Spring Fever

“What was he thinking?” A

“I have no idea,” Mason said with a scowl. “We’re basically only communicating by e-mail these days. But that’s going to change pretty shortly. In fact, a lot of things are fixing to change.”

“You met with Sallie?”

“Yes,” Mason affirmed. “We had a fairly long, frank discussion about a lot of stuff. She’s still not totally convinced the family should keep Quixie, but that’s sort of a moot point at the moment.”

A

*   *   *

A

“My brother and I can’t keep working at cross-purposes,” Mason said. “It’s hurting the company, and it’s hurting the family. We managed to hammer out a short-term agreement this morning.” He took a deep breath and looked directly at A

“I told Davis we have to find a way to get you not to leave the company.” He clamped his hand over hers. “We need you, A

She stared down at their hands and sighed.

“Please?” Mason’s face looked haunted.

A

“I’m all done.” Sophie stood in the kitchen doorway, her tousled blond curls backlit by the sun streaming through the windows. Her pink pocketbook was slung across her chest, bandolier-style. She padded barefoot into the kitchen and carefully placed her bowl on the table where Mason and A

“Whatcha doing?” Sophie asked, glancing down at the intertwined hands on the tabletop.

A

“I’m trying to talk A

“Letha says it’s a damned shame A

Mason choked. “I’m going to have to have a talk with Letha about little pitchers having big ears.”

Sophie cocked her head and regarded A

“I’m not sure,” A

“Like what?”

“For one thing, I don’t have a job anymore,” A

“You can have your old job back,” Mason offered.

“Yay!” Sophie clapped her hands in delight.

“Also, I don’t have anyplace to live. My loft is sold, and I have to move out by the day after tomorrow,” A

“Since when?” Mason asked.

“My real estate agent called right as I was driving into town,” A

“You could come live with us!” Sophie said delightedly. “Right, daddy?”

Mason coughed politely. “I think A

“Letha told Aunt Pokey that Daddy and Celia had a big ole fight, and now Celia is gone for sure, thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus,” Sophie reported, mimicking Letha’s slow southern accent with deadly accuracy. “So now, A

Mason coughed so violently his face turned purple and tears streamed down his face. A

“I am going to have a serious talk with Letha about spreading gossip,” Mason said solemnly. “And for your information, and Aunt Pokey’s and Letha’s, we did not have a big fight. We had an um, discussion. But Celia is not gone.”

“Are you still getting married?” Sophie asked, tilting her head to look at her father.

He looked out the window. “It’s still under discussion,” he said finally. “Anyway, that’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“A

“That’s a very generous invitation, Sophie,” A

“Why?” Sophie looked puzzled. “Don’t you like us?”

“I like you a lot,” A

Sophie yawned widely and leaned her head back against Mason’s chest.

“Time for you to go take a nap,” he told her, gently sliding her down from his lap.

Sophie threw her arms around A

“Hmm,” A

“Okay,” Sophie said, trying to suppress another yawn.

Mason waited until Sophie had gone to find Letha before returning his attention to A

“Will you at least agree to come back to work at Quixie?” Mason asked. “I’m dead serious, A

He gave her that slow, wi

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I really don’t want to get between you and your brother. Or Celia. I’ve complicated things enough already.”

Tell her, damn it. You’re only making things worse by talking her into staying.

“You’re not what’s between us,” Mason said. “Davis and I have been having issues for a long time now. And Mama, she’s got her own agenda. But I do want to talk to you about this new marketing scheme; I don’t like it.”

A

“You know,” she said finally. “Yesterday, I was cleaning out my office and taking some old file boxes that had been in there for years and years out to the Dumpster. One of the boxes was so old it fell to pieces as I was unloading it. Inside it I found all the old magazine and newspaper mechanicals and tear sheets for Quixie ads from the ’40s and ’50s. They were so charming, so right, so Quixie, for want of a better phrase. For me, they just really captured the essence of what we’re selling—fun, refreshment, and yeah, the idea of celebrating the moment. I honestly think that’s what we’ve forgotten with all these slick, sophisticated campaigns we’ve bought into in the past few years.”

Mason nodded thoughtfully. “I remember those old ads. There was one, from the sixties, probably, showing teenaged girls in a speedboat…”

“I saw that one,” A

“Mama and my aunt Lu posed for that ad,” Mason said. “They took the photo that the illustration was based on, out on the lake, back in the day. Dad had it framed and hanging in the basement playroom for years and years, when we were growing up.”

“Those are the ads that everybody remembers,” A

“My granddaddy always said he just wanted us to be the best independent regional soft drink company in the business,” Mason said. “He never touched coffee, but he drank a bottle of Quixie from his own special Quixie icebox just about every morning of his life, as soon as his feet touched the bedroom floor. As far as he was concerned, our product was unique, and he really believed every bottle of Quixie that left the plant was the thing that would sell the next one.”