For the Love of Pete

by Debby Mayne

  “Sort of,” Naomi explained. “Each level gets a small prize, like maybe dinner for two at The Fancy Schmantzy or breakfast at The Pink Geranium Tea Room. But we can still offer a grand prize for the person who brings in the most folks.”

  “Like what?”

  Andy held up Murray’s birdcage. “A weekend with Murray?”

  Pamela shot him a silly look before rolling her eyes. “We’re trying to attract people, not scare them away.”

  Naomi pointed to Bethany. “We’ll decide on the grand prize later. We can offer a variety of smaller prizes, though, like my daughter’s . . . antiques.”

  Bethany caught the tone of her mother’s voice as she said the word antiques. Naomi had never understood Bethany’s collections—from the shaped and scented erasers she collected when she was a little girl to the posters and T-shirts of her favorite bands when she became a teenager. She also had shoeboxes filled with memorabilia from dates with Charlie and fun times with friends.

  “Why don’t we have an official meeting about this so we don’t leave anyone out?” Pamela said. “The garden club members get mighty testy if they think we’re working behind the scenes.”

  The only people Bethany saw as testy were Pamela and Naomi, but she didn’t say a word. Pete looked at her and smiled his understanding. At least she had one ally in the room.

  Murray started squawking again, so Andy stood. “We best be getting on home. I think Murray has had just about all he can take for one night.”

  “Why did you even bother to bring him?” Naomi asked. “It’s not like you were here all that long. Can’t he stay home by himself for a couple of hours?”

  “You know how lonely he gets. I’ve been gone most of the afternoon, so I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave him again.”

  Pamela glared at Murray. “That bird is worse than having a toddler around. At least you know the child will eventually grow up.”

  After Pamela, Andy, and Murray left, Naomi chatted with Miss Gertie for a few minutes. Bethany stayed in the living room, remembering the days when she couldn’t see through some of her mother’s schemes.

  Once again, the overwhelming urge to pull Bethany away from the crowd for a kiss had to be squelched. Every time Pete looked into her blue eyes, he felt as though he’d lost another piece of himself. But right now, he could see she was doing everything she could to avoid looking back at him.

  After Pamela and Andy left, Naomi and his mom went into the kitchen to do more planning, leaving him alone with Bethany. “So what do you think about our mothers’ new scheme?”

  She shrugged. “That’s exactly what I think—it’s a scheme. They always have something brewing. I suppose this is as good as any of the others.”

  He laughed. “Yes, that’s true. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if their plan backfired and more people came here to live?”

  “I’ll be shocked if that happens, but . . .”

  “This is Bloomfield, after all, right?” He laughed as he finished her sentence. “And I bet some people will love getting some of your tchotchkes.”

  “Tchotchkes?” She tilted her head.

  “Yeah. Your knickknacks.”

  “Is that what you think of my collectibles?” She pursed her lips and glanced down.

  “Um . . . no. I’m just speaking in general.” He needed to stop talking. Her nerves were already raw enough. “Look, Bethany, I don’t want to upset you . . . ever.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell as she sighed. “I know, Pete, and I’m really sorry for being so sensitive. It’s just that Mom’s been after me to clear out the clutter, and then the way you looked at it last time you were over . . .” She lifted her hands and let them fall to her sides. “Plus all the comments tonight. Everything I own means something—memories and happier times. I know I need to get rid of some of that stuff, but . . .” She shrugged. “Well, it’s just not that easy.”

  He wanted to tell her she needed to clear out the clutter to make way for more happy times, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod.

  Naomi’s voice coming toward them snapped them to attention. Bethany stiffened, and Pete leaned back on the sofa.

  “Ready to go?” Naomi stopped in her tracks. “I didn’t interrupt anything here, did I?”

  “No, of course not.” Bethany tossed her shoulder-length blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled at Pete. “We were just talking about what a brilliant plan our mothers had. I mean, how can anyone resist trying for one of my figurines that has been in the Hanahan family for forty or more years? Who wouldn’t uproot a family and leave a job just to get their hands on a complete collection of Hummel figurines? We’ll wind up with more people in Bloomfield than we have room for.”

  Naomi tilted her head and frowned. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  Bethany pointed a thumb to her chest. “Me? Sarcastic? Why would you ever think that?”

  Pete kept quiet.

  After a restless night of tossing and turning, Bethany schlepped to the kitchen, nearly tripping over the stool she’d moved from the foyer to the small eating area. If she ever did decide to de-clutter, the stool would be first on the list. But then, how could she let go of a precious memory decorated with creative, loving hands? She sighed. This was too much to think about before her first cup of coffee.

  She’d barely sat down with her muffin and coffee when the phone rang. It was Pete.

  “Have you gone anywhere today?” he asked.

  She glanced at the clock. “It’s only ten, and I slept in, so no, I’m just now eating breakfast.”

  “Then I guess I better warn you. Our mothers haven’t wasted a second.”

  Bethany felt that old familiar tingle of alarm. “What have they done now?”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  The closest thing to sit on was the stool, so she lowered herself to it. Before she had a chance to say another word, it gave way, and she crashed to the floor. As she righted herself, she saw two of the four legs on the stool had broken off.

  “Bethany! What happened? Are you okay?”

  She rubbed her bottom and sighed. “I’m fine. I just broke the stool.” She picked up the remnants and set them by the back door to take to the garbage. Then she crossed the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and sat. “So what did our mothers do?”

  “Maybe I better wait to tell you. Sounds like you’re not quite ready yet.”

  “No, tell me now.” If the worst thing that happened to her all day was breaking the stool, she’d be fine. But she suspected that was only the beginning.

  Pete cleared his throat. “They’ve already plastered posters and handbills all over town.”

  “I’m not surprised. Once my mother sets her mind to something, she doesn’t waste a second.”

  “That’s not all. Apparently, your mother considers all your collectibles fair game for the prize selection, and she’s offering three complete sets of Hummels, heirloom quilts, and other stuff she’s calling antique bric-a-brac.”

  “Maybe it’s not my stuff she’s offering.”

  “I just happened to wind up with one of the flyers, and here’s what it says.” As Pete read the list, she mentally ticked off the items throughout her house. Her mother hadn’t come right out and put her name on the flyers, but there was no doubt it was Bethany’s stuff. Anger welled in Bethany’s chest as she remembered why she and Charlie had decided to move away in the first place.

  Bethany forced her voice to sound calm, until she got off the phone with Pete. Then she let out a low growl. Naomi’s interference had to be stalled. It was time for a confrontation, but she didn’t feel like facing her mother, so she picked up the phone and punched in Naomi’s number.

  “Mom, we need to talk.”

  Naomi’s breath whooshed through the phone l
ine as she let out a deep sigh. “I was afraid of this.”

  “You really need to stop making decisions for me without at least discussing them with me first.”

  “If you’re talking about the donations, I thought you were ready to let go of some of your things.” She paused. “You are, aren’t you?”

  “Well . . . yes.”

  “Listen, sweetie, I was just trying to help. If it upsets you that much to do this, tell me now, and I’ll find someone else who has stuff to get rid of. Do you need some time to think about it?”

  Naomi had taken some of the sting away, and now that Bethany thought about it, she was ready to move forward. Donating some of her collectibles—and junk—might be painful at first, but after it was over, she didn’t think she’d miss it. “No, I’m ready.”

  “Good. So did you need something else?”

  “Yes,” Bethany replied. “In the future, before you commit me to anything else, you need to discuss it with me first.”

  “I will.” The sound of contrition in her mother’s voice warmed her heart. “I’m sorry I didn’t do that this time, but from now on, I’ll try to behave.”

  Bethany laughed. No matter how overbearing her mother was, she couldn’t stay mad at her long. “Thanks. I’ll hold you to that.”

  Chapter 4

  Even with her eyes tired from lack of sleep, Bethany wouldn’t have been able to miss the hot pink signs on every lamp post and store window in town. Pete was right. Her mother didn’t waste time.

  She went into the card shop where Sherry Butler stood behind the counter. “Do you know about this new contest?”

  Sherry grinned and nodded. “The garden club had an emergency breakfast meeting this morning.”

  “Were you there?”

  “Yes, and I even had some reservations about their plan. I mean, it is rather strange, but . . .” She shrugged. “You know how Pamela and Naomi can be when they get their minds set on something.”

  Bethany chuckled. “And when they’re on the same team, they’re formidable.”

  “Fortunately, that’s not usually the case.” Sherry came around from behind the counter. “Can I help you find a card or new figurine? We just got some new ones in last week.”

  As tempting as it was to browse, Bethany shook her head. “Better not. I don’t need to give my mother more prizes for her little contest.”

  “So it’s true they’re using your collectibles. That’s really sweet and generous of you. I know how much you love Hummels.”

  Bethany offered a closed-mouth smile but didn’t say a word. No point in showing what might appear to be a lack of generosity at the moment. Even after her talk with Naomi, she had a knot in the pit of her stomach about letting go of so many of her things.

  “Do you think the contest will work?” Sherry asked. “It seems like a rather odd plan.”

  “I have no idea if it’ll work, but this is Bloomfield we’re talking about.”

  “True.” Sherry grinned. “We’re supposed to get as many donations as possible. Businesses all over town have offered items and gift cards. I’ll call the owner of the card shop to ask if we can donate something to the cause, but I’m still not sure that’s enough incentive for someone to pick up and move to Bloomfield.”

  “I know. I think this is just an excuse to have another festival.”

  “We’ve barely gotten past the Christmas and New Year’s festivals and parades. I would think they’d want a break.” Sherry frowned. “Being vice-president of the garden club, I’ll have to do a lot of the work. This isn’t such a good time for me, having to work full-time and plan my wedding.”

  “Let me know if you need help with the wedding,” Bethany offered. “That’s something that actually makes sense.”

  Sherry grinned. “I might take you up on that. Naomi offered to help, but I thought I’d ask her to act as mother-of-the-bride . . . that is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, I don’t mind.” Bethany smiled. “You were always like a sister to me. Naomi has always loved you.”

  Sherry cleared her throat as her eyes started to glisten. “I love Naomi too. And you.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “So is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Do you have any extra flyers I can have?” Bethany asked.

  Sherry pulled one out from beneath the counter. “Here you go.”

  Bethany left the card shop and went straight to Pamela’s house to see if there was any way she could change the garden club’s tactics. She knocked on the door, and Pamela answered within seconds.

  “What do you need, Bethany?” Pamela blocked the doorway and didn’t even bother to ask her in.

  Bethany lifted the flyer. “I wondered about this. Where are you getting all the prizes . . . that is, besides the ones I’m donating?”

  Pamela tilted her head, squinted her overly mascaraed eyes, and gave Bethany an incredulous look. “You were there last night, so you know pretty much everything.” She took a step back as something apparently dawned on her. “Oh, I get it. You’re upset that we didn’t call you in for the breakfast meeting.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “I understand, but time was of the essence, and since Naomi was there, we didn’t see the need to bother you so early.”

  Bethany sighed. This wasn’t going well. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  A slow smile spread across Pamela’s lips. “I hope you know how much we appreciate your donations. It’s such a wonderful cause. Once we reach a population of ten thousand, we shouldn’t have any trouble getting into the Best Small Towns in America book, and that will do wonders for all our fine homegrown businesses. Then the town will grow without any help from us. I have to admit, your mother’s idea for this festival was brilliant.”

  “She and Miss Gertie came up with the reward program. The festival idea was yours.”

  Pamela’s grin widened. “Oh yeah, that’s right. It was my idea, wasn’t it?”

  “But do you think—?”

  Pamela’s smile quickly faded to a look of concern. “It’s such a shame our businesspeople have to struggle so much to keep their doors open. We simply don’t have enough residents here in Bloomfield to support all of our many small businesses. People like you are such assets to the community.” She stepped back and gestured for Bethany to come inside. “Why don’t you come on in for some coffee?”

  Pamela had just zapped Bethany’s will. “No thank you. I just wanted to know if there was anything else I can do.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there’ll be plenty for you to do once we start working on the Welcome to Bloomfield parade.”

  “Welcome to Bloomfield parade?”

  “Yes, we decided since we’re having a Welcome to Bloomfield festival, we’d do it up big and add a parade,” Pamela explained. “We thought it might draw more attention from visitors if we had a big show.”

  “Does the mayor know about this?”

  Pamela’s hesitation was all the answer Bethany needed. “Well . . .”

  “So what all are you doing besides a parade and rummage sale?”

  “Everything.” Pamela nodded and made huge, sweeping gestures with her hands, fluttering her fingernails. Today they were peach colored with small, opalescent crescent shapes painted on each one. “Pony rides and arcade games and talent shows—the works.” She sighed. “We’re planning a huge campaign with radio spots in all the big cities within five hundred miles.” She tilted her head forward. “I think you should come inside so I can tell you all about it. I’ve been working on plans.”

  “What if it snows?”

  Pamela forced a frown. “Yeah, that could be a problem. We discussed the possibility of inclement weather at the breakfast meeting.” Her eyebrows shot up. “But if that happens, we can bring indoors as much of the entertainment and games as we can fit in
the community center. On the flip side, if the weather is nice, we can add more outdoor events like lawn bowling and horseshoes and sack races and—”

  “I—”

  Before Bethany could finish her sentence, Pamela grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, closing the door with her other hand. “I have a nice big basket filled with all sorts of delicious treats from the bakery. Would you like coffee or tea?”

  Knowing Pamela’s take-no-prisoners manners, Bethany went along with her. “Coffee.”

  “Good, because that’s what I’m having. I hope you like cinnamon-pecan.”

  Fortunately, Bethany liked any type of coffee. “Yes, I like it very much.”

  “Come on back,” Pamela said, as she let go of Bethany’s arm. “And relax. You’re way too uptight. I don’t understand why so many people act all buttoned-up around me. It’s almost like folks are afraid of me, or they think I’ll judge them or something. And you know me . . .” She turned around and smiled at Bethany. “I’d never judge anyone. That’s the Lord’s job. My job is to keep things running smoothly in Bloomfield.”

  Actually, her job was to run the Bloomfield Garden Club as president, but Bethany never would have said that to Pamela. The aroma of fresh-brewed flavored coffee wafted from the kitchen and down the long hallway, melding with the fragrance of lemon-scented household cleaners. Bethany had been to Pamela’s house a number of times, and it always smelled wonderful.

  When they reached the kitchen, Pamela pointed one of her talons toward the table. “Sit. I’ll bring some plates and the basket of pastries to the table.”

  Bethany had to scoot one of the chairs around to a clear spot on the table. “Are we holding this talent show, parade, and festival on the same weekend you were originally planning the sale?”

  Pamela turned around with the basket and moved toward her. “Probably, but that’s something we’ll need to discuss with the garden club. Speaking of which, when do you plan to start attending meetings regularly? Naomi said you wanted to get more involved. What’s stopping you?”

  Bethany hated being put on the spot about anything related to the garden club. Naomi had always been so active, Bethany sometimes wondered if her mother knew the difference between family and her club. “I don’t know that I’d be all that much help.”