He was a tough guy. He’d lived through the tenure process, after all. Gossip, back-biting, and close-quarters verbal sniping didn’t make him blink. He’d handled that slow burn of dislike for Frank. But the idea of Caroline being touched by Frank made him skip from calm logic to blowing an emotional fuse.
He had to get a grip on his emotions. The argument over Lexi was probably the biggest disagreement they’d ever had and he had a terrible suspicion that his jealousy played the biggest part in it.
“It's such a happiness when good people get together.”
Chapter Sixteen
Brooks cocked his head at the sound of a truck motor. “Must be the band.”
He helped his grandmother down from the stage and she went to the door, waving excitedly. Three African American men and an elderly woman exited the eighties extended cab truck. The pale blue paint had oxidized around the hood and one headlight was cracked. Absalom took an immediate interest in the tires, sniffing his way along in a full circuit.
“Brooks, this is Gideon West, our fiddler. John Asbury plays the banjo.” The first man tipped an old straw hat and gave a long, slow smile. The second nodded, holding up his instrument.
“Rufus Warren here plays the concertina and Jennie Purdy is our caller.” Rufus seemed held out a hand to Brooks and gripped hard. Brooks wondered if concertina players had bigger finger muscles than regular folks.
Jennie whispered something so softly he leaned down to hear. Her shoulders were stooped and one thick-soled shoe was higher than the other to make up for unequal lengths of her legs. “I’m glad we’re getting some new blood in here. All these old men can’t dance the jigs no more.”
Brooks blinked. “A jig? I’m not a dancer, ma’am. I’m just here to help out.”
“It’s not hard. Six/eight time. You can count to six, can’t you?”
“Even in my sleep, I reckon.”
“Good. Nobody comes to the dance and sits in the corner. It’s real bad manners.” Her brows lowered until they almost blocked her sight. Brooks sensed a whole lot of dancing in his near future.
“I’m not sure how everyone can come in without knowing any of the dances and it will work out. Don’t we all have to practice?” he asked.
“No, sir.” Rufus smiled that slow smile again. “We start with a melody, plain and simple. Show ‘em, Gideon.”
The older man tucked the fiddle under his chin and played a clear, lilting tune. While he was playing, Jenny spoke over him. “He keeps a-going on it. Then we gots to have some rhythm.” He pointed to Rufus, who unclasped what looked like a miniature accordion and joined in, lending a powerful rhythm to the same tune.
John waited a few bars then jumped in, the frantic strumming of the banjo actually pulling the instruments together. Jennie shuffled her feet a bit, weaving to the beat. “This one is Trippin’ Up the Stairs. It’s my favorite.” She held out her hand and Brooks took it, not sure what she mean for him to do.
“We be the top set and be walking through the hall.” She moved gracefully forward, singing phrases like ‘circle left’ and ‘hey for four’. Her feet moved faster than he could catch and he felt clumsy and awkward.
“You have a sweetheart?” she asked as the band played on.
“I- I don’t… I’m not sure…” he stammered, trying not to step on her toes. Breaking the elderly dance caller was not on his list of things to do.
“I’s understandin’ that as a yes.” She smiled at him. “You let me know when she’s your partner. I’ll call you some gypsies and a few court’sy turns.”
“Gypsies?”
She held out her thin arms, nodding for him to copy her. He held out his arms and the circled each other. “Look me in the eye, I know I’m a short one, but it’s all in the eyes.”
He tried his best to stare into her eyes, willing himself not to grin. If Manning could see him now, he’d fall over laughing.
“And the turn.” She took his left in hers, then motioned for him to put an arm around her waist, gripping her right hand. “Now we turn real slow.”
“Slow is good.” The music was fast, but the moves weren’t as frantic as the notes. He must be more than a foot taller than Jennie and he looked over her head to see his grandma smiling hugely.
She waved her hand and the players finished the last bar. “And we bow to each other.”
“Jennie, I’m so glad you all can help us out.” Blanche rushed forward, hands outstretched. “These young folk don’t know how to woo a woman. This will be the loveliest dance we’ve had in years.”
They held hands for a moment, nodding at each other. His grandma was a plotter and usually finagled her own way, no matter what the obstacles were. The usual constraints of time, place, and manner didn’t apply to her. And now there seemed to be two of her. Brooks wondered if the universe could withstand two little old ladies bound and determined to wreak romantic havoc on Thorny Hollow.
“I hear you, Miss Blanche. My granddaughter Stephanie never takes those silly plugs out of her ears long enough to hear the real music we got. These reels come straight down from my great-great- grand pappy but she more interested in some kid with diamonds stuck in his teeth.” She shook her head. “The music don’t have a bit of tune, either. Just noise.”
“You’ve got to bring her! Tell her to wear something long, like she’s from a hundred years ago.”
Jennie shrugged. “I’ll do my best. Most of the time she wears shorts that don’t hardly cover her hind end. Lord have mercy, I despair over these children.”
Brooks couldn’t imagine this modern teenager putting on a Regency costume and coming to dance with a bunch of Thorny Hollow professionals. But stranger things had happened. This moment in time, for instance.
“Well, I better get Brooks home so he can finish his project. We’ll spit polish this old place and have it all decorated. I can’t thank you enough for giving us your time.”
“It’s our pleasure, ma’am.” Gideon looked around the old barn. “We’re aiming to revive our music and bing the young people back to the traditions of this place.”
Brooks followed them out, feeling a lifting in his chest for the first time in over a week. The combination of tradition, music, and folks with long memories made him haul in a deep breath. There were still treasures in the world and moments to savor. An image of Caroline’s sweet smile flashed through his mind and he struggled to push it away. He would survive the summer if he concentrated on one thing at a time, and right now, the contra dance was that one thing.
The other problems in his life would just have to take a ticket and stand in line. One disaster at a time was his new theory.
"With all dear Emma's little faults, she is an excellent creature...where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred times."—Mrs. Weston
Chapter Fifteen
“I think we need to upload the pictures to a zip file.” Caroline stood over Lexi’s shoulder and pointed to an area on the screen. The mildly uncomfortable work position at the laptop on her old desk had now turned into a back-aching chore. It was never meant for two people cramped together, staring at a glowing screen.
“I didn’t understand a word you just said.” Lexi was laughing but there was a serious undertone to her words.
Caroline sighed. They’d been at it for hours. First there was finding the websites and signing up to be a vendor. Lexi didn’t have a credit card or bank account, so Caroline had put in one of hers. The forms had been irritatingly long, but they’d finally finished the sign-up process. Then they had taken pictures of all her art for two hours. Finally, the walk-through directions suggested they put the pictures up in a bundle, but she didn’t even know if her internet connection could handle that kind of file transfer. She wasn’t low-tech, but getting the pictures onto the site was proving more than Caroline could handle on an empty stomach.
“Let’s break for lunch. I’m sure it will make more sense after we have some food in us.”
“Excellent.” Lexi
stretched and yawned. “And when this takes off, my dad will have to see that I’m right.”
“How did it go when you told him?”
Lexi stood up and followed Caroline to the hallway. “I haven’t told him yet.”
She stopped. “Not yet?”
Lexi looked uncomfortable. “Well, I thought I might wait a short while. Since it’s just him and me, I don’t want to be fighting with him until I have to. I have all summer. And classes don’t start until September.”
Caroline nodded. “I suppose you’re right, but don’t put it off too long.” She led her down the long hallway to the front stairs. As they got closer to the kitchen, she could smell fresh baked cornbread.
“Bless Angie’s heart. I thought I was going to have to make myself a sandwich.” She smiled at Lexi, but the girl didn’t respond. Of course, she was used to grabbing lunch and making do.
“I’m spoiled and I know it,” Caroline said. “I like to walk into the kitchen and be served a hot meal, three times a day. I don’t know if anybody has it better than I do.”
“About half the population, probably.” Lexi grinned. “My dad likes his food hot and on the table at six every evening. I sort of wish I’d been born a man so someone would serve me dinner for the rest of my life.”
She laughed, realizing Lexi was right. “My mother doesn’t understand why I don’t want to get married, but I have everything I need and no one wants me to cook for them.”
Lexi paused on the landing of the stairs and shook her head. Her dark eyes were wide with surprise. “You’re not looking to get married?”
“Not really.” Caroline shrugged. “Like I said, I just don’t see the benefits right now. I haven’t even gotten my career off the ground.” Or gotten it back off the ground, since she’d abandoned the corporate ladder mid-step.
“That’s just so weird to hear a girl say that. I mean, everybody wants to get married.”
“Well, not me.” She tried to sound cheery but Lexi was reminding her of how very different they were. Sure, there were girls who had gone through college on the husband hunt, but most of her friends were focused on a career path. It just wasn’t about getting a man anymore. There were better ways to happiness.
Lexi followed her down the stairs to the kitchen. A pot of homemade chicken soup and dumplings sat on the stove. A pan of cornbread was cooling on a pad on the granite counter. She plopped into a chair and inhaled the tantalizing kitchen scents. “Is it like this all the time? I could so get used to this.”
“Not all the time.” Caroline smiled a little. If only Lexi had seen the Frankencake, she wouldn’t be so jealous of the sunny yellow kitchen with the industrial grade appliances. An image of the cake was followed immediately with a vision of Brooks. It came so quickly she didn’t have time to push it back. His sandy blond hair a little too long, brushed back from his forehead. Those deep dimples that appeared when he was trying not to smile. The way the stubble on his jaw looked like sand in the sunlight. The way he had to stoop down to hug her.
“Are you okay?” Lexi’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Sure.” She blindly reached for the buffet where the china was kept. Blinking furiously, she swallowed back the ache in her throat. It was silly to fight over Lexi’s scholarship. She made her own decisions, no matter how much they wanted to influence her. In the end, she was a grown woman making her own choices.
“I think my whole house could fit in this kitchen.”
Caroline turned, hand still on the cabinet knob. “Come on, maybe just your bedroom.”
Lexi shook her head. “No, we live in a studio at the back of the gas station. There’s a screen divider between my bed and where my dad sleeps. I decorated the back so it has all my art projects where I can see them, but it’s… probably just about the size of your kitchen.”
She turned back to the cabinet, feeling dread build inside. The kitchen was maybe forty feet by fifty feet. It was big, sure. But the size of someone’s house? The idea shook her to the core. Brooks’ words came back to her louder than ever. No, Caroline, she won’t be waking up and realizing that, because she’s not you.
She pushed away the memory and reached into the cabinet for the china and stopped short. In the antique hutch were stacks of white china plates with a light green ivy pattern. She drew one out, barely believing her eyes.
“Oh, those are real pretty.” Lexi pointed to the plate in her hand. “I saw those on special down at the Walmart Supercenter. They only came in a box of forty pieces so it was just too expensive for me and my dad.”
“At the Walmart?” Caroline couldn’t help repeating the words. Her voice had gone all whispery. She turned the plate over to see a Corelle marking on the back. She felt a pulse pounding in her head and she opened the next cabinet door. And the next. And the next. All the Ashley family china was gone, replaced by a Supercenter special. Her stomach clenched and she took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
“And the bowls and salad plates, too!” Lexi came to lean over her shoulder. “You could throw a party with all of this.”
Caroline nodded dumbly. A terrible idea had occurred to her and she could barely bring herself to open the slim drawers at the front of the buffet. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the brass handles and pulled. The drawers that held the silver were full but not of the familiar pieces she’d held at every meal. Stainless steel gleamed brightly back at her and she shut the drawer with a smothered cry.
“Did you slam your finger? I’ve done that, it hurts like a son of a gun.”
“I’m okay.” She turned and tried to smile. “Let me get you some chicken and dumplings. I need to go ask my mother something, if that’s okay.”
“Sure, not a problem!” Lexi settled at the table.
Caroline filled the brand new bowls with shaking hands, grabbed a spoon without looking too closely at the imposter silverware and dashed upstairs.
“Mama!” She knocked on the bedroom door and waited for a reply. She thought she could hear her mother talking, but the sound stopped and footsteps approached the door.
It swung open and her mother stood there, blinking at Caroline as if she’d been asleep. Her blond hair was flat on one side and her eyes were puffy. The room behind her was hurricane-style mess of clothes strewn across the floor. Drawers hung open, throw pillows were piled on the floor, and a chair was covered in what looked like half her closet. She smelled faintly of whiskey. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Mama, the china is gone! And the silver!” Her heart was pounding in her chest.
To her surprise, her mother just nodded. “Marshall said those plates were too old for that beautiful kitchen. He brought me that set with the ivy. It was real expensive but I think it’s important to upgrade once in a while.”
“Too old? They were antique Stubbs pearl ware from 1850. Of course they were old! And the silver? What happened to the silver?”
“I bent one of those spoons one day, just trying to get some peanut butter. Really, they are just not made well. Marshall brought the new set and it’s practically indestructible.” She waved a finger as if she needed spoons to withstand a stress test before use.
“Daddy loved that silver.” She rubbed her face and tried to swallow back the tears. He used to tell her how the Cincinnati company had to make the twisted stems just so or the balance would be off and no one wanted an unbalanced spoon. He usually let out a chuckle at that part because the idea of balanced silverware wasn’t something most people spent a lot of time on.
Her mother’s face went dark. “He loved it but I never understood why. It’s my family’s silver. Why did he love it when it wasn’t even his? And those old trunks and buckets and pots. They look horrible, all stained and catawampus.”
Caroline sucked in a breath. “You mean the firkin bails, the ones that look like an old wooden bucket?”
“Right. Most of them had cracks and nicks and dents. Marshall took them off my hands and brought some really pretty stacking tot
es. They’re see-through and fit right under the bed.”
Her mind went to the ancient camel top trunks in the attic, the hand-hooked rug in the entryway, the pots that had hung over a fire before the kitchen had been wired for electricity. Most were tucked away, out of sight. She hadn’t even realized they might have disappeared. Until now.
“I never knew you hated all of the antiques, Mama.” She’d heard the grumbling but never really paid any attention. Caroline sagged against the door frame.
“Oh, I didn’t care that much, but when Marshall reminded me that our house has a reputation to uphold, I had to agree. I can’t have junk like that hanging all over.”
She shook her head, not even knowing where to start. Her home had been raided of everything that connected it to her ancestors and in the place were left cheap, disposable reproductions. All in the name of upholding the family reputation. She took a long look at her mother for the first time in months.
Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was red. This wasn’t due to crying. This was a woman who had been drinking hard liquor and it wasn’t even noon. Her heart sunk to her shoes as she realized her mother had a problem with more than grief. Her father’s death had been sudden and terrible, but her mother had never faced it. She was drowning her grief in whiskey and hiding in her bedroom.
Caroline had never felt so alone in all her life. Her eyes filled with tears without her permission. All she wanted to was to call Brooks and tell him the whole story. But she couldn’t do that. They weren’t really speaking anymore.
And that hurt more than losing any of the rare family antiques that Marshall had carried off.
“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.”- Emma
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