Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [13]
“Somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Fleeta pulls her smock over her head, neglecting to tie the side ribbons, as usual.
“Pearl’s reopening the soda fountain.”
“I ain’t workin’ no damn food-service job. Do you know what it is to wait on hungry people? They’s beasts.”
Pearl takes Fleeta’s opinions seriously because Fleeta works the most hours. Ever since her husband, Portly, died from the black lung two years ago, she’s been able to work more. Fleeta’s kids are grown too: her son Kyle moved to North Carolina because he couldn’t find a job here; her son Pavis moved to Florida because he passed bad checks in North Carolina, where he was working with Kyle. Fleeta’s daughter, Dorinda, had a baby, but Fleeta told her that she wasn’t raising another “damn kid.” “You had the fun, now you have the baby, she’s yorn, you take care of her and visit me on Mother’s Day,” Fleeta told her; so went the story around town. She didn’t mean it, though. She takes care of little Jeanine every chance she gets. Dorinda gave her a necklace that says WORLD’S BEST GRANDMA on a little gold plate in cursive letters. Fleeta never takes it off.
“Fleeta. I think it’s a great idea.” I look at Pearl.
“You would,” Fleeta growls. “How much more change we gonna have ’round here? Purty soon we’re gonna be the Fort Henry Mall. If I wanted to work at a mall, I’d git me a job at the mall.”
“With the mines closing, we need to look at ways to expand. If the fountain takes off, Pearl will be able to hire people. More jobs. Here. In town.”
Otto and Worley emerge from behind the building, carrying their tools and balancing a long pipe on their shoulders (proof that Pearl’s decision was made long before she asked me). Otto walks with a limp; he swears his bones got short in the one leg due to old age. He has a bright smile, thin white hair, and clear blue eyes. Their new truck has a sign on the door that says OTTO OLINGER & SON, lest anyone forget that they are father and son, not brothers, as all of the Gap believed for so many years. I notice that Worley looks good, well dressed with a certain stature. His red hair has lots of white in it. And he’s had some work done on his front teeth.
“What’d Miss Ave say about reopening the soda fountain?” Otto wants to know.
“I love the idea.”
“Do either of y’all two give a rat’s ass about what I think?” Fleeta pats her smock, trying to locate her cigarettes.
“Not really.” Otto smiles at Worley.
“You can kiss it, Otto,” Fleeta barks.
“Okay, guys. That’s enough,” Pearl says with a smile.
“I remember old Fred Mulligan’s soda fountain,” Otto says wistfully. “There was a mirror on the back wall and them green leather stools that used to spin. And the cherry floats! Lord, they was good, them cherry floats.”
“I ’member it too. But if I want a cherry float, I go to Bessie’s in Appalachia. Let’s get on it, Daddy-O,” Worley tells him. (Back when Otto confessed to Worley that he was his father, Worley stopped calling him plain Otto and invented Daddy Otto.)
I take my place behind my counter and tack up the prescription orders for the day. Pearl has left her peanut-butter ball recipe on my desk. Etta pleads for them so much, I figure they’re good leverage when I want her to do something.
COUSIN DEE’S PEANUT-BUTTER BALLS
Blend: one box of confectioners’ sugar
18-oz. jar of crunchy peanut butter
2 cups of graham-cracker crumbs
2 sticks of melted butter
Roll into bite-size balls.
Melt: 12-oz. package of semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 box of paraffin wax
Dip balls into melted chocolate and wax and place on wax paper.
“Is this it?” I wave the recipe at Pearl.
“It’s easy.”
Fleeta grabs the recipe and reads it. “I don’t use the graham-cracker crumbs in mine, makes ’em mealy. I use crushed pea-nits. Gives ’em weight plus crunch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Try the crackers, then be the judge.” Fleeta shrugs. “ ’Course, nobody round here cares what I think.”
“Pearl, can I talk to ye?” Worley asks.
“Sure.”
Worley’s tone is serious, so Fleeta and I look at each other. I tug