Henrietta's Heart

by Pat Dale

  Try as she might, she could muster no enthusiasm for what had to be done. Then she remembered promising to go to church with Brad and Amelia.

  No way she’d ever sit next to that rat in church after what she’d seen last night. Besides, as far as she knew he might still be ‘out of town’ with his big blonde babe.

  Several times, she tried to pick up the phone and call Amelia to beg off, but she couldn’t even do that. Amelia would want to know why she changed her mind. There was no way she could tell her. It was bad enough that he did what he did. But that was between him and Sheila.

  None of my affair. He’s made his bed for sure this time!

  It was torture to get dressed, much less think about what needed to be done downtown. But, it had to be done.

  * * *

  Hattie was struggling with the candy counter when she heard someone tapping on the door. She stepped into the aisle and saw Brad peering in.

  Her heart leaped instinctively, before she recalled why he’d again been relegated to the lowest form of life on the planet. Her first impulse was to run to the door and throw it open. But then she remembered she didn’t have a gun.

  The nerve of the man, showing his face around here.

  She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. He tapped again and waved. He’d seen her! Hattie held her ground, though. No way was she going to let him anywhere near her.

  “Hattie! Let me in. I’ve got great news!”

  She trudged up the aisle, lips pressed together. As he repeated his message and waited, she stopped, still ten feet from the door. “Go away, Brad! Leave me alone!”

  “Hattie? What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t? I’ve got work to do, and I’m not going to waste any more of my time on you.”

  “Hattie! I need to talk to you.”

  “You need to talk to me? Why? To tell me more of your lies? Go away!”

  She turned and retreated to the rear of the store. Only after she was out of the main aisle did she look back. He stood there with a dejected look on his face. Something inside her wrenched painfully at his expression.

  He remained there for a good three minutes before turning away. She waited until he’d been gone some time to return to work. Tears streamed down her face, though she told herself it was her own fault for trusting him again.

  * * *

  Left with nothing to do and nobody to talk to, Brad went to the Express and let himself inside. Familiar as it was, the office seemed strangely awkward now. Nothing like the Gazette.

  When he stepped into the pressroom, he shook his head. The ancient presses that had once appealed to him were depressing. He sat at his desk to write the editorial he’d contemplated earlier in the week.

  As he attempted to collect his thoughts, he reflected Hattie was probably angry because he hadn’t told her where he was going. She’d get over it. Thinking about her wild moods made him smile. As twisty and windy as a Missouri back road, and every bit as pretty, too. She’s enough to keep a man excited all his life. This man, for sure.

  He relaxed into his words as his pen raced over the pad in front of him. Time for thoughtful consideration was past. It was time for decisive action, no feelings spared. Other than his mom and Hattie, he no longer felt any kind of attachment to Leadburg.

  At the thought of his mother, he paused. What would she think about his moving away? Surely, he could find a place for her in Farmville. But would she leave the house that meant so much to her for most of her life?

  And what about Hattie?

  Would she be willing to share a home with Amelia? They seem to get along very well together. But she’s awfully independent. If she refuses to do that, can I allow Mom to live by herself?

  Suddenly troubled by the uncertainty, he put the pen down and scowled. Things were much simpler before Hattie came back to town.

  Simpler maybe, but duller. A brief wisp of a smile crossed his face. Nothing dull about Hattie. Now life was exciting. Complicated and uncertain. But exciting.

  He walked across the room to the composition desk. While contemplating what life with Hattie would be like, his eyes traveled over the plates on the table.

  Romantic notions blurred as he scanned the plates. The ad Barry Goodnow had sent by way of Manley met his stunned gaze! Sheila apparently went ahead and set it up to run as an insert in the paper. His ears began to burn.

  Not only had he refused to okay the ad, but he told Sheila he didn’t approve and wouldn’t print it. Why had she gone ahead without his permission? Brad’s face flamed as his temper raced out of control. And the woman had stomped out of the place in a fit of temper, besides.

  It was time to clear the air.

  He was about to dump the plates when he noticed they’d been freshly inked. Then he saw the stack of paper in the back corner of the room. She’s already run the presses! By herself! The ad was ready to insert into this week’s paper.

  “Stubborn doggone woman! Since when does she run this paper?”

  He stomped past his desk and outside, slamming the door behind him. Able assistant or not, he had to deal with this. If he fired her, could he and Joel keep the paper going? If he didn’t fire her, what would she do next? No, she had to go.

  Or maybe it’s time for me to go. The devil with this town. Hattie, too, if she stays on her high horse.

  He replayed the offer he’d already negotiated. A fresh start in a new town was just what the doctor ordered.

  * * *

  Hattie almost fell out of bed, startled by the alarm. She stared at the clock for several seconds before turning it off. It was already daylight but it felt like she’d hardly slept. The unanswered phone calls hadn’t helped. It was Brad, of course. There was no way she was listening to him again.

  Uncomfortably aware of another series of horrible dreams that kept her tense all night, she stumbled to her feet and wobbled to the window. The ground outside was covered with fresh snow.

  Good. I’m in the mood for a snowy Monday.

  She showered and put her hair up in a bun. A search of her closet revealed her most severe dress suit. After primping herself to mature perfection, she drove to the store.

  There was no way of knowing, but she expected Barry Goodnow would contact her before the day was over. If he did, she wanted to be ready. He and his gang would find out who they were dealing with for certain this time.

  It was well past nine before she entered the Mercantile. That was okay. She hadn’t done nearly all she’d planned on the previous day. That was okay, too. Once Brad left, she’d been in too much of a funk to do much of anything.

  Gerald was waiting with a message. “Morning, Hattie. A man called a few minutes ago. Said it was real important.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Barry Goodnow, he said.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Gerald. I’ll call him from my office.”

  A twinkle flashed in her eyes as she climbed the stairs. So he thought it was important, huh? Well, she could make it even more so. More painful, too.

  “Good morning, Mr. Goodnow.” She put a hint of sunshine in her voice.

  “Morning, Hattie. I see you got my message.”

  “Yes. What was it that you wanted?”

  “About your offer to sell, I’ve been in touch with the home office and I have a counteroffer for you. Would you like to meet up here to discuss it?”

  “I don’t know whether that will be necessary, Barry. Just give me your offer over the phone. If we agree to terms, I’ll come up and sign the papers. If we don’t agree, I’m not going to waste half my day chasing rainbows.”

  “You said you’d accept five-hundred-thousand, but we realize that’s just sharp negotiating and you can’t be serious about that figure. On the other hand, we want to deal in good faith, so I’ve convinced our team to offer you four-hundred-thousand. That’s a fine offer, Hattie, and one I’m sure you’ll want to think over very carefully.”

  “You’re right. On a beautiful snowy day like thi
s I can think carefully. Quickly, too. The answer is emphatically no!

  “You see, I actually was quite serious about my original offer. Besides, that offer now stands at five-hundred-fifty-thousand. Remember the ten-percent penalty I mentioned? It’s Monday mid-morning and I hadn’t heard from you all weekend. Feel free to call me back when you truly want to be serious.”

  She dropped the phone into its cradle. Think their offer over very carefully? “Ha!”

  Hattie released the breath she’d sucked in. Four-hundred grand was a lot of money. Should she hold out for more?

  For a short moment, she was ready to grab the phone and call the man back. But then she remembered, this tactic was the only way to figure out what the land was truly worth to them. There’d be time enough to accept when they reached their absolute limit. Until then, there was no obligation to consider anything.

  Including being reasonable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday started gray and gloomy in the eastern Ozarks. Light snow drifted by while Brad stared out the dining room window. His breakfast sat untouched as he brooded about what he should do with the paper. And, Hattie.

  Five attempts to contact her by phone the previous evening had been ignored. He was desperate to tell her about the weekend, though he was beginning to believe it no longer mattered. He downed his coffee and grabbed his jacket.

  “Are you going to work now, dear?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m going down to the office. There are a few last things left to do.”

  “So you’re still planning on leaving the paper?”

  “I have to. This place isn’t right for me any more.”

  “But, what about Hattie?”

  “What about her?”

  “I just thought you two might—”

  “She’s made it pretty clear she isn’t interested in what I have to say.”

  “I can’t imagine that. She’s upset about something. Give her time.”

  “I have given her time. Lots of time. Don’t you think ten years is long enough? Mom, I can’t wait around and do nothing for the rest of my life. There’s a good newspaper waiting for me down in Farmville and some nice folks who need me.”

  “What about me? You think I don’t need you?”

  He ducked his head and stared at the pattern on the old carpet, trying to gather his thoughts. It was the question he’d dreaded, and one he had no good answer for.

  “I love you, Mom. I don’t want to take you away from here, but I can’t stay in Leadburg another day. I have to go. Can’t we talk this out later?”

  “Yes, dear child, we can. You go on and do whatever it is you have to do. When you get home, we can work it out.”

  He strode across the room, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. “I love you. We’ll talk tonight. I promise.”

  He bounded out the door and down the steps without looking back. Amelia walked slowly to the window and watched as he climbed into the Jeep and disappeared out of the drive. After he was gone she dropped onto the divan, tears welling up.

  * * *

  Sheila was in the back room, sitting at his desk, when he arrived. He glared at her without saying a word. She got to her feet and moved around the desk.

  “Morning, Brad. Kinda slick out today.”

  “Yeah. Speaking of slick, it’s pretty slick the way you made yourself at home, Sheila.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know very well what I mean. I found the ads. Now you’re sitting in my chair like you own the place.”

  “Sorry, boss. I was doin’ what I thought needed done.”

  “Including printing an ad I told you not to?”

  “We talked about that the other day. I figured you’d have come to your senses by now. You know we need the income.”

  He circled around the woman, listening to someone who had just become a total stranger. Her southern drawl had vanished, along with her classic ‘what me worry’ attitude.

  “We don’t need dirty money. We’re not that desperate.”

  “I think we are.”

  “I don’t care what you think. It’s my paper, and we’re going to print what I say. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Only one.” The smile disappeared from her face. “The part about doing what you say because it’s your paper.”

  “It is my doggone paper!”

  “We could change that.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Sell me the paper, Brad. I’ll buy you out. That way you won’t have to worry about your stupid conscience any more. And neither will I.”

  “What are you going to use for money?”

  “I have a backer.”

  “Oh, really? Who?”

  “Chuck.”

  “Chuck Manley? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “No, I’m not kidding. We talked about it Saturday. Name your price and we’ll meet it.”

  “Manley couldn’t buy a subscription, much less the whole paper. Who’s really behind this?”

  “We have solid backers, Brad. You don’t need to worry about the details. If you’re concerned about our money being good, we’ll pay you with a certified cashier’s check. What do you say?”

  His muscles relaxed as he dropped into his chair. It was the perfect solution. She didn’t know it yet, but she’d just bought herself a paper. He looked up and smiled. “Let me finish a few things I have to do. Then I’ll give you an answer. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Her eyes were bright as she settled back into the old familiar drawl. “I’ll just mosey out front and tidy up a little while you’re doin’ your thing, boss.”

  After watching her exaggerated hip-swing, he turned his attention to the unfinished editorial. She’d no doubt read what he’d written already but it didn’t look as though she’d done anything to it. He finished it, and then added a farewell to the community. He gave no reason for leaving other than having a new opportunity too good to pass up.

  Thirty minutes later, he called for Sheila. “I’ve written my goodbye message. I’ll sell the Express to you on condition you print the message and my editorial in this week’s edition. With no changes in either.”

  “I’ll do that, Brad. And thank you.”

  “You haven’t heard my terms yet. Don’t you think it’s early to be thanking me?”

  “No. I trust you. You always were too nice for your own good. I know you won’t hold me up. It’s too bad we aren’t better suited for each other, Brad. We’d have been one amazing team.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I am too nice. Or I was. Between you and Hattie, I’ve finally figured out just how much other people care about my wellbeing. No more ‘Mister Nice Guy’ for me.”

  She cackled. “Oh, Brad, you couldn’t be a bad guy if you tried. You’re the original Mr. Clean.”

  “Mr. Clean, huh? Want to know how much Mr. Clean expects to get for his little newspaper?”

  “Yeah. Lay it on me, boss.”

  “Two-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars and it’s yours, lock stock and barrel.” He’d named the exact price he’d agreed to pay for the paper in Farmville.

  “Two-hundred-fifty grand? That’s doable.”

  “Certified cashier’s check. Payable tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have it. And thanks.”

  “I already told you not to thank me. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

  “Oh, I think I do. Want to shake on it?”

  “We don’t need to do that. I have your word. Don’t I, Sheila?”

  “You have my word. I’ll have your money in the morning.”

  “Good. Now, I’ve got some things to do.”

  He flew out the door and headed for the Mercantile. His plan was in motion and it was time to let Hattie in on it. Whether she was interested or not.

  He’d rushed through the door of the store and was on his way back to the stairs when he saw her—them. She stood at the top of the landing in the arms of a tall blond man; a stranger. As Brad skidded to a halt,
the man kissed her on the lips.

  Part of him wanted to rush up and knock the guy to the floor. Another part wanted to race out the door and out of her life forever. He froze in his tracks when the stranger lifted his head and kept his arms around her. Her face was flushed with delight as she gazed up into the man’s face. Brad turned away, trudging slowly back up the aisle and out into the slushy sloppy morning.

  * * *

  “Tom Millstone! I haven’t seen you forever. What in the world are you doing in Leadburg?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and decided to look you up. You look wonderful, Hattie. More beautiful than ever.”

  “Beautiful, huh? You always were too free with your compliments. But it’s great to see you. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  “And Denise? How’s my old college roommate?”

  Tom’s face lit up. “Dee’s great. She’s a mother now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. We have a little girl.”

  “Oh, Tom, that’s wonderful. Where do you guys live?”

  “I’m the superintendent of schools in Arcadia Valley.”

  “That’s super. I always knew you’d do well. So, why are you really here today, Tom? It’s not a holiday, is it?”

  “Nope. Truth is, Miss Henrietta McCall, I need a good English teacher in the worst way. I just thought you might know someone who could help me out with my problem.”

  The glow left Hattie’s face and her mind screamed into overdrive. Was he going to ask her to move to Arcadia Valley to teach?

  Tom had been the only boy other than Brad she’d ever had a serious romantic notion about. They’d dated a few times without approaching intimacy. Then he’d used her friendship to cement his budding romance with her roommate. She hadn’t seen either of them since graduation. And now, here he stood.

  “I’m not in the teaching profession any more, Tom.”