by Denise Carbo
A slight temptation to crack the window and eavesdrop on what they are saying grips me. I glance at the controls and roll my eyes. They’re electric and he has the keys.
Mitch strides across the parking lot to the truck.
I watch Maria to see if she will linger in the doorway and if she will recognize me when the interior lights come on when he opens the door. Will she be surprised? Will she gossip about it? Do I care?
Of course I do, I’m human and insecure. I fervently wish I didn’t give a rat’s ass what other people think about me, but it has been ingrained in me since birth to behave and not shame my parents. I’ve failed at this family doctrine more times than I care to count.
She flounces back into the restaurant before Mitch opens the door, so I guess I’ll never know the answers.
He climbs into the truck carrying a large pizza box and a thin plastic bag with two bottles of water, plates, and napkins inside. “They had a whole pizza ready, so I grabbed it.” He shuts the door and looks at me. “You eat pizza, right? I guess I should’ve asked. You’re not allergic or anything?”
A loud grumbling echoes in the truck's cab emanating from my stomach.
“Should I take that as a yes?” Mitch laughs while I wince and try not to sink down in the seat.
He hands me a paper plate, napkin, and water bottle and opens the pizza box. The aroma of hot pizza wafts from the box and my mouth waters.
“Thank you.” I accept the pizza slice he holds out with a smile. It smells delicious and I know from experience it will taste just as good.
Taking a bite, I close my eyes and savor the combination of seasoned Italian sauce, thin crust, and gobs of cheese melting in my mouth. A string of cheese hangs between the pizza and my mouth on the second bite and slaps me in the chin when it releases. Sauce speckles the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie. Cringing, I vow to spray with stain removal as soon as I get home. I always keep a stash of the stuff in my bathroom and at the bakery.
I cave and take a second piece. Mitch gestures with his pizza to the side of the restaurant. “Look familiar?”
Two young teenage boys stand on the sidewalk digging through their jean pockets and counting out whatever cash they scrounged up.
A chuckle slips from me. “Yes, it does.” We had collected cans and bottles wherever we could find them a couple of times to exchange for the deposit money and then we used the cash to get a couple slices of pizza.
I had received a small allowance every week from my parents, but I don’t think Mitch did because he never had any money.
“Do you remember that time we were looking for cans and thought we’d come across the mother load when we found that tree with the cans stuck on the ends of the branches?”
Mitch’s laughter rings out in the truck. “That old guy appeared out of his garage shaking a fist at us and yelling we were destroying his art.”
“How were we supposed to know cans stuck on a tree branch was art?”
“Damn, I had forgotten about that.”
“Me too. Seeing the kids made me remember it.” Not really. I had always remembered it.
It reminds me I have no cash on me and no way to reimburse him for the pizza. I’ll have to pay him back later.
“So, tell me what’s changed in the past decade? The town seems busier than I remember.”
“Well it is the start of tourist season. The summer people are arriving.” Mitch’s parents had once been part of that group. They lived here only in the summer and left in the fall. Many of the locals rely on the income generated by the summer people. “I guess there are probably more of them. They built a condominium development on the other side of town a few years ago. It’s still the same Granite Cove though. Hanson’s Grocery is still around. Do you remember we used to get a root beer and bubblegum there all the time?”
“Sure do. And what were those chocolate cake things they had there called?”
“Whoopie pies.”
“Those were good. They still make those?”
“No, Mrs. Simpson used to make them, but she moved to Pennsylvania to be with her grandkids a few years ago. I bake them in the bakery from time to time.”
“My mouth is watering just thinking about them.”
“Well, I suppose I could make them this week.”
We reminisce over our adventures that summer, one tale after another. The last one has tears leaking out of the corners of Mitch’s eyes as he laughs. My eyes are watering too, but it isn’t from laughter. Not that I will let him know.
We had gone raspberry picking and most of the berries had ended up in our stomachs rather than the containers we carried. I had tripped over a tree root in the ground and lay sprawled on the grass with raspberries all over me. The juice had stained my skin and clothes. Not all the stains on my pants were from the raspberries, however. Unbeknown to me, my entrance to womanhood had arrived that day.
After I had left Mitch, I had been on my way home when I ran into Vanessa and her friends. They had laughed hysterically pointing at my pants in horrific delight. I had run home in tears. Their torment had continued once we returned to school in the Fall. Not a happy memory for me.
“I suppose I should get you home.” He starts the truck and drives out of the parking lot while I gaze out the passenger window trying not to let the memories drag me down.
Colonial and Federal style buildings line the main street of the village. They were private homes at one time, but now they are stores and other various businesses. He drives past the small-town green which divides the old part of town commonly referred to as the village and the newer part of town that developed as the town grew and sprawled out. A large octagonal gazebo occupies the center and a war memorial statue presides over the pointy triangle end at the intersection of Main Street and Town Street. Flowers and neatly trimmed bushes surround each structure and are dotted throughout the green along with benches. Lights strung throughout cast a luminous glow over the entire area.
“Today was your day off, so the bakery is open tomorrow, right? I’ve been missing your coffee. I may be going through withdrawal.”
I glance at his profile and smile. “I told you I make good coffee. The bakery is open Wednesday through Sunday.”
“Award-winning, I know. I see why. Those muffins are spectacular too.”
“I told you I would bake whoopie pies for you, didn’t I? I guess now I’ll have to make those for you tomorrow since you rescued me and bought me pizza.”
He grins. “Interesting name choice, whoopie pie.”
“I didn’t name them. They’re named that because kids exclaimed, whoopie when they got them as a treat. I believe it predates any different connotation on the name you might be referring to.”
“Are you blushing Franny?”
Damn it. My cheeks heat even more after he points it out.
“The bane of fair skin and freckles.”
“It’s cute. The blush itself and that someone saying whoopie makes you blush.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab my bag of stuff from the floor as he enters my parents’ driveway and parks. “It’s not the word, it’s what you were implying.”
“What did you think I was implying?”
“You know very well what you were implying.”
“Yeah, I do, but I want to hear you say it. The word is sex, Franny. Come on, say it.”
“What are you, twelve?” I open my door and climb out.
“Chicken.”
I puff out a breath and stare at his grinning face. Glancing around behind me at my parent’s house, I turn back to him and whisper, “Sex, there are you satisfied now?”
“Not particularly.”
I stare at him gazing back at me. What did he mean by that?
“Yeah, well, thanks again for everything. Goodnight.” I back away and shut the door.
Mitch lowers the passenger window. “Goodnight Franny. I’ll be dreaming of your whoopie pies. Don’t disappoint me.”
Chapter Eight
Mrs. Roberts sits on her front porch in one of the wooden rocking chairs. I often find her here people watching. She told me it’s one of her favorite pastimes.
“I brought over a double batch this time so you shouldn’t run out for a while.” I hold up the box and smile.
She pats the arm of the chair next to hers. “Come visit for a spell.”
I sit down, open the box, and offer her the meringues. She peers into the box and selects one. Her eyes close as she bites into it. Nothing makes me happier than seeing someone enjoy my creations.
“Delicious as always, my dear. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
We rock in silence for several minutes. I had a busy day at the bakery today and it’s nice to sit and enjoy the silence.
“What’s new with your bakery? Is your young man going to sell you the building? I’m afraid I won’t be able to rent you the apartment. Agatha told me they plan to stay.”
I tilt my head in her direction. “He’s not my young man and I haven’t asked him to sell me the building because I can’t come close to whatever he must have paid for Mr. Brick to go behind my back like that. I had a realtor show me places for sale, but nothing has panned out yet.”
“Maybe you should make him your young man again and then he’ll sell you the building for what you can afford, or even give it you.”
A snort of laughter escapes me before I can choke it back. “Mrs. Roberts!”
“What? People have done much worse. Besides, it’s not like it would be distasteful to spend time with him again, would it? I remember I time when the two of you were inseparable.”
“That was a lifetime ago, and I’m not that deceitful.”
“Hardly a lifetime. When you get to be my age, a handful of years passes in the blink of an eye.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “You’re too honest to deceive someone, but a little charm never hurts. It’s when charm is all there is when the true harm occurs. There has to be substance.”
Was she referring to her husband? I want to ask her about him, but I don’t want to bring up any painful memories.
“Why didn’t you ever marry again?”
“At my age?”
“After your husband went to prison.”
“My dear, I didn’t divorce my husband. I should have, but I let fear guide me. I didn’t know how he would react. He insisted on his innocence and I pretended to believe him. Perhaps if I had divorced him when he went to prison, he wouldn’t have shown up like a bad penny when they released him early for good behavior.”
My shocked intake of breath draws her gaze.
“Oh yes, I hadn’t seen the last of Charlie Roberts. He walked in the front door as bold as you please one day.”
“What did you do?”
“I waited. It was only a matter of time before he continued his old ways. I’m not sure if he suspected I was the one to turn him in or not, but he got better at hiding any criminal activity.”
“You weren’t scared? I mean he was living with you, right? Or was he gone a lot again?”
“Terrified. He still disappeared from time to time, but he would come back.”
“Did he ever hurt you?” The thought of her being at his mercy made my stomach roll over.
“Not physically. That wasn’t Charlie’s style. He lied and manipulated to get his way.”
“I’m so sorry you had to endure that. I can’t imagine how you managed.”
“I had a goal that’s how. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would find evidence of his foul deeds, but then I got too impatient.”
I pull my feet up on the chair and wrap my arms around my knees. “What happened?”
“See, I wasn’t able to locate anything incriminating, but what I found out was that he was being unfaithful with several women.”
“Oh my.”
“Oh yes. And he was using the money my parents had left me to do it since he wasn’t working.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t kill him!”
Oh Lord, she didn’t, did she?
“The thought crossed my mind a time or two. I bear my share of guilt for what I did and the consequences.”
Mrs. Roberts sighs and sets her chair to rocking again. “I got angry and I told the women about each other. Anonymously, of course. I mailed them letters.”
What would I have done? Would I have confronted him and all his women, or quietly divorced him? I’d like to think I had the strength to face them all and tell them what I thought of them, but I’ve never been the angry tirade type.
“I pray on that decision often. Never do anything in anger, Franny.”
Mrs. Roberts uses the arms of the chairs to push to a stand and grabs her cane leaning against the railing. She picks up the box of meringues and shuffles towards the door.
“I’m going to take a little nap. Thank you for stopping by.”
“I…goodbye, Mrs. Roberts.”
I wait until she goes inside and I hear the lock turn before heading down the stairs of the porch. What had happened when she told the women about each other?
Now that I had a first name and knew he came back to town, I could search the internet for more information. Something had happened that made her feel guilty.
I cross the street and take the alleyway between my bakery and the sporting goods store next door. The alleyway leads to the sidewalk along the docks and to the park near my parents’ house.
The park isn’t crowded. A family is having a picnic on the grass. I step off the path to let an elderly couple walk by hand in hand.
A woof sounds behind me. I turn and glance over my shoulder. A giant dog barrels towards me. I glance around. His leash is dangling down his side. He’s escaped his owner.
The dog stops in front of me, jumps up, and puts his paws on my chest. I step back and lift my arms to counterbalance his weight, but he weighs a ton.
Down I go.
The grass tickles my arms as I lay there staring up at the treetops. A rough wet tongue licks my face.
“Waldo!”
I peek through my hands trying to block my face from another swipe of the tongue. “Are you Waldo?”
Woof! Woof!
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
A young woman with deep brown hair streaked with blonde pulls Waldo back a few steps by his collar picks up the leash.
“I’m fine.”
Sitting, I rest my arms on my drawn-up knees, not ready to stand just yet.
“Honestly, he never does this. He got away from me when I was untangling his legs from the leash. He took off before I could grab him.”
Waldo butts against my shoulder and I laugh and rub his head.
“It’s nice to meet you Waldo, but your technique could use polishing.”
The woman laughs and holds out her hand as I haul myself up from the ground. “I’m Kelly.”
“Franny.”
Her white jeans are immaculate despite chasing after her dog. I would be covered in grass stains, dirt, fur, and God only knows what else.
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I pat the brown furry head that comes up to my waist as he sits on the grass. “What kind of dog is he?”
“A Great Dane. He’s a sweetheart and must really like you. He’s not usually so boisterous about it.”
Just my luck, a male suddenly finds me irresistible and he’s a dog.
Chapter Nine
After saying goodbye to Kelly and Waldo, and once again assuring her I am fine, I stroll over to my favorite spot in the park, my bench. It’s not really my bench but I like to think of it that way. I sit down, tilt my head back, and close my eyes. The late afternoon sun warms my face and a light breeze ruffles my hair. The waves lap against the shore. A boat engine rumbles across the lake in the distance. Ah, peace and tranquility, it doesn’t get much better than
this.
Leaves rustle nearby. Opening my eyes, I spot a squirrel dashing up a tree. It leaps from branch to branch somehow balancing and gripping the wood. The end of the branch sways and then bounces as another gray squirrel joins in the fun. Their tiny legs carry them up and down the tree trunks and zipping along the branches.
Laughter bubbles out of me.
“Talking to yourself is one thing, but laughing? That might be cause for concern. Care to let me in on the joke?”
Mitch is leaning on the back of the bench smiling at me. Sunglasses hide his eyes. A black hoodie and jeans camouflage his toned form and I’m momentarily disappointed until I notice how the worn denim cups his attributes.
“The squirrels were entertaining me.”
He slides onto the bench and rests his arm along the back behind my shoulders.
“I went by your house to return your kayak. No one was home, so I left it by the boathouse.”
I look down at the ground and grimace. How could I forget to arrange to pick it up?
“You didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry, I should have taken care of it.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Glancing at his face to judge if he is serious or only being polite, I smile when he appears sincere. “Thank you.”
Mitch nods and scans the lake. “So what are you doing here? Besides watching the squirrels?”
I shrug. “I like to stop on my way home from the bakery and relax for a bit.”
“It’s a peaceful spot.” He taps my leg. “What happened here?”
I glance down at the grass stains and dirt decorating my pants. “I had a run in with an ardent admirer.”
His eyebrows raise and lower. “Care to elaborate?”