In a Jam

by Cindy Dorminy

  With eyes trained on the floor, I sulk into the coffee shop and sit down on a barstool.

  Andie comes out from the back and freezes when she sees me. She gives me a half-smile then pours me a glass of sweet tea.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice soft and tentative.

  I motion with my head but find the newspaper someone left on the counter more interesting. I immerse myself into the front-page article, not giving a hoot about what the school board voted on for next year.

  “I’m glad you stopped by. Things got a little... crowded this morning.”

  I focus on the article.

  She clears her throat. “Are you okay?”

  When I don’t answer, she uses a finger to pull the newspaper away from my face so I have to make eye contact with her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I was hoping you’d stop by this morning, and when you didn’t—”

  “I’m busy. That’s all. Keeping things safe in this dried-up, podunk town.”

  She takes a step back. “Huh?”

  My eyes bore holes into hers. “Nothing.”

  She turns to Mrs. Cavanaugh but still speaks to me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t normally have this tone.”

  I fold up the newspaper and slide it away from me. With a chuckle, I say, “So you know me a few weeks, and you think you really know me. Right?”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “Did I do something wrong this morning? I’m sorry I came back to get my phone. I wish I hadn’t because I don’t want to get in the middle of things.”

  She thinks this is about Willow. I stand, chug down the last of my iced tea, pull out a few dollars, and slam them onto the counter. “Add that to your coffers.”

  “What?”

  I turn to leave. “As if you don’t know.”

  The Jacksons stop mid-bite to listen. I don’t give a damn if it shows up in their next blog or not.

  Andie runs around the counter and grabs my arm. “Really, I don’t.”

  I snatch my arm from her grip. Her eyes pool with tears. Too bad. She’s brought this on herself.

  She snaps her head around toward Mrs. Cavanaugh. “What did I do?”

  “I ain’t gettin’ involved.” But that sneer tells me I’ve overstepped my bounds.

  “Smart woman. Good day, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

  When I stomp back to the fitness center, I brave a glimpse at Andie standing in the doorway of her shop, wiping tears off her face. Way to go, idiot. I let Willow drive a wedge between Andie and me. The cop in me should have gotten her side of the story, but the man who has been hurt before overtook my brain.

  IF SHE LEFT HER DOOR open on purpose, I’m going to be pissed. I peek into the dark coffee shop. It appears to be fine. The cash register door is open, showing the drawer is empty, a clear indicator Andie went to the bank earlier tonight. No tables are overturned; nothing is out of the ordinary. If I don’t investigate and something really did happen, I would never forgive myself, so I tiptoe toward the steps.

  “Andie, are you up there?”

  The door to Andie’s apartment opens, and she gasps. “Gunnar, what are you doing here?”

  I jerk my thumb toward the front door. “You left your door open... again.”

  She descends the steps and flips on a light. “You’re kidding.”

  I put my hands on my hips. I’m not buying her naive act. I’ve had too many years with Willow to know bullshit when I see it.

  “Did you do that on purpose?”

  She cringes. “Guilty.”

  I groan and head toward the front door.

  She grabs my arm. “Wait. Don’t leave. As long as you’re here, we need to talk.”

  She takes my hand, and I yank it away.

  “You’re already here. Come on.”

  “Make it quick.”

  Andie leads me upstairs, like a calf to the slaughter. She plops me down on the couch and kneels on the floor by my feet.

  “What?”

  “What?” she mimics.

  “What?”

  Andie grins.

  I stare at her with no expression. The faster I can get out of here, the better.

  “What is wrong? Please tell me what I did wrong. I thought a lot about it, and I don’t care what Willow said. The fact that you cheated is really none of my business, anyway.”

  “So you met with the developers today, right?” I motion with my head to the corner of the room, where the rolls of blueprints rest in the corner.

  “Oh. That.”

  My jaw drops. “Yeah... that.”

  She sits next to me on the couch. I move as far away from her as I can.

  “I never kept that a secret from you. You always knew that was a possibility. I have fulfilled every part of my grandmother’s will. I can sell if I want to. But let me explain.”

  I stand. Sitting next to her fogs my brain. I walk into her kitchenette. She has the photos from the county fair on the refrigerator, secured with a Georgia peach magnet. That seems like ages ago, but I have relived that night a thousand times in my mind.

  “I know. I only thought that...”

  She stands next to me and touches my arm. “Thought what? That since we—”

  She backs away and bumps into the counter. I turn to sneer at her. She stumbles out of the kitchen and into the living room. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth drops. “No. Please, no.”

  “No, what?”

  She covers her face with her hands. “Please tell me you didn’t... we didn’t... you weren’t trying to... what Willow said.” She collapses onto the couch and buries her head against her knees. “Oh God, no.”

  I walk toward her. Even though I’m angry, if something is going on I don’t know about, I want to know if there’s anything I can do.

  She stares up at me, her eyes pooling with tears. “Did you use me?”

  I freeze. “Are you kidding me? For all I know, you used me. You know, get in good with the cop so he wouldn’t rat you out.”

  I’ve hit a nerve because she bolts off the couch and stomps toward me. She pokes me in the chest. “I don’t need your protection.”

  And I don’t need this. I walk away from her but yell over my shoulder, “You don’t need anyone, do you, little rich girl? You don’t need anything or anyone, and you sure as hell don’t need me.”

  I take two steps down the stairs, and she’s right behind me. “You’re mad that I won’t give all that money away to your... your Podunk town. Isn’t that right?”

  I stand at the bottom of the steps. “That’s not it.”

  “Sure it is. You used me to get the money, but it didn’t work. I know about the mayor.”

  I turn to face her. She’s on a step above me, so we are almost nose to nose, and I guess by my expression, she senses there was some truth to the rumor.

  “I don’t give a damn about your money.” She takes one step up on the stairs, and so do I. “What I do care about is this town was great at one time, and little by little, it’s changing because big corporations come in and take over. There’s hardly any small businesses anymore. It’s unethical to make lots of money by making everyone around you poor.”

  She stumbles on the top step and splats down on her butt. I hover over her and get real close to her ear so she won’t miss anything I have to say. Her eyes are huge, and her chest rises and falls with every heavy breath.

  “When you sell, this entire downtown will fold. There won’t be anyone left.”

  “I didn’t know—”

  “Just stop it.” I straighten up so she now has to crane her neck to see me. “But remember this. You had a chance at a family. This entire town welcomed you like you’d lived here your entire life. You snubbed it. You snubbed us all.” I lean back down and whisper, “But you’ll have all that money and maybe a bottle of booze too. Maybe all that will keep that cold heart of yours warm at night.”

  I stiffen my back and walk down the steps. “Good night, Miss Carson.”

 
; Before I storm out of her store, I hear her sobs from the stairwell. I don’t really care, but that doesn’t keep me from feeling like a total jackass.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Andie

  My pillowcase is soaked with all the tears I shed last night. I never thought I could create that many tears. My eyes are almost swollen shut from the puffiness. If it weren’t for Mrs. Cavanaugh downstairs tending to customers, I would have had to close shop today. I sit on the floor with my back resting against the couch, flipping through my grandmother’s scrapbooks and hoping some sort of solace will fall out of the worn pages. Three empty tissue boxes rest beside me, and snot rags litter the floor. A picture of me when I was little falls out, and I pick it up off the floor. On the back, in faint blue pen, someone wrote, “Andie, age six.” I vaguely remember that day. It might have been the last time Mom brought me down here to see my granny. I guess I’ll never know what happened between them.

  But I feel so close to my grandmother here. It’s almost as if she’s still alive. The scent of brown sugar always seemed to float all around her. I close my eyes and see her putzing around her kitchen, me right on her heels. I wish Mom had let me spend more time with her. All I have left of her are a few sparse belongings and this shop.

  A knock on the apartment door jolts me back to reality. Maybe it’s Gunnar. Maybe he had a fitful night too and wants to talk, really talk this time.

  “Andie, can I come in?” Liza Jane asks, and my hopes fade.

  “I don’t feel very well.” My voice cracks. “Maybe later.”

  “Honey, please let me in.”

  I let out a big sigh and unlock the door. Liza puts down a cooler and holds out her arms. I fall into them, which starts another wave of tears.

  “Come on, honey. We need to have some girl talk.” Liza lets me cry until I can’t produce any more tears. She holds a beer out to me, but I wave it off.

  I sip from my water bottle, trying to replenish the fluids I’ve lost. “I had him figured for a really nice guy.”

  She touches my arm. “He is.”

  “It’s always been about the money. Even our...”

  “No. That’s not true. I don’t believe that for one second. I don’t care what it seems like. It’s not his way. He really cares about you.”

  I wipe my nose on the hem of my T-shirt. “He didn’t give me a chance to explain. I was having second thoughts about selling, but maybe I should. The developers weren’t happy with me putting them off but said they’d call me in a few days.” More tears pour out. “He was downright mean last night.”

  Liza hands me a fresh box of tissues and hugs me for the umpteenth time, never judging me, always treating me like the sister and friend I need. “Do you care about him?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Liza giggles. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I sit upright and wipe my nose again.

  “Well... do you?”

  I nod. “I love him, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “What did he say when you told him?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and more tears escape.

  “Oh, Lord have mercy. You haven’t told him? Sweetheart, I don’t know how you do it in Boston, but down here, the boys are so dense, you have to knock them upside the head to make sure they know how you feel.”

  I almost grin at that.

  She bumps me on the shoulder with hers. “That’s probably why he hasn’t told you how he feels about you.”

  “You don’t know that, and right now, I’m so mad at him, I don’t care.”

  “Oh, honey, I know. I know Gunnar better than he knows himself. He is In. Love. With. You.”

  I wipe another tear away. “He accused me of single-handedly letting the town fall apart if I sell. I didn’t know how bad it had gotten.” Sniff, sniff.

  She nods. “Yeah, we’re barely keeping our heads above water, but that’s not your fault. Trust me. He loves you. He’s just being an ass right now.”

  I blow out a raspberry. “How can he love me when even I don’t love me?”

  Liza lights up a cigarette and puffs away from me. “None of us are worthy of the people that love us. Hell, as much as I tease Jake, he’s a saint for putting up with my shit. I’d be lost without him. Tell me this. When you wake up in Gunnar’s arms, do you feel like running, or do you feel like staying?”

  Every time I’ve slept with Gunnar, I’ve prayed the night would never end. I fit in the crook of his arm as if I were tailor-made for that very place. I love waking up to find him with a content expression on his face. I’ll never find that with anyone else, no matter where I go.

  I know the answer but can’t make my mouth say the words. I chance a glance up at Liza Jane, and she cocks an eyebrow.

  “That’s what I thought.” She chucks her cigarette butt inside her beer can then gathers all the tissues and bottles up and tosses them in the trash can. “Don’t make a rash decision based on this one misunderstanding. I’m sure that’s all it is. Do you want me to beat some sense into him?”

  I shake my head, causing my snot-filled sinuses to explode with pain. “Oh no. Please don’t.”

  She pouts. “I won’t, but if he comes to me, I won’t hold back.”

  We sit in silence. She sips on a beer, and I blow my nose for the twentieth time. Finally, I have the nerve to ask. “What about Willow?”

  She mimics sticking a finger down her throat. “Don’t make me lose my breakfast.”

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “You are terrible.”

  Liza giggles. “I tell it like I see it.”

  “But if he’s not interested, he sure has a funny way of showing it. He seems to jump every time she snaps her fingers.”

  Liza rolls her eyes. “She knows how to play him, but trust me, he’s not interested. She’s only here to stir up trouble, and when she realizes it’s not working, she’ll start sniffing around somebody else, hopefully back in Chicago so we don’t smell her stench down here.”

  I stand and give Liza a big hug. I love her like the sister I never had. “And you see me as one huge mess, don’t you?”

  “Girl, I see you as flawed, like the rest of us. But what I really see is someone who is madly in love with one of my best friends, and that makes me really happy. You deserve each other, so please, don’t do anything in haste.”

  I kiss her cheek. “I promise. Thank you so much.”

  “That’s what sisters do. Talk to him, okay? Don’t let this fester.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I wrap my arms around her neck and cry some more. “Thank you. I needed to hear that. I don’t have any family, and for you to say that to me...”

  “Girl, what are you talking about? You have a huge family here. We all love you. Even the Jacksons.”

  We both get a giggle out of that.

  She points at me. “Now, missy, you take a long, hot bubble bath, put an ice pack on those puffy eyes, and get down there to help Mrs. C. because it’s packed.”

  My eyes widen. “Really?”

  “Yep. People love your jam.”

  I bet they do, and I love them.

  My phone buzzes. It’s Tinsley. “I need to take this.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll show myself out.” Liza picks up her empty cooler and scoots down the stairs.

  I take one more sniffle before I answer the phone. “Hey, Tinsley.”

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Okay.”

  “Hmm.” He’s not usually so lost for words.

  I collect my used tissues and toss them into a trash can in the kitchen. “It’s been a bad day. That’s all.”

  “Bad as in...”

  “No, not that kind of bad. I’m completely sober, unfortunately. It’s... I don’t know what to do.”

  “About what? The money? ‘Cause I got a kid that’s gonna need college in about ten years. Just saying.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind. I don’t want to leave, but...” My voic
e quivers. “Things didn’t work out like I thought they would.”

  “With a certain George Clooney with a twang.”

  I roll my eyes, and if he wasn’t dead-on correct, I would come back with a snarky remark. The pictures of Gunnar and me on my refrigerator catch my eye. “Maybe.”

  “I’m sorry about that, kiddo. You’re a great person. Don’t let anyone tell you different. You hear me?”

  “I hear ya.” I pluck the pictures off the refrigerator and toss them into a drawer.

  “Here goes nothing. I’m no romantic, but sometimes people are afraid to show how they really feel. And us guys are the worst about feelings and stuff like that. So don’t give up on him. I think he’s a fine guy.”

  “Tins, you’ve never even met him.”

  “No, but I got spidey senses, and my superpowers say he’s one of the good ones. You deserve to be happy.”

  The bells over the door downstairs ring, reminding me I need to tend to customers. “I need to go, but thanks for the pep talk. I’ll see you soon.”

  As I descend the stairs, I do a quick evaluation of my life. I have a business and friends and a place to call home, but I may need to give it all up because Gunnar had them before I did.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Gunnar

  Here I am again, sitting in the hardware store, waiting on some divine intervention from my best friend. I hate having these feelings. It’s so much easier being closed off to everyone. It’s even easier to be the “one and done” guy because there’s never any emotional attachment. This thing I feel for Andie is physical, emotional, with even some spiritual feelings all rolled into one messy ball.

  Jake mixes a can of paint, while I sit on the counter, flipping through the color-swatch cards. He takes the can out of the mixer, opens the lid, dabs his finger into the paint, swipes some paint onto the lid, then hammers the lid closed with a mallet.

  “I can’t believe she accused me of sleeping with her so she wouldn’t sell.”

  Jake raises a shoulder and cringes. “You did tell me what the mayor said.”

  “But that never entered my mind when we were, uh, when I... I’m not the kind of person who does stuff like that anymore. She’s too...”