Chirp(4)

She thrust her arm out again and dangled her wrist. Hanna and Blaze inspected it.

“How do y’all like it? It’s a beer bling bracelet, and it’s just the beginning.” Tiffany counted off as she recited. “I’ll do rings, necklaces, belts, cuff links, key chains, bottle openers, the list is endless.” She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. “I can get the caps for free. I’ve already talked to Jessie at The Roost. He said he’d be glad for me to have them.”

Tiffany’s excitement was contagious, but Hanna wasn’t sure how big a market was out there for bottle caps and rhinestones.

The perky blonde widened her eyes and raised her voice an octave. “Oh! This is the best part. I have the perfect name for my jewelry line. Are you ready for it?” She allotted a dramatic pause for their response. Hanna and Blaze both nodded.

Palms out, fingers spread, she announced it as if on a marquee. “‘Texas Tiffany’s!’ Can you believe it? Oh. My. Lord. It’s like my momma envisioned my destiny when she named me.”

Blaze pulled her brows together. “I thought your fate was to teach second graders.”

“Well, that’s what I went to school for, because they didn’t offer a degree in entrepreneurship. Hanna can tell you, I don’t make much more than she does substituting. This jewelry idea could be big. Really big. I might end up on the TODAY Show. Just imagine: I, Tiffany Ambrosia Scott, could single-handedly put Bluebird, Texas, population 1,202, on the map.”

The way she punctuated the air with her finger as she talked proved she’d picked up some of her father’s pulpit skills. The only thing missing was a Bible to drive her point home.

Tiffany smiled at Hanna. “Well, me and your Nanny Goat Soap line, of course.”

Her exuberance always made Hanna feel better. “Thanks for including me. It’s a great idea. Maybe you can convince Blaze to design your packaging. Look what she did for me.”

Tiffany studied the sketches. “Holy crapoly, these are fantastic.” She gave Blaze her puppy-dog eyes. “Would you?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll dance at your wedding.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t have a clue, it’s just something my granny says when you do something nice for her. I gotta get going. While I was checking for hunks, Jacob Mason asked me out. We’re driving over to Danvers to eat at that Mexican place.”

The jewelry tycoon left with as much gusto as when she’d arrived.

Reaching into her apron pocket, Hanna removed papers and handed them to Blaze. “I got your shopping and banking done. Here are the receipts.”

“Thanks. I need to go, too,” Blaze said. “I want to clean out a few birdhouses before it gets dark. The bluebirds will start scouting soon.”

“Let me help get your bags.”





Blaze


A sensation Blaze hadn’t experienced in a while bubbled in her chest. Pride. Hanna loved the artwork. Not since Dessie died had anyone praised Blaze’s talent. A compliment and recommendation from her friend meant a lot. Along with her goat milk business, the brown-eyed beauty worked hard as a substitute teacher and convenience store clerk. All that and raising Noah.

Blaze wondered about his dad, but Hanna never mentioned him. It was as if the kid had been an immaculate conception. Any man who couldn’t fall in love with someone as beautiful as Hanna must have a problem. Her long dark hair, olive skin, and high cheekbones belonged on magazine covers.

By the time Blaze got home, put away the groceries, and fed the cats, it was six o’clock. Still enough daylight left to get some boxes ready. Over the years Miss Dessie had chaired the committee to promote building and mounting bluebird houses along every county road. Because of her efforts, this hick town was the Eastern Bluebird Capital of Texas. This year, the little berg would celebrate its fiftieth festival.

She raised the lid of the first box and found the hinge screws loose. If Dad could see her working with hand tools, he’d laugh. Before she came here, she’d never held a screwdriver or pliers.

She’d always thought you could hang a birdhouse where you wanted. Turned out bluebirds were picky. The homes needed to be mounted in sunny, open spaces, twenty-five feet apart. She dug out the old nesting straw and dumped it in her bucket, then lowered the lid.

By sunset, she had all but ten boxes clean, but decided to save them for another day. Still had plenty of chores before she could lounge in a nice hot bath.

Just before midnight she connected her iPod to the Pill speaker and cranked up the music before running a bath. That was a benefit of living in a secluded area. No neighbors to complain.

Sinking low in the tub, she inhaled a mixture of almond, coconut, and honey and listened to Meghan Trainor’s “Like I’m Gonna Lose You.”





Rance


The closer Rance got to Gran’s, the faster he drove. On the road for fourteen hours, he was ready for a relaxing soak and feather bed. As he turned onto the home stretch, his heart accelerated. He barreled over the narrow bridge where he and his brothers used to catch tadpoles, then past Mr. Henderson’s hayfield.

The last few miles flew by. He’d not seen the house in over seven years. His grandmother always said she’d leave it to him, but he’d never wanted to think about her dying.