tell.”
“Does everybody in this town already know all my business?”
He laughed again. “Not all of it. Not yet, anyway. But give us a few days.”
“From the look of Birdsong, I’m going to be here for quite a few days,” I told him. I started to push my cart toward the cash register, intending that to be a signal that our paint consultation was done.
But Jimmy Maynard didn’t shake that easily.
“You’re not gonna try and tackle that place all by your lonesome, are you?” He looked me up and down. “Expensive jeans, I can’t see the label, but I’m guessing those are Nine Lives. They run, what, a hundred and fifty bucks? Suede boots, North Face parka. You studying to start painting dressed like that?”
“These are Nine Lives,” I said, “but actually, they cost more like a hundred and seventy-five. And thanks for reminding me. My girlfriend told me to buy myself some Carharrts.”
“Next aisle over,” Jimmy said. “Don’t think I’m a pervert or anything, but it’s a shame to hide a cute little butt like yours in a pair of them big ol’ baggy Carharrts.”
My eyes widened, and I felt myself blushing.
“Aw, damn,” Maynard said. “There I go again. My second wife used to tell me, ‘Jimmy, you need a filter between your brain and your big mouth.’ Guess that was maybe one of the few things she was rightabout. I’m sorry, ma’am, for being so forward.” He bowed deeply. “Please accept my heartfelt apologies for such a boorish comment.”
I giggled despite myself.
“You do forgive me,” Maynard said. “Now, you gotta let me make it up to you. How ’bout lunch? I know, it’s early yet, but Tuesday’s pot roast day at the Corner Café, and you gotta get there no later than eleven thirty, because they’ll run out, just as sure as shooting, and you’ll be stuck with the shepherd’s pie.”
My stomach growled at the mention of food, but I refused to give in to temptation.
“I do forgive you,” I said. “But if you’ve seen Birdsong, you know the kind of job I’ve got facing me. I don’t dare stop for lunch. Not today.”
“All right,” he conceded. “I can see you’re a lady with a mission. But would it be all right if I stopped by someday, to check up on your progress? Birdsong used to be a hell of a place. I’ll be anxious to see what you do with it.”
I made a wry face. “The first thing I’m going to do is scrub it, from top to bottom. Then I’ll start thinking about paint and all the rest of it. And sure, stop by anytime.” I flashed him a grin of my own. “But be forewarned, if you do come by, I might just put you to work.”
He grinned back. And at that moment, I realized, I’d just engaged in my first, official, small-town flirt. And it felt pretty darned good.
14
I made a quick stop at the Piggly Wiggly for groceries. Not that I intended to do much cooking. Moving around with Mitch, and then through college, law school, and my life as a lobbyist, I’d never had the time or the inclination to become much of a cook. On the hill, my roommates and I managed to subsist on coffee, bagels, business lunches, and cocktail receptions.
Now, I realized, things were about to change. As Lynda had pointed out, there was no Starbucks in Guthrie. And unless I intended to let Jimmy Maynard treat me to lunch on a daily basis at the Corner Café, I was going to have to learn to feed myself. Quick and cheap would be my bywords. I bought some frozen casseroles, canned soup, lots of yogurt, cereal, and salad fixings. And a big bag of French roast coffee beans. One thing I couldn’t do was deal with instant coffee.
At the checkout counter, the cashier, a middle-aged woman with long, beribboned braids, gave me a bright smile. “You’re Mr. Norbert’s niece, aren’t you?”
Did everybody in Guthrie know me by sight already?
I smiled back. “Well, I’m his great-great-niece. Dempsey Killebrew.”
“And I’m Chellie. Chellie Tighe. My husband, Dave, is kin
“Does everybody in this town already know all my business?”
He laughed again. “Not all of it. Not yet, anyway. But give us a few days.”
“From the look of Birdsong, I’m going to be here for quite a few days,” I told him. I started to push my cart toward the cash register, intending that to be a signal that our paint consultation was done.
But Jimmy Maynard didn’t shake that easily.
“You’re not gonna try and tackle that place all by your lonesome, are you?” He looked me up and down. “Expensive jeans, I can’t see the label, but I’m guessing those are Nine Lives. They run, what, a hundred and fifty bucks? Suede boots, North Face parka. You studying to start painting dressed like that?”
“These are Nine Lives,” I said, “but actually, they cost more like a hundred and seventy-five. And thanks for reminding me. My girlfriend told me to buy myself some Carharrts.”
“Next aisle over,” Jimmy said. “Don’t think I’m a pervert or anything, but it’s a shame to hide a cute little butt like yours in a pair of them big ol’ baggy Carharrts.”
My eyes widened, and I felt myself blushing.
“Aw, damn,” Maynard said. “There I go again. My second wife used to tell me, ‘Jimmy, you need a filter between your brain and your big mouth.’ Guess that was maybe one of the few things she was rightabout. I’m sorry, ma’am, for being so forward.” He bowed deeply. “Please accept my heartfelt apologies for such a boorish comment.”
I giggled despite myself.
“You do forgive me,” Maynard said. “Now, you gotta let me make it up to you. How ’bout lunch? I know, it’s early yet, but Tuesday’s pot roast day at the Corner Café, and you gotta get there no later than eleven thirty, because they’ll run out, just as sure as shooting, and you’ll be stuck with the shepherd’s pie.”
My stomach growled at the mention of food, but I refused to give in to temptation.
“I do forgive you,” I said. “But if you’ve seen Birdsong, you know the kind of job I’ve got facing me. I don’t dare stop for lunch. Not today.”
“All right,” he conceded. “I can see you’re a lady with a mission. But would it be all right if I stopped by someday, to check up on your progress? Birdsong used to be a hell of a place. I’ll be anxious to see what you do with it.”
I made a wry face. “The first thing I’m going to do is scrub it, from top to bottom. Then I’ll start thinking about paint and all the rest of it. And sure, stop by anytime.” I flashed him a grin of my own. “But be forewarned, if you do come by, I might just put you to work.”
He grinned back. And at that moment, I realized, I’d just engaged in my first, official, small-town flirt. And it felt pretty darned good.
14
I made a quick stop at the Piggly Wiggly for groceries. Not that I intended to do much cooking. Moving around with Mitch, and then through college, law school, and my life as a lobbyist, I’d never had the time or the inclination to become much of a cook. On the hill, my roommates and I managed to subsist on coffee, bagels, business lunches, and cocktail receptions.
Now, I realized, things were about to change. As Lynda had pointed out, there was no Starbucks in Guthrie. And unless I intended to let Jimmy Maynard treat me to lunch on a daily basis at the Corner Café, I was going to have to learn to feed myself. Quick and cheap would be my bywords. I bought some frozen casseroles, canned soup, lots of yogurt, cereal, and salad fixings. And a big bag of French roast coffee beans. One thing I couldn’t do was deal with instant coffee.
At the checkout counter, the cashier, a middle-aged woman with long, beribboned braids, gave me a bright smile. “You’re Mr. Norbert’s niece, aren’t you?”
Did everybody in Guthrie know me by sight already?
I smiled back. “Well, I’m his great-great-niece. Dempsey Killebrew.”
“And I’m Chellie. Chellie Tighe. My husband, Dave, is kin
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