getting back to old-time bartering. They make flowers. You give them sewing pointers. Why don’t you take the sewing machines from the house? You and your mama sure made a lot of clothing on them when you were these kids’ age and they’re still set up in the sewin’ room. They could use one at the store and take the other one home with them.”
Mitzi laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “That would be great, Dad.”
Graham leaned toward her and whispered, “I’d be glad to pay for the lessons.”
“If you do, then I’ll have to put them on the payroll for the work they’ll do with flowers,” she answered.
“Then I guess we’ll call it an even swap.” He stuck out his hand to shake on the deal.
Mitzi shook with him and wasn’t a bit surprised at the warmth his touch created. “It’s a deal.”
“So we can come work every day at three?” Dixie asked.
“Why don’t you make it right after lunch? Say twelve thirty,” Mitzi said.
The girls high-fived and then pulled a couple of pens from their purses and began to draw on their napkins.
“This is great,” Alice said. “I was trying to figure out something for them to do this summer. I coach a summer-league softball team, but as you probably already know, they’re not into that at all.”
“I’m glad to have the help.” Mitzi was excited to have the girls in the shop every afternoon, but that wasn’t what made her heart throw in extra beats that day. Every time she inhaled, she got a whiff of Graham’s shaving lotion; when he leaned over to whisper, the warmth of his breath caressed the soft spot under her ear.
The waitress finally made her way to their table and removed an order pad from her pocket. “Okay, folks, y’all ready to order? The Sunday special is turkey and dressin’, hot rolls, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce, and green beans. Sweet tea comes with the meal and so does dessert—pecan pie, chocolate pie, peach cobbler or blackberry.”
“That’s what I want,” Dixie said. “And I’ll have chocolate pie for dessert.”
“Same here,” Tabby said, and the two of them handed their menus to the waitress.
Harry’s order included the pecan pie and Fanny Lou’s the chocolate.
“Peach cobbler,” Graham and Mitzi said at the same time.
“I’ll have the special with blackberry cobbler.” Alice handed her menu across to the waitress and then focused on Graham and Mitzi. “Looks like you two are in sync when it comes to dessert.”
Mitzi wouldn’t mind being in sync with him on where to eat that peach cobbler, like in the middle of a big king-size bed after a rousing bout of hot sex. At that thought, she could feel heat crawling from her neck to her cheeks. She picked up a paper napkin and fanned her face. “It’s sure warm in here, isn’t it?”
“Kind of cool to me,” Paula said.
“It’s probably hot flashes startin’ in on you,” Fanny Lou whispered.
Mitzi wanted to crawl under the table. “I don’t think so.”
“Can you believe these tall nieces of mine aren’t interested in softball or basketball?” Alice asked from across the big, round table.
“We’re going to take fashion design in college and grow up to be like Mitzi,” Dixie said. “We’ll have our own shop for bigger teenage girls. Only we want to design things that girls wear all the time, not just for formal affairs.”
Alice giggled. “Graham, who would have thought a Harrison would say something like that?”
“I know. They must be a throwback to our ancestors from the Civil War,” he chuckled.
“Yep, I know exactly what you’re talkin’ about,” Harry said. “All Mitzi ever wanted to do was sew. When Paula’s sister got married a couple of years ago, these three”—he nodded toward Jody, Paula, and Mitzi—“designed and made the dress. And that’s when they all really got the fever to put in their own shop.”
“Some of us don’t like to sweat.” Mitzi winked at the girls.
Unless it would be during a hot little makeout session with Graham. Paula’s voice rang in her head.
Go away. You’re makin’ me blush, she argued.
The waitress brought their sweet tea, and Paula flashed Mitzi a look and a nod of the head that Mitzi interpreted to say, You’re right beside him. You would have given up your sweet little Mustang in high school for an opportunity like this and you haven’t said a dozen words to him.