The Magnolia Inn

by Carolyn Brown

  The inn’s phone rang, and he reached for it at the same time Jolene did. His hand closed around hers, but he quickly moved it away and told himself that the abrupt noise had startled him—that’s what created the electricity between them.

  “Magnolia Inn,” Jolene said. She listened for a few minutes and then said, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed for remodeling.”

  She put her hand over the receiver and whispered, “A lady wants to book a room, but we just can’t, can we?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t see how.”

  More listening as she alternately shook her head and nodded. “Ma’am, the upstairs hallway has furniture stacked in it. The bathroom that the workers use is the only available one, and that bedroom hasn’t been cleaned in weeks.”

  She laid the receiver on her chest. “It’s an elderly lady who says that she and her husband spent their honeymoon here forty years ago. They want to come back and spend tomorrow night.”

  “Fine, tell her to come right on. I’ll clear a path for them. Anyone who’s been married that long deserves a little consideration,” Tucker said. “But make them understand that we are in a major remodeling job.”

  She removed her hand. “Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind the mess, I think we can manage to have that room ready for you by four tomorrow afternoon. Great! We’ll see you then.”

  Jolene grabbed her head with both hands. “She wants the last room on the right side of the hallway. At least it’s not torn up, but we’ll have to move furniture around to get to it. I’ve got to get things dusted and clean cloths put on the dining room tables, and that room has to get a thorough cleaning. I’m going to put the doilies in the washer and use them, and I need to go to town tomorrow morning for some roses. I can get them at Walmart. Aunt Sugar has pretty vases somewhere, and maybe a few cookies . . .” She sucked in a lungful of air as if she was about to go on.

  “Whoa, pardner.” Tucker held up a hand. “You told her we were remodeling and she wanted to book a night anyway. Run the vacuum, chase away the dust bunnies, and make one of your fabulous breakfasts for them.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Their room should be nice, and the bathroom should be spotless. It’s their fortieth anniversary, for cryin’ out loud.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but roses and cookies?”

  “That was something Aunt Sugar always did. A flower in a vase on the dresser and half a dozen cookies under a little dome. The guests loved that personal touch.”

  Tucker patted her on the shoulder. “How about one of those pretty silk magnolia things in a vase? I was going to make a beer run this evening anyway. I can go to Walmart and get one of those magnolia flowers and a dozen cookies. If I get there before the bakery folks leave, I might even get a cupcake with one of those ‘Happy Anniversary’ stick things on it.”

  “That would help so much. It’ll give me plenty of time to plan breakfast and get things as straight as possible.” Her mind was running in circles so badly that she didn’t even realize he was touching her.

  “Since the dining room is a total mess, we could put a small table in the corner of their room and offer them ‘breakfast in bed.’” He pointed. “That little table right there with a lamp on it would be perfect.”

  “I love it. We can set it in the corner of their room and carry the food up to them on a fancy tray.” She could visualize it with a breakfast tray set on it. “Now shoo! Go to work. I’ll get busy making the living room presentable and then go on up to that bedroom. Good Lord, can you even imagine forty years of marriage and wanting to go back to an old bed-and-breakfast to celebrate? Me, I’d want a second honeymoon on a cruise ship or maybe in Hawaii. Wherever the first one wasn’t!”

  He disappeared up the stairs with his new box of tools, and she grabbed the basket of cleaning aids that her aunt always took to each room. Jolene had helped her aunt clean the rooms when she stayed there, but she didn’t remember this one in particular. It was even shabbier than the one across and down the hall where she and Tucker had started renovations.

  The only sound she could hear as she started dusting was the gritty noise of sandpaper on the wall as Tucker did his work. Then he started humming, and before long he was singing along with whatever song was coming through the earbuds of his MP3 player.

  Jolene rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and noticed cobwebs in every corner. My life is like this room. Needs some remodeling, and there’s still old stuff in the corners that needs to be taken care of. Will I ever be able to trust my heart?

  Aunt Sugar had taught her to start at the top and work her way down, so she wrapped a rag round a broom and took care of the cobwebs first. That’s what she needed to do with her life—start at the top and get all those pesky things out of the hidden corners. Judging Tucker by her mother wasn’t right, for one thing. They’d both had horrible experiences that they tried to forget by drinking. It looked like Tucker was trying to overcome his problem, so that was a plus.

  You’re comparing apples and cow chips. Her mother’s voice was loud in her ears. Think about it.

  Jolene ran a wet cloth all around the baseboards to get rid of a layer of dust and muttered, “Why would I have to think about it? You both have or had the same problem, but at least if he dies in a sleazy hotel, he won’t leave a young girl without parents. And he’s trying to get his life in order.”

  She immediately felt guilty for her tone. Why can’t I sweep the bad feelings out of my heart and soul as easily as I did the cobwebs off the ceiling?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Somehow Tucker managed to slide a piece of furniture into each of the other bedrooms and clear out the hallway, and they worked together to get the requested room ready. Jolene pretended she was the guests and slung open the door to get a first impression of the room. It certainly wasn’t a five-star hotel, but she’d done what she could with what she had to work with, and there was a quaint beauty to the room. She only hoped that it didn’t disappoint her anniversary couple.

  Tucker’s reflection in the mirror as he stood behind her said that he was as pleased with it as she was.

  “It looks wonderful. Think about what the place looked like yesterday when we came home from the auction and how it is now. You’ve done an amazing job, Jolene.”

  His warm breath sent a rush of heat through her body, giving her the sudden desire to turn around and kiss him, but she wrapped her arms around her own body and said, “I’ve got this partner that helped me. You should meet him sometime. He’s pretty great.”

  “Oh, really. Should I be jealous?” Tucker teased.

  She whipped around, and for a split second, she again thought he might kiss her—their lips were that close—but he took a step back.

  “Of course not,” Jolene said.

  “What if he had more money and was a better carpenter?” Tucker asked.

  “Not even then. You don’t have a reason to be jealous,” Jolene answered.

  Tucker scanned the room one more time. “Have we forgotten anything?”

  “Not anything that I can think of. And your idea for that little table was great,” she said.

  “Thank you.” He motioned with a nod for her to go downstairs before him. “Let’s have a cup of hot chocolate while we wait for them. I hate that I’m losing time to work, but this is probably good advertising. We’ve got fifteen minutes until they’ll check in.”

  “And if they’re like Aunt Sugar and Uncle Jasper, they’ll be here five minutes early,” she said.

  “Word-of-mouth promotion is the best in the world. These folks will go home and tell everyone how we worked to accommodate them.”

  “I hope so.” She mentally ran through everything in the room and the bathroom to be sure she hadn’t forgotten a single thing.

  The older couple arrived at exactly four o’clock with one light-blue suitcase that had seen better days. The lady, tall and thin, had a magnolia corsage pinned to her white lace dress and shoes that dated back to the late seventies. Her
salt-and-pepper hair was swept up in the back, and a circlet of faded silk roses held a shoulder-length veil.

  “Hello, we’re Jerry and Mary Anderson. We have reservations,” the husband said.

  “Your room is ready,” Tucker said.

  “Please forgive the mess,” Jolene said.

  “Honey, we don’t care about all that. We just want to spend our anniversary in the same room as our one-night honeymoon, forty years ago,” Mary said. “It reminds us of how much we love each other.”

  “I’ll take that suitcase for you,” Tucker said.

  “No, thank you,” the lady said.

  “It’s our little ritual. Same suitcase as forty years ago. Same clothes. Same room. And now I carry the bag upstairs and then . . .” He kissed his bride on the cheek.

  “Jerry will set it beside the door and carry me across the threshold. We’ll be in our room until tomorrow when it’s checkout time.” She tucked her hand in his.

  “Since we’re remodeling, we’ll bring breakfast to your room at about eight in the morning,” Jolene said.

  “How sweet.” Mary smiled. “We had blueberry muffins and the lightest pancakes. Sugar always remembered. Do you think that could be possible?”

  “Of course.” Jolene nodded.

  “Okay, darlin’,” Jerry said. “Shall we continue our honeymoon?”

  “Yes, darlin’.”

  They went up the stairs hand in hand, with the suitcase bumping the wall every now and then. Jolene couldn’t take her eyes from them, and when she heard the door shut, she sighed.

  “What a beautiful tradition,” she whispered.

  “I need a drink. Want one?”

  She shook her head. How could he drink now?

  A memory of her mother when they saw a car with “Just Married” written on the back window in shoe polish flashed through Jolene’s mind.

  “It makes me sad to think of those happy days. I need a drink,” Elaine had said.

  When Jolene had returned home that night, Elaine was passed out on the sofa.

  “All this work and they won’t even use the living room or the dining room.” She changed the subject and glanced toward the curtain and cornice that Tucker had hung in the dining room to cover up the huge hole where he’d torn out the wall to get to the plumbing.

  “It don’t matter. You sure you don’t want a shot of whiskey or a beer?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t, and it matters to me, Tucker,” she said.

  “I had what they’ve got,” he said. “Nothing’s filling that hole.”

  “I assume we’re talking about your heart and not the wall. What makes you think drinking will help?” She snapped, “You’re a lucky man, you know. You had what I want so bad I can taste it, and instead of being grateful for what you had, you drown your good memories in a bottle.”

  “Don’t preach at me,” he growled.

  “Don’t make me.” She flounced off to her room to find Sassy sleeping at the foot of her bed.

  He wanted to slam the door to his room so much that it took all his willpower to shut it without a sound. Sassy wasn’t anywhere in sight, so he didn’t even have a cat to talk to. He went to the dresser and poured a shot of whiskey in a plastic cup. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared through the cup out the window toward the bayou. Nothing was in focus, just like his life. He set the glass on the nightstand without drinking from it, went back out into the foyer, got his coat, and tucked his keys into his pocket.

  He drove to the Marshall cemetery and went straight to Melanie’s grave. He sat down in front of the tombstone and ran his fingers over the engraved name. “I love you, Melanie Malone. Always will. You’re my soul mate. You understood me.”

  “Hello,” a deep voice said right behind him.

  He didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Luke Tillison, Melanie’s father. Without being invited, the man sat down beside Tucker. Luke had been a big man the last time Tucker saw him—at Melanie’s funeral. He’d lost at least forty pounds and aged twenty years.

  Tucker started to get up. “I was just leaving.”

  “Don’t go, Tucker. Life hasn’t been good to either of us, has it? You’re still grieving and I’ve got an inoperable brain tumor. They gave me a year and it’s been nine months, but the upside is that when I’m gone, I’ll see Melanie again.”

  Tucker eased back down to a sitting position. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. I’ve missed her so much, Tucker. I’ve got two sons, and I should be focused on giving them support and love, but she was my baby girl. She stole my heart the day she was born, and she took it with her when she died.”

  Tucker took a blue bandanna from his hip pocket and handed it to the man. “Mine, too.”

  “Don’t let this . . .” Luke wiped his eyes and handed it back to Tucker. He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time. She loved you, Tucker. And it was plain that you adored her. I’m sorry. But don’t let her death define you. You are young. Move on and live a long and happy life. Don’t wallow in misery like I’ve done. I’ve cheated my wife out of my last years and my sons out of a father. I hear you’ve bought interest in the Magnolia Inn. I’m glad to see that you’re trying to move on.”

  “I should have gone into town that night. I should have spent more time with her. I shouldn’t have worked late,” Tucker said.

  Luke laid his hand on Tucker’s knee. “Could have. Should have. Would have. That’s all in the past. Take a lesson from an old man who’s made too many mistakes. Move on out of the pain and be happy. It’s too late for me now, but you’re still a young man. And accept my apologies for trying to talk Melanie out of marryin’ you because you were a cop. You gave her years of happiness and joy, and I’m grateful to you for that.”

  “Accepted, but it’s hard to move on after everything you had was so perfect,” Tucker said.

  “Sounds like a country song,” Luke said. “It would sure be nice if you’d come to the dinner on Saturday. Bring your partner with you. We’d like to meet her. You know I’ve got two sons that still aren’t married.” He managed a weak grin.

  “Can’t make any promises—we’ve got plans. But if we get through early, we might pop in for a few minutes.” Tucker laid a hand on the tombstone and then stood up. “How often do you come here?”

  “Every day. Sometimes more than once. I’ve begged for her forgiveness for tryin’ to talk her out of marryin’ you, but I don’t feel like it’s happened yet,” Luke said.

  “In my opinion, she forgave you years ago.” Tucker gave Luke’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Take care of yourself.”

  Tucker drove a few blocks away from the cemetery and pulled into the parking lot of a trucking business. He laid his head on the steering wheel. The sobs racked his body and tears dripped onto the legs of his jeans. “Why couldn’t we have forty years, darlin’?”

  You can still have it if you’ll let me go, Melanie fussed at him again. I can’t do it for you, but I sent you the strongest messenger I’ve got today. Listen to Daddy.

  He raised his head and dried his face, blending his tears with her father’s on the bandanna. “I’ll try, but it can’t be with Jolene. We’re partners. If it fell apart, we’d have a hell of a situation.”

  Armed with a recipe for blueberry muffins, Jolene left her room to check and be sure that she had everything in the inn to make them. Sure enough, there were just enough berries in the refrigerator, and all the other ingredients were in the pantry.

  She picked up a bottle of water and carried it to the living room with Sassy right behind her. The cat jumped up on the sofa beside her and inched her way into Jolene’s lap.

  “You have a stubborn master.” Jolene rubbed her long fur.

  “Yes, she did,” Tucker said from the doorway.

  Jolene had never known a man who walked as quietly as he did. She didn’t answer—just shot a look over toward him. “So do you still need a drink, or did you have three or four before you
left?”

  “Sassy was Melanie’s cat to start with, and you’re right. She could be as stubborn as the proverbial Missouri mule. Ever wonder why one from that state would be worse than, say, one from Texas?”

  “No, and you didn’t answer my question,” she said.

  “I didn’t have the drink. I poured it, but . . .” He removed his coat and hung it over the back of a rocking chair before he sat down in a recliner and popped up the footrest. “I went to the cemetery to talk to Melanie. Her dad, Luke, was there. I need a friend, Jolene. Not a therapist. Not a partner. A friend.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered. “So what happened with her father?”

  “He told me to move on, that Melanie would want me to, but I’m afraid if I do that I’ll lose the memories I have of her,” he said.

  His eyes were bloodshot, but she believed him when he said he hadn’t had a drink. She’d swear to that. She knew the difference in eyes that had been crying and those that were caused by too much liquor.

  “He has a brain tumor, and he hasn’t got much longer—that was partly why he was there. He looked like hell. But he apologized and doesn’t blame me for her death.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it? Not that he’s dying but that you got things settled.” She wished that she and her mother had come to an understanding before Elaine had passed on.

  “It should feel good, but nothing’s different.” Tucker’s tone said that he was miserable, but at least he hadn’t gone straight for the bottle.

  “Let it go, Tucker. Some of it you’ve got to do yourself, and that’s a friend talking, not a therapist. No one can do it for you. Maybe the first step would be to go to the party they’re having. It might bring you closure to remember everything, the good and the bad.”

  “But . . . ,” he started to say and then stopped.

  She could’ve finished his sentence for him if she’d wanted. He was about to say that there were no bad times, but she knew that was part of the letting go, too. To remember it all just like it was—black, white, or gray. There had been very few white—or good—memories in her world. Most of them had been either gray or black. Maybe it was the reverse in his, but she was learning to face it all. Like remembering the good times with her mother and her dad’s flower beds. Remembering only the good times was just as unhealthy as remembering only the bad ones—there was no closure in either.