Page 21 of With Stars in Her Eyes
“Why do I get the impression you’ve spent a long time fibbing about how bad your head is?” I scanned her face.
Courtney adjusted her hold on the pig. “Probably because you’re inconveniently perceptive and notice things.”
Jeannie cleared her throat. “Probablybecause Courtney has spent a lot of time doingjustthat. And fibbing’s a pretty way to say lying through her damn teeth to all the people who care about her.” Jeannie’s eyes flashed. “Glad to know Courtney’s got other people around her who are inconveniently perceptive.” Her phone began buzzing, and she stepped away to answer it.
“How dare you both imply such awful things about me?” Courtney shook her head.
“Just don’t want you to think you have to pretend everything’s all hunky-dory if you feel like your head’s about to fall off.”
Courtney’s head tilted. “Where are you from?” The suddenness of the question caught me off guard, but I weirdly liked the way Courtney was studying me. “You have an accent that sort of comes and goes, and I can’t place it.”
“I’m from Huntsville, Alabama. It’s my mama’s accent that I try to hide most of the time.”
“It’s stronger tonight.”
“Charmingly skittish piglets have that effect on me.” I scratched the piglet’s chin. “Most of the time it’s more subtle. I grew up around a lot of transplants, so they didn’t have strong ones either. And you? You said you’re from Connecticut?”
“I was born in Los Angeles, but I moved around a lot. It’s complicated. My mom was from California. Honestly, don’t have a clue where my dad’s from.”
“Military?”
Courtney shook her head. “Musicians.”
“Oh, that’s cool.”
“Fundamentalist evangelical musicians.”
“Significantly less cool.” I cringed. “Yikes.”
Courtney snorted. “I agree.”
“So what do you—”
“Bad news, gals,” Jeannie said. “Old Jack Cobb—my soil supplier—his truck won’t start. And believe you me, ain’t nobody wants me to call in help from my rascal of a stepson. With Marshall and his daddy both out of town, I think this settles it.”
“Settles…” I widened my eyes expectantly, hoping a plan was forthcoming.
“We’re bunking in here until Dewayne and his plowmen can clear the roads. Power lines are down all over. I wouldn’t want us risking the walk home even if it wasn’t for the whiney little brute in Miss Courtney’s pocket. Wind’s picking up.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Jeannie nodded toward the back. “I call dibs on the office since I’m—what was it you were probably going to say about me, Thea? Oh right, thatI’mancient. And my ancient back does require declaring dibs on that couch Samantha keeps in the office. We’ll divide up the picnic blankets we found and the things Miss Courtney brought back with her, and put all the cushions in the children’s section. This building’s well-insulated enough; it shouldn’t get too bad for one night. Don’t want to leave those candles burning now we have the lanterns. Seems like we shouldn’t add a potential fire to our troubles.”
Courtney and I stared until Jeannie made a small get-on-it gesture. I saluted. The plant shop owner’s response hovered somewhere between glower and grin, and I decided to take that as a win.
As snow pummeled against the windows, we got to work.
Jeannie Gallagher-Keegan missed a calling as a drill sergeant.
The bookstore turned into an emergency shelter in less than thirty minutes despite the occasional interruptions from the piglet, who I had discovered was wearing both a diaper and a hand-knit, avocado-colored sweater.
And yes, when I saw, I might have actually screamed due to the adorableness. Jeannie only grumbled for a minute when I pulled out my camera for a few photos. I didn’t miss the smile she was hiding under her gruff exterior. As she walked toward the office, she muttered something that might have been “No one could stand a chance against all those dimples” but I wasn’t entirely sure.
She hollered out a “Good night!,” leaving Courtney and me alone, and ten minutes later snores echoed from the office.
I gestured to the cushions in the children’s section. “Shall we?”
Immediate regret.
