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Authors: Alice J. Wisler
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garage. With her chin jutted out, she clamped her lips together and squeezed her eyes closed.
“Kiki.” He swallowed the urge to shout. Certainly, the girl wouldn’t throw a tantrum and hit him with the tool, would she? He was grateful when Mari stood by his side. Trying to speak softly, he said, “When you come back, we’ll have …” He paused as Mari looked at him. Have what? What did the kid like? “Chocolate,” he said. There, that was a safe bet; who didn’t like chocolate?
“Chocolate gives me gas.” She spoke quickly and then let her lips seal into a tight bow.
Noting his shocked expression, Mari smiled.
Gideon’s tension eased. He thought again and came up with, “Popsicles. How about those orange ones?”
“You mean Creamsicles?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Kiki’s arms released from their stance of protest. Her breathing resumed, and as her mouth relaxed she said, “Okay, let’s go.” She handed the wrench to Gideon, a sign of surrender.
He saw gratitude in Mari’s eyes as Kiki made her way to Mari’s parked car. The girl pulled open the door and plopped into the passenger seat, folding her arms across her chest again. Gideon watched the two drive off, the brakes of the Toyota squealing before Mari merged onto Main Street.
Like an early morning mist, the realization of his naïveté settled onto him. He’d made a mistake thinking that Mari was Kiki’s mother. He was just like his father—always jumping to conclusions. Always assuming the worst about a situation and acting before really thinking about it.
Back inside his office, he let the stupid feeling subside and began to think about possibilities. A date? Dinner somewhere nice was what he’d like to do on a first date. Would Mari go for that?
Ormond rattled his paper and called out that the Clemson Tigers beat Duke yesterday. “I love it when any team beats Duke,” he said. “Any team.” He went on to say he’d watched the game on TV and wondered if Gideon had happened to catch it.
Gideon, still contemplating about Mari, walked over to the older man’s desk. “You know I don’t watch sports.”
“You’re missing out.” Ormond grinned at a photo of Clemson fans with orange paws painted on their cheeks, cheering over the victory.
Gideon gave a weak smile, his thoughts far from any excited sports fans. He respected Ormond and decided that seeking his advice about a woman couldn’t hurt. Ormond had been happily married for forty-nine years. “Uh … well …”
“Something on your mind?” Ormond turned the page, folded the paper, and ran a palm over the comics.
“Yeah … I was … Do you think …?”
“All the time.” Ormond chuckled.
Gideon studied his fingertips, picking at dirt underneath boththumbnails. “Do you think I should ask her out?”
“You should take her to the music festival in Gatlinburg.”
He’d been there once with a girl back when he was still in his twenties. The evening they’d gone had been cool, and under a canopy they’d listened to a jazz band. He couldn’t recall any of the names of the tunes, but he did remember how Sandy, the girl, told him she wasn’t ready to seriously date him or anyone. As the band took a break, she gave the infamous line about just being friends. Gideon was sad to hear that she wasn’t interested in him, but agreed that if she needed time to “find herself,” that was best. Two weeks later, he’d heard Sandy was dating a doctor from Hendersonville.
Ormond lifted his gaze from the paper to look at Gideon. “Or the Oktoberfest,” he said.
“When is that?”
“It runs through the month of October. Does she like bratwurst?”
“I don’t know.” Gideon didn’t think he’d ever seen Mari eat anything. He knew she made pies early in the morning before Another Cup opened for business. Did she ever sample the ones she made? He felt a bit foolish
“Kiki.” He swallowed the urge to shout. Certainly, the girl wouldn’t throw a tantrum and hit him with the tool, would she? He was grateful when Mari stood by his side. Trying to speak softly, he said, “When you come back, we’ll have …” He paused as Mari looked at him. Have what? What did the kid like? “Chocolate,” he said. There, that was a safe bet; who didn’t like chocolate?
“Chocolate gives me gas.” She spoke quickly and then let her lips seal into a tight bow.
Noting his shocked expression, Mari smiled.
Gideon’s tension eased. He thought again and came up with, “Popsicles. How about those orange ones?”
“You mean Creamsicles?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Kiki’s arms released from their stance of protest. Her breathing resumed, and as her mouth relaxed she said, “Okay, let’s go.” She handed the wrench to Gideon, a sign of surrender.
He saw gratitude in Mari’s eyes as Kiki made her way to Mari’s parked car. The girl pulled open the door and plopped into the passenger seat, folding her arms across her chest again. Gideon watched the two drive off, the brakes of the Toyota squealing before Mari merged onto Main Street.
Like an early morning mist, the realization of his naïveté settled onto him. He’d made a mistake thinking that Mari was Kiki’s mother. He was just like his father—always jumping to conclusions. Always assuming the worst about a situation and acting before really thinking about it.
Back inside his office, he let the stupid feeling subside and began to think about possibilities. A date? Dinner somewhere nice was what he’d like to do on a first date. Would Mari go for that?
Ormond rattled his paper and called out that the Clemson Tigers beat Duke yesterday. “I love it when any team beats Duke,” he said. “Any team.” He went on to say he’d watched the game on TV and wondered if Gideon had happened to catch it.
Gideon, still contemplating about Mari, walked over to the older man’s desk. “You know I don’t watch sports.”
“You’re missing out.” Ormond grinned at a photo of Clemson fans with orange paws painted on their cheeks, cheering over the victory.
Gideon gave a weak smile, his thoughts far from any excited sports fans. He respected Ormond and decided that seeking his advice about a woman couldn’t hurt. Ormond had been happily married for forty-nine years. “Uh … well …”
“Something on your mind?” Ormond turned the page, folded the paper, and ran a palm over the comics.
“Yeah … I was … Do you think …?”
“All the time.” Ormond chuckled.
Gideon studied his fingertips, picking at dirt underneath boththumbnails. “Do you think I should ask her out?”
“You should take her to the music festival in Gatlinburg.”
He’d been there once with a girl back when he was still in his twenties. The evening they’d gone had been cool, and under a canopy they’d listened to a jazz band. He couldn’t recall any of the names of the tunes, but he did remember how Sandy, the girl, told him she wasn’t ready to seriously date him or anyone. As the band took a break, she gave the infamous line about just being friends. Gideon was sad to hear that she wasn’t interested in him, but agreed that if she needed time to “find herself,” that was best. Two weeks later, he’d heard Sandy was dating a doctor from Hendersonville.
Ormond lifted his gaze from the paper to look at Gideon. “Or the Oktoberfest,” he said.
“When is that?”
“It runs through the month of October. Does she like bratwurst?”
“I don’t know.” Gideon didn’t think he’d ever seen Mari eat anything. He knew she made pies early in the morning before Another Cup opened for business. Did she ever sample the ones she made? He felt a bit foolish
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