by Blythe Baker
My next stop was the Hillbilly Hollow Museum. I had to drop off some fliers from the Historical Society and wanted to give some of my business cards to Jackie Colton, Suzy’s Mom who was also the museum curator. I thought she might be willing to refer anyone to me who might need graphic design work. I had known Mrs. Colton my whole life, and she had always been a supporter of my graphic design work. I knew I would find the most volume of work online, but thought it would be gratifying if I could pick up a little local business as well.
My hands were full with two big boxes of fliers for Old Fort Days as I went into the museum. I balanced the boxes cautiously as I gingerly opened the door with the tips of my fingers. As I started through the door, someone pushed past me, nearly knocking me over.
There was no mistaking her wild, silver-white mane of hair, and the multi-colored tunic she wore. It was Melody Campbell, the popular local artist. There were several pieces of her work on permanent display at the museum.
“Really, do you have to be just where I’m trying to walk? Move aside! Honestly!” She made a tsk-tsk noise against her teeth with her tongue and shook her head as she pushed me aside.
She was known for her eccentricity as much as her highly sought after paintings. Her style was a mix of impressionism and cubism, marked by bold colors and subtle design. I didn’t think her work was as good as many people did, but I had been lucky enough to visit lots of museums and local galleries in New York, so I considered myself pretty spoiled in that regard.
“Hi, Ms. Campbell,” I said cautiously. “Everything alright?”
“Oh, yes, it’s just wonderful!” she said, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “My car’s in the shop, and I have to walk all the way back to my house with all of this,” she said, holding up two large bags of art supplies. “So yes, Emma, it’s just a wonderful day!” She started to huff off.
“Ms. Campbell, if you’ll wait for…” I started to offer to drop her at her home if she’d wait for me to leave the fliers with Mrs. Colton.
“No, I will not wait! I’ve told you I’m very busy. Good day!” She stormed off.
Hmpf! Rude, much? I couldn’t believe I was thinking of helping that cranky woman.
I spent a few minutes with Mrs. Colton, then ran over to Founders Park. The front entrance to Founders Park was two blocks behind the Historical Society. The park was also accessible through Hollow Heights Garden via an entrance on County Road 47 at the back. It had a small playground, several benches, and a large open area that was used for festivals. Hollow Heights Garden, though, was the highlight of the park, and a source of many visitors to Hillbilly Hollow each year. It was a beautifully landscaped space, rich with examples of local flowers and plants.
Each year, the kickoff of the Flower Festival was a charity auction held on the park grounds. Local artists, both professional and amateur, created beautiful themed banners to be sold in the auction. I had promised Grandma I’d buy a pretty banner for her to hang on the front porch. She had always wanted one, but never seemed to be able to win the ones she was after at the auction.
I stopped at the registration table to pick up an auction paddle, and had just enough time to make a quick run through of the items up for sale. There were a couple of pretty banners that I thought Grandma would like. There were several nice ones with scenes of our little downtown area, and some of the natural beauty spots from around the county. Several depicted the old fort here in town, same as it stood in modern day, while others showed scenes of it in its military heyday. I came upon one banner that had pretty colors, but the abstract style wasn’t my taste. I thought I recognized it as Melody Campbell’s work.
As I stood, looking over the piece, someone I had yet to run into since I’d been back in town was suddenly standing beside me.
“Well, if it isn’t little Emma Hooper,” the tall, perfectly coiffured blonde said from behind oversized black sunglasses.
“Hello, Lisa,” I replied, trying to hold back the venom in my voice. All through school, Lisa Teller, now Lisa Teller-Parks, had always seemed to get the better of me. She ended up marrying Jason Parks, local realtor, but I’d heard that they had recently gotten divorced.
She and I ended up in competition for everything. From class secretary to cheerleading – whatever I went out for, she did too, and she usually beat me. Things got really bad between us our senior year of high school. She had developed a crush on Billy, and everyone knew we were close. Apparently she was flirting with Billy, who wasn’t interested, and when he rejected her, she started a hurtful rumor about us. She had told everyone in school that Billy’s parents were broke, and weren’t telling him, but were about to lose their house. She said that was why we were close, Broke Billy and Little Orphan Emma. Even though none of it was true, and we’d all grown up, seeing her made my blood boil.
“I see you’re looking at the Campbell banner. Looks like you finally developed decent taste after all these years. I mean, you wouldn’t know it looking at your clothes.” She smirked.
“You know, I hear you’ve made Jason a very happy man.” I smiled at her.
“We’re…divorced, actually,” she replied, lifting her nose in the air.
“I know. That’s what I meant. Enjoy the auction!” I giggled as I walked off to take my spot.
I didn’t win the first banner I bid on. It was a pretty garden scene with hydrangeas all over it. Prudence Huffler was bidding on it, and I didn’t have the heart to outbid her after all she’d been through with losing Preacher Jacob just a few months before. I couldn’t say that Prudence looked happy, exactly, but she definitely looked better than she had during her darkest days.
The abstract banner came up, and Lisa immediately bid.
“Fifteen,” she said, holding up her paddle nonchalantly.
Someone off to the side offered twenty.
“Twenty-five,” I countered.
“Thirty,” Lisa said.
“Thirty-five,” I replied. Most of the banners had gone for between twenty and fifty dollars, so the auctioneer, Mayor Bigsby himself, was growing excited.
“Forty-five!” Lisa said authoritatively.
“Fifty!” I countered.
Another hand went up somewhere in the crowd, and Mayor Bigsby pointed, yelling, “Sixty,” but never took his eyes off of Lisa and me. He had spent enough time at auctions to know a bidding war when he saw one.
“Seventy-five dollars!” Lisa shouted, holding her paddle high. The crowd grew quiet.
I chuckled. “One hundred dollars!” I replied. There was an audible gasp.
Mayor Bigsby looked at Lisa, who shook her head back and forth.
“Sold, to Emma Hooper for one hundred dollars! Emma, thank you for being such a generous supporter of the Historical Society!” Mayor Bigsby said.
I smiled and nodded graciously. Well, crap! I thought, that wasn’t even the banner I wanted, and I sure didn’t mean to pay a hundred bucks for it! I just hadn’t wanted to see Lisa win.
I paid for my purchase and headed back toward the main entrance. The banner was more expensive than I had intended, but it was a pretty color combination, and would look nice hanging on our front porch. Besides, the money did go to a good cause and Grandma would just be happy to have a piece of artwork of her very own.
As I started walking back to the truck with my purchase, Jerry Langston, the local veterinarian, chased me down. “Emma! Emma!” he said, as he jogged up to meet me.
“Hi, Dr. Langston. Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes!” he snapped impatiently. “I need that banner.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, opening it and digging through the cash inside. “How much did you pay for it?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” I asked incredulously.
“You heard me. How much did you pay for it?” He pulled a few twenties from the wallet.
“Dr. Langston, this is mine, I…” I started to protest, and he cut me off.
“Hmpf! Alright, then! I’ll give you twen
ty over the asking price and not a penny more! Here!” He shoved a handful of bills at me, and went to grab the banner.
I was incensed! The banner was hideous, true enough, but the colors were nice, and there was something strangely familiar about it. Almost comforting in a way I couldn’t explain. It was for my grandma, and there was no way I was going to let someone take it from me.
“No, sir!” I pushed back on his fistful of cash. “This is for my grandma, and I’m taking it home to her now. Good day, Dr. Langston.”
I pushed past him and headed toward my truck. I could’ve sworn I heard an almost growling sound as I walked away.
As I drove home, I couldn’t help but wonder again about the robbery that was the talk of the town. Hillbilly Hollow wasn’t that close to the interstate. It was the type of place you had to make an effort to come visit. I couldn’t believe some random criminal would go out of their way to come to our little town to rob a gas station. At the same time, if it wasn’t a stranger, it had to be someone local. There were a few unsavory characters that hung out at Happy Hills, the trailer park out past the junkyard on the far outskirts of town. Still, I couldn’t imagine anyone being so brazen as to risk being seen and caught.
I wondered if the robbery had everyone else in town on edge too. Lisa had been in rare form today, even for her. I felt a twinge of regret at making fun of her divorce, but after all, she had been really hateful to Billy and me when we were kids, so maybe she deserved it. Melody Campbell had shocked me with her rudeness too, and for no apparent reason. I should’ve probably chased her down to make her let me drive her home. She lived a good distance out at the edge of town, and she wasn’t a young woman anymore. Still, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, I supposed.
Dr. Langston was another piece of work. I couldn’t think why in the world he would expect me to give up the banner I had just bid to win. Of course, he clearly didn’t know how much I had overpaid for it, but still, it was rude of him to try to take it from me so forcefully.
The Flower Festival was supposed to be a fun time – one of the best weeks to be in Hillbilly Hollow. This year felt different, though. I wasn’t sure if it was the fog of Preacher Jacob’s death a few months before, or something else, but it was as if there was something in the air in Hillbilly Hollow. Whatever it was, I didn’t like it one bit.
END OF EXCERPT
About the Author
Blythe Baker is a thirty-something bottle redhead from the South Central part of the country. When she’s not slinging words and creating new worlds and characters, she’s acting as chauffeur to her children and head groomer to her household of beloved pets.
Blythe enjoys long walks with her dog on sweaty days, grubbing in her flower garden, cooking, and ruthlessly de-cluttering her overcrowded home. She also likes binge-watching mystery shows on TV and burying herself in books about murder.
To learn more about Blythe, visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.blythebaker.com
