𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭 || ᴊᴇɴʟɪsᴀ

𝐟 𝐢 𝐟 𝐭 𝐞 𝐞 𝐧

We met Mama at the markets near the tea stand, then lost her somewhere between a barbeque stall and the guy doing sketches for five dollars. I needed to regroup with an ice cream and start the search. She could have been anywhere but my guess was the Coopers’ blown glass display or one of the food stalls.

I tugged Lisa toward Maureen Barton’s ice cream stand. It’d been a fixture at the markets for as long as I remembered and she sold one thing and one thing only—vanilla ice cream she made herself with milk from her own cows. A few years back, she put the price up from eighty cents to eighty-five and it’d caused a huge fuss. She was reluctant but she said it was, “About time to account for inflation.”

Maureen leaned over the edge of the wooden counter. “Jen-nie. How are you, honey? Haven’t seen you for a bit.”

“Howdy, Maureen. I’m just fine. You’re lookin’ well. Hello, Hank.” I nodded to her husband who sat silently and unresponsively in back, reading his paper the way he always did.

Maureen shrugged. “Can’t complain. What can I get you?”

“Two cones, thank you.” I dug in my pocket but Lisa placed a hand on my wrist to stop me. She pulled a couple of notes from her wallet and passed them to Maureen, along with the sweetest smile. A weird sensation snaked under my skin. It took a moment for me to connect the dots.
Lisa and I shared. We both bought meals when we ate together, and now she was buying me an ice cream. I tucked the feeling out of the way to be examined later. While Maureen was sorting change in her quiet methodical way, I asked if she’d seen Mama.

Maureen reached over to drop coins in Lisa's outstretched hand. “Believe I saw her over near Pete Windham’s plant stall ’bout ten minutes ago.” Lisa tilted her palm to empty the coins into the tip jar.

I added all the loose change from my pocket as well. “Great, thanks. Good to see y’all.”

“You too, honey.”

Lisa waited until we were a few feet away before launching her attack. “Y’all.” The delight in her teasing was clear as day.

I groaned. “I know, it just happens. I can’t help it.”

“I like it.” Her tongue made a lap around the bottom of her ice cream, the slow and deliberate movement making me think of her tongue making laps around other things.

I blinked the thought away. “Please don’t.”

“I meant the ice cream.” Her eyes twinkled. She had her lips clamped together, watching me. “I’m sorry, Nini.”

“Why d’you tease?” Ice cream trickled against my fingers. I raised my hand to lick it off.

“Because you’re so adorable when you blush that I just can’t help myself. And that little crease near your lips drives me crazy.” She stepped closer and I thought she was going to kiss me, right there in the open. I found myself leaning closer, wanting it.

Lisa smiled down at me, eyes drifting to my lips. “Come on, let’s go find your mom.”

After five minutes, we found Mama buying scarves and feigning surprised forgetfulness at having lost us. She was sneaky, I had to give her that. I endured ten minutes of having scarves held against my chest, with Lisa and my mother engaging in a serious back and forth about which ones suited me best. I bought the two Lisa seemed to like the most then we wandered for another half hour, until Mama declared she’d had enough and was going to fetch something for dinner. She hugged both of us and promised to see us back at home. “No later than five, hear me?”

Yep, I was twelve all over again. Lisa and I kept wandering and I thanked every deity—and added in the universe for good measure—that she’d finally given up ribbing me about the uninvited guest that was my renewed southern drawl. We passed by a food stand run by Mr. Gardener, my eleventh grade math teacher. Mr. G had retired last year and now spent some of his free time hawking barbeque at the markets. I waved.