“Because you’re human. She’s a snake in the grass. Everyone knows it.”
I take a sip of my coffee and fiddle with my apron. I don’t want to think about her. As much as I don’t understand why Matt returned this morning, it was nice to have something to get excited about. Even if it was only for a few minutes. But the jury is still out on him. It’s best if I don’t think about him either.
“How’s Pops?”
“Not good. He just gets weaker and weaker. There was a time he could get by without the oxygen. He only needed it if he was exerting himself or at night to sleep. But the cardiologist said his heart failure is getting worse, and he recommended wearing it twenty-four seven.”
Pops has terrible heart disease. His diabetes and fatty food choices have paid a toll. But I can’t ignore I probably haven’t helped. It had to be stressful raising me all on his own. Once Grandma Joan died, it was just the two of us. He’d worked hard, farming the land our mobile home sat on for years. But time hasn’t been good to local farmers in the area. He could no longer afford help. And he physically couldn’t do it on his own.
Thank God for Grandma Joan’s recipe book. I’d cooked alongside my grandma as a child, and Pops teased that if anyone could cook like her, it’d be me. Out of the kindness of his heart, Jo offered up the hot food area in the gas station, rent-free, and I started cooking up all of the Southern foods I grew up on. And I was shocked when we’d sell out, day after day. I was able to close up in time to go home and get Pops fed and off to bed. It was a win-win. And Jo said my cooking was bringing more customers to his station than he’d had in years. It was worth providing the food counter rent-free.
Sure, it’s not what I dreamed for myself. But truth be told, given my humble beginnings, I haven’t really allowed myself to dream. Until now, that is.
“Are you excited for the festival?” Jo asks.
“Am I? Oh, Jo. I’m going to win it this year. I can just feel it. That $25,000 grand prize is as good as mine. And then I’ll have enough to open a restaurant right in the middle of tourist row.” I’d heard through the grapevine that a local restaurant owner was moving inland and considering renting out the space. It was the perfect opportunity for me.
“I’m sure you’ve got it this year, Ellie. And you know you can count on me. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks. You know how much I appreciate you letting me set up shop here, don’t you? I never want you to think I wasn’t grateful for everything you’ve done for me and Pops.”
“You and your Pops are practically family.” Jo reaches over to squeeze my hand. “If anything ever happens…” Jo gets visibly choked up at the statement. I know what he’s trying to say. “You’ll never be alone, Ellie.”
“Oh, don’t. I’ll start crying, and then we’ll both be a mess.” I sniffle.
“Well, speaking of a mess.”
I look about the store, wondering what Jo’s referring to, and realize we’re the only two people here.
“That boy’s got it bad for you.”
“Who?”
“Matt.”
“Yeah, right.” I snort.
“I’ve got eyes, don’t I? There ain’t nobody in Candy Cane Key coming here for coffee. Nobody. They come for gas, or they come for your cooking. Nothing else. He’s crazy if he thinks we believed anything different this morning.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“What’s the story there?”
“There’s no story. He was a year ahead of me in school. Mr. Popular. You could usually find him slithering alongside Jennifer Jones.”
He raises his brow in understanding. “Jennifer Jones Hamilton, you mean.”
“Well, not back then.” Jenn had managed to marry one of the richest men in Candy Cane Key. Then she proceeded to drive him batty and took him to the cleaners when he wanted out. “How is it people like her always end up on top?”
“Depends on your definition of on top. Karma is a cruel bedfellow. Our life hasn’t been easy, but we lived it honestly and with gratitude.”
I pull out the little rock I painted with Jo years back and place it on the counter in front of us. A little frog wearing a crown sits atop a messy deep blue background.
“Good heavens. You still have that thing?”
“Of course I do. I rarely leave home without it.” Jo and I made gratitude rocks the summer my Grandma Joan died. He taught me to always be grateful, even for the things we couldn’t understand. That there was no room for good to enter your life if you weren’t grateful for what you already had.
He wraps an arm around me, squeezing me against him. “The guy that finally lands you is going to be one lucky bastard.”
