by Pat Dale
After a few minutes, she was calm enough to resume the short trip downtown. Anxious to tell Brad what happened, she pulled to a stop in front of the Express.
Sheila hurriedly loaded her arms with a bundle of brochure blanks and barreled full-speed into the pressroom. In calculated haste, she ran headlong into Brad and fell flat. The brochures scattered in all directions when she hit the floor and grabbed for her knee, moaning.
“Sheila? Are you okay?” He knelt beside her and looked at the scraped knee. Her skirt had risen to mid-thigh, giving him a good look at her shapely legs, not to mention more than a hint of lacy red underwear.
“I think so. Sorry, boss.”
“No problem. I just want to be sure you aren’t hurt.”
“Could you help me up, please?”
“Sure. Here, up you go.” He’d just gathered Sheila into his arms when the door popped open.
“Brad, I think I’m getting pretty good at this nego...” Hattie, who’d already launched into her explanation, stopped in mid-word when her eyes registered the scene.
Before he could speak, she raced out the door. “Hattie?”
Sheila’s eyes glowed darkly. “I think she’s upset, boss.”
“Yeah. I can see that. But why?”
“Beats me.”
Hattie’s fury exploded full blown. What is he doing with Sheila? Never mind! I don’t want to know. The jerk! Last night he told me he loved me and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. Now he has his arms full of that big blonde cow. On the floor in the paper office, of all places.
Did he tell her he loves her, too?
She spurred her car up the hill and into her drive. There was no need for her best clothes now. They’d done their job—very well. For all it mattered to that ape of an editor.
Some editor! Fooling around with his help!
Hattie allowed a moment to reflect on her meeting. A smile brushed her cheeks as she recalled how smug Barry Goodnow had been at first. Well, she’d wiped that smart-alecky look off his fat face, good and proper. That was why she’d been anxious to talk to Brad.
Her smile faded. “Rats!” she shouted and jumped out of the car. “Nothing but rats in this town. All of them.”
The suit and blouse ended on the bed as she shrugged into her jeans and an old sage-green sweatshirt. Once her feet were in leather moccasins, she headed back to the car on the run. Passing the church she recalled she was committed to visit on Sunday.
No way will I go anywhere with that rat. Not to a movie. Especially not to church.
She realized she’d need a good excuse, not to hurt Amelia’s feelings because of her son’s behavior. She drove mechanically through the narrow streets. The morning meeting had been all she’d hoped for, but now seemed to not even matter. The great pleasure of ramming Goodnow’s lowball bid up his pompous nose had been short-lived.
She was parking across from the Mercantile when Chuck Manley burst onto the sidewalk from the store, his face pale. In no mood for confrontation, she slumped in the seat, hoping he wouldn’t see her. She needn’t have worried. He’d made a beeline for the newspaper office.
Hattie couldn’t help wondering if the pair were finished with their antics. I hope not. It would serve them right. Great. All the rats in one place. Now, if I only had my flute, I could march them all into the river. The whole bunch of them!
* * *
Sheila’s calculated tumble cost her a slightly scuffed knee. Brad helped her into his chair and knelt down to apply Mercurochrome to the wound. The fact she’d worn a skirt today made his efforts easier. A black wool pleated skirt, pushed high on her hips at the moment, gave him a full view of her shapely legs. And beyond.
Her heavy bosom strained against the slinky silvery satin blouse. This was the day Sheila had chosen to let out all the stops in an effort to attract Brad’s attention. And good old Hattie had played right into her plans.
Much to her frustration, Brad seemed not to notice her feminine charms. Hattie, on the other hand, had captivated him even in that brief emotion-laden moment. In the scant seconds before she’d bolted out the door, the little redhead claimed his full attention.
He patted Sheila’s knee and got to his feet. “There. That should do it. You should be more careful.” In the same breath, he added, “Did you get a good look at Hattie? I mean, she was dressed to kill. I’ve never seen her in a skirt.”
Sheila gave him a look that could kill before answering, “Yeah, the little copperhead’s a regular fashion plate.”
The fact he’d also never seen her in a skirt hadn’t registered. Before she could make the pouty comment on her lips, Chuck Manley burst through the door, muttering to himself. “Hello, Mr. Mayor,” Sheila greeted him.
Brad noted Manley’s angry expression. “What’s wrong, Chuck? Those crazy kids from Farmville come up and teepee the school again?”
“Nah. Nothin’ that simple. Doggone it, Trimble, that silly girlfriend of yours has done it again.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Hattie.”
“I’m not sure Hattie would agree to being called my girlfriend. And I’d rather you called me Brad, if you don’t mind. What is it that she’s done again?”
“She made a fool of me to Wilson’s people.”
“A fool of you?” Brad stifled a guffaw. “Just how did she manage to do that?”
“She took their offer for her land, a good one I reckon, and more or less stuffed it up Barry’s nose.”
Sheila chimed in “Gee, I hope it fit.”
Manley barked, “Not funny, Sheila. It’s a lot of money and she just spit on it. Told ‘em what she’s willin’ to accept, but it’s like highway robbery.”
Brad’s eyes twinkled. Now he had an idea why Hattie had seemed so jubilant when she burst in. Still, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure why that changed so drastically and instantly. He turned his attention back to the mayor.
“Highway robbery it might be, but are you sure which is the robber and which the victim?”
“Now look here, Brad. These gentlemen are professionals. It’s their business to go in and buy property that can support a big operation. They know what land is worth.”
“I’m sure they do. And they also know how to squeeze a nickel until the buffalo hollers ‘eat fish’. They’re not known for magnanimous offers. Hattie may be justified in holding out for a better price."
“Maybe. But she’s really ticked them off. Gave them until Monday to meet her demand, or the price goes up ten percent a day. Can you believe that? They might just pull up stakes and head down the highway.”
“Would that be so bad? We were getting along just fine a week ago.”
“Yeah, but Wilson’ ll bring a lot of money to Leadburg. A whole lot of money.”
“That’s right. He will. And he’ll also take a whole lot of money out of town. Maybe even more than he brings in.”
“How you figure?”
“I’ve done some checking on their background. Surely you have too, being the mayor and all.”
“What? Background? Uh... Oh, yeah. Sure I have.”
“Then you surely know that only about half of the towns they build in could be considered economically advantaged after, say, five years.”
“Uh, well—sure. So what?”
“Are you a gambler, Mr. Mayor? Fifty-fifty odds doesn’t sound all that good to me.”
“Yeah, but there’s other factors, too. And that’s what’ll make Leadburg a winner. Goodnow and the others went over all this before they came here.”
“I see. So, what happens now?”
“Don’ know. Depends on Hattie. If she really holds them up, we may lose the doggone store.”
“Well, you’re going to lose a store, one way or the other.”
“I am? I mean, we are?”
“Sure. If Wilson is in, the Mercantile will fold.”
“Yeah. I guess it will. Only we’ll be a lot better off with the megacenter.”
&nbs
p; “Whatever you say, Chuck.”
“Look Brad, could you maybe talk to her? Tell her the long and short of things?”
“I’ll be glad to talk to her. But don’t count on my being much of an influence. Hattie marches to her very own drummer.”
“Hattie marches too? I don’ get it.”
Brad bit his lip to keep from laughing. “I didn’t think you would. I’ll talk to her.”
“Thanks. Today, if you get a chance.”
“Today…” Brad winked at Sheila, who’d taken in the whole exchange with her arms crossed, “…if I get a chance.” She met his grin with a nasty scowl.
Manley stretched his suspenders, pulling up the waist of his trousers, squared his shoulders with as much dignity as he could muster, and started for the front door. “Well, I gotta get going. Lots to do. See you, Brad. Miss Sheila.”
Brad grunted.
Sheila cooed, “Goodbye, Mr. Mayor.” After the door closed, she said, “Well, well. Sweet little Hattie’s gone and lit a fire under the pot for sure.”
“That she has. Now, let’s you and me just hope we’re not all in the pot when it comes to a boil.”
Chapter Nine
Hattie spent most of the last hour fumbling through the paperwork piled up on her desk, her mind still distracted by Brad and Sheila. Once she’d begun to understand how much she still cared for him, she realized there was good reason for her to settle down in Leadburg.
But if he was playing games it would be less painful to sell up and move away. Right away.
The phone startled her out of her moody pout. “Hello... Oh hi, Amelia. I’m fine... The meeting?
“It went great. Things couldn’t have gone better. What?
“Sure. I’d love to visit with you...
“For lunch? Okay. Will Brad be there? He won’t? Good. See you then.”
* * *
Amelia fixed tuna salad sandwiches with macaroni and cheese casserole. The women ate quickly, passing the time with light-hearted banter. When they’d finished, they carried their plates into the kitchen and began doing the dishes.
Hattie asked, “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes, dear. I thought you and I needed to talk, but it seems hard for you to concentrate with Brad around. That’s why I figured this little luncheon would be a good time for us.”
“It’s hard for me to do anything with Brad around.”
“Oh? Are you annoyed with him?”
“Not annoyed, exactly. More like confused.”
The lady’s soft blue eyes crinkled in a genuine smile. “Confused isn’t all that bad once you get used to it.”
“It isn’t? I’ve spent my whole life trying to think clearly. And when he's around, everything turns to fog.”
“My guess is that what you mean by clearly is when you’re in control. Am I correct?”
“Yes. I like being in control. What’s wrong with that?”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with it, until you let a man into your life.”
“There’s no man in my life.”
“Does that include my son?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I’d thought you two might be developing a special relationship.”
Hattie’s heart wanted to agree with Amelia, but her head couldn’t buy it. If he wanted a special relationship with her, why was he messing around with Sheila? “I don’t know what to say.”
“You know, dear, I had the same feeling about the two of you once before, about ten years ago. But then you shut him out of your life. I guess things haven’t changed, after all.”
“I didn’t shut him out of my life.”
“Oh, but you did. He was crushed. Came home and told me you’d rejected him.”
“He acted like it meant nothing.”
“That was his ego, dear. A man can’t let on that a woman has the power to make him want to give up and just die.”
“He wanted to give up and die? That’s why he took Julie to the prom? And gave her his ring? And acted like I didn’t mean a thing to him?”
“That’s why. That, and my poorly-timed advice.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I thought when you saw him with another girl you’d be jealous and come rushing back to him.”
“I wanted to. Oh, Amelia, I can’t tell you how much I wanted to do that.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“My mother. She was the reason I turned Brad down in the first place. She was afraid I might fall head over heels for a boy before I started college. Mom made me break it off.”
“Allene made you turn away from Brad?”
“Yes.”
“But what about Harry? From some of the things he’d said to me over the last few years, I’m sure his vision of the two of you was the same as mine.”
“You’re probably right. But it was too late. At least I thought it was.”
Something tugged at Hattie’s mind. What did Amelia just say about Harry talking to her about the two of us?
“Amelia? How well did you know my dad?”
A slight flush of embarrassment heightened the color in the lady’s cheeks. “Harry was a wonderful man. You knew him as a father, and he was a good one. I don’t think I have to tell you that. Lord knows, if I’d had a man like Harry, Brad might not be such an enigma to you.”
“You’ve done a fantastic job raising Brad. He's the kind of son any mom could be proud of.”
“Yes he is, and bless you for saying that, child. But what I’m trying to say is, I was fortunate enough to know Harry as a friend; a dear, sweet friend.”
“Brad was trying to explain the other day how he and Dad were very close over the last few years.”
“Yes, dear, they were. Almost like father and son. They worked together a lot.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Haven’t you noticed the fresh paint on your house?”
“Yes. I assumed Dad hired painters.”
Amelia chuckled. “Can you imagine a McCall paying someone else to do his work? No, Harry was twenty feet up a ladder one day when Brad dropped by. The next thing I knew, Brad came home and put on his skuzzy old jeans and sweatshirt and went back. The two of them painted that whole house in just three days.”
“Wow. Brad never said anything about it to me.”
“Harry asked him not to. Said it might make you feel guilty you weren’t a man so you could do your part.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Exactly the word I used. At any rate, a week later the two of them were over here giving our house the same treatment. Using the same paint, only reversed.”
“The trim color. That’s what it is. I knew there was something about the two houses.”
“After the painting was done, they started doing little interior repairs. Sometimes to your house, sometimes to mine. When they were over here, I kept them well fed. And when they were working at Harry’s, I packed nice lunches for them.
“There for a while I spent a lot of time at your house. And Harry spent a lot of time over here with me—with us.” She clamped her mouth shut at her slip and blushed.
“Amelia? Were you and my dad intimate?”
“You mean as lovers? No dear, we weren’t. But I loved Harry very much. I know, too, that he loved me. Very much, he loved and comforted me.”
“But why didn’t you get married? I’d have understood. You’re so much like Mom, you know, but softer.”
Tears cascaded down Amelia’s cheeks. “That’s just what Harry said.”
Hattie stepped closer and pulled Amelia into her arms. “You two would have been wonderful together. Didn’t you love him enough to marry him?”
“Oh child, just talking about it breaks my heart. Of course I loved him enough. We talked about it. A lot. We didn’t say anything to Brad, but I think he knew.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“One little thing. No, two things; one small and one
tall. You and Brad.”
“I could have handled it, and I’m sure Brad could, too.”
“Oh, yes. You could have handled it. But you see, Harry and I had a dream, a common dream. We agreed that you two should be together, but not as brother and sister. And if we married, we knew that would never happen. Tell me, Hattie, would you like to have Brad as your brother?”
“I don’t think so. We’d probably kill each other within a week.” A ripping pain shot through her at the thought. “So, I guess that tells the story of our relationship.”
“No, no. Only the part that would have been wrong.”
“I don’t understand. I just said we’d kill each other.”
“As brother and sister. As equals, it would be a rocky road for the two of you.”
“Equals? Don’t tell me you subscribe to that worn out theory about subservient women.”
“Not subservient. But submissive, that’s different.”
“This sounds a lot like the stuff I used to hear in church. You think a wife should be her husband’s slave just because she’s a woman?”
“No, dear. Not the least bit a slave. But there is a practical reason for the man to be considered the head of the household. If a woman is worth her salt, she’ll have no trouble at all gaining everything she could possibly want from the relationship.”
“She will?”
“Of course. Because the thing any man holds more dearly than anything else, if he truly loves her, is being able to please his wife. Think about it, Hattie. When you were growing up, did your mother ever want for anything?”
“No. I never thought about it before, but no. Not even when Mom made me break up with Brad. Dad tried to tell her it was a mistake, but she insisted. So he finally let her have her way.”
“Tell me something, dear. When you look at it this way, does all that old church talk sound so chauvinistic?”
“I guess not.”
“There’s no guesswork to it, Hattie. It’s all in God’s good book. Speaking of which, have you read Harry’s Bible lately?”
“No. I haven’t even seen it.”