Page 18 of Just Business

Penny didn’t actually tell me to come to her house, but we also didn’t agree on how we’d meet up to get groceries. Settling onto her swing, I pull out my phone, shooting a quick text letting her know I’m out here.

While waiting for her response, I stretch out both arms and tilt my head back, noticing the ceiling of her porch is painted sky blue, and in one corner there’s a sunshine painted with a smiley face, like maybe a child drew it.

My phone buzzes and I glance down to see a text from her.

Penny

Let yourself in. I’m freshening up and then I’ll be ready. The front door’s unlocked.

I stand and wiggle the knob. Sure enough, it’s unlocked. Small-town life, huh? Growing up in Warbler, Texas, I kind of remember what that was like. It’s a rural area, and it felt small, like everyone knew each other and their business, including my sordid story.

Aunt Ashley and Uncle Brad did all they could to give Tyler, Cassie, and me the best life possible, including a safe house with good neighbors.

I’m instantly wrapped in warmth when I step inside. Splashes of colorful art decorate the walls, and houseplants fill every available window. Her floors are worn wood that’s probably original to the house and there’s a staircase leading to the second floor directly in front of me. To my left, I spot an upright piano in what must be the formal dining room. Hmm…I wonder if she plays or if it’s just for looks.

Making my way into her living room, my eyes are drawn to the bookshelves surrounding a brick fireplace. The shelves are full of books arranged in a rainbow pattern. Her couch is covered in throw pillows, and draped over the arm of the sofa is the fluffiest orange and white cat I've ever seen. I approach with tentative steps in case the cat is skittish. But it looks up at me with a curious little face, its eyes wide and unbothered.

“You’re a good buddy, aren’t you? You want a little head scratch?” The cat eyes me curiously while I baby-talk. Growing up, my aunt always had a couple of outdoor cats and something about them reminded me to be gentle in life. I’m afraid that somewhere along the way, some of that gentleness slipped through my fingers and got lost.

When I take a seat on the worn leather couch, it stretches with a big yawn before hopping onto my lap, settling in for those head scratches I mentioned.

I’m still baby-talking when I hear an amused chuckle. Penny’s standing in the doorway, watching me tell her cat what a good girl she is. I guess it’s a girl? Based on the pink collar I assume it is.

“What’s its name?” I ask as she moves into the room. The big fluff ball hops down from my lap and scampers over to her, looking for a second helping of love. She leans down and scoops the cat into her arms, a loud purr starting immediately.

“Hername’s Honey. She was a stray when I found her. My grandfather was a beekeeper, and one day he left a jar open on his back porch. When he came back out, this tiny kitten was dipping its paw in the jar. She made such a mess, and the honey took forever to get out of her fur. You ever tried bathing a cat?” Penny chuckles to herself, and I shake my head at the thought.

She takes a seat on the other side of the couch, and I notice she’s changed into a different Dolly shirt from the one she was wearing earlier. I nod my head to it. “I take it you like Dolly Parton?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Touché.”

“She’s an absolute genius. She was surrounded by all these men who only saw big boobs and bigger hair. Meanwhile, she wrote two of the greatest songs in history over the same weekend.”

“Actually, I didn’t know that. What a treasure,” I respond.

“A national treasure,” she corrects, grinning over at me. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Oh, I absolutely wanna know a secret.” I lean toward her conspiratorially. “Are you an heir to her fortune or something?”

She laughs, waving me off. “Don’t I wish. No, back in high school, my best friend Josie and I got grounded for staying out past curfew. We were so mad that we wrote a letter to Dolly asking her to adopt us.”

This pulls a laugh from me. “Did you hear back from her?”

“Nah. It would have been fun to hear from her, though, wouldn’t it?”

I smile and nod in agreement, letting Honey’s loud purring fill the silence.

“Should we make a menu before we go?” she asks. “I’m a planner. I like knowing what to expect. But there’s a slight hitch in your plan.” She cringes. “I’m the pickiest eater you’ll ever meet. I have the palate of a five-year-old. Can you work with that in your culinary expertise?” Her tone is teasing, and she’s obviously expecting me to renege on my offer to cook for her.

“I’ll have you know, my aunt Ashley’s who taught me to cook. Nobody cooks like her. I learned from the best,” I say smugly, knowing I’ve one-upped her again in this “just business” deal she thinks we’ve made.

“You’re not what I expected, Austin James. You’re full of surprises. As Walt Whitman said, you contain multitudes.”

“Nah, I like to think of myself like Shrek. I’ve got layers like an onion,” I reply.

“Or a parfait! Everybody likes a parfait!” she quips back, catching my reference. Our eyes meet, and we both burst into laughter. It’s such a foreign feeling, laughing like this, that I shake my head, looking at her.

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