“It’s great. Aside from the produce and, of course, the granola.” She nodded to The Salsa Man who had made his way back down the table and started to pack up his samples. “I’m really impressed with all the art. Such beautiful work. I picked up greeting cards from the oil painter. And those basket weavers, I could watch them all day. Such a complicated and tedious craft, I would never have the patience.”
“Yea, it’s a creative bunch around here,” J.P. said proudly. “Why don’t you throw a jar of your famous pineapple salsa in Kenny’s bag, put it on my tab.” He motioned to The Salsa Man.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to pay for my salsa.” Kenny giggled.
“Think of it as an apology from Cliff. But I warn you, the stuff is more addicting than any of that granola you were loading up on.”
Confirmed. He witnessed me shoveling bite-sized samples of seeds into my big mouth. God, I hope I don’t have anything in my teeth.
She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to eat again but said, “Well, thank you to Cliff! And I’ll heed your warning. Where is your little wingman today?”
“Follow me,” J.P. motioned to Kenny while waving goodbye to The Salsa Man.
“Catch you later, man! Nice to meet you, Kenny. Hope to see you next week,” The Salsa Man smiled.
“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied, picking up her, now very heavy, burlap bag and trying to pretend she wasn’t bursting on the inside from J.P.’s “follow me” direction.
“Cliff is down here with his old roommates,” J.P. said as he led Kenny down the back ramp of the pavilion.
She hadn’t noticed the large fenced-in grassy area behind the pavilion where at least a dozen dogs playfully ran in circles.
“About two months ago, the Hilton Head Dog Shelter started showing up on Thursdays. They quickly turned into one of the biggest attractions. Even if the dogs don’t get adopted, it’s still a win-win. Canine therapy is good for the soul and the shelter workers are happy the dogs get some much-needed attention and exercise for a few hours. I just happen to be one of the suckers who came for produce one day and eventually ended up with a puppy.” J.P. grinned, as he took a sip of the iced coffee he purchased from the Island Beans vendor.
“Walks on the beach, playdates at the farmers market. Cliff seems to have hit the jackpot,” Kenny exclaimed.
As soon as she let out the words, she instantly regretted them. The last thing she wanted was to sound jealous of a dog. Even if Cliff was living a life better than most humans. Not to mention in a loving relationship with a doting man.
“How did you pick out Cliff from the rest?” Kenny said in a quick pivot hoping that he wouldn’t read into the fact that she wished it was she and J.P. taking walks on the beach and trips to the farmers market.
“Cliff really chose me. I had no intention of getting a dog. I work a lot, and it wouldn’t have been fair to adopt one of these guys and then never be home. But every Thursday, I’d stop over to play with the pups, and Cliff would always come right to me, like he did to you on the beach,” J.P. said in a way as if he just had a breakthrough in thought. “He was the shy one in the bunch, so it always surprised the workers. Anyway, my boss got wind of the story, he’s a big animal guy, and sits on the board at the shelter. A few months ago, the morning after a meeting at the shelter, he showed up at the office with Cliff. He said if I was able to care for him, I should keep him; and if he didn’t cause a nuisance, I could bring him to work. He’s been a staple at the office, since.”
“This Mr. Cunningham does sound like quite the guy. And what about the name? Did your boss choose the name, Cliff, too?” Kenny said as she squatted down to pet the homely looking dog that beelined to the fence as soon as it saw J.P.
“They don’t make them like Mr. C anymore. He’s the brains behind this market. When he found out that a small group of local farmers, who weren’t too well off themselves, were donating their crops to needy families, he started paying them for the produce they gave away. Then he bought this plot of land and erected the pavilion so they could gather and sell their goods to the masses. A lot of these little mom and pop vendors would never be able to afford to have brick and mortar stores.”
Kenny nodded with intrigue and admiration. She wondered why inspirational stories like Mr. Cunningham’s weren’t more widely shared in the news.
“As for Cliff, he came with that name.” J.P. shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been my first choice but I’m not sure he’s the brightest bulb and I thought it would’ve been too confusing for him to learn a new one,” he whispered as he put his hands over the dog’s ears so he wouldn’t hear the insult. “And my niece loved Clifford the Big Red Dog when she was a toddler. She really talked me into keeping the name.” J.P laughed, defending the choice.
Of course, he has a niece. She’s probably adorable and they clearly adore each other.
“Well, I think it suits him,” Kenny said as she stood to her feet and picked up the burlap bag. “I should start making my way back home. I want to get all of this produce out of the sun and into the fridge.”
“Cliff and I need to get back to the office, too. We’ve got a busy afternoon.” he said strapping the leash to the dog’s collar and picking him up and over the fence.
“It was great bumping into you, J.P. Thanks, again, for the salsa.” Kenny flashed a smile before turning and walking away.
The voice in Kenny’s heart told her to naively crane her neck and see if he was watching her walk away like the handsome men in Hallmark movies do. The voice in her head told her to stay the course, move on with her day and forget the whole encounter.
Nineteen
Text from Colby: Kenny, please. PLEASE call me. I need to talk to you. I need to apologize. I need to explain what happened. I need to know you’re OK. LYMIB.
Kenny stared at her phone and didn’t know whether to pick it up to her ear and call Colby or throw it into one of the decorative landscaping ponds that weaved throughout Pelican Pointe. While she contemplated the best course of action for handling the phone, she burst into tears. A lot of tears. Angry tears and sad tears.
She still felt betrayed and indignant, but she was deeply missing her best friend. A full week of not talking to Colby seemed like an eternity. So much had happened in the past seven days that she felt like she was leading a whole new life. But this text message with all the “I’s” infuriated her. She knew at some point she’d have to, would want to, talk to Colby again, and she thought it was better to get the first conversation out of the way while she was still partly mad and not completely hurt.
Kenny aggressively punched Colby’s number on the screen and before she had time to think about hanging up, he answered.
