Mystic Park

by Regina Hart

  “So do I.” Quincy’s smile was wistful. Benita could see the love the university professor had for the town’s former mayor. Once again, the pinch in her gut felt like envy.

  Benita returned to her lunch, although she didn’t have much of an appetite left. She’d realized the similarities between her relationship with Vaughn, and Quincy and Ramona’s relationship. Ramona had wanted to leave Trinity Falls. Quincy left with her but now he regretted the decision. In contrast, Vaughn was immovable on the subject of leaving Trinity Falls because, like Quincy, Vaughn believed Trinity Falls was where he belonged. All Benita wanted was for Vaughn to give L.A. a real chance. But could she live with herself if like Quincy, Vaughn ultimately regretted it?

  CHAPTER 25

  Benita pulled into a front-row visitor parking space in the assisted living residence’s lot Wednesday afternoon. She stepped out of her Acura and hurried to the passenger side of the car to assist her great-aunt. But Ms. Helen already had climbed out of the passenger seat before Benita reached her.

  The retired chemistry professor stood staring at the building in front of them. “What is this place?”

  Benita turned her attention to the sprawling gray and white, wood and stone residence. The architecture combined modern living with Victorian character. A wraparound veranda welcomed visitors. There was whimsy in the stone turrets and wood trusses that crowned the building. A firm spring breeze ruffled the leaves covering the stately maple trees that dotted the well-manicured lawn. Benita had fallen in love with it as soon as she’d seen the brochures.

  “This is The Villages at Sequoia Alms.” Benita squinted against the sunlight as her gaze moved over the bay window on the second floor. Natural light must flood that room during the day.

  “It’s an old people’s home.” Ms. Helen’s words were stiff.

  “It’s an assisted living residence.” Benita searched her great-aunt’s profile. She felt the tension coming off her relative like smoke from an inferno. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “What are we doing here?” The elderly woman’s dark eyes were cold and distant as they held Benita’s gaze.

  “I thought we’d take a tour.” Benita sensed the first whiff of unease.

  “Why?”

  Benita chose her words carefully. “Aunt Helen, I’m not comfortable with you living on your own.”

  “Why not?” Some would label it stubbornness. Others would call it determination. Whatever quality helped her great-aunt earn a doctorate in the age of Jim Crow, Benita heard it in her voice.

  “You’re getting older.”

  “We’ve all been getting older since the day we were born. You’re getting older, too.”

  “You know what I mean.” A breeze ruffled Benita’s hair. It carried the scent of new flowers and fresh earth.

  “No, I don’t.” The same breeze teased tendrils of hair free of Ms. Helen’s chignon. “Why are you suddenly concerned?”

  “Actually, Aunt Helen, I’ve been worried for a while.” It was a relief to get that off her chest.

  “You’ve been here since March twenty-first. It’s now May twentieth. In the past two months, have I fallen?”

  “No.” Why would she ask me that?

  “Have I set the house on fire?”

  “No.” Benita had a sense of the direction this conversation was taking.

  “Have I had any car accidents or given away all of my money to questionable charities?”

  “You know you haven’t.”

  “And so do you.” Ms. Helen adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse. “So your only cause for concern is my age—a number. Well, darling, that’s not good enough to convince me to indulge you.”

  “Let’s at least take a tour of the residence.” Benita waved an arm toward the veranda. “You haven’t even seen it.”

  Ms. Helen jabbed a finger toward the structure. “I’m not stepping one foot into that place.”

  “But we’ve driven all this way.” Benita wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. She’d researched a dozen nearby assisted living facilities, interviewed their directors, reviewed their literature and Web sites. The least her great-aunt could do was tour one facility.

  “That’s the other thing.” Ms. Helen’s voice shook with outrage. “This old age home isn’t even in Trinity Falls. It’s in Sequoia.”

  “It’s not far from Trinity Falls.” Why wouldn’t her great-aunt at least give the place a chance? “You’ll make new friends here who are your own age.”

  “I like the friends—young and old—that I have in Trinity Falls.” Ms. Helen crossed her arms over her small chest. “You just don’t get it, do you, Benny? If you’d stop looking at the number of years I’ve been on this earth, you’d have to admit that I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Aunt Helen—”

  “I’m not finished.” Her tone was stern. “With the friends I have, I don’t need to move into an old age home. The difference between living on my own in Trinity Falls and living in this so-called assisted living facility is that, the people who check on me at my home make the time to do so because they love me. Not because I’m paying them to look in on me as they can.”

  She hadn’t meant to upset her great-aunt. How could she explain that she’d had the best of intentions? “Aunt Helen, I know your friends stop by to check on you and help around your house. But your house is still a lot to take care of on your own.”

  “It’s my house.” Ms. Helen raised her right hand, palm out. “Benny, as long as you’re not going to listen to me, I’m going to stop talking. You can tour the old age home if you’d like. Unlock the car and I’ll wait for you here.”

  Benita looked from the large assisted living facility to her tiny great-aunt’s rigid back as Ms. Helen waited beside the passenger door. She considered the parade of people whose habit it was to stop by her great-aunt’s house every day, starting with Ean and Megan, who checked in at six o’clock in the morning at the end of their jog. Alonzo arrived at noon, Doreen at four o’clock, and Darius after work around six in the evening. There were others, like Vaughn, Audra, and Jackson, whose visits were more random. But still, they stopped by every day.

  Her great-aunt had a point. These were her friends who loved her enough to want to check on her welfare. Then they’d stay to help with repairs like changing a lightbulb, replacing a wooden step, clearing her gutters, or mowing her law. There wasn’t a need for her great-aunt to uproot her life. No one could care for her more or better. It was time for Benita to eat crow.

  She pressed a button on her keychain to deactivate her alarm and unlock her car. She opened the door for her great-aunt. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  Ms. Helen looked from the door to Benita. “No more talking about old age homes?”

  “I promise. Besides, the way your friends hold court for you, I shouldn’t mess with a good thing.”

  Ms. Helen chuckled as she settled onto her seat. “You should have such good friends when you’re my age.”

  Benita froze as her thoughts sped forward. She’d never have the kinds of friendships Ms. Helen had even if she lived the rest of her life in L.A. All of her really good friends were in Trinity Falls. Without Vaughn, Benita’s future in the Golden State looked very bleak.

  “How would you feel about being neighbors?”

  Ms. Helen frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m thinking of making an offer on Doreen’s house.”

  “You’re moving back to Trinity Falls?” Ms. Helen’s jaw dropped.

  “I might be.” Benita closed her great-aunt’s passenger door, then circled the hood to get behind the car’s steering wheel.

  It was time she stopped fighting it. Everyone was right. Trinity Falls was home. It was time to claim it—and Vaughn.

  Ramona let herself into Foster Gooden’s office suite. The university was as silent and empty as a tomb this late on a Thursday afternoon.

  His administrative assistant looked up from her computer. A sm
ile brightened her severe features. “Mayor—I mean Ms. McCloud. It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Treena. Thank you.” She glanced toward Foster’s open door, then back to the other woman. “I have a three o’clock appointment with Foster.”

  “Oh, yes.” Treena waved a hand toward the doorway. “Please, go in.”

  Ramona gave Treena a parting smile before knocking on the open office door.

  Foster rose and circled his desk. His arms were open as he approached her. “Ramona. Welcome back.”

  Ramona crossed into the office. “It’s good to be back.”

  Foster hugged her, patting her back like a favorite uncle before he stepped back and released her. He gestured toward a royal blue cushioned chair at the small circular table in the front corner of his office. “Come in and have a seat. How are you?”

  “I’m well, thank you. How’s everything with you?” Ramona sat, crossing her legs and folding her hands on the table.

  “I can’t complain.” Foster reclined on the chair opposite her.

  Ramona arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound good. What’s going on?”

  Foster waved a hand. “Things are tough in academia right now. Higher ed enrollment is down all over Ohio. Budgets have been cut to the bone.”

  They chatted for a while about higher education in Ohio and Trinity Falls University specifically. As they talked, Ramona studied Foster’s office. It was bright. In addition to the overhead lights, he had a lamp beside his desk and another stood on its surface. The walls were painted white. His desk, conversation table, and bookcase were made of honey-toned wood, and his file cabinets were made of cream metal. The table where they sat was stacked with copies of The Chronicle of Higher Education. Several of the pages were flagged with sticky notes.

  Foster waved a hand dismissively. “But that’s more than you ever wanted to know about TFU’s enrollment.”

  Actually, it was. Ramona straightened on her chair. “Quincy told me that he’d come to speak with you a couple of weeks ago, but he didn’t tell me how your conversation ended. I’m dying of curiosity. Could you tell me?”

  Ramona forced a winning smile past the trepidation powering her pulse. This is where Foster was supposed to say that he hadn’t seen Quincy. Ethel Knight had been wrong; it wasn’t Quincy she’d seen leaving Foster’s office nine days ago. In fact, he was hurt that Quincy hadn’t stopped by to say hello. Ramona held her breath, waiting for Foster’s response.

  The older man’s beetled eyebrows knitted. “I don’t think that I should tell you, Ramona. The news really should come from Quincy.”

  Ramona froze. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Ethel had been right. She’d been afraid of that, which was the reason Ramona hadn’t confronted Quincy sooner. She hadn’t wanted to face the myriad of reasons her boyfriend would have met with his former boss without telling her.

  She’d suspected Foster would be too circumspect to give up the information easily. And to think Quincy hadn’t told her that he’d met with TFU’s vice president for academic affairs or what the meeting had been about. Her lover, who was notorious for not being able to keep secrets, was keeping secrets from her. Unbelievable. If Ethel hadn’t mentioned spotting Quincy coming out of Foster’s office, Ramona would still be in the dark. She’d waited almost two weeks for her absentminded professor to mention a meeting with his former boss. He’d never said a word. Now here she was, checking up on him like some modern-day Mata Hari.

  “Could you at least tell me if it’s good news?” Ramona leaned forward, clasping her hands together as though she was hoping really, really hard. But for what was she hoping?

  “Oh, it’s good news indeed.” Foster grinned. “Very good news. But I don’t want to ruin the surprise. Besides, he asked me not to mention it to you.”

  So Quincy had plotted to keep her in the dark deliberately. Unbelievable.

  Ramona gritted her teeth into another winning smile. “You won’t ruin the surprise if I guess. You’re going to allow Q to return to TFU as a tenured professor, aren’t you?”

  “You’ve guessed correctly.” Foster laughed. “I’m thrilled that Quincy will be returning to TFU. He’s one of our best professors. His leaving was a great loss to the university and to our students.”

  And Quincy’s lying to her also was a great loss. Ramona found the strength to smile through the pain. “That’s wonderful news, Foster. You’ve made Quincy—both of us—very happy.”

  Foster beamed. “You’ve both made me very happy, too. Do you know when Quincy will make his decision?”

  Quincy hadn’t made his final decision yet? Was it his intent to discuss this opportunity with her? If so, what was he waiting for? Divine intervention?

  Ramona coughed, trying to dislodge the lump of anger growing in her throat. “Oh, don’t worry, Foster. We’re going to discuss Q’s return to TFU at length tonight.”

  Foster rubbed his hands together. “Then I’ll look forward to receiving his answer bright and early Monday morning.”

  Ramona’s smile was growing stiff. She made a show of looking at her watch, although she couldn’t read the time through the red wash of anger floating before her eyes. “It’s been wonderful catching up with you, but I’d better go. I’m sure you have a ton of work to get through and I have some stuff, too.”

  Foster rose. “I look forward to hearing from you and Quincy Monday.”

  “Absolutely.” She stood from the table, then shook Foster’s hand. “Take care, Foster. Thanks again for your time.”

  She was looking forward to hearing from Quincy tonight. He had a lot of explaining to do.

  CHAPTER 26

  Doreen secured the café’s kitchen Thursday afternoon, then adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. After three years, she still couldn’t determine which was the busiest day of the week—Friday or Saturday. She turned, intending to search for Megan to wish her friend and boss a good evening. She hesitated when she noticed Nessa walking toward her.

  “I’m sorry, Nessa, the café’s closed.” Doreen adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder.

  “I’m not here for a meal, Doreen.” The town council president dug into her oversized navy leather purse. She pulled out a familiar ivory linen envelope. “What’s this about?”

  Doreen recognized the stationery at a glance. “It’s an invitation to my wedding.”

  “I know that.” Nessa looked from the envelope to Doreen. “Why did you send this to me?”

  Doreen checked the bronze Movado wristwatch Ean had bought for her several Christmases ago. It was just after three o’clock. In the distance, she heard the faint sounds of conversation and laughter from the bookstore customers. They were mostly retirees and TFU students at this time of the day.

  “I’m getting married June twentieth, Nessa. You’re welcome to attend both the wedding and reception if you’d like—or not.” She walked past Nessa, intending to keep going. But Nessa’s next words stopped her.

  “Are you that desperate for gifts that you’d invite your enemies to your wedding?”

  Doreen stiffened. She faced Nessa. “I hadn’t realized we were enemies.”

  “Maybe ‘enemy’ is too strong of a term.” Nessa put the envelope back into her purse. “But we aren’t friends. So why did you invite me to your wedding?”

  “Why not?”

  “Is it really that easy for you?” Nessa’s dark eyes reflected her puzzlement and frustration.

  “Why are you making it so hard?” Doreen searched Nessa’s thin brown features. “You make everything hard. Vaughn wanted to perform his musical in the community center. You rejected his request without discussing it with members of the council or me.”

  “According to our bylaws, I’m not required to discuss decisions on nonessential matters with you.”

  “That’s just one example.” Doreen gripped her purse strap, using it to hold on to her temper. “Why are you trying to alienate me on even the smallest of matters? Wouldn’t it
be easier for us to get along?”

  Nessa smirked. “Who told you that being mayor, even of a small town like ours, was supposed to be easy?”

  And with that single question, Nessa Linden in all her spiteful glory was back.

  “I know we’re not friends and you never intend us to become closer. But I sent you an invitation to my wedding anyway because one of us should at least try to make an effort.”

  “So you think you’re a better person than me?” Nessa’s eyebrows stretched up her forehead.

  “Don’t twist my words.” Doreen gestured toward Nessa’s oversized navy purse, which carried the wedding invitation. “Come or don’t come. It’s up to you. I don’t have an ulterior motive for inviting you.”

  Once again Doreen turned to walk away and once again Nessa’s words stopped her.

  “You’re always so charming and likable.” Nessa didn’t make that sound like a compliment. “The voice of reason for the winning side of a community issue.”

  “Is that the way you see me?” Doreen gave Nessa a wide-eyed stare.

  “Yes, and so do a lot of other people.” Nessa’s response was vicious.

  “Thanks.” Doreen smiled and walked away.

  There wasn’t anything she could do about Nessa’s or anyone else’s perception of her. She could only be true to herself—which meant admitting at least to herself that she was enjoying Nessa’s confusion over her wedding invitation.

  Doreen was still smiling miles later as she drove home from Ms. Helen’s house Thursday afternoon. Although Benita was staying with the elderly woman, Doreen continued to stop by Ms. Helen’s home every day around four P.M. She enjoyed the former university professor’s company. And, as a bonus, today Benita had made a bid on Doreen’s former house. If all went well, soon Doreen wouldn’t have to worry about the house’s maintenance. Great news, indeed.

  Singing along with the radio, Doreen pulled her Honda Civic into the garage of the home she now shared with Alonzo. She collected her purse before climbing from the car and walking toward the mailbox. That’s when she noticed Leonard waiting for her at the bottom of the driveway.