Page 26 of Sweet Summer

Connie heaves a heavy sigh, breathing out a whoosh into my ear. “Yes, they are. I’m putting out a call now. The guys are at a car accident near the highway so they may not be there for a while.”

Great. “What does ‘for a while’ mean?”

“Assuming you're not in a life-threatening situation?” Connie chortles.

I look around the bathroom. Unless my lotion wants to take me hostage, I’m not in danger. “No, I’m not.”

“Good. Then they’ll be by after they’re clear of thataccident. I’ll send Truck 41 over to assess the situation, and if anything else pops up, you can call back.”

She deserves an award. Those last few words almost don’t make it out because I’ll be darned if Connie isn’t dissolving into snorts and fits of laughter again.

“Thanks, Connie. Front door is open, so tell them they can come in.” I start to disconnect the call, but I stop, remembering one more thing. “Oh, and Connie?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Bless your heart,” I sing out as I hang up, knowing the use of those three words will have Connie wondering my true meaning for at least an hour. You see, in the South, “bless your heart” has multiple meanings; you just need to slot it in where you see it fits best. I sure knew what I meant, and that’s all that matters.

Looking around my tiny tiled cell, I have to trust someone is coming to help. I just pray my brother isn’t working on the fire engine today.

I look at my hand where it has merged as one with the toilet. I still can’t believe I’ve managed to do this to myself. Typical Monday morning, right? Only it isn’t, and I’ve got a case of the Monday blues like nobody’s business.

It started when I got up for my Monday morning team meeting, which we do for the newspaper over video conference each week. Only this week we were given the news that the physical office for the printed edition will be closing soon and the paper will be going digital only. Our editor-in-chief and owner of the paper, Morris Johnson, gave us the news with a heavy heart, and I was still digesting it.

It wasn’t in the cards for me to look for a new job this year. I’ve just hit my sweet spot with work; I have a column in the paper that I love and it’s kicked off a social media influencing side job that I never expected—I’m @alltheyummyfoodies with a following of 65 thousand that’s growingdaily, plus I get to meet and interview interesting foodies, chefs, and restaurateurs from all over on a weekly basis. Now, I’m nervous and, frankly, really scared all of that could go away.

Looking at the position I’m in now, though, maybe I’m getting what I deserve. It’s a theory I don’t really want to spend time with, so lucky for me my phone starts ringing.

“Hey, Ari! You free for a quick chat?”

Maisey Montgomery is one of my most favorite people in all of Lake Lorelei. A few years ago, after her mother passed, she took over as the owner of the Red Bird Cafe which was her mama’s pride and joy. She’s made a name for herself around the area for being a savvy businesswoman who has some serious baking skills—whether she’s baking cakes or whipping up pies, you’d swear they were all heaven sent.

“You’ve caught me at the best and worst time for a chat.” I quickly fill her in on my predicament, and Maisey doesn’t disappoint.

“Your hand is stuck in your toilet?” She’s howling with laughter. Actually howling.

I give her a minute before interrupting. “Are you done now?”

“Oh yeah, for the time being.” Maisey chuckles. “I guess you’re a hostage audience for me at the moment, so I’ll take advantage of that.”

“As long as you don’t tell anyone—although, Connie knows, which means…”

“…everyone knows by now. Oof. Well, you used to say you wanted to be the talk of the town. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Maisey needs to stop talking. “Shush, woman. Whatcha need?”

“Well, I have gone and done something crazy. I wanted to expand the Red Bird, but decided before I do that why not test the waters and see if there’s room for expansion, make surethat other people out there love the Red Bird like I do, like the folks here in Lake Lorelei do.”

And Lake Lorelei does love the food from the Red Bird. “That is great news! When my hand’s free, I’ll give you a fist bump of celebration.”

“After you’ve disinfected it. Anyway, I invested in a food truck, and it’s finally ready to be unveiled in a few days’ time.”

“This is more than amazing, Maisey, this is fabulous! A food truck is going to be so popular at all of the outdoor festivals and events in the area.”

“That’s exactly what I’m banking on. I’ve been working with Freya to plan a soft launch. She’s managed to pull some strings and get an interview with a local television station in Charlotte. They want to feature the food truck, and we thought it would be great to have it operating at the same time as the interview.”

I know her niece Freya, and I also know she is a shrewd and sharp social media strategist. “Smart move. Sounds like Freya’s on top of things.”

“She really is.” I can hear the pride swelling in her voice across the line. “She’s gone so far as to plan an event so that The Sweet Spot—that’s what I’m calling it—will be at the city park for a day. We’ll have the food truck pumping, the interview will be live, and I want to have a local influencer there who can help hype folks up. ”

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