Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement
on his face, glared right back.
    Okay. Everything status quo. Which meant she needed to get everything organized, starting with the bananas.
    “Leroy, Andy, the bananas should be in front. Display as many as possible. We need them out before they start spotting or we’ll be eating banana bread until Christmas.” She caught Michelle’s eye. “I don’t want to ruin your nail job, but how about getting the empty boxes to the recycling dumpster and the cooler organized.”
    Satisfied by the instant response to her instructions, she turned her attention to Uncle Cletus and Walker. With a determined stride, she headed for the back of the store.
    “You have to move those radishes,” she could hear Cletus order Walker. “You know they’re politically incompatible with my eggplant.”
    “Aren’t,” Walker retorted with stubborn persistence.
    Cletus drew himself up, his voice rising. “Radishes belong with green onions and celery and the rest of the Democrats. Eggplants are Republican down to their toenails and never the twain shall meet.”
    “Don’t have toenails.”
    “Don’t argue!”
    Jordan stepped between them, hands on her hips. “Uncle Cletus, Walker. I thought we had an agreement about this sort of thing.” The two men stared at the floor, abashed. “No politics in the store, remember?”
    “Normally I wouldn’t dream of it,” Uncle Cletus claimed self-righteously. He spared a scowl for Walker. “But in this case, there’s no getting around it. Fact is fact, right is right, and eggplant is Republican.”
    “Uncle Cletus . . .”
    He smiled benignly and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her off to one side. “Listen love, you’ve done very well these past few years. Very well, indeed. But you still have one or two things left to learn before the store is yours and I retire to my chicken ranch in New Mexico.”
    Jordan sighed. “Arizona, Uncle Cletus. You want to retire to Arizona.”
    “Exactly. But I can’t do that until I’m positive you comprehend the political and philosophical mindset of produce.”
    “I wasn’t aware food had a mindset,” she murmured.
    He offered her a pitying look. “I’m not surprised. It takes a keen eye to spot it.” He patted her shoulder. “Which is why I’m here to help. Take eggplant, for example. Hates radishes. Downright despises them. You can’t even put the two on the same counter. Disastrous results if you do.”
    Jordan snuck a quick peek at her watch. “Uncle Cletus, I know this is important, but—”
    “Vital. Absolutely vital. Put your eggplant with rutabagas and turnips and it’s an entirely different story. They get on like ants and a picnic.” He paused, his expression reflective. “You might get away with mixing eggplants with peppers on the odd occasion.” He fixed her with a stern gaze. “But never red peppers. Green bells only.”
    “I’ll remember that, Uncle Cletus. Now if we could—”
    “Which brings us back to the issue of radishes.”
    Jordan closed her eyes and stifled a groan. “The radishes?”
    “It’s not a matter to be trifled with. The radishes cannot be put anywhere near the eggplant.”
    She nodded decisively. “When you’re right, you’re right. The political ramifications would be devastating.” She turned and faced her uncle’s helper. “Walker, the radishes go. Put them by the . . .” She glanced at Cletus, her eyebrows raised.
    He gave it a moment’s careful deliberation. “The green onions and celery. That should allow them all to ponder the prevailing economic climate.”
    “See to it,” she ordered briskly, then announced to the room at large, “Five minutes until we open. Let’s get the aisles cleared. Leroy, get this water mopped or we’ll be up to our asparaguses in lawsuits. Michelle, you’re on cash register one. Andy, get those potatoes sorted. Let’s go, people! We’re running late.”
    But then, they were always running late. Just once she’d like to have the
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