I woke up before Amelia and took the liberty of having a shower before putting back on my clothes from the night before. She was barely awake when I told her I was heading to Eric's to pick up some things and would return in an hour with breakfast. I found him still getting ready when I arrived.
"Hey," he says warmly. "Is your friend okay?"
"Women troubles," I reply. I gave him a quick kiss and a squeeze before hopping up on the bed to watch him dress.
"Ah," he answers.
"Her new girlfriend decided she didn't want to be friends anymore, and this came as very unexpected news."
"Dumped?" he asks. That was a little harsh.
I pointed towards the blue shirt he held up for me to choose from, instead of the black. "I don't think it was just that. She is like you, she does not do these things," I say.
"I am doing this thing now," he asserts. Yes, good boy. Perfectly reformed.
"Yes," I smirk. "And you are doing this thing very well, as you do most everything else, but," I say, switching us back to Amelia, "She was ready to try, and that it didn't work out has hit her very hard. So she is getting a friend day."
"You were going to go home today, weren't you?"
"I think I should stay for her."
"Hm."
"I may give up and drag her back with me, depending on how she is doing by the afternoon. I am still eagerly awaiting word from Madge Batiment about the house so I can't quite decide if I want to go or wait."
"Margaret Batiment is who you're trying to rent from?"
"No, Madge. Madge Batiment," I say, stressing the name.
"Right, it's a nickname for Margaret, Madge."
"You know her?" I rattled off the address and he nods.
"You know her too."
"I do?"
"Well, I don't know if you were introduced. They were at the funeral. They have the daughter you saved me from hearing more about."
"That was her? I barely remember what she looked like. I met so many people that day..." I trail off, trying to no avail to recall the woman. She was with her husband too. I couldn't summon a clear picture of either one of them. "Do you think she recognized me?" I ask, suddenly panicked. "Oh my God Eric, she's not going to let me have that house now because you wouldn't date her daughter!"
He cocks his head, staring at me. "Do you want me to take out her daughter?" he asks with uncertainty.
"What?"
He shrugs it off, seemingly relieved that this is not what I meant. He shakes his head and then flashes me his smile.
"No I don't want you to take out her daughter," I say firmly. "You're mine. No daughter of Madge for you," I scold.
"She's called Eloise."
"I don't care if she's called Scarlett Johansson. No."
"If you're certain Sookie? I only wish to help." My brother has this great expression. Shit-eating grin. That is what he is wearing right now.
"Eric."
"Sookie?"
"No."
"Alright, Sookie," he says. He steps close to me and kisses me on the forehead. Pulling away he asks, "Sookie?"
"Yeah?"
"It's very hot when you are jealous this way."
I narrow my eyes at him. I'm not actually mad of course. He brings his hand to my jaw and tilts my chin up slightly. I hear him draw his breath in as he shifts closer to me and then he is kissing me. I feel him move, and suddenly my back is pressed to the bed. He pulls back slightly, his hair is falling forward to frame both of our faces. I am panting slightly as he withdraws from the kiss and he smirks.
"I have to go to work," he says, though not moving.
"Okay," I say, giving a tiny nod.
He stayed like that for a long moment, staring at me, until he finally rocks back on his shoulders drawing away. I catch him for another kiss and then break it off suddenly and pull away myself.
"I forgot to tell you!" I exclaim.
"Yes?"
"Peter Threadgill crashed my lunch date with Jade yesterday."
"Did he?" Eric frowns.
I explained to Eric as quickly as I could about what Peter had said about him and his father, and about David, and how Jade had looked surprised when he'd spoken of placing David here, and his remaining in Little Rock.
"I may say something to Jade," Eric says eventually. His phone starts buzzing in his pocket. Without even looking at it he says, "That is Pam. I need to go." He quickly ties his hair back and takes up his briefcase. I get one more kiss and he is gone, and so I hustle to get dressed and organized and get back to Amelia.
I do a totally heinous thing. While waiting my turn in line at the café, I called Claudine.
"Sookie, hello. I tried to call you in the evening yesterday."
"I'm sorry Claudine, I had a best friend emergency." By the time I'd seen her missed call, it was well after the close of business, so I hadn't called her back.
"Oh, is everything alright?" she asks.
"Yes, I just needed to be there for someone." I'm still not clear on the animosity between Amelia and Claudine. I'll try to raise the issue today but meanwhile I'm not going to bring Amelia's name up. Besides, Claudine is just being polite in the asking. It is of no consequence to her at all if random unspecified friend of mine is alright. "I was calling to find out how it went with Madge."
"Very well actually. I had the impression that she really liked you and was just going to proceed with the formality of her screening process. We should know by the end of the week."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."
"Why, what's the matter?"
"It's just a funny coincidence. She had wanted to set my boyfriend up with her daughter, I don't think it was a very serious attempt, but he recognized her name. I got all nervous that she would hate me for being the reason he didn't take her up on it."
"Really? Who is your boyfriend?"
"Uhm, his name is Eric Northman."
"The hotel heir?" I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment so I could aim my look of disbelief at something. Why would she know who Eric is?
"Uh, yeah. I guess he is."
"Wow," she says.
"Right... anyway, so you think it seems likely I'll get that place?"
"Oh yes. And I've had a look over her lease agreement, and it's completely standard. First, last, security. Heat, electric, and water are covered. One thing we did not think to ask about on Tuesday was the central air, and they do have it so that will be a blessing in another month or so. Cable and internet, you would have to set these up, but the place is already wired."
"It's still sounding perfect," I assure her.
"Good, then I'll call you as soon as I hear back from her."
I thank Claudine and hang up just as my turn to place my order comes up. I was sure glad I didn't have to make the girl at the counter wait for me, nor the people who'd come in behind me. I make it back to Amelia's carrying my parcel of half a dozen beignets, two egg-white sandwiches on wheat toast, and two cups of still steaming coffee.
"I don't even know what to do with myself today," she complains, taking a big powdered-sugary bite of her pastry.
"I do. You're coming with me to get my ring appraised. Then we're going to the movies and watching something with a happy ending."
"You have it here?" she asks, surprised.
I nodded toward my purse, which was closer to her, so she slid it over to me. I gave her the box.
"Holy shit, Lafayette wasn't kidding," she says.
I smirked, even without having a clue what Lafayette would have relayed about the ring. "Yup. Could you ever see me wearing something like that?"
"Uh, no, not really."
After breakfast I called Pam's jeweller to ask if I could come in for an appraisal, and he said it would be no problem for me to stop in any time this morning. The shop turned out to be a very small one, specializing in estate jewellery and repair and sizing work. It was fascinating, and not only because the display cases were filled with very unique pieces. It was clearly more of a jeweller's shop than simply a jewellery store. There was a large microscope set up on one end of the counter and all manner of... well, doodads, around the place. Some were antique tools, finely wrought things in their own rights, but most of the ones situated in arm's reach looked to be in use. I introduced myself to the older gentleman at the counter.
"Hello, I'm Sookie Stackhouse, I think we spoke on the phone a bit ago?" I offer my hand.
The man shakes it with a warm smile. He seems to fit in to the surroundings quite perfectly, having a rather refined look about him. His hair is blonde going to white, and though he is obviously aged, the lines in his skin are quite fine. Not the deep wrinkles you might normally see in someone the age of a grandfather, which he clearly was, but rather very thin, spider web traces across his hands and his brow. If he were a women, I'd say he was a model for aging gracefully. Since that's not the sort of thing one really expects in a man, his look was rather odd. He seemed kind enough. He introduces himself as Niall Brigant, owner and proprietor.
"I understand you have a ring you are looking to have appraised?"
"Yes," I agree.
He gestures me to the counter and lays out a black cloth, and takes his own seat on the opposite side. I take the ring box out of my purse and Amelia pats my shoulder to indicate that she was going to move away and browse. I nod to her and turn my attention back to Mr. Brigant.
"Now, will this be for insurance purposes or will you be looking to sell this piece?" He asks, what I presume is, the routine question as he leans to the side and retrieves a magnifying glass and a sort of visor thing with glasses and a flashlight attached. He fixes them to his face and pops the light on.
"I would like to sell it," I say firmly. "It is nothing I want." He'll open the box and see it's an engagement ring in about a second and hopefully that comment will make perfect sense.
I watch as he flips open the little box, giving a small gasp as he does so.
"Oh, that is quite something, isn't it?" he asks. It seems like a rhetorical question so I don't answer.
Moving with an air of formality he removes the ring from its box and begins to examine it. It sparkles quite a bit when he turns his little light on it.
"Ah, that's unfortunate," he remarks, as he catches sight of the engraving. I smirk, but he is so involved with the ring that he doesn't notice it. He gets out his little cone-cup magnifying tool and sets it down.
"Do you have the certificate for this stone?" he asks.
"I don't, no."
"You will want to get this certified before you attempt to sell it. Without the certification, you will be robbed. The fee for this is five hundred dollars. There is a contract I have for this. The stone is shipped overnight and insured of course, to the laboratory, and then it is about two weeks for them to complete the certification process and return it. We will need to unmount the stone from its setting, of course."
"And that's worth it, in your opinion? Worth the cost I mean. I am not sure how to go about selling it."
He turns his head up from the ring, and so I am looking at his eyes through the magnification lenses. It is impossible to miss, therefore, the very stern look he is giving me.
"Yes. The certification fee is a very tiny fraction of the value of a stone of this size and quality. I could offer a very low estimate of fifty thousand per carat weight, and that is just based on what I see before me, which is no visible flaws and very good cut and colour. The retail value or insurance value will have been much higher, you understand. The certification will provide a scientific grading which you can carry with you to a wholesaler, and the fact that the stone is already certified can carry directly into the sale price you negotiate, as that becomes a cost and inconvenience they do not have to undertake."
I nodded. That is a perfectly reasonable explanation. "Well, let's do it," I say with a little sigh, reaching into my purse for my wallet.
"My fee will cover the cost of the wholesale and insurance appraisals once the stone is certified. I can unmount it for you now, if you would like?"
I nod again, feeling a bit like a bobblehead doll.
"Go ahead," I say.
The jeweller set the ring down with care, and retreated into his back room, returning with a small tool kit, and a few sheets of paper. The papers, he hands to me. It's the contract for the appraisal and certification. I start to look it over but I become more interested with his work. He had pulled on a pair of thin gloves. I watch with interest as he slides the ring onto a long rod then turns a crank on the end so the rod splits in half and expands. This allows him to get a decent grip on it without holding the ring in his own hand. He carefully takes up a small black tool with several notches in it and prises up one of the prongs around the setting with a very careful movement. He has another small tool that he touches to the diamond and sort of jiggles it free. He sets it on the black cloth, never touching it. He swivels in his chair and brings up a small electronic scale. He weighs the diamond and then puts it in a small padded wrapper. Almost as an afterthought, he weighs the platinum setting, the actual ring.
Asking for the paper back, he begins to make notes about the stone. He asks me questions about whether or not I wanted the gem to be inscribed with its identification number. I thought that sounded like a good idea. Apparently it was microscopic and would not affect the value. When he was done, he had me look it all over and sign the form. He would mail it this afternoon, and my gem would be returned here within a couple of weeks. Then I would come in for the appraisal.
"This you can take now if you like, or I can keep it here," he says, offering me the platinum ring back in a small clear plastic bag. It looked very odd and spiky without a stone set in it. "There is not much value in the setting. I would say to give it away, if you had a friend who is a jewellery maker. They are sold in retail stores for perhaps two or three hundred dollars, but to try to sell it to one of these wholesale metal buyers you will get perhaps a quarter of that or less."
I place the bag back on the counter, next to the ring in its little envelope and the other papers we had filled out. "I will leave it here then and pick them both up together," I say. I just didn't want to carry the stupid thing around anymore.
"I see," he says thoughtfully. "If you do not mind me saying so, it is a sad thing to have to do. I am sorry that the engraving proved to be incorrect, and he was not your one and only."
I frown a little at his remark. This would be the pity and judgment that Lafayette had warned me about. I turn toward Amelia, who is still perusing one of the display cabinets. "As it turned out actually, it was I that wasn't his. One or only, that is," I say, with what dignity I can muster. I let my mouth settle into a hard line.
After a long moment he says, "Thank you for bringing in the stone. It is a lovely object, in itself. I will phone you once it is returned from the gem laboratory."
I give him a stiff nod and shake his hand. I'm ready to leave, but Amelia had evidently found something that had struck her fancy, and she decides to treat herself to a new bracelet. It is antique gold and garnet and amethyst and very pretty. She pays for it and wears it out, carrying its empty box and a small bag with her as we go.
"That wasn't so terrible," I say, as we walk back to the Rabbit.
"No, he seemed to know his stuff. That was a very nice shop. Did you see the watches?"
I had seen, briefly, the case full of old watches. They were all so intricate and delicate, very different from the modern styles you see, which tend to be just sleek and shiny. "Yes," I agree. "They were pretty, but I don't wear a watch. There's a clock in my classroom and there's a clock on my phone, and a clock in the car." A thought occurred to me that I pushed to the side for now. Amelia should really meet Pam some time.
"Movies or manicures?" I ask her, as we settle into the car.
"Is it too early for movies?" Amelia asks, pointedly checking her watch then shooting me a grin. Good, grinning. Progress.
"Probably," I answer.
"Manicures it is, then."
We deliberated where to go, but opted for her usual place in the end. She'd expressed interest in seeing the spa at the hotel, but I thought that might be awkward. Eric had said more than once that I could feel free, but I wasn't terribly comfortable with that in general. The idea of inviting a friend to his hospitality didn't sit well especially. Finally, I figured today was not the day for he and Amelia to meet, should we happen to run into him. I did want to get them together, but I'd save introducing my best friend to my boyfriend on a day when my best friend wasn't moping with heartache.
I got my finger and toenails painted in a sassy hot pink, while Amelia opted for a softer peach colour. The subdued hue matched her mood, but it was still pretty. After our pampering we found we were right on time to catch a matinee. We had a choice between something animated and cute or a romantic comedy. Amelia picked the rom-com, which I took as another hopeful sign. We had a late lunch after that and when my phone rang, I grabbed for it excitedly. It wasn't Claudine though. It was a school asking me to come and interview. I apologized, saying I'd already found a position, and the woman thanked me just the same and we hung up. I explained to Amelia what call I'm so eager to receive, and told her all about the little house as I hadn't had a chance to do so yet.
"So Claudine is basically wonderful," I say. "Thank you so much for giving me her name."
"I'm glad she worked out for you," she replies, and unless I'm mistaken, a little coolly.
"So what's up with you two?"
"What do you mean?"
"You don't get along."
"That is correct."
"But you recommended her to me."
"She's very good at her job."
"But?"
Amelia let out a long sharp breath. "I know her from WE, right? And she's a woman entrepreneur, a business owner, perfectly fine. Her business partner is her brother, and that's okay, some of the other women in the group have male partners, it doesn't exclude them or anything. Except that she brought the brother to one of our mixers and of course it turns out that he's some sort of male model wannabe."
"Okay," I say. Had Amelia dated her brother or something?
"Anyway, so naturally all the women at the luncheon were just fawning all over him. He's attractive, sure, but he's not really my taste. He's a bit too cut and polished." I nod. Amelia likes men who are lean, and perhaps even a little scruffy.
"So I was standing a bit back from all that happening, and she comes over and makes some comment about men not being what I'm interested in, as if that's the only reason I could resist her brother. I said no, just that particular one is not, and she just shrugged and then talked a bit about how useful it is, being attractive. I guess the fact that they use their own pictures in their advertisements; it brings more business to them. And that's...fine," she continues, emphasising that she really didn't think too well of the whole concept of 'sex sells' but accepted it nonetheless. "But I said something along the lines of that not being my style, and she shot back right away with, 'Well we all have to use the tools available to us. I mean we don't all have Daddy's money backing us up, do we Miss Carmichael?'"
As she finished her explanation I had a very complete understanding of the animosity on Amelia's part.
"How did she know about that?" I ask.
"I don't know. I mean I suppose it's not terribly hard to know, if she knows my father in some capacity."
"She knows Eric too," I said, frowning. "Or knows who he is, anyway."
"Well that's not too strange, especially lately. He was in the newspaper a bit following Sten Northman's death."
"Was he?"
"Well sure. Single and attractive millionaires with large inheritances due to tragedies, are news...especially when it involves the fate of local companies, and local jobs. Did you not see any of it?"
"We were in Bon Temps right after it happened," I frowned. "We only really get the papers on the weekends usually. Normally I just get the national and international news," I say, gesturing to my phone in explanation.
"You're so cute with the 'what we do' already," she says affectionately.
I smiled. "I like him," I tell her with sincerity.
"I'm glad," she says, smirking. "And he's not really an asshole, right?"
My smile widens into a little laugh. "I guess he can be, but he's not to me. He can get a little tense when he's not having his way," I say, biting my lip. "That's normal though right? I mean no one is absolutely perfect all the time."
"No, no one is perfect all the time," she agrees, and then she sighs.
"I'm sorry about Penny," I say.
"Me too. It's her, I think. A lot is that I really liked her," she admits. "But maybe even more than that, I think I just want what you have, and what Lafayette has. I'm not jealous, not resentful, but I guess I'm a little envious?"
I nod. "That's okay," I assure her. "It doesn't make you some covetous monster just because you want what others have. You just have to be a bit careful about it. Guard your heart, as opposed to keeping it locked in the tallest tower."
She rolls her eyes at me. "How do you even manage to still be a romantic after Bill?"
I lifted my eyebrows. "What is the alternative? Buy a cat and resign myself to spinsterhood at twenty-five?"
"That's a misconception. The cat is completely optional."
"Noted," I smirk.
"When are you going home next?" she asks suddently.
I chuckle again. "Where's home anymore? I feel like I've been a migrant worker for weeks now."
"Well, I meant Gran's," she says. I love that she gets that it'll always be Gran's. I love that she misses Gran.
"I was going to go today, but I'm waiting to hear about this place. And then of course, I'm just literally waiting around. I need to do my laundry. I want to check on the garden, but I just get sick of driving back and forth and back and forth, let alone the cost of gas. Thank God the Rabbit gets good mileage."
"Yeah, I've been wondering about that. You're going to get down here and never want to go visit again after all this back and forth."
"That's not going to happen," I grin. "I'll always want to visit."
"May I forward a proposal?" she asks, adopting a tone of formality.
"The floor is yours, Miss Broadway," I say, giving a magnanimous wave of my hands.
"We go pack right now, tag team the drive up with the switch in Alexandria, as per the good old days. We spend all day tomorrow cooking Gran's fried chicken, and cornbread, string beans, and mashed potatoes, and have Jason and Crystal over for dinner tomorrow night, cause I want to meet her. Then Friday we can drive around and look for picturesque spots for their wedding photos, then drive back here Friday afternoon so you can have your weekend with loverboy."
I pursed my lips, considering.
"I could really do with a couple of nights out of town," she says, almost pleadingly.
"Alright, Miss Broadway, you have a deal."
It actually worked out somewhat perfectly that she'd suggested it. I had been holding in reserve the possibility of whisking her away to Bon Temps, and while I was busy here, I did have things I needed to take care of at the house. We left the restaurant and I dropped her off at home, promising to pick her back up shortly. I parked my car back at the hotel and call Pam on my way upstairs.
"Oh, hello, how are you?" she asks after I've identified myself.
"I'm fine, Pam. I was just calling to let you know I'm going to be out of y'all's hair for the next couple of days. I'll be back Friday evening. Will you be around this weekend?"
"No, I am flying Friday afternoon, there are some things I need to retrieve for Eric and I in Seattle."
"Ah, what a slave driver that boss of yours," I grin.
"I do what needs to be done, as does he."
"You're being very diplomatic Pammy, do you have an audience?"
"I do. The slave driver himself is sitting right here."
"Oh is he? I figured he'd be in a meeting or something."
"No. Would you care to say hello? Eric, it is Sookie calling," she says, without giving me the chance to answer her, not that I mind talking to Eric one little bit.
"Sookie?" he asks after a second.
"Hey," I say warmly. "I didn't know if you'd be available, I was just letting Pam know that I'm heading north for a couple of days with Amelia."
"Ah. You'll be back for the weekend then?" he asks.
"If you'd like the company," I hedge.
"I would," he agrees. "You haven't left yet," he says with certainty. "Where are you?"
"Just getting off the elevator."
I hear a door click open behind me and turn to see Eric emerging from Pam's room. I drop the phone from my ear and smile.
"Twenty minute break," he tells her, handing her phone back. I see her in the doorway smirking and she gives me a little wave before going back inside.
"Hi," I say as he crosses the distance between us and wraps me in a huge hug. "I didn't know you were around," I repeat.
"I am around," he says, giving me a squeeze for emphasis. I'm lifted off the ground momentarily with his arms curled around my waist before he sets me down again. "You were just going to sneak off and leave word with my assistant, hm?"
I just roll my eyes. I was going to call him, or at least leave a message and then call him back later. "I'm glad you happen to be here," I say, leaning up to kiss him.
"Yes, it is quite fortuitous," he agrees, once we break apart.
He follows me back to his room, listening as I tell him my plans with Amelia and he agrees it's a better option than waiting around down here on tenterhooks for the call from Madge.
"Will you be here Sunday afternoon?" he asks.
"Yes."
"We've been invited to lunch with my grandmother," he says. "She made a point of asking if you'd come specifically."
"That's so kind of her," I say. "Is that something you would like to do?"
"I am indifferent. Is it something that you would like to do?"
"She's your grandmother, Eric," I answer.
"And she is shrewd enough to invite you, putting the matter in your hands," he says.
"Those Northmans, they are all quite shrewd," I observe. "If I say yes, we should go, will you be quietly resentful the whole time we are there?"
"No."
"Then we should go."
"Alright. I will let her know," he says.
I began gathering my things up while he leaned back against the bed. It was something of a reversal of this morning. I was fairly hasty in my packing, basically just shoving things from the closet back into my suitcase.
"You don't have to take everything you know," he observes. I turn and give him a confused expression. "I mean you could leave some things here, if you wanted to. You wouldn't have to pack as much. I find it very convenient when I'm going back and forth."
For a fleeting moment his expression seemed uncertain, but he quickly smoothed it in favour of his normal calm. "You wouldn't mind that?" I ask.
"I would not," he says, leaning over and snatching something lacy off the top of my open suitcase. "Like these. Feel free to leave as many of these as you like." He started twirling my underwear around his finger by their waistband with a lazy smile.
I grinned in kind and snatched them away from him, but threw them into his laundry bag instead of my suitcase. They could go down with his things, and he could have them back when they were clean, thank you. I had amassed a small collection of his handkerchiefs at home, so technically it was only fair. I pulled a few more things out of my suitcase and put them in with his laundry. I left my navy suit and a more formal dress and a pair of pumps in his closet. They were things I'd really only wear down here anyway. When I was finished with what packing up I did do, I wandered over to the bed and he pulled me forward. I climbed up and straddled his lap and began to give him a very thorough series of goodbye kisses. He groaned and pulled me down and against his groin so I'd have no mistake about the effect I was having on him, but then he pulled away.
"I need to get back," he said with a sigh. "And you need to go."
I nodded, but began kissing him again, and he obliged me quite happily for another few minutes.
"Sookie," he said warningly. It was his husky, lusty voice. I love that voice.
"Eric," I said breathily, shifting to nibble at his earlobe.
He took me by the shoulders and pushed me back from him. I gave him my sweetest of smiles and batted my lashes. He smacked me hard on the butt then rubbed over it. I squealed then squirmed against him. He cocked an eyebrow at my response.
"That is something we will need to explore more at a later date and time," he says. Since I was still making no effort to move away from him, he grabbed me around the waist again and stood up before setting me down on my feet. Reluctantly I smoothed my hands down my front, straightening my shirt and then I straightened his. He picked up my suitcase and carried it out of the bedroom leaving me no choice but to follow him. I tried to protest when we got to the elevator, thinking he really didn't need to carry it all the way down to the car for me. He assured me he would benefit from the walk and the fresh air. He sent me on my way with a far more reserved kiss down at the car, and I went back to Amelia's to pick her up.
Trunk space is not one of the Rabbit's many virtues, so together we hoisted Amelia's bag into the back seat. She packed like Pam. This was way too large for two days, but I didn't take the opportunity to tease her. The drive north was actually fun. We did rehash our college days. She tuned the radio and we sang horribly along to pop songs and country songs, and oldies. We stopped for gas at the old rest stop where we'd always been accustomed to stopping when we made our weekend jaunts to Gran's and she purchased a ridiculous amount of junk food while I pumped the gas. We realized about forty-five minutes later that our 'adult tastes' had finally kicked in, rendering most of the junk pretty unappealing. We decided to save it for my brother, who would still eat pretty much anything.
I called him on our way up and proposed the plan for fried chicken tomorrow night. He happily invited us over to cook the chicken at his house. He'd gotten one of those deep fat fryers on sale at Walmart. He fully intended on cooking the turkey in it for Thanksgiving this year, and was very eager to try it out as soon as possible. Crystal said she'd be happy to see us as well, so our plan was pretty much set. Jason reminded me to make sure to stop on my way home tonight to buy the chicken and soak it in buttermilk overnight. I just rolled my eyes at that.
"Like you have to tell me how to make Gran's chicken, Jason," I said scathingly.
"I just don't want you to screw it up Sook," he teases.
"Oh, I won't be screwing up," I say. "You're going to be so full you'll have to pop the button on your jeans, Jason Stackhouse."
"Looking forward to it, little sister. You got Eric coming with you too?"
"No, he's got to work. It's just me and Amelia."
"See? Even though I'm getting' married, the women all still flock to me."
"You're giving good meaning to the expression 'Oh, Brother' there Jas," I tease him.
We hung up not long after that. I had my turn commanding the radio while Amelia drove, and together we worked out our shopping list. We'd have to stop on our way in. I remember being really young and thinking it was very silly how stores were open after dark, because of course, in the care of Gran, and me being a child, we never went out that late, so it made no logical sense to me that they'd be open. As an adult, I was pleased as punch to be able to do a full round of grocery shopping at ten o'clock at night. That's what we did, and so it was nearly eleven by the time we got back to the house. I changed the bed sheets while Amelia got the trays down for the chicken. It was nice to have someone in the house who was familiar with it. The only person who had spent any regular time at all here since Gran had died had been Bill, and he'd definitely always been a guest.
It wasn't weird to share a bed with Amelia. We'd done it many times before, but it did remind me once again that I really needed to shop. I'd been putting it off in favour of waiting for the New Orleans move, but decided to try to accomplish it tomorrow after we'd done our baking in the morning. There wasn't actually a whole lot to do. We made the cornbread and cut seasoned the beans. We'd steam them over at Jason's while he cooked the chicken. We boiled and mashed the potatoes and added the garlic, salt, and pepper. We could warm them up later when we added the cream and the butter. We ended up cutting into the cornbread as a part of our breakfast, and I browned up a few of the potatoes with some eggs for us as well. Even still, our morning duties took no more than a couple of hours. I got my laundry started and went out to the garden for a little while. I was probably a day late getting things watered, but everything perked right up after a drink. My little seedlings in their tray on the porch were coming up too.
Around noon we headed out to the Loudermilk place and Amelia got really thoughtful. It was a hot day and we were both in shorts, so we didn't delve too far back into the woods. We had a nice walk around the property which she declared was bordering on spooky.
"It's too bad it's so far away," she said. "This would be such a cute place to run as a little inn or something."
"I thought about that. Not that I really have the money to invest in it, but even if I did, we're so far off the beaten path here. It's not like Bon Temps is a vacation destination."
"A lot of people just like the quiet. You've got the land. You could...I don't know, get horses or something."
"Horses?"
"Yeah to ride on?"
"I don't know the first thing about horses. You sound like Alcide Herveaux, telling me the place would be great with a pool."
"Who's that?"
"The surveyor. He's coming back in a week or so to tell me if we can even spare the house. To see if it's structurally sound."
"Let me know if you like him. The last building surveyor I worked with would not stop little ladying me." I raised my eyebrow at the expression. "You know, 'Now, see here, little lady,'" she said, effecting the tone of a good ole' boy.
"Ah yes. One of those. Well, this guy seemed alright. Lovely to look at, too," I admit with a smile.
"Why Miss Stackhouse, I declare," she says, affecting her heaviest accent and sounding scandalised. "What about Eric?"
"Eric has no competition," I winked. "But I know you can appreciate a fine lookin' man, Miss Broadway," I retort.
"Maybe," she says evasively. Oops. I hope that comment didn't rub her the wrong way, suggesting she date a man to get over a woman or something. I hadn't meant to be insensitive.
"Well, if he does a good job I'll give you his company info. I guess they're mostly based up here, but he did mention that he does some work in New Orleans. Why would you need him? Are you building or buying again?" I ask.
"I'm always thinking of it. I've already got two apartments under contract to sell and we're still in construction," she admits.
"Amelia, that's awesome!" I exclaim.
"It kind of is, yes. Dad's proud too," she says. And that, I know, is more praise than I can ever offer her. I beamed.
We didn't stay much longer at the property but she said she'd like to come back another time and tramp through the woods and she regretted that we couldn't go inside the house and look around. We headed out to Monroe to look at beds but unfortunately they did not have the kind that they had in Eric's hotel. Apparently these were a luxury line that was only distributed commercially. I found that to be very annoying, and I had half a mind to ask Eric to order them for me and just pay him, but we were already at the store which was the size of a warehouse with beds for me to try out, so I just did that, instead. Amelia was little help. She had one of these memory foam ones in her room. The ones made of the material developed by NASA. I didn't care for it, no matter how luxurious it was supposed to be.
I did finally find a bed that I liked with a nice firm mattress. I ordered two in the California King size, one for my room at Gran's and one for the new apartment. I let Amelia pick the Queen-sized one for the guest room, which was a little softer, but still alright by me. I figured if anything, she'd be more likely to ever sleep on it, so she may as well like it. The beds would be delivered tomorrow and they'd take away Gran's old one, and set up the two. Our next shop was for bed sheets, and Amelia encouraged me to splurge.
"You spend a third of your life in bed," she refrained. I'd heard this said many times before. "You don't want scratchy sheets!"
Way too many dollars later, we were back at Gran's and were just unpacking when Jason called to let us know to come on over since he was starting up the fryer. We carefully packed up the food and took the short drive over to Jason and Crystal's house. I'd already wrapped my head around the idea that it was theirs, and not his. She wasn't home from work yet, but he had us go right ahead and get set up in her kitchen. It was bigger and slightly more modern than Gran's, having been built by my parents back in the seventies.
Amelia got the water boiling for the beans and I set the huge pot of mashed potatoes on the opposite burner and started working in the sour cream over warm heat. We could see Jason out on the deck through the double glass doors in the kitchen casually watching over his brand new propane-powered deep fryer with a look of satisfaction. I had a big paper bag full of the carefully measured mixture of flour, paprika, salt, pepper, cayenne, and cornstarch that I'd be using to shake the chicken pieces up in to ensure their even coating before they went in the fryer. The fryer itself was the only variation on Adele Stackhouse's famous (in this house at least) fried chicken. She did hers in a big old cast iron skillet, but we were still using the peanut oil that she prescribed. I'd railed on Jason about making sure he had it after he'd railed on me about soaking the chicken in buttermilk. There's just a way that things are done, modern contrivances or no.
We heard Crystal come in and she hollered her hellos and Jason came in the house at the same time. He really loved the technique of shaking the chicken up in the bag and was eager to teach Crystal, as well as have me give her the recipe for the coating. He took one of the two trays of chicken out to the deck and came back for the bag. Crystal returned from the bedroom wearing a tank top and some short shorts and arched her back as she entered the kitchen, stretching away the cares of the day.
"Somethin' smells gooood in here," she cooed, and Amelia and I grinned at her, and I made the introductions between my future sister-in-law and my best friend.
We heard Jason stomping around on the porch and heard him call out to his bride to be, "Crystal get that cute butt out here, we got chicken to fry!" and then his paces stopped and after a moment he shouted out and there was a horrible clomping noise as his feet and something else heavy hit the wooden deck. As I turned toward the deck, I saw Crystal's face contort with horror and then I heard the terrible WHOOMPH even through the glass. Somehow by the time I turned around, the oil in the fryer was ablaze, shooting out of the cylindrical canister about three feet into the air.
Beyond the fire I saw my brother, grasping the fryer's lid and using it as a shield from the flame, trying to get close enough to it to... I don't know what he was thinking. Stifle the fire? Beat it back? There were gallons of burning oil in the damn thing. I didn't know what he could do besides wait for it to burn down? Call the fire department maybe. Not my brother.
"Jason! No!" I heard myself shout, as he moved closer. He had tried to sort of half-slide, half-chuck the lid on to the fryer but it caught the blazing heat and burned his hand and the thing went careening over the surface, carried by his power and I stood agape in one long moment as the entire device rocked on its stand, once, twice...
"Oh my God JASON MOVE!" I screamed and saw him step back as the oil tipped over and like a wave breaking on the shores of Hell, fire sloshed across the wooden deck. I could no longer see my brother.
Crystal's eyes were wide and fixated on the orange glow that poured against the glass. Amelia's grip tightened around my arm and I found myself grabbing my friend and my sister and pulling them bodily toward the front door. We reached the front driveway. I don't know how I got them through the door and down the short stairs. I took a quick inventory of the women and while Amelia was blinking confusedly, Crystal went stark white and was starting to shake.
"Amelia," I said loudly, trying to snap her to attention. "Amelia!" I yelled at her, and her eyes locked on mine. "Take Crystal," I pointed toward the end of the driveway. "Take Crystal and call the fire department. Right now," I ordered. My friend blinked at me. "Amelia Broadway!" I yelled. She nodded. She shifted herself so her arms were around Crystal and started walking her away and I watched them take three steps before I turned on my heel and ran in search of my brother.
"Jason!" I called out, tearing around the side of the house toward the back yard. "Jason!" I screeched. I saw him supine at the foot of the short three steps leading down from the deck. His pants leg was burning and fire was running towards him, catching the fresh resin on the deck. I heard cracking, but I couldn't look at the fire, I could only see Jason. I didn't know if he was passed out or stunned or if he'd simply fallen but he wasn't moving. I threw myself toward him and wrenched his arm up but it was no good. I moved behind him and hooked my arms under his and held my wrists across his chest and heaved. He moved back a step. I heaved again, and stepped and again, and again. I was maybe ten paces from the fire when I realized that his leg was still burning and I lurched up, letting my brother's shoulders fall against the ground again and pushed the middle of my body down across his leg to quench the flames. I felt the warmth through my shirt but I pressed so tightly down on him that the fire went out immediately. His jeans were smouldering when I pulled away but they weren't burning any more. I swatted at the embers, burning my hand.
I crawled up to his face and shook him by the shoulders. "Jason!" I yelled, straining to rouse him. "Jason!" He stirred. Thank you God. Thank you God. Thank You. Thank You. "Jason you need to move," I told him. He coughed, rolled, crawled. I saw the back of his head as he did. Bloody. He'd stumbled backwards off the deck. He groaned.
"Sookie? Crystal? The baby..." he slumped forwards, catching his head in his hands.
"Jason move away, I can't drag you. Crystal's just fine Jason, keep moving," I say, twenty paces from the fire. He dragged himself. I pulled ineffectually at the shoulders of his t-shirt, urging him. Thirty paces. I caught myself coughing violently. Amelia. Crystal. I left my brother hunched and inching down the yard toward the lake. I ran toward the front of the house again, going wide around the smoke. All I could see now was the smoke, until I reached the driveway and found my purse lying in the middle of the cement. When had I grabbed it? I bent to pick it up and trotted down to the edge of the driveway where Amelia was hunched around Crystal who was sobbing. I heard the sirens.
"Crystal he's okay. Jason is okay," I told her, and found myself on my knees coughing, panting. "Jason is okay," I assured her, myself, Amelia. A pickup truck pulled up to the side of the road across from the driveway and a man I knew got out and ran over to us.
"Where's Jason?" he barked at me. Shirley Hennessey. His name was Shirley Hennessey, and he went by Catfish. I brought myself to my feet again and ran back, trusting that Catfish would follow. I found my brother nearly down to the dock, still moving by inches away from inferno that blossomed up behind us. Even at this distance I could feel the heat on my back. Catfish came up to us within seconds and he helped me hoist Jason to his feet, shouting at him and demanding that he stand up and walk. Between us we started to get him to the front of the house. About halfway up another man came and took my place supporting Jason's right shoulder and I was ordered to the end of the driveway with the others just as the fire truck pulled in.
Someone brought me a bottle of water. I drank it gratefully and asked for another, taking Amelia's when she offered it. I started laughing as I thought of Eric teasing me for being so wasteful once again. Hysteria. The smoke was mixing with steam now, billowing into the dusky sky. My brother was taken to the hospital and Crystal went with him. She would be fine. The baby would be fine, and Jason would be fine too. I thought fleetingly that I should go with them, but surely someone needed to stay here and talk to the police and the firemen? At some point some EMTs arrived and because Jason was already gone they set about examining me and Amelia. I was given an oxygen mask to wear. A man gave me a jacket. I was covered in greasy black soot and my shirt had singed where I'd leaned over Jason. A man had unceremoniously jerked up my shift to show I had some pinked skin, nothing serious.
When the fire was finally out I restarted the story of what happened for a third time, for the remaining men. There was a small crowd around Amelia and I and we spoke in turns telling what we'd seen, how the oil had tipped and the deck had quickly gone up against the side of the house. The kitchen and Jason's "mancave" had been destroyed. A bathroom, too. The rest, it would take time to tell. There would be smoke and water damage everywhere. I thanked the men who had come to put the fire out. I pulled Catfish Hennessey into a fierce hug and thanked him for being here first, for helping to save my brother.
I looked at Amelia and she smiled faintly. I hugged her too. "Never a dull moment in Bon Temps," she said weakly. I laughed mirthlessly. It was another hour before the last of the officials had left. Amelia and I were both weary, so I took her to my house, and we both took showers and changed our clothes. We brought clothes for Crystal too, in case she wanted to change, and we drove to the hospital.
Crystal and Jason were both okay. Crystal had been checked over by the doctors because she was pregnant and had suffered a serious alarm and stress, but they had assured her and Jason both that she was in fine shape. My brother had second and third degree burns over a small area on his leg, and a mild concussion where he'd hit his head tripping off the stairs as he hurried to get away from the fire.
"We're a matched pair now, Sook," he grinned up at me as I hovered over his bed. He was referring to the fact that we'd both been concussed lately. I burst into tears. Amelia produced some tissues out of nowhere and thrust them at me. "Aw Sook, cut that out, we're fine."
I continued to snivel for several minutes more, all of the stress of the last few hours hitting me at once. I'd pretty much held it together the entire time, and all at once I was struck with the fact that we very nearly lost a hell of a lot more than my parents' house today. I took my brother's hand and thanked God again out loud for the safety of my friend and my family, and for our neighbours who had rushed to help. We stayed with Jason for a while longer and eventually the nurses urged us all to leave and let him rest. We could pick him up in the morning.
At her request, I brought Crystal to Maryelizabeth's house. I'd offered to let her stay with me, but she declined. I told her we'd come back for her in the morning to go and pick up Jason and she thanked me for that as she left from the car into the arms of her cousin who gave us a wave as she lead Crystal inside.
"Are you alright?" I asked Amelia seriously when we were alone again.
"Shaken," she said. "But alright. Are you?" she asked. I could feel her studying gaze as I drove.
"He was on fire." I told her. "I can't get that out of my head."
"You put it out though," she told me. She'd heard me recount this multiple times already.
"I'm giving them Gran's house," I stated.
"You can stay with me until you're settled," she said.
I nodded. "Thank you."
We didn't talk much more once we got back to Gran's. She went inside to get ready for bed and I stayed out on the porch to tend to the laundry. It was very late, but I called Eric anyway.
"Sookie?" he answered. I could hear the sleep in his voice and felt badly immediately.
"Hi Eric," I said. "I'm sorry to wake you up."
"Everything okay?" he asked, immediately sounding more alert.
"Not really," I sighed. "My brother's house burned tonight. He's fine, we're all fine, I just... we just got back, and I just wanted to talk to you for a minute before I go to sleep."
"What happened?" he asked.
"Cooking oil caught fire," I explained. "Amelia and I were gonna cook Gran's fried chicken for him and Crystal. Oil caught fire, he tipped the oil."
"You were there? You're alright?" he demanded.
"I was there, and I'm alright," I assure him. "My brother fell, hit his head, trying to get out of the away. Got a burn on his leg, but he's cracking jokes. I had some smoke inhalation, but they just had me breathe oxygen."
"Will you still be back tomorrow night? Do you need me to come up there?"
"No, stay there. We may still be back tomorrow but it's not a certainty. I've got Amelia here with me still, and I won't want to keep her away longer than she planned. We're going to go get Jason in the morning and then we'll just see."
"Can I help?"
"I can't think of anything just now, but thank you for the offering."
"Christ, I'm sorry," he says. I guess this is one of those situations where all you can do is express that. He's sorry it happened. I don't bother with the pedantry of telling him it's not his fault. I know what he means.
"Me too," I agree. I let a long moment of silence fall. "So how was your day, dear?" I asked him, struggling for levity.
He gave an equally weak chuckle. After a moment he began to tell me about an argument he'd had with Sophie Ann, and then about Peter Threadgill's latest gaffe. By the end of the conversation I had begun to feel vaguely normal again.
"Thank you Eric," I told him just before we hung up. "For talking with me. I feel better for it."
"I appreciate that you called me," he said. "I'm very glad you're okay."
"I'll let you get back to sleep them. Good night Eric."
"Good night, Sookie. I'll see you soon."
"Bye."
We hung up then, and I stripped off right there on the porch and walked inside, flipped off the lights, and crawled into bed with Amelia already lain down on the other side.
"Dad says hello," she tells me, without turning over. "How's Eric?"
"Good," I answer. "Sweet. Concerned."
"That's good," she says. "We still going home tomorrow?"
"Think so."