Small-Town Homecoming

“What?” Jenna came running. “Let me see.”

Sam held up both hands. Curt bent closer to look at the same time Jenna did and they almost bumped heads. Curt backed off a bit, but her flowery-smelling hair hung down in front of him, surrounding him in a soft shampoo cloud.

Sure enough, Sam had glued his two forefingers together. “Er...yep, you sure did,” Curt remarked.

“Oh, no, Sam.” Jenna put her hands on her hips. “This stuff is permanent.”

Sam’s eyes went huge.

Curt squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. I can unstick them.”

“You can?” Jenna asked.

“Sure. Do you have any nail polish remover?” Curt asked Jenna.

“Yes, I do. I’ll go get it. Sam, stay put,” she said with a pointed finger. She turned and left the room.

“Are you sure you can unstick me?” Sam asked, looking worried that he was going to walk around with his fingers stuck together. “I’m a tree in the play tonight, and I have to be able to wave my arms.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it right up.”

Jenna returned, a small bottle in her hand. “Here we go.” She handed it to Curt and then went over and got a paper towel. “You sure this will work?”

“I’m sure. I stuck my fingers together all the time when I was a kid, and so did my brothers. We figured out soon enough how to take care of it.” He unscrewed the lid of the remover. “A bit of this and you’ll be good as new.”

It took a few minutes of gentle work, but soon enough Sam’s fingers separated. “See?” Curt said. “Unstuck.”

“Thanks, Mr. Graham,” Sam said, examining his fingers. “That stuff is strong.”

“Yeah, it is. My brother Seth and I once glued the toilet seat down with this stuff. My dad had a fit over it, too.” Dad had stomped around for days after that prank, and had picked a fight with Mom over the whole thing. Somehow that had turned into a battle of epic proportions, with Dad sleeping on the couch for weeks and Mom sobbing behind closed doors.

That was the way things usually went in the Graham household during Curt’s childhood. Fight. Make up. Fight again. Until Curt spent some time in his friends’ houses, he’d thought all parents were in a constant war. Turned out it was just his.

That had been a significant turning point in his life. Unfortunately, he’d turned the wrong way.

And now, not surprisingly, his parents were divorced. Mom had done well. Dad? Curt wasn’t exactly sure.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Jenna said to Sam. “This glue is for car models only.”

“Right,” Curt said, trying to sound stern, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently given Sam any ideas. “Models only.”

“Yoo-hoo, I’m back,” a female voice called.

Curt turned and saw a little gray-haired woman toddling into the kitchen, a huge pink purse slung over her shoulder. She wore a powder blue pantsuit with thick-soled snow-white tennis shoes and sported bright red lipstick on her thin lips.

Curt rose.

“Miss Landry, you’re back,” Jenna said. “Join us.” She pulled out a chair.

As she moved toward the chair, Miss Landry’s gaze landed on Curt. “Well, who is this?” She slowly sat in the chair, holding her purse across her body as if it held the crown jewels.

Jenna made the introductions. “Miss Eileen Landry, this is Mr. Curt Graham, our new guest.” Jenna regarded Curt. “Miss Landry has been staying with us while she is in town visiting her ill sister.”

Curt held out his hand. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”

Miss Landry took his hand in her tiny one. “Yes, it is.” With shrewd blue eyes she looked him over from her perch on the chair. “My, aren’t you a handsome fellow.”

Her directness took him by surprise. “Um...thank you.”

She turned sharp eyes to Jenna. “I assume you noticed, my dear.”

Jenna stilled. “Er, well, of course.” She smiled brightly as she went to the stove, seemingly studiously avoiding Curt’s gaze. “Can I get you some of that chamomile tea you like so much?”

“That would be wonderful,” Miss Landry said. “Then I’m going to go take a little nap before dinner. I wore myself out shopping on Main Street. Of course, the exercise does me good, but I’m old, and I am a bit weary.”

“Do you have anything that needs to be brought in?” Curt asked at the mention of shopping. “My mom never returned from shopping without at least one bag.”

“Why, yes, I do, actually.” She slid a set of keys attached to a stretchy thing off her slender, age-spotted wrist and held them out to Curt. “The bags are in the trunk.”

Curt took the keys, then crooked a thumb over his shoulder, looking at Sam. “You want to help me, bud?”

“Yes!” Sam said, springing to his feet. “Can I push the button that opens the trunk?”

“You bet,” Curt said.

Miss Landry patted her purse, regarding Sam. “I have some candy in here. You can have a piece when you get back.”

“Okay,” Sam said, tugging on Curt’s elbow. “Let’s go!”

He and Sam went out to Miss Landry’s car, a huge baby blue boat of a luxury car, circa 1995. He noted that light blue seemed to be a theme with her.

Sam gleefully pushed the button on the fob and the trunk popped open. He and Curt grabbed the bags in the trunk and carried them back into the house, setting them at the base of the oak staircase near the front door.

Curt followed a skipping Sam back into the kitchen.

“Excellent work, young man,” Miss Landry said to Sam. “Here’s your reward.” She handed Sam two snack-size candy bars.

Sam took the candy.

“What do you say, Sam?” Jenna asked.

“Thank you,” Sam said dutifully.

“Would you like some, Mr. Graham?” Miss Landry asked.

“I never turn down chocolate.”

Miss Landry dug two more pieces of candy out of her cavernous purse and handed them to Curt. “So, Jenna told me you grew up here in Moonlight Cove.”