Mystic Park

by Regina Hart

  “I’m going to need help coordinating the play.” Vaughn Brooks followed Darius to one of the few available tables in Books & Bakery’s café Tuesday.

  It was lunchtime and the place was packed. Employees from local businesses, and students, staff, and faculty from Trinity Falls University were looking to console their sorrows over the start of a new week with Doreen’s famous Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownies.

  “I had a feeling you might.” Darius spoke over his shoulder as he closed in on the table for two. “A production that ambitious is more than a one-man show.”

  “I gave it my best shot.” Vaughn lowered himself onto a chair at the small, white, rectangular table. He was glad Darius had snagged the spot before anyone else had claimed it. “There’s a lot to do: scheduling, auditions, costumes, props.”

  “Not to mention promoting the performance and managing the ticket orders.” Darius bit into his turkey-and-cheddar-on-wheat sandwich.

  “I was thinking of asking Peyton again. She turned me down the first time.” Vaughn scooped his spoon through his chicken-and-wild-rice soup.

  “Why?” Darius paused with his iced tea halfway to his mouth.

  “She said she didn’t have experience with theater performances. But she did a great job with the fund-raising event for the Guiding Light Community Center.”

  Vaughn studied Darius for his reaction to his request. This past fall, The Trinity Falls Monitor’s managing editor had thought Vaughn and Peyton were dating. In truth, Vaughn was one of several Trinity Falls residents who were matchmaking Darius and Trinity Falls University’s newest faculty member. Now that Darius and Peyton were the latest happy couple in their little town, did the newspaper man harbor any lingering resentments toward him?

  Darius sipped his drink. “You’re right. Peyton did a great job on the charity dance. The entire fund-raising committee worked really hard and raised a lot of money for the center.”

  Vaughn appreciated Darius’s generous words since he was one of the members of the fund-raising committee. “Do you think I could convince her to help with the play?”

  “Under different circumstances, probably. But as you know, TFU hasn’t replaced Ken Hartford yet.” Darius mentioned the recently retired head of the Department of History. “That means all of the history professors are carrying extra courses and advising additional students. Her plate’s pretty full right now.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” Vaughn looked down at his bowl of soup and his half chicken-and-pepper-jack-cheese-on-wheat sandwich. He wanted to produce this musical. But to do it well, he needed help; someone who was meticulous, well organized, who could multitask and manage difficult people. Someone like Peyton, but with an edge.

  “I know someone who could help you.” Darius’s words were like lifelines thrown to a drowning man.

  “Who?” Hope sprang anew.

  “Benita Hawkins.”

  Time slowed to a crawl. Vaughn’s blood roared in his ears. His pulse pounded in his throat. In their past, the idea of working with Benita had filled him with excitement. Now there was dread mixed with enthusiasm. He’d thought he’d see her again last Friday. Ms. Helen and Benita had been on TFU’s campus that morning. But Ms. Helen had stopped by his office alone. Obviously, Benita was avoiding him. Even if he could see himself working with her, would she want anything to do with him?

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea.” Vaughn made himself swallow more soup.

  “Why not? Benita has experience managing performers and performances. She’s meticulous, organized, and can handle challenging personalities. You’ve seen her in action.”

  Vaughn looked away. “I know. We’ve worked together before.”

  “And the two of you make a good team. Ask her to help with your play.” Darius finished his sandwich and started on his soup.

  “I don’t think she’d agree.” Vaughn sensed Darius’s dark eyes boring into his forehead as though the journalist was trying to read his mind.

  “Because you’re no longer hooking up with her?”

  The stinging burn of a flush traveled under Vaughn’s skin. He shook his head in disgust. “How many other people know?”

  “This is Trinity Falls. It’s easier to count who doesn’t know.”

  Vaughn looked around the Books & Bakery café. He and Benita had grown up in this town, alongside a lot of friends and neighbors who were still here. Their past was well known. He hadn’t realized their present had been equally well observed.

  “We’ve broken up for good this time.” Vaughn returned to his soup.

  “Sorry to hear that.” Darius didn’t sound as though he believed Vaughn.

  “So am I.”

  He wasn’t going to explain to his childhood friend his reasons for breaking up with Benita. He could trust Darius to keep his confidence. He just wasn’t comfortable telling the other man that he was tired of being Benita’s sexual toy; he wanted more.

  Darius finished off his soup. “You made a great team in high school.”

  “This isn’t high school.” Volunteering on high school plays and musicals is what sparked their relationship. “How anxious would you be to work with an ex-girlfriend?”

  “I’d hate it. But we aren’t talking about me. Producing this musical has been your dream.”

  “I’ll find someone else to help me.”

  “Our usual go-to people are tapped out. Peyton’s carrying an extra course load. Doreen’s planning her wedding and has her mayoral duties. Megan has extra work with the café. Ramona’s in Philadelphia.”

  A pulse beat in Vaughn’s temple as Darius counted off all the people who couldn’t help him. “What about you?”

  Darius gave Vaughn a dubious look. “I’m not your usual go-to person. Jackson’s back at the paper and still remodeling the cabins, and Ean’s useless.”

  Darius had a point. Still . . . “Benita and I can’t work together, not so soon after breaking up.”

  “It’ll be awkward at first. But by opening night, you’ll either be over her or engaged.”

  Vaughn doubted he’d ever get over Benita Hawkins. Working with her on his musical wasn’t a matter of a few awkward moments. It was about losing his heart again and again every minute he was with her. Was his dream worth that kind of torture?

  CHAPTER 6

  The knock on his open door at the end of Tuesday asked for Vaughn’s attention. He lifted his head and found Dr. Olivia Stark framed in his threshold. He stood.

  The biology professor crossed hesitantly into his office. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No, come in.” Vaughn gestured toward his laptop. “I’m just wrapping up for the day.”

  Olivia was neat and professional in her dark blue coatdress. The professor’s appearance was the opposite of Benita in almost every way. She was tall and lithe. Benita was petite with slender curves. Olivia’s brown hair was a sleek, bone-straight bob. Benita’s hair was a thick chestnut mass that fell in unruly waves to her shoulders. Olivia’s voice was as clear as a church bell. Benita’s smoky tones shared naughty secrets.

  “How was your day?” Olivia drifted onto one of the blue guest chairs in front of his desk.

  Vaughn cut off thoughts of Benita and sat. “My classes went well. Thanks. How were yours?”

  They’d spent hours together this past winter working on the community center’s fund-raising committee. He’d thought their shared experiences had gotten them past the nice-weather-we’re-having conversations. What had caused them to suddenly regress?

  “They were fun.” Olivia’s face lit up with her smile.

  “That’s great.” He’d never considered that biology classes could be fun.

  “I was wondering . . .” Olivia paused. Her gaze slid away.

  “What is it?” Vaughn grew uneasy. What was on her mind?

  Olivia crossed her long legs and folded her hands on her lap. “I enjoyed working with you on the fund-raising committee. It was work. But with you, it was fun work. Do you kn
ow what I mean?”

  Why is she so nervous? Vaughn offered her what he hoped was a calming smile. “I’m glad one of us knew what we were supposed to do. If it wasn’t for you, we never would’ve been able to pull it off.”

  “Maybe we could have lunch sometime. Together.” Her brown eyes wavered. “The two of us.”

  She wasn’t asking him as a friend. Her deepening blush and white-knuckled grip told him that. Vaughn shifted on his chair. No one had ever asked him out before. He searched for gentle words to explain he wasn’t interested in a relationship—then his mind screeched to a halt.

  Why not?

  He didn’t have to consider Benita. They’d broken up and he didn’t harbor any hope of a reconciliation. The realization once again struck him like a blade through his chest. He’d loved her so hard for so long. When would this heartache end? Possibly never.

  Vaughn breathed through the pain. “I’d like that.”

  Clouds cleared from Olivia’s heart-shaped face. She gave him a smile brilliant with relief, excitement, and joy. It was humbling.

  “Are you free Thursday?” Olivia rose. “I don’t have any afternoon classes.”

  Vaughn stood as well. “Thursday works for me.” Why do I feel like a cheater?

  “Maybe we can go someplace off campus. My treat.”

  “You don’t have to pay.”

  “I’ll pay because I asked you. You can pay next time, if you ask me.” With that, she turned and disappeared through his door.

  Benita called him old fashioned. Some habits—standing when a woman entered a room, holding the door, and paying for your date—died hard.

  Vaughn lowered himself onto his chair and stared at his computer. But he was too distracted to concentrate. The e-mail on his monitor was a blur. Superimposed on the unfocused words were Benita’s wide hazel gaze and full, parted lips. Dammit! Vaughn scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wasn’t cheating on her. They’d broken up. He was free to see other people now.

  And so is she.

  Dammit!

  Benita caught a movement in her peripheral vision Wednesday morning. Ms. Helen was on the move. The modest heels of her cream pumps were silent as they carried her across her living room’s thick emerald carpet. Her great-aunt’s butter yellow skirt suit skimmed her thin figure. Its hem ended just past her knees. Her matching hat served as a decoration rather than a purpose.

  Benita tuned back to her cellular phone and her client’s latest complaints against her recording company. “Electra, let me get started on the items you’ve already given me. Once the label has shown good faith in resolving those, we’ll give them the rest.”

  But Electra Day, her chart-topping, pop-singing-sensation client, continued to list her label’s latest sins and transgressions. Benita listened, growing increasingly impatient. Her bronze Movado wristwatch showed it wasn’t quite nine o’clock in the morning in Trinity Falls. Benita clenched her teeth. From Los Angeles, Electra had called to enumerate her grievances well before six A.M. But Electra wasn’t an early riser. This meant the singer hadn’t been to bed yet. She was tired and not making much sense. Later, she might not even remember this call.

  Benita only half listened to her client. She was more interested in the belongings her great-aunt was sorting. Ms. Helen dropped some items into her purse. Others, she packed into a tote bag.

  What is she up to?

  Benita marked the time again. Enough was enough. Electra had two minutes to wrap up her diatribe before Benita cut off the sleepy young woman. She wanted to serve her client’s interests, but she was anxious to learn where her great-aunt was going.

  Time’s up.

  “Electra, I’ve got to go. Get some sleep. I’ll e-mail you once I’ve heard back from Silas. Bye.” Benita closed her cell phone and turned to her great-aunt. “You look beautiful. Where are you going?”

  “To Guiding Light.” Ms. Helen hoisted her tote bag and purse onto her shoulder.

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. You smell like you just ran five miles.” Ms. Helen gave her a pained look, taking in her running shoes, pants, and shirt.

  Benita wasn’t offended. She had just run five miles, from her great-aunt’s house, through nearby Freedom Park, and back. She was growing chilled as her body cooled in her sopping wet clothes.

  “It’ll take me fifteen minutes to shower and dress.”

  “Are you going to the center?” Ms. Helen frowned in confusion.

  “No, but it wouldn’t be any trouble for me to drive you there.”

  “But it would be inconvenient for me to wait for you to get cleaned up. You’ll make me late for my appointment.”

  “Call whoever you’re meeting to let them know you’re going to be late.”

  “I’m not going to do that.” Ms. Helen looked scandalized. “Why do you want to drive me to the community center anyway?”

  Benita wrapped her arms around her waist. She was starting to shiver from the chill. “It’s not safe for you to drive.”

  Ms. Helen’s eyebrows leaped in surprise. “Why not?”

  “Aunt Helen, you’re older now. Your reflexes aren’t as good as they used to be. It’s safer for me to drive you, not just for you but for other drivers on the road.”

  Ms. Helen gave her a blank look. “So you’re saying you should drive me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How would I get home?”

  “I’ll pick you up.” Benita’s enthusiasm for her plan was growing. “Just call me whenever you’re ready to leave. I don’t have any appointments today. I’m at your disposal.”

  “Really?” Ms. Helen nodded. “So I ²should wait while you clean up and get dressed now. Then I should wait again—like a sack of potatoes—for you to come and collect me.”

  It was faint, but Benita didn’t miss the note of irritation in her great-aunt’s voice. “I don’t mean to offend you, Aunt Helen. I’m concerned for your safety.”

  “And the other drivers on the road.” Ms. Helen crossed her arms. “Benita, when you’re not here, do you think I sit in the house all day, wallowing in my dotage?”

  “No, I—”

  “That was a rhetorical question.” The older lady cocked her head. “I’ve achieved an age in which I can go wherever I want to go, whenever I want to go. And I don’t need you to take me there.” Ms. Helen spun on her modest heels and strode to the door.

  “Aunt Helen—”

  “I won’t be home for lunch, Benny.” Her great-aunt called over her shoulder. “So don’t wait for me.”

  Chilled on the inside and outside, Benita watched Ms. Helen walk out the front door.

  How can I convince the stubborn woman that I’m not trying to cramp her lifestyle? I’m trying to keep her safe.

  It would be a lot easier if her great-aunt weren’t always flitting around. Benita mounted the staircase on her way to take a shower and clean up.

  She’d supposedly retired fifteen years ago. But Aunt Helen has more meetings, appointments, and working lunches than most top-level recording company executives I know.

  At loose ends about three hours later, Benita wandered into Books & Bakery in search of great company and a good lunch. It was barely noon on a Wednesday, yet the café was packed. Impressive.

  She made her way to the counter. The line was long but moved briskly. Within minutes, hers was the next order up.

  “Benita, it’s nice to see you.” Doreen’s brown eyes twinkled with welcome. She looked happy but tired. “What can I get for you?”

  Benita checked the soup of the day. “I’d love some chili.”

  Doreen reviewed the details of Benita’s order: cup or bowl, apple or fruit cup, drink? She handed Benita her change, then assured her she’d hear her name when her meal was ready.

  Without an available table in sight, Benita chose a bar stool at the counter. She hung her tote bag on the back of her seat and settled in to people watch. An older man and an older woman
Benita didn’t recognize darted in and out of the kitchen, taking turns presenting lunch orders to customers as their names were called. Benita received her bowl of chili, apple, and lemonade minutes later.

  “Hi, Benita.” The cheerful greeting from Megan came just after Benita’s first spoonful of chili.

  “Whatever you’re paying Doreen for this masterpiece isn’t enough.” Her taste buds were doing the Macarena.

  “I know.” Megan leaned her right hip against the counter. “But I’m hoping my taking her son off her hands makes up for the shortfall.”

  Benita paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Is there another wedding on the horizon?”

  Megan shook her head. “We’re taking things slowly.”

  They chatted for a while about mutual acquaintances, changes in the town, and books they’d loved and would recommend. Benita had forgotten how much she enjoyed talking with neighbors about the everyday things: friends, family, and well-loved books. It was so much easier than posturing with friendly rivals, trying to one-up each other with who you knew, where you’ve been seen, and how much you’ve earned. The late-night socializing and catty backstabbing took their toll physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

  “Another lunchtime stampede in the books.” Doreen circled the counter to take the bar stool beside Benita. The café crowd settled down as diners dug into their fresh and healthy meals.

  “Waiting in line, I felt like I was watching a standing ovation for your food.” Benita spooned up more chili.

  Doreen’s eyes widened with surprise. “Well, thank you for the compliment.”

  “How are you handling being mayor and managing the café?” Benita kept her tone light to mask her concern for her friend.

  Doreen looked at least ten years younger than the age Benita believed her to be. Her friend’s warm chocolate features were smooth and flawless with the barest hint of makeup. But she seemed so tired. There were clouds in her brown eyes, and tension bracketed her bowed lips.