An Allegheny Homecoming

by T. R. McClure

  After looking both ways, he caught up to her at the sidewalk. Putting a hand on her arm, he got her to stop. “Where are we going?”

  She tilted up her chin. “Joe is having an open house. I’m showing my support. I am, after all, one of the business owners on this side of town.” Josh followed her gaze to Joe, who stood at the door greeting people. Tall and thin, he was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and lavender tie, and looked better than he had the first time Josh met him. His mom whispered into his ear, “Remind me to tell you how we met. It’s a funny story.”

  When Joe noticed them staring, he smiled and walked out to greet them. “Suzanna, I’m pleased you could grace my humble establishment.” He raised her hand to his lips. She wore a silver ring with a ruby on her left hand. Josh recognized his mother’s birthstone, a gift from her parents. Her wedding band was well and truly gone.

  Josh threw a glance at his mother. She wouldn’t put up with the hand-kissing nonsense. But his mother’s smile told him otherwise.

  Josh glared at the tea shop owner. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “In a roundabout way I am.” He pointed to the interior where the Smith brothers stood behind a table pouring small cups of tea. “Hawkeye and Skinny are my uncles.” Taking Josh’s mother by the elbow, the tea shop proprietor led her inside.

  Josh was left standing alone on the old brick pavers of the carriage house turned library turned tea shop. Kowalsky must have carted the snow around back because the sidewalk was dry and the rosebush-covered fence, which stood between the shop and the new park next door, was free of snow.

  A gravel path led to the side of the building. Three wrought-iron tables and chairs graced the small patio. The words Tea for You festooned the upper part of the front door. A cup and saucer with a cookie completed the design he’d spotted before on the big, plate-glass window. The man had done a fine remodeling job.

  With a resigned sigh, Josh trailed after his mother into the shop. If his parents stood any chance of reuniting, he had to move fast because clearly Kowalsky was moving plenty fast.

  As Josh faced the crowd, he almost turned tail and ran as fast as his legs would take him. He wanted to avoid seeing anybody who might remember him from high school. Yet here he was.

  He spied one familiar face he knew he didn’t have to worry about. Josh headed toward the table where Hawkeye was busy brewing various teas. Hawkeye had been a fishing buddy of his father’s and a man of few words. Perfect. He was almost there when a hand gripped his elbow hard.

  “Hey, young fella, have a seat.”

  Josh jerked to a stop. Hawkeye’s brother sat at a small table with an iron teapot on a trivet and two cups and a plate of colorfully decorated treats. “Hello, Mr. Smith. How are you?”

  The old farmer waved a hand in the air and motioned again to the chair opposite. “Call me Skinny. Everybody else does.”

  With a last look at his mother, Josh took the chair. A rich aroma rose from the small teapot. “What are you having?”

  “I’m partial to the Rooibos tea, from South Africa, for the powerful antioxidants. I’m a bit sickly, you know. Can I pour you a cup?”

  Josh hesitated, but at the hopeful look in the old man’s eyes, he nodded. Everyone in town knew Skinny had been sickly as a child, hence the name. Now he wasn’t sure if the man was sickly or just accustomed to the idea of being sickly. A flowery fragrance filled his nostrils as he sipped. “Thank you.” He looked around the room for his mother, but she had disappeared, as had the tea shop owner. He looked at the clear liquid in the little cup. One gulp, the tea would be gone, and he could make his escape, after a quick hello to Hawkeye.

  “Our mother taught us the flavor of food and drink is enhanced when served from nice dishes. We use her wedding china every day.” He pointed a long bony finger at the delicate cup in Josh’s hand. It was then Josh realized he should have changed clothes. Skinny himself, most often seen in bib overalls and flannel shirts, wore a pair of khaki pants and a pressed brown shirt. Josh looked down at the jeans he had been wearing for three days and the wrinkled shirt with the missing button. He ran a hand over his beard and planned his excuse. “Thanks, Skinny, but—”

  “See that young lady over there getting ready to interview my nephew?”

  Josh looked, but he couldn’t see who Skinny was referring to for the crowd of people in the shop. “Okay.”

  “That’s the weather girl. Ever since that Atlanta job fell through cuz they figured she wasn’t ready for the big time, she’s been looking for a story.” Skinny rubbed his smooth-shaven chin with thumb and forefinger. “Um-hmm.”

  “I see.” Although he didn’t understand what the man was talking about. Eyeing the tiny desserts, Josh figured since he wasn’t going anywhere for a moment he might as well try Joe’s offerings. They were different from his mother’s homemade variety. He chose a small square covered in smooth, blue icing, with a candy flower on top. He wondered if his mother worried about competition. Maybe if he planted the idea in her head, she wouldn’t be so attracted to the tea man.

  “She asked Hawkeye a few questions about his army days.” Skinny chuckled. “But Hawkeye won’t talk unless he wants to. She struck out.”

  The crowd quieted. Josh could see Joe’s tall form standing next to the wall of tea in glass jars. A camera was set on a tripod. But, being seated, Josh couldn’t see the interviewer. Sponge cake. The pretty icing-covered dessert was sponge cake on the inside.

  “I’m here at Tea for You in Bear Meadows with proprietor Joe Kowalsky. Tell me, Joe, what brings you to Bear Meadows?”

  Josh’s ears pricked. He didn’t hear Joe’s answer, his mind denying what his brain was telling him. He recognized the voice of the interviewer. He stood and stared over the heads of the crowd with disbelief at the young woman next to Joe, microphone in hand. The interviewer was the woman he had rescued from the snowdrift. The woman he had spent the night with in his cabin. The person he had hoped to never see again despite the fact he found her the most intriguing woman he had met in a long time. Wendy. And she looked beautiful. The shiny black hair curled just under her chin. She wore a navy dress with a matching jacket.

  He thought she was a teacher. College grad. Living in a small town. She had to be a teacher. But as he watched her direct her bright-eyed gaze from the camera lens to Joe, his heart gradually sank into his toes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WALT HAD LIKED that first remote broadcast from Little Bear Creek.

  His message had been about the open house for the new tea shop in town. Did she want to interview the proprietor? “What happened to Casey doing the interviews?” she’d asked.

  “Just never mind and throw in some weather while you’re at it,” he’d replied.

  So here she was, asking the middle-aged man what brought him to Bear Meadows. She had glanced at the camera to make sure the light was on and scanned the crowd when she realized the proprietor hadn’t answered. He seemed to have withdrawn. Maybe the crowd had given him stage fright. “Do you have ties to the area?”

  His face brightened. “My mother grew up on the farm where my uncles still live. She taught music at Carnegie Mellon University. She’s written and recorded a number of songs over her lifetime. She had a beautiful voice.”

  “Do you sing?” Wendy noticed someone moving at the back of the crowd, but at the same time her reporter’s intuition told her there was more to this man than tea.

  “Not at all.” He stopped for a minute as if uncertain what to say next. Then he brightened. “My mother and I traveled to Asia frequently, and I became interested in teas. We carry over one hundred varieties here. Why don’t I show you how to brew loose tea and the differences between brewing herbal, black and green teas? I’ll need a few minutes to set things up.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Thanks, Joe.” Wondering how
many viewers she could attract to watch a man boil water, she turned back to the camera. “Later we’ll show a segment on how to brew the perfect cup of tea.” She lowered the microphone and shut off the camera. Her instincts hummed. Something about that interview didn’t feel right, and why all the movement in the back of the room?

  Gathering up the camera and the tripod, she was trying to be careful so that she didn’t bump anybody, when she came face-to-face with the man from the cabin. Her fingers and toes tingled. “Josh.” She set the equipment out of the way, avoiding the table with the desserts. “What are you doing here?”

  He ran a hand over his blue plaid shirt and appeared decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. I was visiting my mother at the bakery and somehow I ended up here.” He pulled at the threads where he had lost a button. “You must think I really am a mountain man.”

  Wendy was reminded she had shoved the button in her jeans pocket. She should return it. “Your beard practically guarantees it.”

  His gaze flicked to the camera. “So, you’re a news reporter.”

  Somehow he made the question sound distasteful, and Wendy got the impression he didn’t care much for the profession. Over his shoulder Wendy saw Sue Hunter come out of the back room with Joe. “I think your mom is looking for you.” When Josh turned to follow her gaze, Wendy noticed his face hardened as soon as he caught sight of Joe on his mother’s heels.

  Sue’s brow wrinkled as she looked from Wendy to Josh. “Do you two know each other?”

  When neither answered, Sue directed her attention to Josh.

  Josh answered with a sideways look at Wendy. “I might have saved her life.”

  Feeling the heat rise into her cheeks, Wendy glanced from Josh to his mother and Joe, staring at her curiously. “You didn’t save my life. I would’ve dug myself out...eventually.” Wendy valued her independence. That Josh was convinced she couldn’t solve the predicament was irritating.

  Josh crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his chin. “You would have frozen to death.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have.” The words came out louder than she intended, causing Cheri from the consignment shop to raise an eyebrow. Cheri was perusing the desserts.

  “I see.” Sue, wide-eyed and wincing, scanned the room.

  Josh cleared his throat. “Mom, Thanksgiving is next week. Are you cooking dinner?”

  Sue didn’t look at her son, instead she focused on fiddling with the silver buckle at her waist. “I hadn’t thought about it.” She glanced at Joe.

  Josh rocked back on his heels and placed one hand on his mom’s arm, as if to draw his mother’s attention away from Joe. “Why don’t we have dinner at the house, for old times’ sake?”

  Sue’s eyes narrowed but before she could say a word Josh continued. “Dinner for four shouldn’t be hard, Mom. I’ll help. I mean, you can’t cook a holiday dinner at the bakeshop, right?” He glanced at Wendy. “Since your folks are out of town, you might as well come too, Wendy.”

  She might as well come? What kind of an invitation was that? Both mother and son looked at her expectantly. “Uh, actually...”

  But without waiting for Wendy’s response, Sue had turned to the tea shop proprietor. “But Joe—”

  Wendy had the feeling he wished he had disappeared, as well.

  “I’m taking my uncles to a new restaurant in Shadow Falls,” Joe explained. He glanced around the room. “If you’ll excuse me, it looks like people are leaving. I want to say goodbye.” He headed toward the door.

  “Great, everyone has somewhere to go.” Josh crossed his arms in satisfaction, a habit Wendy was beginning to recognize. He liked to be in control.

  Sue watched Joe wend a path through the thinning crowd. “Joe’s mother passed away a few months ago. This will be their first Thanksgiving without her. I wanted to—”

  “Look, sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’m not dressed for a tea party.” With a glance at Wendy, Josh headed for the back. “See you later.”

  Wendy wondered if the last comment was directed at his mother or her. “I should take some shots out front before I go. Mrs. Hunter, Josh shouldn’t have invited me to Thanksgiving. I—”

  “No, it’s fine.” Sue watched her son as he stopped at one of the tea tables and shook hands with Hawkeye. “If he wants dinner at the house, the least I can do is accommodate him. And I go by Campbell now.”

  Wendy shook her head. Maybe Josh was right. His family was a lot more complicated than hers. She was about to take the camera outside for those exterior shots when she heard a woman’s voice with a sense of urgency. She backed into the space behind the checkout counter and peered between Mrs. Hershberger and Rose Hoffman, who were discussing their teas.

  A petite woman in a knee-length, red winter coat was patting Joe on his lavender tie, talking animatedly. The humming started again; Wendy’s intuition was on high alert. The woman’s facial expression was bright with excitement, not that of someone just coming in for a free cup of tea and a pastry.

  Wendy placed the camera on the tripod and positioned it between Mrs. Hershberger and Mrs. Hoffman. Then she turned on the camera. What did she have to lose? She could always delete. She stood on her tiptoes and strained to hear what the woman in the red coat was saying. By now, the commotion had attracted the attention of Rose and Vera.

  “I’m looking for Joey Smith. Everyone used to call him Hawkeye, but I always called him Joey.” She pulled off her scarf, revealing a neat cap of soft, white curls. “You must be the nephew, his namesake.”

  Joe wore the same look he wore when Wendy mentioned his being from Pittsburgh, as if he wanted the conversation to end, or time to go backward. “Yes, ma’am.” He threw a worried look toward the back of the room.

  She followed Joe’s gaze to where Hawkeye stood behind the long table, closing up tea containers and covering the leftover petits fours.

  “Joey?” Throwing her coat over the back of a chair, the older woman walked toward him with a big smile. The remaining townspeople backed away, allowing for an open space in the middle of the tearoom. They might have been watching live theater. “Have I finally found you?”

  Wendy rotated the camera, following her new star. Her sister used to do this kind of thing all the time, catching people unawares with the camera.

  In the middle of tilting a scoop of loose tea leaves into a small bag, Hawkeye glanced up at the sound of the woman’s voice. His mouth dropped open. His hazel eyes widened. The tea filled the bag and spilled onto the table.

  The woman pressed a manicured hand to her chest. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Hawkeye gulped and set the metal scoop on the counter with a clang. “Betty?” His face turned white. His hand clutched his chest. For a minute Wendy feared they would need to call the paramedics. Seeing movement, she glanced at the door leading into the kitchen. Josh hadn’t left after all, and he was staring at her with eyes so narrow she couldn’t see the blue. She felt a brief disappointment, and then peered into the viewfinder and smiled at what she saw. Drama, drama, drama.

  “Betty?” Gripping the edge of the table, Hawkeye eased himself onto a stool. “What are you doing here?”

  Wendy let out a breath. Color had returned to the older man’s face. No paramedics. Skinny, on the other hand, sat stiffly at a nearby table, clearly unhappy.

  Silence ensued until Sue approached Betty, hand outstretched. “I’m Suzanna Campbell. Can I help you?”

  Betty accepted Sue’s handshake. “My name is Betty. Betty Marino. I used to be Betty Fleck. I grew up in the area.”

  Sue’s eyebrows rose as her blue eyes widened. “You’re Betty?”

  The woman laughed. “I see you’ve heard of me.” But the laughter faded as she shot Skinny a withering stare. “Not from Jacob, I hope.”

  “Jacob?” Sue’s brow wrinkled
just as it had when she came upon Wendy and Josh talking together.

  Joe just shook his head. Wendy was enjoying the developing story. She couldn’t wait to play it back. The expressions on these faces were priceless.

  “I believe the locals know him as Skinny. He was sickly as a child.” She turned back to Hawkeye. “Joey, there’s someone I want you to meet.” She motioned with her hand.

  From the crowd emerged a slim young woman with long blond hair. She stopped next to Joe. His words came out in a whisper. “I can’t believe it. You look just like—”

  “Your mother,” Hawkeye said and stared at the girl.

  “She’s your granddaughter, Joey. Her name is Jessie. And she has a twin brother back in California. I thought the time had come for you to know.”

  “She’s named after my sister?”

  Wendy resisted the urge to fist pump. This was good stuff. Wait till Walt saw this footage. And all because she was covering the opening of a little ole tea shop. Then she glanced back at the kitchen. The doorway was empty.

  “Well, what do you know about that?” Deb Gold directed her question to Bill the mailman.

  “Well, it ain’t over, yet.” Bill rolled his eyes.

  Deb poked him in the ribs. “What are you talking about? And don’t say ain’t. It’s not proper for a civil servant.”

  “Don’t you know? Secrets out in threes. We’re not done.” The mailman pursed his lips.

  Deb leaned in close to her friend and whispered in his ear. “Death comes in threes, not secrets.”

  Bill shook his head. “No, I’m sure. It’s secrets. My grandmother had the second sight, and that’s what she used to say. I’m sure of it.”

  Wendy tightened her fingers around the mike in her hand. She had never heard secrets out in threes. But no matter. If there were two more secrets somewhere in the little burg, she would find them. She started across the room to ask Hawkeye about his love child.

  * * *