Page 4 of Beneath Southern Stars

Once we’re inside, I set Steve down and he resumes his afternoon laps while I move to the kitchen for a snack. When I get to the sink to wash my hands, I pause. Well, heck. No wonder the man looked at me with so much confusion. I’m a mess. Sure, I could wear an apron or maybe be a little more careful when I’m working but dirt doesn’t bother me. Even when it is deep in my cuticles and all over my clothes.

Scrubbing my hands, I watch the dirt slide down the drain and my cell phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Laney, girl! Can you hear me? Is this working?”

Uncle Freddy talks as though he’s an elderly man. He’s twenty years older than I am, not five decades.

“Of course I can hear you. Where are you?”

Familiar sounds of rock and roll music in the background are a clue that there is likely a bar involved. Good for him. He’s sacrificed so much and deserves to be living his best life.

“Grabbing some grub in a little beachfront bar. Hawaii is the shit, Laney.”

I laugh and prop my phone up and switch to speaker so he can catch me up on things while I put together my snack. If it’s mid-afternoon here, it’s still morning in Hawaii. See, living his best life. When my parents died, my grandparents took custody of me but it was Uncle Freddy who made the big sacrifice. He came home to Magnolia Grove and was here for all three of us. My gran and granddaddy were never the same after losing their only daughter. In many ways, neither was Uncle Freddy. When I went away to college, he finally began living his life, but it wasn’t until I came back home that he started taking these big surfing and fishing trips.

“Tell me what’s new in town. I’m sure there’s some sort of gossip.”

“Isn’t there always? Actually, I’ve been working on a few things in the greenhouse and haven’t been to town in a few days. Someone new arrived next door today.”

Groaning, he asks, “Partiers? They better not mess with you. Call Boone if they do. He’ll come over and have a talk with them. If he’s not home call Declan. He’s a scary bastard when he wants to be. I shouldn’t have left. Maybe we need to get another dog. No offense to Steve but he’s not exactly going to take down a grown man.”

“I love your tangents. Have no fear, I won’t need to call in the troops to save me. First and foremost, I’m capable of handling things myself. Besides, it’s a family. Steve has already fallen inlove with the daughter. If anything, they’ll be calling for help because of him.”

Speaking of Steve, he’s now curled up in his bed with his favorite stuffed fish. When he’s done with his beauty sleep, we need to have that long talk about boundaries and rule following. Not that he’ll listen. He’s his own man, my little fur baby.

Relieved to hear there should be no shenanigans coming from next door, Uncle Freddy shares with me a few stories from his travels. I enjoy every single one but won’t lie that I’m not relieved when someone calls his name and his attention shifts. A female someone. I don’t need to hear any of that and end the call.

While I’d love to be like Steve and take a little nap, I’m going to push through with a Dr. Pepper and a little time with my hands in the dirt. I have another few days before I need to start pulling for holiday orders. This is the best part of my business. Not just the flexibility of my schedule but mixing my love of science with the simplicity of gardening. I know how blessed I am to have found success in an industry that isn’t mainstream nor is it understood by most.

I slowly walk to the greenhouse, listening for the sounds of those sweet giggles to greet me from next door but I’m only met with silence. Maybe Steve’s not the only one taking an afternoon siesta. I cross the threshold of the greenhouse and flip the lights, the blooms greeting me with their beauty.

Chapter Three

Laney

“My goodness,Laney Whitfield. How are you, dear?”

Oh for goodness sake. Ms. Linda knows how I’m doing. I saw her this morning at Jitterbug Coffee before coming to Zoey’s Treasures to help with the Small Business Saturday crowd. Maybe to her three hours feels like forever. The non-stop parade of customers has made these last few hours feel both like an entire day and five minutes. Strange how retail work does that to a person. With a smile on my face, I muster up the manners instilled in me since birth and greet her like what she asks makes perfect sense.

“I’m well, thank you. It’s been busy so far.”

She looks around and hums as she takes in the number of customers scattered through the small store. Zoey’s Treasures is an eclectic shop that always draws in people from the surrounding towns on big sale days. Working alone and for myself has its high points that’s for sure, but what I love most is that it allows me an opportunity to help out friends at their businesses. Whether it’s helping out Zoey on a busy day or covering a shift for a sick barista at Jitterbug, it gives me the social interaction and stimulation I need but my own work lacks.

“That’s great news for Zoey. Raising those girls on her own is tough, watching her find success is wonderful. And your business, Laney? How is that going?”

I continue fixing the clothes on the rack but still give Ms. Linda eye contact. “It’s going very well, thank you. It’s the busy season for me as well. Horton Hotels increased their order, so I’ve been working extra hard.”

Another hum and she doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. “I hear Dean’s got some guys finishing up a project at your place. You sure are busy. What with the Jubilee in just a few weeks. Plus your uncle being out of town. I worry you’re taking on too much, dear.”

To an outsider, this is a simple conversation between neighbors. Ms. Linda was good friends with my gran and was often at the house for book club. Book club was a cover for the real purpose of gathering on our back deck. Gossip. While I am a whiz with the complexities of botany, Ms. Linda is an expert in the art of small-town gossip.

I smile and nod when appropriate as she chatters on about my friends and fellow townspeople as if I don’t live here too. With each passing minute, dread builds in my gut. This is my first year as the Holly Jolly Jubilee chairperson. One guess who held the position before me. Yep. Ms. Linda. Over thirty years in the role, we were all shocked when she announced her retirement. Mostly because there would be no Jubilee without her. And because she’s not one to relax. Down time is not something I would associate with Ms. Linda.

Zoey catches my eye from behind the register, her eyebrows almost to her hair line. I shake my head, letting her know I don’t need saving and give Ms. Linda my attention once again.

“Speaking of the Jubilee—” Were we talking about the Jubilee? I guess we are now. “Are you sure you won’t need additional help?”

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