Uncle Mike's eyes narrowed. "I think you and I are going to have a little chat."
I smacked my fork down on the table and started to stand. "Enough, already. I can't breathe for all the testosterone in here, and… Oh."
I fell back into my chair, put my head in my hands, and moaned. "Oh. What about Brig?"
Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby both sighed, and Jack just looked at us.
"Who?"
"Brigham Hammermill the Fourth," Uncle Mike told him, his face making that 'just bit into a lemon' expression.
"What the hell is a Brigham Hammermill? And why are there four of them?"
Aunt Ruby narrowed her eyes. "Language."
"Sorry. I forget sometimes how to act around civilized people," Jack said, flashing her an apologetic smile which not only made her forgive him but apparently caused her to believe he needed more pie. She nudged an apple pie toward him.
"Hey!" Uncle Mike said indignantly.
I tapped on the tabletop. "Can we focus? Jack, Brigham Hammermill the Fourth is a guy I met at the Swamp Cabbage Festival maybe five years ago. He drove his very expensive car—Ferrari?" I glanced at Uncle Mike, who shook his head.
"Lamborghini. You can't trust somebody who drives a foreign car." He folded his arms across his chest. "Thank goodness you saw the light and drive a Ford now."
"Yes, yes, we get it, Uncle Mike." I turned back to Jack to explain. "Anyway, back to Brig. He walked up to me at the jams booth—I was watching it while Lauren Rollins, she owns Lauren's Deli, you know? Anyway, she had to run to get something out of her car, and I watched over the booth, because Mrs. Frost's hip went out on her when she was at archery practice—"
"Little old Mrs. Frost, who is probably ninety years old? The swamp cabbage pie baker?" Jack's eyes widened. "At archery practice?"
"You've seen that crossbow she carries in her purse. Anyway, so Lauren was on her own, and I couldn’t leave the jams unattended because of what happened the year before—"
"Oh, right, the time Rooster Jenkins brought that mule with him, and it ate the jams and the booth too," Aunt Ruby said, nodding.
"No, that was the year before that," I told her. "I'm talking about the year Darla Holliday promised to reveal her recipe for her famous Lemon Lush, and Mrs. Quindlen and Granny Josephine got in a wrestling match over the last copy and knocked the booth over."
"Never did get that recipe," Uncle Mike grumbled. "I love that Lemon Lush too."
"Anyway, the jams booth can't be left unattended."
Jack, whose eyes were glazed at this point, nodded. "Sure Sure. And this Hammermill character comes in how? He was in the wrestling match with Mrs. Quindlen and Granny Josephine?"
"Please. They'd demolish him," Aunt Ruby said, laughing.
"Anyway," I repeated. "Mr.'I'm Brigham Hammermill the Fourth, you can call me Brig, everyone must admire me' walked up out of the blue and started hitting on me."
Thatwoke Jack up. "He did, did he? Where does this Brig live now?"
"I turned him down flat, and it seemed like he wasn't used to rejection, because he started sending me unwanted gifts. Flowers, candy, a bracelet—"
"Those were actual diamonds, Tess," Aunt Ruby interrupted. "I still think you should have kept it or sold it. You could have bought Lou a lot of cat food with that money."
I laughed. "Right. But no, in spite of my aunt's materialistic tendencies, I didn't keep any of it. I gave the flowers and candy to the Dead End Senior Center, because I wasn't going to spend my money to return them to him, and I mailed the bracelet back certified mail with extra insurance, signature required. After that, I didn't hear from him again."
Jack gave me a steady look. "Do you think he might be reminiscing about old times, with the festival coming up again?"
I threw my hands in the air. "No. Maybe? No. it just doesn't make sense. For one, it's been years. Two, it's a long way from flowers and candy—"
"And jewelry," he said, his voice low and calm.
"Yes, okay, and jewelry, to amputated fingers."
