Ice cream was a sure way to calm your nerves, right?
Chapter Four
Drake
Honeycomb Acres supplied the town with plenty of fresh, local honey, but they also had a large herd of cattle. Locals could purchase a side of beef from Honeycomb and I would dress and package it for them, saving them processing fees and keeping their meat in town.
Watching this partnership with my grandpappy and the owners of Honeycomb Acres, I learned I could only do one order like this a week or I was working overtime and overcommitted myself. It was good cash, but a lot of work to dress and real estate in my cooler while the beef ages...typically ten days or so.
“Hi, Sally,” I said, always eager to take her call and get something on my schedule.
"Hi, Drake! I know this is more than you normally like to take on at once, but I have an order being donated to the local soup kitchen." She explained I would have longer to process because they wanted it frozen anyway, but I'd have to store three steers.
"I can do it this time, but I won't be able to take any more orders from you for a couple of weeks...at least until I get my freezer cleared out."
"I'll throw in a couple of large jars of honey, just for you, Drake," she said, in an attempt to butter me up.
“You know I like the jars with a little honeycomb inside, Sally!”
"Oh, I know! I'll deliver myself!"
Long nights and weekends were coming up, but it was for a good cause and padded the bottom line. At least Chuck would keep me company.
The big order would arrive on Thursday. And that was fine with me because, once I got it stored, I would just wait for the following weekend to process it. It would only take an extra hour or so Thursday night to prep it.
Grandpappy taught me everything I needed to know when big orders like this came in.
Knife technique.
Specifics about cuts.
How to use certain types of meat.
How to age, wrap, and store.
He was my mentor and I was his apprentice.
When Grandmammy passed away, I was 23 and had been working with them for five years. He and I stayed busy at the shop. But two years later, he died unexpectedly. I think his heart was just broken.
I took a week off and closed the shop. But knew I needed to get back at it pretty quickly before the loneliness set in. I ignored my grief and used the skills he gave me to move on.
My estranged family (except my brother) contested the will, claiming I should not have been named sole heir. My grandparents had not amassed some fortune hidden in a money vault buried on their small piece of land. They merely wanted me to have their house, which was a place to live near the shop, so they’d know I would have a roof over my head.
I was thankful to have a contact in town that was an attorney and was able to take care of everything with little involvement from me.
So I kept going.
Day by day.
And now a few years have passed, and I am very comfortable running my little butcher shop in my small town that has taken me in as their own.
It was jerky-making day in the shop. I always arrive early on jerky-making day...even though the day ends up being long. I enjoy making my recipes.
Prep happened the day before when I thinly sliced different cuts of meat and went ahead and started the marinating process.
There’s one coffee shop in Hazenberg and it was both a blessing and a curse that it was right across the street from the shop. Early days, though, I appreciated their caffeine. Today was one of those days.
“Is it jerky day, Drake?” The barista knew me, of course.
"It is indeed, Lizzie!" She knew I wanted an extra shot of espresso. "I'll swing back by in a couple of hours for a refill too." I winked and tipped her well. I liked Lizzie and she was probably similar in age. I had wondered if she was single, not seeing a ring on her finger, but never did anything about it. I didn't date often, especially with people in town...I guess because so many were customers. Also because most of my older customers tried setting me up with their nieces and granddaughters. That got old quick. But Lizzie, I had thought about asking out a time or two. I let that thought marinate like the jerky that was awaiting me across the street.
Jerky-making day was actually the easiest part of the entire process. The day before consisted of cutting and prepping the meat for marinating. And the day after consisted of packaging and inventorying the lot. But the actual day of making...I just had to dry the meat and load the dehydrators.
Once loaded, the meat would dry for about 30 hours. I had four recipes that were pretty popular and sold well. So I alternated and made two of each batch since I had two dehydrators. Today I’d be drying my Original Meat Treats and my Lil’ Heat Meat Treats.
I liked the rhyming convention. I also had Elite Meat Treats and Sorta Sweet Meat Treats. Grandmammy would have liked this line, too. She and Grandpappy passed before I launched the line of jerky.
My jerky had a long shelf life, which was nice. And I was trying to stock the shelves to be ready for the summer fair that was only a couple months away.
The fair was like my Black Friday. Everyone needed meat for recipes, and I set up a huge booth myself to sell products.
And I was pleased with how well the people of Hazenberg liked my jerky.
Chapter Five
Aggie
I woke up early and took full advantage of the continental breakfast, tossing a banana and apple in my purse for later. The clerk at the desk also had a bag of chocolate chip cookies waiting for me. I noticed they didn’t do that for every guest and I really appreciated the gesture. Once I hit the road, I had about an hour’s drive before I arrived in Hazenberg.
Once I got off the interstate, it felt like I was heading away from civilization. I knew this was the case, but the shock was still there. Businesses were farther and farther apart, and the road was less congested with traffic than what I was used to. I was pleased though, knowing, in just a short drive, I could visit Knoxville or go north to Lexington.
Kentucky wasn’t so bad.
“Hi there, honey!” Makayla Sanders said as she approached my vehicle. “Agnes, right?”
I opened my door and got out to greet her. She was in her mid-40s, a short and slender woman, and seemed sweet and genuine when I talked to her on the phone.
“Hi, ma’am. And yes, I’m Agnes, but everyone calls me Aggie.”
“Love a good nickname! I tried to get people to call me Kay, but it never stuck. Let’s go on in and look at the place, shall we?”
I nodded and followed her to a townhouse much larger than the pictures did justice.
“Number four here on the end is yours,” she said. “And I have a little bit of a confession to make...”
Uh oh.
Mrs. Sanders opened the door to a freshly painted space lacking every bit of furniture that was shown in the listing photos of the place online.
“You painted?” I said with enthusiasm, hoping the obvious was that the furniture was moved out to paint. Let’s start out optimistic, Aggie.
"Yep! A fresh coat of paint and, don't freak out yet, I got rid of all the old furniture," she explained. "I just couldn't stand the thought of a nice girl like you with a crappy couch and beat up end tables.
“I’m not fancy, Mrs. Sanders, promise you that,” I was worried there was a “but” coming.