I place Granny’s picture next to the stove for inspiration and begin to prepare the strawberries, being careful to only use the ones that are overly ripe, a tip I picked up from Mrs. Cavanaugh. I mix in sugar, berries, and lemon juice. It should be easy enough. Hopefully this time, it will work, because the last five attempts resulted in big sticky piles of fruity goo. After a quick stir, all I have to do is wait for it to boil. And wait. And wait.
My heavy eyelids flutter shut. I force my eyes open and do a set of jumping jacks. Out of breath, I pull out my cell phone from my back pocket and select my favorite playlist. When Steven Tyler’s voice belts out “Janie’s Got A Gun,” I’m transported back to my scuzzy Boston apartment. With the broom as my dance partner, I boogie through the kitchen, around the counter, and into the front part of the store. It’s in everyone’s best interest that no one is here because I sound like a dying seagull, but I don’t care.
I make up moves I would only do completely drunk, and by the time my playlist starts over again, I’m a sweaty, hot mess. Falling back into a booth to catch my breath, I inhale something sickly sweet and charred. Crap. My jam.
“Oh, no, no, no.” I run into the kitchen and grab two pot holders to remove the saucepan from the burner. Strawberry goo runs down and splatters onto the stove top. Most of the jam oozes out of the pot like in the movie The Blob. What’s left in the pan is so hard, it would probably be easier to throw the pan away and buy a new one. I’ll never be able to sandblast that crap out of it.
It’s probably going to taste disgusting, but I need to know if this recipe is worth trying again. I scrape a spoonful of jam from the stove top and blow on it to cool the gooey glob threatening to spill over on to my sneakers.
“Hot, hot. Oooo.” I spit it out. “God, that’s nasty.” Yep, this pot is going in the trash. I push down the lever with my foot and toss the saucepan.
A knock on the front door makes me jump. If the Jacksons saw any of this, they are going to get an earful. Their blog has focused on other people lately. Maybe the new kid isn’t such a disappointment after all.
I tiptoe to the front of the store, hoping to God it’s Stanley because I need to talk to him about an idea that is brewing in my head. Regardless of the fact that I don’t want to have his babies, he’s sweet, and I don’t want him to starve or be unemployed.
I peek through the curtains to see Liza Jane standing there. Well, that’s odd. I’ve only seen her in passing since I settled my tab at the hardware store. I didn’t think I was on her radar at all.
I unlatch the door and open it for her. “Hey, Liza. What are you doing? Come on in.” I wave her inside.
She tosses her cigarette onto the sidewalk and enters. Her nose crinkles.
“I know. A kitchen disaster. Sorry about the smell.”
“It’s okay. I was on my way to do our monthly moon bathing by the lake and thought you’d want to join me.”
“Moon bathing?”
“Yeah, we go to the beach on full-moon nights, get sloppy drunk, and watch the sun come up. Want to come along?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so. It’s been a very long week, and I’m trying to figure out this stupid jam recipe. Besides, no booze for me, remember?” But a beer right now sounds very enticing.
She rolls her eyes. “Aw, come on. It’s fun. And where we go, no blue hairs around. Plus, Mel said she might join us tonight. She’s pretty much a teetotaler with her crazy work schedule.”
I scan around at the mess I made then back at Liza. I think I can trust her. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person that would be in—how do they say it down here?—in cahoots with the Jackson sisters.
“I really want to, but I should stay here and clean up. Mrs. Cavanaugh would pitch a fit if she saw the mess I made.”
Liza puts a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t high school. No one is going to make fun of you if you drink Coke without the Jack.”
“I prefer Diet Coke.”
“Same thing.”
I grin. “What if I wanted a Pepsi?”
She gasps. “I retract my invitation.”
We giggle like two schoolgirls, and I take one more glance around at the mess I made. Liza seems nice, and it is really sweet for her to invite me, the strange out-of-towner, to hang out with her local friends. Perhaps I can hang out for a bit and not get tempted to drink. This will be a suitable test of my willpower, and I could use a girls’ night out.
I shrug. “I guess I can clean this up in the morning. Okay, I’ll go.”
Liza gives me a quick hug, almost bringing tears to my eyes. No friend has ever hugged me before or made me feel so welcome. I want to tuck her into my luggage and take her back to Boston with me when I leave.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gunnar
No matter how old I get, I still enjoy coming out for our moon-bathing session. And from my house on the other side of the lake, it’s an easy stroll to the site of the bonfire. It’s stupid, but it’s one time when all of my friends get together, forget about work, and chill. The older we get, we spend more time laughing and less time getting wasted. Those who already have kids have a standing babysitting appointment with grandparents so no one misses an event. It’s one of the many things I missed while I was away in Chicago. Willow sure didn’t, and she would roll her eyes every time I suggested we do something similar at Northwestern. Liza always called her the black Willow spider, and Liza sure had her pegged right.
Someone’s already got a fire started, and by the looks of the coolers lined up by the dock, Jake and Liza must already be here. The moon sparkles on the rippling lake water, and with no boats buzzing by, the only sound I hear is Mitchell’s boom box blaring Southern rock songs as usual. Mel waves as I get closer to the bonfire. Her schedule keeps her from having much free time, but I’m glad she’s here getting to kick back for a change. She has her scrub pants rolled up to her knees, and she runs her feet through the sand. I kick off my flip-flops and carry them in one hand while I tote my cooler in the other. The lake breeze blows through my board shorts and tank top. Before I know it, I’ll have to pull out my jacket. It doesn’t take long before it gets cold out here next to the water.
“Bruce! You made it,” Jake yells, waving me over to the fire.
“Hey, Bruce, Liza, Mitch. Who talked the doc into slumming with us?”
Mel smirks. Mitchell pulls his baseball cap down lower on his face to cover his bashful grin. He takes a swig of his beer as he stokes the fire. The glow on his face makes him appear even more godlike. He’s the pretty boy of the group, and even though tons of girls hit on him on a regular basis, he only has eyes for my cousin.
I stop and stare at the newcomer. “Andie? What are you doing here?”
She sits by the fire, nursing a can of Diet Coke. By the way her mouth drops open, I only assume she didn’t expect to see me, either. My eyes roam her body. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing ratty jeans and a faded T-shirt with something pink stuck to it; she’s sex on a stick. I take another long gander down her body, and when I get to her pink toenails wiggling in the sand, I forget how to breathe.
“I got kidnapped.” She jerks her thumb toward Liza Jane.
Liza gives me a hug. “Yeah, I figured you weren’t going to ask her, so I did.”
Mel snickers. My face is on fire, and I haven’t even got close to the flames yet. “Thanks, Mom.” It’s not that I didn’t want Andie to hang out with us. I was trying to keep her from any potential temptations, and the lake at night is full of opportunities to slip up.
Liza kisses my cheek. “No problem, honey.” She turns to her husband. “His face is titty pink. I love to do that to him.”
Andie covers her face to conceal her laughter. I’m glad someone is getting amusement out of my humiliation.
Mel waves the smoke from the bonfire away from her face and takes a sip of her Coke.
Jake throws both of us cans of beers. Andie’s eyes scan the group before she sticks the can in the sand n
ext to her while she clenches her can of Diet Coke like her life depends on it. I plop down next to Andie and pop the top off my beer. I hold my beer can out, and Andie and I toast. “To your first moon bathing.”
She clinks my can with hers and beams. “To my virgin bathing.”
Jake chuckles. Liza elbows him in the side and clears her throat. “So, Andie, do you want to tell us about your Lifestyle of the Almost Rich, Sometimes Foolish, but Always Human blog?”
Andie spits out her drink, and a few droplets hit my foot. I pat her back to help her catch her breath.
“I never thought anyone would read it. It was purely a way to vent about the Biddy’s Blog.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What did you do?”
Liza raises her hand. “Let me tell him.”
Andie waves a hand in front of Liza. “Be my guest. I have nothing to hide.”
She pulls out her phone and reads from the screen. “I’m new to this town, and I’d like to set the record straight about some things. In case there is one person in this town that hasn’t heard about the requirements laid out in my grandmother’s will, I’ve included a link. Feel free to read the fine print because I plan on fulfilling everything spelled out there. I want it out in the open what my granny wants me to do.”
Andie picks up her Diet Coke and takes another swig. She shoves the can back in the sand, and her lip twitches up in an almost-smile.
Liza continues. “There’s a bunch of other stuff about clearing up misunderstandings and how the photos were taken out of context, but my favorite line is this: ‘As it says in the Gospel Matthew, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.’”
“Boom!” Mitch yells as he high-fives Mel.
Jake leans in to read Liza’s phone over her shoulder. “You go, girl. Beat them at their own game.”
“What can I say? I was in a mood.” Andie’s hand gropes for her can, but it lands on my leg instead. She sucks in a breath and snatches it away then picks up her can to drink. I already miss the contact.
“Oh no,” she whispers. I look over at her as she holds my beer in her hand instead of her Diet Coke. “I’m sorry.” She licks her lips as if she’s savoring the taste of my pale ale. Andie holds the can out to me. “You better take this before I chug it down.”
I give her a wink as I take it from her. When I take a sip, I realize her lips were in the same place only seconds earlier. A beer has never tasted better.
Griff, the Labrador retriever that lives down the street, gallops up to us and shakes, sending water all over us. Liza squeals. Mitch pulls out a stick from the firewood pile and flings it toward the lake. The dog runs after it.
“Uh-oh, you started the catch game.” Liza Jane rolls her eyes. “We won’t be able to get rid of Griff now.”
Griff comes back, dragging the stick. I take it from his mouth and toss it in the other direction. Jake offers a beer to Andie again, but she refuses. She’s actually going to abide by the rules. I’m proud of her.
“Uh... did Bruce here tell you about the time he almost lost his trigger finger?” Jake has told this story a thousand times. As embarrassing as it is, it might loosen Andie up if she knows we’ve all had our stupid drunk moments.
Mel groans, and Liza rolls her eyes. “Oh, gawd. Here they go.” She takes a swig of her beer.
Jake’s laughter makes his belly jiggle, and it’s a wonder he can even get the stupid story out of his mouth. “We had these thumb cuffs, and I was sloppy drunk.”
“Shocker there,” I whisper in Andie’s ear, making her giggle.
Jake stares at his wife. “Drunk as a skunk, if I remember it right.”
“Hey, now,” I say. “That was way before I was a cop. Anyway, he put them on my thumbs and pulled them tight.”
Griff gallops back to us, and Liza throws the stick again. He takes off after it.
I point at Jake. “Dummy here breaks the key off in the lock.”
Andie laughs. “Sounds like something I would do.”
Jake chuckles. Liza tries to cover his mouth with her hand, but he wriggles free and adds, “And before we know it, his fingers are starting to turn blue.”
“So we go to the hospital,” I interject.
Liza Jane mouths the words to the story that she could probably recite verbatim. “But now his thumbs are blue and swollen.”
I swallow my beer, thinking back to that stupid night. “And I’m thinking, there goes my career. I’ll never play guitar again.”
Andie stares at me as if there should be more to the story. Liza Jane plays an air violin with her beer and cigarette.
Mel groans. “You better be glad I was away in med school because I would have cut your thumbs off and been done with it.”
I seriously doubt that. “Dusty James comes out with the jaws of life. You know, like they use to rescue people from wrecked cars.”
Andie cringes. Her eyes ping-pong back and forth between Jake and me.
“If he touches me with those things, I know I’ll lose a thumb for sure.”
Jake punches me on the shoulder. “Finally, my boy Mitch here shows up. He’s an EMT and happened to have some bolt cutters, and in two shakes, he cuts Gun-man loose.”
Mitch stands up and takes a bow. “Thank you very much.”
Mel throws her empty Coke can at him, which he catches.
“I thought I was a goner, but I still have both my thumbs.” I hold up both hands for Andie to see.
“It’s a miracle,” Liza Jane says. “Thank you, Jesus.” Liza points at Jake and me. “This is what I have to put up with when they get together. I’ve heard that stupid-ass story about a hundred times.”
For the next few hours, we sit around the fire, boring Andie with stories we’ve told a million times before. She seems like a trouper because she laughs at the stupid stuff we did as teens.
Jake holds up his hand. “How about the time we stole Robbie the Rooster—”
“Enough.” She stares a hole through her husband. “Are you trying to run her off before she finishes her sentence here?”
“Huh?” Jake isn’t the brightest on a clear day. Get a few beers in him, and he can’t take a hint to get off a fire ant bed.
Liza Jane pulls him up and says, “Let’s take a walk.” She turns back to Andie and says, “Men are so stupid sometimes.”
Mitch’s beeper goes off, and he groans. I guess he was hoping for some quality time with Mel. “Duty calls.” He stands and dusts the sand off his jeans. “See ya.”
I mouth to Mel, “Go,” and motion with my head for her to follow him.
We have a silent pissing match, but she finally says, “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow. You can walk me back to my car.” Mel holds out her hands for Mitch to help her stand.
If I watch close enough, I would probably be able to see his heart pounding beneath his T-shirt from here. That’s the most Mel has given him in years.
Mel leans into him, and he slips an arm around her waist as they walk away.
Andie takes another sip of my beer, and this time, by the way her eyes dart around, I’m pretty sure it was deliberate. The two of us sit next to the fire. She stares off at the water in the distance and digs her toes through the sand as I poke the fire to keep it going.
“Boy, this is awkward,” she says.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it. I should have warned you about Liza. If I thought she would have dragged you here, I would have—”
“You wouldn’t have come?” She drives a stick into the fire, sending sparks flying into the dark sky.
I hold my hands out in defense. “No, that’s not what I was going to say.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” She counts on her fingers. “I suck at making jam. You don’t need to get involved with someone who’s only here for a short time. It’s obvious I’m this close to being an alcoholic because one, maybe two sips of your beer, and I’m already craving it again. And oh yea
h, there’s the little issue about all my money. I’ll probably screw that up too.”
I whistle. “Boy, howdy. Talk about having self-esteem issues.”
“Well, you’re the poster child for perfection.”
My eyebrows rise.
“Please tell me you’ve done something wrong in your life.”
She has no idea. “I’ve done plenty wrong.”
She snorts. “I’m not talking about being a bad tipper or not tithing a full ten percent.”
“Ha. Nice one.”
“You know my transgressions.”
I clear my throat. “Another time.”
She pokes me in the chest with her finger. “I’m going to let you off with a warning, mister, because right now, I’ve got to pee in the worst way.”
Thank God. Saved by a tiny bladder.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Andie
Gunnar’s grin makes his adorable dimple pop out. If my bladder weren’t about to burst, I would jump his bones right here on the beach.
“Either the lake or that rock over there is a pretty private spot.”
I survey the premises. Neither is a viable urination option to me. I’m sure I’ve peed in alleyways when I was wasted, but while sober, I would never even entertain the idea. “No thanks. I’ll hold it.”
“No one is around. The ones that are won’t remember it in the morning.”
“That’s all right. I’ll wait.” But I can’t focus on anything except the waves coming in and out and in again. I cross my legs. I swear, urine is about to explode out of my nose. If I had driven myself, I would have gone home.
“Suit yourself.”
Silence falls over us. He takes another swig of his beer. Suit yourself, my ass. He can whip it out anywhere and pee without any shame. I couldn’t do that even if I were anatomically able.
Gunnar flicks his eyes my way, and I wonder why in the hell he is not taken. He must eat live chickens or be a devil worshiper or something. He’s pretty much the total package. He should have figured out before now that I am not a total package. I’m not even close. I’m a brown cardboard box, crunched up in one corner, with no ribbon or bow, and certainly no delivery confirmation.
In a Jam Page 12