Page 38 of On One Condition

“Yay for no homework.” It’s all I can manage to say before Tootie continues.

“She said you have a nice butt, but you seem a little uptight. That she wouldn’t mind kicking your tires—whatever that means.” But her ghost of a smile tells me she thinks she knows exactly what it means. And regardless of how much I want to laugh, I’m a little uncomfortable having this conversation with a kid. “Oh, and she gives you two weeks before you run back to the city because you can’t handle things here.”

“Two weeks? That’s all? Good to know.” I glance at the house next door where Tootie pointed and see a woman standing in the window with a cell phone to her ear suddenly move out of sight. “It’s probably best if you don’t tell her that you told me that part about kicking my tires.”

“Okay. Then I guess I should also leave out the part where I tell you that we didn’t really bake these cookies ourselves. Mom bought them from Cedar’s Bakery so she had an excuse to come over here and talk to you herself. Guess I ruined that plan.”

“I’m glad that you did.”

“Is it true you’re here to fuck up our town?”

Christ. I cough over my laugh. “Who told you that?”

“Everybody who means nothing.” She shrugs and, somehow, I completely understand what she means. “It’s like adults can’t ever make up their minds. They want more jobs in town but complain when someone like you tries to make them. They want more people to visit but then complain when there’s traffic, or they have to wait too long for a table to eat at Bessie’s Diner. You adults are super confusing.”

“We are, aren’t we?”

“For sure.” She gives a definitive nod that has her pigtails bouncing. “So, are you?”

“Am I what? Messing up the town?”

“No. I don’t care. It’s not like it matters to me. I meant are you going to Connor’s too?”

“Who’s Connor?” My head spins with her constant change in topics. And also, why is everything in this town named after somebody?

“The man who owns Connor’s,” she says as if I’m an idiot.

My patience for talking to little people is about done. My sigh says as much and she just puts her hands on her hips to say the same. “What is Connor’s?”

“It’s where all the adults go to act funny and dance and . . . kiss.” She shudders. “Sometimes when Mom has to pick up friends from there, I get to go inside for a second. I can’t wait to be a grown-up.”

“Huh.”

“Yep. Huh,” she repeats. “Time to go cause more trouble.”

She skips down the sidewalk toward her house. “Hey, Tootie?” I ask so that she stops and turns to look at me. “Do you know an Asher Wells?”

Brilliant, Ledger. Ask an eight-year-old about her.

“Why?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“It’s a long story.” I give her a half-smile while feeling like an idiot. “I was just wondering if you did.”

Tootie angles her head to the side as she thinks. “The purple lady?”

“Lavender?”

“Same thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Yep. I know her.”

The kid runs at the mouth and the minute I want her to talk, she clams up. Fucking par for the course for me today.

“That’s all you’re going to give me?”

She squints at me as if she’s figuring out if she wants to tell me more or not. Almost as if she’s protective of the people who live here from outsiders like me.

I can respect that.

“She’s nice if that’s what you want to know. And super pretty. My momma is jealous of her legs but not jealous about what people say about her.”