Thistle and Twigg Read Free Page A

I like to get out and walk, too, I told her I might go with her someday.
    “Let’s get together sometime soon,” I said.
    “I’d enjoy that very much,” she said as she turned to go. “Please stop by anytime. So nice to meet you, Phoebe.”
    I told you she was a lady. “Hey, listen. Hang on just a minute, Jane. Let me pay for this and then let’s walk out together.”
    While Harvel was ringing up the tackle box, I said to him, “Before you total that up, I’d also like to purchase a box of bullets, if I may please.” I smiled at him. Mind you, I had no need of bullets myself and had never even touched a gun in all my sixty-five years. But when Jane stood up to the regime like she did, even if she didn’t know she was doing it, it was a star-spangled moment for me.
    Not long before, I’d seen that home-decorating show
DiDi Moody’s House of Beauty,
which comes out of Florence on Wednesday mornings. DiDi said that the best room accessories are ones that have special meaning to you personally.
    It was like a light went on. I went straight upstairs and got in my cedar chest where I kept such things, stuff that represented important days in my life. I took a small tablecloth that had been a wedding gift and covered a little table my granddaddy made. On top, I set my most special treasures. So see, I wanted those bullets for my table, so I’d remember Jane standing up to the Man for her rights, right here in Tullulah, Alabama, where I was an eyewitness. I had no intention to actually use the bullets. Although, when Harvel piped up, I admit a good use for them did cross my mind.
    “Aw, Phoebe, come on now,” he said, snickering. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t have a gun. And wouldn’t know what to do with one if you did.
Snick snick snick.”
    “
Harvel Wriggle.” I blew out some steam and bit my tongue rather than give him a piece of my mind. “Just give me a box of bullets like I asked you, please.” Sometimes a lady has to get a little mean before a man will listen, although I pride myself in having a soft voice and kind manner at least ninety-five percent of the time.
    “Well, you have to tell me what kind,” he said and winked at the old geezers. “Do you want .45 caliber? .357? How about some .44 Magnums so you and Dirty Harry can go out and blow away some street punks?” More guffaws from the eejit corner.
    “Ha. Ha. You’re just as funny as you were in junior high.”
    I looked around on the shelves. “Right there,” I said pointing. “The blue box with the little picture on it. I like that one.” I looked closer when he handed it to me to see what the picture was on top. “A sword and an olive branch?”
    Harvel plopped his hands on the counter. “Yep. Made in Israel.”
    “Oo-wee. Now that’s what I’m talking about,” I said. “Serious high quality.”
    He gave the old guys another look but I didn’t care. I left thinking about more important things, like a little gift for Jane and where on my memento table I’d display my pretty new box of Israeli bullets.

three
Jane Goes to
Phoebe’s House
    N ow then,” Phoebe said, as she gripped her brown paper sack and adjusted the purse on her shoulder. We walked outside the sporting goods store onto the town square’s sidewalk. It was a glorious day with a hint of autumn in the air. Only a few high clouds dotted the sky that was a deep cerulean blue. How nice it was to breathe air heavily scented with the maples, oaks, and evergreen trees that were so prevalent, even in the middle of town.
    When I turned my head toward Phoebe, I looked in the direction of the City Grill. Just beyond it in the alleyway between the cafe and Lloyd’s Drugs, a small head peeped around the corner. It was the little girl with ringlets. She grinned and waved to me. I smiled and waved back without thinking, then dropped my hand self-consciously
    Phoebe glanced in her direction. I assume she saw nothing, for when she turned again to me, she had a most