He then turned to Garrison Jr. and instructed gently, “Please make Ms. Sylvester’s cheese steak an extra-large and wrap the four parts separately.”
Garrison Jr., seemingly relieved, set to work with great haste, making our sandwich with the swiftness of a man on an important mission. After a moment, I felt Scotia peering around Cletus, her eyes affixed to my profile. I ignored her. My heart was now racing for a different reason.
Cletus was standing exceptionally close, his big arm brushing against my shoulder. He still made me nervous, but the nervousness was different than before; based in excitement, not fear.
I’m not afraid of him anymore.
The realization dawned suddenly and sent a lovely warmth to my limbs. I wasn’t afraid of him at all. Although I recognized his brilliance, cleverness, and cunning, he was officially no longer scary.
Something had shifted between us the other night, when I’d brought the compassion cake and he’d somehow managed to arrange things with Billy. Or maybe something had shifted in me when I’d painted my nails yesterday and walked out of the house this morning with no makeup.
“How’s that sister of yours, Cletus? I haven’t seen her since she moved back to town,” Scotia stated out of the blue, breaking the not-quite tense silence that had fallen.
Cletus gave Scotia a benign smile. “Ashley is quite well, thank you for asking.” Then to me, he asked, “Jennifer, did you want potato chips or potato salad with lunch?”
“Um—”
“She should eat a green salad,” Scotia put in, her stare moving over me with displeasure. “I know her momma is worried about her weight.”
Heat climbed up my cheeks and I grit my teeth, my eyes falling to the floor. I hated that my appearance was up for public comment, not just on social media—which was one of the main reasons I hated the million or so followers there—but also with my mother’s friends.
Undaunted, Cletus cut in good naturedly, “Speaking of weight worries, Ms. Simmons, you might want to stick with the turkey breast and skip the ham and cheese.” Then he added on a whisper, as though he were telling her a secret, “Turkey has less calories per serving, and every little bit helps.”
Scotia narrowed her eyes on him, her mouth pinching, and asked with an air of intense irritation, “Is Ashley still living out of wedlock with that Drew Runous? I wonder how your momma would feel about her only daughter living unmarried, with that man in sin, bless her heart.”
Something flashed behind Cletus’s gaze as he glared at Scotia Simmons, something sinister. Meanwhile, Garrison Jr. placed the sandwich on the counter, his eyes wide as they bounced between the three of us. He backed away from our trio like one backs away from a rattlesnake.
Cletus collected our sandwich, the flash of sinister now completely hidden.
He turned from the counter, placed his hand on the small of my back, and responded to her rude question with an air of thoughtfulness. “Now that I think on it, I’m not surprised you haven’t seen Ashley since she returned. We do our best to shield her from ignorant, judgmental folks. After all, we want her to stay in town, don’t we?”
Not waiting for the woman to respond, he guided me forward. I moved where he led, too surprised by the audacity of his insult to say anything at all. He stopped us when we were across the store.
Pulling a twenty from his pocket, he handed it to Mrs. Bradly at the register and called back to Mrs. Simmons loud enough for everyone to hear, “Oh, yeah. Before I forget, Mrs. Simmons, Beau wanted to make sure your daughter Darlene knew he found her missing underwear in his GTO last week. I know she was fretting over the loss. Please let her know he’s just going to mail them back this time instead of swinging by the house.”
Mrs. Simmons turned a horrified shade of white and the deli fell silent.
Cletus gave me a small, conspiratorial smile, then to a gaping Mrs. Bradly he said with a wink, “Keep the change.”
CHAPTER 11
“The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed.”
― Charlotte Bront?
Jennifer
“Why’d you thank that horrible woman?” Cletus asked, unwrapping his sandwich. We were presently sitting at one of the public picnic tables just off old Cooper Road Trail. It was warm for October. I took advantage of the mild weather, opting to leave my yellow cardigan in my car.
“Who? You mean Scotia Simmons?” I asked, wiping my fingers on a napkin.
“Yep.” Cletus nodded, then took a big bite of his cheese steak.
“Did I thank her?” I tried to recall.