“You two never did get along very well,” replies Viola. “He means well, he really does. But I don’t think he realizes just how much more than a house and a town this place is to me.
“Little Hill is my entire life. I was born here. I was here before the town square had even completely come up. I want to be here to see this town grow until the end of my days. This is my town.
“Do you see those light blue shutters, and the rails on the porch with the rose bushes planted all the way around and the woodwork on the swing? Bobby did that all, just for me. That bench over there in between those two pear trees is where we were sitting when I told him I was pregnant with Bo’s father.
“Every moment I am alive I will live in and appreciate all of his hard work and dedication to make me the perfect home to raise my family.
“My every want in a home and in a husband, he fulfilled, and I will not show any lack of respect to that man. God rest his soul.”
A slight smile creeps upon Katherine’s lips, “So how about that light bulb?” As they walk into the house Katherine feels like a ton of bricks has been lifted off of her chest.
“Thank you, Katy bug,” says Miss Viola as Katherine walks up the steps into the house to replace the light bulb.
It’s been a long, emotionally trying day and she could use some relaxation and a good night’s sleep. As Katherine comes up to her driveway, she stands still for a moment, looking up at her little country style house with the hanging planters around the front and the white rocking chair on the porch, and wonders, “Will I ever be able to leave this place?”
She gets changed into a night gown, makes a cup of chamomile tea and grabs her Bible and snuggles into her plush bed. Reading Proverbs 31, she wonders if she will ever find a man to share her life with, to whom she could be the kind of wife that she desires to be, and to have him build her the perfect home, just like Bobby had done for Miss Viola. After all, she is 25 now, and if what Agnes Jones says is true, all of the fish in the sea will be swallowed up if she waits too much longer.
Bo boards his plane to make the thirty-five-minute flight to James City. There isn’t an airport in Little Hill, so that is as close as he will get. He despises long car trips and much prefers to view the sights from the top.
Flirting with the cute blonde flight attendant with the name Susan written on her name tag, he finds that the look on her face is screaming, “Take your bottle of water and leave me alone.”
“Eh,” he brushes it off. “This is her job, she must get hit on by every lonely traveler that boards the plane,” he thinks to himself.
Bo has a lot more strategizing to do anyway, if he is going to get his poor old grandmother to move to Dallas. No time for flirting with a woman I will most probably never lay eyes on again. He closes his eyes and leans back in his seat to think, only to awaken thirty minutes later to Susan’s voice coming over the intercom.
“Everyone please buckle your seat belts, we are preparing to land at James City international airport. The weather is 78 degrees, partly cloudy with 5 mile per hour winds. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with us. Please stay seated until we have come to a complete stop and the seat belt sign is off.”
As they file off of the plane one by one, Bo tries to figure out in which direction the rent-a-car center is. As he steps up to the desk, the clerk, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else, says, “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”
“I need to rent a car,” says Bo.
“Of course, you need to rent a car,” replies the man, “why else would you be standing in front of me?” “Is there any preference that you have?”
“No,” replies Bo, shocked by the rudeness of this fellow.
“Ok, well, sign here, here, here, and here, initial here, and how long will you need the car?”
“One week,” replies Bo as he signs the contract.
The discontent rent-a-car man hands Bo a set of keys and tells him the directions out to the rentals lot. “It’s in slot 107,” says the man.
Bo gives a nod and walks quickly in the direction of his car. When he gets to slot 107, he sulks his head when he sees the pink beetle and checks the emblem on his keys. “Volkswagen” he says aloud. “A pink beetle? This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. How dare he give me a pink beetle!” And then he remembers the man asking if he had any preferences to which he replied “no”.
Stomping his foot on the ground, he pops open the trunk and tosses in his luggage, slams it shut, and plops down into the driver seat. “This is the tiniest car ever!” he shouts to himself as he moves the seat all the way back as far as it will go. “Well, here goes nothing,” he says as he starts it up and pulls out of the parking lot.
Back at the bakery, Katherine is beating Dylan Jones away with a broomstick after selling him two more loaves of banana bread to make sure he does not need to come back for any reason for at least two more days.
“Sheesh,” she says to Becky, “do you think he will ever get the hint?”
“Oh, he probably just thinks you are trying to play hard to get. I don’t think that boy will understand anything other than ‘Dylan, I wouldn’t date you even if you buy every loaf of banana bread I make for an entire year.’
They laugh hysterically as Sally comes in late, again, for her shift.
“I’m so sorry, girls,” Sally says. “I am just a mess today, my head has been killing me all morning. I’m getting light-headed and dizzy, I don’t know what is wrong with me.”
“Sally, you should have called,” replies Katherine.
“Oh Katherine, I know, I’m sorry I was just in a rush to get here…”
“No, no, no,” says Katherine, “you should have called in to say that you wouldn’t be here today because you are ill. Take the day off to rest. Make a doctor’s appointment to find out what’s the matter, hun, it doesn’t sound too good.”
“I wouldn’t want to leave Becky short-handed here all day, I have to bake the muffins and start four more pies, order more cream.”
“Sally,” says Katherine in a stern motherly tone, “go home, lie down, and call Dr. Meyers. Those are boss’s orders.”
“But what about Becky?” asks Sally.
“I will stay here and help her until you are well. It’s no problem, I promise. Now go on before you get the whole lot of us sick,” she says with a grin.
Bo makes his way all the way down highway 79 until he sees nothing but rolling hills, trees and flowers. “It is especially peaceful out here,” he thinks to himself as he drives along the quiet, empty highway. After a few four way intersections, he sees the large old wooden sign “Welcome to Little Hill” “The Smallest Town with the Biggest Charm” is engraved on it. You can barely read it from how old and deteriorated it is.
As he approaches the town, memories from his childhood come racing back to him. There is the school he went to on the left, with children swinging on the same swing set he once swung on. “Gosh, you would think they would have upgraded that by now,” he says aloud to himself. Nevertheless, the kids are enjoying it as if it was a state of the art playground. The merry-go-round is still there, kids happily spinning and laughing. It brings him back to a more peaceful time in his life when his days weren’t filled with endless paperwork and arguments to be prepared; instead, just enjoying the fresh air and freedom to play and imagine.
All of the bushes of flowers are the most beautiful things he has seen in years, the yellows and pinks and purples, the bright lush green grass. An overwhelming sense of happiness comes upon him, along with a wide smile across his face.
“I know,” Bo says aloud, “I will bring Mammy her favorite peach tea and apple turnover from Mr. Bates’ bake shop. I bet she hasn’t had those in forever. Now stop talking to yourself, Bo.”
He pulls up to Bates Bake Shop in his pink Volkswagen beetle and hops out, only to face the reality of the car that he has just pulled up in. Shaking his head still in disbelief at the gall of that man to rent him a pink girly car, he
opens the door to the bakery, expecting to see Mr. Bates behind the counter, with his apron on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. Instead he sees Becky, whom he hasn’t seen since high school.
“Well I’ll be,” says Becky, “Bo Brogan, whatever have we done to have you grace us small town folk with your presence” as she walks over and gives his hand a tight squeeze.
“It’s been way too long, old friend,” Bo replies. Becky and Bo were best friends all through school; Katy, on the other hand, couldn’t stand Bo in all of his arrogance. They did not get on well at all. It wasn’t until after Bo had moved to the city to start college that Becky and Katy became close.
Katy comes walking out from the kitchen and rounds the corner to see Bo standing there in his nice Armani suit and shiny shoes. He is much bigger than she remembers from years ago, his shoulders are much broader and his eyes sparkle just a little. His emerald green eyes go well with his perfectly tan skin and light brown, well-combed hair and his nice tan suit. He doesn’t see her yet, so she stands gazing at him for a few moments before he realizes she is there.
“Katy,” Bo says, “is that you?” “Boy, you sure have grown up since the last time I saw you. Where’s your old pops at? I want one of his famous root-beer floats. Man, I remember coming here almost every day after football practice to have one of those.”
“Dad passed away a few years ago, Bo, you would have known that if you came around more. I don’t think your grandmother has even seen you in ages. What are you trying to pull by getting your mammy to move up to Dallas, anyway? Don’t you have any regard for other peoples’ lives?”
“I’m sorry about your father, Katy, I didn’t know. No one said anything. You know about my wanting Mammy to move up to Dallas?” says Bo.
“Of course, I know about that. I was walking her home from church when we found that hoity-toity secretary of yours sitting in her car, waiting to sink her claws into Miss Viola with all of her offers of luxury this and that.”
“Just what exactly is your plan, Bo?” says Katy. “What do you have to gain by ripping her out of the place she has known all of her life?”
Feeling the tension and knowing the conversation was about to get extremely heated, Becky excuses herself to the kitchen.
“I’m established now, Katy,” says Bo. “I would like to take Mammy to live with me in my new building so that I can give her the best of everything. I am her only grandchild, I need to take care of her.”
“Your arrogance sure has not gone anywhere over the years. You would think it would at least die down a little with age.
“You probably don’t know this,” Katy states with sassy look, “but she’s doing just fine taking care of herself. I help out as much as she needs me to, which isn’t much. She is a pretty tough old lady for her age and she has all of the support that she needs right here.
“You haven’t even been to visit in years, I don’t know what makes you think that you can just step in now and try to take over her life, like you would even know what’s best for her.”
“Well, I am on my way over there now to surprise her,” says Bo, “all I need is sweet peach tea and an apple turnover, do you think you could get that for me?”
“She prefers bear claws to apple turnovers lately,” Katy says.
“How do you know?” replies Bo.
“I spend a lot of time with her. It will be about five minutes for your order, I have to make a new batch of tea.”
“The quicker the better,” he says, confused and completely unaware of what he had just walked in to.
Bo had no idea how close his grandmother and Katy had grown over the years. He did not know he would have her wrath to deal with in trying to get his grandmother to move into the city. This might just be much harder than he had originally planned.
“She’s beautiful,” Bo thinks to himself as he sits there at the bar, watching her mix the tea and pull out the pastries to warm them up. Just then, Martha Jenkins and Paulette Andrews come through the bake shop doors.
“Oh my heavens! Well, if it isn’t little Bo Brogan, look at you! You must have grown 5 feet since I have seen you last. You’ve turned into such a handsome young man. Isn’t he handsome, Katy?” Martha says.
Katy looks in her direction and gives a little shrug of her shoulders.
“Look at those beautiful green eyes; you look just like your grandfather did when he was your age,” says Paulette. “You’re going to have to come by the shop and let me give you a little trim, my treat.”
“How long are you here for?” asks Martha.
“About a week,” says Bo, “I took a week off of work and I thought I would come down here and see how mammy is doing.”
“Humph,” Katy says under her breath while adding ice to the tea, knowing his intentions all too well.
“Oh well, isn’t that wonderful? I know that will make Viola so happy to see her handsome, successful grandson come for a visit,” says Paulette. “Maybe you and Katy could go out to the theater while you are in town,” she lowers her voice, “and it’s been ages since she’s been on a date, you know.”
A huge smile comes across Bo’s face as Katy pretends she isn’t listening.
“Maybe so,” Bo says, “maybe so.”
“We will have two iced coffees,“ Martha says to Katy, “we are in a hurry to get to the flea market before all of the good stuff is gone.”
Katy quickly makes Paulette and Martha’s iced coffees and sends them on their way. She hands Bo his bag of bear claws and three peach iced teas in a carrying container.
“I only asked for one of each,” says Bo.
“You don’t think I am going to let you go over there by yourself now, do you? For all I know, you could tie her up and throw her in the trunk of your little pink beetle and I would never see her again.
“Besides, she owes me a turkey sandwich,” Katy says with big fat sassy smirk on her face.
“How did you know I drove a pink beetle, anyway?” asks Bo.
“Becky told me. It must take a whole bunk of money to buy a car that fits you so well,” she laughs, “now let’s go!”
Bo rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. “She sure is a beauty, but a bossy beauty,” he thinks to himself, halfway cracking a grin.
“What are you grinning at?” says Katy.
“Oh, just your annoying persistence,” says Bo.
“Becky, I will be back in a while. You should be able to handle it for now, give me a call if you need anything.”
“Aye, captain,” says Becky, giggling to herself as she watches them walk out the door. “Those two are a mess,” she says.
“So, are we walking or riding in the car?” says Bo.
“Um, well,” says Katy, “seeing as it is two blocks, what do you say we walk? She always gets up when she hears a car pull into the driveway, so she will see you before you get to the door if you drive. This way she won’t see you until she opens the door.”
“Good thinking,” replies Bo.
“Why are you doing this anyway, trying to get her to move? She is happy here, you know.”
“I just think she needs to be near better medical care and have someone to constantly watch over her, that’s all,” says Bo, withholding the full truth.
As they come around the corner and see Viola’s cottage, Bo gets excited in seeing that it is still in such great shape, it’s not what he was expecting at all. “Wow, even the gardening is taken care of!” he says.
“We all make sure she is taken care of, Bo. She may be your biological grandmother, but she is like a grandmother to half of this town too.”
As they make their way up the driveway they glance at each other as if saying “here goes”. Bo knocks on the door and Viola quickly opens it.
“I have been expecting you,” she says in an excited but not too excited tone. ”Hello, Katy bug,” she says, giving Katy a kiss on the cheek. She gives Bo a hug and leads the two inside.
“I brought you some peach tea and some apple tu
rnovers, I mean, bear claws. Katy says you prefer bear claws now.”
“Indeed, I do,” replies Viola. “Get down to it, Bo, why are you here?”
“I have come to spend some time with you, Mammy, to make sure that you are ok.”
“Bologna!” snaps Viola. “You sent that viper of a woman, Monica, here to make me all kinds of offers to move to Dallas. It didn’t work and now you are here to try and do the same.” “I might be old but I’m not ignorant,” she says with a finger pointed toward him.
“It’s not like that, Mammy, it’s just that I don’t like the fact that you don’t have the adequate care that you need available to you here in Little Hill. Dallas has much more appropriate medical facilities, for someone in your condition.”
Small Town Tango Page 2