Finding Floyd (10 page)

1 cup dark brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup cream

1 teaspoon pure vanilla

2 cups sifted 10X sugar

Melt butter in heavy saucepan.

Stir in the sugar and salt.

Boil, lower heat and stir constantly until
smooth

Add cream and bring to a boil while
stirring.

Cool until lukewarm. Add vanilla.

Add 10X sugar and beat.

Drizzle over cake, spreading to coat.

Jack smiled as his wife stepped from The
Country Store, carefully licking around the side of a double-dipped
chocolate cone.

"Hey, Jack," she called from the stone step.
"This is the place I read about on the 'Visit Floyd Virginia' web
site. They have live music here every Saturday and Sunday afternoon
and on Friday nights there's three hours of music and dancing.

"Leave it to you to research everything ahead
of time." Jack put his arm around her waist and they strolled along
the street looking into shop windows. They'd made a quick trip to
the grocery store for the things on Diane's list and decided to
make a stop in town.

"Nice and quiet," he said. "It's a little
like the Grove." Residents of the Hudson Valley town of Pippin's
Grove generally referred to their home as "The Grove."

He stopped before a small clapboard building
proclaiming it's self: The Republic of Floyd. "This looks
interesting. They're still open. Want to check it out?" he
asked.

"Definitely. Kyle told me they have a nice
selection of wine. We should get a few bottles of red to go with
the lasagna."

"Where exactly is that lasagna?"

"Don't worry. I texted Diane and told her to
put it in the oven. We brought plenty of Italian bread from home
and I'll make a big salad. You think that's enough?"

"Absolutely," he said opening the door for
her. As they entered the Republic of Floyd, a pretty woman behind
the counter smiled and waved. "Let me know if I can help you."

"Thank you," said Vicky, returning her
smile.

Passing up and down the narrow aisles, they
glanced at T-shirts and coffee mugs, stopping in front of shelves
filled with wine.

"Hey, they've got a really nice selection
here," said Vicky examining a bottle. "Maybe we should get some
white too."

"Good idea." Jack wandered over to look at
the variety of unusual beers. "When we come back to Floyd with John
and Terry, I've got to bring him in here to check out the
beer."

"I want to come back and look in every one of
those little shops when we've got more time, but it's getting late.
We've got to get back," said Vicky.

"Yeah, right," said Jack. "We better get
going." He brought her selections over to the counter and put a
six-pack of beer down next to the wine.

"Did you find everything you were looking
for?" the woman asked.

"Yes. You've got some great wines here,"
Vicky complimented the proprietor as she began ringing up the
items.

"Thanks. We try to carry an interesting
selection of wine and beer along with some that our customers
request. That imported Marsala for example," she said gesturing
toward the shelf behind them.

Vicky juggled her ice cream cone while trying
to reach into her purse. Jack stopped her and handed the woman his
credit card.

"Thanks, Jack. I guess I'm still getting used
to being married."

"Newlyweds?" asked the woman.

"We got married last October," said Jack,
smiling." About five months now."

"Great, congratulations! Is this your first
time visiting Floyd?"

"Yes. It's such a nice place," said Vicky.
"We're from a small town ourselves, in upstate New York.

"Come into town for the music on Friday night
if you're here. There's really nothing like it anywhere."

"We plan to do that, thanks," said Jack.

"You have a real nice day," said the woman as
he gathered up their bags.

"You do the same," he replied following Vicky
out the door.

Jack looked up and down the street. "Where to
now? Back to the B & B?" His wife didn't answer, but he felt
her firm grip on his arm.

"Oh my god, Jack," she hissed, staring across
the street, an expression of shocked disbelief on her face.

"What's the matter?" Her fingers dug deeper
into his forearm. "What's wrong?" Following her gaze, he froze.

"It's that bitchy FBI Agent that arrested
Diane last year, "whispered Vicky. Agent Rodriguez was dressed all
in black leather from her cropped biking jacket to high-heeled
boots. She stared back at them with focused intensity.

Jack hadn't seen that face for several
months, but he'd never forget it. He drew Vicky closer in a
protective gesture.

"Does she recognize us?" Vicky asked him.

"She sure does, but what the hell is that
woman doing here? In Floyd? I thought all that business with the
stolen money and the Jersey mob was resolved. Is the FBI still
following us after all this time, or what?"

"Oh my god. I just remembered," said Vicky.
She looked down at the remains of her melting ice cream, and tossed
it in the trashcan. Dabbing at her hand with a napkin, she said,
"Let's go. Diane is home alone." She grabbed his arm and took off
for their car.

"What's wrong?" Jack was puzzled.

"That other agent, Chris Owen, is here too.
Diane told me she saw him yesterday."

"That's no coincidence," he muttered, opening
the trunk and depositing their purchases. "Those FBI idiots are
following us again. You're right. We need to talk to Diane."

"This really creeps me out. Look at that big
guy she's talking to now. Who's he?"

Rodriguez was now in conversation with a
large man dressed, like her, entirely in black biking leathers. He
wore mirrored sunglasses and his unsmiling mouth was framed by huge
handlebar mustaches. A motorcycle helmet was held under his arm as
he leaned over to speak to the shorter woman. As they watched, the
two turned to stare at them.

"Let's get out of here. I want to talk to
Diane," muttered Jack, slamming the trunk closed.

Chris sighed heavily as the hammering on the
back door began again. Great. Another interruption. And I was
almost there! Every time I get close to that girl, something
happens. He swung open the door and stared glumly down at the Evans
kid who stood grinning at him on the porch.

"What can I do for you Kyle?"

"Hey, Chris. I didn't know you were in
town."

"Well, I am." He stepped gingerly around a
large puddle on the kitchen floor in front of the sink, and reached
into the closet for a mop.

"Man! What happened here?" asked Kyle.

"There's some water on the floor." Chris said
dryly as he dabbed at the muddy water with the sponge mop.

"Oh yeah, I see." He watched Chris mop at the
water and ring the mop out over the sink.

Chris lifted one eyebrow. "Did you want
something, Kyle?"

"Is Diane here?" he asked eagerly.

"She's getting changed, I think. Why?"

"Good, good." Kyle grinned at him. "Man! Have
you checked her out? That is one bea-u-tiful woman. She's smokin'
hot."

Chris's stare became glacial. "Did you need
to talk to her?"

He jabbed Chris in the chest with a
forefinger. "Hey, man. I asked her out this morning and since she
couldn't make it today, I thought maybe she'd like to make some
plans for the weekend. After a nice meal in town, we could head
over to my place and...you know."

Chris leaned the mop against the counter and
crossed muscular arms on his chest. His blue eyes turned to ice as
he stared at the younger man. "Really?" His voice was eerily
calm.

Kyle paled. He mumbled, "Um. Fact is...I'm
looking for Granny. We seem to have lost her."

"Granny?"

"Yeah. You know, Granny Shackleford. Beau's
Grandma. Somebody carried her over here earlier for the
breakfast."

One eyebrow lifted again. "The
breakfast?"

"You know. The breakfast we always have here
on Saturday." Kyle shrugged. "We kind of figured, since Sandy
couldn't be here, that we'd all help out."

"All the musicians came for breakfast here?
This morning?" How could Diane have handled all that with no
warning? "Did she cook for you guys?"

"Well, there wasn't a whole lot to eat. All
the guys who stopped to help with the downed tree were hungry and
what with the racket they made with them chain-saws, the music
didn't get started until late." Kyle gave him a tentative glance
and relaxed as Chris smiled.

"Anyway, everyone thought somebody carried
Granny back to town, but nobody remembers taking her. Carol Anne is
real embarrassed for just plumb forgetting about her, but they were
all so busy."

Chris looked at the young man thoughtfully,
wondering if Diane could really be interested in him. Seriously? He
was so young, just a kid, but then Diane wasn't much older.

Outside in the woods the spring peepers began
chirping, announcing the sunset on an early spring evening. That's
when he heard it. The undercurrent of sound in the distance and
then what sounded like a bark of laughter.

"I think Granny might could be in the front
room watching television," said Kyle.

"Yeah, hold on a minute." Chris pushed
through the door to the dining room where the noise was more
distinct. Kyle followed him through the big dining room to the
front parlor. Opening the door wide, they found Granny Shackleford
comfortably seated in one of the chintz easy chairs that faced the
large screen television. Two empty beer bottles were at her feet
and she clutched a bag of Cheese Doodles in her lap. Beside her
Colby Jack was perched on the left arm of the chair, staring at the
screen, front paws tucked under his chin like a little sphinx.

The Wheel of Fortune studio audience was
applauding and cheering as the old woman suggested, "Ask if there's
a damn T!"

Apparently the contestant took her advice.
Pat Sajak said, "Yup, there are two Ts." Vanna White revealed the
letters as the contestant spun the wheel again.

"I knew it!" announced Granny triumphantly,
slamming her fist down on the cushions. A couple of Doodles popped
out of the bag and rained down around her, joining the others at
her feet. Colby sniffed delicately at one that landed in front of
him, but remained unperturbed as the old woman joined in the
cheering.

"Hey Granny, hows about some supper?" asked
Kyle. "Carol Anne is making some of her fried chicken. You ready to
go?"

She turned to Kyle, noticing them for the
first time. Her wrinkled face scrunched into a frown at the
intrusion.

"I'm not hungry." She turned back to the
television. "I wanna watch Wheel of Fortune."

"Come on now Granny. You need to come along
and have some supper," urged Kyle. "Everybody's waiting on
you".

The old woman sighed, "Oh all right. She
retrieved her cane from the floor and with a great "Umph,"
struggled to her feet. "I had this damn TV all to myself and you
all have to come and interrupt." Eyeing Chris, she sighed. "I'm
moving' a bit slow today. It's the arthritis. You know, it comes
and goes, but mostly it comes. My daddy had the arthritis and
that's what he always said."

"Yeah I know, Granny. I've heard you say,"
said Kyle gently taking her arm. They made their way toward the
kitchen.

Chris found the remote control and turned off
Wheel of Fortune. The cat got indignantly to his feet and gave him
a dirty, "I was watching that!" look, before he presented his
backside and strolled out.

Looking at the shower of orange squiggles
that covered the rug, Chris shook his head and said, "Thank god
Bella likes Cheese Doodles." He looked around, wondering where the
dog was.

When she reached the kitchen, Granny frowned
and aimed her cane at the puddle. "What happened here?"

"Little problem with the plumbing is all.
Chris here is going to fix it directly. Come on now Granny. We got
to get a move on." Kyle guided her toward the porch door.

"Sandy never had no problem with the
plumbing, no water mess on the floor when she was here." She took
another step and paused, announcing, "And breakfast was a far sight
better too!"

Diane had emerged from her bedroom neatly
dressed in a low cut, pale pink blouse and short skirt, smoothing
her hair back; she started when she saw Kyle and the old woman
enter the kitchen. "Oh! Hello there."

"Who the dickens are you?" Granny demanded,
thumping her cane sharply on the floor. She turned to Kyle.
"Where's that nice sweet girl, Sandy?"

"Sandy is on a little vacation, but she'll be
back soon. This is Diane, Sandy's friend. Let's get rolling Granny.
They've got supper waiting on you, remember?"

Granny angrily turned her attention back to
Diane. "A body can't even watch Wheel of Fortune without someone
telling me where and when I got to go." A wispy strand of thin
white hair broke loose and fluttered across her brow. One hand
swiped at it as though it were a cloud of troublesome gnats. The
cane came up and was aimed at Diane. "Sandy is a sweet young lady,
nice girl! And she can cook too! Bless her heart." She blinked and
stared critically at Diane. "What's your name again, Missy?"

"It's Diane," she said, smiling at the old
woman.

"That's a right nice dress you're wearing
there."

"Why, thank you," said Diane.

Granny sniffed. "Nice dress, but where's the
rest of it?"

Diane's eyebrows rose and her mouth dropped
open in surprise.

Kyle smiled sheepishly, led her outside, and
closed the door. Granny's muttered protests could be heard receding
as she shuffled down the length of the porch.

Diane slipped into a chair and rested her
head on her hands rubbing her forehead. "Was that old woman here
the whole time? Was she right there in the next room while you were
taking my shirt off...? Oh my god."