The Prince Charming List (17 page)

Cruising country roads on a motorcycle didn’t exactly lend itself to meaningful conversation. But it was fun. When we got back a few hours later, he pulled into the alley and parked next to Marissa’s garage instead of my apartment.

“Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you. Since we couldn’t go out last night, this is the next best thing.”

I figured I owed him that much. Especially when he’d apologized with chocolate cake. I followed him inside and the first thing I saw when I walked inside was the couch. It wound through the center of the room and the slippery green fabric did look sort of serpentlike. I shuddered, imagining Snap sliding in between the cushions, never to be seen again. Or Dex. Mmm. That was a more pleasant thought.

“Well? What do you think?” Jared smiled at me and I tried to think of a nice way to tell him that his couch creeped me out.

“It’s…” That’s when I noticed he wasn’t looking at the couch but the lopsided card table in front of it. He’d covered it with a red-and-white-checkered cloth. And it was set for two. Between the plates was a taper candle set in one of those old green bottles, coated with drips of colorful wax.

He came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I wanted to take you to Madison last night. It was the grand opening of The Yellow Door, a new Italian restaurant. Invitation only. One of my friends is a chef there so he got us a table—or would have. It’s all about who you know. Since we couldn’t go, I talked him into giving me the recipe for his portobello ravioli instead.”

“You made dinner?” Chocolate cake with an apology written in frosting would have been enough. Ravioli was overkill. Not that I was complaining.

“I can do more than open a can of pork and beans.”

Somewhere inside that statement was a dig directed at the male population of Prichett, but I was too touched by the trouble he’d taken to reenact the Saturday date-that-wasn’t to look for it.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go last night.” I meant it, but I still wouldn’t have backed out on Annie, even if Jared had told me what he had planned. “It would have been fun. But this is better.”

Way better. Creative. Thoughtful.
Romantic
.

It wasn’t until the middle of dinner that I got up the courage to mention the upcoming Fourth of July Frolic. Except I called it a
celebration
. No point in scaring the poor guy.

“Sounds like the perfect time to skip town,” Jared said. “You don’t have to work, right?”

“I’m working until noon on Saturday. Some of the women who are in the parade want updos, so I decided to open the salon. Annie and Stephen need some help running games for the youth that day, but I haven’t told them I would yet….” I left the sentence open, hoping he’d take the hint.

“It sounds like you want to stick around.” He pushed his plate away and leaned back in the chair.

“They could use all the help they can get.”
Not very subtle, Heather.
I couldn’t believe it. Was I
testing
him? That was a big no-no in all the books on relationships. Because it wasn’t fair to set up a test, especially since—according to the books—guys never knew when something was a test. Apparently guys didn’t even know there
were
tests. So, it wasn’t a test. I was simply trying to
discern
(a much more mature term) what his thoughts were about being with me at the Fourth of July Frolic or being without me doing…whatever.

Jared was looking at me like I was from Mars. No wait, that was supposedly
his
home planet. “Then you better help them.”

“Don’t you want to help, too? It’ll give you a chance to get to know some of the people in town.” I inched my way out onto that particular limb.

“Like that’s at the top of my list.” Jared actually laughed at me. “No thanks.”

Crash
.

It was a good thing it wasn’t a test. Because Jared would have just gotten a big fat F.

I
was surprised when Kaylie came into the salon the next afternoon. She didn’t say anything, just took a seat by the window and picked up a magazine. I had a cranky toddler named Chloe in my chair, two walk-ins in a race to drain the coffeepot and a phone that wouldn’t stop ringing.

When the first baby curl drifted onto little Chloe’s shoulder, she burst into tears. Her mother tried to cheer her up by pressing her doll into her arms, but Chloe sent it sailing across the room, where it smacked against the door.

“Cut and Curl. This is Kaylie. How can I help you?”

I heard the words over the wailing and saw Kaylie on the phone. My phone.

“What can I do for you?” She flipped through my appointment book and grabbed a pencil. “We’ve got several openings after three o’clock on Friday. Four o’clock? Great. Heather will see you then.”

“Is it going to be much longer?” One of the walk-ins marched up to me.

“Ten more—” Chloe had peeled a piece of vinyl off the arm of the chair and held it up like a trophy “—minutes.”

The phone rang again. My scissors slipped and I nicked my finger. Chloe saw the drop of blood that spattered against the cape and started to howl again. Manic Monday. Now I knew why people called it that.

“Cut and Curl. This is Kaylie. How can I help you?”

Two hours later, I sank into the shampoo chair and closed my eyes. “You saved my life, you know.”

I wasn’t sure why, but Kaylie had taken over as my receptionist, fielding phone calls as efficiently as a press secretary. Her shyness completely disappeared when she was talking on the phone. I’d even heard her banter with some of the customers while she was setting up their appointments.

“I brought you the money to pay for Whitney’s haircut.”

“But you didn’t have to stay.”

Kaylie lingered by the counter, fiddling with a pen. “I was rude to you yesterday. I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I should be the one apologizing. I was being nosy. I like to think of it as
curious
but sometimes they end up looking alike.”

The phone rang again and Kaylie reached for it, and then drew back with a guilty look.

“Go ahead, you’re on a roll. I’ll even pay you.” I was joking but Kaylie’s eyes widened.

“You’d hire me?”

“You’d
want
to work here?”

“Yes.”

“Then…yes.”

Kaylie grinned and picked up the phone. “Cut and Curl. This is Kaylie.”

Now I had to find the courage to break the news to Bernice that she wasn’t the only employee anymore.

Because of Kaylie, I was out the door a lot sooner than usual. Jared had text messaged me, asking me to stop by the studio after work. I waved at Amanda as I walked past the café’s window. She waved back with her copy of
Treasure Island.
Moroccan Monday must not have gone over as well as she and Sally had hoped because there was a sign on the window announcing Mexican Monday. All-You-Can-Eat (Beef) Tacos.

I slowed down and savored every step. It felt good to actually
feel
the sunshine instead of watching it out the window. When I turned the corner, Jared’s motorcycle was parked in front of the pottery shop. There was no sign of Marissa when I went inside, so I tiptoed past the counter and peeked into the studio. Jared was on his knees, brushing a layer of hot wax on one of Junebug’s hooves.

“Hi.” Every time I saw Jared was a fresh reminder of how good-looking he was. He looked better in rumpled clothes than most guys did in a tux.

“Hi.” He barely glanced at me. Maybe it was time to remind him that he was the one who’d asked me to stop by. “You texted?”

He was drawing a blank. I could see it in his eyes.

“Two o’clock. I believe the exact words were,
Heather, stop by.
” Ringing any bells here?

“I meant later tonight.” Jared tossed a metal tool into a bucket of gray water. It hit the side with a sharp clank and sank. At the moment, I could relate.

Awkward pause here!

“Hi, Heather.” Marissa poked her head in the doorway. “Can you come upstairs a sec? I want to show you something.”

I glanced from her to Jared. “I’ll be right back.”

Jared didn’t answer.

“The Boy Wonder is in a mood today.” Marissa’s voice was low but her eyes were twinkling. “Lester is making him spend the evening at the farm because he said Jared isn’t capturing Junebug’s expression. He thinks they need some bonding time.”

That explained it. I knew how Jared felt about Lester’s interference with his sculpture. And Junebug. The last time they’d “bonded,” Junebug had altered the design of his shirt.

We reached the top of the stairs and Dex was standing there. His nickname should be Visa because he was everywhere I wanted to be. At the moment, he looked like he’d been making mud pies. When it came to Dex, I couldn’t rule anything out.

“I thought you were working at the apartment today.”

“Until noon.” He rubbed his thumb against his nose and left a smear of clay. No sense mentioning it. He’d figure it out. Eventually.

“Don’t quit, Dex, you’re doing great.” Marissa veered around the potter’s wheel and walked toward the back of the studio. “I got a letter a few days ago asking if I’d donate some pieces to a charity auction and I could use your opinion, Heather.”

I wasn’t always qualified, but I always had an opinion. I had the feeling, though, that Marissa had only come down to rescue me from Jared’s bad mood.

Dex glanced at me and then sat down, where a misshapen lump of clay huddled on the potter’s wheel. Fascinated, I stopped to watch him.

“You might not want to get that close,” Marissa warned. “It gets messy.”

I inched closer, waiting for Dex to do something. Something other than sit there like the lump of clay he was supposed to be doing something with.

The wheel began to hum and he pressed his hands against the clay. Slowly it began to take shape under the pressure of his hands. Until one of the sides caved in.

“Again?” Marissa clucked her tongue.

“That’s nine.” Dex scraped his palms against his thighs.

“Your pot flopped nine times?” Did the term glutton for punishment mean anything to him?

“Not counting yesterday,” Marissa said. “Yesterday was…how many, Dex?”

“Six.”

“Can I try?” It looked like fun.

Dex’s pot flopped again. “You’ll ruin your clothes.”

I grabbed a smock off a hook on the wall.

“And your shoes.”

I kicked off my sandals and pushed them under a chair.

Dex gave in. He stood up and I took his place at the wheel.

Marissa was trying not to smile.

“Now what?”

“Dex can walk you through it.” Marissa leaned against a shelf and folded her arms.

“I should go.” Dex’s voice sounded strangled.

“Come on.” I flashed him an impatient look. “You can spare a few minutes. Think of it as making up for the deadly fumes you subjected me to.”

“Fine. Put your hands on the clay.”

“Like this?”

“No.”

“Then
show
me.” I jiggled up and down, already imagining the cute planter I could make for the window of the apartment.

Dex started the wheel and put his hands over mine.

I squeaked. “It’s moving too fast.”

“Put your fingers here and guide the clay.”

“Do you guys mind if I get my camcorder?” Marissa asked.

“Yes!”
Dex and I said it at the same time.

The pot wobbled from side to side while I did my best to keep it under control. It wasn’t as easy as it looked.

“It’ll work better if you get your hands wet.” Dex pointed to the bucket next to the wheel. I leaned down and plunged one hand into the warm water.

The pot flopped again and I moaned. “Ten.”

“You can’t add that to my score. You have to start your own.”

“Then I get to keep this one when it’s done.”

“Be my guest.” Dex put his palm against the side of the pot to shore it up. Muddy brown water sprayed my arm. “Keep your hands on it. The more you touch it, the easier it is to work with.”

Marissa grinned. “That’s what I love about being a potter. There are a thousand sermons in a lump of clay.”

I knew exactly what she meant. It was the same with people. The more people let God get His hands in their life, the more they saw how faithful He was and the more yielding they became.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay.”
I murmured the verse that came to mind. I’d been on the Bible Quiz Team for four years in school but I was still surprised when one of those dormant verses suddenly came to life and zipped around inside my head like a shooting star. Usually right when I needed it.

“Hard pressed on every side but not crushed.”
Dex spoke the words close to my ear, stirring my hair. Challenging me.

I struggled to remember the rest.
“Perplexed but not in despair.”

“Persecuted but not abandoned.”

“Struck down but not—”
The sides of the pot caved in like a cheese soufflé.

“Destroyed.”
I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt.

In the midst of our recitation of 2 Corinthians chapter four, I saw Jared standing at the top of the stairs. But he wasn’t laughing.

“If there’s ever stand-up comedy night at the church, you two would win first prize,” Marissa said, wiping tears from her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

Dex’s hands were still covering mine. I eased them away and he twitched like he’d been zapped with an electrical current. Or maybe our little competition had overloaded his memory circuits.

“Let me show you how to do that. If you need a lesson on how to mop the floor, you can get Dexter to help you.” Jared’s words were teasing but Dex didn’t smile. It wasn’t the first time Jared had made fun of Dex. Maybe he hadn’t forgiven him for single-handedly eating half the cake at Annie’s that night. Or maybe—I remembered the kiss and felt my cheeks heat up—for being there in the first place.

“Thanks, Dex.” I verbally stepped in between them. “Are you sure you don’t want to finish it?”

“Go ahead. I already have one.”

“Where is it?” I didn’t think he’d show me but he picked something off the shelf. It had already been fired and the final product was a lopsided bowl in emerald green, shot with tiny bursts of gold.

“This is
great
.” I turned it over in my hands and noticed something written on the bottom. Dex tried to take it away from me but he wasn’t fast enough. I saw the word etched roughly in the hardened clay.

Fireflies
.

The strange thing was, I could
see
them. They came to life in a wild dance against a field of fragrant green grass. “Did you copy one of Marissa’s designs?”

Dex didn’t answer so Marissa did. “I can’t take the credit. He came up with that on his own. I may have to borrow it.”

“Mine isn’t going to look this good.”

“No offense, but it’s going to look better.” Jared pulled up a stool and sat beside me. I tried to give the bowl back to Dex. He didn’t budge. Go figure. Ten seconds ago, he was trying to wrestle it away from me.

“You can keep it.”

“Really? Because—”

“It reminds me of your eyes.”

The rest of the words I was going to say got stuck in my throat. I must not have heard him right. My mouth opened and closed several times, like a pump trying to coax water from a well.

“Your eyes. Fireflies in a field.”

Jared snorted and I said the first thing that came to mind to cover it up. “They’re just…green.”

“No.”

He sounded so certain that I felt a flash of irritation. I was pretty sure I knew what color my eyes were. I’d been looking at them in the mirror every day for years.

“They’re green, dude.” Jared was my witness.

Dex didn’t argue with him. He grabbed the broom that was propped against a chair and followed Marissa downstairs.

“Someone’s been around the Pine-Sol too long.” Jared started up the wheel. “Ready?”

I took a deep breath and nodded, but what I really wanted was a mirror.

When I got back to my apartment later that night, I pressed my nose against the mirror and studied my eyes. I was right. They were green. Green…with microscopic flecks of gold so tiny I couldn’t figure out how Dex had noticed them.

But
fireflies?
If Dex hadn’t said it, it would have been almost…poetic.

“Mayor Lane wants to talk to you.”
Kaylie mouthed the words, pressing the phone against her chest.