He shrugged. “He was in his lane.”
They arrived at her house, Charley recognizing the lifted Ford pickup. He shut off the engine. “Okay, you can let go now.” She complied. “Get off.”
Michelle dismounted and wiped her windblown hair. Her cheeks were bright red from the cool wind, her brown eyes afire. “That was terrifying. But somehow cool.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for the ride.”
He shook it, cool and thin fingers. “Sure.”
“And I—I get it now. No texting.”
“Good.” He fired up the engine. “And thank your husband for not punching me out.”
Kentucky
We visited Reba’s Bites Candy in Frankfort, Kentucky, and saw firsthand how candy could be made in a remodeled house, gaining national attention. We got to sample Bourbon Balls, which tasted sweet, laced with warm and smooth whiskey. While I’m a teetotaler, I understood how people could appreciate good bourbon. The history of Reba’s and Bourbon Balls are based on reality; most everything else is fiction.
CANDY COURAGE
“Ben, do you see this sign?”
Well, duh, how could I miss it? In big plastic letters it announced, ‘Reba’s Bites Candy.’
“It gets dusted every day.” Jolene, my new boss, turned and marched, with me in her wake, to the back of the store, stopping at a door.
“This is your territory,” she said, as if she were handing me the deed to fifty acres. Only it looked to be a former bedroom, littered with brooms, mop buckets, sprayers, and rags.
She must be forty, her dark hair going to gray, tied back in a ponytail. Being a single mom, it showed in the lines on her face, particularly the frown lines. “If you need anything, run out of something, just let me know. I’m here all the time.” I nodded. “You clean at home, don’t you?” I couldn’t answer. Did she mean I’m the housekeeper, or I help my mom, or my room? “Well, you do, right? You help around the house.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I nodded like an idiot. Just answer her questions. “Uh, huh. Mopping, dusting, things like that, right?”
She looked down her nose at me. “This is just like a home. Like your home. It’s a remodeled house, but we’ve made it feel like you’re coming inside our home.” She headed to the front. Do I grab a mop, or? I decided to follow and trotted to catch up to her. As we entered the ‘living area’ where the gift shop resided, I did a double take. “Whoa.” Behind the candy counter stood a dark-haired beauty with red tips, clear skin and brown eyes.
Jolene turned and looked first at me and then at the source of my affection. The frown lines deepened. “That’s Leah. My daughter. Come.” We retreated into the hallway, where Jolene stopped and whirled, her finger in my face. “Off limits, boy. You’re here to work, and I won’t have any dating situation messing things up, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded, aggressively, and I knew she meant business. We returned to the gift shop. I followed Jolene and—careful to make sure she didn’t see me—took a good look at Leah. As she chatted with a customer, a lock of dark hair fell over her eyes. She slid it aside with a slender finger that bore a red nail. The customer laughed. I knew I would laugh.
Jolene spun and got to business. “Every morning this area needs to be mopped before we open. At noon and midafternoon you sweep.” She continued with cleaning the glass candy cases, the windows, the doors and handles—there’s no second chance at a first impression—blah blah blah. I kept stealing glimpses of Leah, seemingly the epitome of grace and goodness. The old lady caught me once and snapped her fingers. “Remember. Off limits.” We’ll see about that.
After Stacy broke up with me, I decided to raise the bar from psycho fighter with sharp tongue and fingernails to... something like Leah.
“Whenever you run out of things to do, you come behind the counter and help Ashley restock,” Jolene said to the back of a girl behind the counter. The girl must have been Ashley. Blond hair, straight, plain, skinny, looking like she’d just heard her dog got killed.
“Is she your daughter, too?”
“No relation. Leave her alone, too. Keep your love life away from work.”
“No problem.” Ashley looked too much like psycho Stacey.
Jolene spent a couple hours with me, showing me every job, but making it clear that if anyone needed anything cleaned up for any reason, I would hop right to it. Being my first real job, I was ready to hop. And if Leah needed anything, I’d really hop.
We retired to Jolene’s office, another bedroom in the back, jammed with ninety years of file cabinets, a printer, copier, piles of paper, and a desk covered with letters, bills, and sticky notes. She sat in a tired swivel chair and indicated for me to do the same, except in a metal folding chair.
She opened a file and removed a thick pile of papers, held together with a big black clamp. “Read the policy, fill out everything, and return this tomorrow.” She removed a black and white brochure with a woman on a horse, looking like the old West. “Read this, it gives you the history of Reba’s Bites Candy. Do you have any questions?”
How old is Leah? Is she dating anyone? What kind of flowers does she like? “No, ma’am.” I took the paperwork and reclamped the brochure in its place.
“Be here at seven-thirty. I’ll let you in.”
I’m eighteen and responsible. Can’t you just give me a key? “Yes, ma’am.”
~
I googled Leah Davis and came up with dozens, but couldn’t be sure if any were her. Searched Facebook. No sweat. ‘Leah Davis. Works at Reba’s Bites. Studies at Frankfort High School.’ A senior. No wonder she only works part time. ‘Friends 374. Likes 84.’
The pictures included Leah at a party, looked like her birthday. Posing with four friends, a half a dozen selfies, some solo, some with girlfriends. A photo of The Incredible Hulk, Taylor Swift. She used a selfie for a profile picture, so close that only one eye showed, covered with plenty of black mascara, her perfect teeth and skin, the tips of her hair dyed red. No boyfriends—cool.
I opened the ‘Likes.’ Books—historical, fiction, romance. Games—dominoes, Rummikub, pinochle. Activities—writing, walking, petting my cat, quilting.
“Gotta love Facebook,” I clicked on every icon, seeing more of Leah Davis.
“Time to get to know you better, Leah.” I searched through Google images until I found a good-looking guy. Built a Facebook person, Jim Bond, Kentucky State freshman, likes walking and Rummikub—don’t copy everything, too obvious—loves football, action movies. It took a few hours, but I built a pretty desirable guy. Sent the Friend Request.
~
I mopped the concrete floor in the factory. You can’t sweep, or the dust gets in the candy, and wouldn’t that be awful? Almost done, I heard Leah’s voice. She stopped in the adjacent room with a tour group following, a gaggle of old ladies and men following her to where they cooked the candy and mixed it.
“This copper pot and burner are still used regularly and are over ninety-years-old.” I stopped mopping and listened. Her voice sounded like a waterfall, light and sweet. The retirees listened and asked questions. Next the group moved to our area, so I mopped the same spot to hear her voice. She talked about the mixes, then someone asked about Bourbon Balls.
“We’re famous for our Bourbon Balls. Reba Haney attended a gala, where a congressman complimented her on her tasty candy. He indicated that they enjoyed taking a sip of bourbon and chasing it with a bite of chocolate. Reba went home and experimented. Voila! Bourbon balls.”
“Can a person get drunk on them?” an old lady asked.
“It takes a couple pounds to get you drunk. Easier just to drink and eat a few Dark Chocolate Cremes.” Everyone laughed. I knew I would laugh.
The group moved onward, and ignoring the desire to mop behind and listen to Leah’s melodious voice, I returned to the mop and bucket. Ashley came and demanded I help her restock shelves.
~
Crash! A kid knocked a jar of
Bourbon syrup onto the floor. I worked nearby and stopped dusting a shelf of Kentucky trinkets and hustled over. Mom and kid stood staring at the mess. Leah had stepped in to their aid. I trotted back to get the mop and bucket. Returning, I saw Mom and kid leaving in humiliation and Leah bent over, picking up shards of glass.
“Here, let me get that.” I bent down as close beside her as possible and picked up pieces, sticky with syrup goo. Leah had piled them up and now picked them carefully to dump in the bucket. If she needed help licking the syrup off her fingers, I was her man. She smelled of jasmine, and those slender fingers with bright red fingernail polish worked efficiently, moving glass out of the way.
“You need to get some hot water,” she said and her blue eyes looked into mine. I will get you anything you want.
“Okay.” I stood.
“Get some paper towels, too. It’s best to wipe it up dry first.”
“Sure.” I ran to the room and got what we—hopefully we—needed. I didn’t want to finish this job alone. And the moment we finished, I would ask her out.
When I returned, she’d finished with the glass and had pushed the goo to the middle with a napkin. “I got it,” I said in my best superhero voice. Wow, that sounded idiotic.
The bell tinkled at the front door and she stood, wiping her hands on her apron. She turned to the counter. “Ashley, can you help clean this up?”
Dang. I finished the job with the psycho lookalike, relishing the smell of jasmine.
~
That evening I read the brochure of Reba’s Bites and the life of Reba Haney. She started in 1910, a single woman, and built the business in a man’s world. Suffered through the Great Depression, kept working at recipes and improving her product, then her house and business both burned to the ground in a fire, leaving only the marble slab that we still used in the factory. I cleaned it twice already. She borrowed money from a fellow believer to start over because the banks wouldn’t touch her.
I set the brochure down and sighed. That woman had courage. And I couldn’t even work up the nerve to ask Leah out. Sure, Reba overcame a lot of adversity, but she didn’t have to overcome Jolene Davis.
I logged on to Facebook. Leah had accepted my friend request. I tried messaging her.
‘leah, u there’
‘hi jim bond’
Now what do I say? I rejected three different stupid things when she wrote again.
‘any relation to james bond’
Duh! I never thought of that.
‘not a secret agent’
‘2 bad’
Dang. I should have told her I worked for the CIA. No, that wouldn’t work. They never tell. Too late anyway.
‘im goin 2 K state next year how do u lik it’
That would have been cool if I actually went to Kentucky State.
‘prety good. Lotsa partyin’
‘my mom’d kill me’
She was right, Jolene probably would.
Jim Bond, James Bond, brilliant.
~
I squirted window cleaner on the front window and slathered the mess around in circles. Jolene had yelled at me for leaving streaks, so I worked it. Although wintertime, the sun shone through the glass and dried the cleaner. Someone sang about a Tequila Sunrise over the radio, another ambiance enhancer. I tried changing the station yesterday, maybe get some Lady Gaga or something and Jolene railed about that.
‘Take another shot of courage...’ the band sang. I could use a shot of courage. If I could just work up the nerve, I could talk to Leah, I knew it. I already knew her, thanks to Facebook. She called her cat Twinkles. She hated mornings, and tests were coming up. When I worked up the nerve, we could talk…
“What are you doing?” Jolene demanded.
I jumped, hadn’t heard her. “Uh, the window.”
“You can’t do it in the sunshine. No wonder it streaked. Do the back windows and come back in a few hours.” She spun and headed for the counter. Man, every time she spoke to me I felt like a fool. And I want to date her daughter? I’ll win her over. Just takes a little time. And a shot of courage. Maybe a few shots.
~
“Can you get drunk on them?”
“It takes a couple pounds to get you drunk. Easier just to drink and eat a few Dark Chocolate Cremes.” Everyone from the tour laughed. I almost laughed, not at the answer, but that Leah said the same thing every time. I could do a tour!
“Kid, get busy.” Vick, the old guy stood in front of me. “I need that kettle. Come on.”
Leah looked our way and smiled, but like ‘the clown was funny’ smile. Not good.
Here I’m trying to impress her and looking like an idiot. I got to scrubbing and brooded. How could I talk to her with so many setbacks? I needed a shot of courage. I stopped scrubbing, the inspiration hitting me like a lightning bolt. Bourbon Balls. If I ate enough of them, I could get loosened up at bit and break into conversation with Leah, then ask her out.
I finished the copper kettle, then wandered along the line and watched the little candies moving along the belt, getting chocolate bottoms, then a chocolate shower. At the end, two women stuck them into boxes.
There was no way I could snatch Bourbon Balls off the line, but what if I took some of the mix? No, it wasn’t cooked. Doesn’t it have eggs in it and you’d get botulism or something? And for that matter, the bourbon hadn’t been added yet. It looked like the best option would be for a box or two to disappear.
Grabbing the mop, I swiped at dirt in the back of the factory. There. An old wooden box of shelves stood at the wall with room behind it. I mopped my way over and checked it out, trying not to attract attention to myself. Just snatch a box from the stockpile, drop it behind the shelving and graze on the candy for a few hours. By quitting time, I could make my move.
No use waiting, I mopped my way to the stacks of white boxes and slipped one under my shirt. Easy. I worked my way to the shelf and just like that, one box, one pound, hidden behind it. Tomorrow, I’ll snatch another one.
“Ben!” Jolene’s yelling snapped me out of my reverie. “What are you doing?”
I hate stupid questions. Obviously, if she paid attention, she’d see me mopping. Catching two or three smart aleck answers, I didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Well?”
“Uh, mopping, ma’am.”
“I can see that.” Then why did you ask? “Get up front and give Ashley a hand restocking the front.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Man! If Leah was going to be tough, Jolene would be impossible. No satisfying her. I’ll win Leah’s attentions first. One person at a time.
~
Today would be the Big Day. As soon as Jolene let me in I hustled to the back and stashed another box of chocolates. After lunch, in which I would eat chocolates, not lunch, I would sneak back and graze on the other box of candy. By quitting time I’d be ready. Ask Leah out. A movie. Pick her up at her place, drive to the theater, get some popcorn... thanks to this job, I could pay for it all. Vick wanted me to help clean a machine, going to switch batches or something. Perfect.
Because we stayed open through lunch, we ate in shifts, me on the second shift and never with Leah. Probably Jolene, keeper of the gate, making sure her precious kid didn’t attach herself to the riff raff. We’ll see about that.
“Hey, Ben, it’s time for lunch,” Ashley said. She reminded me so much of psycho Stacy it scared me. Blond, self-absorbed, and not too bright.
“I’ll be right there.” I ran to the back of the factory and grabbed the box of Bourbon Balls, opened them, and dumped them in my lunch sack. Tossed the box behind the shelves. Brought it to the back room and stopped in the doorway. Leah sat at the table, finishing off a banana. An apple core lay on her plate, and what looked like a peach pit. Wow, a nice person, beautiful, and she ate fruit. I should say something clever, but my mouth froze shut. Leah picked up her things and threw them in the trash. I sat in her chair, still warm.
Ashl
ey came in, ate and texted. Fine with me. I popped a Bourbon Ball in my mouth. Milk chocolate, smooth with a heavy alcohol taste, giving it a bit of a burn. And a praline nut, bonus. The taste surprised me. Delicious. I get to enjoy getting loosened up, nice.
“Guys are such jerks.” Ashley mashed the keys on her phone.
“Yeah?” I managed around a mush of candy.
“Donny Brewer. I thought he’d be cool. But no, Sarah saw him with Brittany. Then he goes, ‘Well, you hooked up with Tyler.’ Whatever. Now he’s making excuses.” She punched the keys. “I will make his life a living hell. Putting it on Facebook,” she smiled wickedly. Thoughts of Stacy rattled through my mind as she put our dirty laundry on social network, too. I popped another candy.
“Sucks for you.”
“You know it.” Punch punch.
I finished lunch and tossed the sack in the trash. Was I making it up, or feeling a bit lightheaded? I should have kept the sack, filled it with the second box, and stashed it in the lunch room. No problem, I’d just go back and grab four at a time and wolf them down.
On the third trip back, Vick stopped me. “What’re you doing?”
“Hey, Vick, how are ya?” I patted him on the shoulder. Nice guy.
“Well?”
“Well what, buddy?”
“What’re you doing?”
“Oh... I’m ah, getting the mop. Forgot it, buddy. Just... going to get it.”
“Get it and get out of here.”
“Yeah, sure, Vick buddy.” I patted him on the back; nice guy, that Vick. Vickeroo. Vickster. The Vickiest. I laughed at my humor. But ain’t he snippy? I decided to make this the last trip and finish off the delicious Bourbon Balls. Opened the box and stuffed two in my mouth, held two, and stuck the rest in my pocket. Walked back and munched one, waved to Vick who gave me dagger eyes. “Easy, man. Just going to the front now. You have a nice day, hear?” Vick just glared. Sometimes people need to lighten up.
I decided to clean the lunch room, remembering that Jolene told me to do it this morning. Humming, I walked past Leah and gave her a big smile. She smiled back, but looked concerned. “Take it easy, Leah,” I waved.
In the lunch room I threw some trash away and opened the microwave to a food spattered disaster inside. Sat down and enjoyed another candy. Got the rag and cleanser. Shot the microwave with the spray bottle... more... it was pretty messy. Wiped the goop. Popped another candy. Whew, dizzy. Sat for a bit and finished the candy. Jolene walked through and gave me the stink eye.
50 Stories in 50 States: Tales Inspired by a Motorcycle Journey Across the USA Vol 2, The East Page 6
