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“You should probably get out more,” he replied. “There’s a plaque on the gazebo.”
Bo returned then, plunking the soda on the counter with a hard thud.
“Youput that plaque there,” he said sternly. “And the only reason it’s still there is because nobody wants to have to pay to fix the wood where the screws are.”
“I know you’re just jealous, Bo. It takes a lot of air in your lungs to be able to blow that many bubbles.”
“I think that’s something I’d like to see,” said Willow.
With a smug expression, Dale slipped a straw in his Cherry Coke, took a sip, then winced.
“Bo. This isn’t Cherry Coke. This is regular Coke with cherry flavoring.”
“It’s the same thing,” Bo said with a slight growl.
“No. It is definitely not the same thing,” Dale countered. “Thisis a Roy Rogers. Big difference. Except you forgot the maraschino cherries on top.”
“Would you like a maraschino cherry, Dale? Wouldthatmake you happy?”
Dale paused as if this was his most important decision of the day, then with a single nod, said, “Yes. Yes it would. But make it three cherries.”
Bo sulked off into the back storeroom, probably in search of a jar of cherries. Dale slid the glass away from him, waiting for his drink to be garnished, and leaned one elbow on the counter, facing Willow with a weighty look.
“So,” he said resolutely. “What did you think of my email?”
“Your… email?”
“Yes. I sent you an email this morning regarding the job you posted on Craigslist. Took me all night to compose it.”
Willow had only posted the listing before she went to bed. She hadn’t expected such a speedy response.
“I… I’m sorry, but I haven’t checked my email yet.”
“Hmmm, I guess you were too busy. Understandable. I think you’ll find my application more than adequate. I have extensive experience in retail work, as well as juggling, riding a unicycle, a thorough knowledge of skincare, and I can play the bagpipes.”
“The bagpipes? I’ve never met anyone who played the bagpipes before.”
“Nor do you want to,” Bo said, returning with an entire bowl of cherries. “They’re loud and off key.”
“They aren’t off key,” Dale argued. “The droning sound plays continuously throughout the melody.”
He then addressed Willow conspiratorially. “Bagpipes are my secret to having lungs strong enough to be the bubble gum champion.”
Willow decided that made a lot of sense and rather thought she’d like to hear Dale play the bagpipes. Chewing bubble gum, not so much.
“What are your favorite songs to play?” she asked.
“Most pipers’ go-to isScotland the BraveorDanny Boy. But I like to play tunes a little less traversed.”
“Like what?”
Bo raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Here we go.”
“You could say I have eclectic taste,” Dale said. “Blue Suede Shoes, for instance. Also,SuavamenteBesa Meis on my list of favorites.”
“Thatiseclectic,” Willow said, trying to imagine those songs performed on bagpipes. “I’m afraid I don’t have a need in my store for a bagpiper, or juggler…”
Unless those skills could make a certain ghost go away.
