“Oh-oh-oooh!” he poo-pooed with a squeak, fanning himself in dramatic Uncle Darling fashion. “That’s if he remembers me at all.”
“Well, we won’t know until we go find out. Am I right? Grab your coat and I’ll get my things and we’ll do this together. Remember what Mom used to say?” I asked as I headed toward the mudroom with him in tow.
“You can’t face your fears if you’re hiding under the covers,” he answered.
I jabbed a finger in the air. “Exactly. So pull those covers off and let’s get this chuckwagon rollin’.”
But Uncle Darling grabbed me and squeezed my arm while Hobbs went to the front door to get his coat. “Speaking of chuckwagons, Cowboy’s a keeper, Lambykins. A real keeper. Uncle Darling approves.”
Rolling my eyes, I made a face at him, even if his approval warmed my soul. “Why, because he wants to protect me from the big bad drug dealer? I think you know I can handle myself, Uncle Darling.”
“No. Because you should have seen the look on his face when you had your,” he cleared his throat, “migraine. That was genuine concern on his chiseled face, honey. Gen-u-wine. Also, I like him. I’m not mad at how good-looking he is to rest my old eyes upon, either.”
Sighing, I grabbed my coat and hat as Uncle Darling followed behind. “Things have been really hectic here, Darling. Now’s not the time to make life decisions.”
He stopped me then and bracketed my face with his warm hands. “There’s always time for love, Lamb.”
“Love? We only really started to get to know one another each other not long ago. I’m not in—”
“Fiddlesticks, Lamb. When the thunderbolt strikes, it strikes. Time matters not. I’m not saying you should set a date and go wedding-cake tasting yet. I’m only saying, don’t miss out. Leave room in your life for some romance. Your mother would kill me if I didn’t tell you that. It’s worth it.” Then he gave me an impish Uncle Darling grin. “Well, unless he gets whacked on the head and can’t remember who his husband is. Then it’s not such a scream.” He dropped a kiss on my nose and smiled genuinely, for the first time since he’d arrived. Smiled like the old Uncle Darling once had. “So promise your uncle you’ll at least think about it.”
Oh, I thought about it all the time. If he only knew how much I thought about it. But I didn’t tell him that. I wasn’t ready to show my cards yet. My deck was stacked, and I had a hand full of royal flushes.
Squeezing his hand, I nodded. “Promise.”
“Good girl. Now, let me go find our hunk.” He went off in the direction of Hobbs, leaving me to get the rest of my stuff together and say goodbye to my much-neglected familiar.
Taking Atti off my shoulder, I set him on my finger and I kissed his head. “You behave while I’m gone. Stay away from Phil. He looked especially longingly at you with those hungry eyes of his this morning. I promise we’ll try and catch up tonight. I love you, Atticus Finch.”
He buzzed in front of my face to let me know he heard me before darting off through the kitchen and down the hall.
I found Uncle Darling waiting by the front door. “Where’s Hobbs?” I took a quick glance at my hair in the mirror in the entryway, smoothing it with my hands before pulling on my favorite oatmeal-colored hat.
“Warming up his Jeep for us.” He clucked his tongue at me. “Like I said, he’s a keeper. Now, before we go, do you want to tell me what that vision was about? I’m so caught up in me, I forget how selfish I’m being.”
“It was pretty much the same as the last one, only this time it had, of all things, a typewriter in it.”
“Now if that ain’t whistling Dixie, I don’t know what is,” he remarked. “Oh, by the way, just before you put that spell on me last night—and don’t think I don’t know what a sleeping spell feels like, Miss Witch—I remembered something about the store. But I was too tired to move my big mouth.”
I froze at the mirror where I was still fiddling with my hair and wondering if I shouldn’t have some auburn streaks added to lighten up the coal black. “What did you remember?”
“You know how sensitive my nose is, right? I can smell what brand of fabric softener someone uses on their clothes from a country mile away.”
Uncle Darling definitely had a touchy olfactory. “I do remember.”
“And remember that one time when you thought you were a smart girl and would give smoking a try? Not even a shower could get rid of the smell?”
I did remember that. He’d smelled it on my jacket after I’d showered. His nose was uncanny. “Yup. I remember that, too.”
“Well, get this, Lamb. I remembered smelling smoke at Feeney’s. When that horrible man ran past me, he stunk of cigarette smoke.”
Dum-da-dum-dum-duuuum…
Chapter 9
My Favorite Things
Written by Oscar Hammerstein II, Richard Rodgers, 1959
“This hardly looks like somewhere a drug dealer would hang out, Hal.”
We were parked outside of Dessert Storm, the local bakery in town, owned by proud veteran Rhonda Jackson.
Rhonda had a wide smile, a warm hug, and apparently, according to some of the kids who took karate classes, a hiza geri (that’s a knee strike, for all you laymen like me) that was deadly.
She’d recently retired from the Army and had come home to Marshmallow Hollow to open a bakery, finally fulfilling her secret pastry chef passions.
And I’m here to testify, her red velvet cupcakes with butterscotch frosting are like moist bites of Shangri-La made with the hands of anointed angels. Just ask me and the three I’d had only the other day for lunch.
I hadn’t told Hobbs what my Uncle Darling had said about smelling smoke, but it was really bugging me. We’d both smelled it, but was my vision reliable and was Uncle Darling’s memory correct?
I mean, it had sounded pretty scary. Out of all the things to remember, who’d remember something like smelling smoke when you were faced with a guy with a shotgun? But then, he’d remembered the crease in the killer’s pants. I guess it wasn’t that unusual.
Anyway, in other news, we’d decided to ask Landry some questions while my uncle visited with Monty, to keep my mind busy.
I peered at the gorgeous interior of the store with its beautiful chandelier lights and pinkish rose-gold walls and furniture. Rhonda had modeled it after one she’d been to when she was stationed in France, and it was every little girl’s dream—filled with confections galore in pastel colors.
I made a face at him. “This is where Landry works, Hobbs. Look at his Facebook page. That’s what it says.”
Hobbs rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “I can’t believe a drug dealer works someplace so…so pink.”
“Rhonda’s known not just for her incredible baking skills and karate moves, she’s also known for her big heart. Like Mr. Feeney, she does a lot of volunteer work at the church and the rec center. I’d almost bet she hired him at Mr. Feeney’s request. Now let’s get a move-on and see what we can see.”
As we hopped out of the car and headed toward Rhonda’s, I smiled at how beautiful it looked with its pink-and-white striped awning over the picture window and the soft pink of the brick façade she’d managed to talk the town council into letting her paint.