . uh . . . I . . . ” She felt herself being propelled along and knew she really didn’t have a choice. She could make a scene and be more conspicuous, or she could go along and play dumb and boring and hope to go mostly unnoticed. Still, she had to try one more time. “I really didn’t have a chance to dress for a party. Maybe I should go to the hotel and change before I go inside.”
“No, you should come inside with me right now. You look beautiful.”
“But—”
“Come with me, Miss Trixie.” He gave her a wink and led her through the door.
Mama always said . . . If it were easy, everybody would be doing it.
The whole town didn’t come to the party for Tess, but at least half the town did. The bookstore was packed.
As they entered the store, Wynona felt the gaze of the crowd on her and inwardly cringed. She kept her sunglasses on and her head down.
A low rumble swept across the room as word of Hank and a new woman spread like kudzu on a hill. A big group by the door made an effort not to stare.
Caledonia was the first to offer Southern hospitality to the new woman. Johnny turned and included them.
“Officer Beanblossom, I didn’t know you had a date for tonight. Hi, darlin’. I’m Caledonia Culpepper.” She stuck her hand out and the woman shook it. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Trixie.” She o
ffered a weak smile.
They all exchanged hellos, and then Paprika joined them.
“Trixie, Hank, I’d like y’all to meet my good friend, Paprika.”
Caledonia leaned in and whispered to Hank, “If it doesn’t work out with this one, you give my Spice Girl here a chance.” She patted his arm.
“I told Mama we’d have so many people in here we wouldn’t have room to swing a cat.” Martha Maye stood under her husband Johnny’s arm, smiling and surveying the bookstore.
“Not to take away anything from Tess, and I’m sure that’s why most people are here, but honestly, honey, word got out that y’all were cooking. That’s why they flocked here in droves.”
“What are you two lovebirds doing next weekend?” Jack put his arm around Martha Maye.
“Watch it now, Jackson. She’s a married woman,” Johnny joked.
“And a happily married one at that.” Jack slapped Johnny on the back.
Martha Maye beamed.
“We’ll talk to y’all later.” Caledonia and Paprika moved on.
Johnny said to Hank, “I hate to talk shop at a social function, but right before I left the station, I got a fax about a murder over in Atlanta. It looks like a professional job.”
“Got a description of the perp?”
Wynona shifted her weight from foot to foot and pretended to survey the room.
“No description. Fax said the vic was tortured something awful.”
Wynona excused herself. Hank called after her telling her not to run off. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. As she walked away, she heard him say, “Thanks, Chief. Your shoptalk chased my date away.”
She tried to weave in and out of people, hoping to stay under Hank’s radar until she could find the door. As she passed the food table where Caledonia and Paprika were, Caledonia grabbed her arm and said, “Trixie, I love your dress.”
Caledonia had on a coral and mint flowered dress, cinched at her small waist with a coral belt. Her headband was also coral as were her sandals. Trixie wore a loose-fitting multi-colored bohemian style dress that had a small pattern at the top and larger patterns from the waist down. The two women’s styles were widely different.