Hoedown Showdown

by Misty Simon

  I waved the certificate in the air as I danced around the gnomes in the front yard and then into the house. I sang a song of love and accomplishment and hooted and hollered. Which, of course, brought the girls out from their rooms to see what their crazy mother was up to now.

  It was a valid question, poor things.

  “I did it! I did it!”

  Veronica rolled her eyes at me. “And what is that?”

  She was my sarcastic one, but I took her in stride. She probably would have done better as Bella’s daughter. Then again, they probably would’ve killed each other by now, or at least maimed each other with their sharp tongues. I simply kissed her on the head and continued into the living room.

  “Is that your certificate?” Elizabeth asked with her hands clasped in front of her chest.

  Now this one was my too-kind-hearted, feel-everything-to-the-nth-degree child. I loved them both equally and wondered what they’d be like in the future. If nothing else, I knew they were coming from a loving and wonderful house. Ben and I were doing a good job. Attitude or tender heart, they both knew we cared about them and talked to them and, likewise, expected them to talk with us.

  “Yes, it’s my certificate, and now I’m official.”

  “Officially off your rocker.” Veronica stepped through the doorway behind me to deliver her remark.

  Of course, there was tolerance, and then there was a no-way-in-hell kind of thing that went on in the house, too.

  “I am not even in my rocker to officially be off it, thank you very much. I have accomplished a lot despite everything that has to be done around here. If you can’t be happy for me, then the least you can do is keep it to yourself.”

  Vernie went to roll her eyes again, I could see the beginnings of it, but I gave her my highly perfected Eye of Forbiddance, and she smiled at me instead, all white teeth and dimples like her dad.

  “I am ecstatic for you, Mom.” Vernie actually looked like she meant it. I’d take it.

  “Ooh, good word, sweets.”

  She preened a little, then went back to the stance from before, arms crossed, feet spread, ready to either take on the world or bash it over its head.

  “What’s up?” I could be intuitive if I tried. Maybe not to Bella’s level of almost clairvoyance (man, did her daughter hate that one), but I had some good mom mojo going on.

  “You and Dad are going to be like that old show you made us watch, aren’t you? All sleuthy and stuff.”

  “Does that bother you?” It was one of the things I had worried over. I didn’t want to put myself in danger to the point that I’d miss out on a single moment with these two, but investigating called to me. With Charlie as a full partner in the Shoppe, he only really needed me during our busy seasons, and the girls were twelve. Ben and I were partners and owned our own business, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t take a day off if I needed to for lessons or shows or whatever came up.

  “No, but you better not snoop around me or my friends.” Vernie pointed at me and tried the Eye of Forbiddance. She needed to work on that to reach my level of expertise, but I’d give her an A for effort. “It’s bad enough that everyone already knows everyone’s business. Having a P.I. for a mom is not exactly going to make me popular.”

  “You’re already popular, and you know you think this is awesome.” Ellie frowned. “You just told me the other night. So don’t mess with Mom now.” She leaned in with a smile while Vernie did roll her eyes again. I kissed them each on the nose.

  “Glad that’s all cleared up. Now I have to go call your dad and tell him the fabulous news. Thank goodness we’re breaking ground on the new office today. This is a stellar day all the way around.”

  “Stellar.”

  “Stellar.”

  Same word said at the same time. One snarky and the other sing-songy. I’ll let you figure out who had which reaction.

  ****

  “Ivy, babe, I’m in the middle of taking some awesome photos,” Ben whispered into the phone when I called him. He was on a stakeout of a couple who were trying to fake worker’s comp injuries.

  “Then why did you pick up?”

  “I thought you might need something.”

  “Call me back when you get a chance, then.”

  “Not an issue. They’re gone, and I’m all yours now,” he said in a normal voice that traveled through the phone, into my ear, and all the way down to my toes with slight shivers following after it.

  Yep, fifteen years together and this still happened. I’m thinking it was a very distinct possibility that even when those words came out of a mouth filled with dentures and surrounded by wrinkles, I’d still get that tremor. Hopefully the people in the nursing home wouldn’t mistake it for a seizure and put me on medication.

  But I digress.

  “Guess what came in the mail!”

  “My new men’s magazine? I’ve been looking forward to that, especially since it’s one of the few that hasn’t gone digital.”

  “No.” I would not get exasperated. (Great word that I would savor later, after I shared my news.)

  “Sears catalog?”

  “Do they even make those anymore?”

  “I don’t think so, but it was a good guess.”

  I was verging on that word I wasn’t going to be, and he knew it because he started laughing.

  I swore at him, which only caused him to laugh harder.

  “Let me guess, your brand, spanking, new license came in the mail. It’s the only thing that would put that quiver in your voice… Unless of course I happened to be standing there with my hands on you.”

  Gah! I did not need that image right now, with the girls standing behind me. They were firmly in the “do not kiss in front of us” stage because it was “yucky gross.” Even Ellie was not a fan.

  “Ahem, yes, well, that can be arranged later, but for now my license did come in the mail, and I am beyond excited.”

  “Ready to apologize for making fun of me all those years ago for getting mine the same way, Miss Smarty Pants?”

  “I’ll think about it once we make those arrangements.” I snickered when he groaned. “Go do your photo thing, and we’ll talk more later. I’m going to see about reservations at Jerry’s to celebrate.”

  “See you then, sweetness.”

  We hung up, and I held onto my cell phone for another minute, pressing it up against my chest like some lovelorn teenager who had just made a study date with her crush.

  Vernie cleared her throat from behind me, and I turned around to find her with a smirk on her face.

  “Jerry’s never going to let you make a reservation this late. Everyone is in town for the Harvest Hoedown, and Stanpa has that dance competition thing going on.”

  I smiled at her, using all my teeth. “That’s why you’re going to call him and beg, since you’re his biggest fan and you want your mom to be happy. I bet if you ask him for that cheesy sauce recipe, he might even give it to you this time, so you can practice it with him the next time he gives you a cooking lesson.”

  “How little you know, Mom. I already have the recipe, but I’ll call because I want to talk with him about bread.”

  “Wait,” I said, my voice breathy with disbelief. “You already have the recipe, and you haven’t made me any?” She’d been cooking with Jerry since she was ten. How long had she had this recipe?

  She raised her hand in the classic stop signal, and I traded looks with Ellie, who shrugged.

  “I didn’t know she had it, either, or I would have talked her into making it.” My sweet-as-pie daughter had a frown on her normally sunny face. I’d bet anything Vernie was going to get an earful later, when Ellie got her alone.

  “We’ll work on that later, sweetie. Right now, I need to get moving so I can check on the groundbreaking behind the Masked Shoppe. You two can stay here with Stanpa. Keep your sister in check, Ellie.”

  For all that Ellie could be sweet as Martha’s fabulous cherry pie, she also had a mischievous smile tha
t could make any momma proud.

  “Oh, I’ll do better than that,” she whispered in my ear. “I’m pretty sure you’ll have cheesy sauce when you come home, so make sure you pick up a bag of that garlic bread you like so much.” She whispered all this because with Vernie it was never a good thing to give away the game plan before it was in motion. Ellie was the dominant half of the twins, not that you’d recognize it right off the bat, but it was definitely there.

  As if on cue, Grandpa Stan, my father, more affectionately known as Stanpa, showed up at the door.

  “Better get a move on, Ivy my girl. When I was driving through town, they had some kind of earth-mover machine arcing down to make the first cut on the bit of land behind the shop. You don’t want to miss all the excitement of digging up the earthworms.”

  Now I was the one rolling my eyes. At least Vernie came by it honestly.

  “Okay, I should be back in about an hour. Ben might be home before me, so he can take over if you have something going on.”

  “Nope, nothing at the moment. All the dancers are in and registered, Jerry’s catering is set up, and we go on in a few hours.”

  Crap, I’d forgotten that Jerry’s restaurant was closed tonight to host the beginning of the showcase. Maybe I could wheedle an invitation. Even though it wouldn't be my normal personal service, it would still be Jerry’s food, and that wasn’t something to look sideways at.

  “You can’t have a reservation, Mom,” Vernie said with just a little bit of glee, like she’d gotten me.

  “Right. I forgot, honey. That’s because we’re going to the dinner he’s having at Stanpa’s studio.” Her face fell like I’d taken the wind out of her sails. She was a good kid, just trying to find her boundaries, and I was most certainly not afraid of giving as good as she could take.

  “Do I have to dress up?”

  “Oh, can we dress up?” Ellie said. “Please?”

  Stan looked at me, and I looked back. “Did you need them to help out with serving and that kind of thing?”

  “Nope, this is a night for everyone to enjoy. Your sisters are coming in, too, with their families. I have the whole place set up already. They could dance up on the stage if they wanted to, I guess. Or even around the diners while the meal is taking place. I’m up to whatever they want to do.”

  I left them on that note and arguing about whether or not they’d recreate the interpretative dance Stan kept trying to teach them.

  Since the Masked Shoppe was only a little ways down from the house, I walked. The sun was shining, the smell of fall brisk in the air. Several people were out raking leaves, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was Cissy Greenwood using her shop vac to suck up leaves, instead. Smart girl, that Cissy.

  I swung my arms and whistled a little under my breath. I was not an awesome whistler, but I could carry a tune, sort of. Regardless, I was whistling because I was now official. If only we had a big case to solve so that my first would be a bang!

  Then again, I had no need for another dead body. Besides, that might be a little too big for my first one. After the tomato judge thing several years ago, we’d had relative quiet. Yeah, occasionally there was a domestic dispute, and there had been that one sting operation where Bertrand Jessup had thought it would be a good idea to start up a brothel. He’d called it Play Peter Play which, yes, had alliteration, but was, um, wrong and illegal here in Martha’s Point, Virginia.

  Anyway, I wanted something with meat to prove my mettle, but not something too big, so big that I felt like a failure right out the door, you know?

  Regardless of what I wanted, I had stuff to do and an office to oversee the digging for. Walking through the Shoppe, I said good morning to Charlie, my full-on partner now. We’d made it official about three years ago when I realized I was serious about this license thing and wanted to keep the Shoppe but not be responsible for it at all times. Charlie ran it often enough anyway that it made sense to allow him to take some of the burden of making sure it stayed open, along with the financial risk. His wife, Debbie, had not been too happy with him at first, but I wasn’t the only one to make sure I had a backbone when dealing with my spouse. Go Charlie!

  “How’re things?”

  “Hopping,” Charlie said while helping a customer find the right feather boa for her flapper dress. I’d been a flapper for the Harvest Ball all those years ago when I first moved here, and I didn’t think I’d ever be one again. I’d almost been killed, and instead one of my new friends had been the victim. I shook off the thought because the costume was a good one and Kitty was very much in jail, away from me and this town that she’d thought she’d run.

  “Need help?” I still owned fifty-three percent of the place, and the Masked Shoppe had brought me out here all those years ago. It was my baby, just one I shared custody of with Charlie.

  “I know you’re desperate to get out to the site, so go. But maybe when you’re done watching them dig up ant hills, you could come back and lend a hand? I have a party coming in an hour from now, and I want to make sure we can get them measured and fitted asap.”

  Saluting him, I headed out back. A party, five days before the Hoedown. What on earth were people thinking? They’d have to make do with whatever we had on hand since there was no way I could custom order anything to have it here in time. Then again, I did have that one place… Well, first we’d have to see what they were looking for and go from there.

  I stepped out to the smell of moving earth and fall. I had a moment’s hesitation, wondering if I was doing the right thing. This beautifully manicured lawn and flowers had been here for years, a gift to Great-Aunt Gertie, provider of my inheritance, from an admirer. Or at least that’s what I had been able to glean (fantastic word!) from various conversations. And I was tearing it up.

  But I’d also already planned out the new garden we’d put in around the base of the building and the back veranda we were building on. I’d say that made up for it.

  By the time I stepped out the back door, they were already digging in for the foundation. The office would be good-sized. I was trying to convince Officer Jared to join us officially as P.I. Jared, and we needed a conference room along with offices. Ben and I had agreed to call ourselves Impeccable Investigations—you know, to go with the alliteration of most of the other businesses in town. I’d been dinged for the Shoppe’s name, but it was grandfathered in as okay since it had belonged to Great-Aunt Gertie. I had tried to make our agency Ivy’s Impeccable Investigations, of course. That idea had been nixed, but I was sure I’d always think of it as that no matter what Ben or Jared said. Probably Bella would have something to say about that, too. She was currently lobbying to be the Girl Friday, so she could give up getting hair splinters stuck under her fingernails. She had two wonderful new beauty school graduates working for her. The possibilities were endless.

  At that moment, the big bucket thing on the earth mover swung down and dug into the earth. It came up with a scoop of dirt and a…

  Body?!?!? Holy shit!

  A body. A long-dead body, I assumed, since it was really more like a bunch of dry skin and bones barely held together in a cheap suit. But still a body. In my freaking back yard. What the hell?

  My cell phone was in my hand before I could think, and I hit the speed dial for my beloved.

  It looked like Ivy’s Impeccable Investigations was off to a stellar start.

  A word about the author…

  Misty Simon loves a good story and decided one day that she would try her hand at it. Eventually she got it right. There’s nothing better in the world than making someone laugh, and she hopes everyone at least snickers in the right places when reading her books.

  She lives with her husband, daughter, and three insane dogs in Central Pennsylvania, where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers, so drop her a line at:

  misty@mistysimon.com www.mistysimon.com

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