Chancey Jobs (Chancey Books Book 4)

by Kay Shostak

  “Hi, honey,” I say with a side hug for her. “Still feeling bad?”

  She nods. “I had no idea it could be like this.”

  “Yeah, but surely it’ll be better soon.”

  She nods again then moves toward one of the nearby tables. “I’m going to sit down.”

  “Can I get you something to drink? A Sprite, maybe?”

  She shakes her head and even that bit of motion apparently makes her nausea worse. “No, thank you.”

  I pull out a chair, examining the swath of blue fabric and bow on the back of the chair, just for the party. “This is too cute.”

  “Yeah, Granmissus will want us to do them for the wedding when she sees them.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She and FM stopped inside the house to drop off some papers for Griffin. She’s found another tourism grant to apply for. She never stops.”

  “No, she doesn’t, and I’m missing that now that I’m having to clean my own house and cook our food and do our laundry.”

  “Carolina, I’m so sorry. I need to help you more. It’s just I can barely stay upright long enough to get my homework done. And now with all this wedding stuff.”

  “You’re fine. You just need to take care of yourself. Let Missus do the wedding.”

  Tears fill her eyes. “I guess. But it’s my wedding.” Then she’s full out crying.

  “Oh, honey,” I pull her into a hug and rock her back and forth a bit. “I’ll help make her back off. You just let me know what you want to do, and I’ll make sure that gets done.”

  She catches her breath a couple times and then lays her head on my shoulder and mumbles. “I want to do the wedding at noon with Patty and Andrew.”

  Well, that stops the rocking. “What?”

  She sits up and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to have competing weddings and receptions. I want to do it with Patty so we can plan together and just have one big party. I don’t feel like being the center of attention by myself.”

  “You won’t,” I plead. “You’ll have Will.”

  “That’s true, but it would be nice to have Patty beside me, too.”

  And Gertie. And Andrew’s big family. Good thing Missus will never let it happen.

  Anna smiles up at me. “Will said you’d help me. He was right. You offering to tell Missus already makes me feel better.”

  Me tell Missus she has to share the spotlight with Gertie Samson? “Oh no, it won’t be good coming from…” And then tears pool in her gray eyes and the dark circles under her eyes deepen until I can’t take it anymore. “Of course, honey, if that’s what you need me to do.”

  She hugs me, and over her back I check out the wine bottles in the wheelbarrow ice. Yep, that should be almost enough to make this all better.

  Okay, so I didn’t need as much wine as I was afraid I would to make things better. When Leslie and her friends vacated the cushiony, corner couches, I settled into the end of one. My plaid cotton shirt and navy skirt are cool and perfect for the warmth of lots of people gathered around on the first of many humid Southern nights to come.

  I have my feet propped on one of the pillowed foot rests, and with only a half glass of wine, I’m feeling very copacetic. Very chill. There’s the perfect mix of ages, and everyone seems to genuinely like each other. Inside the screened porch, candles give off a peachy glow, and the food tables are popular. Jackson and a couple of the men are playing corn hole with a group of boys, including Bryan and Grant. Brittani and some of her friends are watching the boys. The boys know they are being watched and the girls know the boys know they are being watched.

  As Will walks in from the side yard, I see him scan the party and watch his face relax into a grin when he sees Anna sitting at a table of young couples. He loosens his tie, takes it off, and shoves it into his pocket as he makes straight for her.

  Savannah and her group are down at the back of the yard, in the darkest area, of course. I expect before long they’ll wander up here and say they are going, well, somewhere. Let’s be honest, once a kid can drive, you really can’t be sure where they are. You have to hope and trust. After all, they are only months away from being old enough to join the military or get married, all without a parent’s permission.

  I heard it put this way once: by the time a kid is eighteen, they need to be ready to take full responsibility for their life, because that’s where it will reside in a court of law or in any contract they sign. So, that means at sixteen they need to be almost done. Scary, but true.

  Susan, in her cute red bulldog dress, is flitting here and there. She waves as she passes by me, and then my little private party ends.

  “Are your legs broken?” Missus asks. “That is the only acceptable reason I can see for a grown woman to sit with her feet up like that in public.”

  With a groan, I drop my feet and scoot back on my seat so she can pass by. She sniffs at the low cushioned seats, but sits down, back still straight, knees locked together and her pocketbook on her lap. “Carolina, we need to discuss the wedding.”

  Oh, wow, my party really is over.

  “We will be doing the bridesmaid luncheon at your house, like we held the candidates’ tea for the Whitten County beauty pageant. That will be on the day of the wedding at noon. The young men in the wedding party will spend that morning on the golf course, so I will need to ascertain their favorite course. The young women will dress at your home, after the luncheon of course. Beau is lined up to provide hair and make-up assistance. The boys—young men, I mean—can dress at my house and then walk over to the church.”

  Her face is filled with concentration as she pauses. “That doesn’t seem quite right, does it? Anna and the girls should be at my house, her family home, getting ready. And Will and his attendants should be at your house. Oh, yes, then we can have the girls arrive at the church in a horse and carriage.” She smiles and nods. “Oh, yes. That is what we’ll do. Good idea, Carolina.”

  I wave my hand at her. “Horse and carriage?! Wait, none of this has been my idea. Matter of fact, that won’t really work. Don’t you think Anna will want to go to Patty’s wedding at noon?” C’mon, I’ve only had half a glass of wine. You don’t think I’m going to spill the truth now, do you?

  Missus pulls a face. “On her own wedding day? Oh, I think not. Besides, between you and I, we know what that wedding will be like.” She shudders. “No, absolutely not.” Then she stares at me. “You weren’t planning on attending that wedding, were you?”

  “Yes, I was. I am.”

  “No, just not possible. And you will share that with Anna, won’t you? When she realizes you are not going, she will understand.” Missus stands up, all in one swift motion, places her pocketbook over her arm and smooths down her skirt.

  My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. This really isn’t the time or place to challenge her. She waves her hand, and I see FM turn away, with a clap on the back of the man next to him, from the group he was talking with. Missus steps past me and waits for FM to join her.

  “Good evening, Carolina. Hey look, you two are dressed plum alike.” And he’s right. Missus has on a plaid cotton shirt almost identical to mine, and we both have on navy skirts.

  I’m not sure who is more mortified.

  Of course, Savannah and her group choose this exact moment to make their exit through the party, informing their parents of where they probably aren’t going.

  FM is grinning and pointing. “Look, Savannah, your mom and Missus are dressed just alike. We should get a picture.”

  My daughter looks at me, shrugs, and smiles. “Mom, you want us to get a picture?”

  “No,” I say, but Missus cuts it all short as she lifts her chin, then turns to leave. FM follows behind her, still laughing.

  “Mom, we’re going,” Savannah says.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Um, probably downtown. See if Ruby’s is open. She said she might be there making pies for the senior picnic Monday.”

 
“Hmm, Ruby’s? Well, behave. And remember you are to be home before midnight, right?”

  “Of course,” she says. She and the rest of the girls have on sundresses or khaki skirts and dressy shirts. The boys wear khaki shorts and mostly collared shirts. They all look so cute and so grown-up.

  Jenna plops down beside me on the couch. “Miss Carolina, can you tell my mom I was here, but we’re going, uh,” she looks up at Savannah, “to Ruby’s and whatnot?”

  “Where is your mom?”

  Jenna flips her mane of blonde waves and curls off her shoulder and leans toward me. “Did you hear about her new job?”

  When I shake my head, Jenna stands up, smooths her dress down, and steps past me. “Well, I can’t tell you. I promised. Just tell her I’ll be home before curfew. Thanks!”

  The crowd of sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds meanders through the party on its way to the side gate and freedom. I get up, of course, not as gracefully as Jenna, but sadly, also not as graceful as Missus. That stinks. How did she smooth out the wrinkles in her cotton skirt and shirt with just a single passing of her hands? I’m more wrinkled than Missus’ nose when she thinks about Patty’s wedding. Okay, that was ugly, but I feel better.

  With the teenagers out of the way, I can see Laney’s arrived. As she makes her way down the path of pavers she waves at me, then raises and tips her hand toward her mouth. Oh, she wants me to get her a glass of wine. No problem, as I was just on my way to visit the wheelbarrow.

  With both glasses, I wander through the people chatting and visiting. Finally, Laney and I meet, and she grabs the glass. “Thank you so much.” She pulls me into a tight hug and just as quickly releases me. “Party looks great. Susan did all this?”

  “Yes, I did.” Susan slips up beside us. “Surprised?”

  Laney hugs her. “A bit. You always say I go overboard with parties.”

  “This isn’t just a party. It’s for Leslie. I can’t believe she’ll be going away to school in just a couple months. So, did you tell her?”

  Susan actually looks mischievous, which is odd. She is the most straightforward person I’ve ever met. “Tell me what?” I ask.

  Laney beams. “About my new job. I’m the brand new manager of Southern Comfort.”

  Susan is watching me closely, but I don’t see why. “Southern Comfort? The alcohol? That’s a liquor, isn’t it? I think Daddy serves it in his eggnog.”

  “Silly goose,” Laney laughs and shakes her head. “No, over in Collinswood. You know, they got that tourism grant last year?”

  “Sure,” I deadpan. “The one Missus was so set on that she faked a ghost at my house.”

  “Well, they are really moving fast, and without my job here on the town council and me promising Mama to not gamble, well, I needed something to do. You kind of helped me get the job, too.”

  “Me? How did I help?”

  “You gave me experience! I feel more than qualified for my new position.”

  Susan is fully enjoying the show, and I still don’t understand. “Did I miss something? What is this Southern Comfort?”

  Laney holds up her nearly empty wine glass in a toast and, just like her daughter did earlier, tosses her curls behind her. “Well, its full name is Southern Comfort B&B. And I’m running it.”

  See? I knew a wheelbarrow full of wine wouldn’t be enough.

  Chapter 21

  “The old ladies who clean up and decorate the sanctuary at my church are having a fit over folks bringing these cups to church!” Shannon says. “That’s why I have to finish it here.”

  The sun isn’t up, but Moonshots is. Up and running with coffee brewed and more brewing, fresh flowers on the tables, and me a bit short of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I’m not exactly blaming the wheelbarrow, but it played a part. However, being here is helping.

  There’s something I like about leaving the house all quiet and dark, finding the streets the same way, parking alone on the square and then letting myself in the dark front door. Until I switch on the front lights, the only light comes from the back where Jordan is busy. My first duty is turning on the bright lights in the customer and counter area, then I get things ready out front. Fill the cups and napkins and creamers and anything else missed by the teenagers who worked Saturday afternoon. Moonshots isn’t open Saturday night here in Chancey. From what I gather, a lot of things are done differently at this store. I’m still not sure why it was even opened.

  By time I walk in the door at 6 am, the first pot of dark, rich coffee is brewing and smells wonderful. Before I start cleaning and restocking, I set out the muffins Ruby brings by on Saturday afternoons. This is the only morning there’s any food served at MoonShots. (Another oddity of the Chancey store.) Ruby has made an awkward peace with Jordan. Mostly, I think it’s because her business hasn’t really been hurt. Plus she’s selling more muffins than ever.

  Shannon brings her troublesome purple cup over to the counter and examines the muffins. “Think I’ll take that one. It doesn’t look like chocolate. I’m not partial to chocolate this early.” Shannon hangs out with us on Sundays after she delivers her flowers for each table.

  Jordan pauses from fiddling with one of the machines near me and sighs. “Me either. But that old bat won’t let me make an order. We have to take what she has left over from Saturday morning since she doesn’t open on what she calls, ‘The Lord’s Day.’”

  Shannon grins and leans on the counter. “Ruby would kick you two ways from Sunday if she heard you call her an ‘old bat.’”

  Jordan shrugs and pulls on a lever to release some wonderful smelling coffee. She hands me the cup, and I take a long whiff. “Perfect,” I say with a look at my boss.

  She nods. “It’s not hard to make just plain coffee perfect. Best thing about this store stuck in the hills is no one wants the ‘fancy’ coffees on Sunday morning.” She draws out the word fancy and adds her estimation of a southern twang to it. “People here think half & half is fancy. ‘Just give me whatever ya got in that there carton.’” She shudders, then smirks. “It does make mornings easy here, though.”

  The simplicity of coffee requests means Jordan hasn’t had to hire anyone else for Sunday mornings. I just hand out coffee and give out muffins. Ruby brings us our tray of muffins before she delivers trays to the three big local churches on Saturday afternoons. They’re all free, well, to the people eating them. MoonShots pays for them all. Diego calls it overhead; Jordan calls it Diego bowing to hillbillies.

  Diego wasn’t here even two days on his trip. He and Jordan had a huge fight upstairs, which even though both Savannah and Jenna were working, they couldn’t hear actual words. After that, he ran out of town like a scalded dog. Jordan doesn’t smile hardly at all, now. And she’s losing weight. She no longer looks svelte and stylish, she just looks skinny and tired.

  Patty says she doesn’t sleep hardly at all. Patty’s worried about her, but what can any of us do? She pretty much thinks we’re all hicks, and she can’t wait to move back to civilization, as she calls it.

  So I drink free coffee, eat free muffins, and ignore her. Oh, and get my $100 each Sunday. We get a steady stream of folks starting about six-thirty, all headed to church. Bet it’s not just Shannon’s church getting fed up with purple MoonShots cups getting left in the pews.

  By eight o’clock today only chocolate muffins are left, but that’s not a problem as the teenagers are beginning to show up on their way to their Sunday School classes. Savannah and Susie Mae get here first, and both have specialized orders for Jordan to fill. They pretty much ignore me. Jenna arrives right behind them, and being a beauty queen, asks me how I am, tells me she likes my tee-shirt, and smiles a bunch. Being ignored isn’t that bad.

  Angie doesn’t drink coffee, so she just sits with Savannah and Susie Mae instead of coming to the counter, and then Jenna takes the final chair. They take up only one table, but in the space of the next ten minutes, over half the chairs in the shop are pulled around it and filled with their friends. Fr
om behind the counter I have a front row seat.

  Ricky has his arm around Savannah, and the way he draws circles on her bare upper arm with his thumb looks too possessive. I can’t help but smile when she pushes his hand away and then shrugs off his arm. He leaves in only a few weeks for summer football camp at Georgia State in downtown Atlanta. You’d think he’d be looking ahead, but no. It’s like he wants to make sure everything in Chancey stays just like it is now. Savannah broke up with him right before graduation, but then got back together with him last week, kind of.

  I wish he’d just move down to Atlanta. All this emotion isn’t good for keeping distance between young people hopped up on hormones, if you know what I mean. I’ve already got one out of wedlock pregnancy; we are not having another one.

  Laney comes in the door, says hello to a number of folks, and then comes to the counter. “I see you burning holes in my nephew over there. He does seem to have gotten a bit clingy lately, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, I know he’s anxious about going off to school and making the team and all that, but I don’t want Savannah to be trying to make him feel better.”

  Leaning on the counter in front of me, she joins me in watching them. “You got that right. I know from personal experience, big ol’ jock boys like to have their high school honey on one arm and a cute college freshman on the other.” Laney turns back to look at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll jerk a knot in his tail about Savannah. You know I’ve always got your back.”

  “Like leaving me to run the B&B alone, while you go build up that place in Collinswood? How does that have my back?”

  She shrugs and pats her hair, which is pulled back and smoothed into a classy bun. Her dress is sedate, no cleavage, no tightness across the hips. It’s a rather non-descript, gray shirtdress with no waist, very business-like. “Where did you get that dress?”

  She ignores my question. “You need to run your B&B yourself. You know that. There’s not room for all of us up there telling you what to do. Besides, you only took our advice when we didn’t leave you a choice. This is my chance to really see what I can do outside of Chancey.”