What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1)

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

  “Really? Well, you tell her if anyone bothers her, she needs to tell me and I will put a stop to it. That is a fine woman right there. I won’t stand for nobody harassin’ my friends.”

  “Well, that’s nice, Eustace, I’ll tell her you said so.”

  “Who is it, do you know? That just bothers me, somebody messin’ with a fine woman like Dottie.”

  “I do know, but she swore me to secrecy. You know how she is.”

  “Yea, she is a fine woman. Too fine to be tattlin’ on anybody, even some ol’ banty rooster who comes a-callin’. Well, I’ll be watchin’, I can tell you that,” Eustace said, scratching his head with the brim of his hat still clutched tight in his fist.

  “So, why are you looking for me today, Eustace?” LouWanda asked, her face a mask of self-control. It wasn’t Christian to tease, but sometimes it was too hard to resist.

  “Oh,” Eustace said, “I am trying to get some information on Beanie Bradsher’s lottery winnings, so I came to you.”

  “Me? Why not go straight to Beatrice yourself?”

  “Tried that already. You’re the next best thing; you know everybody’s business.”

  “Touché,” said LouWanda.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothin’, Eustace.”

  7

  In a Pickle

  While the town was busy speculating over Beanie Bradsher’s lottery winnings, Will was cleaning up the vestiges of breakfast for The Château’s overnight guests. Beanie, being a full-time boarder, generally either helped Will cook and serve, or took care of fixing her own breakfast, which usually consisted of fruit and cereal. This morning Will was surprised when Beanie slept in again. He meant to ask about it, but thought he might be overstepping the boundaries of their friendship, if friendship is what it was.

  Beanie arrived on Will’s doorstep not long after Marie’s death. Several large storms crossed the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia, causing all of the surrounding rivers to rise to record levels. At first, only the roads to the riverfront homes were inaccessible. Some locals moved to area motels, others took events like this in stride and simply boated in and out; most homeowners near the river kept canoes and small motor boats for just such occasions. Beanie lived in a small ramshackle house in one of the flood zones and, since a bicycle was her only mode of transportation, she moved out immediately. Will offered pro-rated monthly rates to locals needing temporary shelter, and it was one of the few times all the rooms were rented at once. He learned fairly quickly the town was too small and the setting too rural to sustain a bed and breakfast of this size. There were enough visitors to keep the place running, but not enough to see a profit of any kind.

  After the flood waters went down, Will took Beanie to check on her home. It was ruined – uninhabitable – and Beanie had no insurance on the place. So Beanie and Will made a deal for her to stay at The Château. He needed full-time help and she needed a place to live, so it worked out for both of them. In fact, she had come to his rescue twice already. It seemed there was nothing Beanie couldn’t do. One Sunday morning, Will burned the breakfast frittata beyond repair and, with no stores open in town until noon, he was just praying he would have enough cornflakes to feed his guests. Beanie scrounged through the kitchen, pulled out a bag of frozen tater tots and a can of mushroom soup and, with the sausage she could salvage from the middle of the frittata, whipped up a huge breakfast casserole for the six hungry divers upstairs. On another occasion, a guest dropped a diamond earring into a floor vent. When Will took the cover off, he could see the gemstone glinting down in the bottom of the airshaft, but nothing they had was both long enough to reach it and nimble enough to grab it. With a hair elastic, Beanie secured a nylon stocking over the nozzle of the shop-vac and fed the hose into the air vent, sucking the little earring into the pantyhose net. Will began to think there was no end to what Beanie could do, and he wasn’t sure how he ever managed without her.

  He was cutting fruit for the next morning’s breakfast when Beanie walked into the kitchen carrying a bushel box of cucumbers.

  “Hey, Bean.” Will looked up and smiled wearily. “Where’d those come from?”

  “Found ‘em out on the porch with a note. Apparently Useless brought ‘em by for me. Says his mama grow’d ‘em, but I’m doubtin’ that. She ain’t worked her garden for years now. Prob’ly stole ‘em outta somebody’s field.”

  “Is he still after you to go out on a date?”

  “Lord, Will, he’s after anything on two legs. You know what they say, eight to eighty… I’ve done everything I know to discourage him, but he acts like he don’t hear a word. Either that or he don’t have good sense.”

  “Do you need me to talk to him?” Will was genuinely concerned.

  “And say what?” Beanie asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Something about his intentions being unwelcome?”

  “That’d kinda be like tellin’ a pit bull not to gnaw on a bone. I’ll just keep avoiding him.”

  “It’s a small town, Bean. How long can you keep that up?”

  “Long as it takes, I reckon. You want these? I can’t even look at ‘em without gaggin’.”

  “I could make refrigerator pickles,” Will said. “I got some sweet onions at the market.”

  Beanie pulled up a chair and sat down with a sigh.

  “You wash. I’ll slice,” she said.

  “Tell you what,” Will said, “when we finish these and get them in to soak, let’s go down to the café for lunch. It’s Wednesday…”

  Beanie’s spine straightened. She slapped the counter with both hands. “Baked chicken day,” they said in unison.

  Once the cucumbers were washed, sliced, and soaking in brine, Beanie and Will cleaned up and headed to the Mayhew Junction Café, arriving before the local firehouse whistle signaled twelve o’clock noon. It wasn’t unusual for a few heads to turn whenever Beanie Bradsher walked into a room. If she noticed the stares or the whispers or even the giggles of children followed by the shushing of embarrassed parents, she never reacted to them.

  Today, however, it was as if the Queen of England arrived. The full clamor of the busy diner came to an abrupt and silent halt. Heads didn’t just turn - people stopped in their tracks, forks halfway to mouths, spoons full of food teetering in mid-air, jaws gaping and eyes wide. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. For a full ten seconds or more, they simply stared. Beanie broke the ice.

  “Hey, y’all,” she said to everyone in general and no one in particular.

  Sissy came to her senses first.

  “Hey, Beanie! Haven’t seen y’all in a month of Sundays.”

  Sissy handed off two sweet teas and a water to a table of three then hustled over and took Beanie by the elbow.

  “Lord, Beanie, you’re brave. The whole town is talkin’ about your winnin’s. Y’all sit over here. Maybe no one’ll bother you over here outta the way,” Sissy said, leading them both to a booth in the corner which was usually reserved for employees. “Y’all want a menu?”

  “Naw, Sissy,” Beanie said, still not grasping the seriousness of the situation. “It’s baked chicken day. We’s both havin’ the buffet.”

  “Okay,” Sissy said, without conviction, “but don’t say I didn’t warn ya. What can I getcha to drink?”

  “Sweet tea for me,” Beanie said.

  “Ditto,” said Will.

  “Comin’ up,” Sissy said and walked away wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her waistband.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Beanie said, scooting across the red vinyl seat. “I’m hungry.”

  “Beanie,” Will said as he scanned the restaurant to see all eyes focused in their direction, “this may not have been a good idea.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Will, how bad can it be?”

  Fifteen minutes later they were back in their seats, food cooling on the plates they’d held since loading them. Sissy had long since left huge plastic cups of iced tea on the table, which sweated into puddles on the pol
yurethaned tabletop.

  “Lord, Will, I don’t know if I can even eat now.”

  Beanie stared at the plate piled high with a roasted chicken breast smothered in onions and green peppers, corn bread covered by a healthy spoonful of fresh collard greens, green beans, macaroni and cheese, and rutabagas draped in scraps of bacon used for seasoning.

  “Food’s cold,” Will said. “Why don’t you get yourself another plate?”

  “No,” Beanie said. “It’s not that. It’s just I’m feelin’ depressed is all.”

  “Who wouldn’t feel depressed with all the woe we just heard?”

  “I know,” Beanie said as if she were surprised Will noticed. “Is it a full moon or something? Seems like they’s tragedy all around. Poor Juanita’s two kids needin’ dental work, Fred’s back is out and he ain’t been able to work, Mirandy’s cousin’s friend who’s battlin’ the cancer. And Amos, bless his heart – his wife with a broken hip and stayin’ over at the nursin’ home, so he’s havin’ to eat out every meal. I thought he looked like he gained a little weight. Must be JoEllen’s cookin’. I ain’t never heard the like of all this misery.”

  “You’ve never won the lotto before,” Will said, tearing a piece of chicken off the bone.

  Beanie stopped shaking hot sauce onto her greens and stared up at Will from beneath her cowboy hat.

  “Oooohhhh,” she said in wide-eyed innocence.

  Will chuckled. “Seriously?”

  “I thought they was just bein’ friendly,” Beanie said, her shoulders sagging.

  “Beanie, Beanie, Beanie,” Will said, smiling sadly. “When was the last time somebody told you their car was broken down? There are cars being mown around in half the yards in this county and not once has anyone complained to you about needing to fix one of them until today, and I counted Beanie. Three cars and a truck, all desperately needing repairs so someone can get to work, find a job, take their kids to school, or get their elderly parent to the doctor. You do the math.”

  “I don’t have to do the math,” Beanie said. “I don’t have that much money.”

  “Well, apparently they all think it’s some kind of windfall, because half the people in this restaurant have their hands out in your direction.”

  “Now I really can’t eat,” Beanie said, pushing her plate to the side.

  “Don’t look now,” Will said, “but Eustace Falwell just came through the door.”

  “Oh, Lord, Will – hide me.”

  Will laughed. “I’m no miracle worker, Beanie. You don’t exactly blend in a crowd.”

  “Yeah, I guess not,” said Beanie, tugging at the brim of her turquoise hat with matching sequined band.

  “Don’t look at him. Maybe he’ll take the hint.”

  Beanie dropped her head and began to eat in earnest.

  Eustace Falwell worked every room he entered like a politician up for re-election. He shook hands, remembered names, patted backs, asked after children and parents and spoke just shy of a shout. Certain everyone was just as interested in him as he was in them, Eustace had a story ready for every opening afforded him. Sometimes “hello” was enough. He spotted Beanie as she averted her eyes, but, undeterred, he made a beeline for her table.

  “Hey, Will,” Eustace said, “How’s it going?”

  “Afternoon, Eustace.”

  Beanie’s head was still down, her focus on getting as much baked chicken as she could into her mouth. Eustace leaned in playfully and lifted the brim of her hat forcing her to look up with a half-hearted smile. She swallowed the now-dry chicken and washed it down with a gulp of sweet tea.

  “Hey, Useless,” she said with no enthusiasm at all.

  “Hey, Beanie, you get those cucumbers I brought ya?”

  “Yeah, I did, thanks.” Beanie answered. “We’ve been putting up pickles all morning.”

  “Well, ain’t that somethin’? Mama’d probably love a jar when you’re done. She’s got a great recipe for ‘em. Ya take a bushel of cucumbers and slice ‘em real thin-like…”

  “You done give me that recipe last year, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said, removing his ball cap and scratching haphazardly at his head. “Hey, you know I heard something about you. Whole town is talking about you winning the lottery and all. That right?”

  “Eustace,” Will interrupted before Beanie could speak, “I don’t mean to be rude, but Beanie’s been trying to eat for over half an hour.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess everybody’s wantin’ to know the same thing. Well, I won’t keep you. I just thought I’d tell you about this song I been workin’ on. Been wantin’ to record it, but I got troubles with the I.R.S., and you know how that is. The OSHA guy came out the other day, too. If it ain’t one thing it’s another. He fined me a thousand dollars, but I won’t bore you with all that. It was some little somethin’ I forgot to do. You know how they want you to have everything posted where the guys can read it and I got the Mexicans out there can’t read English and…”

  “Eustace!” Will said.

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, I get it.” Eustace cackled. “I’m going, I’m going. But let me sing this one little song for you. When you hear it, I know you’re gonna want to produce my record. I took this old song and, you know, God just gives me the words to things. Just pops ‘em in my head, and I think to myself, now how did I come up with that? It’s amazing how all the words rhyme and everything. I think to myself, ‘That’s good, Eustace. You gotta record them words before they get away from you.’ But, you know it cost a pretty penny to get anything recorded. And I can’t read a lick of music, so I gotta hire somebody to play for me. But listen up and I’ll sing you a little bit…”

  ***

  The phone at The Château started ringing right after lunch and didn’t stop until Will Thaxton took it off the hook an hour later.

  Beanie took the first four calls. Afterwards, she begged Will to make her apologies and take messages.

  “I didn’t even know I knew this many people,” Beanie moaned. “Leastways not well enough to give ‘em money.”

  “Are they coming right out and asking now?”

  “Not in so many words but, hell, the fact they’re all of a sudden crawling out of the woodwork is words enough for me. What do they think I am, stupid?”

  Will paused.

  “No one thinks you’re stupid, Bean,” said Will, wishing that were true. He knew half the town thought she was a little off, but Will found her idiosyncrasies charming. Boundless energy and positivity, colorful and creative use of grammar, and unpredictable trains of thought made every moment with her both a challenge and a delight.

  “What am I gonna do, Will?”

  “I don’t know, Bean, but we need to do something about the calls. I can’t leave the phone off the hook indefinitely. Guests will think I’ve closed down.”

  In an age where nearly everyone Will knew carried a cell phone, Beanie Bradsher hated the thought of paying for a phone of any kind. Why should she? She rarely called a soul. If she needed something, she hopped on her bike and rode directly to the source.

  “I guess I’m going to have to start getting ugly about it.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t take long for people to get the hint if you just tell them the truth. You don’t have any money to spare. Period. The way this town talks, word will spread in a matter of days and they’ll leave you alone.”

  “You think?” Beanie asked hopefully.

  “I do,” Will said. “At least it’s worth a try. Just be straight with them. They should be ashamed of themselves, calling you this way when everyone knows you just lost your home.”

  “I don’t think they mean any harm. And I guess some of them really need help, you know?”

  “I do know. But I also know this, Beanie. The ones waving their hands in front of your face crying ‘woe is me’ probably don’t need help. If you want to help someone, try looking for somebody who is working too hard to stop and ask for help. These people want to help themsel
ves all right – to your money.”

  “Well, they’s precious little of that to go around, that’s for sure. Maybe I ought not get a headstone. I don’t want people thinkin’ I’m selfish.”

  “Beatrice Bradsher, there is not a selfish bone in your body. Don’t you dare change your plans. This will blow over, I promise.”

  “Lord, I hope so.”

  Beanie looked as if she would cry any minute and it broke Will’s heart. Without thinking, Will reached out and pulled Beanie toward him for a comforting hug. When she went to lay her head on his shoulder, her red Stetson hit his cheek and slid backwards. They both reached for it at once, his hand closing over hers on the brim as she looked up, half laughing and half crying. He meant only to console her, but somehow found himself leaning in to kiss her.

  Will Thaxton was never in his life pushed with such ferocity. Beanie’s hands, palms out, caught him squarely in the center of his chest and sent him flying backwards. His feet caught on the first step of the hall stairway, but the rest of him sprawled ungraciously against the banister. There was barely time to gather himself into a sitting position before the front door slammed. He watched through the window as Beanie hopped on her bike and pedaled furiously away from the inn.

  Will was still sitting on the stairs when Beanie returned an hour later with a pumpkin pie and a half-gallon of Breyer’s Butter Pecan ice cream.

  “What are you doin’ still settin’ there on your behind?” she asked.

  “Just waiting, I guess,” Will said. “Beanie, I’m…”

  “Don’t say nothin’, Will Thaxton. You’ll just make it worser than before.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking…”

  “Well, I don’t know either, but you better stop thinkin’ it.”

  “That’s just it. I wasn’t! I don’t know what happened.”

  “Well, it better not happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Will said. “I promise.”

  “Good,” said Beanie. “I got pie for supper.”

  “For supper?”