She tapped her carefully French-manicured nails on the table. "First off, I didn't give it to him. He won the bid. But I put it out for bid in the first place because Skeeter Hatfield doubled his price."
"Too big for his britches," Uncle Mike muttered. He drained his iced tea and got up to pull sandwich fixings out of the fridge. "Just like his father. That man had a cash register where his brain ought to be."
I didn't know Mr. Hatfield other than to say hello to him, and he'd never been in the shop that I could recall. "How is that?"
"Skeeter wanted to buy an old truck of mine once. Offered a good five thousand dollars less than it was worth and then had the nerve to be offended when I turned him down."
I jumped up to help my uncle. "And he doubled what he was going to charge to do the fireworks?"
"Yes," Aunt Ruby said, indignation rising in her voice and deepening the pink flush in her cheeks. "Without notice or explanation. I told him there was no way we were paying that and put the thing out for bid. The only vendors who wanted the job, though, were Skeeter, Cletus, and some firm out of Orlando who wanted twice again what Skeeter was charging."
She snorted. "Like Dead End was going to pay that to outsiders."
We spent a few companionable minutes making sandwiches and tucking into lunch, and then I thought of what Cletus had said in the shop.
"This is a weird question, but did Bubba McKee ever give any indication that he was interested in me?"
Uncle Mike choked on his ham and cheese sandwich, and I had to reach over and pound him on the back.
"Guess not," I said, grinning.
But Aunt Ruby made that face … the one with pursed lips and downcast eyes she only made when she was trying really hardnotto say something.
I narrowed my eyes and pinned her with a stare. "Spit it out."
"Well. It's just that Bubba came over to the house once to ask Mike for your hand in marriage."
This time, I was the one who choked on my sandwich.
Uncle Mike took a little too much pleasure in returning the back-pounding favor.
"I'm good! Stop pounding on me! What are you talking about? Bubba McKee never even asked me out!" I shuddered at the thought of trying to make conversation on a date with a man whose closest friendship was with his boa constrictor.
"He was drunk," Uncle Mike said disapprovingly. "He'd seen you dressed up for the prom, I think it was, and decided you were his one true love."
I stared at him, completely speechless.
"We poured coffee into him until he sobered up, and then Mike gave him an earful," Aunt Ruby said cheerfully. "It was at least a year before he could run into us on the street without looking like he was going to die of mortification."
I shook my head. "That is the weirdest thing I've heard in a while. Cletus came into the shop, and he said Bubba called me 'the one who got away.' You can imagine my reaction."
Uncle Mike laughed. "Probably the same as mine when he showed up here drunk and ready to carry you off into the sunset."
"That boy wouldn't know which direction sunset was if he had a compass," Aunt Ruby said. "Bless his heart."
Uncle Mike and I started laughing, and then we finished our lunch and cleaned up the kitchen.
"I'm going to say hi to Bonnie Jo," I said, pushing on the screen door.
When I took a step out onto the back porch, though, I paused. "Um, Uncle Mike? Since when did you have fainting goats?"
"What are you talking about? I don't have fainting goats."
"Then what, exactly, are those?" I pointed to the field, where all the goats lay on their backs with their legs sticking straight up in the air.
He walked out onto the porch and blew out a breath. "Dang it."
"What?"
