Page 73 of Sweet and Salty
“Not yet. Where have you been?”
Frannie brushes some grass off the back of her sundress. “Nowhere. How’s the competition?”
“I’m not sure. The judges haven’t come around here yet.”
Frannie rolls her eyes. “They’re Drydens. Ugh. I’m going to make myself scarce. Let me know after they leave.”
“You haven’t been present,” I call after her as she walks away toward the alcohol tent, her skirt brushing her legs.
Whatever. Nothing can bother me today. Not when Jesse is due back.
Unless his plane got held up or something. Or he got stuck behind tourists.
He’ll be fine. Once he woke up from the anesthesia after his gunshot wound—thank heavens we’d been able to rush him across the parking lot to the hospital—I’d given him the biggest kiss I could without disturbing his IV line.
That, however, was weeks and weeks ago. I want to see him again.
“Hello, Laura.” Monroe Dryden and his sister Clara step up to my table. They look like the twins from the secondMatrixmovie. Why they both chose to wear white, which really only makes their skin and hair paler, is beyond me. It’s a dang cherry festival. How do you not get sprayed here and there with red juice? Jenny Tollerston, the third judge and the only vain attempt to make the competition look legitimate, trails behind, flicking pieces of icing-covered pastry from her jeans. “These look amazing. What do you have today?” Monroe says.
“Chocolate cherry old-fashioned kringle.” I reach up and tighten the blue-and-white bandana holding back my hair. I’m not going to be nervous. Not around them.
Monroe and Clara each take a delicate bite of the same slice, while Jenny inhales nearly half of hers. Jenny’s eyes roll back inher head. “That is absolute heaven, Laura. Can I take one for my husband? He’s over at the tilt-a-whirl with the kiddos.”
“Sure, go ahead.” I stick my hands in the big front pocket of my apron.
Jenny picks up a plate and runs across the park, shouting her husband’s name. “Chet! You gotta try this!”
Monroe and Clara chuckle as they discard the rest of their slice in the trash. “This is excellent, Laura. Sweet and Salty has outdone itself once again.”
Maybe it’s that Jesse hasn’t shown up yet, but I’m over the bull poo. “Why do you even bother pretending? We all know Fortuna’s going to win.” I nod down the line, where Fortuna Dryden is passing out slices of mocha almond fudge kringle with her eyes narrowed at me.
Monroe shrugs, looking past me at something in the distance. “We’re trying something different this year. Give us a chance.”
Clara smiles –an impressive feat given the amount of plastic surgery she’s had in her twenties– and links her arm with her brother’s. “Have a good day, Laura.”
I wave pointlessly and go back to handing out slices of kringle.
If Jesse doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to have to shoot him again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Jesse
Harbor parksin the overflow lot near the library. “I hope you know my wife is very upset that she could not accompany me today.”
“I’m sorry about that, Harbor.” I open the door and step out into the Wisconsin sunshine. My shoulder aches from the hours of inactivity, but I don’t care. Finally. Florida weather–whatever your barometer–is a fucking beast in the summer. St. Olaf, though? Clear skies, eighty degrees, light humidity. Hell, even the bugs seem disinclined to ruin the day’s festivities. Except, obviously, for ants. Those bastards will outlive Twinkies in an apocalypse. “Next time she’ll have to meet us at the airport.”
Harbor stands beside me, in a light blue polo shirt and seersucker shorts. A US Marshal in seersucker. Who would have thought? “I can’t believe you did the one thing I told you not to do.”
“I know.” I grin and mimic his posture. “But Laura’s special.”
Harbor starts down the street toward the Lutheran church. “They’re always special.”
This place is way bigger than I anticipated. I thought it would be a small church carnival, like the ones in my grandma’s town in Georgia. This is a whole event.
Trust St. Olaf to turn a fruit into an extravaganza. There’s even a guy—nope, not just any guy, that’s Rove the sanitation guy—walking around in a red-and-yellow clown costume and stilts. It’s terrifying. Children run from him like he’s carrying boiled Brussels sprouts instead of three worn juggling balls.
Harbor claps me on the back. “Have fun and good luck, Jesse.” I don’t need it. Laura is all the luck I want. “Thank you for being the one non-mob asshole I’ve had to relocate. I’ll let you know when it’s time to testify, and I spoke with Rory, who will keep you updated on Chris’s trial.” Esme was arrested last month, too, on conspiracy charges. I thought I’d enjoy seeing the woman who dragged me into the mess imprisoned, but I only felt numb. I don’t care about Esme any more. She was a part of my past, but she has no place in my future. “Don’t get into trouble again, okay? I really don’t want to see you unless it’s at Snow Angel Fest.”