Stiffs and Swine (30 page)

Just before the library closed for the evening, an unusual thing happened. Jackson Henry called his son at work for the first time since James had become the head librarian.

“Can you stay outta the house for a bit longer tonight?” Jackson asked in as nice as tone as he could muster.

“Sure, Pop,” James replied, perplexed. He couldn’t keep himself from asking, “How come?”

“Just find something to do!” Jackson roared and hung up.

Wondering what had made his father so agitated, James called Bennett and asked if he’d like to be quizzed.

“Only if we can do it over some cold beers,” Bennett answered. “Jade is comin’ for dinner tomorrow and I’m having a mess of trouble concentratin’ on European History when all I wanna do is dream about her sittin’ across the table from me.”

“Don’t worry,” James assured him. “I’ll pick up a six-pack on my way over.”

James spent the following two hours asking Bennett a barrage of questions using a trivia website Bennett routinely turned to in preparation for the
Jeopardy!
tryouts, which would be taking place the next week. After finishing his second beer and the website’s segment on migrating birds, James decided to make his way home before he was tempted into opening another beer.

Driving through the quiet streets of Quincy’s Gap, James rolled the window down and stuck his arm into the cool, summer night air. There was the scent of change in the breezes that blew inside the Bronco and circulated around James’s face. He detected the expectant aroma of one season taking over while another faded into the past. The thought of autumn inspired James. When the Sunday paper arrived, he would begin looking for a small house to rent. Someplace close to work, but with a yard where he could plant a small garden and hang up some birdhouses. Perhaps he would plant an apple tree. Maybe he would adopt a pet.

James was so busy conjuring images of his future home that he almost walked right past the painting propped on the kitchen table. However, he stopped short as he realized that the two candle tapers burning were the only source of light in the room and that the dinner dishes were still piled in the sink.

The flickering light illuminated the small painting that James readily recognized as being one of his father’s creations. Like the other paintings Jackson had completed over the summer months, this one also featured hands as its subject. On the left side of the painting was a woman’s hand. It was petite and soft, and there was a slight dusting of flour over the first and second knuckles. James recognized the gold charm bracelet that Milla always wore dangling from the wrist. The hand reached out, as though to take something offered by the second hand.

The hand on the right side of the painting was turned palm upward. In the center of the palm, which was wrinkled and criss-crossed with a multitude of lines engraved in the flesh through the course of a long life, was a wedding band. At the bottom of the canvas where Jackson normally signed his name, were the words,
Will You?

Jackson had asked Milla to marry him using this painting.

James put his hand over his heart, overwhelmed at the tenderness expressed in the painting. As he sat down at the kitchen table, staring at his father’s finest work, he noticed that a piece of cake, a clean fork, a folded napkin, and a small note had been left on the table for him to find.

Dear James,

There’s barbecued brisket leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. I was inspired by your trip to Hog Fest and I do believe that I could hold my own in any BBQ contest with this recipe. You don’t even need a grill to make it! I think your father proposed just so I’d cook that brisket for him again! I saved a piece of our tiramisu dessert for you. Seems it turned into an engagement cake, for I said “yes” to your daddy, of course. My heart is filled with delight over being asked to join this family. See you in the morning, my dear.

Love,
Milla

Though James wasn’t hungry, he took several bites of the dessert in honor of his father’s engagement to the lovely Milla. He swallowed the sweet, creamy cake and gazed at the painting. Then, after blowing out the candles, he went back outside. Jackson and Milla deserved privacy on a night such as this, so James returned to the Bronco and retrieved his cell phone, wondering whom to call in hopes of borrowing a spare bed and perhaps a toothbrush.

He pressed one of his speed-dial numbers, expecting to hear Bennett’s voice pick up, but Lucy answered his call instead.

“Hello, James,” she said. She sounded surprised, but pleasantly so.

“I’m sorry to call so late,” he said. “But I need a favor.”

“Anything for you,” Lucy replied without waiting for him to explain the situation. “But you already know that, James.”

Milla’s Amazing Oven-Barbecued Brisket

1 (3- to 4-pound) beef brisket

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon onion salt

1 teaspoon celery salt

1⁄4 cup apple juice

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

1⁄2 teaspoon liquid smoke

Dry rub (Milla uses
Emeril’s Original Essence
spice or
Napa Valley Spicy American Barbecue Rub
, but use any kind you like)

1⁄2 cup store-bought barbecue sauce of your choice (Milla uses
KC Masterpiece—Original
)

Trim the fat from the brisket. Mix the garlic powder, onion salt, celery salt, apple juice, Worcestershire sauce, and liquid smoke in a small bowl. Using a flavor/marinade injector, inject the liquid mixture into the brisket (at an angle works best). You won’t use it all, so discard the rest. Sprinkle the rub generously on the meat and pat it into the surface. Brush on the barbecue sauce (Milla just spreads it around with her fingers) and wrap the meat in heavy-duty aluminum foil. Place it in a roasting pan and chill for 8 hours. Bake in a preheated 300-degree oven for 5 hours or until a meat thermometer reads 190 degrees. Let stand for 5 to 10 minutes and then cut the brisket on a slant (against the grain) into thin slices. Serve with a small bowl of warmed barbecue sauce on the side.

Acknowledgments

The author would like to thank Holly, Mary, and Anne for donating their time and wisdom in order to make the Flab Five better; Karl Anderson, Barbara Moore, and the Midnight Ink team; Jessica Faust at BookEnds; Mark and Travis of the Short Pump Midas for explaining large engine mechanics; the fine folks at the Short Pump Panera (my café office); Kathy Watson of the Victoria Public Library, Virginia, for sharing interesting stories about things she’s witnessed in her career as librarian; my Cozy Chicks friends (Diana Killian, Karen MacInerney, Michele Scott, Maggie Sefton, Heather Webber, and Kate Collins); Lelia Taylor of Creatures ’n Crooks Bookshoppe for hand-selling the supper club books; my family for living with someone who’s mind is elsewhere half the time; and you, dear reader, for befriending the Flab Five and spending a few hours with them. I’m in your debt.

About the Author

J. B. Stanley has a BA in English from Franklin & Marshall College, an MA in English Literature from West Chester University, and an MLIS from North Carolina Central University. She taught sixth grade language arts in Cary, North Carolina, for the majority of her eight-year teaching career. Raised an antique-lover by her grandparents and parents, Stanley also worked part-time in an auction gallery. An eBay junkie and food-lover, Stanley now lives in Richmond, Virginia, with her husband, two young children, and three cats. Visit her website at www.jbstanley.com.