Twenty-six
Ray Goodwin’s delivery truck arrived at the market right behind Trent and Brent Craig, who reported for work at three o’clock on the dot. For the time being, I put aside my visions of death and intrigue.
Holly headed for her red Jag while I stood out in back, surveying the unloading. “Hunter called for you,” she said. “Twice. He said it was important. My man Max is home tonight, then he’s leaving again tomorrow on another business trip. We’re going out to dinner.” She giggled like a new bride. “Then we might try some of that water that’s making the rest of this town so sex-minded.”
“Very funny,” I replied before turning my attention to Ray, who looked neater than usual. He wore clean jeans and had shaved nice and close, a rarity for him. “New woman in your life?” I asked him.
He gave me a Mona Lisa smile. “Maybe. Why? What gave me away?”
“I can just tell, is all.” I changed the subject. “I’m still searching for Manny’s bees,” I told him. “Have you seen anything different? Someone with a bunch of new bees? Or a beekeeper with more hives than usual?”
“You’re still on that kick? Besides, from what I hear, nobody wants you raising honeybees in town. Isn’t that why you got rid of yours?”
“Right, yes, but—”
“How about me and you go out together Friday night?”
That stopped me in my tracks. Actually it was more like full impact with a moving train. Ray, apparently, thought I was his new woman. Oh, no. One of the worst things about being single was deflecting unwanted attention without destroying any fragile male egos, and I didn’t want to be the one to reduce Ray’s.
Usually, I had some kind of warning. This one took me totally by surprise.
“Uh, I’m busy Friday, but thanks for asking.” Ray opened his mouth to say something, and I rushed in before he could speak. “The whole weekend I’m busy.”
“Okay, then, I’ll check back with you next week.”
“Okay,” I said. I’d worry about it then. “Thanks for asking.” That was dumb, thanking him, which he would certainly take as encouragement, but I was flustered. “By the way,” I said, “could you stop at Grace’s sometime this week, go into the honey house, and get whatever honey you need to fill orders?”
Ray stared at me like I had two heads. “You mean, go into the sacred honey house by myself?” he asked.
I smiled at that, remembering Manny’s main rule. Most of the time he was easygoing, but this particular one was a requirement. Or else. And that was that no one was allowed in the honey house unless one of us was along. It was Manny Chapman’s territory, and while he was alive I had respected his wishes.
Competition among honey producers was friendly, but as Manny said, not that friendly. “Grace isn’t speaking to me at the moment,” I said, explaining why I was breaking the rule this time. “She might take a shot at me if I do it.”
“Isn’t the honey house always locked up tight?”
“She’ll let you in. Just make sure you let her know that she’s getting all the proceeds from the sales.”
“Aren’t you splitting sales from the business?”
“Not anymore.” I went into the store through the back door.
Under normal circumstances, I would have gone for a long, soothing kayak trip on the Oconomowoc River tonight after work, but these weren’t common times. Besides, I had no floatable transportation.
After careful consideration, I rejected the idea of sharing my recent thoughts with Johnny Jay until I had more to go on. Instead, I called the police department to find out when I’d get my kayak back. I’d already decided to trade it in. I’d never be able to use it again without seeing Faye’s dead, staring eyes or some other unpleasant images.
No one at the cop shop could give me an answer. They said they’d call when it was released.
Ray’s date offer was on my mind. Not in the let’s-give-it-a-try way, because Ray has never been on my list of potentials and never would be. His sitting in my backyard had been almost too much personal closeness for me.
But there were a few things I really missed as a single, unattached woman with no current prospects. They were:
? Knowing I had plans for a Friday night, even if it was something simple like a burger at Stu’s.
? Not having to think about how everybody else seemed to be coupled up. I’d never noticed how many lovers held hands until I was alone and didn’t have a hand to hold.
? Having a warm body to cuddle with while watching movies on a rainy day.
? Mainly the human contact—a hug, light fingers running up and down my arm, a foot massage, naked contact with someone special.
That last bullet point was part of my ongoing romance fantasy. The special someone part, not just the naked part.
I thought about what Holly said as she left the store, that Hunter had called twice looking for me. I considered returning his call but I still suffered from total embarrassment and didn’t have anything to say to him. I was done apologizing to other people for the day.
I called Holly instead.
“I’m sort of in the middle of things,” she said, quietly.
“It’s only four o’clock.”
“Love is timeless.”
“One quick question, then. Why did Hunter and I break up in high school?”
“Isn’t that something you should already know?”
“I can’t remember. Everything about the man screams
‘perfect,’ but if that’s true, why did we split up? I’m drawing a complete blank.”
“You dumped him.”
“I did?”
“You said he was too small-townish, that you wanted to see the world, and you were leaving the bumpkins behind.”
“I said that?”
“Yup. You broke his heart.”
Jeez!
“Did you return his phone call?” Holly asked.
“Not yet.”
“He said it was important. Don’t forget.”
After we hung up, I thought about my youthful need to get away from Moraine. Not that I ended up traveling the entire world. Far from it. I only made it to Milwaukee, forty miles down the superhighway, but compared to my hometown of Moraine, Milwaukee was the world.
What would have happened to my life if I hadn’t left Moraine? If I hadn’t met Clay in Milwaukee and married him? If Hunter and I had stayed together?
Analyzing the past is a dangerous, slippery slope leading into quicksand, so after I closed the store and went home, I stopped in the garden, pulled a bunch of fresh red beets, and spent the evening in the kitchen, creating my special version of beet soup, which would go into this month’s newsletter. I added ginger this time for a walk on the wild side.