Chestnut Falls, 1949
Scotty Stephens sat up straight and cleared his throat as he turned the corner onto Maple Street. The little milk truck trundled along quietly down the little shady street and came to a gentle stop in front of the first house. Scotty sat there for a moment gripping the steering wheel. He had been looking forward to this day for weeks.
The wives of Maple Street were notorious for their hospitality to the delivery men who were fortunate enough to get this route, and when Scotty heard of the availability of the position he jumped at the chance. It was only his second job; at only eighteen years old, Scotty had already been working the counter at Hadley's Burger Palace for two years and he was eager for a change. He knew the good fortune that awaited on the morning route of a milkman in Chestnut Falls and, despite being awkwardly inexperienced, Scotty was determined to get out of the burger shop and onto more satisfying prospects.
Scotty looked into the rearview mirror; he adjusted his bow tie and straightened his cap. He took pride in his new uniform, fresh and brilliantly white. He grabbed his bottle carrier and loaded it with Mrs. Anderson's order: two bottles of milk, one of heavy cream, and, to Scotty's confusion, a single carafe left empty. It was an odd request, an empty milk bottle, but what was doubly confusing was that every house on Maple Street had the same puzzling request. Taking a breath, he stepped out of his truck and onto the sidewalk.
He was a good looking young man, tall, boyish face, brown hair, and he had a solid, muscular build that filled out his new uniform perfectly. He was a delightful young man who always seemed to wear a smile, a smile that back in his high school days made all the young girls melt. But Scotty was oblivious to it. Shy, naive and innocent, Scotty had busied himself so thoroughly with school, his buddies, and the burger palace, that he never gave much of a chance to date girls. He was embarrassed to admit that he had only kissed one girl all throughout his four years at Madison. But all that would soon change, he thought to himself as he walked up the driveway to the Anderson house.
He walked around the house to the backdoor and knocked. He checked his breath as he waited quietly. The door opened and there stood Mrs. Anderson; she was tall, slender and radiantly beautiful. Scotty gulped. To him she looked like Lana Turner with her shiny, blonde hair and her fair, smooth complexion. His voice nearly squeaked as he spoke.
"G-G-Good morning, Mrs. Anderson," he stuttered. "I have your milk delivery for you."
"Well, my word," Mrs. Anderson exclaimed. "If it isn't little Scotty Stephens! When did you become my milkman?"
Scotty smiled. "Just this morning, mam. It's-It's my first day."
Mrs. Anderson beamed. "Well, how do you like that? Look how big you've grown? Why I remember like it was just yesterday I was watching you ride your bicycle down the street with your friends. You boys were forever getting into all sorts of mischief."
Scotty smiled sheepishly and dropped his head. "Yes, mam; but a lot has changed since then."
"I'll say," Mrs. Anderson replied. "Well, do please come inside; bring in my order and I'll get my purse."
Scotty entered into Mrs. Anderson's kitchen. It smelled of cinnamon and cream. Scotty looked over and saw a small pot cooking on the stove. "Smells delicious, Mrs. Anderson."
"Oh, thank you," she replied from the hallway. "I'm just warming up some oatmeal. My husband left for work early this morning and I was so busy with getting my children ready for school, I nearly forgot to eat something myself."
Scotty placed his milk carrier down on the kitchen table. "I have your order here, Mrs. Anderson: two bottles of milk, one bottle of heavy cream, and one bottle left empty. If you don't mind me asking Mrs. Anderson, what do you plan to do with the empty bottle?"
Mrs. Anderson returned to the kitchen. She paused and made a face. "Why, didn't they tell you?"
Scotty was puzzled. "Who didn't tell me?"
"Why, your predecessor. Or your boss? Surely they mentioned it."
Scotty shook his head. "No, mam. No one told me anything."
Mrs. Anderson placed her hands on her hips. "Well how do you like that? You poor boy have no idea."
Scotty stood there quietly. He was completely confused. Why hadn't someone told him? There was no time, he supposed; everyone had been so busy and had been running around trying to find a replacement for the Maple Street route, and he hadn't even thought to ask. All Scotty knew, what he heard about the Maple Street route was that the women he brought deliveries to always paid their milkman in kisses.
Scotty's eyes widened and his ears had perked up the day he overheard Mr. Davis telling this to old man Hadley at the burger counter one afternoon. Mr. Davis had been the previous milkman with the Maple Street route. He had been whispering about his affairs to Hadley but Scotty couldn't hear everything he had said. But he had heard about the kissing. A kiss from each lady. From that moment on, Scotty was determined to get the milkman job when it became available.
"Oh, Scotty, Scotty, Scotty," Mrs. Anderson said, shaking her head. "So young and naive. Tell me, what did you hear about your new job? What did they tell you about being a milkman?"
Scotty gulped. He stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say. He decided there was no point in skirting the truth. "I had heard that I would be rewarded with a kiss from each lady on Maple Street."
"Rewarded?" Mrs. Anderson laughed. "With a kiss? Oh Scotty, you're too much." She walked over to where Scotty was standing.
Scotty licked his lips. "Mrs. Anderson?" he squeaked.
"Yes, Scotty?"
