The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(39)
“There’s a real famous soliloquy about violence that people think glorifies militarism, but I think has more to do with Heinlein’s own views on moral philosophy, especially about how only veterans should be able to vote for a military intervention.” He paused. “I think what I love about science fiction is how it’s always just ahead of reality. Heinlein dreamed up this world of an all-volunteer, highly trained force in a time when our military was mostly conscripted.”
Alice couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She nodded instead.
He turned the book over in his hands, a smile touching his lips. “And the very best authors insert little nods to history, so even in this futuristic war, he’s sprinkled in World War I and World War II references, which a lot of men in his time caught and appreciated. Like my Granddaddy. He loved Heinlein. Maybe not so many readers catch it now, since the study of military history isn’t very popular.”
Alice cleared her throat. She hadn’t felt this out of her depth in a long time. Charlie nagged at her to read fantasy, but Alice had never seen a reason. But the way Paul explained it, the stories were as relevant now as they were sixty years ago. Maybe more.
He seemed to notice that she had nothing to say and frowned, weighing the paperback in his hand. “It sounds kinda strange, doesn’t it?” Then he snapped his fingers and said, “Well, it’s just like Beau Geste, really, with the themes of personal responsibility, never leaving a man behind, and doing the right thing even when it involves tremendous personal sacrifice.”
“Oh!” Alice saw all the details start to fall into place and she nodded. “I think I know what you’re saying. And it’s really odd you should mention that book. I’ve talked to more people about Beau Geste in the last few days than I have in ten years. It must be coming back into popularity.”
He was silent for a moment, carefully placing the Heinlein back on the stack. “I’d better get some breakfast. Sorry again for―”
Bix burst through the door. “I was down at The Red Hen and Eric came in, caterwauling that you dumped him for that ScreenStop owner. But I told everybody it was impossible because you can’t stand the guy.” Bix seemed to see Paul at the same time he uttered the last words, right as he pulled up close to the desk. He turned, his straw hat askew and his green raincoat misbuttoned, and said, “Well, good mornin’, Paul.”
Alice rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
“Mornin’, Mr. Beaulieu. Nice to see you again,” Paul said.
“Call me Bix. So, the rumors are true?” Bix nudged his hat up and gave Paul a calculating look. “Let me tell ya, we keep a close eye on Miss Alice here. She don’t have a lot of family. We’re all she got. You think it’s all sweet sugar now, but there will be rules and expectations. None of that bossin’ her around, tellin’ her which lipstick you like, and not to wear red, and how she needs to exercise.”
Paul’s lips were twitching. “I wouldn’t ask her to change a thing. She’s perfect just the way she is.”
Alice was in the middle of forming a protest but the words died in her throat. He was placating Bix, that was all. But the words seemed to reverberate in her somewhere, like the ringing of a bell, sending out little ripples of surprise and happiness.
Bix continued, “And her store comes first. You get in between her and this shop, and it’ll be the end of you.”
An awkward silence fell and Alice stared at her feet. Everything Bix said was true. Especially the shop part. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Her shop and his store, her town and his business. They were at odds, no matter how many compliments Paul sent her way or how many bookish conversations they had.
“Duly noted, sir.” Paul looked like he got the message. He nodded to Alice. “Thanks for the tip on breakfast. You two have a good day.”
Seconds later he was gone, the tinkling of the bell like a post script to their conversation. Alice stood there, staring at the door. She’d felt more emotion in the past hour than in the past month. And it had been a pretty rough month.
Bix unbuttoned his coat and hung it behind the desk. “Well, I can’t blame ya. I told you to find a man, not a boy. Even before the fisticuffs, I’d say he fit the bill. Not just because he runs that big company, either. You get the feeling he’s worked hard to make it in the world and he doesn’t walk around complaining. He gets the job done.”
“Bix, you’ve got the wrong idea. We’re not dating. He just came in at a bad time. He was looking for directions to a good diner. And I don’t approve that kind of behavior, no matter what people will say.”
“Not dating? You could have fooled me. I seen the way he looks at you. And if you’re not, why’d he take out his aggression on Eric? The guy got it good, one side of his face was already swellin’ up by the time he made it to The Red Hen.”
She wondered why Eric decided to run down to The Red Hen. Any man who’d just been beaten in a fight should have slunk off home so no one saw a thing. Waving a hand, she turned toward her desk. “Doesn’t matter. Something Eric said.”
“And it had nothing to do with you?” Bix was honestly confused. “Paul doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who cares if someone’s tryin’ to jerk a knot in his tail.”
Alice cleared her throat and settled at her desk. She shuffled a few stacks of paper and gave Van Winkle a pat. The kitty raised his head and blinked, then went back to sleep. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “Well, to be fair, it involved both of us… about Paul renting the apartment above the shop.”