Vic's Salty Visit

The shiny Studebaker Avanti cruised along the two-lane highway passing corn fields of various heights. The corn should be knee-high by the 4th of July, his farm cousin Cate told him years ago during a visit. Vic slowed down behind a slow-moving farm tractor, not feeling any need to pass. A sign reading Fresh Watermelon ByTheSlice made his mouth water, his throat constricting some, urging him to pull over for a slice. His eyes roved ahead for the turn to the fruit stand and discovered it too late. "Damn! OK, a U-ey it is!" Dimples dented his cheeks as he turned the wheel to the right, looked over his shoulder, then wheeled the Avanti across the two lanes using a bit of the shoulder and reversed course.

He turned East onto a narrow country road, driving a quarter mile into a town. Passing an Ace Hardware, then Riley Drugs and The Tironga Emporium, he came to a white church in the center of the loop. Twelve-inch black letters on a white background read Reverend Boone Welcomes You. The steepled building was the hubcap in a wheel of streets stretching out like spokes from the church grounds.

Vic parked his candy-apple red auto and strolled to the watermelon stand. He was fascinated by a curvy redhead running the stand with espresso eyes, a dimpled chin, and bodybuilder biceps.

"I can tell you are here for a slice of watermelon. I have red and yellow meat."

"I've never had yellow watermelon. I'll try that." Vince was staring; he knew he was but couldn't stop. He watched her biceps ripple as she cut a fresh slice, then turned it into sticks, the rind on the top. Artfully placed on a red plastic plate, she held it out and said,

"$3, please."

"Highway robbery," he replied, counting out three crisp dollar bills. 

"Thank you so much; you will love the yellow meat."

Vic walked back to his car and dug a saltshaker out of his trunk. He hopped onto the car's hood, salted one stick, and took a bite. The yellow meat of the fruit tasted honeyed and super sweet, quenching his thirst and energizing him. He grabbed another stick, sprinkled it with salt, and raised it to his mouth.

"HEY! You can't put salt on my watermelon!" The redhead was at the passenger door of his car, startling him. "That is sinful; you are adulterating the fruit."

His eyes crinkled as he snorted in laughter. "I beg your pardon, Ma'am, but I can eat my watermelon however I like. And I like it with salt."

She glared at him, legs spread wide, hands on her hips. "Where are you from, Mr. Salt?"

He guffawed again; she was hilarious. Mr. Salt, oh my god.

"Missy, it isn't your business where I'm from, and it doesn't matter.

She scowled at him momentarily, then returned to her fruit stand to wait on a newly formed line of customers.

Vic finished his watermelon sticks (salted, of course), wiped his fingers on his jeans since she hadn't given him a napkin, and walked to the Ace Hardware store.

"Afternoon. Can I help you find something?"

"Yes, I hope so. Is there a motel close?" Vic replied.

The man behind the counter eyed him, glasses on the bridge of his nose. "There are rooms for rent, daily or weekly, above The Emporium. Just ask for Sally."

"Well, thanks," Vic replied, heading to The Tironga Emporium. As he entered, his nostrils flared with scents of cinnamon and cedar. Racks of stylish casual clothing stood between displays of knickknacks, candles, charcuterie boards, and acrylic wine glasses in bright colors; in the back area was an apothecary with jars of dried herbs, and on the wall behind that were containers of fresh loose teas. Bags of roasted craft coffee beans were available in travel and kitchen size.

Sally, nearly six feet tall, greeted him from the apothecary counter. "Hi, can I help you find something?"

"Ace Hardware told me there are rooms to rent here. Are you Sally?"

Nodding, she smiled and asked if he wanted a weekly or nightly rental with or without meals and whether he wanted a microwave or mini fridge in the room.

"I would love to have dinner included. I drink coffee for breakfast and usually have a piece of fruit or a sandwich for lunch. A mini fridge would be great." 

She led Vic upstairs to the second door on the right. It was a brightly lit room with mint green walls, a mini fridge, and a full-size bed, with a view of the fruit stand from its window.

"The bathroom is shared; it's pretty big, with a shower in the tub, toiletries for the guests, a shaving mirror, and towels in the linen closet. Lock the door when in the bathroom, and the knob will show occupied.”

Vic nodded at her and controlled his grin because no one was in the upper quarters but the two of them; he was the only room customer. She laid his key on the nightstand and left.

Vic smiled from his window, seeing that the line for the watermelon girl had not let up since he purchased his. She was slicing and making sticks as well as mixing up watermelon slushies. He could hear the VitaMix, the powerful whirring of its sharp blades; he saw the long extension cord for it and her portable waist-high sink with foldable legs, a hose curled under it.

Vic returned to the Emporium and walked the aisles. "Ah ha! Just what I wanted," he exclaimed. Sally's eyebrows rose as he approached her at the register. 

"Mosser Glass, are you a collector?"

    "Oh, no. I don't collect anything. I’m gifting these to someone I just met; they are perfect for her." He declined tissue wrapping for the objects, grabbed some travel-size Morton salt and pepper, and paid her. 

"Hi!" He smiled at the young redhead woman as her chef's knife split open a watermelon. "I have a gift for you – well, for your customers." He held out the salt and pepper and watched an angry thunderstorm roll across her face from her eyebrows to her lips. "Now, don't get all riled up. Please fill these up and set them next to your watermelon purchases. Try it; you'll see." 

He handed her the vintage pale pink Mosser Glass panel salt and pepper shaker set. The scowl melted away, and she gasped in surprise. He winked and walked away.

 Vic was the only diner for Sally that evening, just as he expected.

"Are there other guests currently?" he asked her.

    "No, it's only you right now. It'll pick up in a month or so.

           ***

Vic walked past the church in the morning and noticed the reverse side of its sign read Our Village Welcomes You. He shrugged, thinking the town could use help with signage. Veering off on the three o'clock street spoke, he found a house with a chiropractor sign on the lawn and across the street from it, The Roasted Beanery Brew, a drive-through only. Since no vehicles were around, he approached the window and ordered a double espresso with oat milk foam.

 "Sir, we don't offer oat milk. We have almond milk, though, and I make a mean latte." He considered and changed his order to the latte with almond milk. She put a sleeve on his cup, and he tipped her $2 on top of the $5 charge for the drink. Vic walked up the street and admired the small bungalows chock full of blooms in all colors. Some houses preferred roses; other yards were full of peonies. His favorite was the white Cape Cod with a front yard of wildflowers and dry rock streambeds winding through the blooms.

With the latte cup empty, he looked for a waste receptacle and saw a woman working in the wildflower garden. "I'll take that empty cup if you want to toss it?" Vic was stunned; she was a twin to the watermelon girl, and he stared, not responding. "Do you want to throw it away?" she repeated the question slowly, like he didn't understand spoken English.

"What? Oh. Yes, I would love it if you tossed it for me. That barista sure makes a tasty latte. I'm sorry for staring, but you look exactly like the girl who runs the watermelon stand."

She grinned at him. "That's my daughter Susanna. I'm Marjorie. And you are?"

    "Vic. Pleasure to meet you."

"Vic. Did you try the yellow meat?" Her cheeks had the prettiest dimples, her lips the color of her daughter's pink watermelon without lipstick.

"I did. Delicious. Needed salt." She took the empty cup.

 "Are you visiting someone?"

"Nope. Just driving and decided to stop for watermelon. The town's charm made me get a room at the Emporium for a few nights. Is there anything interesting I should check out while here? 

"Not really, Vic. We are just a small town with nothing much to see or do until Autumn when all the pumpkin patches and hayrack rides begin – you know, all the usual things that farming communities put on for the city folk."

"I may have to come back in Autumn sometime then. Thanks for the info and composting my coffee cup, Marjorie."

     Vic turned back to the church and walked to the right, entering the twelve-noon street spoke. Immediately after rounding a slight bend, there was a city park with benches, tables, swings, and a cement hopscotch board with banged-up hockey pocks for markers. Captivated by the scene, he watched four girls playing the game, overseen by a woman sitting beneath the shade of giant maple trees with an audiobook.

***

Dinner at The Emporium was at six o'clock. Vic saw Marjorie with Susanna and someone he hadn't met. He recognized the Ace Hardware man and the barista sitting next to him. Maybe his daughter?

    Vic began to sit alone but accepted Marjorie's invitation to join them.

     "Did you fill the shakers for your customers?" he asked Susanna.

 "I did. I didn't want to admit it, but you are right. The salt brings out the flavor, and people love using those shakers. They all comment on how cute they are, and I love them! Thank you for the gift." Her smile was wide and reached her espresso eyes.

       As a freckled face woman with sprinkles of gray in her brown hair sat down, Marjorie leaned in. "Vic, meet our pastor, Nina Boone. Nina, this is Vic." Vic stood and stretched his hand out, but Reverend Boone ignored it and nodded in greeting. Sitting back down, Vic looked at Marjorie, who shrugged and mouthed Sorry, embarrassed by the rudeness.

As soon as he sat, Nina began probing him with questions. "What brings you to our tiny village, Mr. Vic, and how long will you be here? I hope you'll stop by our Sunday service."      

"Hmmm, Reverend. Boone, correct? Hope is a great thing. I'm not one for organized religion. And to answer your questions – I am not sure how long I will be in town, and I came here because of the watermelon sign. My first stop was at the fruit stand; I tried the yellow meat and found it better with salt."

 "And he got me the most exquisite glass salt and pepper set for my customers!" Susanna interrupted him. "But Vic, what is the pepper for?"

     He laughed. "I was wondering when you would ask. It is for the cantaloupe. Pepper is the only way to eat musk melon.

"But I don't serve that," she replied.

    "OK." He took a bite of his pasta and wiped his lips.

    "Victor." The reverend cut back in.

    "It's Vic." He smiled at her intense look.

    "What do you mean you are not much for organized religion? Who raised you, for heaven's sake? Didn't you go to church?"

   "Ma'am, it isn't your business who raised me, if I went to church, or if I do or don't go now. I do not require saving, especially during dinner with new friends." He smiled at Marjorie and Susanna, then turned to the pastor, eyebrows bunched together, and his green eyes gleamed in challenge to her.

"Victor, I am a pastor. It is my job to guide people." Vic's eyebrows arched so high Susanna expected them to fly off his face. "I am giving a sermon Sunday titled You and Your Salvation, and you must come."

"Must? As I said, Nina, I'm not much for church." She glared at the use of her first name. "The beauty of the homeowners' gardens in this town is God-like with all the peonies and roses, the wildflowers, and flowering shrubs. Susanna’s watermelon is pure heaven on the palate – with some salt." He laughed and winked at Susanna and Marjorie, both enthralled by him yet shocked at his challenge to their pastor. "The scent of fresh cut hay carried on a breeze is a delight to the senses, and birdsong is nature's choir. Does your church offer better?"

"There’s nothing better than church service on a Sunday and religious guidance."

     “Nina, people also find solace in nature. I have no judgment of you, but it seems you have formed one of me. Marjorie, Susanna - I am quite full after this delectable dinner and think I will go for a walk. Thanks for the company.” 

Vic left. Susanna stared at her plate; her appetite was gone. Marjorie turned to the pastor. “How dare you grill him like that! He is a visitor, and you demanded he come to your church. Shame on you, Nina! Susanna, let’s go.”

 ***

Vic rose early for a walk on his final day in the town. He came to the church, thought a moment, and rearranged the sign's letters to read Welcome Reverend Boone; the reverse side he changed to Your Village. All unused letters he stacked on the concrete ledge. 

Back in his room, Vic looked out the window and saw a delivery van at Susanna's stand, the driver carrying a box of cantaloupe to her. He watched as she tried to refuse the order, but the driver gesticulated wildly and was adamant, so she accepted it. 

    "Hey Susanna!" he called. She looked up at him, and he gave her a thumbs up. "Pepper, remember a sprinkle of pepper. Cut it into pieces shaped like your smile." She grinned at him, understanding.

     He saw seven vehicles parked below his window in front of The Tironga Emporium, all arriving the night before.

Vic left his room keys on the nightstand at Sally’s request and got into his car. Driving past the church out of the town, he grinned at his changes to the sign. Looking to the right, he noticed the barista had eleven autos in the drive-up line. Business is looking up here. Good.

Vic took the nine o'clock street spoke to the left of the church and then pulled over. He glanced at the church sign from this side and saw Marjorie driving past. She called out from her passenger window. "Hey Vic, you're leaving? I hope you come back in Autumn; it is so pretty then. Do you think you will?”

"I hope to, Marjorie. I left my phone number with Sally in case any village events line up that I might like. Take care."

Vic watched as Marjorie did a U-ey back to the main street. She must have followed to say goodbye. When she was out of sight, he sent in his travelogue of the village, with photos of the main road and the picturesque front yard gardens. For The Tironga Emporium, he included a picture of the room he rented and the dining area. The Roasted Beanery Brew photo had his red Avanti at the window, him smiling with the barista in a selfie. He concluded with a picture of the white church but not its sign. 

***

October found Vic back at The Tironga Emporium. Driving into town, he noticed the white church now had a peace totem pole and no sign. Two fiberglass Adirondack chairs in forest green sat on its lawn near the totem. Reverend Boone must have left.

"Hi, Sally! How goes it?"

"Vic, thank you for your wonderful travelogue of our town. I have had non-stop room renters, loose tea admirers, and have replenished my inventory so often I expanded it to my back room."

Susanna was purchasing salt and pepper and hugged him. "Vic, everyone loves my fruit stand. Customers wanted heirloom tomatoes, and I'm growing them in Mom's backyard. People love slices with salt. Watermelon and tomatoes! Cantaloupes were a major hit with the pepper. Now in Fall, I offer ripe apples with a pinch of salt or chunks of cheese. I broke the goal for my college fund, and now Mom doesn't have to kick in. I'm so glad you'll be here for our Fall Festival tomorrow.”