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Betty nodded. “She’s obviously not ready to talk about it yet. These young people never are.” She turned keen eyes on to me and laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “If you need to talk, we’re here.”
“Or if he needs a kick in the pants to get his head out of his ass, we’re here,” Eddy added delightedly. “My boys were as hardheaded as they come, and even they asked for help.” She glared when Elizabeth and Helen laughed. “Oh, shut up.”
That only made them all laugh harder and louder.
“You don’t have to tell us anything. Yet. Later, we’ll expect full details.” Eddy winked and took a step back, grinning at my shocked look.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I told them again even though it didn’t seem to matter what I said.
“Whatever you say. We’ll be at our usual table, waiting for the jam.”
“You want it all now?”
“Since our table is free now…” Betty began her explanation but let it trail off with a shrug.
“Fine.” The ladies were a handful individually, but as a group they could test the patience of a saint. But they were loyal and loud, something a small business owner like myself appreciated, so I comped a couple jars and some samples of new items.
“Afternoon, Reese. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
I looked up with a smile for Walker. “That’s because you’ve been busy conquering the world—at least Tulip County, from what I hear.”
He snorted a laugh that was so unlike him, or had been before he’d gone and fallen in love. “My wife exaggerates.”
“Brags,” I corrected. “What can I get you?”
“A rib dinner and a chicken dinner, with extra biscuits and some of that bacon jam the whole world is going crazy over.” He shook his head as if he didn’t understand his own desire for it, which made me smile. “I also want to offer up some unsolicited advice.”
I froze and looked up again, waiting for some warning about Jackson or a reminder of my past. “Okay.”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Just that I’ve noticed you’re doing well selling the sauces, and you should think about doing this the right way. With paperwork. Give me a call when you have time and we’ll figure it out.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. It seems more difficult than it is, but so does bacon jam. I’m not complaining, just consulting the expert. You.”
I smiled. “Point taken, counselor. I’ll set up a meeting soon. I promise,” I told him and disappeared into the kitchen. They were all well-meaning, but both customers had managed to give me even more to think about.
Did I even want to become a saucier? A professional sauce person? I didn’t even know. I liked it now, because I could experiment and fail without much risk, but when there were contracts and expectations, would the creativity flow? Would I enjoy it?
“How should I know?” It wasn’t something I’d thought about until recently, and now it was something I had to think about.
Just like Jackson.
My thoughts bounced from this new business venture to my newfound feelings for the rest of the day, and by the time Maven locked the doors, I had no answers. No clarity.
With Aunt Bette’s memory on a permanent vacation, I had no reason not to take on more professionally. And as long as I didn’t know where I stood with Jackson, I had no good reason to back out of becoming the sauce queen of southern Texas.
Even if it meant more work, which meant longer hours, which meant absolutely no shot in hell of settling down, getting married, or having kids. None of which I was close to now, without the sauce queen title. Or paychecks.
My thoughts were too jumbled to come up with anything resembling a reasonable solution or a firm decision, and I was too exhausted to make a list or a plan. Somehow, I managed to make my way home without hitting anyone or anything, which I was thankful for especially on a day where it seemed like everything was determined to overwhelm me.
I was in a tired funk, and nothing but a hot shower and junk food would help. The thought put a little more energy in my step as I climbed the stairs that led to my own little slice of peace. As I came closer to the door, a movement on the porch startled me and I stopped. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Jackson’s familiar voice sounded in the darkness and his shape was hard to see, but semi-visible. “Your security light is broken. I’ll fix it for you.”
“Uh, thanks. Is that why you’re here?”
“No. I heard about the bacon jam craze at the restaurant and figured we could celebrate your success,” he said, holding up a tub of butter pecan ice cream. “And drink away your exhaustion?”
A smile touched my lips. “That sounds perfect, Jackson. Thanks.” I didn’t know how he knew it was just what I needed, I just knew that I was touched that he cared enough to do something about it.
