In a Jam

by Cindy Dorminy

  He backs away from the counter. “It’s too much.”

  I sling my hip out and put my hand on it. “Stanley Culpepper, how would you eat an elephant?”

  “Uh, I wouldn’t. I like venison.”

  I pat his shoulder. “You eat an elephant one bite at a time.” I wave my hand over all the materials. “You tackle this one problem at a time. Let’s start with addition.”

  “If you say so.” Poor guy. By the way he stares at the workbook, I get the sense that he has no confidence in his abilities to pass.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket, find a Southern rock station, and crank it to an ear-bleeding level. He bops his head to Lynryd Sknyrd, and seeing him relax makes me happy, so happy that I even sing along to “Sweet Home Alabama.”

  After thirty minutes of reminding Stanley that whatever he does on the left side of the equation, he has to do to the right, I think it clicks. He relates it to dipping, which makes me shudder, but whatever works for him works for me.

  “See, Andie, if I put my Skoal on the right side of my gum, the next time, I have to put it on my left. It helps with the buzz.”

  I almost throw up in my mouth. “I believe you. Next step: if Mark purchased X T-shirts at six dollars apiece and Y sweaters at twenty dollars apiece, which expression represents the total value of the purchases? The key word here is...”

  He cringes. “And?”

  I high-five him. “Yes. The key word is ‘and.’ So which one of the choices is correct?”

  He studies the question and the four choices I’ve written on the dry-erase board. “Hmm. I think I start with putting my plus sign here for the ‘and.’” I encourage him to continue. “So that eliminates A and C because they have a minus sign.”

  My smile gets bigger. In one lesson, he has already learned how to beat the system by eliminating the obvious wrong choices, which is a positive sign that he’s a better problem-solver than he thinks. “X goes with six, and Y goes with twenty, so it has to be B.”

  I do a whip and nae-nae only for him. “Woo-hoo. Watch me whip. Now watch me nae-nae.” I freeze, hoping he didn’t think anything more of that than an expression of excitement for his correct answer.

  Stanley covers his eyes with his hands. “I think I’m blind.”

  “I’m not that bad of a dancer. Anyway, you are way smarter than you’ve let yourself believe.”

  He lets out a yawn, which makes me yawn. “We better call it a night. I got the big county fair this weekend.”

  I snap my finger. “Do you want to sample my jam? You know, give me an honest opinion? I think I’ve got Granny’s recipe nailed.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got room.”

  I pull out the lone Mason jar that I kept back for myself and attempt to pry it open. I tug and tug, but it’s not going to open.

  Stanley holds out his hand for me to give him the jar. “It is bull strong and pig tight, isn’t it?”

  “Uh, if you say so.”

  With ease, he turns the lid, and the loud popping sound tells me I sealed it properly. Yay for me. I pull out one lone biscuit left from this morning and place it on a plate. I spoon out some of my jam onto the biscuit and scoot the plate in front of Stanley.

  “Be honest. That’s the only way I can learn.”

  He takes a bite and swallows but doesn’t say anything.

  “Oh no. What did I do? I thought this time it was better.”

  “It’s dang good, Andie.”

  I flop onto the stool next to him. “Oh, thank the Lord. So you like it?”

  He shoves the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. “Tastes pretty much like Mary Grace’s.”

  I clutch my chest. “Aww. Thanks, Stanley. That means so much.” If it passes the Cavanaugh and the Stanley test, I must be on to something.

  “It’s got a kick like hers did. What did you use?”

  “Nope. It’s Granny’s secret recipe. Not going to tell.”

  He slides off the stool, dusts crumbs onto the floor like he always does, and finishes off his iced tea. “Thanks, Andie. See you at the fair?”

  “Wish me luck.”

  He stops before exiting and clears his throat. Without turning to face me, he says, “I appreciate you.”

  Aww.

  He leaves, and I pull down the shade and lock the door. In the dead quiet store, I collect all the study supplies and nae-nae all the way up the stairs. “Woo-hoo. I’m going to win.”

  Even if I don’t, I tried my best. I never thought I would even care about impressing a bunch of hillbillies, but it is important to me that they know I cared about my grandmother and her traditions. It doesn’t change my mind

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Andie

  So this is a county fair. The town square, which is usually a vacant plot of dried grass, has been converted into a miniature fairground, and it’s an easy walk from my shop. All I have to do is follow my nose, and in no time, I’m in the middle of a small-town festival. I never knew these kinds of things actually existed, but here I am, surrounded by inflatable bouncy houses, a dunking booth, and an honest-to-God food stand that offers fried pickles and funnel cakes. I’ve always thought “funnel cake” was an odd name for a pastry. It’s not in the shape of a cone at all. I might have to try one later.

  At least I’m not overdressed for the occasion. My simple yellow sundress and low-heeled strappy sandals don’t make me stick out like a sore thumb. My wicker basket filled with jars of jam swings from my elbow. I’m a woman on a mission to fit in. Granny, you’d be proud of me.

  I walk up to an elderly man sitting under a green canopy. Next to him is a sign that reads Contestant Registration. I guess I’m in the right place.

  The elderly man smiles. “Let me guess. Jam contestant.” He must be psychic.

  “That’s right. This is for my grandmother.”

  He slides a clipboard over to me, and I register my strawberry jam, leaving out the part about it being spiked.

  “The jam contest will be at five o’clock at booth number three.” He points in the direction of the line of booths with banners advertising various items and events like food, country crafts, 4-H, and Girl Scouts. “It’s behind the petting zoo and before the Tilt-A-Whirl ride.”

  I glance down at my watch, noticing it’s only midafternoon. “Thank you, sir.”

  In no hurry to get to booth number three, I take in the sights and smells of the fair. Children rush past me toward one of the bouncy houses. To my left, men try to impress their ladies by ringing a bell with a sledgehammer. And my nose is overwhelmed by the smell of fried everything. The first day I got here, this smell would have made me throw up, but now I want to try everything, including the fried pickles. But first, I have to try one of those funnel cakes. They are only a dollar fifty. What a bargain!

  Gunnar’s niece runs up to me. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders in two long braids. In one hand, she holds an ice cream cone, and with the other, she tugs on the hem of my sundress.

  I grin down at her. “Well, hello there.”

  She smiles, and a dimple pops out. “You’re Miss Andie, aren’t you?”

  I bend down so I can see into her pretty blue eyes. “You know my name. You’re Lily, correct?”

  She nods as she takes a lick from her cone and holds it out for me to have a turn. In my old life, I would never have shared food, especially with a kid who probably has more germs than the CDC can categorize. But here, it would seem rude not to, so I take a lick and taste homemade peach.

  “Yummy. Thank you for sharing your ice cream with me. That is so sweet of you.”

  She offers me another lick, which I oblige.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  She shrugs and takes another lick. “She’s working the dunking booth. Uncle G is supposed to be watching me.”

  “Where is your Uncle G?”

  She takes another lick. “Don’t know.”

  I hold out my hand for her to take. “Why don’t we find him together?” Yes, l
et’s find that hot uncle of yours.

  “Uncle G talks about you all the time.”

  A warm sensation flows from my chest down to my toes.

  “He uses the word captivating a lot. Not sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound fun to be captured.”

  I bite my lip and watch this adorable child chasing her melting ice cream with her tongue. I comb the crowd for Gunnar. He can’t be far. He’s a policeman. He has to be searching for her. I’m about to give up and find Lily’s mother, when I see a flustered Gunnar in the distance. He runs his hands through his hair as he darts around, hunting for Lily. Even with armpit sweat stains and disheveled hair, he’s still as sexy as sin.

  I point at him. “I think we found him.”

  Lily drops my hand and runs his way. His terrified expression turns to complete relief upon seeing her. He scoops her up and swings her around. She holds her ice cream out for him to lick. Now all three of us have swapped spit. She points at me, and when my eyes meet his, he goes from relief to a full-on smile.

  I walk to him, and he drinks me in from head to toe. That look is yummier than the ice cream.

  Without losing eye contact with me, he asks Lily, “Where did you run off to?”

  “I wanted to see the bunnies.”

  He grins at me then turns his attention back to his niece and tickles her stomach. “Your mama would have skinned me alive if I lost you again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  She pouts, and my heart melts for her. “No, but I found your captivating friend.”

  I cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

  Gunnar’s face turns as red as a sunburn. “I see that.”

  “Lily shared her ice cream with me. It was delicious.” Maybe after she’s safely returned to her mother, Gunnar and I can share other things, in private.

  Lily holds her cone out for me again. I refuse this time.

  “She likes to scare the ‘you know what’ out of me. Her mother’s over there.” He motions with his head to the dunking booth.

  Some large guy sits on the bench above the cold water, waiting to be submerged. On such a hot day, that wouldn’t be a terrible thing.

  “My guess is you’re not in the mood to be in the doghouse with her.”

  He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Exactly, and she might sic her fireman husband on me.” He points at the guy manning the Ferris wheel. The man is built like a tank.

  I cringe. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

  “Uncle G, let’s go see the bunnies.”

  He tickles her again before his eyes rake over me one more time. “We must see bunnies. Good luck today.”

  Well, crud. I’ve been bested by bunnies. “Thanks.” My grip on the basket tightens. I really am proud of what I’ve done, and I’m shocked that my grandmother gave me such an interesting, ironic secret.

  With my shoulders back, I put on a happy face and practically skip toward the taste-testing booth.

  The other nurse that works with Regina stomps toward me, her red hair whipping around her face. She’s no bigger than me, so when she stops in front of me, we are eye to eye. Her resting bitch face doesn’t do anything for her.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Gunnar race-walks toward me, flailing his arms.

  The redhead pokes me on the arm, almost impaling me with an acrylic nail. “Excuse me. Are you Andie?”

  “Yes.” Of course she knows who I am, but something in her tone tells me this is not going to end well.

  She rears back and slaps me so hard across the face, I fall to the ground, landing on my knees and dropping my basket full of jam jars.

  “Ow!”

  Gunnar grabs her arm before she hits me again. “Jolene, what are you doing?”

  She tries to wriggle free, but he has a viselike grip on her arm as he holds out his other hand to help me up. Lily picks up the jam jars and puts them back in my basket. I examine the jars to make sure they are still intact. Jolene should be glad they survived because I was ready to go all Southie on her. The woman jerks away from Gunnar and moves toward me, but he blocks her path.

  She points at me over his shoulder. “That’s for messing with my man.”

  Ugh. Girl drama. I’m not messing with her man. But I would like to be messing with the man holding her back from me.

  I rub my cheek. Damn! I think I’m going to have a bruise from her slap. I’m grateful she didn’t punch me. She may be petite, but she packs a mean punch. A small crowd has formed around us, and some people have their phones out to take pictures. That’s peachy. I’ll be the topic of someone else’s blog by tonight.

  Jolene takes a deep breath, jerks away from Gunnar’s grasp, and holds her hands out in surrender. I hope that means she’s done using violence.

  “Have you been spending time with Stan?”

  I’m sure Jolene has a sweet side, but right now, I’m not seeing the attraction. It’s either that, or Stanley is used to her craziness.

  “Yes, but you need to have a little more faith in your boyfriend.”

  Jolene rears back to take another swing at me. I cover my face, but there’s no contact. When I peek through my fingers, I catch Gunnar wrestling with her.

  Jolene backs away from us. When she gets to the Tilt-A-Whirl, she yells, “You Yankee bitch better leave my man alone.”

  “Bring it,” I yell back.

  Gunnar touches my cheek, and I grimace.

  “Thanks for protecting me, but I had it all under control. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined I’d be in a Southern catfight.”

  Gunnar scans the crowd. “It’s over, folks. Nothing to worry about.”

  The crowd filters away as though it’s just another day at the fair.

  Gunnar raises an eyebrow. “You know she’s Willow’s—”

  “I know, and I don’t care. People need to mind their own business.”

  “You and Stan?”

  I rub my face. “It’s not what you think.”

  He wags his head and cracks a grin. “I’m not sure what to think.”

  “I promise it doesn’t involve any physical contact.”

  His eyes burn into me, and I can’t peel my gaze away from his. He leans close to my ear and whispers, “I’d like some physical contact later.” His breath tickles my neck, and a shiver runs down my spine.

  “I’ll see if I can make it happen.” Oh, it’s on. If it weren’t for a little girl and a jam contest, I would drag him back to my shop right now. We could give the Jacksons something really juicy to write about.

  His eyes sparkle, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

  Lily tugs on his arm. “Come on, Uncle G. The bunnies.”

  My eyes dance. “The bunnies.”

  Gunnar waves as the four-year-old girl takes control of him and leads him away from me.

  Sigh.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Gunnar

  Bunnies, bunnies everywhere. Lily almost had me talked into buying her one when Liza Jane saved the day. She’s decked out in a prairie miniskirt, cowboy hat, and boots. On any other person, it would look ridiculous, but Liza pulls it off. She knows her best friend, my sister, well enough to know that I would be in the doghouse permanently if Lily came home with any critter that would ultimately be one more thing for Faith to take care of.

  Lily walks between Liza and me, holding our hands as we walk through the middle of the town square. Liza saved the day by remembering the hand sanitizer. The germs from the bunnies, goats, and every other living creature don’t need to stay on her hands, especially now that she’s making a beeline to the cotton candy machine. Nowhere in the rules did Faith mention a maximum amount of sugar, so cotton candy it is.

  Liza waves me off when I pull out my wallet for the tenth time this afternoon. “I’ll get this one.”

  My eyes roam the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain someone in a yellow sundress. She could be anywhere by now. I don’t see any jars of jam on the ground, so at least Jolene’s not bo
thering her anymore. Hopefully, she’s occupied with Stan and has forgotten all about Andie. The band starts playing a country line dance song, which is not my thing. Liza and Lily run back to me. Lily is pulling sticky pieces of pink cotton candy off the cone and shoving it in her face. She’s going to be a gooey mess in five minutes flat. I’m glad I don’t have to bathe her tonight.

  Liza points at the band. “That’s my jam.” She leans down to Lily and whispers something in her ear, making my niece snicker. Liza kisses Lily on the cheek and rushes onto the dance floor, holding her cowboy hat on her head with one hand while she whistles with two fingers of the other. Crazy girl.

  I watch Liza as she dances. She waves me over to join her, but I refuse. I would rather keep scanning the crowd to see if I can find Andie.

  And for the second time in one afternoon, Lily has scooted out of my eyesight. My sister is never going to let me watch her ever again. Finally, I spot Lily hugging Andie’s legs next to the ring-toss game. Thank God. Andie’s arm cradles Lily’s head as she strokes her hair. She leans down to talk to Lily, and her face displays a shocked but happy expression. She searches the crowd, and when she finds me, her smile widens.

  They meet me halfway.

  “Tell your Uncle G that I would love to,” Andie says to my niece.

  I can read a whole lot into that open statement, but we are in public, and there are little ears ready to pick up on every word said. “Lily, what did you say to her?”

  “That you wanted to dance with her.”

  It’s either an intense, five-second sunburn or embarrassment that creeps up my neck. Andie throws her hands up in surrender. Lily runs off again before I can catch her, but Liza snags her then waves at us and mouths, “Go for it.” I stare at my boots before daring to look at Andie.

  “Smithville should be called the matchmaker capital of the world,” Andie says.

  “I guess so. Why don’t we get hitched so we can get some peace?”

  Her eyes get big.

  “I’m kidding.” Or maybe I’m not.

  She laughs. “Of course.”

  I turn in a circle. “I don’t see broken jars anywhere. Is it safe to say the jars safely made it to the contest booth?”