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TUCK
There was notmuch to do in Aveline on a Saturday night, especially with a girl like Lettie. I was sure she was used to lavish parties and entertainment, and the most we had to offer here were the monthly town meetings that usually ended up with Mr. Fitzgerald accusing Mrs. Templeton’s dog of pooping in his yard and an occasional new shake flavor at the diner.
I was nervous. More nervous than I had ever been. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had no idea how to act around a girl like her. I had been on dates before—plenty of them—and I liked to think I was fairly smooth, but with Lettie, I felt like a fish out of water. It was as though I had never been on a date before, because Lettie was unlike anyone else.
She might as well have been from a whole different world, and that fact alone gave me mixed feelings. What was I even trying to do, asking her out on a date? On one hand, I was sure she was going to be disappointed. She would realize that I wasn’t half as sophisticated as every person in her inner circle. I didn’t even know how to talk to someone so… refined. But on the other hand, she had agreed for a reason, right? Even if it was just to piss her parents off, it gave me the in I needed to whisk her off her feet. I liked that she didn’t know anything about me. There were no misguided judgments nor any pity because I happened to be Tommy Anderson’s son.
I liked that she didn’t know to feel sorry for me yet.
“So, what do you guys do for fun in Aveline?” she asked as we walked down the street side by side. I had nothing in particular in mind for the date, and when I’d gotten home yesterday after asking her out, I’d cursed myself for not having more time to plan. Normally, I would have waited until there was a movie playing in the town square or take her for dinner somewhere other than the diner, but I’d spent most of the evening worrying about what we would talk about and how I would protect myself from seeming like a small town fool, and I had completely spaced on planning anything at all.
I glanced down the street and spotted a mother lathering sunscreen on her child when, suddenly, the perfect spot came to mind.
“Well, there is one place. Do you want to go somewhere with me?” I asked her.
She eyed me, narrowing her gaze. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Can I trust you? Because I don’t want to end up on some Dateline Special where the people all talk incessantly about how my ‘smile lit up the room.’” She paused and scoffed, “Do you ever wonder if that’s true? They say it abouteveryone,and you know dang well some of them were just mediocre at best.”
I chuckled, I had never really thought about it until now, but I was starting to think Lettie was onto something. “To answer your first question, yes, you can trust me.”
She eyed me skeptically. “Yeah, but if you were a creeper, you would say that anyway, don’t you think?”
“Probably.”
She shrugged as though she had decided to take the chance. “And my second question? What’re your thoughts on all these people with wonderful smiles?” She forced a wide grin.
“Personally, I don’t think there is any way there are that many people that are so ‘full of life.’”
She laughed and brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yes! See? It just doesn’t make sense. Where are all the normal people who were murdered?”
“‘Billy was pretty okay. He wasn’t anything really special,’” I started.
Lettie jumped in. “‘He didn’t have many friends, and not one person looked when he walked into a room.’” We both laughed, and she paused. “They probably don’t bother making documentaries about them.”
“Probably not,” I replied.
We both laughed and then grew quiet for a moment before I cleared my throat, trying again.
“So, you never answeredmyquestion. Do you want to go somewhere with me?”
She looked up at me and bit her bottom lip. “Yes. I definitely want to go somewhere with you.”
I opened the door to my truck and asked Lettie to wait for just one second while I ran into the bakery. When I came out with a box, I saw the smile on Lettie’s face.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. She clasped her hands in front of her excitedly.
“Yes, I got you an apron.” I held up the box.
Lettie laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. “No seriously! Tuck! Is that a box full of treats?”
I feigned confusion. “Like dog treats?”
This time, she nudged me playfully. “Oh Mylanta, Tuck! Just tell me! What’s in the box?”
“Hm, for a rich girl, you sure are lacking manners. Where’s the ‘please?’”
Lettie held her hands under her chin. “Pleeeeease!”
I slowly opened it, Lettie’s eyes growing wide and eager. When it was cracked just enough for her to see the tip of the glazed surprise, she squealed.
