“No, no, I’m good. Just a few items.” Rebecca gripped the can tighter and reached on the shelf for another. She gave a little smile, for the first time the ma’am making her feel more like a bona fide grownup than an over-the-hill, washed-up has-been. “Thanks.”
He gave her a sleepy grin and sauntered off, and Rebecca rounded the corner and gave a quick little wave to the gossiping women, whom she saw do a double-take while she grabbed a loaf of French bread.
She passed the shampoo and hair aisle as she headed toward the pharmacy for Advil, and immediately a woman from Giveaway Night with an eighties-style pink fluffy scrunchie in her ponytail came to mind. Someone’s discarded hand basket rested nearby, and she piled her items into the basket, then snagged several packs of more modern-looking elastic bands, bobby pins, metal barrettes, and a few trendier headbands and headwraps—some sporty, some hippie—and popped them in the basket, too. On a whim, she grabbed a few mini hairsprays and multi-packs of plastic combsin shades of pink, pale green, purple, and blue. Basic black did the trick, sure, but these were women, and no matter whether they lived in a car or some warehouse by the river, they had to appreciate a few feminine touches. Some lip balm and body sprays went in the basket, too, which was now so heavy she had to grab it with two hands as she headed toward checkout.
“Hey, Becks!” The voice came from behind her, and she set her basket on the checkout counter and turned to find Josh Jamison pushing a piled-high grocery cart her way.
“Hey, Josh,” she said, then looked around for JJ. “Your son’s not with you today?”
“Ever try to bring a ten-year-old with you to the grocery store?” Josh made a face, and Rebecca laughed. “Nah, he’s with his Aunt Lissa and cousins. She keeps him in the summer for me.”
“That’s nice of her,” Rebecca said as she unpacked her items, set them on the belt.
“You and your Granny doing some sort of girls’ hairdo night?” Josh looked quizzically at all the combs and hair accessories as they went one by one down the belt toward the register.
She giggled. “No, these are for the Friday thing,” she waved her hand, suddenly shy about mentioning it. Just because you’ve helped once doesn’t mean you’re a ministry volunteer, Rebecca. You don’t want to go sounding like you’re some actual do-gooder. He’ll see right through it, or worse, start badgering you to do more.
“Cool,” Josh said simply, pushed his cart closer.
She inspected the contents furtively, noting mostly healthy stuff: several packs of meat and chicken, some vegetables, various boxes of rice and pasta and other things, with a pack of Hostess cupcakes perched neatly on top.
He followed her gaze to the cupcakes and laughed. “Still got a weakness for ’em, though now not every day.” He patted his waistline, which to her looked trim and athletic.
She made a face. “I used to love those things. I haven’t had one in years, literally.” She looked at him, realizing how much time had passed. “Maybe since that last summer here.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me. How could you not have had a Hostess cupcake since you were, like, seventeen?”
She shrugged. After high school, there was college in a new city filled with all sorts of eclectic tastes and cultures, followed by grad school and a series of internships, one in Paris. Why have a processed cupcake when she could have an éclair or cheesecake? It was like having your fill of Gruyere or baked brie, then going home to slug some Cheez Whiz from the fridge.
But Josh wouldn’t let it go. “Seriously, Becks. These things are like the fruit of life. Right, Bobby?” Josh said to the checkout kid, who nodded.
“I like ’em,” Bobby the clerk muttered, and Rebecca laughed and shook her head, pulled out her wallet, and paid.
“Don’t leave yet. There’s something I need to show you in my truck,” Josh said, and it was Rebecca’s turn to peer at Josh quizzically.
She waited and walked out with him, and he piled all his bags in the flatbed, then lowered the truck’s tailgate and climbed up.
“Hop on,” he motioned, a wide grin on his face, and she shrugged and followed suit, her own two grocery bags and leather purse going on the flatbed, too. It felt silly but rather fun to sit there, swinging her legs in her wrap dress and heels, as customers walking into the store gave them odd looks.
“Okay, close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he said, and she complied, listening to the sound of a box opening and plastic crumpling before something was set in her hands. She opened her eyes to see a Hostess cupcake, glistening with sugar and cream and fakey chocolaty goodness, in her palm. Another was in his own hand.
“Cheers, old friend who’s now back,” Josh said in a mock serious tone and held up the cupcake in salute.
“Cheers.” She giggled and took a bite.
“Good, huh?” he said around a mouthful, and she closed her eyes, nodded blissfully. Whatever had been coiled inside her began to slowly, warmly unravel.
“Insanely good!” It was true—they tasted like childhood and sugar and happy all rolled into one. Who needs Prozac?
“You’re welcome,” Josh said.
He gave her a grin, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
“You better share these with JJ,” she teased.
“If he makes me.”
They sat companionably, the afternoon sun warm on their shoulders. She swung her legs as they ate the last of their cupcakes. She was half-tempted to ask for another, but then she’d be forced to go for a second run tonight.
