A Dash of Peach

by Wendy Meadows

  “Amen,” Momma Peach beamed. “You have a good mind, Amanda Johnson. I know your family. Good people. I ain't sure why your daddy let you work here, though.”

  “Money is tight,” Amanda sighed and looked over at the snotty woman. “I better get back to work,” she said and patted Grace on her shoulder. “Come to work with me at the factory. The pay is a little higher and we get better benefits.”

  “It's a shoe factory,” Grace said embarrassed. “What will people think?”

  “Who cares? It’s still in the accounting department there. We're both taking CPA classes, so what does it matter if we work at a shoe factory until we reach our dream, girl? Any place is better than this tomb,” Amanda said with a serious look and walked away.

  Grace sighed. “I'll go get Mr. Connor,” she told Momma Peach. “You can have a seat in the waiting area if you want.”

  “Okay,” Momma Peach said and walked over to the group of plush green armchairs that surrounded a coffee table that probably cost more than her bakery. She sat down, placed her pocketbook in her lap, and watched Amanda take the place of a woman who stepped away from the drive-thru window. The snotty woman Momma Peach didn't like approached Amanda, whispered a few sour words and walked away. Amanda made an ugly face at her. The other woman at the drive-thru window smiled and hurried away. “Maybe all the people in this bank ain't bad,” Momma Peach laughed.

  A few minutes later a young, handsome man with short, bright blond hair walked up. “Momma Peach?” he asked politely and straightened out his navy blue tie beneath his deep gray suit jacket. “My name is Bob Connor. I'm the new loan officer here at the bank. Grace said you wanted to speak with me?”

  Charm dripped off Bob Connor the way honey drips off a honeycomb. Momma Peach looked up into the man's eyes and nearly melted at their sparkling depths. Standing before her was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen in her life. “Yes, I want to talk about making a new loan,” Momma Peach smiled up at Bob. As she smiled, she read his clever eyes. Behind the charm and the polish was something darker and more sinister, but he was practiced at hiding it very well. He fit right into this bank, thought Momma Peach as she stood up to shake his hand.

  “We can speak in my office.”

  Bob led Momma Peach down a short hallway and into a fancy office decorated with paintings and furnishings designed to look antique. His large, glossy wooden desk sat in the middle of the office, with neatly stacked papers and files, a computer, and a phone; Momma Peach didn't spot any personal photos on the desk. “Please, sit down,” Bob said and pointed to a plushly cushioned chair in front of his desk.

  Momma Peach sat down. She watched Bob walk around his desk and plant his backside in an expensive-looking leather chair. “Nice office,” Momma Peach commented.

  Bob smiled. “We try to create a welcoming atmosphere for our customers,” he explained. “Now,” he said with a smile, “what kind of loan are you interested in taking out?”

  Momma Peach spotted a crystal candy bowl sitting on the corner of the desk. She leaned forward and studied the contents. She spotted butterscotch and peppermint candies sitting inside the bowl. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Momma Peach retrieved a peppermint and placed it into her mouth. “I want to talk about making a personal loan.”

  Bob reached out and lifted a tan folder off his desk. “I took the liberty of pulling your information,” he told Momma Peach. “You're a valued customer. Your payment history is excellent and your credit score is exceptionally high. I don't see any problem with you securing a personal loan.”

  “That's good,” Momma Peach smiled and took a deep breath. “Kinda stuffy in here.”

  “I'm sorry about that.”

  “It's okay,” Momma Peach said and let out her breath. “I like open windows. I don't like central heat and air...unless it's hot outside,” she added with a big laugh. She swung her pocketbook onto the desk as she laughed and the folders and papers scattered everywhere in a mess. “Oh, I am so clumsy.”

  “No...it's okay,” Bob said, and scrambled to clean up the mess and reorganize the files and papers.

  Momma Peach waited until Bob cleaned up the mess before she spoke. “I’m a clumsy clown sometimes. I’m so sorry.”

  “We all have our days,” Bob tried to regain his smile as he tidied the papers.

  “I know we do,” Momma Peach chuckled and then drew in a second deep breath. “My, what a handsome cologne you have on. I noticed it earlier but it really seemed to come to life when you began picking up the mess I made.”

  “It was a gift,” Bob said shortly, distracted as he restacked the files on his desk. “Now, let's talk about the loan.”

  “Before we do,” Momma Peach told Bob, “I want to talk about Mr. Floyd Garland.”

  Bob stared across his desk at Momma Peach. “What about Mr. Garland?” he asked in a voice that might have sounded casual to a rookie but was clearly stained with worry to the ears of a pro like her.

  “Mr. Garland came by my bakery last night and said I owed a lot of money in back payments for a business loan I thought I finished paying off a long time ago. If that's true, then I need to take out a personal loan to pay those back payments,” Momma Peach said calmly to Bob as she chewed on her peppermint.

  “He said that?” Bob asked, his face almost blank.

  “He sure did,” Momma Peach stated in a matter-of-fact voice. “Uh huh, Mr. Garland said I owed bunches of money in back payments. Something about how the loan I made for my bakery was marked with an interest rate that was far too low for me to have? Now, I ain't no banker like yourself, Mr. Connor, because I thought that I paid off my loan fair and square.”

  Bob settled back in his chair. “I'll look into the matter, of course,” he said smoothly to Momma Peach and regarded her with false concern. “I can understand your worry.”

  “I was going to speak with Mr. Finney...Mr. Finney and I are good friends...but why worry him? I think Mr. Garland was full of hot air.”

  “Mr. Finney is a very busy man,” Bob concurred. “Momma Peach, you have my word that I will look into this matter at once. Right now, Mr. Garland is taking a personal day and won't be back in the office until tomorrow. I'll speak with him first thing tomorrow morning and give you a call.”

  “I will reward you with one of my peach pies,” Momma Peach smiled. She stood up, grabbed her pocketbook, took one last piece of peppermint, and walked over to the office door. “Call me at my bakery, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” Bob promised.

  Momma Peach winked at Bob and left his office. As she did, she saw Felicia walk through the front doors of the bank. Momma Peach waved at her. “Hello there,” she said and hurried up to Felicia.

  Felicia stared at Momma Peach in shock. “Uh...hi,” she said in a confused voice.

  “My, look how lovely you look in that peach colored dress. Peach is one of my favorite colors,” Momma Peach said in a honeyed voice to Felicia. “Are you here to see your husband?”

  “Uh, yes,” Felicia said. “Floyd and I are meeting for lunch.”

  But Momma Peach not only heard the lie, she saw Felicia throw a panicked glance down the hallway toward Bob's office. She turned just in time to see Bob stick his head out and then yank it back in. “Well, enjoy your lunch,” Momma Peach told Felicia, “and tell your husband I said hi. How is he doing, anyway?”

  “I...haven’t seen him since this morning,” Felicia replied, having trouble keeping her nerves from her voice. “But I'll tell him you said hello.”

  “You do that,” Momma Peach said and left the bank. “You do that,” she whispered to herself and ordered her short legs to get moving back to her bakery.

  Felicia walked up to Grace. “I need to make a withdrawal,” she told Grace in a sharp tone.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Grace told Felicia. “By the way, did you notice my new hair style?”

  “It’s fine...your hair looks fine,” Felicia said impatiently. “I nee
d to make a withdrawal of five thousand dollars. I'm in a hurry. Floyd and I...we have a lunch date,” she lied.

  “I understand,” Grace said and tapped away at her keyboard rapidly. “You seem to be making a lot of withdrawals lately. I hope your sick cousin appreciates all you're doing for her.”

  “I'm sure she does,” Felicia said and looked around. She spotted Bob step out of his office and peer across the lobby at her.

  After Felicia finished her withdrawal, she left the bank and hurried over to her blue BMW. Before she could open the door, she saw a shadow reflected in the car window as someone appeared behind her. She turned around and saw Bob Connor staring at her. “My money?”

  “I'll leave it where I always do,” Felicia promised in a frightened voice.

  “See to it that you do,” Bob told Felicia in a cold tone that brooked no disagreement. “If you try and betray me, I will kill you.”

  Felicia stared into the handsome face that hid a murderous monster underneath. “I...I'll do whatever you tell me to do, Bob.”

  Bob leaned close to Felicia and put his lips to her left ear. “I control you,” he whispered. “If you even think about running I'll track you down and make you suffer.” And with those words, Bob turned and walked back into the bank, leaving Felicia standing alone, trembling violently.

  Chapter Five

  Mandy watched Momma Peach hurry over to the phone sitting on the front counter. “Is everything okay, Momma Peach?” she asked.

  “I have to make a call,” Momma Peach told Mandy and set her pocketbook down. “How has business been?”

  “We're nearly sold out of peach bread. Had a busy morning crowd about an hour ago. Mostly college students buying up picnic food,” Mandy explained and then sighed. “You should have seen them, Momma Peach. They were laughing and teasing each other...joking around and talking about where they wanted to have their picnic. One guy kept teasing his girlfriend about finding a bear. She pinched his arm and made him swear he wouldn't go searching for a bear.”

  Momma Peach looked into Mandy's sad face. She put down the phone. Murder case or no murder case, her baby came first. “I see,” she said and looked around the front room. “Okay, pack up some food. We're going on a picnic.”

  “What?” Mandy asked in a shocked voice.

  “I am going to go down to the diner and get us some food. You pack us some bread and a pie,” Momma Peach smiled and gently touched Mandy's cheek. “Where were those college kids going on their picnic?”

  “Up near High Ridge Falls, I think,” Mandy told Momma Peach.

  “Pretty place,” Momma Peach said in a happy voice. “I think I’m in the mood to see the falls today.”

  “Oh, Momma Peach, really?” Mandy exclaimed happily. She ran out from behind the counter and hugged Momma Peach as tightly as she could. “Maybe we might see...I mean...bump into the college crowd that was in here earlier? There was a really cute guy...he kinda smiled at me.”

  Momma Peach smiled from ear to ear as she hugged Mandy. “Maybe,” she said. “Now, you know I don't like to drive. You'll have to drive her old clunker up to the falls.”

  “I don't think a 1967 Beetle is a clunker,” Mandy told Momma Peach. “My dad loves your car.”

  “I keep that car because it belonged to my husband,” Momma Peach told Mandy and let go of her. “Okay, let me walk up to the diner and get us some food. We are going to do this picnic right, just you wait and see.”

  Mandy watched Momma Peach grab her pocketbook and hurry out of the bakery. She squeezed her hands together in excitement, looked around the bakery, and let out a happy laugh. “We're going on a picnic,” she said and began running around the bakery trying to decide what delicious desserts to gather.

  As Mandy worked on packing their picnic, Momma Peach strolled up the sidewalk of the cozy tree-lined street, where beds of vibrant, red, white, and yellow tulips nodded under the tall pine trees. She walked past the mix of quaint shops and greeted people in passing. For a few minutes, Momma Peach forgot all about the black widow sitting in its web at the bank. She drew in deep breaths of fresh air scented warmly with pine and tulip and found herself thinking about her husband.

  “I had your clunker repaired, you old scoundrel,” she whispered in a sad voice. “It's sitting in the back of my bakery. I guess the day will come when you'll show up and take me home in that old clunker. Nah, ain't no cars in Heaven. I’ll just settle for a walk with you, one day. Forever.” Momma Peach felt tears sting her eyes. She wiped at them before anyone could see. “I miss you, James,” she whispered. “Sometimes the nights get awfully lonely without you.”

  Felicia spotted Momma Peach walking up the sidewalk. She hesitated, then, very nervously, hurried up to Momma Peach. “Uh, hello,” she said.

  Momma Peach stopped walking. She turned her head and looked into a very nervous and scared face. “Hello,” she said in a curious voice. “I expected you to be at lunch with Bob Connor. I know Floyd Garland is locked up down at the jail.”

  Felicia looked down at the white purse she was holding in her hands. “You knew I was lying?”

  “I know a lot,” Momma Peach informed Felicia. “I know that you knew your daddy was in town, too.”

  “Can we talk someplace private?” Felicia asked.

  “My, your tone has sure changed since yesterday. Yesterday you were a different woman. I saw you at the jail. I watched my baby interrogate you. I saw you lie through your teeth, too,” Momma Peach informed Felicia and pointed down at a pretty white tulip. “Aren't the tulips beautiful?”

  “Huh?” Felicia asked and looked down at the tulips. “Yes, sure, the tulips are beautiful.”

  “Flowers are like the heart,” Momma Peach told Felicia in a soft voice, “they grow into a beautiful dream. But if we don't keep the weeds away, then the weeds grow over the flowers' beauty. It's never too late to start yanking the weeds out of the flower garden.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Felicia said and began looking around hastily, embarrassed. She spotted a few shoppers coming and going, minding their own business, enjoying the morning. “I can see this was a mistake. I have to be leaving.”

  “Running is more like it,” Momma Peach said and looked up into Felicia's scared face. “You thought Bob Connor was mighty handsome and decided to have lunch with him. What would one little lunch hurt anyway? But then one lunch turned into two and then three and before you knew it, Bob wanted to get serious.” Momma Peach narrowed her eyes. “You didn't want to jump into the deep end of the pool, though. You liked to play with Bob, accept his compliments, lie to your husband about your whereabouts, play a dangerous game.” Momma Peach shook her head. “What you didn't know was that Bob Connor was manipulating you. You were nothing more than a pawn on the chessboard to him.”

  Felicia began backing away from Momma Peach with eyes wide. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Bob Connor wants to be the main man down at the bank. Your husband was an obstacle. Poor Floyd Garland has to be eliminated. And you,” Momma Peach pointed at Felicia, “were the means to carry out Bob's poisonous task. How? I ain't sure yet, but I will be in time.”

  “You're crazy.”

  “What I don't know is how poor Mr. Graystone, rest his soul, came into the picture. Maybe you called him because you needed his help? Maybe Mr. Floyd Garland called him? What I do know is that your daddy didn't want anyone knowing he was in town...he especially didn't want Bob Connor knowing he was in town, ain't that right?”

  Felicia continued to back away from Momma Peach. “You don't know what you're talking about!”

  “Betty Walker is dead,” Momma Peach said in a low tone that sent chills through Felicia.

  Felicia stopped backing away. “Dead?”

  “That's right. Strangled,” Momma Peach said, keeping her voice low. “Your husband claims she threatened to tell the police a lie if you two didn't pay up. Betty claims that your husband threatened her life and then paid her to leave town. Who to
believe?”

  “I... Betty is dead?”

  “Yes,” Momma Peach said. She stepped closer to Felicia. “You pretended not to know where your daddy was yesterday down at the police station. You lied. You knew where your daddy was staying and you know who killed him.”

  Felicia began shaking her head back and forth. “I don't know what you're talking about. I...have to leave now.”

  Momma Peach reached out and grabbed Felicia's right wrist with her left hand. “Your daddy is dead, girl. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

  “You have it all wrong,” Felicia insisted. “You don't know what you're talking about. Now let me go!” Felicia yanked her wrist away from Momma Peach. “I love my husband. I never flirted with Bob Connor or had secret lunches with him. And if you weren't so blind, you old bat, you would look into my face and see the family resemblance that is the proof of that.” Felicia turned and stormed off.

  Momma Peach raised her left hand and began rubbing her chin. “Well I'll be, there is a family resemblance,” she said as her mind began wondering in a different direction. “Could it be? I will surely find out.”

  Momma Peach continued on to the diner, ordered two fried chicken plates to go, tutted over the biscuits which she said were too dry, complained about the vegetable portions being too small (oh, give her strength) and demanded she pay only half price for the food. Mrs. Edwards, the proprietor, an elderly African American woman, raised her cane at Momma Peach and told her to pay full price or starve. The truth was everyone in town knew Mrs. Edwards’s diner served the best food. Momma Peach just liked to fuss and make a scene because she was a tad bit jealous. “Full price for dry biscuits and burned chicken,” Momma Peach griped as she reached into her pocketbook and pulled out her money.