Manhunting in Mississippi. Stephanie Bond

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      Striving to remain civil, Piper gripped the inside door handle and said, “You probably shouldn’t count on it, Len. Why don’t you order her something special?”

      He snapped his fingers. “Good idea. I’ll call the day-old bakery and see if they’ve got something that ain’t too hard.”

      She smiled tightly, feeling a pang of sympathy for sweet old Mrs. Kern. “Good luck, Len.” She closed the door and rammed the key into the ignition, her motions further hurried by the sight of Lenny loping off the porch and toward the van. He stopped and banged on the window, leaving large greasy fingerprints.

      Reluctantly, Piper rolled down the window two inches. “I’m running late, Len.”

      He smoothed a hand over his uncombed raggedy mane of dark hair and grinned. He really wasn’t a bad-looking man, he was just so…base. “Since I’m havin’ Mom a party, why don’t you come over for a piece of cake, say, oh, about seven? We’ll watch ‘Wheel of Fortune’ together.”

      “I’ll try to stop by and wish Margaret a happy birthday,” she said pleasantly, nodding and rolling up the window at the same time she eased down the driveway.

      “I’ll get out my baby pictures!” Len yelled, trotting alongside the van until she cut the wheels, prompting him to jump back into the wet grass to prevent a crushed bare foot.

      Piper heaved a sigh of relief as she pulled away, but guilt struck her when she saw Lenny’s shoulders sag in her rearview mirror. After staying up late to read The Sexton Sisters’ Secret Guide to Marrying a Good Man, she’d gone to sleep with a smile on her lips and determination in her heart to keep an open mind where Mudville men were concerned. But at the first sight of her persistent neighbor this morning, her mind had banged shut like a newly oiled door. And although she was a little more than positive that Lenny Kern did not hold the key to her destiny, she renewed her pledge to give every eligible man that crossed her path a fair assessment.

      Low-hanging black clouds crowded the sky as she pulled into the nearly deserted parking lot of a video rental store to return three movies. It looked like rain for sure. Rain wasn’t all that unusual for a summer day in Mississippi, but this one day, Piper had forgotten her umbrella. Still, perhaps a shower would alleviate some of the ever-present humidity, she thought hopefully.

      Piper reached around to loosen her blouse from her sticky back and glanced at the movies in her hand with a faint pang of embarrassment. Was there a flick she hadn’t seen? Black-and-white, Technicolor or colorized, romance, action or science fiction—she loved them all. For ninety minutes she could escape, finding a new life infinitely more interesting and fulfilling than hers.

      It wasn’t as though she didn’t love her job as a food scientist—she did. And despite her good-natured complaints about living in a small town, she enjoyed the sense of community in Mudville. But she realized last night while reading the manhunting guide that although she’d spent years convincing herself she didn’t want a man, she’d been fooling herself. She wanted her own happy ending, and as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted a loving companion by her side when the credits on her life rolled by.

      She had just slid the tapes into a night drop box when a sound from the front of the store drew her attention. Henry Walden, owner of Videoville and town playboy, stuck his head out the door. “Piper Shepherd, is that you?”

      Piper stared at the man who’d barely looked her way the five hundred or so times she’d been in his store. He had pale hair and tanned skin and seemingly row upon row of brilliantly white teeth. Henry wore his usual uniform of tight jeans, black pointed-toe boots and sleeveless shirt that showed off the tiger’s-head tattoo on his left biceps. Although he looked to be in his mid-to late-thirties, he typically kept company with girls half his age. And twice her bra size.

      Still, Henry was eligible, and handsome in a flashy kind of way. She remembered her pledge and smiled up at him. “Who does it look like, Henry?”

      He seemed mesmerized by her legs. “I’m not sure—you look so…so…I’ve never seen you wear a dress.”

      Satisfaction and surprise warmed her. Were men so superficial that a simple change of clothes could elicit such a response? She was the same person she’d been yesterday, wearing drawstring khakis and an oversize T-shirt. Her scuffed clogs were substantially more comfortable than these toe-pinching pumps, so she was relatively sure she looked happier in her old clothes.

      “Funeral?” he asked, utterly serious.

      “No,” she retorted. “Can’t a girl dress up once in a while?”

      He crossed his muscular arms and pursed his lips, surveying her as if he’d just made a discovery. “Absolutely,” he said. “Listen, Piper, I’ve been meaning to call you and see if you’d like to go out sometime. What do you say?”

      Not quite sure if he was asking her out or asking her if he could ask her out, Piper nodded. “That would be nice…I think.”

      He nodded confidently, as if he expected no less than her acquiescence, and chewed on the inside of his cheek. A smile curved his fetching mouth as he studied her legs. The silence stretched between them until Piper felt as if she stood on two juicy drumsticks.

      She gestured toward her van, which was still running. “Well, I guess I’d better be going.”

      Henry, nodding and chewing, watched her while she climbed inside awkwardly, aware of the expanse of thigh she revealed in the process. Embarrassment mixed with doubt and anticipation made her queasy as she drove away, and she suddenly remembered why she’d stopped dating in the first place—it hadn’t been worth the strain. She’d barely begun her day, and she was already exhausted. Still, she was making progress. She had the threat of a date anyway.

      More out of habit than necessity, Piper slowed at the caution light before proceeding onto Patty Richards Kegley Boulevard, the main thoroughfare of town. Twenty-two years ago Patty Richards Kegley had made the mistake of stepping out onto what had then been called Main Street in front of the single Mudville fire truck as it rushed to a grease fire at the drive-in on the far end of town. For her misfortune, she’d been immortalized in street signs, and the drive-in had created a sandwich in her name. Piper hoped if she herself incurred a mortal wound within city limits, she would at least warrant an entrée.

      The Mudville morning rush hour typically dragged on for a full fifteen minutes when nearly one hundred workers leaving the midnight to 7:00 a.m. shift at Blythe Industries food plant clogged Kegley Boulevard in a semimad dash for a window seat at either Tucker’s Good Food Place or Alma’s Eats. Piper avoided the tangle by timing her commute for seven-thirty, which gave her ample time for the ten-minute drive and a cup of coffee before she donned her lab apron at eight.

      The rain started falling in sheets just as the company’s familiar blue and gray concrete sign came into view. Blythe Industries lay long and wide in a carved-out section of woods about a mile outside of town, past Trim’s Food Market, the new high school and the old car wash. Pure coincidence had landed her the job of chief food scientist when the plant opened a year ago. She’d been visiting her grandmother and they’d run into Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Blythe over apple oatmeal at Alma’s. The businessman had been ecstatic to learn of Piper’s educational and professional background and offered her a job on the spot. Not entirely thrilled with her position as a label-ingredient tester at a Biloxi packager, and eager to be near her aging grandmother, Piper had accepted. The money was better than average and she’d made quite a dent in her college loans, but she found it amusing that she, who was allergic to chocolate and averse СКАЧАТЬ