diapers, a can of formula, and other miscellaneous baby things. The poor child squalled even as she tried her best to soothe his cries.
Newland took a deep breath. If there was one thing he hated it was a baby crying. Not that it made him irritable, but he hated that one so young could be so unhappy. He had spent so much of his childhood sad and missing his parents. If he knew what to do for the child, he would do it right away just to stop that flow of tears.
In front of the poor mother stood Gilbert Hughes. Or was it Darrell? The twins were nearly identical, big hulking mountains of men who didn’t look like they had the good sense to get out of the rain. He shook his head at his thoughts. He really had been hanging out here too long if he was even thinking things like that. Or maybe those Southern sayings were just too easy to pick up. After all, he’d only spent about a week in the South his whole life put together.
“Is that all for you?” the cashier asked. She looked no more than fifteen, but he supposed that if she wasn’t in school at this hour she had to be older than that.
She had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, big hoop earrings dangling from each ear, and a wad of chewing gum the size of Texas in her mouth. She blew a bubble and waited for Gilbert/Darrell to fish out his money.
“Did you get my special order in?” Gilbert/Darrell asked.
She gave him a look, smacked her gum one more time, then went to the microphone on the other side of her cash register. She turned it on and her magnifying voice floated over their heads. “Bob, you got that order for Gilbert?”
“Darrell,” the twin corrected.
“Darrell, I mean.”
From somewhere on the other side of the store Newland heard the man yell, “Gimme a sec!”
She put Darrell’s purchases in a sack, one by one. There were huge cartons of strawberries and blackberries along with what looked to be five large bottles of Karo syrup. Who needed that much syrup?
Was it Southerners in general that seemed to be insane or just the good people of Turtle Creek?
“You’ll have to wait over there, sugar.” Cash Register Girl waved him away.
Newland checked her nametag. Naomi.
Darrell looked about to protest, but took his sack in one beefy hand and stood aside so Naomi could ring up the poor mother with the bawling baby.
Newland could say one thing about Naomi though: she was quick. In no time at all, even before Bob got Darrell’s special order to the front of the store, it was Newland’s turn.
“Is that all for you, sugar?” The girl smacked her gum and blinked at Newland.
“Yeah, that’ll do it.”
“That’ll be twenty-four fifty,” she said with a smile.
He handed her his money, and she punched in the appropriate keys hardly taking her eyes from him as she put his money in the drawer. “You’re new around here, huh?”
“I’m a reporter.”
“I bet you seen a lot of things.”
“You could say that.”
“You going to work for the
Gazette
?”
The
Turtle Creek Gazette
? “No, I’m staying with Bitty Duncan.”
“That Bitty.” Naomi shook her head, her ponytail swinging from side to side. “She’s a piece of work.”
“Why is that?” Newland asked.
The girl shrugged one shoulder as if doing both was too much of an effort. “I don’t know. Some say she’s a little batty. She stays holed up in her house so much these days it’s hard to say. Of course she goes out with her friends when she wants to and everything.” She was talking in circles, and Newland couldn’t figure out the meaning of anything that she was telling him. This was his one good opportunity to get an outside opinion of Bitty Duncan, and yet he couldn’t even seem to do that. “But she’s nice enough, I suppose,” Naomi finished.
“She is at that.” Newland grabbed up his wood and started toward the door. He was halfway there before Naomi called out. “Hey, shug, you forgot your nails.”
He backtracked to get the box of nails
Newland took a deep breath. If there was one thing he hated it was a baby crying. Not that it made him irritable, but he hated that one so young could be so unhappy. He had spent so much of his childhood sad and missing his parents. If he knew what to do for the child, he would do it right away just to stop that flow of tears.
In front of the poor mother stood Gilbert Hughes. Or was it Darrell? The twins were nearly identical, big hulking mountains of men who didn’t look like they had the good sense to get out of the rain. He shook his head at his thoughts. He really had been hanging out here too long if he was even thinking things like that. Or maybe those Southern sayings were just too easy to pick up. After all, he’d only spent about a week in the South his whole life put together.
“Is that all for you?” the cashier asked. She looked no more than fifteen, but he supposed that if she wasn’t in school at this hour she had to be older than that.
She had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, big hoop earrings dangling from each ear, and a wad of chewing gum the size of Texas in her mouth. She blew a bubble and waited for Gilbert/Darrell to fish out his money.
“Did you get my special order in?” Gilbert/Darrell asked.
She gave him a look, smacked her gum one more time, then went to the microphone on the other side of her cash register. She turned it on and her magnifying voice floated over their heads. “Bob, you got that order for Gilbert?”
“Darrell,” the twin corrected.
“Darrell, I mean.”
From somewhere on the other side of the store Newland heard the man yell, “Gimme a sec!”
She put Darrell’s purchases in a sack, one by one. There were huge cartons of strawberries and blackberries along with what looked to be five large bottles of Karo syrup. Who needed that much syrup?
Was it Southerners in general that seemed to be insane or just the good people of Turtle Creek?
“You’ll have to wait over there, sugar.” Cash Register Girl waved him away.
Newland checked her nametag. Naomi.
Darrell looked about to protest, but took his sack in one beefy hand and stood aside so Naomi could ring up the poor mother with the bawling baby.
Newland could say one thing about Naomi though: she was quick. In no time at all, even before Bob got Darrell’s special order to the front of the store, it was Newland’s turn.
“Is that all for you, sugar?” The girl smacked her gum and blinked at Newland.
“Yeah, that’ll do it.”
“That’ll be twenty-four fifty,” she said with a smile.
He handed her his money, and she punched in the appropriate keys hardly taking her eyes from him as she put his money in the drawer. “You’re new around here, huh?”
“I’m a reporter.”
“I bet you seen a lot of things.”
“You could say that.”
“You going to work for the
Gazette
?”
The
Turtle Creek Gazette
? “No, I’m staying with Bitty Duncan.”
“That Bitty.” Naomi shook her head, her ponytail swinging from side to side. “She’s a piece of work.”
“Why is that?” Newland asked.
The girl shrugged one shoulder as if doing both was too much of an effort. “I don’t know. Some say she’s a little batty. She stays holed up in her house so much these days it’s hard to say. Of course she goes out with her friends when she wants to and everything.” She was talking in circles, and Newland couldn’t figure out the meaning of anything that she was telling him. This was his one good opportunity to get an outside opinion of Bitty Duncan, and yet he couldn’t even seem to do that. “But she’s nice enough, I suppose,” Naomi finished.
“She is at that.” Newland grabbed up his wood and started toward the door. He was halfway there before Naomi called out. “Hey, shug, you forgot your nails.”
He backtracked to get the box of nails
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