Chapter 20

Paul’s turn:

Long day -- I’m gonna need a shower, preferably hot. Gets a little cool-ish out here in the winter. The breeze doesn’t help things. One of the guys – a local – on the job says “nuthin’ between West Texas and the North Pole but a barbed wire fence.” He said ‘bob-war’ when HE said it, though.

Arriving at the trailer, I stepped over to Jordy’s house to check any mail at “our” box on the front porch of Jordy and Mimsy’s house. Pfft. Advertising crap in the box -- dunno why I bother. I turned to go back, when I heard the screen door creak open.

Jordy stepped out and said, “Paul, you got a minute?”

I nodded, and he said, “Your little redhead is stirring up some stuff. Have you been over to Mimsy’s shop?”

I said, “Nope, not yet. What’s she up to now?”

He smiled and said, “Damnedest thing -- she’s got Mimsy making MONEY, and people are starting to show up. She found a 50 year-old record player and some old Frank Sinatra records. Scratchier than hell, but she got it playing all that old crooner stuff, and a bunch of little old ladies LIKE it. Who knew?”

I chuckled, and he told me, “It gets worse. She found an old toaster -- looks like a fire hazard waiting to burn up. Must date back to the Hoover administration. She posted pictures of it on eBay, and sold it online for $145.”

I said, “I do apologize, Jordy. Want me to settle her down?”

He replied, “Actually, I’d like to keep her here. She’s a hoot! First time that place’s made money since I let Mimsy open it as an antique store.”

“I guess I need to go visit the place and see what my wife’s up to during the day.”

“You need to do that. They have some interesting things, odds and ends dragged up from old homesteads and estate sales when somebody’s grandma passed away. You’d be interested in some of the old tools. I know I like that part. I’m not much on costume jewelry and dinnerware and stuff, but tools ... Well, historical perspective and all that.”

I grinned. “She didn’t mention the toaster yet.”

“Ask her,” Jody laughed. “Making money! What a hoot!”

We left each other laughing. I opened the door to the trailer, walked in, thought about ... Oh yeah. Pot of red beans soaking. I turned the fire on under an empty pot and tossed in a bit of sausage we’d cut the previous evening. Let that start browning and giving up some fat, then toss in a chopped onion, let that sweat in the sausage grease, then the beans went on top of it. Salt and pepper and garlic completed the prep for dinner – red beans and rice. I’d start the rice cooker when Barb showed up. By the time it would finish, the beans would be done

And so would the redhead and I.

“D’ya know I missed you?” she asked, her words soft, still a little breathless from our recent collision.

“Almost as much as I missed you, I see. I love you, darlin’.”

“Well, you should,” she smiled. “I may have resurrected Mimsy’s junk emporium.”

“I talked with Jordy about that. He’s surprised. First time it ever MADE money.”

“Oh, you gotta know ... Mimsy loves it. People drop by all day to talk, occasionally somebody brings something in, even less occasionally, somebody buys something. Today we had a retired couple from OHIO come in.”

“She doesn’t advertise...”

My bright partner nuzzled me. “There’s a thing about her in the little town flyer thingie. That’s it.”

“Well, if you’re up to it, you can do ‘er a page on eBay.”

“Thought about that. Or a little website. Of course, SHE says she knows nothing about that stuff, so if we set it up know, who’s gonna maintain it?”

“Y’know you can do that sort of thing from anywhere on the internet, right?”

“Good point,” she said. “I should know better. I could do that. We’re not talking about coding a new Amazon.com here.”

I love how this girl turns a phrase. Writer, indeed.

The ‘writer’ had previously informed Jody and Mimsy of the availability of red beans and rice for dinner, so we ended up bringing two pots over to their house to couple with Mimsy’s quick salad and Jody’s ‘thank God for real food’, a statement which got him an exaggerated glare from Mimsy.

They’re a pleasant couple to dine with. Conversation ranged from the project that Jody and I both worked on, to Mimsy’s shop and Barb’s surprise participation. We had a good meal, finally taking our empty containers back to the trailer.

A kiss inside our door. A plain, comfortable kiss, just me and her making a little physical contact. Her eyes glittered. No, we didn’t start stripping. Healthy sex life, though, that allowed for interests outside the attendance to, as Barb wrote, ‘one’s sticky bits’.

We both hit the keyboards, stories unfolding. Mine is still an escape from the real world. So is Barb’s, and we’re in two different directions.

“Princess Donabella’s having thoughts, Paul.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

“Teenaged girl thoughts. She’s been ripped from HER century to the twenty-first, and she’s been rescued by this guy who looks a lot like YOU and she’s having thoughts.”

“And she’s a redhead, too.”

A mild harumph. “We’ve had this conversation. She’s Hibernian royalty. Gotta either be blonde or redhead. And you said redheads are special people.”

“Mine is. But, baby, you can’t get too far down the road you and I have traveled. Your target audience is young adults.”

“So I’ll talk about feelings and curiosities and thoughts. Not explicit. And no actions. You and me? I shudder to think about who OUR target audience would be.”

“You’re the stuff of fantasies, Barbakitten.”

She slapped her laptop closed. Stood up. Started stripping, laughing. “You said the magic word. Shower, then bed? Or bed, then shower?”

I laughed. “My crazy love, who says we have to choose only ONE?”

Barb’s turn:

So we’re at Mimsy’s shop when this nice-looking fortyish lady walks in, says “Hello, Mim, how’s it going?”

Mimsy didn’t frown from seeing her. “Hello, Katy. Going pretty good, really. What brings you here?”

“We’re cleaning out my mom’s house. Just wanted to see if you wanna take some stuff.”

“Sure. We’re actually SELLING things since Barb started helping.”

Katy scanned me. “I don’t remember seeing you around. I’m Katy.”

“I’m Barb,” I said. “Good to meet you. I’m not from here. Southwest Louisiana, actually. My husband’s working that new facility north of town.”

“Oh, that’s good. Didn’t think you were here for the scenery.”

“It is kinda dry and sun-bleached,” I replied. “Has a sort of magic one has to develop an eye for. Like today. Overcast. North breeze. I can picture the gulf. The waves pushed flat with a north wind, grey as far as the eye can see. Pot of soup on the stove...”

“Very descriptive,” Katy said.

“I’m kind of a writer. I’m getting published in January.”

“Wow!”

“If,” I said, “I get this last chunk to the editor this week.”

“And she’s in college,” Mimsy added. Mimsy’s my fan.

“MIT,” I said. “Remote learning. They’re doing me in math. I haven’t settled on a major yet, but math is a good place to start.”

“Do you think you could tutor?” Katy asked.

“Uh, I don’t know ... I’m, well, kinda bent. Sometimes I have problems dealing with new people.”

“Well, if you did, I know a couple of students that might benefit from a little boost.”

“Lemme think about that.”

After Katy left, Mimsy told me “You could charge a little something to do tutoring. But you never talked about ‘bent’. You seem perfectly normal to me.”

“I’m on the autism spectrum. Used to have real problems in school but my grandparents pulled me out to home-school me and I sort of took off academically. I’m better than I used to be as far as dealing with people I don’t know, but part of my coping mechanism is to limit my exposure.”

“That’s something. I mean, you jumped right in here with me.”

“I perceived you as a good person. Sort of did that with Paul when I first met ‘im. Good people. I get a feeling and I go with it.”

“You can’t always trust those feelings,” Mimsy said. “There are people who are very good at fooling others.”

“I know that. But it worked with Paul and it worked with you, so I’m on a roll here.”

So here I am bragging about my Spidey sense and late this afternoon it went off. Mimsy had just gotten up to go to the restroom when the door opened and this guy walked in. High school? Yeah, this is Texas, football is on par with religion to a lot of people, replacement for it with a lot of others, and this guy’s got the requisite letterman’s jacket in the school colors, a big football, and a two-digit number.

I’ve not been out of public school long enough to forget the worship accorded to football players in school. This one, tall, shaggy blonde hair, blue eyes, and upon seeing me, a broad smile, would be accorded “Grade A Prime” among a lot of females, especially schoolgirls.

I, however, hold a different scale of ‘prime’.

I guess I was supposed to be stunned by his visage because I didn’t immediately swoon or something.

“Hi there! I’m Kelson MacNeil. I don’t know you...”

I am still polite, even though I see ‘getting hit on’ signs flashing.

“I’m Barb Richard. Haven’t been here long.”

“I haven’t seen you at high school.”

“I don’t go to high school. I’m in college. Remote learning right now.”

“Ohhhh! College girl!” His grin was starting to look a bit predatory.

I waved my left hand. “And married, too. Life is good.”

“I bet,” he grinned. “I didn’t see that ring. You look too young. I was gonna see if you wanted to hang with me...”

Okay. I got this. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Married.”

Now he’s fishing. “If you wasn’t married. I mean...”