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      “I need a lemon.”
Peach paused for a brief moment to take in this totally unexpected and baffling statement by his brother. As he went back to fitting the little key into the cash register drawer he was currently working on he said, “Gosh, I’m so glad you told me. That’s crucial info at a time like this.”
     Tinman ignored the smart-ass comment and said, “The beans have been soaking since yesterday. I have to cook them tonight.”
     The cash register drawer slid open, and Tinman scooped up the paper money from each slot and stuffed it into a small canvas sack. By the time he finished, Peach was already one aisle over, working on the next-to-last cash register. Tinman muttered to himself as he slid in next to him.
     “My recipe calls for a lemon. It’s not the same without it. It’s like leaving out the serrano pepper.”
     “What a nightmare,” said Peach, trying hard to keep down a laugh. He knew how seriously his brother took his cooking, but he found it funny he should pick such a time to discuss it. He finished the lock he was working on and dashed to the last cash register.
     Tinman shook his head as he collected bills. “You don’t understand. To make a good ham and bean soup, you have to have the exact ingredients, or it’s too bland. I don’t like bland bean soup.”
     “Understandable,” said Peach, popping open the last drawer. “Who does?”
     The explosion was so loud it felt like the floor shook. Peach looked to Tinman and they knew their time was limited. They were inside a twenty-four hour grocery store that Tinman had cased and found a hole in the security.
     He befriended one of the employees and found that every Fourth of July, by tradition, the night manager let the entire staff go out on the loading dock to watch the fireworks display. The front door was temporarily locked, but that did little to stop Peach.
     Tinman had also found the brand of cash registers, which were of an older variety and still required a little key to open the drawer. Fortunately, Peach owned a collection of such keys and among them had found the correct one. The store was located in a lower-income area of the city where many of the residents still relied on the almighty dollar. The brothers didn’t expect a big haul, but since it was all unmarked cash, they figured it was worth the effort.
     They knew the loud boom they just heard signaled the beginning of the fireworks finale. In a few short minutes, they needed to be out the door and on their merry way.
     Still, as Tinman sidled up to Peach and grabbed the last of the cash, he said, “This is serious. I really need that lemon.”
     “So you’ll get one tomorrow and cook it then!” said Peach through his ski mask.
     “No can do,” said Tinman, shaking his head. “The beans will turn to mush when I cook them, and then the whole thing is ruined.”
     “Then we’ll stop on the way home and get one!”
     “This is the only twenty-four-hour grocery store around. We’d have to go all the way down South Virginia to WinCo.”
     “Then that’s what we’ll do!”
     Another boom. A screeching whistle culminated in a giant eruption. Peach looked into Tinman’s eyes and silently pleaded with him to drop the damn lemon thing. Tinman stared back, unmoved, as stubborn a chef as ever there was.
     “And it really makes that big a difference?” asked Peach desperately
     “Delectable or disgusting, yummy or icky, blessed or blah—”
     “Alright already! Go get the damn lemon!”
     Tinman grinned behind his ski mask. He took off in a jog, weaving through the store on his way to the produce section. As he went, Peach made a mental note not to heist any more grocery stores. The temptation was too great for his brother.
     The fireworks finale was in full swing now, with explosions piling on top of each other. He looked around, wondering if there was anything else to steal. Given the time restraints, they had only intended on hitting the registers, but now, with nothing else to do, he figured he might as well poke around. From his estimation, they’d only netted around two thousand so far, and it would be nice if that total could be beefed up.
     He spotted a door behind the customer service counter and made a beeline for it. It was unlocked. From the looks of it, it had to be the manager’s office. In the corner of the small room, he spied an area rug that seemed out of place. He stepped over and tossed it aside. Underneath was the round door of an in-floor safe.
     He’d seen the model before and knew he hadn’t brought the right tools to open it, even if he’d had time. But maybe, just maybe. Often managers are too lazy to properly secure safes when they’re being used often. Instead of fully spinning the combination dial after closing the safe, they will move the dial a few clicks to the left or right so when they want to open it again they don’t have to dial in the whole combination.
     Peach stooped and placed a hand on the lever. With his other hand, he slowly moved the dial counterclockwise a click at a time while keeping steady pressure on the handle. Going backwards on the dial he reached the number twelve and the lever swung to the left and he pulled the door open. Inside was a bank deposit bag. He grinned and reached for it.
     Tinman was halfway back to the front of the store, lemon in one hand, canvas sack in the other, when he noticed the booming had stopped. He picked up his speed, careened around the frozen food section, and bolted to the front door. No Peach. Had he taken off without him?
     Without being sure, he was reluctant to leave. There may be no honor among thieves, but there sure as hell was between brothers. He turned in a circle, frantically searching. Then he saw him trotting out from behind the customer service counter.
     “We’ve got no time to be messing around!” cried Tinman.
     “Who’s the one messing around for chrissakes? I’m trying to make this thing profitable, and you’re dicking around in the citrus section!”
     They were nose to nose and snorting. Tinman gave first. “What did you find?”
     Peach held up the stuffed bank deposit bag, and Tinman’s eyes glinted. Peach smiled, “Did you get a nice one?”
     Tinman held up the lemon. “Perfect. Not too hard, not too soft. And plump. This way, you get the sweetness with the most juice. Feel it.”
     Peach gave the lemon a little squeeze and nodded sagely. “That’s one fine lemon, brother. You’ve got a knack. Maybe on the way home, you’ll tell me how you go about making this special soup du jour.”
     “That’s French,” said Tinman, impressed.
     “Don’t look so surprised,” said Peach. “I hang around you long enough, and a little culture’s bound to rub off.”
     In the back of the store, the sounds of happy employees returning to their dumb jobs snapped Tinman and Peach to attention. Crouching, they pulled off their ski masks and slipped out the front door.
     A couple hours later, the beans and ham were boiling away in a twelve-quart soup pot. Bean soup was a time-consuming process so when he made it he made a vat of it and froze most. A happy freezer is one that’s filled with leftovers, was his firm belief.
     Both he and Peach had showered and changed clothes. Tinman was at the stove preparing the next phase while Peach was smoothing out the worn bills and stacking the money in neat piles to be tallied.
     “So what’s next?” asked Peach.
     “I’m getting the ham bones out of here. You have to be careful. These suckers get hot.”
     “Why not let everything cool down?”
     Tinman looked at him like a parent to a child who asked why they had to wipe after going number two. “If I let it cool down just to get the bones out, I’d stop the entire cooking process and would have to heat the whole thing again.”
     “You mean it’s not finished?”
     Tinman sighed and continued what he was doing. It’s tough explaining culinary magic to the uninitiated. He finished adding the remaining ingredients, ending with his precious lemon. He sliced it in half, squeezed the juice into a small bowl and fished out the seeds. After stirring his soup a little to combine everything, he added the lemon juice.
     Satisfied, he rinsed his hands and sat next to Peach at the little card table. His small apartment was starting to fill with a rich, earthy aroma, and Tinman’s keen nose sensed the soup was on the right track.         “So, how does the take look?”
     “Let you know in a little bit. Still trying to straighten this stuff out. Amazing how people abuse their money,” said Peach. “How much longer until dinner?”
     “Half an hour,” said Tinman. “Pretty soon now, the acid from the tomatoes is going to start to react with the beans, and you’ll see lots of bubbles on top, and the whole soup will turn orange.”
     “Good deal. I’m starving. Something about heisting a grocery store got my stomach rumbling.”
     Thirty minutes later, as predicted, the soup was happily burbling and gurgling away like some witch’s brew in a cauldron. Tinman scooped out two bowls and placed them on the card table.
     “Okay,” said Peach, slapping a tall stack of mixed bills on the table. “This is $2315.” He grabbed his spoon and noisily slurped his soup for quite a while.
     Tinman grinned as he watched the deliciousness spread primal joy through his brother’s body and soul. He wasn’t thrilled with the night’s take, but burglars can’t be choosers. He grunted and said, “That’s not so bad.”
     “Not so bad! It’s wonderful!” blurted Peach. “And it’s all because of that lemon.”
     “Hah! I told you so! Just that little bit of citrus infuses the otherwise bland bean mix and gives it that zing. And you didn’t believe me!”
     “Huh?” Peach grunted. “Yeah, well, whatever you say. But what I’m talking about is that if you hadn’t insisted on getting that lemon, I wouldn’t have been stuck with downtime and decided to poke around in that office, open that safe, and find that deposit that happened to contain,” he held up the bank bag, “ta-da, a sweet $2754 more. That brings our grand total for the evening to $5069. And you say not bad. Hah.”
     With a vengeance, he plowed back into his soup as Tinman looked on, a bemused smile on his face. He reached for his spoon and said, “Thank goodness for that lemon.”
     “Uh Huh! Mmm Mmm Good!”