[Blueberry Springs 01.0] Whiskey and Gumdrops

by Jean Oram

  Frankie tilted his head, a big grin spreading, making his eyes twinkle in delight. Lord as her witness, her heart did a little hop, skip and a jump, along with a hip-hip-hooray at the sight of that smile. What was he doing to her? Friends shouldn’t be that delighted to see a twinkling smile. And they certainly shouldn’t be letting their mind wander down avenues usually reserved for lovers.

  “My conditions, huh?” Frankie rubbed his hands together and she had a moment of heart failure. Oh, no. What had she just walked into? He winked and started his engine. “This should be fun.”

  “Frankie. Within reason,” she snapped.

  “Me winning could be the best thing to ever happen to your business plan.”

  “Yeah? Well, prepare to eat mud--it’s low to the ground and all the rage,” she called out, wishing she’d thought of a better comeback.

  She put her truck in gear, concentrating on her slush-splashing plan. She’d have to get ahead of him, then cut in front while steering into the slush at the first turn. That might get tricky. She didn’t want to do anything that would risk his safety but he was a pretty decent defensive driver and was likely expecting her to pull some tricks. He was currently set up on her left which would mean he’d take the inside, giving him an unfair advantage as well as foiling her splash plan.

  She popped her truck into reverse and backed up, laughing as Frankie spun around in his seat to see what she was up to. She cranked her wheel hard and pulled alongside Frankie’s left, putting her in line for the inside track.

  How she wished she could see his face now but she was too high up to see him down on her passenger side.

  She frowned out her windshield. How was she going to know when it was time to race? That was why he was always on the left. Practicality.

  Well, practicality would have to take a back seat today. It was her turn to win.

  She put the truck in ‘park’ and unbuckled her seatbelt so she could crawl across the seat to look down at Frankie.

  He grimaced up at her. “Maybe not so smart, huh?”

  “I’ll honk. On the third honk, go.”

  Frankie shrugged and glanced up. “All right.”

  Mandy settled herself back behind the wheel. She made sure her truck was in four-wheel drive and, taking a deep breath, visualized winning. She was ready to rumble. To roll. To cream his sorry white, tight little pinchable buttocks.

  She only hoped he realized that when she moved into his building she was going to have to make some major alterations such as cutting holes in the outer walls and roof for venting, maybe move a few walls, and redo the plumbing and electrical. Because one way or another, that place was going to end up with a restaurant in it.

  Well, maybe.

  Mandy took a deep breath, trying to shut out all the reasons why she shouldn’t open her own place and focus on how nice it was to be the one in control of the race start for once. How great it was to have a moment to compose herself and get her head in the--HONK!

  “Frankie!”

  Geez. He was so impatient. She was the one who was going to honk. Now she had to start all over again with her visualization.

  HONK!

  Son of a--HONK!

  “Frankie!”

  Mandy shoved her foot down on the accelerator, her tires spinning out as Frankie pulled away, the mud not bogging him down one iota. What the? Those weren’t mud tires. Did he under-inflate them for better floatation? The tricky punk! She eased up on the gas, quickly moving forward, catching up with him.

  They took the first turn neck-and-neck, her backend slipping out in sync with Frankie’s. As he straightened out moments before her, mud spat up from his tires, hitting the body of her truck with great thuds as he pulled ahead. He took the short right bend in the track, leaving her behind. She tried not to flinch as more mud hit her paint job as his car fishtailed. She pinned it, cutting him off before he could move over and take the inside lead for the next corner. She tore between two stands of poplars, their tender buds tapping her sides as she flew by. She could worry about paint scratches later, she had a race to win.

  Her truck hit the snow and ice and accelerated over the compact ground. She flew into the sun and splashed through a massive, slushy puddle. She grinned, certain she’d drenched Frankie’s windshield if he was still back there.

  Clenching the steering wheel, her arms jerked as she flew through squiggly mud, then over a sudden patch of hard pack. She slowed for the second last turn, her breathing jagged with adrenaline. She waited for the right second to accelerate, pulling herself straight so she could bring it home. One more curve. She saw a flash of Frankie’s car behind her and grinned. She was going to win!

  For once!

  He must be so frustrated.

  She let out a laugh.

  Wait. Unless he was letting her win. No, there was no reason for him to do that. Especially since she’d gloat around town for months.

  She went into the last turn, glee making her hit the accelerator too soon. Her back end slipped out. She tried steering into her spin and forced herself to relax. The steering wheel felt locked as momentum morphed her spin into a long, uncontrolled skid. The thick mud and heavy snow worked against her efforts and her built up speed took her sideways. She steered and played with the gas pedal, afraid she’d hit something hard and overturn. She frantically forced the steering wheel this way and that, in hopes of regaining control.

  Nothing.

  The bushes and the fence at the edge of the meadow were coming up fast beside her. If she managed to accelerate to pull out of the skid, she’d surely end up in the creek, taking out the hiker’s foot bridge. Either option left her with a ruined paint job and quite possibly much more.

  The seatbelt dug into her shoulder and her hands slipped on the wheel.

  Breathe!

  Focus!

  You can do this.

  Look where you want your vehicle to go.

  It wasn’t working. Nothing was working! Her heart thundered so hard, she could feel it punching the locked seatbelt.

  Still skidding sideways, she watched Frankie take the lead. He was moving uncharacteristically slow, cautious. He was going to win while she totaled her truck for nothing.

  She let out a cry of frustration and slammed the gas, sending clumps of snow, mud, and grass flying over her truck as her tires tore at the earth, clumps hitting the windshield and obscuring her vision.

  In a panic, she slammed on the brakes, Frankie’s advice about always accelerating out of bad situations fully ignored. She’d rather get stuck than keep heading for her current options. With both feet jammed down on the brake pedal, she slowly spun to a halt. Her hair fell over her face and she rested her sweaty forehead against the steering wheel as she let out a shuddery exhale. Safe. She was safe.

  She hadn’t won, but she was alive and hadn’t totaled her pride and joy. Hooray for small miracles.

  She slowed her breathing until she was no longer making little gasping yips. There was a low knock on her door and she slowly opened it.

  “Okay?” Frankie asked, looking up, face pale.

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said, leaning back on his heels, a huge grin growing. “Because it looks like you’re opening a rent-free restaurant on Main Street, Miss M.”

  5

  Mandy wiped down the window table, watching the couple a few tables away as they enjoyed their coffee, each leaning over the table to catch every word the other shared. No cellphones vying for attention. No kids interrupting and spilling drinks. No staring out the window, waiting for the meal to be over. Just absorbing bliss.

  With her hands still trembling from her almost-crash, she emptied the last of the coffee pot into the sink at the back and glanced over her shoulder toward Benny’s office. Maybe she could convince him the rumors were simply about her wishes to renovate the place, seeing as it still looked as though two places had been smooshed together--which they had. Benny was well aware she was tired of tripping over the ratty c
arpet seam between the old and new floor.

  The door’s bell jangled and Mandy looked up, then glanced at the clock. The kitchen was closing in ten minutes and here was Sophie and her tired looking family. She considered turning them away, but instead, seated them before running to the kitchen to beg Leif to keep the kitchen open.

  He gave her a suffering look. “I’ve got a life, you know.”

  “So do I,” she replied before wondering whether there was any truth to the statement. She returned to the dining room, grabbing a booster seat on her way to help Sophie seat her children.

  “Oh, wait,” Sophie said, standing up. “We’re at Beth and Oz’s table.”

  “It’s okay,” Mandy said, feeling the sting at the mention of her ex and his new wife. “They’re on their honeymoon.” They wouldn’t be back at their ‘date’ table for a few more days.

  “Oh, I’m sorry Mandy.” Sophie fell into her seat with a remorseful expression.

  Mandy ignored the pity and busied herself settling menus in front of the adults and crayons and coloring pages in front of the kids. She was about to pass some to Sophie’s son when she paused, giving him a teasing smile, holding the crayons to her chest. “Wait a second…didn’t you have a birthday last week?” She gave him a look. “You’re not too big for coloring, are you?”

  The boy gave her a devilish look and made gimme hands at the crayons. She laughed and placed the plastic cup of crayons in front of him, along with a coloring placemat.

  Later, while she was running the couple’s payment through the register, she felt someone behind her. Benny, his face grim, asked, “Can I talk to you when you’re done?”

  Mandy’s stomach felt similar to one of the first times she’d raced Frankie around the meadow. She’d driven her car right over the riverbank, sending her stomach plunging hard and fast. She’d ruined her car, which had, in the end, allowed her to buy her 4x4 as well as smarten up about paying better attention when racing. She rubbed her chin in memory of the scar she’d received when she’d slammed into her steering wheel on impact. All these years, she’d worried about almost killing him at the tower? She should have worried about him killing her with their races.

  Following Benny to his office, she tried to stay cool, running through the long list of excuses she’d thought up during her shift. By the time she reached his office, she couldn’t remember a single one. She just hoped he’d be quick about whatever punishment he felt fit for her betrayal.

  Benny sat at his desk and tucked his hands under his chin. “What’s this I hear about my retiring and you taking over the place?”

  “Benny, I’m so sorry.” Mandy sagged onto the couch and sighed. “Gloria took a conversation out of context.”

  Benny nodded, silently. “Are you looking for more?”

  Mandy closed her eyes. She was tired. Tired of working so hard and not getting anywhere. And, if she was honest, tired of wanting more. She opened her eyes and studied Benny, who didn’t look anywhere near as tired as she felt.

  “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I just feel like I need to take some control of my life.”

  “And boot me out of my own business?” he asked in disbelief.

  “No. No.” She held out her hands. “I’m sorry. I was just spouting off to Gloria but she’s obviously spread the word--wrongly.”

  “You want your own place?”

  Mandy bit her lower lip and held her breath, watching Benny’s expression. She didn’t know what she wanted. And to her surprise, Benny looked more interested than anything. Not offended. Not insulted. Not peeved. Not angry. Interested. Intrigued. Kind of like Frankie.

  “Well,” she admitted, not daring to say more.

  Benny smiled. “I thought you might eventually. You have a knack for business and this business in particular.” He leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. “I think you could be quite good at it.”

  Mandy let out a breath of relief, her hope building. “You think so?”

  “Yes. However, we have a problem.”

  She winced and held her breath.

  “I’m not ready to give up this place--as ramshackle as it is. It’s what keeps me going. And this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

  “I could never compete with you, Benny.”

  He grinned. “That’s right you couldn’t.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “But I was thinking if I somehow complemented your menu, there might be room for another restaurant in town.”

  Benny quirked his head and Mandy leaned forward, not quite sure where her courage was coming from, but trusted he’d hear her out without judgment or taking a bazooka to her flowering bud of a dream.

  “I believe there’s a lack of healthy food alternatives in town.”

  Benny groaned. “Not this again.”

  “Blueberry Springs,” Mandy said impatiently, “has changed from when you first opened up. I’m not talking about things people don’t know and can’t pronounce. Just simple stuff. The cities have pita and wrap places now.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “You know? Healthy fast food.”

  “And?”

  “And…I don’t know how to start something like that but I really think it could work.”

  Benny sat in silence for a moment. “Maybe you need to think smaller.”

  “Smaller?” She frowned at him. Being a waitress was smaller. She needed to think bigger.

  “What about a side business to get your feet wet? You could do it while waitressing.”

  “I did play with the idea of offering sandwiches for Jen’s outdoor adventures,” she admitted. “Like mini-catering or something.”

  Benny let out a chuckle. “Don’t sound so enthused.”

  “Making a few lunches isn’t really…”

  “Big enough?” Benny offered. “Gratifying? Lucrative?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well.” Benny tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips in thought. “If you decide to go that route, make sure you charge enough to make it worth your time. But maybe you should consider buying into one of those ready-made businesses instead. Those things are a business in a box. Everything is laid out, there’s training, brand recognition, marketing, everything. All you need is start-up cash and a place to set up shop.”

  “That’s what Frankie said too but they’re really expensive.”

  Benny gave her a look that made her feel bad for not talking to him first. “I’m sorry, Benny. I didn’t…” She lifted her shoulders and tried to figure out what to say that would make things okay.

  “Well, whatever you decide, make sure you give me at least two weeks’ notice before you go.” He stood and walked her to his office door, his enthusiasm fading. “Your shoes are going to be mighty big ones to fill.”

  “Thanks, Benny.” She gave him a quick hug, grateful and guilty all at once. “For everything.” She gave his beefy arms a squeeze.

  “Fly away, little birdie,” he chuckled. “And if you need anything--anything at all--you know where to find me.”

  Mandy crashed onto Frankie’s couch and draped an arm over her eyes. It felt as if her whole life had been turned upside down and given a good shake this week. It was as though she was at a crossroads in high winds and without a map. But it didn’t matter which way she went: she’d never be able to return to where she’d once been and she still didn’t know if that was a blessing or not.

  Heart’s nose nudged her in the ribs and she patted his head, avoiding the tennis ball she knew he’d be offering. The dog, giving up, slumped down with a thud onto the floor.

  As the clink of ice cubes against glass moved closer, she held out her hand; a cold, damp glass nestling into her grip.

  “Thanks, Frankie.” She eased herself into a sitting position and let the vanilla spiced whiskey and Coke cool her throat. “Perfect.” Why did Frankie’s drinks taste so much better than her own? “You should have become a bartender.”

  Frankie folded himself into the armchair kitty-corner t
o her and sipped his own drink. “So the smell of skunk is finally gone?”

  She leaned deep into the couch’s cushions, smoothing her uniform’s shirt. “I think so.”

  She propped her feet on the coffee table, letting her socks brush against Frankie’s feet to absorb his warmth. She gave them a friendly tap with her own. The vibe in the air made her feel as though they might actually be friends again. Him believing she was accepting his building had somehow put things right again.

  Frankie let out a hacking cough, his eyes watering as he sat up to clear his chest.

  “Your cough sounds awful.” She watched him hack with alarm. “You should see a doctor.” She took a large swallow of her drink and checked her watch, perching herself on the edge of her couch. “Or get some rest.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “I’ll go so you can get some sleep.” She took another big swallow of Coke and whiskey. It was a good thing she’d walked over.

  “No, stay.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about your day. After I creamed you in the meadow, of course.” He gave her a pleased wink.

  She waited until the color had returned to his cheeks before settling back into her spot. “Same as ever.”

  “Benny heard the rumors?”

  She nodded, trying to ease her way back into a comfortable position, but unable to find one.

  “What’d he say?” Frankie prompted.

  She waved a hand through the air, dismissing the conversation.

  “Did you get fired?” Frankie asked.

  She scowled. “No!”

  “Well, I would have let you go. A subversive employee learning the ropes only so she can secretly go out on her own and take you down…” Frankie tsked and sipped his drink.

  Mandy whipped a cushion at him. He caught it deftly and tossed it back, messing up her hair as it flew by. “Hey! My drink!” she said, holding it up out of harm’s way.

  Frankie held up his own in protest.

  “You’re such a punk.” She tried to hide her smile behind her glass. She loved it when they could play like this. He was going to make some woman lucky--coming home to him every night wouldn’t be a hardship.