Too Sweet to Be Good

by K. M. Jackson

  Still Lottie continued, “Busy as they are, but by now you know to consider everyone in this town your family. A shame more of your people couldn’t make it to be with you during this time.”

  Betty stifled her words of rebuttal as Lottie’s last remark stirred old feelings to the surface. Suddenly she felt just as close to the Sugar Lake town limits as she did when she first got into town more than fifty years before. As the new Yankee bride come to town after stealing away one of their own—and the town’s most eligible bachelor to boot—she sure had had her fair share of barbs from envious towns-women back in the day.

  But using her well-honed years of training, Betty squelched her feelings back down and instead let out a slow breath and gave a cool smile. Lottie seemed to understand the meaning behind that smile, and she turned toward Liz for a bit of shoring up.

  Thankfully for Lottie, Liz came through with a nod of agreement, so she continued. “Yes, we would have surely pitched in. I could have had someone over in a hot minute. Why, I could have sent my son or my daughter-in-law or any of my grands on by. All it takes is a word, hon. And there is no need for you to ever feel like a bother. Any of them would be happy to help. We know how hard it is for you with your grandson always on the go. Why, it’s such a pity that he had to run off and leave so soon after the funeral. And just when you could use the extra hand. But I suppose he never was really cut out for Sugar Lake life. Got more of the city in him like you, I suppose. Still, it’s a shame.” Once again, she turned to her hype woman. “Isn’t it a shame, Liz dear?”

  And, as expected, Liz came through, nodding her agreement and causing Betty to wonder if they were now rehearsing their own Sugar Lake cover of a Vegas act. No matter, Betty was not amused and frankly getting pretty darned close to losing it. It was time to shut this little morning catch-up session down. “Well, it’s understandable,” Betty said. “My Kellen had very important business to take care of. He’s been a true blessing to Henry and me and now I’m more than grateful that Henry entrusted him with the family business, having the foresight to see his gifts so long ago. Though”—she slowed and paused for dramatic effect—“Goodness knows I had to practically chase him out of town. He wanted so very much to stay by my side.”

  Betty felt momentarily guilty for the lie. Though it was true that Kellen, she knew, felt a bit of guilt over leaving her to head to Atlanta to take care of Kilborn Properties’ ever-expanding (thanks to his shrewd dealings and expert ways) businesses. She knew leaving Sugar Lake wasn’t all that much of a sacrifice for him. Though he loved both his grandparents, moving to Sugar Lake from New York to live with her and Henry after his parents passed away was never his idea of childhood bliss. An already quiet, reserved boy, Kellen was infinitely happier exploring a fine museum or even just getting lost in the anonymity of traversing down the street in a large city over a stroll through Sugar Lake’s rambling woods. He’d never fully acclimated to the lifestyle of a town like Sugar Lake where everyone knew your name and darn near your shoe size and blood type.

  And it wasn’t like Betty totally blamed her grandson. Being somewhat an outsider herself when Henry brought her to town so many years ago, she thought she’d never get acclimated. Straight from her traveling road show tour company’s bus to his old Chevy and from there to the judge, where they were married, and then onto Sugar Lake. Betty almost smiled. Thinking on it once again, as she often did of late: Gosh, was Henry ever a smooth talker. For the life of her, she’d spent the first few years of their marriage wondering how he’d convinced her to accept his proposal so darned easily and move to this quirky town that she’d never even heard of.

  Of course, Betty wouldn’t let Lottie or Liz know any of her thoughts about Kellen or Henry though; so she went on, continuing her familial praise as convincingly as she could. “Yes, Kellen didn’t want to leave, but I told him he must. These tragedies of life happen, but his grandfather wouldn’t want others to suffer because of him, and Kellen was needed for some important meetings in Atlanta. You all can expect great things from my Kellen and Kilborn Properties very soon.” Getting out that last bit took all Betty had, especially with the fine fit of a mood Kellen currently had her in.

  “Well, let’s hope he’s not strictly all work, Betty dear. Though death is truly tragic, it does make one start to think on life and the circle of things. He really should get thinking about starting a family soon,” Lottie said.

  Betty felt a frown pull at the corner of her mouth and fought to temper it back. These women were good. Completely on their A button-pushing games this fine morning. Betty continued to smile. “I’m sure a family will happen in due time. But Kellen is young and like I said, he’s terribly busy. I’m so proud of him and lucky to have him to take up the reins where Henry left off. He has plenty of time for whatnot and all the rest.”

  Whew. Was she laying it on too thick or was that just convincing enough to get the women off her back and stop tongues wagging for a while? Betty hoped the latter, but really what did it matter? This time she didn’t know if it was her voice she was hearing or Henry’s, and once again the tears threatened to come. He was right. What did it matter?

  There was no use wasting her time or the excess energy on what Lottie or Liz thought. The fact remained that her sweet Henry was gone, and in that she’d concede that the meddling Lottie and Liz were correct—she was alone. Henry was gone, her beloved son, Sidney, gone, her daughter-in-law, Alice, gone. Gone, gone, gone, all way before their times in her opinion, not that anyone was asking. All she had left was her grandson, a voice on the phone from Atlanta in between business meetings or property scouting trips or the gym or whatever else it was he did to keep his life so very full while she was here, just where Henry left her, alone in Sugar Lake.

  Betty squelched back a sigh as the loneliness she had been feeling in her old rambling house on the hill threatened to overtake her once again. Without her sweet Henry to fill the long days and the even longer nights, to make her laugh with his god-awful jokes or wipe away her late-night tears still brought on by silly childhood shadows of being an orphan, it all seemed so incredibly lonely.

  Betty swallowed down on a lump in her throat that had no right being there. She gave Liz and Lottie what she knew good and darned well was not at all a convincing smile and put on her best stage voice, channeling her old days singing and acting out skits on the traveling tour circuit. “I must be off now, you two. I have been dying for some of Joyce’s honey biscuits and I will not be deterred.” Oh fudge! Did her voice actually crack? “You both have a wonderful day, now, and don’t you go and be strangers. Don’t think I didn’t know the purpose of your past impromptu stopovers while my Henry was out doing his morning gardening. Now that he’s gone, though, I can’t offer such a view. I will try and keep the garden up as best I can, and I can still put together a fine tea and play a mean hand of spades.” Betty gave them both a huge grin and prayed her smile wouldn’t falter till she was at least out of viewing range.

  Thankfully her fast rambling seemed to put the duo off kilter and neither Lottie nor Liz could seem to find the proper response to Betty’s off-color, dead man gardening comment. How could they? What proper Southern woman admits to ogling a newly departed man during his sweaty lawn maintenance? It just wasn’t done.

  Good, Betty thought. It was just the reaction she was looking for. “I hope to see you both soon. Be sure to stop by. I’d love to have the company,” Betty lied as she quickly turned toward Goode ’N Sweet, the town’s long-standing bakery, without a backward glance. Betty vowed she would not turn around and she would not leave Goode ’N Sweet to head to Cartland’s before she was sure that Lottie and Liz were long gone off Main Street and back to the air-conditioned confines of their own homes.

  Nearing the bakeshop, she hoped that Joyce Goode was in her usual good mood, and by that she meant Goode in the familial sense and not in the countenance sense, because Betty didn’t think she could take another moment of putting on false airs or having
them put upon her. No thank you. She’d already had her fill for the day on that front.

  Right now, all she wanted was some of Joyce’s honey biscuits and maybe a slice of peach pecan pie as a do-you-right mood chaser. She swore Joyce’s peach pie could soothe just about any hurt. Sure, she’d take the condolences that were sure to come, and she suspected, keep coming for some time, but now all she wanted—no, all she needed—was a bit of peace and, Lord please, a small bit of the old normalcy back in her life. If she could get a little of that without any of the side of extra judgment, she might just have found a few seconds of what felt like contentment. Then maybe, just maybe, she could make it through another blasted day without Henry.

  Chapter 2

  Working Girl

  Drea leaned back and stretched, sending her back into a full arch, slightly wincing at a twinge of pain she wasn’t used to feeling. Wow. Missing out on the three-times-a-week dance classes she used to take back in Manhattan was really starting to catch up to her. By no means a professional, Drea at least had the basics of tap, jazz, and modern, with a smattering of ballet under her belt. Back when she was in New York, she’d kept her body in shape with fusion hip-hop classes, which also kept her up on the latest audition happenings since the classes were populated by club kids who, for the most part, all had the same stars in their eyes as she did.

  She thought of the enthusiastic dreamers and wondered how they were faring and if any of them had made it further in the past year than the role of underpaid body roller in some up-and-comer’s music video. Keeping up on a few social media apps, she’d heard news of a few hits from some of her old crew. But if you let “the Gram” tell it, they were all living as large as Bey, Jay, and the K-Dash clan on the regular.

  Drea shook her head. Who was she to throw stones? A year ago, she would have given her pinky toe, maybe both, to body roll in a music video or hang in the vicinity of any of the previously mentioned celebs. She looked around quickly, saw that the coast was more than clear, then did a quick four-count step and added in a body roll and a saucy shimmy mimicking one of her favorite latest music videos.

  Drea tried her best to be happy for her old frenemy and at times professional rival Cassidy when she saw her dancing in the background of a video on YouTube. She and Cassidy had become friends in the loosest sense when they found themselves together in one too many situations. In the same jazz and hip-hop classes and then only two elliptical machines down from each other at the gym. Then when there were open calls for young African American women, well, there they were together again. I guess at that point they were friends. The enemy part didn’t kick in until they both ended up as hostesses at the same SoHo eatery and the same so-called entertainment-connected married boss kept promising them both hookups. Drea sighed as she stopped dancing and picked up her cleaning rag once again. She guessed Cassidy won out there, judging by her prominent presence in the video and the fact that Drea was here, arranging pies.

  “Now, I wouldn’t take you for the sighing type, Alexandrea.”

  Drea looked up, surprised she’d been so distracted in her thoughts that she didn’t even hear the tinkling of the chime that accompanied the opening of the bakeshop’s front door. Upon seeing and hearing the arriving patron, she couldn’t help the smile that came unbidden to her lips. Mrs. Kilborn—well, Mrs. Betty, as she insisted on being called by her first name like so many of the Southern women in town did—looked lovely in her black pedal pushers with black Keds-style sneakers and a white blouse topped with a lovely pink cardigan. Drea noticed that over her left breast she was wearing the beautiful heart brooch she’d so often seen her wear. It struck Drea then that the brooch may have had an even deeper meaning to the recently widowed woman than just the piece of costume jewelry she’d thought it to be.

  Drea pulled her shoulders back and grinned at Mrs. Betty’s insistence on calling her Alexandrea. Whenever she saw her it was “Alexandrea this or dear Alex that,” never “Drea” as others called her. She guessed it wasn’t grand enough for the over-the-top Mrs. Betty. Drea cleared her throat and forced her expression to brighten even more. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Betty. Looks like you caught me at an off moment. I’m so glad to see you!”

  Mrs. Betty waved a hand as she came forward. “No worries, dear Alex. We’ve all been there. And I suppose you still haven’t quite fully gotten used to our sleepy little town, you being a big city girl and all.”

  Drea gave her head a shake and for a moment let her inner thoughts escape as she looked over at the display counter, this time not quite seeing the pretty, colorful pies, glistening rolls, and other assorted pastries. Her mind was wandering once again to thoughts of dreams deferred and a faraway New York. “If only,” she mumbled.

  “What do you mean, ‘if only’?”

  Drea looked back over at Mrs. Betty, a bit of confusion in her eyes and instant worry over Mrs. Betty’s frown. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Drea said. “I didn’t mean to go babbling out loud. Pay me no attention.” She smiled again. “Why don’t you take a seat while I get you some tea and a nice warm honey biscuit. I’m sorry, my aunt’s not here, but she should be back soon. She just went to an appointment and to run a few errands.”

  It was then that Drea noticed the extra tote in Mrs. Betty’s hand. It didn’t look too heavy, but it was substantial enough and she could see there were some large rolled files sticking out. How silly of her. She rushed from behind the counter to give her a hand. “Here, let me take that from you. I should have offered earlier. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s no matter, dear,” Mrs. Betty said, swooshing her away. “I’m not so old I can’t handle this light work. And no worries about your aunt. It’s not like I’m in any type of rush. I’m just happy to be out.” Though her comment was seemingly benign, Drea couldn’t help but notice the slight clouding over of her gaze. Drea stepped back and watched as the older woman took a seat, not at her usual table by the window, but one further back, out of view of passersby, where she could still see all the comings and goings along Main Street.

  Her brows tightened as she noticed Mrs. Betty’s gaze go furtively up the block.

  “Were you waiting on someone, Mrs. Betty? Should I set another place?” she asked as she brought the woman over her tea setup.

  Mrs. Betty glanced at her in confusion, then shook her head. “Oh no. I’m definitely not waiting on anyone, dear.” She gave a slight smile. “More like avoiding, if I’m being truthful.” She lowered her voice. “I ran into Lottie and Liz out by Cartland’s and let’s just say . . . they had opinions about me being out today.”

  Drea raised a brow. She knew about Mrs. Lottie and Mrs. Liz from her aunt’s interactions with the pair. “Say no more. I completely understand. And we all know how opinions are. I mean everybody has them but . . .”

  Mrs. Betty chuckled, and it made Drea happy to see her brighten. However, just as fast, her smile became slightly wistful as her eyes went to the window again and down Main Street. Drea could somehow tell in that moment her thoughts were no longer here with her, or Mrs. Lottie or her trusty friend Mrs. Liz—heck, they probably weren’t even in the shop. Drea had a feeling by the look in Mrs. Betty’s eyes that her mind, no, her heart, was somewhere walking hand-in-hand down Main Street with her too recently departed husband, Henry.

  Drea quickly blinked back sudden tears, thankful that they didn’t overflow before the older woman looked back her way. What was her problem?

  She ran back behind the counter and made herself busy getting the tea and biscuits prepared the way she knew Mrs. Betty preferred. She added a couple of cookies to the side and a few fresh berries, then brought everything over to Mrs. Betty’s table.

  “It really is good to have you in the shop today,” Drea said. “I’ve been missing your sunny face and needed a pick-me-up.”

  Mrs. Betty gave her a smile back. “Thank you for that. Thank you for not asking me what I am doing out or questioning why I’m here.”

  Drea frowned. “Why would I?
You being out is perfectly normal. It’s another beautiful day in the neighborhood, as they say. Why shouldn’t you enjoy it? Besides, my aunt would be fit to be tied if you came to town and had breakfast anywhere else. And you know you don’t want to go getting on her bad side,” Drea stated with a smirk.

  Mrs. Betty shook her head. “No, that I surely don’t.” She chuckled, her voice light, tinkling, the sound for a moment lifting Drea’s sullen mood. “And I don’t know what you mean about a bad side to Joyce. She’s the best people. Tells it like it is and always from the heart.” Drea noticed a hint of something loaded behind Mrs. Betty’s kind words. She suspected her Lottie and Liz encounter took quite a bit out of her with the emotional time she’d been having. But still Mrs. Betty gave her a smile as she continued. “Nothing can compare to the company you get here in Goode ’N Sweet. That includes you too, you know.”

  Drea felt a rush of warmth at the surprising compliment and she suddenly didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Feeling inadequate and wishing her aunt was there, Drea fidgeted a bit, but paused as Mrs. Betty lifted her biscuit and took a healthy bite. As she chewed, Drea felt a small hint of pride watching the woman enjoy the pastry that she could only attribute to her aunt rubbing off on her. But with her pride, worry edged in. It didn’t escape her notice today, the slight bit of gauntness in Mrs. Betty’s normally full, brown cheeks, only highlighted all the more by the coral blush she’d applied to try and hide it. Nor did the bright purple shadow she wore conceal the darkness under her striking deep-set brown eyes. Instead, it only drew attention to the sleepless nights she must be having. Drea could tell that in the past few weeks (or had it now been a month already since her husband’s passing?) that the woman had not been getting proper rest. Clearly, grief was taking not just an understandable emotional toll, but a physical toll as well. Drea could see this visit to the shop today was good and well needed.