The Magnolia Inn

by Carolyn Brown

  The foggy outline of the inn was in sight when suddenly a deer jumped right into the road in front of her and stood there, staring at her with big eyes. She braked and whipped the steering wheel to the right. The deer ran off and the truck slid right toward a big pine tree, coming to a gentle stop against it. Her heart raced and her pulse pounded in her ears. She laid her head on the steering wheel for several minutes until she could catch her breath, and then put the vehicle in reverse. The wheels whirred and spun out on the ice, but she couldn’t get traction. She swung the door open and got out, only to see that the back wheels had dropped into a ditch about six inches deep. There was no way she’d be able to get the truck out that night, and maybe not until things thawed.

  She dug her phone from her purse and called the inn. Surely that party for Melanie hadn’t lasted until three in the morning. After ten rings she hung up and tried again. Still no answer. She called Tucker’s cell phone, and it went straight to voice mail.

  She grabbed her purse, shook her fist at the sky, and trudged the rest of the way to the inn. She was hungry, angry, and chilled to the bone with sleet hitting her in the face all the way to the door. Lord, even her eyelashes were frozen. A rush of welcome warm air greeted her when she unlocked the door and pushed it open. She took a step forward, reached up to feel for the string to pull on the light, and tripped over something on the foyer floor.

  The fall knocked the wind out of her, but when she could catch her breath, she realized that she was lying on top of a person. Visions of a dead body flitted through her head as she pushed away from it. Then she got a whiff of whiskey, and a fresh rush of anger filled her heart and soul.

  “Dammit, Tucker,” she yelled as she stood up.

  The last time she’d come home to a sight like this was the day before she’d kicked Johnny Ray out of her apartment. He’d taken her debit card and managed to wipe out her bank account, but even at that, it was worth getting rid of him. She’d decided right then that she might only be a bartender, but she deserved better.

  “And I do,” she said as she stepped over Tucker’s curled-up body.

  She made herself a sandwich and poured a glass of milk. She walked around him on her way to her bedroom. “Evidently, you like wallowing around in misery. Well, I might be your partner, but I’m not cutting you one inch of slack. You can sleep on the floor all night.”

  She flipped the light switch in her bedroom and heard a moan in the foyer, but Tucker Malone was on his own. If he didn’t remember the hangover cure, then he could damn well suffer.

  Sassy had followed her to her bedroom and curled up on the foot of the bed. “I don’t blame you, girl. I wouldn’t sleep with someone that reeked like he’d fallen into a barrel of whiskey, either.”

  The adrenaline rush from swerving to miss the deer settled down. The chill of the walk home also eased when she got into a pair of sweats and an oversize T-shirt and crawled beneath the covers. The hunger subsided when she finished the sandwich. She fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  Sassy was sitting right beside her when she awoke at noon. “I bet you’re hungry and needing to find your litter pan.”

  The cat meowed pitifully.

  “Well, darlin’ girl, I will feed you, but scooping the litter pan belongs to your master. Let’s get you taken care of, and then I’m diving into a warm bath.” Jolene crawled out of bed with Sassy right behind her.

  Tucker was still on the foyer floor, in the same position as before. Jolene didn’t feel a bit sorry for him. She fed the cat, took a long, hot bath, and washed her hair. When she finished, she went back downstairs and stepped over Tucker again. He groaned and grabbed his head. She ignored him and went straight for the kitchen, where she made coffee. While it perked she put three sausage patties in a skillet to cook and made a stack of pancakes.

  She heard another groan around the time she sat down to eat, but she still had a big ball of anger in her heart. Seeing him like that caused her to remember the anger, pain, and disgust connected with her mother all over again. Sassy hopped up on the table, and Jolene fed her little bits of sausage as she ate.

  Her cell phone rang, and she dug it out of her purse. “Good mornin’, Dotty. Are you survivin’ this ice storm?”

  “I’m fine, but the regular phone lines are down. We’re lucky we’ve got electricity. I’m just checkin’ in to see that you got home all right. It sounds like shotgun shells goin’ off all over town as the ice breaks down tree limbs. I tell you, it’s going to be a real mess to clean it all up,” Dotty said. “They’ve called off church services, and school has already been canceled for tomorrow. I guess we’re all iced in for the duration. How’re things there?”

  Jolene told her about the deer, having to walk home, and falling over Tucker right inside the door. “I’m not so sure your fate thing was right. After living with a drunk, I’m sure not lookin’ to hook up with this one.”

  Tucker staggered into the kitchen. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a fright. The only thing missing was the rancid smell of vomit on his breath.

  “Hangover cure?” Both his hands went to his head.

  She gave him a dirty look and crooked her finger for him to come closer. “Figure it out for yourself,” she yelled right into his face, and then turned her attention back to Dotty. “Sorry about that.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Dotty asked in her ear.

  “Why are you so mean? You fixed me the cure last time,” Tucker said.

  She poked him in the chest with her free hand. “It’s called tough love. If you want to wallow around in the past, get drunk and pass out on the floor, and make me fall when I come home, that’s your business. But I’m not your nurse or your mama.”

  “But you’re my partner,” he protested as he poured a cup of coffee.

  “That’s right, and right now your partner is talking to Dotty. When I get done, I’m going to turn on some music and start laundry. Then I’m going to vacuum my room. Lots of noise fixin’ to happen. You might want to start that cure.”

  Dotty’s laughter echoed across the room before Jolene even got the phone back to her ear. “I guess you’re not going to be an enabler again, are you?”

  “Nope. If he can’t stay sober enough to help his partner out so she doesn’t walk the equivalent of two city blocks in sleet and freezing rain, then his partner isn’t going to mollycoddle him because of a hangover.”

  “And we all thought he was getting better,” Dotty sighed.

  “Drunks are professionals at fooling people,” Jolene said.

  “Looks like you got your hands full. Call me later today and don’t back down,” Dotty said.

  “Will do. I’ve been through enough of this to last a lifetime. You stay warm now.” Jolene ended the call and poured herself a second cup of coffee. She carried it to the table and sat down to finish the last few bites of her breakfast.

  “You are evil,” Tucker groaned. “So I fell off the wagon. I had a good reason.”

  “No, you had an excuse. It’s pretty plain that you like this misery that you put yourself through, so you’re not getting a bit of sympathy from me,” she told him. “You know my past, but if you want to talk about reasons why I feel this way, we can go over it again. And just so you know, my truck is out at the end of the lane. I had to walk in freezing rain and sleet all the way to the inn at three o’clock in the morning, only to fall over your drunk ass when I tried to turn on the light. I’m plumb fresh out of sympathy, so make your own eggs and toast.”

  “That was real? I thought I was dreaming,” he muttered. “You wrecked your truck? Why?”

  “Look outside.” She carried her dirty dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher.

  He shielded his eyes and glanced out the window. “Good God! You drove home in that? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I did. You were passed out. And now I’ve got things to do.” She left the room with Sassy right behind her. “Your cat doesn’t even like y
ou this morning.”

  She heard him swearing and got a whiff of burned eggs. Then there was a scraping noise as he trashed those and started all over. She hadn’t felt such a surge of anger in years, not since her mother had passed. If only she could hit something—anything that would make noise. There was nothing but a small plastic trash can in the corner. With one well-placed kick, it went flying across the room and bounced off the wall, sending wadded-up balls of paper scooting across the floor. Sassy flew off the bed and attacked them as if they were mice, batting them under the bed and from one end of the room to the other.

  Even that didn’t put a smile on Jolene’s face. She hoped that he would move his ratty old trailer back to Marshall when they got finished remodeling. She’d gladly mail him his half of the profits if he just left.

  She couldn’t stay in her room all day. She had things to do, so she took a long, deep breath and headed toward the laundry room. That day, they wouldn’t wash their clothes together. She’d separate them and do only her things. He could damn well do his own.

  When she went back through the kitchen, he reached out to touch her arm.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you last night,” he said.

  “Prove it,” she said.

  “What does that mean? You knew that yesterday was a tough day for me. It was Melanie’s birthday,” he said.

  “And it’s her birthday the same day every year. Just like it was every year before she died. Are you going to get drunk every time? If so, I’ll mark it on the calendar so we don’t have guests that will stumble over you when they come downstairs for a cookie or a glass of milk,” she said.

  “I don’t like you so much right now,” he snapped as he stormed off toward the bathroom.

  “Well, I don’t like you at all,” Jolene said.

  She put her white clothes in the washer, and while the cycle ran, she dusted all the downstairs furniture, the pictures, and even the window ledge where a cardinal watched her through the glass. “You’re not going to make me feel guilty. More than two years is enough for him to pull up his bootstraps and get on with life.”

  When she finished, she went back through the foyer and into the utility room to get the vacuum. She heard water running in the shower. He’d better enjoy it, because if they lost electricity, there would be no hot water. But maybe an icy shower was exactly what he needed.

  When she came back through the kitchen, Tucker was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in his hands. His eyes still looked like hell. His hair still sported a few water droplets, but it had been combed. And he was wearing clean sweats, even if they didn’t match.

  “You said to prove it. Just exactly how do I do that?” His tone was still grumpy.

  “Don’t do it again,” she told him.

  “Ever?”

  “That’s right. Think about it. We have guests on a Saturday night and they come in late from a family reunion or a movie and stumble over your drunk ass in the foyer. That’s real good for business.”

  He sucked in air and let it out slowly. “You ever give your mama that speech?”

  “More times than I want to remember, only it was about being sober enough to go to work and get through her eight-hour shift five days a week. And what sent my last boyfriend, Johnny Ray, packing was the same problem. God hates me. He keeps putting you drunks in my path,” she said.

  He took a sip of coffee. “So how long do you stay mad when you get to this boiling point?”

  “Don’t know. A week. A month. I’ve never been this angry before,” she said.

  “Never?” He raised a dark brow.

  “Nope, because always before if I got mad, I could move out or kick whoever upset me out. I have to live with you, so it may take a while.”

  “Whew!” Tucker wiped his brow.

  “You caused it. Now live with it.” She left him sitting there as she went to her room to read a book for the rest of the afternoon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tupelo, Mississippi

  While Jasper made breakfast that morning, Sugar used the time to give Jolene a call. It rang four times before Jolene answered.

  “Did I call at a bad time?” Sugar asked.

  “Hey, darlin’ girl,” Jasper called out. “I’m makin’ chocolate-chip pancakes. Want me to send some over the phone?”

  Jolene sighed. “I wish you could send pancakes over the phone, or even just be here today. It’s never a bad time, Aunt Sugar. I’m glad you called this morning. I need to talk to you. I hope I handled a problem right. But maybe I just overreacted because of my past,” she said.

  Sugar poured another cup of coffee and said, “Tell me all about it, honey.”

  Jolene gave her a play-by-play and ended with, “So give me your straight-up, honest opinion.”

  “Ask yourself—are you mad at him because he reminds you of your mother in that same condition or maybe that last worthless boyfriend that promised you he’d change for your love? Or are you disappointed in him because you want more in a partner? What’s the underlying reason?” Sugar hated that Jolene was dealing with the same problem that she’d faced in the past. But being asked for advice sure made her feel good that morning.

  “Maybe all of the above,” Jolene said. “I’m not even sure I want to help him after last night. I tried to help Mama. And I tried to help my boyfriend. Neither worked, so why would I even try a third time? But if I wanted to, how do I go about it when he won’t help himself?”

  “Listen to your heart. It’ll guide you right,” she answered.

  “I’ve tried that before, and it—” Jolene started.

  Sugar butted in before she could say anything else. “Whoa, honey. Did you ever really, really listen to your heart?”

  “How do even I know when it’s talking to me?”

  “There’s peace.” Sugar wasn’t sure if she was talking to Jolene or to herself—maybe it was to both of them. The agitation in her heart right then could match Jolene’s for sure. She was tired of this roaming thing. She wanted her roots back.

  Tucker was in the denial stage on Monday. On Tuesday, he went to the anger stage. He was mad at Jolene for treating him like she had her mother. She had no rights over his life, even if he shouldn’t have gotten so drunk that he passed out on the floor. Maybe he should get some painter’s tape and divide the inn into two sections. He’d tell her what he did on his half of the inn was his business and not a damn bit of hers.

  On Wednesday he woke up thinking about Melanie. They’d had arguments, but they’d always settled things before bedtime, usually with some pretty fantastic makeup sex. The next couple of days, they might walk on a few eggshells around each other, but always by the end of the third day they’d be right back on familiar ground.

  This was the third day since Jolene had said, “Prove it.”

  The sun had come out the day before, and the temperature jacked up thirty degrees, from freezing on Monday to sixty on Tuesday. That was Texas weather for sure—Tucker wished it was Jolene weather, too. She was still hovering down there around the freezing point.

  The first bedroom was finished except for the border, and that was waiting to be picked up at the paint store in Marshall. Jolene had bought new sheets and bedspreads from a wholesale company online. That day they were in the process of hanging drywall in the second bedroom. The bathroom was in place and the closet framed out. This one was going faster than the first one, but then that’s what usually happened—after the first, Tucker knew all the little quirks of the house.

  Jolene did what needed to be done or what he needed her to do, most of the time before he even asked. But before it had been fun, and now it was a job. At midmorning, he finally had had enough. He felt bad enough about her having to walk in the bad weather, and then to find him passed out on the floor. But she wouldn’t even look him in the eye after two whole days. Anger, hissy fits, even throwing things he could deal with—but the disappointment in her eyes was killing him.

  “So how l
ong are we going to keep this up?” he asked.

  “I suppose until we get the remodeling done,” she answered.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” he shot back.

  “We haven’t even gotten past one weekend yet, so who knows?” She shrugged.

  There was only one thing to do if he wanted things back on the footing they’d had before. That was to show her that he wasn’t a drunk. He didn’t have to have liquor or beer. It was simply a numbing agent for the pain. He’d prove to her that he could do without it just to show her that he wasn’t like her mother or that rotten Johnny Ray.

  She finished what she was doing and left without saying a word. He put in the last small piece of drywall and started down to the kitchen. When he was halfway down the stairs, he caught a whiff of pot roast and his stomach growled. It wasn’t nearly noon, but he’d gotten spoiled with midmorning snacks. He found her sitting at the table poring over a set of big clothbound books filled with tidy handwriting.

  “What are those things?” he asked.

  “Aunt Sugar’s ledgers. She kept track of the business transactions by hand. We really should start using a computer program. The books say this place is a gold mine, if we recoup the loss due to the place getting run-down. And that’s drawing the equivalent of a teacher’s salary for each of us.”

  Teacher. Melanie. Why did she have to use that for a gauge?

  “Do we really need that much of a salary? If we took out less, we could get it paid back quicker and then share the profits at the end of each year.” He put the last slice of something she called hummingbird cake on a paper plate.

  “Go ahead and finish that off. I had ice cream for my break,” she said without looking up.

  He got a glass of sweet tea and carried it and the plate to the table. Finally, they were talking about something, and her expression had changed from disappointment to excitement. “So do we need an office? Anything we buy for it is a tax deduction.”