Page 33 of Where It All Began
She made herself useful playing hostess to the crowd and introducing herself to every stranger there.
Phoebe was rearranging the three, five, and seven bean salads in order of bean count when a woman in striped culottes and a black tank top approached. Her hair was dark and huge like a soap star’s. A peace sign charm bracelet jingled on her wrist. She walked with the confidence of a person who knew absolutely everything about everyone.
“Phoebe, darling! How wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, opening her arms.
“Okay. Hugging when we meet.” Phoebe was wrapped in a death grip.
The woman pulled back. “I’m Mrs. Jillian Nordemann, first lady of Blue Moon,” she announced grandly. “Your cousin Gwendolyn and I were college roommates.”
It made sense that Gwendolyn and Mrs. Nordemann had connected. They each wore their own badges of weird. Phoebe’s weirdo second-cousin Gwendolyn played the tuba at great-uncle Art’s funeral and collected cat ceramics. Mrs. Nordemann had turned scheming and meddling into a full-time profession.
“Mrs. Nordemann, it’s so lovely to finally meet you.” Phoebe greeted the woman who had successfully manipulated John into believing Phoebe was a he.
“Now, I want to hearallabout your stay so far. Has John been welcoming?” Mrs. Nordemann hooked her arm through Phoebe’s and began a slow turn around the yard. John spotted them and glared at Phoebe as she smiled sweetly in his direction.
“He’s been absolutely lovely. I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor this summer,” Phoebe declared.
“I am so happy to hear that,” Mrs. Nordemann said hiding her smugness behind a satisfied smile. “How has he been entertaining you all the way out here?” She gestured broadly at the fields and hills.
Phoebe kept her responses guarded and left out all mention of any brewing sexual attraction. She also took great pleasure in seeing every ounce of color drain out of John’s face when he spotted them walking arm in arm. The burger he’d been about to slide onto Hazel’s bun landed in the dirt. She winked at him and went back to her conversation.
Phoebe filled Mrs. Nordemann in on second-cousin Gwendolyn’s latest news—she was now breeding miniature pigs in the backyard of her duplex in Scranton, much to the dismay of her neighbors—and Mrs. Nordemann fed her the gossip on every person they passed.
Farmer Carson? He owned twelve pairs of overalls so he only had to do laundry once a month.
Betty and Linus Fitzsimmons? Rumor had it they were growing a special “crop” in their basement.
Minnie Murkle? She took a part-time job at the Snip Shack answering phones and sweeping up hair and spreading gossip without her husband knowing. Mr. Murkle preferred wives that stayed home and had dinner on the table every night.
“How does the whole town except for her husband know?” Phoebe asked.
“Blue Moon is good at keeping secrets from one or two people at a time as long as it’s for a good cause,” Mrs. Nordemann winked. “Now, what are your plans after summer?”
“Thanks to John, I should be able to graduate this summer. I’ve already had an interview with the USDA before I came up here. They’ve got a few openings to fill in August, and I’m hoping I get one.”
Mrs. Nordemann stopped in her tracks. “The USDA? Where would you be working?”
“Oh, it could be anywhere. Washington, D.C. to start most likely.”
“But why not stay here, dear?”
Phoebe laughed until she realized Mrs. Nordemann was not pulling her leg. “Here? I went to school for six years for this degree. I need to use it or my parents will brutally murder me.”
“Well, why don’t you just marry a farmer? I’m sure a good husband would appreciate his wife’s education,” Mrs. Nordemann suggested brightly.
Phoebe tripped over her own feet nearly taking a header into a fence post. “Uh. Um. Married?” she squeaked.
“Marriage is wonderful, and just think what an asset you’d be to your husband’s farm! Look at John, for instance. Why you and your education could do him a world of good what with him living out here all by himself.”
“You think I shouldmarry John?”Phoebe wasn’t feeling so well anymore. The potato salads that she’d sampled sat like bricks in her stomach.
Mrs. Nordemann giggled and then proceeded to flatten Phoebe like a steam roller. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to marry him if you didn’t have feelings for him. You do, don’t you? I mean,of courseyou do. I can tell by how you two look at each other. Married women can see such things. The smoldering glances, the whispered words of love.” She sighed dramatically. “Itisterribly romantic, isn’t it? Young love. And he’s so ready to settle down. It’s just perfect timing.”
If John had shot her smoldering looks, it was because he was pissed at her. And as far as whispered words of love, their communication was more akin to half-shouted insults. Yes, they had sparks. And those sparks would most likely ignite the sheets they lay on if he’d just give them a chance to get naked and enjoy each other. Butmarriage?That was a ridiculous idea. That was years off for Phoebe. First was graduation, then a job and paying her parents back. Then probably some travel. And then,maybe, if she found the right guy, she’d think about marriage. But it would be someone who supported her career, not tied her to a chunk of land.
Phoebe’s panic level rose to new heights, and she felt like she was teetering at the top of a hill on a rollercoaster.Holy crap. What if they did have sex? Would John start sizing her up for marriage? Would she have to crush him like a bug if he gave her his heart?
She felt sick. She’d been enjoying her little plan to seduce John so much that she hadn’t really looked at the possible consequences. Sure, he’d expressed his concerns over consequences, but the idea that things would spontaneously combust between them leaving grudges and simmering anger? It was laughable. John Pierce was too good a man to allow something like that to happen.
