“I’d damn sure say something. What people think of you can have a big bearing on the way your life turns out.”
“Oh, really? People thought I was a privileged person, and look what I’m doin’ for a livin’,” Jennie Sue said. “I’m cleanin’ houses, reorganizing a used-book store, pickin’ vegetables in the evening, and puttin’ up with a barely friend. And if that’s not bad enough, I’m doin’ my own hair and fingernails, and I only have one color of polish.”
Cricket glanced down at her bare feet, and Jennie Sue followed her gaze.
“Your toenails look like crap, but Mama would stroke out if she could see mine. Want me to do them for you after we get done with the harvest tonight?”
Cricket fiddled with her bandage and bit at her lower lip. “Are you crazy? Why would you do that after what I just told you?”
“What you said has nothing to do with your nails, does it?” Jennie Sue asked.
She looked down at her feet. “They are in a mess.”
“Then let’s take care of them. Do you have a file and polish and maybe some decent lotion?”
Cricket pointed toward a closed door. “In a shoe box on the shelf in my closet.”
“Good. Then we’ll make them pretty after I get done with the crops.” She handed Cricket a knife and a small bowl of washed vegetables. “Make yourself useful instead of bitchin’ about everything. You can slice tomatoes and cucumbers while you are sitting there.”
Cricket raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to trust me with a knife?”
“I can run faster than you can,” Jennie Sue said.
If someone had told her ten years ago that Jennie Sue Baker would ever be sitting in her house doing her toenails, Cricket would have asked them what they’d been drinking. But there she was on the floor with a pan of warm water, towels, and a shoe box full of Cricket’s nail supplies.
Jennie Sue handed her the small box. “Pick your color while I get them trimmed and the cuticles in shape. I can also do french nails if you want those.”
“Do I get to pick a color for my toenails when you get hers done?” Rick asked.
Jennie Sue nodded seriously. “Red would be real nice on you.”
Good Lord, were they flirting? Cricket rolled her eyes.
“No, thank you,” Rick said.
“Ah, come on. Be adventurous.” Jennie Sue wrapped Cricket’s bum foot in a hot, wet towel.
“No, thank you. All the other guys in town would be jealous. You’d have a line from one end of Main Street to the other of men wanting their nails done,” Rick told her.
“I’ve still got Sunday afternoons fairly free. I could do nails then.” Jennie Sue grinned.
Yes, they were definitely flirting. Cricket sighed. But she wouldn’t think about that now, not when Jennie Sue was giving her an amazing mani-pedi. This might raise her status to a barely friend for sure.
After a couple of minutes, Jennie Sue removed the towel and dropped it into the hot water, then she started to work on Cricket’s toenails. “Do you like them square or rounded?”
“Round,” Cricket answered.
“Me, too. Never could get used to those square things,” Jennie Sue said.
A memory of Percy telling her that her nails looked like an old lady’s flashed through her mind. She’d come home from the salon, where she’d had them painted a pale pink to go with a dress she planned to wear to a party that evening.
“Modern women wear bright colors and square nails. And good God, Jennifer”—he’d never called her Jennie Sue because that sounded too redneck for him—“whoever did that horrible job left a dab of polish on your big toe. That’s unacceptable.”
She’d learned to do her own nails from then on. Unacceptable in his world was the worst thing in the whole universe.
When she finished with that foot, she stood up. “Now scoot forward while I go get more warm water. The polish should be dry enough so that it won’t smear.”
“Looks like you’ve done this before,” Rick said.
“Lots of times,” she said.
“Why didn’t you have yours done professionally?” Cricket asked.
“I did for a while,” Jennie Sue said. “By doing them myself I didn’t have to smell all those awful chemicals.”
“Amen to that,” Cricket said. “So you definitely aren’t leaving Bloom to go into the nail business.”
“Nope, hopefully I’m leaving to get a start somewhere on the bottom rung of a corporate ladder if I’m lucky,” she answered.
“And if not?”
“Then as a glorified secretary in a used-car dealership,” Jennie Sue answered. “What about you, Cricket? If you could be anything in life, what would it be?”
“What I really want to be . . .” Cricket paused.
“She wants to be a gossip columnist. If you can make that happen, then I’d like for you to invent a time machine so I can go back and sidestep the bomb that turned me into a disabled veteran,” Rick said. “That way I’d still be a whole man doin’ what I love in the military.”
“I want to someday make cupcakes for my kids like my mama did for us. We always had something homemade for an after-school snack,” Cricket blurted out.
Jennie Sue was shocked that Cricket would admit that much in front of her. “I could go for one of your mama’s cupcakes right now, maybe even two or three.”
“To have kids, I’ll need a husband. Rick says I’ll never find anyone who can put up with my bluntness,” Cricket said.
Jennie Sue jerked her head around to face Cricket. “What’s the matter with that? At least people know where they stand with you and that you won’t turn your back on them.”
“Speakin’ from experience?” Cricket asked.
“More than once.” Jennie Sue nodded. “Now prop your foot up here on my knee and we’ll get this one done and go on to your fingernails.”
It was almost ten o’clock when Cricket said, “Thank you for everything, Jennie Sue. It’s past time for Rick to take you home. The news tomorrow will be that you’ve stayed out here later than usual and that he might have to make an honest woman out of you.”
Rick felt the heat start on his neck and climb all the way to his cheeks. “What a time to find out my sister has a sense of humor.”
“I reckon my reputation can handle another black mark,” Jennie Sue said.
“But mine can’t. Someone might think I was changing my mind about you,” Cricket said with her usual sarcasm as she tucked her crutches under her arms. “See you bright and early in the morning, Rick. I’m lookin’ forward to going to the market and seeing all the people.”
“Well, honey”—Jennie Sue’s tone was saccharine sweet—“when they find out that we spent the evening doing your nails, they’re going to know that we’re friends.”
“I’m not tellin’ anyone that, and if you do, I’ll take back the barely friends promotion,” Cricket said.
Rick couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not and didn’t want get into it with her. He turned to Jennie Sue and said, “Thanks for what you do for us. You ready to go home?”
“Not just yet. I’d like a glass of sweet tea.” Jennie Sue took down her ponytail and raked her fingers through her long, blonde hair.
Mesmerized by her actions, Rick wished that his hands were the ones tangled up in her hair. He blinked half a dozen times and finally got to his feet. “I’ll take care of the tea while you dump the water.”
She was sitting on the end of the sofa when he returned. He handed her a full glass of sweet tea and sat down on the other end. “I was surprised to hear Cricket admit that she wanted to be a wife and mother. She’s always told me that she wanted to be a gossip columnist.”
“Dreams change with age.” She took a long drink of her tea.
Rick set his glass on the end table, picked up her feet, and put them in his lap. He started massaging her left foot, digging deep into the heel.
“You’ve missed your callin’,” she groaned. “You should be a masseur.”