Still Life in Brunswick Stew
subject danced in my mind before I caught myself.
    Damn this weakness for beautiful men, I thought. Eloise knew me too well. I shuffled back a step and shoved my hands in the pockets of my shorts.
    “No problem,” he smiled, offering two long dimples on each cheek. “I put it on my honey-do list.”
    I edged back another step. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to call a favor for a friend a honey-do list.”
    “I’m just joshing you.” He winked again and ambled closer, closing the distance between us. “We’re not married anymore. You sent me the papers.”
    “You shouldn’t joke about it. Signing the annulment papers took longer than our Vegas wedding. That’s sad, not funny.”
    “I wish I knew what happened to that ring. It sure was pretty. I looked for it in Caesar’s Palace. The security guards sure got ticked. You know, even if you take your shoes off, they don’t like people wading in that fountain.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. I’ll help you load the stuff in the Civic.”
    We worked together unscrewing the pipes and yanking them apart. Todd had nestled Eloise’s Raku pots in scraps of fabric and Styrofoam sheets within large boxes.
    I hoisted the last box in the hatchback of Todd’s Civic, keeping far from his pheromone-laden sweat. Since Todd had already packed most everything else away in boxes, I poked my head out the back of his car to make a comment on his diligence but didn’t see him anywhere. The aroma of barbecue and Brunswick Stew floated past the truck in a sudden gust of wind, and a sound like a chainsaw cutting through a block of cement startled me. I clamped a hand over my stomach and felt the sharp knock of hunger. My middle reverberated with another deafening growl.
    “Cherry.” Todd popped around the side of the booth next door, startling me. “I could hear you three doors down. You’re hungry. Let’s get something to eat. That pulled pork smells incredible.”
    “I’m not hungry.” The chainsaw in my stomach revved again.
    Todd’s eyebrows drew together. “If that’s not your stomach, what is that sound?”
    “I can’t eat festival food, Todd. A bunch of people took sick. Eloise died.”
    “She died?”
    I nodded, biting my lip.
    Without hesitation, Todd stepped forward, wrapped an arm around me, and pulled me against his slick skin. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t know. When you said they were taking her to the hospital, I thought she got heat stroke. Figured you two were sitting in the sun. It was hotter than two cats fighting in a wool sock today.”
    “We were under the tent.” I pressed my hands against his stomach to shove myself away, but the bumpy ridges of his abs felt so pleasant under my fingers, I let them rest. My head dropped against his chest, and Todd stroked my hair.
    “You’ve been through a lot today. How did she die?”
    “It looked like she was having a fit. I guess it had something to do with her disease. Her daddy wants an autopsy.” I sucked the inside of my cheek to prevent tears from welling in my eyes again.
    “That’s strange.” Todd kissed the top of my head and nestled me tighter. “Poor Eloise. I didn’t think she had anything life threatening.”
    “I know. Food poisoning doesn’t usually kill people. It doesn’t sit right with me or with her family. They don’t trust the authorities. They want me to look into it.”
    “Of course they want you to look into it. You like to stand up for people like the Parkers. You got a talent for telling the big folks how the cow eats the cabbage.”
    A trickle of sweat dripped off his chest and smeared my face. I rubbed the wetness from my cheeks and pulled my head away. Looking up, I saw Todd’s eyes darken. A familiar feeling washed over me. A feeling I once had in Vegas. Just before Todd snookered me into marrying him for a couple of hours.
    Hindsight has taught me it’s wiser, as well as cheaper, to avoid those particular feelings.
    I hopped back, but

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