“You know I’m retired,” she says, holding her enormous purse. “I want to see if that rain damaged the paint last night.”
“Oh…” I frown looking up ahead. “I hadn’t thought about the paint.”
“Cause he hasn’t gotten to your store yet. It’s probably fine.” We walk a bit further before she shifts gears. “Bucky said he’s picking you up tonight at seven.”
“That’s what he said,” I say with a sigh. You’d think she was taking me out as much as she talks about it.
“Is Tabby watching Lola for you?”
“Coco,” I gently correct her. “No, she’ll be here at my momma’s.”
“Good of her to help you the way she does.”
“My momma likes to be in control of things.” I do my best to keep my tone light.
Betty nods, pressing her lips together. “You are so right there. That is one thing Marjorie has always done. Controlled things, bless your heart.”
I was right with her up until the last part. “What do you mean?”
“It’ll be the first time you’ve dated anyone since… Mason Green? A major breakthrough if you ask me.”
“I didn’t really date Mason. He took me to a few dances.”
“You’ve never really dated anyone since…” She arches her brow in a knowing way, but I’m not discussing my love life with Busybody Pepper.
“I guess I’m frigid,” I tease.
“Oh, you’re not frigid. You’ve got too much of your daddy in you for that.” She pats my forearm. “Yes, you got that Warren fire from him—and your strength. He was a strong man.” We’re just entering the small business district, and my shoulders tense when I see Jackson touching up the paint on the hardware store. “Although, I guess he did have one weakness, didn’t he.” The old woman gives me the side-eye then shrugs. “I suppose that’s what drew you two together. Genes.”
I stop walking. “Betty Pepper, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She does a little jump as if I’ve startled her. “You don’t? Well…” Pulling her giant purse closer to her, she starts up her front steps. “Maybe you’ll figure it out.”
She storms through her door, and I’m left standing in the middle of the street staring after her wondering what the hell. A low voice from above snaps me out of it.
“Good morning,” Jackson calls down.
I don’t look up.
Coco, by contrast, is eager to return any greeting. “Good morning, painter man!” she cries, waving her hands frantically.
I pick up the pace, practically jogging us past the hardware store and my bakery, around the corner and into the alley.
“Zoom!” Coco hums as I get her out of the seat. The moment her feet touch the ground, she takes off headed for the corner. “Zoom!”
She’s running, but I catch her around the waist. “Hold up, speed racer. Give me that helmet.”
Carrying her in through the back door, I drop her little helmet on a chair and set her on her feet. She takes off running to the front of the store, where her stash of “baking supplies” is still waiting from earlier in the week.
“What’s our new monster?” I call, stopping to lift the apron over my head.
“Yellow monster says cuatro!”
“Hmm,” I think about it. “I think zesty lemon for this monster.”
“Yes!” she cries, dumping all the play-dough items on the wooden floor.
I head for the refrigerator. All but the final two-tiered dessert cake and Donna’s wedding cake are left on my schedule. The dessert cake needs to be done by the weekend, but I have a month to work on Donna’s.