Small Town Rumors(49)

“Modern women wear bright colors and square nails. And good God, Jennifer”—he’d never called her Jennie Sue because that sounded too redneck for him—“whoever did that horrible job left a dab of polish on your big toe. That’s unacceptable.”

She’d learned to do her own nails from then on. Unacceptable in his world was the worst thing in the whole universe.

When she finished with that foot, she stood up. “Now scoot forward while I go get more warm water. The polish should be dry enough so that it won’t smear.”

“Looks like you’ve done this before,” Rick said.

“Lots of times,” she said.

“Why didn’t you have yours done professionally?” Cricket asked.

“I did for a while,” Jennie Sue said. “By doing them myself I didn’t have to smell all those awful chemicals.”

“Amen to that,” Cricket said. “So you definitely aren’t leaving Bloom to go into the nail business.”

“Nope, hopefully I’m leaving to get a start somewhere on the bottom rung of a corporate ladder if I’m lucky,” she answered.

“And if not?”

“Then as a glorified secretary in a used-car dealership,” Jennie Sue answered. “What about you, Cricket? If you could be anything in life, what would it be?”

“What I really want to be . . .” Cricket paused.

“She wants to be a gossip columnist. If you can make that happen, then I’d like for you to invent a time machine so I can go back and sidestep the bomb that turned me into a disabled veteran,” Rick said. “That way I’d still be a whole man doin’ what I love in the military.”

“I want to someday make cupcakes for my kids like my mama did for us. We always had something homemade for an after-school snack,” Cricket blurted out.

Jennie Sue was shocked that Cricket would admit that much in front of her. “I could go for one of your mama’s cupcakes right now, maybe even two or three.”

“To have kids, I’ll need a husband. Rick says I’ll never find anyone who can put up with my bluntness,” Cricket said.

Jennie Sue jerked her head around to face Cricket. “What’s the matter with that? At least people know where they stand with you and that you won’t turn your back on them.”

“Speakin’ from experience?” Cricket asked.

“More than once.” Jennie Sue nodded. “Now prop your foot up here on my knee and we’ll get this one done and go on to your fingernails.”



It was almost ten o’clock when Cricket said, “Thank you for everything, Jennie Sue. It’s past time for Rick to take you home. The news tomorrow will be that you’ve stayed out here later than usual and that he might have to make an honest woman out of you.”

Rick felt the heat start on his neck and climb all the way to his cheeks. “What a time to find out my sister has a sense of humor.”

“I reckon my reputation can handle another black mark,” Jennie Sue said.

“But mine can’t. Someone might think I was changing my mind about you,” Cricket said with her usual sarcasm as she tucked her crutches under her arms. “See you bright and early in the morning, Rick. I’m lookin’ forward to going to the market and seeing all the people.”

“Well, honey”—Jennie Sue’s tone was saccharine sweet—“when they find out that we spent the evening doing your nails, they’re going to know that we’re friends.”

“I’m not tellin’ anyone that, and if you do, I’ll take back the barely friends promotion,” Cricket said.

Rick couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not and didn’t want get into it with her. He turned to Jennie Sue and said, “Thanks for what you do for us. You ready to go home?”

“Not just yet. I’d like a glass of sweet tea.” Jennie Sue took down her ponytail and raked her fingers through her long, blonde hair.

Mesmerized by her actions, Rick wished that his hands were the ones tangled up in her hair. He blinked half a dozen times and finally got to his feet. “I’ll take care of the tea while you dump the water.”

She was sitting on the end of the sofa when he returned. He handed her a full glass of sweet tea and sat down on the other end. “I was surprised to hear Cricket admit that she wanted to be a wife and mother. She’s always told me that she wanted to be a gossip columnist.”

“Dreams change with age.” She took a long drink of her tea.

Rick set his glass on the end table, picked up her feet, and put them in his lap. He started massaging her left foot, digging deep into the heel.

“You’ve missed your callin’,” she groaned. “You should be a masseur.”

He finished with that foot and picked up the right one. “It was really nice of you to step back and let Cricket go to the market with me tomorrow after you’d already made plans to go. I’d offer to take both of you, but one would have to ride in the back of the truck with the produce.”

She nodded toward the other side of the room. “You could put that rockin’ chair over there in the bed of the truck, and everyone could say I was Granny Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies.”

Rick laughed out loud. “Well, you do have the fancy house. Do you have possums and raccoons livin’ out there?”