Page 66 of Book and Ladder
“Balance? If that’s balance, I’d hate to see you on a tightrope.” Wade Mullins chuckles at his own comeback.
And on it goes while townspeople mingle with paper cups and spoons, occasionally stopping at the Rotary Club’s soft-serve stand or the youth baseball league’s popsicle wagon to cool their taste buds.
Margie Hensley approaches me. “It’s getting to be time for the judges’ tasting.”
I follow her to my seat on the grandstand. Everywhere I look—kids darting, neighbors laughing, bands playing—I feel the heat building despite the chill in the air.
It’s not the chili.
It’s the thought of sitting next to Daisy.
I’m pulling out my chair when Daisy approaches with another volunteer who points to the chair next to mine. Daisy turns to her, places her hand so it’s blocking her mouth and says something. The volunteer shakes her head and says, “Sorry, we can’t.” I’d bet the fire engine on the fact that she asked to be seated anywhere but directly next to me.
Daisy squares her shoulders and strolls over to the chair, pulling it out and then turning to face me.
“O’Connell.”
“Clark.” I nod once to greet her.
“Listen. You may be my neighbor. You may have to check my smoke detectors. You might even have to occasionally pick up your sister’s orders from Moss and Maple. But we are not friends.”
“I’m well aware.” The words scrape out harsher than I mean them to.
“Good.” Now she nods once, only hers is more definitive.
My chest tightens. Why does it matter so much if she dismisses me?
The urge to say something—anything—to try to set the record straight swells in me and dissipates.
Mercifully, Mayor Briggs steps up to the microphone. He announces each of the judges by their name and position in the community. We each wave when our name is announced.
Then he says, “Chili samples will be presented anonymously in numbered cups. Judges will score on the categories of aroma, consistency, flavor, spice, and appearance. Townspeople will have one more hour to continue voting for People’s Choice while the judges complete their evaluation of all the entries.”
I glance at Daisy. She’s staring out into the crowd, a kind smile on her face as her eyes connect with someone she knows. I remember a time when she smiled like that at me. I wonder if I’ll ever be a recipient of one of her smiles again.
Chapter 19
Daisy
Thinking of you is a poison I drink often.
~ Atticus
My smile falters as Vanessa,a woman clearly determined on snagging herself a fireman husband, approaches the three firefighters at the judges’ table. She won’t rest until one of them slips a ring on her finger—and she doesn’t care which one. At this rate, I half expect her to douse her own kitchen in gasoline just to get carried over the threshold.
“Patrick,” Vanessa coos. “I thought of you while I was making my chili.”
Her brows lift and drop in one seductive motion, her eyes widen. It’s ridiculous, really. Yet even I have to admit the pull of her practiced seduction—sexy, alluring—and she has every man at the table, plus a few passing by, under her spell.
“I thought you were thinking of me,” Cody says to Vanessa. He’s obviously calling her bluff, not flirting.
“Mmmm.” Vanessa touches her lipstick-red lips with her finger. “I think of you all the time, Cody. It was Patrick’s turn.”
She turns her attention to Patrick and makes eye contact with him. True to form, he doesn’t back down. His gaze is as intense as ever, but this time, it’s focused on the man-hunter in four-inch heels.
“I used a family recipe,” Vanessa says in an overly-breathy voice. “I hope you like it. I love cooking for a man.” She reaches across the table with the finger that touched her lips and runs her pointer along Patrick’s knuckles.
So bold. If I said half the things she says, I’d have to pack up and relocate from sheer mortification—which I may have to do anyway if Patrick’s family has their way.
