Heart of Gold

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Not for now.”

  “How was Barrett’s reunion?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Unless you were a member of the unit, a boring time was had by all. He may have to go to the next marines reunion alone. Crystal settling back in?”

  “She seems to be. I’m just glad she’s home.”

  “So am I.” She gathered up her things and stood. These days, she was always in a hurry. “I’ll keep you in the loop on Thanksgiving.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Sheila.”

  With a waggle of her fingers she was gone.

  Two seconds later, Lily Fontaine July, administrative assistant extraordinaire, appeared in the doorway. “You’re not going to believe who’s here to see you.”

  “Who?”

  Too late. Austin Wiggins, the toupee-wearing mayor of the neighboring town of Franklin, bypassed Lily and approached her desk with a grin on his pumpkinesque face and his hand extended for a shake. “Hi, hon.”

  Bernadine sat back in her navy leather chair, crossed her arms, and eyed him coolly. His calling her “hon,” repeatedly disregarding her requests that he not address her in that manner, had gotten old. “What can I do for you, Mayor Hon?”

  He turned beet red.

  Bernadine noticed Lily cut him a scathing look before exiting.

  As always, Bernadine didn’t offer him a seat. If she had her way, he wouldn’t be there long enough to need one. But as always he stood there looking uncomfortable for a moment, then sat down. He’d traded in his usual shiny-with-age black suit for an orange-and-brown-tweed sport coat with gray leather patches on the elbows. She heard he’d given a two-hour seminar on small government at the community college a few weeks ago, so she guessed he now fancied himself a college professor. The pants were a cheap gray flannel, and on his feet, brown penny loafers, complete with pennies. He hadn’t ditched the roadkill that passed for hair on his head, however.

  “I hear you’re throwing a wingding on Friday to open the new grocery.”

  “We are.”

  “That store will be direct competition for the store over in Franklin.”

  “And?”

  “Are you trying to put us out of business?” he asked with a smile as fake as the possum on his head. “You have the new school, all our seniors are members of your senior center, and lots of Franklin people come to your movies on Friday nights.”

  “So you want us to put up signs saying, ‘No Franklin Residents Allowed’?”

  “No!” His eyes were wide.

  “Just checking. Why are you here, Mr. Wiggins?”

  “I’m wondering why I didn’t get an invitation to the shindig on Friday. Seems like everyone else in the county did.”

  “Think about it.”

  His eyes met her steely regard. “You can’t still be mad about that Big Box misunderstanding?”

  Bernadine fought to remember if she’d taken her blood pressure pill that morning. “Misunderstanding,” she echoed doubtfully.

  He offered a fake laugh. “Sure it was.”

  “The way I remember it, you took me to court on a bogus claim that made Judge Davis so angry I’m surprised she didn’t remand you straight to Leavenworth.”

  He quickly broke eye contact. The lawsuit had been so ridiculous the judge promised him jail should he ever waste the court’s time with such foolishness again. “So why would I invite you?”

  “To prove there’s no hard feelings?”

  She shook her head at his audacity.

  “Look. I know we’ve had issues in the past, but consider inviting me as a way to bury the hatchet for the sake of our two communities.”

  She didn’t bite.

  “How’s it going to look if the mayor of your neighboring town isn’t in attendance?”

  “Why’s being invited so important?”

  “Because I should be at your side, showing the rest of the county how progressive we are here in Henry Adams.”

  “We?”

  “Well, you, the area. You know what I mean.”

  Bernadine had no idea what he was up to, but she’d rather keep him in sight than behind her back, bent on something sneaky. She also reminded herself of Reverend Paula’s sermon. Kindness over rightness. “Okay. In the spirit of local cooperation, I’ll have an invitation sent to your office. You should have it in hand before Friday.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Brown. I appreciate it.” He stood. “I’ll let you get back to your afternoon.”

  She nodded. He exited. She wondered what he was up to.

  Trent July and Barrett Payne entered a short time later. Barrett had become the town’s operations manager. He maintained the street lighting and the network of surveillance cameras installed after the devastating fire set by Odessa Stillwell. He also acted as the fire marshal and handled everything else along those lines, which in turn freed Trent, the town’s mayor, to concentrate on coordinating the town’s ongoing construction projects. She’d racked her brains for years to come up with a way to keep the retired marine busy, and his new position was turning out to be a perfect fit.

  “Gary and I just finished the walkthrough of the store with the state health inspector,” Trent began. “He’s signed off on the paperwork, and said Gary can start stocking the store whenever he’s ready.”

  “And I did a preliminary run on the store’s surveillance cameras,” Barrett added. “We finally have them positioned properly so that the entire store, from the milk coolers to the checkout lines, is covered. Should help if Gary has to deal with thefts—which he probably will.”

  Bernadine agreed. There wasn’t a store in the nation immune from people with sticky fingers, and she knew theirs wouldn’t be an exception.

  “He’ll need some extra hands to help stock the shelves and coolers, though,” Trent pointed out. “I’m going to volunteer Amari and his crew. We also have some workers being sent over by a temp agency, but pretty much anyone willing to lend a hand is welcome.”

  “Good. I’ll have Lily send out e-mails and make some calls to see if we can’t get as many people involved as possible.” Like everyone else, Bernadine was looking forward to being able to shop in town instead of having to drive all over east-west hell to get what she needed. “Does he have his employees ready to go?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “Okay. Anything else on the stove right now?”

  “Nope.”

  “Trent, you’ll need to do a short speech about the store at the reception.”

  He nodded. “No problem.”

  “Then I believe we’re done. Thanks, gentlemen.”

  They filed out.

  Alone again, she turned back to her laptop. She’d set up college funds for both Eli and Crystal, and she was checking the numbers to see how much interest they were drawing. If all went well, both would be leaving the nest come fall to pursue the next chapter of their lives. Eli and his dad, Jack, had moved from California to Henry Adams two years ago, so he wanted to get back to the West Coast and had applied only to schools there. Crystal had sent applications to institutions on both coasts, and to all the top art schools. Bernadine was so glad the teenager had come to her senses and not thrown away her future just because she missed the smell of hamburgers.

  Lily stepped in. “We finally got the bill for Bing’s hospital stay. Here’s what his Medicaid didn’t cover.”

  Bing’s leg had been broken by flying debris from the Odessa Stillwell fire. The doctors had put it in a cast and sent him home, but he wound up having surgery when complications set in from tiny slivers of metal embedded in the skin that were somehow missed during the initial diagnosis.

  Bernadine looked at the surprising total, then up at Lily, who cracked, “Being elderly in this country can put you in the poorhouse.”

  The bill reached into the thousands. “Okay. Just send the payment.”

  “Will do.” Lily dropped into one of the chairs. “What did Squirrel Head Wiggins want?”

  “To be added to the guest list for Friday’
s reception.”

  “Why?”

  “To further cooperation between our communities, or some such nonsense.”

  “You told him to take a long walk off a short pier, right?” When she didn’t reply, Lily declared, “You’re way too nice.”

  “I know, but I’m trying to work Paula’s sermon into my life. Besides, if Wiggins is up to no good, I’d rather have him out front where I can see him.”

  Lily crossed her arms. “True, but still way too nice. And our Crystal? You two talked yet about her grand adventure?”

  Bernadine told her what she knew and how remorseful Crystal seemed to be.

  “Do you think she learned anything?”

  “If nothing else, she learned that trying to be grown up means you need to know your social security number.”

  Lily chuckled, then asked, “So is your sister coming to the meeting tonight? Can’t wait to meet her.”

  In response to the area men forming a support group they called Dads Inc., the women had recently formed a group of their own. It had no name yet, but they were hoping to come up with something at Tamar’s this evening during the first meeting. “She’s coming. I’m hoping all the strength and purpose in the room will rub off on her.”

  “That’s kind of cryptic. Is something wrong with her?”

  “To be fair, I’m going to let you form your own opinion.”

  “Uh-oh. She must have issues.”

  “Not saying another word.”

  “Bernadine, if she’s crazy we should know in advance. You know Tamar keeps her shotgun loaded.”

  Bernadine laughed. “Go back to work.”

  “As the kids say in text speech: IJS.”

  “Which means.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “That’s what that means? Crystal will text me that sometimes, but I’ve had too much adult pride to ask what the heck the letters stood for.”

  “IKR. I know, right?”

  Amused, Bernadine asked, “How do you know this stuff?”

  “Amari and Preston. To stay one step ahead, I have to keep up.”

  “I guess. Well, thanks. I learned something today.”

  “Any time.”

  When Lily exited, Bernadine was still marveling over her newfound knowledge. “IJS. Who knew?”

  Zoey usually spent Monday after school helping Amari and his dad at the garage. Devon helped out as well, but only because Mr. Trent gave him no choice. But on this particular Monday, Zoey had other plans. She’d been told by Tamar and her mother not to visit Mr. Patterson, but her urge to make sure he was okay outweighed the directives. If she got caught and had to paint the fence, so be it.

  So after school was dismissed, rather than pedal with the July boys down the street to the garage, she told Amari she was going to the rec instead.

  He nodded. “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  He and Devon pushed off for the garage, and as Preston and the Clark sisters, Leah and Tiff, pedaled toward the new grocery store, Zoey rode toward the rec. Hoping no one inside would see, she rode by it and over the open grass towards the road that ran in front of Miss Marie’s place. When Amari got his new bike over the summer, Zoey’d convinced him to give her the old one because unlike her Barbie version, his was a scaled-down mountain bike. It was designed to handle the uneven open field, and although she was bounced around, the tires on it were awesome.

  Pedaling fast because she knew she had to get back to town before anyone got suspicious, she hooked a left at the famous Jefferson fence and rode on. To her left was the mound of rubble that used to be Ms. Genevieve’s home until Cletus the hog trashed the place and it had to be condemned. Passing it, she hung a right. She was pretty certain Mr. Bing and Mr. Clay were in town, so she skirted their empty pens and kept going. Her legs were tiring. Mr. Patterson’s place hadn’t seemed this far when riding with Tamar in Olivia, and she wasn’t looking forward to having to ride all the way back, but finally the old house came into view. When she got close enough, she got off the bike and gently laid it down. Taking the apple she’d saved from her lunch, she repositioned the napkin around it and, walking quickly, set it down in the spot outside the fence where Tamar had placed the grocery bags. She was glad to see that the bags weren’t there, which meant he’d taken them inside. Backing away now, she thought she saw him watching her from behind the curtains in the front window, but she didn’t want to peer too closely. Mission accomplished, she hopped back on the bike and pedaled like mad toward town.

  C H A P T E R

  7

  How do I look?”

  Bernadine surveyed the voluminous gold scarf draped around her sister’s neck; the pricey red sweater peeking from beneath the midriff-cut black leather jacket; the matching leather pants; the stiletto boots, and the gold in her ears and on her wrists. “You look fine, but this is a pretty casual affair we’re going to.”

  “So I’m overdressed?”

  “Just a bit.”

  “Good. Then I’ll make a good impression. I don’t want your friends to think I’m poverty-struck.”

  Bernadine glanced over at Crystal, seated at the kitchen table looking through a new cookbook that had come in the day’s mail. Crystal rolled her eyes and went back to viewing recipes.

  In the truck on the way over, Diane had questions. “So are these women farmers’ wives?”

  “No. Most are retired from one thing or another. Roni Moore lives here too, and she’ll be there.”

  “Roni Moore the singer?”

  “Yes. She and her husband are adoptive parents.”

  “And they live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  Bernadine was glad she’d found something impressive about Henry Adams—besides Mal, of course. “She and her husband are nice people.”

  “I wonder if she adopted because she can’t have kids of her own?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I’ll ask her.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why not? Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Diane didn’t seem to care for that, so Bernadine broke it down. “Suppose a stranger walked up to you and asked why Harmon filed for divorce?”

  “I’d tell them the truth—that he’s having a midlife crisis and will be begging me to take him back within six months.”

  Bernadine stared. “You really believe that?”

  “Of course,” Diane replied, as if the question had been a stupid one. “Harmon can’t cross the street or tie his shoes without my help. He’ll come to his senses soon.”

  The reply made Bernadine wonder just how deep Diane’s denial went. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not, so end of conversation.”

  When they reached Tamar’s, all the cars parked out front seemed to suggest everyone had already arrived.

  “Why are you meeting in this old place?” Diane asked. “Who lives here?”

  “Mal’s mother, Tamar.”

  She perked up. “Will he be here, too?”

  “No.”

  Inside, Bernadine was immediately bombarded with questions about Crystal. “I’ll get to that in a minute. Let me introduce my sister, Di, first.”

  After the introductions were done, Diane said, “My real name is Diana, and I’m so pleased to meet you. Thank you for being Bernie’s friends. She didn’t have many when we were growing up.”

  Everyone froze.

  Roni raised her wineglass in mock tribute. “Wow. We didn’t know you had such a neat sister, Bernadine.”

  Apparently the sarcasm sailed right over Diane’s head, because she replied, “Thanks. I was head cheerleader back in high school and had a ton of friends. I really felt sorry for her.”

  “Lots of friends and a big heart. How interesting.” Genevieve added, “You must be so proud of yourself, Diana.”

  “I am.”

  Bernadine removed her coat, placed it on
the chair with the others, and headed straight for the wine set up on a card table on the far side of the room. She needed a drink.

  “Are you married, Diana?” Sheila asked. By then Diana was standing beside Bernadine and eyeing the selection of beverages. She showed Sheila a false smile. “No. I’ve recently divorced my husband.”

  Bernadine paused in midpour. She turned her sister’s way, but Diane was focused on reading the label of the wine bottle in her hand. Her face pained, she leaned over and whispered to Bernadine, “Where on earth did these country bumpkins get this no-name wine?”

  Bernadine whispered back, “From my cellar. It’s a 1966 Petrus Bordeaux. Bought it at an auction for a thousand bucks.” She loved the startled expression, but by then she was too through, so she stalked off to claim one of the empty chairs.

  Lily came over and stood at her side. “Opinion formed.”

  Bernadine watched Tamar walk over to Diane and strike up a quiet conversation. “And your verdict?”

  “Like Roni said, wow.”

  “I know.” Apparently Diane wasn’t liking whatever Tamar was saying. She tried to move away, only to find herself gently taken by the arm.

  Roni drifted over to where Bernadine was seated too. Apparently she, like everyone else in the room, was discreetly eying the interaction between Tamar and Diane. In a singsong voice reminiscent of the kids, she offered quietly, “Somebody’s in trouble.”

  Bernadine nearly choked. “Go away before you make me spill this thousand-dollar wine.” As she’d mentioned to Lily earlier, she thought Diane might benefit from rubbing elbows with their friends. Instead, she’d set them on edge straight out of the gate. Opinion formed.

  Since it was Sheila’s idea to form the ladies’ group, she opened the meeting. “My reason for wanting to found this organization is so we can get together and relax.”

  “And drink Bernadine’s fabulous wine,” Marie cracked, to much laughter.

  Bernadine watched her sister finally move away from Tamar and take a seat. Diane’s stormy face mirrored the way the kids sometimes looked when Tamar called them out for their behavior. On the other hand, Tamar, who’d taken a seat on the sofa, didn’t appear the least bit upset. Then again she never did.