Chapter 58
Nate woke up Monday morning wearing the same smile he’d fallen asleep wearing last night after he and McKenna made it back to the B&B from Cookeville. He couldn’t help it. These past few days had been too perfect not to smile.
Sure, things got a little goofy Saturday evening at the dance.
But this was Bugle. When weren’t things a little goofy?
Besides, what was wrong with goofy? Goofy could be good.
Goofy could be great. Goofy could be the exact word to describe his smile this morning now that he was looking at himself in the mirror.
You’re head over heels for her, aren’t you? he imagined his mentor’s voice saying in his head.
His reflection goofy-grinned back.
Yep. Enough said.
Nate reached for his toothbrush, reliving every great moment he and McKenna had shared yesterday. Every great kiss.
Obviously they still had a lot to figure out. But this was only Monday. Harry wasn’t coming to town until Thursday. They should still have plenty of time, just the two of them, to continue getting to know each other. Through both their words and their lips.
This morning Nate felt like their lips should take top priority.
Clanging sounded from the kitchen. McKenna must be up. May as well establish this new priority before all the Harry hoopla kicked into full swing.
Nate slid on his glasses, then threw on some clean cargo shorts and a T-shirt and hustled down the stairs, his stomach rumbling for breakfast. Maybe he could whip up some pancakes if McKenna wasn’t making something already.
Did she like pancakes? Probably. Who didn’t like pancakes?
He’d find out if she liked pancakes once they finished kissing.
“Good morn—” A wooden spoon covered in glob halted his words as soon as he stepped in the kitchen.
Georgie, wearing some sort of flowery muumuu robe that nobody’s eyes should be subjected to first thing in the morning, shoved the spoon closer to his mouth. “Does this taste like the pickle salad Mary Goodbar made for your Uncle Louis’s funeral?”
The refrigerator door was hanging wide open with a pile of broken eggshells on the little rug in front of it, and every flat surface throughout the kitchen was littered with dirty dishes and open cans. “Where’s McKenna?”
“Agave nectar. Tell me what you think.” She jabbed the spoon closer.
“I think I need coffee,” he said, waving her arm away.
“How long have you been here?” Obviously long enough to destroy the kitchen.
He closed the refrigerator door, then bent down to scoop up the eggshells.
“And why are you obsessing over pickle salad so early on a Monday?” Especially a Monday when he ought to be kissing McKenna.
“Why am I obsessing?” Georgie flung the spoon into the sink overflowing with dirty bowls and empty cans, then propped her hands on her muumuu.
“Need I remind you, Nate Lambert, that one of the most amazingly gifted creatures on God’s green earth is set to arrive in three days.
I think the only valid question that should be coming out of anyone’s lips right now is why you’re not obsessing over pickle salad. ”
Nate brushed a clump of lettuce greens off the counter into his palm, so he could dump them into the trash. “Pretty sure everybody on God’s green earth, especially the amazingly gifted ones, have better things to think about than pickle salad.”
“If you remembered your Uncle Louis’s funeral, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
“I don’t even remember Uncle Louis.”
“He was your mom’s great-uncle. Not that it matters at this point.
” Georgie dropped a handful of celery into a bowl seated on a stool behind the kitchen island.
At least he really hoped there was a bowl seated on that stool.
“What matters is everyone in this town will remember the potluck after the funeral. I’m telling you, nobody could stop raving over Mary Goodbar’s pickle salad.
Do you happen to know where your Mom keeps all the secret family recipe cards?
Maybe someone asked for the recipe after the funeral and you guys have been passing it down as some sort of family legacy. ”
Nate massaged the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “Where’s McKenna?”
“Agave nectar.”
“Why do you keep saying that like it means something?”
“I sent her to the store for more ingredients,” she said, tossing an entire radish into a bowl on the kitchen table. “But she better hurry. I’ve got a ton more things I need her to do. I’ve got a ton more things I need you to do.”
“What sort of things?” Other than declare the kitchen a national emergency.
“Harry things.”
That was all the explanation Nate got before the back kitchen door banged opened.
Nate spun, hoping for McKenna. A breathless Barb entered instead, carrying the biggest container of mayonnaise Nate had ever seen.
She pushed it into his arms. “Here, honey. Sorry I can’t stay.
I need to help Frank with a bunch of paperwork for the barn before the insurance office closes.
But I promise I’ll be back later this afternoon for the first meeting. ”
The first meeting?
“Wait, wait, wait. Before you go . . .” Georgie rushed around the table with a spoon and shoved it into Barb’s mouth. “Does that taste like Mary Goodbar’s pickle salad?”
Barb was already shaking her head. “What recipe did you use?”
“Not sure. This might’ve been the one I clipped out of a magazine a few years ago.”
“You need to talk to Geraldine.”
“Why Geraldine?”
“If you’ll recall, Geraldine couldn’t attend Louis’s funeral. I think she asked Mary to take the salad for her.”
“So why didn’t Geraldine say something when everybody started praising Mary?”
“Because you know Geraldine never could say a bad word about anybody. But you’ll notice how Mary never brought that pickle salad to anything ever again. I think it’s because she didn’t have the recipe, and Geraldine wasn’t giving it to her.”
“You think Geraldine will give it to me?”
“Call up Sunny Acres. That’s where she’s living these days. You need the number?”
“Nope. Still remember it from when my brother Richard lived there.”
“See y’all later this afternoon.” Barb scurried out the back door and Nate made sure to keep it open so Georgie could scurry along right after her.
Unfortunately she was already scurrying the opposite direction to the landline hanging on the wall next to the fridge. “Hi,” she said after punching in several numbers. “Georgie here. I need to speak to Geraldine Collins. It’s an emergency.”
Nate grabbed a wet paper towel to clean off whatever spice she’d dumped all over the oven. “Maybe you should make this emergency call from your cell phone. At home.”
“Shh.” Georgie’s bony elbow dug into his side as he tossed the paper towel in the trash and tried getting around her to the coffee maker.
“She’s where? Well, that’s fine. Just go ahead and patch me through to physical therapy then.
Huh? No phone? Well, then pull her out of the session and bring her to your phone if that’s what you need to do.
” Georgie rolled her eyes and pointed at the phone, mouthing these people before she covered the mouthpiece and said, “Why are you just standing there?”
“Because you’re in my way,” Nate said.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re in my way?”
“Never.”
Georgie turned her attention back to the phone.
“Oh, that was fast. Good morning, my dear. How are you? It’s Georgie.
You sound winded. Must be a good physical therapy session.
Now listen, honey, important question. Do you still remember your secret pickle salad recipe?
The one Mary Goodbar’s always taken credit for?
Because I need it right now for Harry Connick Junior.
” Georgie waited a beat, then frowned at the phone. “She hung up. Can you believe that?”
“That might be the only believable thing I’ve witnessed so far this morning.”
“I suppose I could try adding more vinegar. But what if it’s something unexpected like Worcestershire sauce?” Georgie pulled her cell phone out of her muumuu and began tapping the screen.
“So you really could’ve used your own phone for that call.”
“Shh.” She elbowed him in the side. “McKenna, where are you?”
Great question.
“You’re almost here?”
Great answer.
“Well, turn around.”
Great googly moogly.
“Go back to the store right now. Of course, I’m serious.
We’re not thinking outside the box. We need more spices, more sauces, and a lot more pickles.
Oh, and swing by Sunny Acres while you’re out, will you?
I’ll send you the address. Ask for Geraldine and tell her you’re not leaving until you get answers. She’ll know what you mean.”
Nate rubbed his eyes, then began massaging his forehead. Why did he get the feeling this week was going to be full of headaches and very little kissing?