In a Jam

by Cindy Dorminy

  “Yeah.”

  “Stanley, I’m really sorry.” Her voice quivers.

  He waves as the chimes jingle at his departure.

  I pick at a hangnail, and Andie rubs the dish towel over the same spot on the counter again and again. A Boston company is laying him off, and even though she has nothing to do with that company and his situation, I can tell she feels guilty by geographic association.

  “I feel like a damn Yankee.” I detect the slightest Southern accent seeping into her words. She rubs the counter again, and if she doesn’t stop, she’s going to wear a hole right through it.

  I reach out and squeeze her hands. She stares at our joined hands before she braves a glance my way.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “He should have stayed in school. Getting a high school diploma isn’t that hard in this town.” As if on autopilot, I rub the backs of her hands with my thumbs. She doesn’t jerk away. I could easily tug her over the counter, and we could continue that wet T-shirt contest we started before Stanley interrupted us, but the mood is gone. It’s just as well.

  “I feel so awful for him.”

  “He’ll find work.” At least if I can help it.

  She pulls her hands away from mine and crosses her arms, focusing on the trash can. “No, I mean, he ate all those muffins. God, he’s going to be sick tomorrow.”

  I chuckle, and I guess now is as good a time as any to leave. She follows me to the front door.

  I turn to face her. “Good night, Andie.”

  She bites her lip and stares at my mouth. Before I can stop myself, I lick my lips. I swear I see her pupils dilate.

  “See ya.” Andie takes a peek behind her. “And thanks for the... mess.”

  “Where are my manners?” I take a step back toward the kitchen. “I should help you clean up.”

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “No big deal. I’ve dealt with more water than this.”

  I snap my fingers, remembering what I need to tell her. “One more thing.” I pull out my phone and search for the Jacksons’ blog. “I think you should see something.”

  I hand her my phone, and she sucks in all the air in the room. After a moment of near hyperventilating, she reads aloud from the blog. “Miss Andie Carson, granddaughter of the late Mary Grace Carson, has taken Smithville by storm. Not only is she rude to her customers by threatening to destroy their phones, she’s disrespectful to the only employee willing to work under harsh conditions that only someone from a big city would approve of.”

  She blinks away tears and grips my phone so hard, I think she’s going to smash it.

  “Don’t read any more. It’s only trash talk.”

  Andie groans as she collapses into the nearest booth. “Her antics have not included drinking yet, but we’re sure since she doesn’t have sense enough to wear shoes or even the simplest common sense as to how to shut off a water valve, we are pretty sure her drinking ways will be here soon enough. However, if her inability to pay for something as inexpensive as plumber’s tape is any indication, she has probably already spent her way through her inheritance. Tsk. Tsk.”

  If the Jacksons weren’t so old and I wasn’t nice, I would have them arrested. This isn’t helping one bit in convincing Andie to stay. If I weren’t from here, they would scare me off too. I hold my hand out to retrieve my phone, but she rotates so her back is to me.

  She reads the rest in silence before relinquishing my phone. Andie clears her throat, throws back her shoulders, and juts her chin in the air. “They ‘tsked’ me. How rude. But at least they didn’t post the picture of my ass in the air while I was cleaning up the place.”

  Before I can stop myself, I rub little circles on her back with my hand, and her head falls back. “A silver lining in an otherwise rusty situation. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you certainly didn’t do anything to lose the money coming to you.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your attorney knows you’re working hard if he doesn’t have anything better to do than follow their blog.”

  Her shoulders slump as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Damn, that woman is growing on me. And this is really, really bad. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make sure she gets her money. If it means hovering over her every move, I will, even if it means she won’t stick around afterward. She’s going to sell the property, leave town, and I’m going to be left with a broken heart and a dried-up Main Street. The town may recover at some point, but I don’t think my heart will. Not this time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Andie

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand. That’s the third time it has gone off in the last five minutes. The sun hasn’t even peeked through the blinds yet. After my first long, exhausting day in the shop, the sexy visitor, and my get-back-at-the-Jacksons plan that had me up way too late, I’m not quite ready to start the day.

  My phone buzzes again. “All right.” I snatch it off the table before it vibrates onto the floor. “Yeah.”

  “Up and at ‘em.”

  “Regina?”

  “That’s right. I’m outside. Time for our jog.”

  After my waterlogged day yesterday, I completely forgot about our plans. Gah. The only thing worse than exercising this early in the morning is having a hangover.

  “I think my doctor wouldn’t want me to strain myself so soon after my visit to the ER.”

  “Get up,” Mel yells into Regina’s phone.

  I let out a groan. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

  “Every minute you stall, the humidity level rises another percentage. Tick tock.”

  “I’m coming.” I fling the covers off me, throw on running shorts and a sports bra, and stumble down the steps with shoes in hand. I lock the shop behind me and shove my shoes on. “Let’s do this.”

  We walk the three blocks to the high school, mostly in silence. Mel’s braid swishes around her as she takes long strides. I really should have brought a ponytail holder to get my mop of hair off my neck.

  Out of the blue, Regina turns around to face me. “I’m going to get this out in the open right now.”

  “Oh dear,” Mel says.

  This isn’t encouraging. Regina’s brought me out here to turn on me? I’ll never find my way back to the shop.

  “I’m still friends with Willow. There. I’ve said it.”

  She acts as though I’m supposed to know who this person is. “And this means something because...”

  Regina blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Willow is Gunnar’s ex.”

  So now the hostility at the hospital makes perfect sense. They see me getting in the way of their friend getting back with Gunnar.

  “She still lives in Chicago, but we keep in touch.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I say. “I think you should know by the way I schooled you in the hospital that I can take care of myself.”

  She groans. “I’m so sorry about that.”

  “You should be,” Mel interjects.

  We continue until we get to the high school. It’s a typical two-story school in need of repair, but the football stadium lacks nothing. I’ve seen college stadiums smaller than this one. Even if every resident in the county showed up for the game, it still wouldn’t be filled.

  “Wow.”

  “Yep. Football is king in the South.” Regina makes a sweeping motion with her arms as if she’s a spokesmodel on a game show. With a smile, she walks onto the track that surrounds the field and stretches her legs.

  We start out at a slow pace. Regina and I run side by side, our short legs keeping the same pace. Mel runs ahead of us as if she’s bouncing off a cloud.

  “I would kill to have legs that long,” Regina says.

  “Tell me about it. I was not blessed with height. That’s for sure.”

  “Don’t you hate it that us short girls have to watch every dang thing we eat?”

  Mel jogs backward. “Hey now, I have to be careful too.”

>   “Pfft,” Regina says. “You gain a pound, and you don’t notice. But if I gain a pound...”

  I finish her sentence. “You can’t zip your pants.”

  “Exactly.”

  Mel rolls her eyes. “I’m going to leave you two half-pints so I can get a real workout. See you in a few.”

  Mel darts off, and before I can take one long, sucking breath, she’s halfway down the track.

  “Show-off.”

  Regina giggles then clears her throat. “There’s one more thing you might not know about.”

  Crap. If there is a love child, I think I might puke worse than I did this weekend. I stop jogging and stand beside the goal post. “Lay it on me.”

  Regina cringes. “There’s this blog...”

  “I’ve seen it. Gunnar showed me.”

  She exhales. “Oh, thank God. I didn’t want to be the one to show you the sinister side of Smithville.”

  I pull a knee to my chest to stretch out my back. “Like I said, I can take care of myself. Let’s just say I might have started my own blog.”

  She throws her head back and cackles. “I love it.”

  Mel runs past us again if for no other reason than to show off her amazingly long legs.

  Regina gets melancholy as she watches Mel run past. “Gunnar is a great guy.”

  “There’s nothing going on between—”

  “Not yet, but I’m not blind.”

  Sweat trickles down my back. I think the humidity level jumped ten degrees in five seconds, especially in my nether regions.

  “Here’s the backstory. Gunnar was so sweet to Willow when her family lost their home in a tornado, and after that, they were inseparable. She’s never gotten over him even though she was the one to break things off. To be the smartest person I know, she can be so stupid sometimes.”

  “I’ve made a few boneheaded decisions in my life too.” The first time I met Tinsley was one of my lowest moments. He found me passed out next to my car. If he hadn’t come by, I could have been robbed or worse. Since then, he has been like my guardian angel, always there when I need someone to help me out of a tangled mess.

  “Haven’t we all?” She starts down the track at a fast walk.

  Mel zips past us again. I don’t even think she’s worked up a sweat.

  “All I’m saying is that Willow can be really sweet. If she wasn’t, she and Gunnar would have never been an item. But when she feels threatened, she can turn into a real bitch. She’ll say and do things in order to get what she wants. I guess it comes in handy now that she’s an attorney.”

  I think I’m going to hurl. Gunnar’s ex is an attorney. Thank God Granny didn’t get Willow to control the will.

  “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Of course, but Jolene’s already told her about you, so don’t be surprised if Willow makes an impromptu visit.”

  I stop walking and wipe the sweat from my eyes. From the way Gunnar has been flirting with me, either he doesn’t have feelings for her anymore, or he doesn’t know the grapevine has reached to wherever Willow now lives. Either way, she’s not my problem. I have an obligation to fulfill my grandmother’s wishes, and while I’m here, I’m going to enjoy myself as much as I can while still being sober. “I’ve spent the last ten years living on the south side of Boston. I don’t scare that easily. And something tells me if he wanted her back, it would have already happened.”

  Regina shrugs. “Most of Gunnar’s friends don’t think too highly of her, especially after she dumped him. That was real shitty of her to do that. But there’s always two sides to every story.”

  I chuckle. “Like when someone from out of town shows up in the emergency room dehydrated?”

  She knuckle-bumps me. “Nice one.”

  My instincts tell me I should tread carefully with everyone in this town. Regina could be setting me up to get knocked down by this big, bad Willow person. Or she could start her own rumors about me. I’m taking a huge gamble hanging out with her and an even bigger one showing her I’m not afraid of what anyone can throw my way. My heart wants Regina and Mel and even Gunnar to be real friends. I should stop kidding myself. I especially want it from Gunnar. He’s hot and single, and I’m not blind. I see the way he undresses me with his eyes every time he’s around me. It has been too long since someone drank me in with their eyes like that. Actually, no one has ever looked at me like that, as if he wants to devour me.

  Regina glances down at her watch then yells, “Five, four, three, two, one.”

  The sprinklers turn on, and we are surrounded by the most awesome spray of water that’s meant for the football field but also soaks the track. From the other side of the field, Mel squeals, trying to dodge the spray of water squirting all over her.

  Not me. I let the cold water soak me to the bone, and it is exhilarating. I turn around in circles with my arms outstretched. “Woo-hoo!”

  Regina giggles. “Welcome to Smithville.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Andie

  My favorite spot in Granny’s apartment is the bay window that overlooks Main Street. As the sun sets, I get to watch the townspeople scurry about down the street without being noticed. I wonder if this was Granny’s favorite spot too. If we have anything in common, I bet she cursed every time she stumbled on that loose step on the stairs like I do. Doubt it. Not one person in this town has a bad word to say about her. They watched out for her and really cared for her. I’ve never had that and don’t think I’ll ever have it anywhere.

  It’s hard to believe that this time last week I was waking up in the drunk tank with Tinsley standing over me, razzing me like he always does. Seven days ago, I never imagined I would have the opportunity to inherit more money than I can count. But money makes people do crazy things, like move over a thousand miles away to live in a dinky town and make coffee and jam. Crazy things like staying sober.

  This week, I’ve been too dog-tired to even be tempted to relapse, except for that time in the hardware store. And that was a very stressful situation. There have been a few times in which my hands got jittery, and one shot would have calmed them. But I really want to see how long I can go without resorting to the bottle.

  Yesterday, after I was nursing sore calves from my run, I learned how to create a blog, and I had a blast giving the Jacksons a taste of their own medicine. I didn’t write anything mean, mostly just silly things I notice they do, like stuff their phones in their droopy bras or not cover their mouths when they sneeze, and I wrote about how I caught one of them scratching her butt. My stats show that at least fifty people found my blog, which may have been due to the fact that I left an anonymous comment on the Biddy’s Blog with a link to mine. And for the last two days, the Jacksons haven’t darkened my door, nor have they posted anything else about me. Maybe I nipped that issue in the bud.

  My morning jogs with Regina and Mel, my baking lessons with Mrs. Cavanaugh, and even smiling all the time have me falling fast asleep as soon as my body hits my grandmother’s lumpy mattress at night.

  Nothing keeps me awake except a few fleeting thoughts about the last time Gunnar visited. Had it not been for Stanley’s entrance, I would have let Gunnar kiss me and do anything else he had in mind. I know I didn’t imagine the desire in his eyes. But thanks to Stanley, I don’t have to be disappointed when Gunnar figures out I’m not worth the effort. Plus, I’ll be leaving soon, and I don’t want to get my emotions all messed up. I would definitely need some liquid courage to get out of that kind of jam.

  But Gunnar is an excellent distraction, and if we had met in another time and place, I would have been all over him. He has skeletons in his closet, and from every time the W word is mentioned around me, I have gathered that either the entire town wants them back together, or they are scared to death of her. Not my problem. In fact, I welcome the reminder that he has an old flame out there still pining for him. It makes him easier to resist. At least I try to tell myself that.

  I’m pretty sure Gunnar is re
sisting too because he hasn’t shown up since, not even for his free breakfast. And this morning, I didn’t even burn the biscuits.

  It’s just as well. But that doesn’t keep my treacherous eyes from scanning the street to see if that fine specimen is patrolling. His police car makes a unique bang when he slams the trunk after retrieving his gym bag. So even though I shouldn’t gawk, I do. Every time. And I am never disappointed.

  I peruse through a scrapbook I found on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. So much of my life is preserved in the yellowing newspaper clippings. My third-grade spelling-bee-championship picture. A photo of the cast of Godspell, in which I played Andie because that was how that play worked. The character names were our real names. Pretty simple but effective. I’m not sure how Granny knew about all these things, especially since most of them happened way before the Internet. Maybe Granny stalked me, because I’m darn sure Mom didn’t share with her.

  Granny, I miss you.

  I flip the page, and the clipping of my prom-queen photo slips loose and falls to the floor. What a joke that night was. Steven Prescott was ready to make a woman out of me. I wasn’t ready, but he was very persuasive. He never gave me a second glance after that night. Like mother, like daughter, except I didn’t get pregnant. Somebody must have been watching out for me that night.

  No more memory lane tonight. I close the book and let out a deep sigh. I have to figure out this jam recipe for more reasons than the fine print in my agreement. The more I learn about my grandmother, the more I want to make her proud. And I want to be proud of myself too. I scoop up all of Granny’s cookbooks, her recipe tin, and the only framed picture of her. Maybe her face will guide me to figure out the mystery. I’m not this stupid. There must be something simple I’m missing.

  “Come on, Granny. Help me out. Let’s do this.”

  Careful to miss the wonky third step, I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. The strawberries I bought from the Piggly Wiggly yesterday are perfect for jam, at least from what I can tell by what I read on the Internet. I am going to figure this out if it kills me in the process.