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help. You can’t help the world, though. I tried. It brings you nothing but sorrow.”
    I thought about the woman who people said made Uncle Saul give up his restaurant. Was he thinking about her?
    Ollie joined us in the kitchen. “The engine looks clean. Should I start her up?”
    â€œGo ahead. Let’s see if the years have been kind to her.”
    We joined Ollie at the front of the Airstream. He got inside and turned the key. The engine sputtered and chugged. It ran for a few minutes and then died.
    â€œSounds good to me!” Ollie stuck his head out of the window and held his thumb up.
    â€œHow’d that sound to you?” I asked my uncle.
    â€œHow long did you say you were staying?” He frowned. “It might take a little more work than I’d planned.”
    â€œI’m not working yet, officially, so however long it takes is fine.” I thought about all the bills I still had to pay without the benefit of a paycheck. “Unless I use up all my money. That wouldn’t be so good. I still have rent due on the apartment the first of the month, and my car payment is due. But otherwise, I’m free and clear.”
    Uncle Saul hugged me. “That’s the spirit! Let’s go into town for some parts.”
    â€œAnd food,” I reminded him. “We’re supposed to be looking for my signature food. I guess the best way to do that is to fool around in the kitchen.”
    â€œYou think I’d let you come here without stocking up?”
    â€œI should’ve guessed. Okay. Let’s go get parts.”
    Crème Brûlée wasn’t happy about going with us after the long trip to get there. I had to be insistent, which meant we had to take my car. Uncle Saul refused to ride in the backseat. He re-installed the cat seat in the back beside Ollie. Crème Brûlée seemed content being where he was. I reconsidered my ideas on him riding in front all the time. He could be a little distracting.
    Uncle Saul carefully put Alabaster in the house where she couldn’t get out.
    â€œSo what kind of biscuits are they making in Mobile these days?” Uncle Saul asked as we drove toward town.
    â€œGood biscuits but they usually go with a meal. I need something different with biscuits. I’ve looked everywhere for ideas. I keep hoping something will jump out at me.”
    â€œWhat about cheese biscuits?” Ollie asked. “Everybody loves a good cheese biscuit.”
    â€œThat’s the problem! Everyone loves them—so everyone makes them. Three of the food trucks in Mobile have cheese biscuits.” I smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “But thanks.”
    We talked about various ways to serve biscuits all the way into Farmville. Ollie suggested making biscuits with jelly and other sweets baked into the dough. Uncle Saul liked the idea of a more savory biscuit such as the ones served with grits and gravy.
    I realized that neither man understood the high level of competition I’d be facing as soon as I got my truck out on the streets.
    The food truck industry had been going strong around Mobile for a year or two. They’d developed specific target foods for their customers such as Charlie’s Tuna Shack, Terry’s Tacky Tacos, and Yolanda’s Yummy Yogurt. It would be business suicide to compete with any of them head-on.
    There were at least ten food trucks that served biscuits as a sideline to their main course. I wanted my biscuits to be the main product. But they had to be special—more than just great biscuits with butter and jelly.
    The parts store in Farmville was busy. Rough-looking men with long beards were going in and out, greeting one another from longtime acquaintance.
    I noticed right away that the place got quiet when we walked in. I thought it was me and Ollie at first. Then the man at the parts counter dropped his smile and greeted Uncle Saul with a frosty attitude.
    â€œHelp you with