Dogwood Days (8 page)

“Miss you too. You should come visit. Bring me some more clothes.”

“I might. Maybe in a couple weeks. I should have a weekend off soon.”

They ended the call, and Jefferson pushed the covers off his body. He pouted as he pulled on a T-shirt and went downstairs to check on his uncle. As he’d expected, he found Uncle Sherman in the kitchen, trying to balance a carton of eggs in his hand as he wobbled on the crutches.

Jefferson grabbed the eggs and scowled at his uncle.

“What? I was hungry.”

“Then you should have called me.”

Uncle Sherman huffed.

“Don’t make that noise at me. You know what Dr. Alley said.”

“I can’t even cook my own breakfast?”

“No. But I can get you some Pop-Tarts from Burkey’s Market if you want.”

From the look on his uncle’s face, Jefferson took that as a no.

“Not a Pop-Tart fan, I take it?”

“Jefferson Lee, those things taste like cardboard.”

“No, they don’t. You don’t know what you’re missing. I really like the cherry ones, although the brown sugar cinnamon are a close second.”

Uncle Sherman rolled his eyes and hobbled toward the dining room. “Do you even know how to cook eggs with eating habits like those?”

“Yeah. I can manage some scrambled eggs. You want toast too? I’m clearly really good at working the toaster. I can get those Pop-Tarts the perfect color and temperature, and you wouldn’t believe how difficult of a combination that is to achieve.”

“What I believe is that you really like the sound of your own voice this morning.”

“Oh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. That makes two of us. Sorry I was foul last night, by the way.”

“You weren’t that bad. I saw that Sheriff Zane dropped you off.”

“Oh, come on. You already know what happened.”

“I do. What I don’t know is what had you so upset. Selma Jane told everyone in town you were trying to surprise the kids and Mr. Cornwall had ruined it by calling the sheriff on you.”

Jefferson smirked. “Yeah. I love that woman.”

“She does facilitate communication quite effectively in town.”

“Yeah, she’s a big old gossipmonger. I hear ya.”

Uncle Sherman snickered and carefully lowered himself onto one of the dining room chairs. He pushed another chair out, then lifted his braced leg onto the seat with a pained sigh.

“Hurts?”

“It’s a bit painful this morning. I’m afraid I’ll need one of those painkillers after all.”

“Wait, didn’t you take one last night? I gave you one.”

“I didn’t think I needed it.”

“Uncle Sherman! You’ve got to take them at least for a couple days. You’ve got to let your body focus on healing and not on dealing with the pain. I read an article all about this.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“You were trying to tough it out. I get it. But take ’em for at least today and maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“No promises.”

“We are so much alike sometimes it scares me.”

They shared a smile before Jefferson began to crack eggs into the bowl. He’d just gotten them mixed up when someone knocked on the door.

“Seriously, do you always have this many visitors? This place is like Grand Central.”

“Happily, yes. You know I love company.”

“Yeah. Let me get that. You sit still. Do not touch those eggs.”

“Fine.”

Jefferson wandered to the front door and peeked out before he opened it. The mayor stood outside holding a casserole dish. “Morning, Charles.”

“Morning, Jefferson Lee. I brought breakfast.”

“Thanks. Uncle Sherman’s in the kitchen. I’m making eggs. In my boxers. Dang. Guess I should go put some pants on since we have company. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Charles smiled and headed for the back of the house while Jefferson hurried upstairs and pulled on the jeans he’d worn the day before. He listened carefully at the top of the stairs to make sure an argument hadn’t already commenced before he went back down there.

Luckily things seemed peaceful. Jefferson walked back into the kitchen and found the mayor sitting at the opposite end of the table from Sherman. The casserole dish the mayor had carried in was sitting in the center of the table, unopened.

“Jefferson Lee, would you make the mayor a cup of coffee, please?”

“Uh, sure,” Jefferson replied, wondering why the mayor didn’t just make it himself. Everyone else seemed to make themselves at home in Uncle Sherman’s kitchen. “So what’d you bring us, Mayor?”

“Hash brown casserole.”

“Oh, nice one. Doing the breakfast casserole instead of the dinner ones. Good thinking.”

“I try.”

“Well, the pie brigade hasn’t started yet, but I’m thinking later today.”

“You’d be right. I heard that Burkey’s Market is nearly out of fruit after yesterday afternoon’s rush. Word got out Sherman was home, and the baking started.”

Jefferson chuckled as he filled the coffee pot with water and added the grounds. He started the pot perking before continuing where he’d left off with the eggs. “It’ll be a few minutes for the coffee. Want me to add a couple eggs for you? It’s no trouble.”

“That would be nice.”

Jefferson caught the glare his uncle sent his way, and so did Charles, who smirked and leaned back happily in his seat. So he was now a weapon in the war. Check. Oh, maybe this would be a chance for him to play double agent. Double-cross them both just for kicks and giggles. Could be fun. Maybe Clover would help.

After he poured the eggs into the hot skillet, Jefferson pulled out his phone and sent her a text.
Do you wanna help me traumatize Uncle S. and the mayor?

It only took a few seconds before his phone beeped at him.

No. But I’ve been itching to play Cupid for them for years.

Cupid?
Jefferson replied.

Wait. So the whole war thing was really the world’s worst version of flirting. That made so much sense it was scary. Why hadn’t he realized that before now?

Of course, Cupid. Are you really that blind?
Only Clover could make a text message sound scathing. The woman had talent.

Maybe.
He replied.
You get lucky yet?

I hate you. What brought this on, anyway?

I’m minutes away from the most awkward breakfast ever.

I’m on my way.

Jefferson cackled and put his phone away. He gave the eggs a stir and glanced over at the two unsuspecting victims sitting at the dining room table. This was going to be so much fun. He set the table, neglecting to put a plate out for Clover. No need to let them know she was coming and give the mayor a chance to make a break for it.

With another evil grin, he added napkins, forks, and knives to the table. The coffee finished perking, so he poured all three of them mugs while sneakily turning the kettle on for Clover’s tea. When the knock sounded at the door, Jefferson practically skipped down the hall and pulled it open.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

The sheriff grinned. “Oh really?”

Jefferson scowled. “I thought you were someone else.”

Zane’s grin faded. “Oh really?”

Jefferson huffed. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

Before Zane could answer, Clover appeared at the end of the driveway. She must have hauled ass over there, but not a hair was out of place, and her sweater set was a perfect peachy-pink that Clover always said was her power color. Oh boy. This was gonna be fun.

“Finally. What took you so long?” Jefferson asked Clover.

“Shut up. Morning, Sheriff Zane.”

“Morning, Clover.”

“So what’s the plan?” Jefferson asked.

“Just sit back and watch the master at work. You might learn a thing or two. Sheriff, you joining us for breakfast?”

“Uh, I wasn’t—”

“Good,” she cut him off. “We’d love to have you. Let’s do this, shall we?”

Jefferson grinned and looked up at the sheriff. “You’re gonna want to see this. She’s awesome.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nope. And, uh, sorry about yesterday.”

“What about yesterday?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Uh, stalking the school?”

Jefferson huffed. “No. The eyes thing. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

He pretended he hadn’t started blushing as he closed the front door and hurried down the hall to get out more plates. He’d have to make some more eggs too. And probably more coffee. Dammit. He was not meant to be a host.

Luckily for him, he had Clover. The sheriff sat down at the table after receiving greetings from both the other men seated there. Uncle Sherman sent him a curious look, but Zane simply shrugged. Clover bustled around the kitchen and had the eggs already back out on the counter.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Uncle Sherman. Sorry to just drop in like this, but I just had to see for myself that you were going to be all right.” Clover smiled and practically batted her eyelashes.

Sherman and the mayor were charmed.

Jefferson almost gagged.

Clover elbowed him in the side. “Jefferson Lee, why don’t you get everyone some fresh coffee?”

He rolled his eyes but grabbed the pot and did as he was told. He went ahead and added the additional place settings before being asked. Maybe he’d get a nice pat on the head and a “good boy.”

Clover already had the next batch of scrambled eggs going. How the hell she’d done it so fast was beyond him. “This will only take a minute. So tell me, Uncle Sherman, are you really okay?”

“Aww, Clover. Don’t worry about me,” Uncle Sherman replied. “I’m tougher than I look. I’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” she cooed. “And we owe it all to the sheriff.”

Jefferson blinked. The mayor sat up straighter.

“We do?” Jefferson asked.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I mean, he just ran right over here on his day off, within mere minutes of getting the call. I know how scared you must have been for him, Sheriff. You’re so wonderful to care
so
much about a member of our community.”

Zane was beginning to look slightly terrified. Jefferson couldn’t blame him.

The mayor had a deep frown line in his forehead, and he’d begun to send suspicious glances the sheriff’s way.

“He saved your life, Uncle Sherman. What a hero!”

She carried the eggs over to the table and began to serve everyone both the eggs and the casserole during a silence that stretched awkwardly. The sheriff shifted nervously in his seat when Jefferson sat down next to him.

“I’d have done the same for anyone, Ms. Clover.”

“Oh, come on now, Sheriff Zane. I know better. You’ve stopped by here to check on Uncle Sherman several times since the accident. Definitely above and beyond the call of duty.” She winked at him and sent him a knowing grin.

The mayor blanched.

So did the sheriff.

Jefferson’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God. You totally have.”

Zane reached under the table and grabbed Jefferson’s knee. He squeezed it. Hard. Jefferson yelped and smacked it away.

Uncle Sherman looked confused. “Now, Clover—”

“It’s so sweet, really. I’m just so, so happy the sheriff was here for you. Now enough about that, as I’m clearly embarrassing you both. Mayor, weren’t you away on a fishing trip this weekend?”

The mayor bit out a reply, and everyone began to eat. Clover handled the conversation, as no one else seemed capable of speaking. Jefferson couldn’t help shooting a puzzled glance at the sheriff, only to find Zane staring right back at him. The idea of Zane actually having a thing for Uncle Sherman shouldn’t make Jefferson feel… anything. Well, anything but happy for his uncle. Which he was. Wasn’t he?

Yes. He was. Although he was now even more embarrassed over his comment about the sheriff’s eyes. Hell’s bells. What must Zane think?

Uncle Sherman shifted in his chair and let out a small grunt of pain. Everyone’s gaze turned to him.

“Uncle Sherman? You okay?” Jefferson asked.

“I’m afraid you were right about that painkiller, Jefferson Lee. I think I’ll go take one and get this leg propped up.”

“I’ll help,” Charles said, and jumped to his feet before anyone else could move.

“Thank you, Charles.”

As his uncle and the mayor left the room, Clover sat back in her chair and smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

Zane looked livid. “What the hell was that?”

Clover smiled, but it faded at the glare she was receiving. “They needed a gentle nudge, Sheriff Zane. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“Did you know about this?” Zane turned his dark gaze to Jefferson.

“I knew about the nudging, but not that you were part of it.”

“Jefferson Lee, will you walk me out, please?” The sheriff stood and began walking down the hall.

Jefferson gave Clover a confused look before he followed.

At the door the sheriff turned and looked at Jefferson. He stared for a long moment before shaking his head sadly.

“Why is it that you can see everyone else in this town so clearly, but you can’t see me?” Zane didn’t wait for a response. He opened the door and left without another word.

“THIS IS
a bad idea,” Jefferson mumbled to himself. The refrigerated section at Burkey’s Market had a limited selection of “I’m sorry” cookie dough, go figure, but as Burkey’s Market was his only option that didn’t involve an hour round-trip drive, Jefferson decided to take what he could get. But what to pick?

Mr. Burkey wandered over after Jefferson had stared at the choices for nearly five minutes. “Can I help you, Jefferson Lee?”

“Probably not.”

Mr. Burkey patted Jefferson on the shoulder, his big hand nearly knocking Jefferson over. “Can’t believe you and Sherman are out of sweets already. Need me to put the word out?”

“Oh, no. This is… uh, no. I’m just looking.”

“Well, alrighty. If you need anything, just holler.”

“Thanks, Mr. Burkey. Ms. Debbie doing well?”

“She is, she is. Still working over at the school. Loves it, even though all our kids are grown now. Keeps an eye on the grandkids, though, and that’s how she likes it.”