Chapter 2 #3
3. Bo Wilson is cordoning off a kiddie area with a bouncy castle, crafts, and face painting. A big thank-you to the student volunteers from Clementine High School for helping out with the lil’ darlin’s.
4. Straight outta Flippin, Arkansas, the Flippin Biscuit Boys will again be providing the music this year, complete with fiddle, banjo, washboard, and jaw harp.
For the tenth year in a row, Ms. Eugenia Pickles will be giving square dance lessons, so take advantage of that if you desire. Be ready for a boot-scootin’ good time!
5. Per tradition, the last musical number of the night is a Sadie Hawkins one, so, ladies, you still have time to figure out who you’re going to ask. Don’t be shy now!
6. Finally, have fun, be safe, put on your best smile, and leave your bad attitude at home, ’cause you know Sheriff Thistle and Mayor Pancake won’t abide any trouble.
Remember, summer officially begins sundown after the hoedown. See ya Saturday!
“Seb?”
He jumped at the sound of Bo’s voice.
“Sorry.” Buford’s nephew was standing in front of the desk. “I knocked a couple of times. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” Sometimes he got so caught up in his writing that he tuned out the world. He stood and shook Bo’s hand, then gestured to the chair Tyler previously occupied. “Good to see you,” he said, sitting back down. “It’s been a while.”
“Sure has.” Bo sat and placed his folded hands over his portly stomach. “Between the hoedown and wedding plans, I’m plum busy, and you know how summertime is on the farm. Lots of work to do up until after the harvest.”
“How are the crops this year?”
“Looking good so far, as long as the weather holds. We could use a drenching rain, though.”
Bo’s words were normal enough, but Seb could tell he looked a little off-center. He definitely wasn’t here to shoot the breeze. “What can I do for you?” Seb asked.
Bo ran his palm over his bald pate. “I have a big favor to ask.”
“If I can do it, I will.”
“It involves Vivian’s stepdaughter, Kalista Clark.”
“I didn’t know she had a stepdaughter.”
“I knew about her, but we’ve never met. Viv and Kalista’s father, Raymond, divorced a long time ago, but she and Kalista kept in touch for several years after and then lost touch again.
It’s a long story, but Kalista’s coming to visit for the summer.
Viv’s missed her. I don’t think she realized how much until Raymond called. ”
Seb nodded. While he’d known Bo almost all his life, the man was thirteen years older than him.
Everyone in town was shocked when he announced he was getting married, not just because he was Clementine’s oldest bachelor but also because Viv was a former model who lived in California.
Not exactly the type of woman one would peg as farmwife material.
But she’d proven her mettle when she moved to Clementine earlier this year after they’d gotten engaged.
She lived in Bo’s small, fifties-era house, and Bo stayed in the bunkhouse with his farmhand on the back forty of the property.
The relationship worked for them, and they were getting married later this summer.
Bo adjusted his left suspender over a red short-sleeved shirt. “Kalista arrives tomorrow, and Viv’s going to help her find a job so she’ll have something to do while she’s here. I thought I’d try you first, though.”
“You want me to hire her?”
“I was hoping you could. See, Kalista’s lived a pampered life. Spoiled rotten is what Viv says, even though she loves her. She says that deep down Kalista is really sweet. It’s just hard to find that sweetness when it’s swimming in vinegar.”
“Does she have any journalism experience?”
“I reckon she doesn’t. I know this is a big ask, but since we’re family...”
They weren’t, not technically. But in Seb’s book, they were in every way that counted. He didn’t believe you had to be blood related to be family. “I’d be glad to help out, but I don’t have anything—” He thought about the abandoned route. “Does she know how to drive?”
“She’s eighteen, so I assume so. I don’t know for sure.”
“We have a delivery route open. If she wants to apply for it, send her over. That’s the only job I can give her right now. We’re low staff as it is.”
“Things aren’t getting any better?”
Seb shook his head. He could admit that to Bo. “It’s hard on newspapers all over, especially since everything’s moving to digital. You know how your uncle felt about digital.”
“Sure do.” He glanced at the MacIntosh. “Bought him that computer over there, thinking he’d appreciate it. He wasn’t interested. I can see you’re not either.”
“My manual typewriter and some good old-fashioned paper are all I need.”
“And that’s one of the reasons Buford liked you.
You’re an old soul, Seb. A throwback even.
Kinda like myself.” He stood and grinned.
“I’d better get back to the house. Viv and me are cake testing this afternoon.
” He patted his large stomach. “I ain’t been into all the wedding planning, but today’s gonna be a good day. ”
“Sounds like a delicious one too.”
“Sure hope so. Thanks again. I knew I could count on you.”
Bo left, and Seb turned back to his column. He was glad he could help Bo and Viv, although he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of hiring a spoiled kid. If she worked out, though, it would help him and Tyler, at least in the short term until they could find a permanent carrier.
He started typing, only for the door to open again. “Now what?”
“Good morning to you too, bro.” Evelyn Margot paused in the doorway, holding five eight-by-ten pictures of him.
She thumbed through them, then showed him the one with a scowl and slid it into the clear frame right outside the door, altering his staff photo to match his current mood.
He frowned as she came back in and sat in front of him, placing the rest of the pictures on his desk. “Sorry I’m late.”
“For what?”
“My yearly reminder that you’re not allowed to duck the Sadie Hawkins dance at the hoedown.”
“Not this again. Don’t you have some vendors to call? Some ads to create? A lawn to mow?”
She gave him an annoying smirk, bothering him even more. Her smirk looked like his smirk, and if his smirk annoyed other people as much as her smirk annoyed him—
“Lawn’s mowed, ads will be done by the end of the day, and I’ll make some calls in a bit, so stop dodging the conversation.”
“I don’t duck the dance.” He just made sure he wasn’t available when the time came.
“Quack, quack.” She crossed her legs, clad in flared jeans with a wide belt, her olive T-shirt tucked inside the waistband. “Or should I say, ‘Cluck, cluck’?”
“You’re one to talk. When are you going to tell Haskell how you feel about him?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”
He faced the typewriter. “Payback’s a pain, isn’t it? And as much fun as this banal conversation is, I have a column to finish.”
“I need to talk to you about something else.”
He turned to her. “What’s that?”
She pushed a lock of her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Piggly Wiggly doesn’t want to renew their contract.”
Seb groaned. “Why?”
“George wouldn’t say, at least not right away,” Evelyn said, referring to the grocery store’s advertising representative. “But they don’t think The Times has a big enough circulation anymore. They’re going to look at more regional advertising instead of local.”
“That’s just great.” The store was one of their biggest accounts.
“Sorry,” she said, her teasing mood completely gone. “I tried to convince him otherwise.”
“I’m sure you did.” Evelyn was a good salesperson, and he had confidence she’d done everything she could to get them to stay. “Would it help if I called them?” He and George were on friendly terms.
Evelyn shook her head. “I mentioned that. George said the decision’s been made.”
Seb sighed and rubbed his forehead. So much for the paper being in the black anytime soon.
He did some quick calculations in his head.
If he didn’t hire Kalista—Bo would understand—and he and Tyler split the mountain route until Evelyn found another large advertiser, the paper would bleed less money.
But that would also give Tyler a third job and Seb would have.
.. He lost track of how many jobs he had.
No, they had to hire someone for that route.
There was another thing he could do, but it would take time. Lots of time—something he didn’t have. And even if he had the time, he wasn’t sure he could pull it off again. The sophomore slump was real.
Evelyn took the rest of the pictures off Seb’s desk and stood. “Cheer up, bro. I’m sure we’ll get another advertiser soon.” She left his office.
He wanted to believe her. And he could carve out some time to make vendor phone calls and help Evelyn in her advertising search.
He hated sales almost as much as bookkeeping, but it had to be done.
He glanced at his half-finished column. He’d work on it tonight.
With another sigh, he picked up the phone, moved his Rolodex closer to him, and started dialing.