AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
There's an author's note at the end of the chapter. I'd appreciate it if you'd read.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"That's right," Carol said. "A ticket per visit with the raffle being held in a month."
"An' that's man or woman?" The old man asked. "It don't matter which?"
"Man or woman," Carol said. "Any treatment. It's a ticket a visit."
"But the prizes is set?" He asked.
"Prizes are set," Carol said. "Grand prize is the little trailer. Then we'll have the voucher for the homemade meal with a cake included. Third place is a year of free standard haircuts."
"I'm not gonna want that meal," the man said.
Carol laughed to herself.
"I've had Josephine Greene's food before," Carol offered. "Believe me, that meal's a good prize. Are you married?" The man nodded his head, but he didn't respond with words. "Then your wife would probably appreciate the meal. And a night off from cooking could mean a nice date—just the two of you." She winked her eye at him and the man smiled to himself. "Can I set you up with an appointment?"
He looked around the table. Andrea and Jacqui were working, as well, to get people signed up for appointments. The people who claimed a time slot in their books wouldn't earn their tickets until they were actually "AIS" as Merle had put it—ass in seat.
"Do it matter which one of ya does it?" He asked. "The haircut, I mean?"
"We're all available," Carol said. Her stomach sunk a little at the thought that, for whatever reason, she might not be just as agreeable to the man as either Jacqui or Andrea. "It's just—whoever you'd like more."
"Tickets is the same for everyone, though?" He asked. "You don't draw—outta one pot for one prize?"
Carol laughed to herself, suddenly realizing the man's concern. He wanted the little trailer that Hershel had donated to the cause, and he was trying to figure out how to stack the odds in his favor the best. Carol shook her head.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said. "All the tickets are going into the same pot. The only way to increase your odds is to get more tickets."
He laughed.
"But a man don't have but so much hair," he pointed out.
"Get your wife to come in," Carol said. "Friends. Anyone who doesn't want their ticket can put your name on it."
"Fine," he said. "Sign me up. That's—that's Ernest Harvin. You got that? Harvin is like Marvin, but it's got an H."
"When do you want to come in?" Carol asked.
The man ran his hand through his hair.
"I could really use one now," he admitted. "When you got?"
"Tomorrow?" Carol asked. "I've got most of the day."
"I like to have a coffee of a mornin'," he said. "Don't like that be too rushed. And breakfast. Gotta get all the way downtown. Find a park if there's one close to the place—you said it was in the old record store?" Carol nodded at him and listened as he continued to talk himself through his day. Finally he arrived at a decision and he told her the time that suited him best. She wrote it down in her appointment book, practically bubbling over at the sight of his name written there. She jotted his appointment down on a card and handed it to him. She thanked him warmly with a smile and a handshake before she turned her attention to a woman who was just coming up to the table to read the sign that they'd put out.
Carol had a feeling that they'd be there all day before they got an impressive number of appointments, but she was feeling more hopeful than she'd felt in a while, so she really didn't mind the whole act of continuously repeating the same spill over and over again.
She had a feeling that this was going to lead to good things for them. All of them.
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Daryl offered Carol a caramel covered apple that had been doused in peanuts and she smiled at him like he'd just offered her something as valuable as a diamond.
"Where are these?" She asked.
"Some woman over there is sellin' 'em," Daryl said. "Had candy ones, too, but I know the last time you had one with the red candy on it, you complained about feelin' like your teeth was gonna get pulled out."
Carol laughed to herself.
"I'm sure the caramel is going to make that feeling so much less intense," she teased, biting into the apple. She hummed her approval of the flavor as soon as her teeth had sunk into it. The caramel must have been pretty soft because, as soon as she bit into it, Carol pulled away from it and stretched out a long string of caramel.
Daryl smiled and shifted Eliza a little.
"Want me to take her?" Carol asked, her mouth full.
"I got her," Daryl said. "We havin' fun. Done been to see Hershel an' Miss Jo. Guessed how many jelly beans was in the jar over there for a dollar—an' if I win we gonna get a whole set of tires for your car. Showed 'Liza Jo how good I was at bean bag toss over there." He laughed to himself. "And she's been damn near passed out the whole time to tell the truth. She didn't even wake up for Hershel an' the pettin' farm thing."
Carol cooed over her daughter. She was sleeping in the harness that they'd bought to wear her around. She didn't seem to mind the contraption at all, but Daryl knew that she'd have different ideas once she got her nap out. For one thing, Daryl wouldn't be able to feed her, and she was most assuredly going to want to eat when she woke up.
"She's done good," Daryl offered.
"I miss her," Carol said.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"If you strained your eyes a lil' bit, you probably coulda seen us both the whole time," he said.
"I know," Carol said. "It's not the same. I almost hate missing all the festivities."
"What festivities?" Daryl asked with a laugh. "It's just about everybody in town tryin' to get'cha to donate to their business with a lil' side bit to Langley feed. There's nothin' here that's too interestin' to see."
Carol shrugged. She gave him a crooked smile.
"Maybe I just miss having the chance to walk around and see—well, whatever there is to see—with you and Eliza Jo."
Daryl smiled.
"If it means that much to you," Daryl said, "we'll stay on a while after you close up shop here. We'll stroll around then."
"You'd do that?" Carol asked. "Even though you've already visited every booth?"
"Bigger'n shit," Daryl said. "With you on my arm, I'd go around again even though I visited all the booths three times."
He winked at her and Carol's cheeks blushed a little pink. She puckered at him quickly and he leaned just enough over her table for her to meet him for a kiss.
"Hell—if that's what'cha sellin' at this table," Merle said, coming up from somewhere behind Daryl. His unexpected words shocked both of them to the point that they broke the kiss and he laughed. "I think—I'ma want mine from that sweet piece a' ass you got over there, though," he said, gesturing toward Andrea.
Daryl rolled his eyes at his brother, but Merle never saw it. He was already making his way around the table to teasingly purchase a haircut and a kiss from the woman that he called his wife.
Daryl looked back to his own wife.
"How you doin', though?" Daryl asked.
Carol sucked in a breath and let it out as she looked over her appointment book. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Not bad," she said. "All things considered. "If everybody comes, I've just about got a full week this week—and a couple of days next week."
"What about after that?" Daryl asked, furrowing his brow.
"Well the hope is that, if I can get enough people in there and give them what they want, then they'll start telling people about me," Carol said. "And they'll start coming back every month or—six weeks—or whatever. That's how we have to do it. We build up a clientele. Little by little."
"And then you got you somethin' steady," Daryl supplied.
"That's the idea," Carol confirmed. "Right now, I'm happy with a week. It's more business than we've seen since we opened the place and these bills aren't going to pay themselves, Daryl. With Andrea and me sacrificing a lot of hours elsewhere...I'm starting to worry."
"That's the last thing I want you doin'," Daryl said quickly. "The bills'll get paid. All of 'em. Hershel's good to loan us what we need while we're gettin' set up. I talked to him. He remembers what the hell it was like when he was even gettin' his farm runnin'. He knows how them dry spells are."
"But what if this isn't a dry spell, Daryl?" Carol asked. "At some point we're going to have to face the possibility that we might've just made a really bad decision and maybe we're not going to be able to do this..."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"You know—I'm glad you weren't as quick to give up on me," he said. "Don't'cha worry. You got you a week an' a half of clients. Most of them gonna head home an' tell somebody that they goin' to that fancy new place up town. Then they gonna tell somebody else. It won't be long before you're gonna need you a second one of them books because that one's gonna be so full that you gonna be—I don't know—takin' their appointments like six months in advance. They'll be lined up around the block just tryin' to get in there."
Carol gave him a truly warm smile and Daryl's heart picked up a beat. She was stressed and he knew it. All of them had reason to be stressed. They'd put a lot of money and time into this business and every day they went a little deeper into the hole. If it didn't work out, they'd simply be out all of that. Daryl knew, though, that negativity wasn't going to get them anywhere. What they needed right now was a reliable clientele and some positivity. If they believed in themselves, they'd be confident. If they were confident, then they'd make this work.
Daryl was certain of it. He believed in Jacqui and Andrea but, most of all, he believed in Carol.
"Thank you," Carol said softly. "I needed to hear that."
Daryl winked at her.
"Just one of the many services I offer," Daryl said. "Eat your apple. You want anything else? They got some decent smellin' kettle corn over there and Miss Jo's sellin' cider, hot chocolate, and sweet iced tea."
Carol renewed her smile.
"I'd love about two gallons of iced tea right now," she said.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"How about I start you off with a big cup," he said, "and we'll go from there?"
"You've got a deal," Carol said. "And when you get back with it, I'll take Eliza Jo."
"It's gonna be time for her to eat soon as it is," Daryl confirmed. "And you an' me both know that, when it comes to that, I'm no good to her—and she ain't afraid to let it be known."
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AN: Hi there! So it's been a while, and I'd like the chance to explain. Real life has been busy, but there's been more to this than that.
I had some ideas about how I wanted this story to go. I knew the kinds of things that I wanted to happen. There was someone, at the time, who knew about my ideas and didn't really like them. Essentially, this person discouraged me to write the story the way that I wanted to write it. I didn't feel like I could write it any other way, though, so I simply got stuck and then finally left the story. That influence is no longer an issue.
Life is still busy, though, so I'll update when I can. I was hoping, if anyone was interested and had read Sweet Junction in the recent past, that you might private message me to talk over a few ideas about the story. I'd like to get this one going again, but I need to get the proverbial juices flowing again. I'd also like to hear your ideas and suggestions for this story, but please don't be offended if I don't use some/all of them.
At any rate, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I apologize for my long absence.
Let me know what you think!