Page 34 of Small Town Boy

She nods, not saying anything else. The buzz of the crowd surrounds us, filling the space our silence leaves. I should say something, try to make conversation, but I’m not any good at this part. Despite the thousands of questions rattling around in my brain to ask her. There’s so much I want to know. What I don’t want, though, is for her to feel like I’m interviewing her, peppering her with one question after another.

“Sorry ’bout that, y’all,” Dolly says, coming back to us. “That one’s a real pain in my ass. Where was I? Oh, right, specials. The French toast and pancakes, but if you’re not feeling breakfast, we got chicken ’n dressing."

“Chicken in dressing?” Bronwyn asks. Dolly nods, pen poised, ready to take our orders. “What kind of dressing is the chicken in?”

Errr…what?

Dolly and I both look at her quizzically, not understanding the question. Our confusion must be clear, because Bronwyn continues her inquiry.

“Is it a ranch? Or are we talking like a balsamic reduction?”

Oh God, she thinks dressing as in…

“Balsamic reduction…” Dolly repeats, managing to hold in her laughter. Something I fail at.

A large, boisterous guffaw erupts from me. I can’t hold it in, even though I wish I could. This is one that has clearly been lost in translation.

Bronwyn sits back, not sure how to take my reaction. I can see her hackles starting to rise, her defenses at the ready.

“Stuffing,” I tell her in between bouts of laughter. “Up north y’all call it stuffing.”

“Who the hell calls it dressing? It’s stuffing. It’s even on the box! Stovetop stuffing, not Stovetop dressing!” she defends.

“This ain’t Stovetop, promise you,” Dolly says with a wink.

Bronwyn shakes her head, turning back to the menu. I can’t tell if she’s pissed, embarrassed, or something else, but she’s silent for a long moment, avoiding looking at both Dolly and me. After a long moment, my stomach ready to stage a coup it’s so hungry, we place our order—praline French toast for me and two eggs scrambled with cheese, a side of turkey bacon, and rye toast for her. Both of us ignore the subtle face Dolly makes when Bronwyn orders turkey bacon.

“I’m getting regular bacon, aren’t I?”

“Nah.” I shake my head, happy she’s moving on from the dressing incident. I shouldn’t have laughed that hard, and am thankful she doesn’t seem to hold it against me. “Kenzie’s dad is on a strict diet due to cancer treatments, and has been ordered to eat turkey bacon, so Dolly keeps it on hand for him. Although I think he might be the only person in this town who eats it. Begrudgingly, at that.”

“Well, now there’s two of us.” She forces a smile, but it falls quickly. “Promise not to tell anyone about that?”

“’Bout what? The dressing thing?”

“Yeah, that’s…” She blows out a heavy breath, making her bottom lips warble. “That’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Secret’s safe with me.”

I smile, trying to reassure her. Nodding, she looks away, the interaction clearly still weighing on her. I need to change the subject. Fast.

“You enjoy your first Hickory Hills farmers’ market?”

“I did. I always loved going back home in Boston. Everything was so much fresher than in the supermarket. Not to mention all the cool artists who show up. I wasn’t sure what to expect here, but for a small town, you guys really show up.”

“That we do. Just wait ’til you see the other events this town puts on. You missed Rhythm and Brews, so the next one is Thanksgiving. We got both the Turkey Trot and the Christmas Tree Lighting.”

“That’s what Willa said. We’re working on revamping the Turkey Trot. Hayes Gives Back is going to be a major focus, and starting right here in Knox county is the best way to do it.”

Bronwyn comes alive as she talks, her passion for her job pouring out of her. If I was impressed before, now I’m amazed. I’m rapt as she continues, talking about obtaining additional sponsors so the entrance fees for the race can be part of the donation made to the school. The more she talks, the more I want to listen.

“I originally was thinking that agriculture would be the best fit for the event, and incorporate some kind of food drive. But then, after talking with Anton, there is already so much he donates and earmarks to keep for local businesses and such. So, I think it makes more sense to focus on local education. I know Rhythm and Brews benefits the high school, so we’re going with the elementary school.”

“How can I help?”

“Willa already volunteered you and your brother to help set up.”

Of course she did. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. I keep this comment to myself though, because this meal isn’t about Willa. It’s about Bronwyn. The last thing I want to do is focus on anyone but her.