sparrow flew overheard looking jittery in the cold. Lark could certainly relate.
“The teen craft fair. Remember? You’re the one in charge of signing people up for the pies. Since I have my bike, we can load your Hummer.”
Lark’s hand flew to her mouth. “Pies? Teen craft fair. I wish I could plead amnesia.”
Jeremy frowned. “You’re sweet, but you’re not going to be able to charm your way out of this one.”
“Oh, dear. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Lark asked. I can’t believe I forgot.
“We’ve got a snag if you don’t have thirty pies.”
Lark smiled, wishing she could disappear. “I don’t have any. . . I mean I didn’t—”
“You didn’t sign anybody up?” Jeremy’s mouth popped open like he’d jumped off a cliff without the cord.
“No. But I can buy a lot of pies at the store. I have money. How many do we need?”
Jeremy scratched his head. “Well, I have to say, one of the reasons people come is because they’re looking forward to a thing called homemade .”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can make thirty homemade pies by this evening.”
“Not unless you’re my grandmother.” Jeremy wore his trademark half smile. “Okay, how about this. . .I buy the pies. Some good ones, and you’ll owe me a dinner this week.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Lark said. “Drive-through burgers, right?”
“Wrong. No junk food. I don’t care where we go, but it’s got to be expensive.” Jeremy stuffed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head.
Lark noticed he had his usual stance when he was full of beans. “I’m being robbed here. Police!” She chuckled. “I’m truly sorry. I’m a mess about remembering things sometimes.”
“Yes, you are.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess we’ll need to get you some string to tie around one of your little fingers.”
“Well, they’ll probably want a rope for my neck when the parents find out those are fake homemade pies.”
“No ropes, but there’s still some tar and feathers in the church storeroom for me.”
“Oh, yeah? And what did you do?” Lark asked.
Jeremy shrugged. “I volunteered the teens to be servers at the Valentine’s banquet. Without their permission.”
“Ooww. You are in so much trouble,” Lark said. “And who decided to have the teen craft fair so close to the fall festival?”
“Yeah, I know. Bad move. Bet I don’t do that again next year.” Jeremy shifted his weight back and forth. “And so what magnificent mischief have you been up to, little lady?”
“Oh, not a lot. Just trying to coax a hermit crab out of his shell.”
“And have you succeeded?”
“Maybe,” Lark said.
Jeremy put a hand up. “Well, I’ve learned never to ask details. So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night for dinner. Six. Okay?”
“On the back of your bike?” She noticed his usual scent. Eau de motor oil.
Jeremy winked. “No, we can take your Hummer. Okay?”
Lark grinned and watched as Jeremy hopped on his motorbike, revved the engine, and rumbled off with no helmet. His habit of never wearing a helmet did seem kind of reckless, but it was hard to admonish Jeremy for irresponsibility when she had just forgotten all about the teen craft fair.
Pies. Hmm. She shut the door, vaguely recalling signing up. I wonder what happened. She glanced at the calendar on the side of her fridge. Yikes. She saw the bold words in the Tuesday slot. “Pies, craft fair, don’t forget,” was the note she’d scrawled to herself. Maybe I need to get my life in order.
Lark could hear the words How are you? coming from the kitchen CD player and then Comment ca va? What a good question. How am I anyway? She felt befuddled about her apparent unreliability and even more confused about her relationship with Jeremy.
The phone rang, and Lark startled. She glanced at the Caller ID as she picked up the phone. Calli was calling from her home in Springdale.
After a few pleasantries, Lark told her all about the day’s events.
“The teen craft fair. Remember? You’re the one in charge of signing people up for the pies. Since I have my bike, we can load your Hummer.”
Lark’s hand flew to her mouth. “Pies? Teen craft fair. I wish I could plead amnesia.”
Jeremy frowned. “You’re sweet, but you’re not going to be able to charm your way out of this one.”
“Oh, dear. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Lark asked. I can’t believe I forgot.
“We’ve got a snag if you don’t have thirty pies.”
Lark smiled, wishing she could disappear. “I don’t have any. . . I mean I didn’t—”
“You didn’t sign anybody up?” Jeremy’s mouth popped open like he’d jumped off a cliff without the cord.
“No. But I can buy a lot of pies at the store. I have money. How many do we need?”
Jeremy scratched his head. “Well, I have to say, one of the reasons people come is because they’re looking forward to a thing called homemade .”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can make thirty homemade pies by this evening.”
“Not unless you’re my grandmother.” Jeremy wore his trademark half smile. “Okay, how about this. . .I buy the pies. Some good ones, and you’ll owe me a dinner this week.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” Lark said. “Drive-through burgers, right?”
“Wrong. No junk food. I don’t care where we go, but it’s got to be expensive.” Jeremy stuffed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head.
Lark noticed he had his usual stance when he was full of beans. “I’m being robbed here. Police!” She chuckled. “I’m truly sorry. I’m a mess about remembering things sometimes.”
“Yes, you are.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess we’ll need to get you some string to tie around one of your little fingers.”
“Well, they’ll probably want a rope for my neck when the parents find out those are fake homemade pies.”
“No ropes, but there’s still some tar and feathers in the church storeroom for me.”
“Oh, yeah? And what did you do?” Lark asked.
Jeremy shrugged. “I volunteered the teens to be servers at the Valentine’s banquet. Without their permission.”
“Ooww. You are in so much trouble,” Lark said. “And who decided to have the teen craft fair so close to the fall festival?”
“Yeah, I know. Bad move. Bet I don’t do that again next year.” Jeremy shifted his weight back and forth. “And so what magnificent mischief have you been up to, little lady?”
“Oh, not a lot. Just trying to coax a hermit crab out of his shell.”
“And have you succeeded?”
“Maybe,” Lark said.
Jeremy put a hand up. “Well, I’ve learned never to ask details. So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night for dinner. Six. Okay?”
“On the back of your bike?” She noticed his usual scent. Eau de motor oil.
Jeremy winked. “No, we can take your Hummer. Okay?”
Lark grinned and watched as Jeremy hopped on his motorbike, revved the engine, and rumbled off with no helmet. His habit of never wearing a helmet did seem kind of reckless, but it was hard to admonish Jeremy for irresponsibility when she had just forgotten all about the teen craft fair.
Pies. Hmm. She shut the door, vaguely recalling signing up. I wonder what happened. She glanced at the calendar on the side of her fridge. Yikes. She saw the bold words in the Tuesday slot. “Pies, craft fair, don’t forget,” was the note she’d scrawled to herself. Maybe I need to get my life in order.
Lark could hear the words How are you? coming from the kitchen CD player and then Comment ca va? What a good question. How am I anyway? She felt befuddled about her apparent unreliability and even more confused about her relationship with Jeremy.
The phone rang, and Lark startled. She glanced at the Caller ID as she picked up the phone. Calli was calling from her home in Springdale.
After a few pleasantries, Lark told her all about the day’s events.
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