LOVE in a Small Town

by Janet Eaves

  “I didn’t baby him exactly. I just sort of… Well, yeah, I guess that’s about right. You can’t count on Martin to be organized about stuff. It’s just not in him.”

  “You’re not telling me anything. I’m his sister, remember?” She rolled her eyes. “Between employees, I helped out once. One day. By five o’clock I was ready to kill him.”

  Betsy laughed, and it felt good. This was girl talk, something she didn’t get to indulge in much anymore.

  “Last time I was in there for a second, to drop off something, the place was a shambles. I don’t know how he manages to keep track of clients, or properties…”

  “Or phone numbers. He never could remember how to get into the contacts list on his computer.” An idea occurred to her. “So, does he have someone there now, holding down the fort?”

  “No. Just the answering machine saying he’s out. It’s better than having a new receptionist who doesn’t know how to deal with anything. Plus, by the time he’d get her halfway trained, she’d be out the door anyway. It’s bad.”

  “Hm. Maybe I should talk to him.”

  “Talk to Martin? You must be kidding. He never listens—Oh, you mean you might be interested in the job? Seriously?” Her eyes narrowed a little. “He’d be thrilled, I’m sure… If you’re planning to stay in town.”

  “I’m considering it.” Be cool. Don’t commit. “Right now I just have the house-sitting to do for Charles and Dorothy. I—uh—I thought it would be a good chance for LizBeth Ann to meet people. For them to see her.”

  “Bill and Marie?” Mike’s parents.

  “I haven’t been there yet. Haven’t called them.”

  “You need to.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “It’s—hard. I mean, I want to, and they’ve been so nice, sending things at birthdays and Christmas. And they’ve called. But talking to them in person is going to be hard.”

  “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Doesn’t mean you can’t do it. How difficult do you think this can be?”

  “I’ll call. Or just drop in.”

  “Either way is great. You know they’ll love to see you—both.” She winked at LizBeth Ann, who was paying attention to her foamy milk and not the boring adult conversation.

  Of course she needed to take LizBeth Ann to see her only grandparents. She was surprised they hadn’t shown up at the house already. Had Mike not reported to them about her being there? Had Charles and Dorothy not told them she would be house-sitting? Legend was a small place, and even non-McClains knew what everyone was doing. She couldn’t imagine her being in town was a secret of any sort.

  “You think I did okay with the foamy milk, honey?” Chloe asked as LizBeth Ann slid off the stool with her mother to catch her.

  “Yes. It was good. You can do that again next time if you want.”

  “I sure will. Glad to know I can fall back on this job if my paints dry up.” She gestured toward the showroom.

  “I thought some of those might be yours. The landscapes, right?”

  “Right. I probably ought to do other subjects, but I can’t get enough of the mountains. The way the sun and shade play out over a day’s time, and the different seasons. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of painting them. I’ve sold a few in Gatlinburg and Knoxville. Midnight insists on keeping some here too. It’s good to have them in Legend, after all. ‘Course the people who buy them aren’t usually locals, but that’s okay. Still nice to be semi-famous in the hometown, I guess.”

  Betsy felt like she was semi-famous in the hometown too, but for the wrong reasons. Maybe that could change.

  While she was feeling upbeat and encouraged by the conversation with Chloe, Betsy decided to do what she should have done days ago. Visit the almost-former in-laws. It was just a few blocks from The Emporium, a pleasant walk on a warm day, to the house on Mitchell Street. Of course she needed to prepare the little girl for the event.

  She looked down and squeezed LizBeth Ann’s hand. “Honey, we’re not just taking a walk. We’re going to visit some people. Remember me talking about Grandma and Grandpa?”

  Her little brow furrowed. “Um, yes.”

  “They live here, in Legend. Just a little farther and we’ll be at their house. Won’t it be nice to see them?”

  “I guess. Why do I want to see them?”

  “Because they’re your grandparents.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means they are the mommy and daddy to your daddy. Grandma and Grandpa McClain.”

  “I didn’t know they had that name too.”

  That had been more detail than Betsy had inclination to get into before now. Her own parents and grandparents were dead, but Mike’s parents, Bill and Marie, and his paternal grandparents, Ray and Wilma, were all alive. Four more McClains to introduce the little girl to, and that was barely getting started.

  “Yes, they are Grandma and Grandpa McClain.” She’d worry about the greats later on. “They will be so excited to see you!”

  “They will?” She looked uncertain and Betsy wondered if she was putting her through too many changes all at once. They’d gone from being a tiny family of just mother and daughter to adding a great-aunt and great-uncle, daddy, several cousins, and now grandparents, in just a few days.

  But in the city there were always new people to meet, so LizBeth Ann wasn’t terribly shy, just hesitant at first. Betsy had always been glad she wasn’t too friendly with strangers. That could be a frightening personality trait for a mother to deal with in the city. She had worried some about LizBeth Ann’s safety anyway. Which day care was good, but affordable? If the employees changed, how thoroughly were they screened? Sometimes she lay awake at night worrying that something terrible could happen to her daughter. She would never forgive herself. It would be her fault, because she’d taken her from the small town where she was known and loved by everyone, into the city where neither of them knew anyone. And where, it seemed, no one really cared.

  The red brick bungalow with brilliant white trim was as neat as ever. The front yard was immaculate, the lawn mowed on the diagonal, and as pretty as a golf green. Perfectly trimmed evergreen bushes framed the sparkling clean windows and the forest green door. There was no car in sight, but Betsy knew it would be carefully stored in the little red brick garage in the back, which was also surrounded by perfectly trimmed evergreen bushes. Betsy remembered how very hard it had been, trying to live up to Bill and Marie McClain. She had always fallen short, no matter what she did. If she ever failed to notice, Mike was sure to point it out to her.

  “That’s not the way my mom makes spaghetti. She stirs the noodles in with the sauce. This tastes weird.” She’d hated remarks like that, and who needed them, when spaghetti was one of the few things she could cook at all? Betsy felt her palms start to sweat, and wiped her free hand down the side of her jeans. She hoped LizBeth Ann wouldn’t notice her nervousness. She had to do this. Why in the world hadn’t Mike offered? He could have brought her here… Well, no, Betsy admitted to herself, she wouldn’t likely let him take their daughter somewhere on his own. It was way too soon for that.

  Betsy pushed the doorbell, inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, to calm herself. This is probably a bad idea. Maybe they’re not home anyway and we—

  The door opened fast and wide, and there stood Marie McClain looking down at them. Her red hair was pulled back into a severe bun as always, but she was smiling. And her eyes were suspiciously shiny. Was she…crying?

  “Oh! Oh, darling!” She reached toward LizBeth Ann but caught herself as the little girl took a step back. Marie clasped her hands tightly in front of her but leaned down to be closer to the youngster’s line of vision. “LizBeth Ann, how good to see you.” She looked at Betsy. “And how are you doing, dear?”

  “Fine, Marie. I wasn’t sure if you knew we were home. Thought we should stop in if you have time.”

  “Oh, of course I have time! Come on in.” She waved them into the living room. LizBeth Ann loo
ked longingly back toward the way they’d come, but dutifully went into the house, holding her mother’s hand.

  They sat on a pale yellow and rose chintz love seat in the immaculate living room. A vase of roses was on the side table. The roses were grown, Betsy knew, in Marie’s rose garden in the back yard. There were no trees in the yard. They would shade the roses unnecessarily, and cause unsightly leaf litter in the autumn. Betsy almost smiled remembering the details of her mother-in-law’s fussiness.

  “Would you like some sweet tea?”

  Of course they didn’t need anything. They’d just had drinks at The Emporium, but Betsy knew it would hurt Marie’s feelings if they turned down her famous sweet tea.

  “Tea would be great for me. Not for LizBeth Ann, though. Just ice water, okay?”

  “I have milk. LizBeth Ann can have that.” The little girl shook her head vigorously.

  “That’s okay, Marie. Water’s fine. Thank you.”

  When she’d left the room frowning, LizBeth Ann muttered, “I’m not thirsty. I had foamy milk already.” A few minutes later she brought their drinks—a glass of sweet tea and a glass of milk—on a darling little floral tray, with a plate of home-baked peanut butter cookies. Another of her specialties. Marie was a very talented woman.

  She folded her long legs and sat with perfect posture in a green wing chair. Its chintz upholstery was the exact shade of the leaves in the floral print of the love seat. Home décor. That was another of Marie’s talents. Betsy sighed and felt herself shrink in comparison to the tall, beautiful, amazing—and intimidating woman. She wished Midnight were here. Or Martin, or even Chloe. Backup of some sort. Help?

  “Betsy, dear, Bill and I heard you had come back to Legend. I assumed you would stop by, or call.”

  “Mike told you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Dorothy.”

  “No. Dorothy only said someone would be watching the house. She can be a secretive little thing.” She smiled at LizBeth Ann. “So, darling, how do you like our town?”

  “Um.” She finished chewing the bite of cookie and swallowed, using her best “company” manners. “Well, I think the town has good cookies, and a lot of McClains.”

  The women both chuckled, and LizBeth Ann smiled. “Mommy said you’re my grandpa.”

  “Um—”

  “I’m your grandma, darling. Your grandpa isn’t here right now, but he should be back soon. He will be so surprised to see you again! It’s been a long time.”

  Right, Marie. Thanks for pointing that out. As if I didn’t know. The woman always could say cutting things so slyly, maybe people didn’t always notice. But Betsy did. She knew Marie and Bill had never approved of her. Especially Marie. Betsy wasn’t good enough for her darling boy. It was no wonder Mike’s brother Alex never came back to Legend to live after college.

  “Mmm.” LizBeth Ann was oblivious to whether or not it had been a long time. She was enjoying the cookie.

  A long, excruciating hour and a half later, Betsy swept LizBeth Ann into her arms and carried the tired and cranky two year old the last block to the VW. She had finally convinced Bill that they didn’t need a ride for the short distance. It was more the principal than the actual ride—she was tired of being told what to do for the entire afternoon. She would have carried LizBeth Ann for ten miles if necessary, just to prove that Marie couldn’t determine her every move.

  And I was kicking myself for not seeing them sooner. How soon we forget.

  Mike was just getting into his truck to leave for the day when he saw the lime green Bug turn into the drive. He got out again, smiling and waving at LizBeth Ann. Betsy pulled to a stop and he realized LizBeth Ann was sound asleep in her car seat. Well, he had been waving at her, asleep or not. Not waving at her mom.

  Still, he gave her a little smile too. Work today had been awesome, and though he was tired, he was in a good mood. After all the necessary and time-intensive prep work, the room was really coming together. It might be his best effort yet. Maybe he should take pictures and start a portfolio. Greg always took pictures of the special jobs for the company portfolio. This job was Mike’s baby, so maybe he should start a photo collection of his own. At least he could do something well.

  He watched Betsy as she unbuckled LizBeth Ann’s car seat and pulled the sleeping child into her arms. What a beautiful woman and loving mother. She had sure grown up while she was gone. Too bad she’d done her growing up away from him. Too bad he’d been such a failure to her, and to their baby. Her thick curly hair got in her way and she had LizBeth Ann and her big leather purse to deal with. He reached out and pushed her hair back off her shoulder so she could see better. It was so soft and silky. He’d forgotten how soft. How it had felt to touch it when he kissed her, to wind his fingers in it when they made love. He’d forgotten so many things, mostly because he tried very hard to make himself forget. That was history, and best left in the past where it couldn’t hurt anybody anymore. At least, it couldn’t hurt as much.

  Mike unlocked the front door again and opened it.

  “Wait. I need to talk to you,” she said softly before going up the front stairs to the guest bedroom she was using.

  This can’t be good. She hasn’t wanted to talk to me once since she got to town. Suddenly the productive work day didn’t make Mike happy anymore. His sense of accomplishment was gone and he felt defeated, uncertain, and a little angry. What right did she have to mess up his happiness, when he had so little of it?

  “We visited your parents this afternoon.”

  Well then. That certainly explained Betsy’s wanting to talk to him. She and his mother had never been exactly close. Mom used to push Betsy’s buttons pretty accurately, he remembered.

  “Nice of you to go over there, Betsy.” He stretched his long legs in front of him and slid down a little in the white wicker chair. They were sitting on the front porch with the door open. That way, Betsy explained, she could hear LizBeth Ann if she called. She was always thinking of her daughter, and he wondered again how she got to be such a great mom.

  The sun was going down behind the patch of woods to the west, and a couple of rays poked through the trees to turn Betsy’s blonde hair into a halo. Sometimes she did look just like an angel. He’d never deserved her, and when she looked like that, all perfect and beautiful, he wondered at the fact that she’d married him at all. He shook his head in amazement and regret.

  “So, should I ask how the visit was?” Her face contorted slightly. “Yeah, probably not.”

  Betsy sighed. “Your mom and I—ugh. She was wonderful to LizBeth Ann, of course. Loves her to death. The feeling isn’t mutual yet, but I’m sure Marie will persevere. And…she showed her the doll house.”

  “Whoa. That’s not playing fair.”

  “I know. I’d forgotten how amazing it is.”

  “Well, it’s Mom. Nothing less would do.”

  The doll house was built from a kit by Marie when LizBeth Ann was born. They hadn’t known the baby’s gender prior to birth—Betsy had insisted on being surprised—which of course had inconvenienced Marie. She knew she wanted to build a doll house if the baby was a girl. So the day after Betsy and LizBeth Ann came home from the hospital, the dollhouse kit arrived via Fed Ex, and the building began. By the time the baby was six months old, the three-story Victorian house was built, painted, wallpapered, and completely furnished.

  A month later, Betsy packed up and drove out of Legend.

  Mike closed his eyes tightly for a moment, blocking that memory for the millionth time.

  He took a deep breath. “She means well.”

  Betsy sighed too, kicked off her flip-flops and pulled her legs up under her on the porch swing. “I know she does. She always has, I think. But man, she comes on so strong!”

  “Yeah. I guess some things never change.”

  “I guess.”

  Betsy didn’t look at him, but at one of the chains suspending the swing. She ran her hand up and down it. Mike knew she w
asn’t seeing the chain, wasn’t thinking about the chain. She was thinking hard on something else, and he sure hoped it wasn’t leaving. He’d gotten used to having LizBeth Ann here, where he could see her each day. He’d gotten used to watching her little face light up when she greeted him every morning, and used to their picnic lunches on the back lawn when he could be with her alone and just listen to her chatter.

  It had been hard enough when Betsy left him before, but that had mostly been about the two of them. To his shame, he hadn’t felt a closeness to LizBeth Ann back then. He’d been too young, self-absorbed, and stubborn. But now! Now it would be like losing a part of him if his daughter was taken away. How could he stop it?

  He glanced again at Betsy, saw that faraway look in her eyes, her pale brows forming a frown. He couldn’t force her to stay. That much he knew for sure. He had to make her want to stay. What could do that? He knew she wouldn’t do it for him. She was barely civil to him on a good day. He had to make it clear to her that Legend was the best place for LizBeth Ann to grow up. And it had to be Betsy’s decision.

  He sat up a little straighter. “Uh. Have you been to Lilly Hood’s shop since you got here?” Betsy turned toward him. Her eyes lost their faraway look and focused on his.

  “No. It’s still a baby clothing store, right?” She shifted a little and put her hands in her lap.

  “Well, she’s got a place set up for little girls. She calls it Little Ladies Tea Room, or something like that. Her little girl Lila June was the inspiration, and it’s really caught on.” He cleared his throat, trying to remember details. “Uh. Well, so there’s kid-sized tables and chairs, and on Saturdays they have a tea party for little girls. I’ve seen them going in with their moms, and the girls are all dressed up. It’s a big deal. I just thought, you know, LizBeth Ann might like that. Little girls like tea parties, right? And I think Lilly does things at their house—hers and Jim’s—for moms and little girls. Play dates or whatever.”

  Well, he’d done a horrible job of explaining, but he didn’t know that much about it. All hearsay. He’d never been in Lilly’s shop. He heard about the tea parties from a lady whose bathroom he’d gutted and redone a few months ago. She was setting up a tea party in the dining room one afternoon for her, her young daughter, and the daughter’s dolls. She said Lilly’s tea party thing was great. Her little girl chattered about it too when she heard her mom mention it. Women of all ages like to get in groups and talk, he knew. A tea party seemed harmless enough, and if Betsy went to it maybe she’d reconnect with some women she knew before, or meet one of the new ones who’d moved to town lately. Legend was finally growing some.