Ford looked uncomfortable, and I opened my mouth to protest, not sure how to distill our relationship, such as it was, into something I’d be okay describing to the other woman. Ford spoke before I could find the words.
“She is, Miss Flora. Very special to me.”
As he spoke, any uncertainty he seemed to be feeling earlier vanished while mine grew. I didn’t know what Ford and I were to each other. That he thought I was special wasn’t unwelcome, but it was one more confusing thing to add to the day.
“Could you hook us up with a big bag of pralines? Charlotte is about to perish.”
“You’re the one who’s too hungry to wait for lunch.” I rolled my eyes and the woman behind the counter laughed.
“Just like a man, trying to shift the blame somewhere else.” Her words carried a bite but there was no malice or bitterness in her expression. It might be hard to stay bitter surrounded by all the toasted sugary goodness, but I had a feeling it had more to do with the woman than the candy. She radiated warmth.
She grabbed a palm-sized waxed paper bag from under the counter and filled it so full of pralines, there was no way to fold the bag closed.
“I’m going to give these to you,” she said, handing me the bag. “I’ve got more faith inyour ability to share than his.”
“Thank you.” I took the bag, careful not to jostle any of the nuts loose. I bit into one of the pralines, crunching through the sugary caramel to sink my teeth into the toasty meat of the pecan. I barely managed to stifle a groan of pleasure and when I glanced up, Miss Flora was watching me, clearly pleased with my response.
Beside me, Ford shook his head, either in an attempt to clear it or in response to the other woman’s comments. I couldn’t tell. When he reached for a praline, I shifted my body to shield the bag from him. Behind the counter, Miss Flora laughed again.
“Well, I’m wounded, and your faith is clearly misplaced,” said Ford, feigning outrage.
“Don’t be silly. You know she’ll let you have most of them, but some things are worth waiting for. Surely you’ve learned that by now.”
“That I have.”
His words took on extra meaning, and I offered him the bag, wanting to get rid of the nuts along with the weight of whatever else his comment implied.
He plucked a praline from the waxed paper sack and popped it in his mouth, unaffected by the internal conflict I wrestled with.Figures.
“These get better every time.” He pressed a few bills into the woman’s hand and snagged another praline.
“If that’s true—and we both know it is—maybe you shouldn’t wait so long before you come see me again.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He crossed his heart with his finger, and she shook her head.
“See that you don’t. And Charlotte, make sure you’re not a stranger either. Don’t wait for him to bring you back. You can’t rely on a man to give you what you need.”
“You’re going to give Charlotte the wrong impression. She’s going to think you don’t have any use for men.”
“Don’t be silly. Your woman can make up her own mind. And Idon’thave a use for most men, my Henri excluded. He was one of the good ones. You might be too,” she said, tipping her head to the side to consider Ford. “Eventually.”
“I don’t know whether to be wounded or proud.” Ford placed his palm briefly over his heart before reaching for another praline.
I bit into another sugared nut and tried to figure out how I felt about theyour womancomment, and what if anything to do about it.
––––––––
CHARLOTTE WAS QUIET for the ride back to her place, and I worried I’d pushed her too far with all the stops. I hadn’t intended for things to take on such a stroll down memory lane quality. That part just happened, but I couldn’t say I minded it either. Miss Flora was right. Charlotte was special. I’d never gone to her shop or any of the other places we visited with another woman. I’d never wanted to share that kind of time.
It wasn’t the experience—not exactly. I loved the sensuality of being with a woman. Food was an obvious extension of that. But going from place to place, visiting people I’d known most of my life, people who’d known me as a boy and seeing myself with Charlotte through them, made the differences between the way I felt about her and the way I’d felt about other women that much clearer. There was no comparison.
Of course, none of that mattered if I scared the woman off as soon as I realized what she meant to me.
I parked the car in front of her house, grabbing the bags from the backseat, along with a bottle of Barolo I’d brought from home. Charlotte still held the rumpled sack of pralines. We’d made a dent in it, enough that she’d been able to roll the waxed paper tight over the pecans.
“Everything okay, cher?” I asked, following her up the path and through the front door.
“Why was Miss Flora the only one you paid?” She set the pralines on the counter and started to pulled the paper deli packages from the bag.
