2. Junior Rankins is roasting plenty of oxtail, pork butt, and spareribs, with sides provided by localClementine cooks. There will also be food stalls, including the perennial favorite funnel cakes. Bring a big appetite!
3. Bo Wilson is cordoning off a kiddie area with a bouncy castle, crafts, and face painting. A big thank-you to the student volunteers from Clementine High School for helping out with the lil’ darlin’s.
4. Straight outta Flippin, Arkansas, the Flippin Biscuit Boys will again be providing the music this year, complete with fiddle, banjo, washboard, and jaw harp. For the tenth year in a row, Ms. Eugenia Pickles will be giving square dance lessons, so take advantage of that if you desire. Be ready for a boot-scootin’ good time!
5. Per tradition, the last musical number of the night is a Sadie Hawkins one, so, ladies, you still have time to figure out who you’re going to ask. Don’t be shy now!
6. Finally, have fun, be safe, put on your best smile, and leave your bad attitude at home, ’cause you know Sheriff Thistle and Mayor Pancake won’t abide any trouble.
Remember, summer officially begins sundown after the hoedown. See ya Saturday!
“Seb?”
He jumped at the sound of Bo’s voice.
“Sorry.” Buford’s nephew was standing in front of the desk. “I knocked a couple of times. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” Sometimes he got so caught up in his writing that he tuned out the world. He stood and shook Bo’s hand, then gesturedto the chair Tyler previously occupied. “Good to see you,” he said, sitting back down. “It’s been a while.”
“Sure has.” Bo sat and placed his folded hands over his portly stomach. “Between the hoedown and wedding plans, I’m plum busy, and you know how summertime is on the farm. Lots of work to do up until after the harvest.”
“How are the crops this year?”
“Looking good so far, as long as the weather holds. We could use a drenching rain, though.”
Bo’s words were normal enough, but Seb could tell he looked a little off-center. He definitely wasn’t here to shoot the breeze. “What can I do for you?” Seb asked.
Bo ran his palm over his bald pate. “I have a big favor to ask.”
“If I can do it, I will.”
“It involves Vivian’s stepdaughter, Kalista Clark.”
“I didn’t know she had a stepdaughter.”
“I knew about her, but we’ve never met. Viv and Kalista’s father, Raymond, divorced a long time ago, but she and Kalista kept in touch for several years after and then lost touch again. It’s a long story, but Kalista’s coming to visit for the summer. Viv’s missed her. I don’t think she realized how much until Raymond called.”
Seb nodded. While he’d known Bo almost all his life, the man was thirteen years older than him. Everyone in town was shocked when he announced he was getting married, not just because he was Clementine’s oldest bachelor but also because Viv was a former model who lived in California. Not exactly the type of woman one would peg as farmwife material. But she’d proven her mettle when she moved to Clementine earlier this year after they’d gotten engaged. She lived in Bo’s small, fifties-era house, and Bo stayed in the bunkhouse with his farmhand on the backforty of the property. The relationship worked for them, and they were getting married later this summer.
Bo adjusted his left suspender over a red short-sleeved shirt. “Kalista arrives tomorrow, and Viv’s going to help her find a job so she’ll have something to do while she’s here. I thought I’d try you first, though.”
“You want me to hire her?”
“I was hoping you could. See, Kalista’s lived a pampered life. Spoiled rotten is what Viv says, even though she loves her. She says that deep down Kalista is really sweet. It’s just hard to find that sweetness when it’s swimming in vinegar.”
“Does she have any journalism experience?”
“I reckon she doesn’t. I know this is a big ask, but since we’re family...”
They weren’t, not technically. But in Seb’s book, they were in every way that counted. He didn’t believe you had to be blood related to be family. “I’d be glad to help out, but I don’t have anything—” He thought about the abandoned route. “Does she know how to drive?”
“She’s eighteen, so I assume so. I don’t know for sure.”
“We have a delivery route open. If she wants to apply for it, send her over. That’s the only job I can give her right now. We’re low staff as it is.”
“Things aren’t getting any better?”
Seb shook his head. He could admit that to Bo. “It’s hard on newspapers all over, especially since everything’s moving to digital. You know how your uncle felt about digital.”
