Free Betty's (Little Basement) Garden by Laurel Dewey

make her up a good, healing juice, and you can take it to her. It’s on me, of course.”
    What a curious man, Betty thought. He didn’t really know her, and he certainly had no connection to Peggy, but he seemed to genuinely want to help. “That’s quite kind of you, but she can’t hold anything down. I brought her some of my chocolates, but I’m sure the family and her nurse will end up eating them.”
    â€œYou make your own chocolates?”
    â€œYes,” Betty said with a bright tone. “With honey. You’d approve of that, I’m sure.”
    â€œWhy does it matter if I approve of it or not?”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œIf that’s the way you want to make them, that’s your business.”
    â€œWell, I just…I mean…” Betty floundered and tried to regain her composure. “You own a health food store. So, I just figured… health … honey –”
    â€œI think it’s too soon for you to call me ‘honey,’” he deadpanned. “Let’s stick with Jeff for now.”
    Betty regarded him with stunned silence. She gauged he was at least seven years her junior and clearly not someone she’d be remotely linked to on a social level, let alone romantic basis. “You misunderstood. I didn’t mean –”
    â€œI’m joking, Betty.”
    Betty let out a breath. “Oh, right. Yes. Of course you are.”
    â€œDodged a bullet there, didn’t we?” Jeff grinned just like a fourteen-year-old who knew how to charm and get away with mischief. He eyed her closer. “Damn, you’re wound pretty tight.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    He pointed to the right side of her face. “Your clenched jaw. Lots of tension going on there.”
    She wasn’t comfortable having a near-stranger be this bold with her. “Yes, well, my friend, Judi, told me about some sort of salve you have that’s good for –”
    â€œMama’s Muscle Mojo,” he said without a missing a beat. Turning, he moved about five feet down the aisle and snagged a jar from the shelf. “Made locally by this cute little gal who grows all the herbs organically in her garden.” He handed the jar to Betty. “It’s not going to cure that tension, but it’ll sure relieve it.”
    She tried to discreetly check the price on the bottom of the jar. “Well, thank you.”
    â€œI’ve got a few one ounce giveaways in the back if you want to sample it before committing.”
    â€œI don’t need any giveaways,” she quickly replied with pride.
    His blue eyes pierced through her. “Okay.”
    The tension began to creep around her neck. A stiff bourbon would help, but it was nowhere near five-thirty. She worked her two fingers down the muscle spasm in an attempt to halt its forward progress.
    â€œIf you don’t mind me asking,” Jeff said, leaning against the shelf, “who’s the pain in your neck?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œYeah. Most problems start with our emotions or in our mind. Someone can break your heart, somebody else can give you a headache, another can be a pain in the ass and then there’s the one who’s the pain in your neck. So, who’s the pain in your neck?”
    Betty wanted to dismiss him but she couldn’t. He was so relaxed when he mentioned it all. No judgment; just a matter-of-fact comment that had depth and merit. “I’m not sure. I think it’s more likely the four ‘D’s.’”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œTake a look around. It’s everywhere. Disappointment, despair, disharmony…death.”
    â€œReally? Maybe you’ve got to start hanging out in better places.”
    â€œOh, please. Look what’s happening in this world! How can you possibly be blind to all that?”
    â€œI’m not blind to it. I know it’s out there. But if that’s