Wedding Date in Hot Springs, Arkansas

by Annalisa Daughety

  “Is that why it’s so important to you to have a date to her wedding?”

  She nodded. “She’s the kind of sister who takes every opportunity to take jabs at me. So I knew the wedding would be brutal. Between her and my mom, they’d probably announce to the world that I’m officially ready to be the new face of the Old Maid deck.”

  Jackson laughed. “Surely it isn’t that bad.”

  She managed a tiny smile. “You’d be surprised.”

  He grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat. “There’s a blanket behind your seat that we can sit on. Come on.” He climbed out of the vehicle, and she followed him to a grassy spot.

  Despite their rocky history, she had to admit that Jackson kept surprising her. One thing was sure—the next few months would definitely not be boring.

  Chapter 16

  Thomas Daniels: DO YOU WANT TO MEET ME TONIGHT AT THE HOT AIR BALLOON FESTIVAL? THERE’S A POETRY READING TAKING PLACE THAT I’D LIKE TO GO TO. (Text message sent September 22, 5:45 p.m.)

  Shadow Simmons: I <3 POETRY! I WILL SEE YOU THERE. (Text message sent September 22, 5:46 p.m.)

  Jackson pulled a sandwich out of the basket. “It’s chicken salad. My mom’s recipe.”

  Violet took the sandwich. “Ooh, on a croissant. My favorite.” She grinned.

  He hoped that meant he’d finally arrived in her good graces. “I also made deviled eggs and banana pudding.” He placed the containers on the blanket between them.

  “Wow.”

  “I know those things probably don’t go together.” He chuckled. “But this is kind of the extent of my cooking skills unless there is a grill or a frozen pizza involved.”

  She laughed. “This looks amazing. Seriously. I’m not used to anyone being so nice to me.”

  “Well you should be.” Once he’d distributed the food, he handed her a bottle of water. “Hope this is okay.”

  “Perfect.” She smiled. “Oh, look at that!” She stood up and pointed toward the sky.

  Jackson followed her gaze. Hot air balloons in a variety of colors bobbed in the distance. “So cool. Too bad we didn’t go up in one, huh?”

  She shook her head. “I’d rather just see them while my feet are firmly on the ground. But they’re beautiful.”

  She sat back down on the blanket. If a picnic beneath a sky dotted with hot air balloons didn’t get him some bonus points, he didn’t know what would.

  “I’m glad you talked me into getting out of the house for this tonight.”

  Jackson nodded. “Thanks for coming. Although I suspect you have a countdown list at home you’ll be checking off once the night is over.”

  She grinned. “Either way, if anyone ever asks if we had a unique date, we’ll have one to share.”

  “True.” He watched her for a long moment as she arranged the food on her plate. “Mind if I pray?” he asked once she was situated.

  “Please.”

  Jackson bowed his head. “Thank You, Lord, for the chance to spend time getting to know one another. Please help us keep You in the center of our lives and show us the path You have for each of our lives. Lord, especially be with Violet as she makes this transition in her life. Bless her and be with her as she opens her business. Amen.”

  Violet caught his eye. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I can’t remember the last time I heard someone pray specifically for me.”

  In that moment, Jackson couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her. She seemed so surprised—grateful almost—like he’d done something extraordinary for her. “Can I ask you a question?”

  She took a bite of her sandwich. “Sure.”

  “Why are you single? I mean, you seem like the kind of girl who would’ve tied the knot years ago.”

  Violet daintily wiped her mouth with a paper towel. “I almost got married a few years ago. I met him right after I moved back from DC.” She sighed. “It was one of those cases where I just refused to see what kind of person he really was. You know?”

  Jackson wasn’t sure if he did. “Was he a bad guy then?”

  “He was a smooth talker. Always had a line. In hindsight, he’d probably make a great politician.” She shrugged. “But he was a lousy boyfriend.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “One thing I hate is being the center of attention. I hate for people to stare at me and to feel like they’re judging me somehow. But Zach was always calling attention to us. He’d have the waitstaff at restaurants sing to me because he thought it was funny how uncomfortable I became. And he’d make a big production out of everything—from arguments to terms of endearment. It was like he needed an audience.”

  “Sounds like he was kind of a jerk.”

  “He didn’t understand me either. I know I like things that are a little weird.” She ran a hand along the hem of her dress. “He thought it was dumb for me to like vintage stores. And when I bought that typewriter, he made no effort to hide how archaic he thought it was to even have it in my house.” She smiled. “And when he caught on to my weird attachment to old pennies, he couldn’t make enough fun of me.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Old pennies?”

  Violet burst out laughing. “I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out.”

  “My mind is totally open.” He grinned.

  She took a sip of water. “I collect pennies that are older than 1984.”

  “Because…?” He hated pennies. He’d read somewhere it cost more to produce them than they were even worth.

  She sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. You probably think I’m as weird as Zach did.”

  Jackson shook his head. “Nope. Not a chance. I’ve never met anyone else like you before, but that isn’t a bad thing.”

  “I have this theory that we were all really happier back then. Have you ever watched families today? The next time you’re at a restaurant, take a good look. Everyone is looking at their phones. Texting, Facebooking, playing a game.” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure real conversation is on the decline.”

  Jackson had thought he was the only person who felt that way. “You’re right.”

  “I just worry sometimes that we’re so caught up in progress and convenience and technology that we forget what’s really important. That’s why I save those old pennies. They remind me of a simpler time and of how fast time passes.”

  “Because you have clear memories of 1984?”

  She nodded. “I was five. I still remember my first day of kindergarten. And when I’d get home from school, I’d play outside. We didn’t have a computer or a remote control. There was only one TV in the family room, and we didn’t get that many channels.”

  “I remember those days fondly.”

  She shrugged. “I guess that’s partly why I hang on to such old stuff. The clothes, the furniture, the books…the pennies.” She grinned. “I even have a record player at my house because I think there’s nothing quite like the sound of a real record.”

  Violet continued to surprise him, that was for sure. He’d just assumed she was a little bit quirky. He’d never guessed that there was more to it than that. “That’s very cool. I haven’t listened to a record in forever. Probably since I was in elementary school.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you listen to mine sometime.” She grinned. “I actually have some Beatles albums.”

  “You just might be the perfect woman.” He realized as soon as it left his mouth how it must sound. “For someone, I mean.”

  “Someone who doesn’t mind inside dogs and clutter.”

  He chuckled. “That’s right.” He scooped some banana pudding into a bowl. “So did you and this Zach guy just finally realize you weren’t meant for one another?”

  “If it had only been that simple.” She gave him a wry smile. “He cheated on me. A lot. With more than one girl.” She sighed. “I had no clue it was going on, but it seems that everyone else did. Finding out was pretty terrible.” She shrugged. “That kind of thing does a number on your self-esteem. I hav
en’t dated much since then.”

  He let out a low whistle. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

  “It’s really hard for me now to believe I’ll find someone who is really trustworthy. Plus I’m sort of scared I’ll put my trust in the wrong guy. I’ve done it once; who’s to say it won’t happen again.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I don’t have a magic answer. But I do think you deserve the kind of guy who’ll treat you like a princess.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I should’ve found a fake relationship years ago. It’s nice that there’s no pressure to be anything but myself. I’m not usually this relaxed on a date.” She grinned. “But since this isn’t a real date, I can be totally honest.”

  Not a real date. Why did Jackson keep forgetting that? He smiled. “That’s right. Nothing real here except the chicken salad.”

  “Do you want us to come help you, dear?” Grandma asked after church on Sunday.

  “I’m awfully good with a paintbrush,” Grandpa said. He winked. “Or is that nice young man we saw you talking to after Sunday school going to be helping?”

  Violet blushed. She hadn’t expected Jackson to show up at church this morning. They hadn’t discussed it last night. “We’re going to get the final coat of paint finished. Shadow helped me prime it earlier in the week.”

  Grandma smiled. “It’s all coming together.”

  “Thanks to a lot of prayers by a lot of people.” Violet hugged Grandma. “And you’re sure you don’t mind helping with Reagan’s kids next weekend? They can be a handful.” Violet loved them dearly, but each time she watched them for Reagan, it took her two days to recover.

  “I’m looking forward to it. And I’ve got some reinforcements. Betty and Shadow are already lined up to help out.” She patted Grandpa’s back. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if someone else showed up.”

  Grandpa grinned. “She can’t bear to be away from me.” He winked at his wife.

  Violet hugged them both and hurried toward her car. She loved spending time with her grandparents. She hoped to have a bond like theirs with someone someday.

  An hour later, she’d let Arnie have some backyard time and had changed into her painting clothes. She sure wouldn’t win any awards today in an old T-shirt and yoga pants.

  As she hurried up the sidewalk toward the bakery, she spotted Jackson sitting on a bench in front of Aunt Teak’s, wearing a baseball cap and some faded jeans. “Ready to paint up a storm?” she asked, digging in her bag for the keys.

  Jackson nodded. “I sure am. I’m even more ready for the kitchen to be functional so I can indulge in some more of those cupcakes.”

  She pushed the door open and laughed. “You’ll be in luck next weekend.”

  “What’s going on then?” He followed her inside and flipped on the light switch.

  Violet dusted a speck of dirt from the counter. “Reagan is coming to help with some marketing stuff. One of the things she wants to do is take pictures of cupcakes for the brochure.” She grinned. “So there’ll be a variety of cupcakes to taste test.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said.

  “Plus I really want to work on the menu. I’m getting really excited. I’m thinking I’ll have some basic flavors that are always on the menu. You know—chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, maybe a red velvet.” She grinned. “But then I think I might rotate other flavors out on a weekly basis.”

  “Keep the menu fresh, so people will want to stop in to see what’s new.” He grinned. “I like that. Smart business.”

  She blushed. “Just an idea.”

  “It’s the kind of idea that will help make you very successful.”

  Violet sighed. “I hope so. The closer I get to the opening, the more nervous I get.”

  “I think we need to work on your self-confidence a little bit.” Jackson took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You are brilliant. You’re smart and funny. People are going to love to stop in here just to talk to you. Your cupcakes are amazing, and your sales are going to be off the charts.”

  She blinked. He really thought those things about her? “But what if—”

  He put a hand over her mouth. “No buts. You need to believe in yourself and your abilities.” Jackson removed his hand and smiled. “I believe in you. Your grandparents believe in you. Reagan believes in you. It’s time for you to believe in yourself. Otherwise you’re going to worry yourself silly trying to open this place and being too afraid of failure.”

  Tears filled her eyes. Was it really that obvious that she struggled with self-doubt? “Thanks for the pep talk,” she whispered. “I guess I needed it.”

  Jackson grinned. “Anytime.” He motioned toward the paint cans sitting on the floor. “Now let’s get this party started.” He opened a paint can and poured the creamy yellow paint into a tray. “That’s going to be awfully cheery.”

  “I hope so.” She picked up a foam paint roller. “I considered just painting it white, but decided a pop of color would be better.”

  “You definitely seem like the type of person who would do better surrounded by color. Plain walls just don’t seem to go with your personality.” He dipped a brush into the paint and climbed up on the step ladder. “I’ll start cutting in, and you can roll behind me. Is that good?”

  Violet nodded. “Works for me. I’m not that great at cutting in. You can always see my brush strokes.” She watched him work for a long moment. “So I’m thinking about bringing my record player to use in the shop. What do you think?”

  “That could be fun. Kind of a retro feel.”

  She laughed. “Plus then I’ll have an excuse to look for records at thrift stores and yard sales. I might use some as decorations.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He concentrated on the corner. “And that girl we saw last night is going to work here?”

  “Shadow. Yeah. Her grandmother owns the antique store next door and lives next to my grandparents.”

  “So she lives with them?”

  Violet rolled the roller in the tray and let the excess paint drip off. “Her mom—their daughter—was killed in an accident a couple of years ago. Her dad remarried, and I think she’s just had a really hard time adjusting.”

  Jackson let out a low whistle. “Such an awful thing for a kid that age to deal with.” He stepped down from the ladder to dip his brush into the paint. “Really for any age to deal with.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  He looked at her with pain in his eyes. “I can. My dad passed away last year. It was completely unexpected. He’d always been the picture of health.”

  Violet put the roller down. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  Jackson nodded. “Heart attack. It’s been a pretty awful year.” He turned back to the wall. “And now my mom is dating again.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m having a hard enough time coping with that—I can’t imagine if I were still in high school.”

  Violet watched him work and couldn’t help but feel an ache in her heart. Part of her wanted to hug him, to try and take away the pain he obviously still felt.

  But it wasn’t really her place. They were only together for show, not to be part of each other’s lives.

  So she kept quiet and turned her attention back to her painting.

  Dear Mama,

  This was an awesome weekend. I got to see hot air balloons and listen to Thomas recite some of his poetry. He’s so cool.

  Nana and Granddaddy would only let me meet up with him for an hour though. I’m tired of them treating me like a baby. I read in your journal that they didn’t let you date until you were seventeen. Well, I’ll be seventeen in five months. And I can’t wait.

  Thomas and I ran into Violet and her boyfriend at the festival. She wants me to start working regular hours at the bakery pretty soon! I helped her do some painting after school earlier in the week. I think she was surprised that I was actually good at it. I hope she’ll let me put icing on the cupcakes once the bakery op
ens.

  I got another e-mail from Daddy asking me about Thanksgiving. It seems like I don’t really have much of a choice but to go.

  I miss you so much, Mama. If you were still here, I wouldn’t have such a big hole inside me. Thomas says I should draw on my pain to create poetry, but I don’t know.

  Ily,

  Shadow

  Chapter 17

  Jackson Stratford: HOW DOES THE PAINT JOB LOOK TODAY? AND WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? (Text message sent September 26, 4:13 p.m.)

  Violet Matthews: THE PAINT JOB IS FANTASTIC. AND I’M A JOHN HUGHES FAN, SO EITHER THE BREAKFAST CLUB OR SIXTEEN CANDLES. OR FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF. YOU? (Text message sent September 26, 4:19 p.m.)

  Jackson Stratford: YOU GET MORE IMPRESSIVE BY THE DAY. NICE CHOICES. I’VE GOT TO GO WITH INDIANA JONES THOUGH. EITHER RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK OR TEMPLE OF DOOM. CAN’T GO WRONG THERE. (Text message sent September 26, 5:03 p.m.)

  Reagan paced the floor Wednesday night. They’d just gotten home from church and put the kids in bed. She’d hoped she and Chad would finally have the chance to sit and talk, but he was flipping through the channels.

  Ever since he’d dropped the bomb about his trip to Miami, she’d been trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject. Except that she wasn’t totally sure she wanted to know who all from his office would be attending the conference.

  “So are you still on for Miami?” she asked, sitting down beside him on the couch.

  He glanced up. “Yeah. I’ll be leaving Friday afternoon and be back on Monday.”

  “What kind of thing is it, anyway?” She brushed some dirt from her pants. No telling where that had come from.

  “It’s a continuing education thing put on by SHRM. Nothing exciting, believe me.” He grinned.

  “Are you the only one that has to go?”

  Chad furrowed his brow. “No. There are six or seven of us I think. And even that won’t make it more exciting. In fact, I’m on a different flight than they are because I have a meeting Friday morning that couldn’t be moved.”