In High Cotton

by Kelsey Browning

  The welder was hunched over his project, apparently oblivious to his visitors, so Sera took the opportunity to scan the space. Big oxyacetylene tanks lined one wall. Each chained there like a prisoner, probably to keep them from toppling over and causing a real disaster.

  Sera meandered through the shop, checking out the bins of materials. Nothing looked like anything Colton would be interested in except possibly the Jack Daniels bottles and beer cans in the corner trash.

  The sound of the welding machine throttled back. The man raised his visor and said, “Hello there, ladies. Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m having a little problem with my exhaust system.” Sera held up the sad-looking tailpipe. “I was told to bring it to Joe. Is that you?”

  “In the flesh.” He chuckled. “And I’d say your problem is big if you’re carrying around your muffler.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  He shrugged and wiped his face with the sleeve of his coveralls. “Not a matter of if I can, but if I have time. I’ve got jobs from here to Atlanta piling up.”

  “Really?” Maggie said. “I wouldn’t think there’s much call for muffler work in a town the size of Summer Shoals.”

  “Oh, I do some other welding jobs. You know, to make a little hustle on the side.”

  Hmm. Hustle sounded dicey. Sera tried to be nonchalant when she asked, “What kind of side jobs?”

  “Oh, some fence work. And the High on the Hog committee wants me to fix up the cookers before this year’s event.”

  Sera wandered around the space, lightly running her fingers over tools and tanks. “Welding is really a dying art. Some people think it’s just manual labor, but that’s shortsighted.” She drew a spiral on a bump connecting two pieces of pipe. “Some welders would make a big mess of something like this, but your joints are perfect. Tiny works of art.”

  Joe’s chest puffed out under his coveralls. “Mighty nice to hear a lady who appreciates a man’s work.”

  While Joe was facing her, Sera watched Maggie poke around on his workbench and peek into some cabinets.

  He drew Sera over to what looked like the hull of a small fishing boat. “Let me show you my butt joint.”

  A cough came from Maggie’s direction.

  Sera tried to keep lookout for a sheep or any other sculpture, but found nothing. Maybe Maggie would be more successful. “Joe,” Sera said, “you’re so talented. Not that muffler work isn’t amazing, but do you ever make anything original?”

  “Whatcha mean?”

  “Oh, maybe something just for fun. Not really functional, but more like a sculpture.”

  “You mean like that Ellerbee kook?”

  Yes, Joe, exactly like that Ellerbee kook.

  “You have to admit he’s done quite well for himself,” she commented. “And there’s money to be made at it.”

  Joe’s snort echoed inside the garage. “Pansy-assed welding, you ask me. But to each his own, I guess.”

  Sera’s surge of excitement frittered away. This lead was now officially a dead end as well. When would they get the break they so desperately needed?

  “But old Blackwood, the shop teacher over at the high school, must’ve thought there was something to all that junk because he has his kids making projects kinda like Ellerbee’s. Thinks they’ll do real good when it comes to raising money for scholarships at this year’s auction.”

  “You don’t say,” Sera said, flashing him a smile and winking at Maggie. “Well, we’ve taken enough of your time. Guess we’ll be on our way.” She turned for the bay door.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Don’t you want me to reattach your muffler?”

  Maggie sighed and slowly pulled out her wallet, which meant she was about to fork over Hollis’ money to fix Sera’s muffler.

  Chapter 13

  The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air when Maggie strolled into the kitchen. She took down the mug Lil had given her when she first moved into Summer Haven. The saying on the mug, You’ll always be my friend, you know too much, had been funny at the time. It had taken on a whole new meaning when Lil went to prison.

  Maggie poured her cup three quarters to the top, then cooled it with enough milk to make it tan. She liked to think of it as a dairy portion, good eating habits and all.

  The sun danced off the sun catcher Sera had hung in the kitchen window, casting a thousand spherical dots of color across the room.

  Maggie forced herself to get her butt in gear. There was a lot less of her butt since she’d joined Sera in her yoga class, and that was a good thing. No sense screwing up her progress now. She race-walked out to where the other yoga students had already gathered on the lawn near the white gazebo, and slipped into the back row in time to take the first inhale with the group.

  “Deep breath in.” Sera’s voice was like a melody. “And out.”

  By the third deep breath, Maggie was back in the zone. She still didn’t have the grace of many of the people who attended Sera’s class, but then again most of them were less than half Maggie’s age. From the back row, it looked like a well-choreographed dance troupe as everyone moved slowly from downward facing dog to a standing position, then folding forward and to the right in the sun salutation. The group stretched right, then left, then right again in a reed-like wave. A couple of women were bundled up in so many clothes Maggie wasn’t sure how they were able to stretch at all. Not Sera. Nope, she was in yoga pants and a sleek turtleneck. In that getup, she looked as if she could transition to the role of cat burglar at a moment’s notice.

  Maggie’s body moved from pose to pose. Then Sera took them through the final few poses for the cool down, and Maggie felt the now familiar mental high-five that amped up her confidence every time she participated.

  Rather than chatting with the others today, Maggie headed for the house. As she reached the porch, a blue sedan she didn’t recognize pulled up. Bruce Shellenberger, the IT guy from Dogwood Ridge Assisted Living, stepped out of the car with a hello.

  A smile spread across her face, and her heart did a little do-si-do.

  She threw her hand in the air and waved like a cheerleader shaking her pom-poms. She hadn’t seen him in…well…way too long. She’d had high hopes she might after last fall’s Halloween party, but not when she was looking a mess. A flood of anxiety rushing through her, she pushed a hand through her hair. A complete bird’s nest. But ducking inside to brush her hair seemed impolite. Just her luck.

  “How have you been?” Bruce walked toward her, stopping about three feet away.

  “Good. You?”

  “Great.”

  You look pretty great. Even more handsome than I remembered.

  “Work’s been really busy.” A silence hung between them. “They asked me to work full-time for a special project, but I’m back to my part-time hours now.”

  “That’s good.” Great. Good. Surely Maggie could think of more interesting conversation. But what was he doing here? He didn’t seem to know what to say, and she wasn’t sure either.

  “I was wondering if you’d been out to the new bookstore for any of those project weekends they’ve started doing?” He shifted his weight from one foot to another and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets.

  “No. I’ve been meaning to get out there. I’ve always been more a library kind of a girl, but I do want to support them. New in the community and all that.”

  “Well, these Saturday events are really for the kids. They’ve partnered with Holloway’s Hardware for a children’s hour. One of the librarians reads to the kids first, then they host a parent/child craft project.”

  “That sounds nice.” But why would she go if she didn’t have small children?

  “This weekend they’re building birdhouses. My son was supposed to take my grandson, but he has to work so I’m taking Austin. Only problem is I’m not exactly handy. Give me a computer? No problem. Hammer and nails? Not my thing.”

  “Oh, you’ll be fine with a hammer and nails. Piece
of cake.” She patted him on the arm and discovered that under his long-sleeved plaid shirt, Bruce had more muscle than she’d expect on a tech guy. She snatched her hand back because the other option—the one she wanted to choose—was to let it linger. “Besides, if it’s a kids’ project, they’re probably using glue and dowels.”

  “Says you.” He frowned down at the hand she’d dropped as if trying to figure out why it wasn’t still on his arm. When he glanced back up, a small hopeful smile played around his lips. “Maybe you could give me a lesson. Everyone in Summer Shoals talks about how handy you are.”

  Really? She had no idea people thought so highly of her or that Bruce had been asking around about her. Either way, her confidence buoyed, and wasn’t feeling good about yourself inside way more important than a good hair day?

  “Or I thought…if you’re free…if you wanted to…you’d like to meet me at the bookstore on Saturday. Kind of help Austin and me out during the project. Then maybe you and I could do lunch afterwards?”

  He swallowed as though he wanted to gulp back his words. Was he nervous? Well, she sure knew how that felt.

  Sera had kept pushing Maggie to call him, but she was old school. It didn’t seem right to chase him down, but now that he was asking her, a flurry of questions popped into her head.

  What would she wear?

  What if he tried to kiss her?

  What if his grandson was a brat?

  What if she outdid him in the manly carpentry stuff…probably easy to do?

  Bruce ducked his head. “Or if you’re busy I understand—”

  “No!” Her pause had made him think she wasn’t interested, but she was. Very. “I’d love to.”

  Bruce’s face brightened. “You would?”

  “What time?”

  “It starts at noon, so I’ll plan to stop by and pick you up about a half-hour before. My son will pick Austin up from the bookstore afterward, so then you and I can walk down to the Atlanta Highway Diner and grab a little lunch.”

  “That sounds perfect.” Just lunch. No pressure there, and no fuss over what to wear. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  He stared at his feet for a few seconds. Finally, he cleared his throat, then looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by after the Halloween party. I meant to. But I…well…”

  Maggie felt a flush of warmth flow from her heart to her cheeks, and she reached out to touch his arm. He had felt a little something. She’d begun to think it had just been her all along. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.”

  Voices flowed in a burst of chatter as Sera called goodbyes to the last of the yoga stragglers. Bruce looked over his shoulder nervously. “I guess I’d better go. I’m looking forward to Saturday.”

  “I am too.”

  Bruce took a couple steps back, then turned and waved again. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Yep,” Maggie said.

  When Sera spotted Bruce in the driveway, she ran right up to him and for a moment, Maggie felt an unfamiliar pang. Jealousy. But that was just plain silly. Sera was her friend, and Bruce had asked Maggie on a date. Not Sera.

  Maggie’s insides felt as though she’d sipped a marshmallow-covered cup of hot chocolate. She actually had a date. A real one.

  Sera waited until Bruce turned around in the driveway and headed out before she broke into a jog toward Maggie. The smile on her lips made Sera’s heart joyful. “Good morning, Miss Popularity.”

  Maggie’s lashes fluttered, and the flush on her cheeks wasn’t from the yoga.

  “So? What did Bruce want?”

  Maggie pulled her lips together in a tight line, then burst into a Cheshire-cat-sized grin. “He asked me out. We have a date on Saturday.”

  “Awesome! A date! That’s great.”

  Maggie’s laugh was light. “He was pretty nervous. But he’s sweet.”

  “Who’s sweet?” Abby Ruth stepped out on the porch with a super-sized travel mug of coffee.

  “Bruce Shellenberger is sweet on Maggie. He just left. Asked her on a date.” Sera noticed the way Abby Ruth’s spine shifted as if someone had poked her with a stick. She was jealous of Maggie and Bruce!

  But Abby Ruth nodded and gave Maggie a wink, then walked over and sat on the edge of the porch railing. “About time. What’s on the agenda today?”

  Sera sat on the porch next to Maggie, suddenly feeling protective of her because of Abby Ruth’s jealousy. Sera pulled her bare feet underneath her, Indian-style. “How about we scope out the Summer Shoals High School shop teacher?”

  Maggie said, “How will we get in? Go after hours?”

  “Nope,” Sera said. “I think we’d be taking less of risk going during school hours. Then we can see him in action. Take a look around. Plus we really don’t have the time to waste. We need someone to show us where the classroom is.”

  “You think you can get us in?” Abby Ruth’s mouth pulled down on one side.

  “I do.” It drove Sera crazy the way Abby Ruth thought she was the only one with great ideas some days. “You in?”

  “I’m in,” Maggie said.

  “Let’s do this,” Abby Ruth said. “But I’m driving.”

  Sera, Maggie and Abby Ruth piled into Abby Ruth’s big truck and headed over to the high school. They had to park on the far side because the lot was crammed with fancy cars—a couple of Mercedes, a classic Corvette, and one shiny jacked-up truck that could’ve given Abby Ruth’s dually a run for its money. Goodness, these kids were driving cars almost as nice as the ones that ran up and down the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu.

  Sera led the way into the school’s lobby.

  Maggie slowed to a stop. “Place sure looks naked now compared to when it was all decorated up for the Annual Holiday Art Fest.”

  “They could use some feng shui and color to bring out the positivity.” Sera inhaled, pulling in the chemical scent of industrial floor cleaner and burning her nose in the process. Yuck.

  She would definitely talk with the principal about switching to green cleaning products. All those chemicals they were using now couldn’t be good for young minds.

  “Any idea which way to the shop class?” Abby Ruth asked.

  “In my day,” Maggie said, “most of those classrooms were at the back of the school.”

  Back was a relative term here since once you passed through the columned front entrance, the building branched off right and left.

  Sera forged ahead. “It seems to work when we split up,” she said, motioning for Maggie and Abby Ruth to catch up with her. “Maggie and I will go right, and Abby Ruth, you can go left.”

  Maggie leaned in close to Sera. “Are you sure letting her wander off by herself is a good idea?”

  “If she goes alone, we can’t be accused of warping young minds.”

  “Good point.”

  Abby Ruth was already striding off down the hallway, her cowboy boots thunking hollowly against the speckled linoleum.

  Before they could peek into the first classroom in their hallway, an eardrum-exploding electronic bell blasted from the hallway speakers. Maaaa.

  “Sounds like an electrocuted goat,” Maggie commented.

  “They should consider something more soothing, like tongue drums or the sitar.” Teenagers swarmed into the hall, bringing with them the scent of overheated bodies, drugstore cologne and pheromones. Sera grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her against the cool tile wall.

  “That was close,” Maggie said.

  Sera could all but see their developing sacral chakras vibrating. The kids jostled one another, shouting to be heard over lockers slamming.

  The wave undulated and intersected like a massive insect colony. A boy in a blue letter jacket braced an arm against one of the lockers and leaned in close to a pretty blonde girl. Sera had seen that flirting hair twirl a few times in her life.

  Seen it? Heck, she’d been a master at it once upon a time. But other than trying to charm the Shipper Shack owner, she hadn’t twirled her
hair for a man in over a year. Truth be told, longer than that.

  And she was lonely. Not for friendship. She had so much of that, her heart was full to bursting. But male companionship…she’d been putting off a decision about that part of her life for far too long.

  The sound of that hoof-in-a-socket goat bleated again, chasing away her melancholy thoughts. Once the high schoolers filed back into the classrooms, she and Maggie stood for a few more seconds, recuperating from the onslaught.

  “Hope Abby Ruth made it through that okay,” Maggie said, pushing her hair back.

  “Are you kidding? I hope she didn’t pull her gun on anyone!”

  “Lord, do you remember what it was like to have that much energy?” Maggie asked, nodding toward the kids.

  “Lot of angst and insecurity goes along with all that energy. Not sure I’d ever want to revisit that.”

  “Amen.”

  They strolled into another hallway, and Maggie paused to peek into the window set in a classroom door. “This doesn’t look like—”

  The door jerked open from the inside, and a forty-something woman with a hairdo that looked as if it had been shaped with a bowl and then lacquered with a gallon of hairspray stared at them with narrow eyes. “What are you doing? If you’re the evaluation committee, you’re not supposed to be here until next week.”

  “We’re not evaluators.”

  “Then who are you?”

  Sera motioned toward Maggie and then herself. “This is Maggie Rawls and I’m Sera Johnson.”

  “And…”

  “And we’re looking for the shop class,” Maggie blurted out.

  “Shop? You must mean Mr. Blackwood’s Engineering and Industrial Technology class.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I meant,” Maggie said.

  The teacher’s eyes became even squintier. “Why are you really here?”

  Darn it. Sera hadn’t totally prepared for that question, and Maggie’s slip-up had set off this over-shellacked woman’s warning signals. “Because I’ve commissioned some art from Mr…” Sera scrambled for the name the teacher had just mentioned.