"Henry!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Stop that!"
He stood back up and with a proud smile, said, " No one's here. And don't tell me you hate it. You didn't say that last night."
Polly's face flushed and she giggled. "Sometimes I don't know what to say to you."
"I know," he said. "I'm hilarious. Are we grilling out tonight?"
She wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to. Let's go out to eat."
"It's because I groped you, isn't it. You want to be out in public where I'll be good. You're afraid of me," he taunted her.
"That's me. Afraid of you."
Henry bent back over and kissed her cheek. "I love you anyway. Where do you want to eat?"
"I could do Mexican."
He scowled. "We did takeout from there for lunch."
"We need more restaurants in this town," Polly said. "I don't feel like driving all the way down to Boone."
"It's fifteen miles. You drove farther than that for a meal when you lived in Boston."
"Yeah, but..."
"Don't yeahbut me," he said. "Come on, let's go."
"I don't want to leave town when Rebecca is staying somewhere else." Polly chuckled as she said it.
But Henry bit. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Ahh, a little bit," she said and jumped up off the sofa. "Can we just go to Davey's? I feel like steak or pasta or a big salad."
He rolled his eyes. "You are too easy."
She followed him through the house and down the back steps, glancing back to see two very forlorn dogs at the top.
"We'll be back soon. I promise," she said to them. "Now go lie down and keep each other company."
"You think they understand you?" Henry asked.
"I feel better if I talk to them, so don't give me any trouble."
He held the truck door open for her and waited until she was settled before going to the driver's side.
"Are you always going to do that?" Polly asked.
"Do what?"
"Hold the door for me?"
He spoke in an exaggerated drawl. "Absolutely, ma'am. We boys are brought up to take care of our women. Because y'all are precious flowers, deserving of our undying attention."
"You're a weird, weird man."
Henry touched the front of his non-existent Stetson and nodded to her. "Yes, ma'am."
"I didn't tell you about the bullies today," she said. "Three boys got pushy with me and Alistair Greyson when we were walking to the coffee shop."
"In Bellingwood?" Henry sounded shocked.
"I know!" she said. "I forgot to ask Jason if he knew who they were. I'm half tempted to find out who they are and call their mothers. It was rude. And honestly, Henry, I didn't know whether they were going to get physical or not."
He had stopped at the end of their driveway waiting for traffic to pass. "In Bellingwood?" he asked again.
"Almost downtown. I've seen one or two before. I have no idea what they thought they were doing. It was a little scary."
"In Bellingwood," he repeated, shaking his head. "I just don't believe it. And no one came out to stop them?"
"We weren't near any shops. But, to be honest, it was kind of entertaining to watch Grey sweep their feet out from under them and put them on the ground."
"Tell me you didn't..." Henry glanced at her.
"Kick them in the balls?" she asked, laughing. "No, but I probably should have. Taught those little jerks a lesson. And then one of them made a point of telling me that even though I thought I was a big deal, in reality I was nothing."
"That's not true," Henry said. "You are a pretty big deal in this little town."
"I've heard nasty stuff before, though," she said. "Sometimes it bothers me that people think that. I'm just doing my thing."
"People get jealous of others and their success. You're doing a lot for Bellingwood. There are always people who are so negative, they can only imagine you have sinister motives behind everything you do."
"Me?" she asked, laughing. "Sinister? I don't even know what that looks like."
"They do. They'll always hope you fail or look for a way to trip you up. They want to drag you down into the gutter with them. It's just their way."
"That's ridiculous. Have I done something to hurt these people?" She paused. "I don't even know who they are. Are they just phantom complainers?"
"They're real and there are more than a few in town."
"You've heard them?"
He grew quiet.
"You've heard people saying bad things about me, haven't you?"
He nodded.
"I'm sorry," she said. "You shouldn't have to listen to that. Have you ever confronted them?"
Henry shook his head. "It's stupid to get into an argument with people like that. There's nothing you can say to change their mind, so why fight with them?"
"I know you're right, but it makes me even angrier that they think they can get away with bad-mouthing me in front of you. And other people who don't even know me."
"Everyone who is anyone knows they're wrong. They're just sad, sad people who have nothing better to do than to complain about good things. They're afraid of change and think that by making noise they can stop new things from happening."
Polly crossed her arms over her chest. "So the best thing for everyone else to do is just let them say terrible things. That makes a ton of sense," she said, marking every word with as much sarcasm as possible. "You know that kind of talk is insidious. Others hear it and then begin questioning whether or not it's true and before you know it, they're looking closely and making every little thing fit in with their negative belief about me."
"Now Polly, you know that isn't real." Henry drove past the entrance to Davey's.
"Don't try to placate me. This is how World War II started. Hitler's beliefs were insidious and people who should have stood up and stopped him, didn't."
He burbled out a laugh. "Bellingwood is World War II Germany now?"
"No!" she snapped. "But you know what I mean."
Henry drove into the parking lot of Sycamore Inn and parked. "You're right. I should be better about standing up for you, but seriously, Polly. Most of the garbage that comes out of their mouths is hooey and everyone knows it. These people are just looking for a fight and I don't particularly want to be the one to give it to them."
"Who are these people, by the way?" she asked.
He tried to wave her off. "I don't know. It's been a while since I've been anywhere to hear them. It's no big deal."
"It was a big enough deal today that three young punks thought they could get all up in my face and try to bully me."
Henry reached over and took her hand. "Find out who those little jack-asses are and I will stand up and protect you. Trust me on that."
Polly reached out and patted his arm, smiled, affected her own drawl and batted her eyes at him. "You're mah hero," she said. "Mah big, strong hero."
"Yes, ma'am, I am."
He backed out and drove to Davey's.
Polly reached for the door handle after he parked the truck. "I feel kind of guilty."
"For what?" he asked.
"I should have invited someone to come to dinner with us. I get so busy that I don't think about it until it's too late."
"You're a nut and I love you," he said. "I think the world will be just fine tonight if you aren't taking care of it."
"Brat." Polly opened the door and hopped down. She waited for Henry to catch up and they went inside. The hostess seated them and Polly checked out the room. She could always count on someone interesting being here. Henry often told her that she had more fun watching people than actually spending time with him. That was true.
She'd never been able to find anyone since college who would play the story-telling game with her and she missed it. They would choose a few people and weave elaborate lives for them, based on nothing more than what they were wearing and doing at the time. There were international spies or housewives whose other job was much m
ore interesting. They had created serial killers and bounty hunters, aliens bent on taking over the world and even little old ladies who lived with 87 cats. Maybe she should teach Rebecca and Andrew how to play the game. Their imaginations were still growing.
"What are you thinking about over there?" Henry asked. "You're a million miles away."
"Oh nothing. Just thinking about how interesting people are."
He glanced around the room. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"
"Watching? Yeah. I guess so." Then she saw him. "That's him," she whispered loudly.
Henry looked up. "Who?"
"The little brat who got all up in my face today. He's here with his parents."
"Who?" he asked again.
"He's behind you." She stopped him before he turned around. "No, don't look. I don't want him to know he got to me."
"Who cares what he knows?" Henry asked. "If he was bullying you on the streets of Bellingwood, I'd like him to know that I've got your back and he can't get away with it." He turned around in his chair and stared at the table with the young man.
The boy glanced up and caught his eye, then ducked his head.
Henry turned back to her. "Now it makes sense. Those aren't his parents. They're his dad's brother and wife. His parents were killed the winter before you got here. That's Heath Harvey. The poor kid has been in a lot of trouble. He just can't move on."
"Was he in the accident with them?" Polly asked.
Henry shook his head. "No, they were on their way to a basketball game in Ames. They shouldn't have gone out in the storm. His older brother was playing. Hayden, I think his name is. Anyway, Heath was home with a babysitter and it busted him up pretty bad. His uncle is a tough man. He farms out east of town. So, in one fell swoop, he lost his parents and had to move out of town, away from everything he was used to."
"You're almost making me feel bad for the kid," Polly said.
"Well, he shouldn't be acting like that, but those two have no control of him. I hope he figures it out, but who knows."
"Is he Jason's age?"
Henry looked up from the menu. "Stop it. Don't make Jason get involved with that. He doesn't need to rescue the world with you. That poor kid is finally done with a year where he had to figure out his own life."
"But..."
He put his hand over the top of hers. "I love you..."
"You already said that," she replied, interrupting him.
"But you don't need to get involved in every problem that rears its head in Bellingwood."
Polly picked up her menu and then said, "If I don't, who will?" She glanced back at the boy sitting sullenly at the table with his aunt and uncle. "Don't they say that kids' brains aren't fully developed at this age - that decision making and empathy and all of that is still being learned?" she mused out loud. "Is he just expected to figure it out on his own? Those people aren't going to help him. I mean, look at them. They aren't talking. And why didn't they have children of their own? Was it because they couldn't or because they didn't want to? Then they were stuck with a messed up kid they barely knew."
"Honey," he said. "Don't do this to yourself. You can't fix him."
"But I could show him something different. What if I offered him a job at the coffee shop or out at Sycamore Inn. It wouldn't be many hours, but he'd be with people I trust to be good to him."
"You have a brand-new manager at the coffee shop. Are you just going to throw employees at her and expect her to deal with them?"
"No." Polly stuck her lower lip out.
"And I don't know what you think you'd do with him at the inn. You don't even have a manager."
"Whoops," she said.
Henry put his menu back down again. "What's whoops?"
Their waitress stopped, took their order, and Henry looked at Polly again. "You said 'whoops.' What does that mean?"
"We hired Alistair Greyson to manage the inn."
Henry had started to take a drink of water and instead, put the glass back down on the table. "Who is the we in that equation?"
"We. You know. Me and Jeff. I had a crazy idea and he ran with it. It's the same deal we made with Eliseo. We'll try this for a month. If it goes well, great, we move forward. If it goes horribly bad, then everyone moves on and we start over. But I like him, Henry. He's a good man."
"I thought you said he was odd."
"Well," she chuckled. "That doesn't change whether or not he's a good man. He just happens to have a few odd affectations."
"Does he have any experience?"
"Did I?"
"Well no, but you were building a business, not running someone else's."
"And I had no business background, no idea what I was going to do once I started. I didn't know anyone in town. I had no connections."
He put his hand up to stop her. "Okay, okay. I get it. It just seems strange to hire someone like that right off the street."
"You mean like Eliseo? Or even Jeff for that matter. He walked in for an interview and hired himself."
"But Jeff had the education. And Eliseo is just ... Eliseo."
"And Grey is Grey," she retorted. "It's going to be okay. I have a good feeling about this. And besides, Obiwan liked him."
"If the dog likes him, I guess he's acceptable, then," Henry said.
"That's right," Polly said. "It's going to be fine. You'll see."
Henry smiled at her. "Your super power is finding dead bodies, not reading people or having good feelings."
"Don't start with me. There are going to be no more dead bodies." Polly glanced up and said, "Well, oh my. I wonder who the pretty boy is with her."
"That's mean. With who? I hate it when you look at things behind me and make cryptic comments."
"With her," Polly said, grinning and standing up. "Hello Beryl, how are you? You look wonderful this evening." She gave her friend a hug and waited while Henry stood.
Both Henry and Polly waited an uncomfortable moment for Beryl to introduce the man who was standing beside her.
He shifted on his feet and Beryl finally broke the silence. "It's nice to see you two this evening. I hope you enjoy your meal."
She tugged a beautifully knitted black shrug around her shoulders and turned to follow the hostess.
"Oh no you don't," Polly said, grabbing her arm. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh honey, there are so many things that I would dare. Maybe you ought to clarify." Beryl lifted Polly's fingers one by one and then squeezed her hand gently before dropping it.
Polly put her hand out to the man and said, "I'm Polly Giller and this is my husband Henry Sturtz."
He shook her hand and then Henry's and finally looked at Beryl, laughter in his eyes.
Henry couldn't stand it. "Would you two like to join us this evening? We've only just placed our order with the waitress. I'm sure they can put our food on hold until you've ordered."
"We couldn't," Beryl said. "We have too much to discuss and it would be rude." She took the man's arm and led him away from the table, looking back over her shoulder at Polly with an immense smile on her face.
Polly and Henry sat back down and Polly just looked at him. "I don't know what to think about that," she said.
"What just happened?"
"Is she on a date?"
"Surely you would have heard about a hot date. Wouldn't you?"
Polly craned her neck to see where they'd been seated. "You'd think. Was she just being rotten by not introducing him to us? And how did he avoid the introduction so gracefully? I gave him a perfect lead-in and he ignored it. And I think he enjoyed ignoring it!" She pursed her lips. "I'm calling Lydia."
The waitress came with their salads and after she left, Henry picked up his fork. "Let's enjoy our supper and you can talk to Lydia tomorrow. Maybe Beryl is just messing with you and soon she won't be able to stand it. Then she'll tell you what's going on."
"I suppose you're right," Polly said. She glanced back at their table again. Beryl was laughing and touching th
e man's forearm. "But she's flirting with him."
"Eat your food," he said.
"If she was trying to hide him from us, she wouldn't have brought him to Davey's. They could have gone anywhere else and been more discreet than this."
"Exactly. It's probably nothing. Eat."
Polly looked down at her salad and then up at him. "This has been a weird meal so far. We should probably have played the story-telling game. It would have been easier."
Henry raised an eyebrow.
"Making up fictional stories about the people we see here. This real stuff is enough to make me insane."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Huffing out an exasperated sigh, Polly called Lydia as soon as they were back in the truck.
"Hello dear, how are you?" Lydia asked.
"Confused."
Lydia chuckled and asked, "Well, that's a new response. What's going on?"
"You tell me," Polly replied. "I just sat through dinner at Davey's watching Beryl and some strange man together. She was all dressed up and it looked like she was flirting with him. Who is it?"
"Don't tell me you didn't introduce yourself," Lydia said.
"Of course I did. I even caused an awkward silence hoping that one or the other one of them would cave in and introduce him to me. Beryl just ignored it and he wasn't helpful either. Who is it?"
"Hmmm," Lydia said. "I don't know of any special man in Beryl's life. Is she hiding a new beau?"
"They're hardly hiding if they're eating together at Davey's," Polly retorted. "Now do you know something about this or not?"
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," Lydia said.
"Mine? I don't have anything interesting going on."
"That's not the rumor I've heard. You and Jeff have gotten awfully busy over there at Sycamore House. You hired a manager for the coffee shop and it appears you've rescued another poor soul and hired him to manage the inn."
Polly sighed. Nothing got past this woman. "You already know everything. Yes and yes. What more is there to tell you?"
"I want to hear all about these people. What do you think of them? Why did you hire them? Was it your decision or Jeff's? What does Henry think about all of this?" Lydia took a breath and before Polly could respond, she rushed ahead. "Not because Henry has any say in it, I'm just interested in his opinion. I know that he doesn't tell you what to do."
Look Always Forward (Bellingwood Book 11) Page 6