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He nodded. “If you stop, I’ll cry. A lot.”
I drank the watery-but-no-one-knew-any-better beer, and I ate my fill. And when a stocky man in a Georgia State T-shirt asked me to two-step, I politely declined. He almost argued, but Jed gave him sort of a no-doubt-terrifying-to-the-male-of-the-species territorial glare, and Mr. Georgia State scampered away.
Two more, I thought. Two more, and I could go home. With the plaque locked up tight in Jed’s truck, I was well and truly relaxed for the first time in days. It was the same relief and euphoria I’d felt after finding the candle. I was getting a little bit addicted to that feeling, and it was leading to some dangerous thoughts.
Those thoughts focused on Jed’s lips and how they’d felt against mine earlier that day. And how relatively easy it was to sit here in this crowded bar and talk about nothing at all with him. I didn’t feel that constant nagging pressure to say the right thing or use the right fork. Because Jed had seen me having a possum-fueled panic attack wearing nothing but a towel. After that, there was nowhere to go but up.
After a bit too much Hank Williams, Sr., and far too much good food, Jed drove us back to the motel. The car park was dark, the night moonless under a cloudy sky.
“I had a really nice time,” I told him as we walked to the doors.
“Try not to sound so surprised,” he chided gently.
“I’m not surprised! All right, I’m a little surprised. Thank you for driving me down here and helping me. Thanks.” I leaned forward and meant to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute, and I managed to catch his mouth instead. I gave an exasperated little huff. “Really, again?”>Hubert’s wife, Mindy, was a tiny powerhouse of a woman with a halo of wild blond hair and eye makeup so complex it took me a while to locate her pupils. She was clearly the brains of the operation, such as it was. And I was distinctly uncomfortable with the way she was eyeing Jed. But I was starting to think her threats to sell the plaque on eBay were a bluff, because they didn’t appear to have a computer. And given the length of Mindy’s nails, I doubted she spent much time typing sales information.
“Can I get y’all anything?” she drawled, her voice smooth and silky as custard.
“I’d appreciate a sweet tea, ma’am,” Jed said, plucking at the hat in his hands. Mindy turned to me, expectant.
“Oh, please don’t go to any trouble,” I said, trying like mad to keep the grimace from crinkling my face at the thought of liquid diabetes.
“No trouble at all, shug,” she said, teetering toward the kitchen on see-through plastic wedge heels. Hubert gave us an awkward smile, settling back into his Barcalounger.
“What did she call me?” I muttered out of the side of my mouth.
“Shug,” he said. “It’s short for ‘sugar’; it means she likes you. Or, at least, she likes the money you’re about to pay her. If she called you by your first name, she’d be indifferent. If she called you Miss Leary, she’d have already written you off.”
“Good to know.”
Mindy came toddling back into the living room with two hot-pink plastic tumblers of iced tea. She put a little extra wiggle in her step when she served Jed’s. He offered her a bland smile and took a long drag from his glass. How was he able to do that without gagging? But I was ever so grateful that her attention was directed otherwise, because it meant no one noticed when I poured my tea into her potted plant. Which turned out to be plastic.
Mindy shot a sultry look over her shoulder as she disappeared into the back of the house.
“Well, we’re real grateful to you for being so understanding about Mama Ginger’s wedding gift,” Jed said carefully as Mindy carried a gift bag with a cabbage rose pattern into the living room.
“You’re lucky you called when you did, ’cause we were going to use this as a backup ashtray when Mindy’s mama comes to visit,” Hubert said, his tone magnanimous.
I nodded. “I appreciate your restraint.”
“Course, I couldn’t just hand it over,” Mindy said pointedly. “Not without some sort of fair trade. After all, it was a wedding present. There’s sentimental value.”
“Right, sorry,” I said, digging into my purse. I handed her the envelope of cash I’d prepared to save myself the awkwardness of counting it out. I pressed the envelope into her hand. Meanwhile, Jed started a conversation with Hubert about “the Dawgs” and their chances in the playoffs. I didn’t know what sport they were referring to, but Hubert lit up at the chance to discuss his beloved Dawgs and engaged in a spirited debate. Mindy’s attention could not be swayed.
“Of course, with you payin’ us, that would only mean we broke even. Still leaves us without a wedding gift.”
“You want me to buy you a blender?” I asked. I was grateful to get the plaque back, but these people were getting on my last nerve.
“No, at this point, we’ve got the whole house set up,” Mindy said. “It would be nice to have a little extra cash, in case we wanted to splurge a little.”
“Would a hundred be enough?” I asked flatly as I plucked a bill from my wallet.
“Well, we are pretty close to Aunt Ginger,” Hubert hedged. “She’d probably want to give us at least two hundred.”
I slapped the two extra bills into Mindy’s hand with a humorless smile and took the bag from her hand. The plaque tumbled into my hands, wrapped in a wad of pink tissue paper. I had a hard time containing my giggle. I didn’t want Mindy to decide I was too happy with my purchase and owed her another hundred.
The cool weight of the plaque was wondrously solid against my palm. Jane was right; it was rather blobby. The acorn-cap pattern barely stood out under the patina of aged clay. But even if it smelled of old pennies, it was unchipped and intact. That was all I cared about. I whispered, “Thank you.”
“Happy to help.” Mindy smiled, tucking the cash into her bra. “Y’all are welcome to stay for supper, if you’d like.”
