Chapter Three: Chili Today, Hot Tamale

Jul 16

On her second day at the ballpark, Maddie took a few minutes to savor the spring morning from the home dugout. She sat down, leaned against the concrete block wall, and surveyed the mist rising from the mountains. “Groundhogs making coffee,” the locals called it. She liked that. The air smelled like pine and that slightly sour tang of mountain fog. Birdsong mingled with the sound of lawn mowers and sprinklers. It was an idyllic setting for a baseball diamond. But she couldn’t sit here all day. Maddie pushed off the bench and sprinted onto the grass. The symmetry of the field always delighted her. She even loved the ads on the outfield walls. You could tell so much about a town by those ads.

Yoakam’s Hot and Sweet Pickles Stadium had billboards for a local grocery and a dental practice with a bad pun on Sweetgum. But most of the spaces screamed “AVAILABLE,” which Maddie needed to address very soon. With a big inhale of that fresh grass smell, she headed to her so-called office in a musty, out building behind the third base line. The door was unlocked but that didn’t worry her. There wasn’t anything to steal from her dank little dungeon. She entered the tiny room and was amazed to find someone waiting for her—a young, lanky blonde with a perfect bob, wearing a floral-print Lily Pulitzer dress. The girl was scrolling through her phone but looked up when Maddie entered the room.

“Tillie Pinkney, reporting for duty.” The blonde shook Maddie’s hand with scary firmness.

“Oookkkaayy.” Maddie released the girl’s hand and resisted the impulse to say ow. “What sort of duty?”

“PR internship. Didn’t Rory tell you? If he didn’t mention it, it’s probably because he was too busy deciding which Louis Vuitton bag to take on his next trip to Turks and Caicos.”

Tillie rolled her eyes. They were almost the same bright blue as the pattern on her dress. Her make-up was flawless, obviously expensive, and she didn’t appear to be affected like normal people by the humidity. No wrinkles, rumples, or perspiration. How did she manage it? And why would Miss Teen Vogue want an unpaid internship in Sweetgum? She oozed affluence, assertiveness, and attitude. If she had been hired by Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, Maddie thought she’d take over as editor of Runway magazine within a week.

“Sorry, but … are you sure you’re in the right place?” Maddie asked. “Are you really my intern? And did Rory tell you—excuse me for being crass—that we have no money, for anything?”

Tillie nodded curtly. “That’s what I signed up for.”

“Woooweeee!” Maddie shouted before she could censor herself. She wanted to hug Tillie, spin her around the room, and weep. “Wonderful to meet you. Welcome! Hi! I’m Maddie. Or did you know that already? This is awesome! You have no idea. You just made my day, my month, my year! What do you need to get started? I’m Maddie. Yeah, I said that. Sorry, but I’m a little flustered. I wasn’t expecting this. The thing is, I’m so, so, so happy and… How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Tillie pulled back looking appalled.

“Your hair. It looks so silky smooth, and the humidity must be like 99 percent today. I’ve never understood how people do that. I’d love to know the answer.”

Tillie shrugged. “I swear by R + Co products. ‘Mood Swing’ straightener on damp hair. ‘Bel Air’ smoothing shampoo and antioxidant complex is a good foundation. Finish it off with ‘Two Way Mirror’ smoothing oil. Sometimes a dab of ‘Teleport Flex Control’ hydra gel.” She squinted at Maddie’s short waves, frizzing and curling every which way in the heat. “You might try a little B and B grooming crème and thermal shield if you want a sleeker look.”

Maddie wasn’t sure if these were real styling product names or Star Trek episode titles, but she said, “B and B? I’m guessing that doesn’t mean bed and breakfast.”

“Bumble and Bumble. It could change your life.”

Maddie rooted through her shoulder bag and pulled out a pen but couldn’t find any paper, so she drew a bumble bee on her palm. “Wow, that’s a lot of knowledge about hair products. Impressive. Maybe we could have you diagnose hair issues at a game and get a bunch of those little free samples to hand out. We could call it ‘Hair Night’ and you could be the ‘Hair Doctor’. That could be a thing, right?”

Tillie didn’t answer. Her perfectly plucked brow puckered as if she were trying to solve a challenging physics problem and Maddie was it.

“Anyway…” Maddie pressed on. “I can’t wait to find out all the things you’re interested in so we can figure out which projects to give you. Let’s sit down for a chat. Pull up a chair.”

But when Maddie sat at her desk—or rather her rickety card table with a green and white checked lawn chair behind it—she took up three quarters of her office. Tillie made a sincere effort to unfold a nearby plastic folding chair, but there wasn’t room for her long legs and the chair and Maddie and Maddie’s desk.

“Is your real office getting painted or something?” Tillie asked. “And that’s why they put you in a storage closet temporarily?”

“Hey, I had to fight for this storage closet. Believe me, this is a step up from the TV stand by the men’s bathroom where they stashed me yesterday morning.” Maddie flashed a big grin, hoping for a jovial response from her improbable intern. It didn’t happen, and Maddie was starting to feel embarrassed and pissed at Rory for not warning her about Tillie’s arrival. She could have planned a much better reception. As it was, she suspected that Tillie might flee in terror before lunch. She had to find a way to keep that from happening. Tillie was a potential gold mine, and Maddie could be an excellent mentor. She just needed a chance.

So far, Tillie had not shown any signs of amusement or anything like a sense of humor. Maddie decided to try a different approach. She would find out some background information. Get more of a handle on where Tillie might be coming from. “So, where do you go to college? What’s your major?”

“I’m Pre-Law. At Kingsley.” Tillie didn’t sound particularly thrilled to name one of the most elite schools in North Carolina, in the country, for that matter. Maddie cringed inwardly. She didn’t care for the Blue Demons and what she perceived as their brand of arrogance, wealth, privilege, and whiny narcissism. She wondered if Tillie liked it and prodded a little more.

“Holy cow, Kinglsey! That must be … Something.” It was the best she could do without lying through her teeth, which she was terrible at, and Tillie was certainly sharp enough to pick up on that. “And here you are in Sweetgum with the Sliding Salamanders. So… You must really love baseball?”

Tille scoffed. “Not really. No.”

Maddie fought the defensive twinge that flared up in her gut. She wanted to keep an open mind about her new intern. “Well, there are certain things that could be better in the game—”

“Like the fact that it’s incredibly boring and yet takes so long?”

Maddie bristled. The most predictable criticisms of baseball. She gritted her teeth and gave her standard comeback. “The more you learn about the strategy beneath the game, the more interesting it is. And the pitch clock has made the games go faster.”

Tillie affected a classic Southern “bless your heart” expression—like Maddie had just uttered the most pitiful thing anyone had ever said.

“Why are you here then?” Maddie snapped. Her morning was slipping away along with her patience. Sure, it would be a huge boon to have an intern, but she didn’t need any more obstacles, and she didn’t want to be supervising “Town and Country Snotty Barbie” all summer.

“Let’s not waste each other’s time,” Maddie continued. “I have too much to do and if baseball is beneath you, well maybe your contacts at Kingsley can find something more to your liking.” Maddie paused before she said something she’d regret. She needed to remain civil and avoid insulting Rory’s troubled niece or whoever Tille was—or making any mistake that would get her fired. If that happened, maybe Tillie would get her job. That would serve Rory right. A promotions director who hates baseball. It would probably suit Monty Ortzelbean and his ongoing agenda of baseball woe. Wait, was that the master plan? No, Maddie wouldn’t let it happen.

“I do not need Kingsley, thank you very much!” Tillie over articulated. “It—It wasn’t exactly my choice, but now I’m stuck. And that’s why I’m here if you want the truth. I want to do the opposite of what everyone expects of me. I want to be in the least expected place with the least number of advantages and be the last person on the lowest totem pole with the fewest luxuries. And excuse me, but just because I have shiny hair doesn’t mean I’m some spoiled blueblood. I can do the work. Frankly, I’m an ace at PR already. I’ll send you links to all my socials, and you can judge for yourself.”

The answer took Maddie by surprise. She took a minute to consider Tillie’s words. What everyone expects of her. Who was everyone? Her family? Probably, but Maddie didn’t ask. If Tillie was a whiz on social media that could make a big difference. The Sliding Salamanders online accounts had fewer followers than her grandmother’s book club back in Highland Park, Illinois. She had been making assumptions about Tillie based on her looks and her choice of college. That was wrong and she would do better. She put her elbows on her wobbly desk and leaned on her hands to meet Tillie’s very serious gaze.

“Well, Ms. Pinkney, you did it.”

“What?” Tillie tucked one side of her bob behind her ear, and her eyes darted away from Maddie.

“Found the total opposite of Kingsley. Congrats! Oh, and I do have a lot to teach you about PR, don’t worry about that. You’ll work your butt off for me, but it’ll be fun, mostly, I promise. And by the end of the season, you are gonna like, no love, baseball.”

Tillie made a disgusted face. “No way. That’s insane,”

“It isn’t. You’ll see. But you know what is? This office! We’re going to use up all the oxygen and suffocate if we stay here together.”

For the first time Tillie cracked a smile. “Oh my God yes! It’s rank! I mean, I was going for ‘rank’ from this job, but this is ridiculous! What can we do?”

A sudden, brilliant inspiration came to mind. It had been percolating for a couple days, but now it was fully perked, and Maddie felt a shudder of excitement. “We can set up our own office. In town. Not always, but sometimes. It could serve a lot of different purposes. And you want some more good news?”

Tillie frowned. “Was there some other good news that I missed before?”

“Yes, the first good news is—I know you’ll be an amazing intern, and I’m beyond thrilled that you came to Sweetgum. And next—our new office space has the best Coca-Cola chocolate layer cake you’ve ever tasted!”

***

The Grand Lunch Café had a sign on the door that read Today’s weather report: Chili today, hot tamale! It was Maddie’s kind of place. An old-fashioned, small-town diner with a serpentine counter, vinyl-covered swivel stools, cozy booths, and a rotating display case featuring slices of homemade pies with mile-high meringue and at least one decadent layer cake covered in swoopy buttercream frosting. A chalk board by the cash register listed the specials along with a Joke of the Day. Today’s joke asked, “What do you say to a llama that loves picnicking?” Answer: “Alpaca lunch.” Maddie laughed and Tillie rolled her eyes.

Maddie picked the best booth by the big picture window that looked out onto State Street. She could imagine it at Christmas, decorated with spray-can snow and hand-painted reindeer. She settled on the side of the booth that gave her the best view of everyone entering the café. Tillie sat opposite her, and Maddie noticed she created something of a stir among the mostly male population seated at the counter. Tillie barely noticed, and Maddie admired her ability to command attention and not care.

“This is our new satellite office,” Maddie stated after she had ordered and received the crab cake platter and a sweet iced tea. “It’s the ideal place to meet everyone in town. Ask for suggestions. Talk about our events. We can network with the whole community.”

“That should take about twenty minutes.” Tillie nibbled a tiny piece of melon from her fruit salad. “But at least the cantaloupe is ripe, and it tastes like something.”

Maddie didn’t acknowledge Tillie’s barb and took a big slurp of the tea. God, it was good! She dipped her spoon in the drink and indulged in a crunchy bite of chipped ice. The crab cakes melted in her mouth, and the homemade aioli was to die for.

“The food here is unbelievable!” said Maddie between hearty bites. “Grand Lunch should have an outfield ad at the ballpark. Maybe that’s something you could work on? Ever done any sales? I’ll bet you’d crush it!”

A corner of Tillie’s mouth turned up, and Maddie detected the faintest flush on her creamy complexion. I’ll bet she comes from a super critical, competitive family, Maddie thought. She was a big believer in praise and loved giving it. People deserved to know what they did well or what they might do well in the future. She’d never be insincere, of course. Tillie would recognize that in a heartbeat.

“We have so much to do. But our first job is to increase ticket revenue,” Maddie said. “I couldn’t find Rory this morning. I’m trying to find out what the average attendance has been for the past five years.”

“I’ll find out,” Tillie said.

“Thank you, but that’s not your responsibility. Rory should be—”

“Yeah, Rory was busy organizing a golf scramble for his Kingsley fraternity bros.”

Maddie couldn’t tell if her intern was kidding or not. She decided to let it go. She pulled a yellow legal pad out of her satchel and opened a fresh Sharpie fine line marker. Mmmm, that fresh ink smell, with a clean pad of paper in front of her! This is what she lived for.

“Let’s talk about next week. Tuesday is our home opener. And I’m adding ‘Bring Your Dog to the Ballpark Day’. That’s easy and fun. Thursday we’re starting a rotation of local food trucks outside the park and hosting a food drive. Friday is our first annual Fan Dance Contest sponsored by the Sip N Suds Wash-a-rama and Danceteria. And Saturday—get this—a performance by the Sweetgum Lawn Chair Drill Team. They’re supposed to be fantastic, and it was a real coup to get them. Usually they just perform whenever the mood strikes them. I know it’s a slow start, but I have big plans after—”

“Didn’t you just get here yesterday?” asked Tillie. “Rory said all the promotions were cancelled, and the sponsors bailed when the last guy quit. And you already have all those events lined up?”

“Not a big deal. A few hours on the phone. I can do better, believe me.”

Just then Carlton Wilde walked in. Maddie wanted to slide under the table and hide. She still felt embarrassed about her bad interview, and she couldn’t get used to seeing him again. He had been a memory and a fantasy for so long. Now it was dawning on her that living in a small town, she was bound to run into him all the time. She didn’t know if she could handle it.

He wore a short-sleeved uniform shirt for… Maddie strained to read the embroidery. Wilde Hardware and Lumber. So, he worked for his family’s hardware store, at least part time.She couldn’t deny finding that attractive. Hardware stores were better than art supply stores or just as good. She dearly loved construction projects, and she’d be doing a lot of them for her job this season. She might be spending quite a bit of time at Wilde Hardware. For the first time she wondered if Carlton had a girlfriend. Come on, he had to have someone! No one with those arms should be sleeping alone every night. But the thought of him with a girlfriend had a disturbing effect on her circulation.

“Are you OK?” Tillie asked. “You’re not having a stroke or anything are you? You’re starting to match the beet salad.”

Maddie fiddled with her bandana. She untied it from her wrist and put it on like a scarf to keep her damp hair out of her face and encourage general coolness. “Oh no. I’m good. I’m fine.”

“Hello again.” Carlton stopped right beside Maddie. She tilted her head back and met those intelligent, gray-green eyes. It reminded her of a book she loved as a kid. The Paint Box Sea. A poetic picture book about the changing colors of the ocean. He had paint box-sea eyes.

“Well, HI!” Maddie said too brightly and much too loud.

Tille cast a perplexed glance in her direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Maddie groaned inside. What a stupid thing to say! And bonus points, she also felt like an idiot in front of her new and intimidating intern.

Carlton wouldn’t release her gaze. It was very disconcerting. “I’m picking up some lunch for the guys at the shop. Ready yet, Edna?” he called to the wiry, copper-haired woman behind the counter who seemed to be doing everything for everyone in the café at the same time.

“Just a few more minutes, honey!” Edna waved.

Carlton turned back to Maddie. “Mind if I join you?”

NO! YES! NO! Mind if I take off your shirt, leap on top of you, and start making out like a hormone-crazed teen? Maddie was disgusted with her brain. It was usually so much better at controlling unwieldy emotions. What was wrong with her anyway? She should be furious with him after he let her get torn to shreds by Vinny and Herb on his show.

“Sure.” Maddie scooted over, but the vinyl upholstery stuck to her legs and made an unattractive sound.

“Thanks.” Carlton slid beside her, and she could feel her pulse almost punching a hole in her throat.

“Carlton Wilde, meet Tillie Pinkey. My intern. From Kingsley. She’s Pre-Law.” Maddie was ashamed of herself for playing the Kingsley card. But it did sound good. “Tillie—Carlton is the host of the Manders Matter podcast. It’s popular with our fanbase, so he’s someone you should know. Even though he hates us.”

“It’s not hate. It’s love,” Carlton said. “Tough love. I want the best for this team and currently, we have the worst. Present company excluded.” He smiled. Beautifully, of course.

Maddie’s stomach turned to lava. This was not going to work. She was supposed to be a rational adult and a role model for Tillie. These silly, adolescent reactions could not continue. She tried to cross her legs under the table and grazed Carlton’s leg by mistake. That did not help anything. At all.

Carlton kept on talking like he wasn’t picking up on Maddie’s physical contortions. “Maddie was just on the show,” he told Tillie. “Our best rated episode so far this year. The number of downloads, likes, and replays has been off the charts.”

Oh wonderful! thought Maddie. Her awful performance was now cemented in the minds of thousands of podcast listeners and fans. She was their punching bag. Laugh line. Living proof that the Salamanders sucked and would always suck.

“Yeah, thanks. I appreciate your support. You sure gave me plenty of rope to hang myself with.” The sentence came out sharper than Maddie intended, but she wasn’t sorry.

“My job is to get honest answers.”

“That’s fair. I guess.” Maddie wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Anyway, I’m glad we ran into you. Since I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“You have?” Carlton leaned forward and Maddie moved back. “Because so have I.”

Maddie thought her heart actually stopped for a few seconds, but she ignored it. “Yes, I want to come back on the show as soon as possible. I have a big announcement to make about this season, and I’m giving you the scoop. Tillie should come, too. She’s a star on Instagram, and she’ll be taking over the Salamanders’ account.”

“I am?” said Tillie and Maddie shot her a look. “Oh, I mean, yes, I am. We were just talking about that.”

Carlton laughed. “Thank God! Because right now it appears to be run by people who don’t know how to use a phone or speak a language.”

“Very funny,” said Maddie. “So that’s why you were going to call me? You want me on your show to have more laughs at my expense?”

“That’s not the reason. We have other things to talk about, but this isn’t the time. And yes, absolutely, I want you back. You answer questions like a real person, not a Monty Ortzelbean ‘bot. Not that he’s tech savvy enough to use robots. I think he just hires zombies who’ll do his bidding. Look at the number of managers he’s hired who fall asleep during games. Are they even alive? Sometimes I can’t tell.”

Maddie tried not to dwell on the other things they had to talk about. Too distracting. But Carlton’s jibes reminded her that she wanted to find a way around one of Monty’s cutbacks, and Carlton might have the right expertise. “You know,” she twisted in her seat and faced him at close range. She’d have to get used to doing this, and there was no time like the present. “There’s something I’d like to ask your help with. Not as a member of the press, but as Wilde Hardware?”

“Anything. For you.”

Oh, if only that were true, thought Maddie.

“I had an idea to make up for the loss of Dollar Dog night.”

“No Dollar Dogs?” Tillie squealed. “That’s the only thing I like! Hot dogs at the ballpark are the best! Why can’t we have them on sale?”

“Monty Ortzelbean is a cheap bastard who hates the fans,” Carlton shot back. “Once you embrace that simple fact, everything becomes clear.”

“A Hot Dog Cannon!” Maddie announced. “Can you build one?”

Carlton leaned back and crossed his arms. “You’re asking me if I can… Um… engineer a projectile wiener device?”

Maddie’s neck and chest felt warm again. “Yeah. One that shoots really far because I hate it when only the fans in the more expensive seats get the free stuff shot out of a cannon.”

“Sure, I think I can manage that.” Carlton leaned forward again, rubbed his jaw, and cast another intent look at Maddie.

Tillie smirked and pulled out her phone. “Can I record this conversation and post it on our socials? Can you two start over? I guarantee this could get some traffic.”

“No! Not yet!” Maddie blocked Tillie's phone with her hand. “But look, we’ve been firing free T-shirts at fans forever, right? So, I figure I can spring for a couple packages of hot dogs, and we can cook ‘em and launch ‘em into the crowd so at least some people get a free hot dog every week. Call it something like…”

“Flying Hot Dog Fridays!” Tillie shouted, typing madly on her phone.

Maddie pointed at Tillie, beaming. “Yes! YES! See? I knew you were gonna be great. That’s freaking brilliant, and you haven’t even been here a full day yet.”

Carlton was smiling, too. “Not bad. I like the idea of throwing free hot dogs in old man Ortzelbean’s face.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but thank you!” said Maddie. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to say this. If you build it, they will come!”

She and Carlton enjoyed the joke and got a little giggly. For a few seconds Maddie was transported right back to Wrigley Field on the day they met. She remembered how easy it was to relax and have fun with him. He laid his hand on top of hers very briefly and then pulled it away and tucked it back under his other arm resting on the table.

“I don’t get it,” Tillie said. “Build what? Who will come?”

“It’s a line from Field of Dreams,” Maddie explained. “About a farmer in Iowa who builds a baseball field in his cornfield and famous dead players come to play ball again.”

“It’s a horror film?”

“No, Tillie. Never mind. I’ll show it to you one day when we have a rain out.”

“Can you come by the store tomorrow afternoon?” Carlton asked. “I’ll work on some plans, and we can do a test run of the—”

“Hot Dog Cannon!” Maddie finished. “With lots of fire power. Don’t forget.”

“How could I? You got it. See you tomorrow.”

“Carlton! Your order’s ready,” shouted Edna. He slid out of the booth and headed out the door with several large Grand Lunch bags.

Tillie stared at Maddie. “Holy—What was that? I know you’re my boss and all, but you have to tell me. What’s going on between you and Carlton Wilde?”

“Nothing! We don’t have—”

“Yeah, you do. You really, really do. Every time either of you said ‘Hot Dog Cannon’ it sounded like… well, like something was definitely going on! And he said he wanted to call you. That you had other things to talk about. Anyone could tell what he meant. If you want help with your hair, I’m happy to do that any time. Or your makeup and clothes. I’m good at that, too.”

“Stop!” Maddie refilled her glass with sweet tea and attempted to redirect the conversation. “I can dress myself. And pardon me, but you’re the one who needs to change clothes. Lilly Pulitzer for a ballpark full of sticky old seats with bird poop everywhere? What were you thinking? Stop looking at me like that! I hardly know him.”

“Uh huh.” Tillie downed the last of her ice water like it was a shot of bourbon and slammed the glass down. “This job is so much better than working at my dad’s Fascist think tank or interning for the White House press office. They recruited me heavily, but ICK! As if! Can I come with you to the hardware store? I want to get you and Carlton on social media right away.”

“Shut up. No! We have work to do. SO, SO much work”

Tillie relented. “OK. What’s your big announcement for the podcast?’

Maddie breathed a sigh of relief. At last, she could think about her job again. And her big plan. Something that could actually turn things around. She turned her attention back to the blank legal pad. No more thinking of Carlton and his Hot Dog Cannon.

“Edna?” Maddie called out. “Could we please get a whole pitcher of your fabulous, sweet tea and an order of hushpuppies? We’re gonna be here for a while.

Exterior of Grand Lunch Cafe on the Main Street of the fictional town of Sweetgum

RELATED ART

The Grand Lunch Cafe in Sweetgum is inspired by a classic diner with the same name in Keokuk, Iowa. (Art: AI-generated image, Rob Mitchell)

CASTING CALL: THE ACTORS IN OUR IDEAL WILDE PITCH CAST

GRAND LUNCH JUKEBOX

Of course, the Grand Lunch has a vintage jukebox that provides a summer-long soundtrack for Wilde Pitch. Here are some of the songs we imagine playing in the background of Chapter Three: