Iced Tea for Two

by Donna McLean

  “Yes, sir, I try to be. Thank you, sir,” she stammered. This guy really was a character and a half, she thought!

  The old man tossed his head back and laughed, a rasping sound like crows screeching.

  Hannah quickly placed a chair next to the bed so Ms. MacArdan could sit down. Tilda grasped one of the elderly man’s withered hands and said hello to her old friend. McGrady held onto her hand tightly while they talked and smiled and laughed, remembering the good old days in Sparrow Falls. The laughter died down after a while, and the old man grew serious, even sad.

  “Oh, Tilda, how I miss the old days. All my friends and kinfolk. All gone now. Or soon will be, when I’m through. The last of my line, you know.”

  Addie said without thinking, “I thought you had a daughter and some grandkids?”

  McGrady’s little head swiveled on its withered neck. He fastened his beady eyes on her, and his mouth was tense. “You thought that, huh? And just where did you get an idea like that one?”

  Addie looked at Tilda, startled.

  Tilda spoke up hurriedly. “Now, Lach McGrady, you know good and well that’s been the rumor for years! Near about as far back as I can remember! And just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean everybody else is going to stop talking about it. That’s the way folks are in a small town. Some of us remember Sarah very well. Such a purty girl, with big dark eyes and black curly hair. And so sweet and kind, too. You can’t just pretend she never existed, no sir, not here in Sparrow Falls where everybody knows everybody else!”

  In a sudden burst of energy that surprised his company, Lach McGrady sat straight up in bed, slapped his knee and laughed out loud. It was a long, echoing laugh. “Talk about it! They had best be talking about it! That’s just what I want folks to do. Don’t forget about the McGradys. Don’t forget that there may be another McGrady walking through that there door any day now! That’s what I want folks to do. Keep talking about it, and don’t let the old stories fade away! Always has been a McGrady in Sparrow Falls, and always will, that’s what I say!”

  * * *

  The women discussed the odd turn of conversation all the way back to Tilda’s house.

  “I thought that old man was going to jerk a knot in you for sure, Addie!”

  They laughed.

  “Kind of scared me for a minute, there, too, Tilda. I don’t know why I opened my mouth and said what I did. It just slipped out.”

  “I’m glad it slipped out! First time I’ve ever heard Lach McGrady mention his family at all. After all these years!”

  Addie slowed the car and turned the steering wheel to pull onto Honeysuckle Lane. “Guess he’s been doing some serious thinking, now that his life is so close to the end. Probably filled with regret.”

  “Hmmmm, maybe . . . .” Tilda murmured pensively.

  Addie started to pull into the driveway of the pretty Victorian cottage, but suddenly slammed on the brakes with a dismayed gasp.

  Pearce Allen Simms stood on the front porch, watching the car with a wistful look on his handsome face.

  The strawberry blond scowled. She turned to face the woman sitting next to her. “Tilda MacArdan!” she said, as though scolding a child.

  “Now, Addie, I did tell you that I was going to invite Pearce Allen over for supper one night—”

  “One night, Tilda, not tonight!” Addie said. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, making her knuckles turn white.

  Ms. Tilda glanced down at the floorboard, shamefaced. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe seeing each other like this, so soon after the breakup, was going to make things worse!

  “I am sorry, Addie. Really, I am! I thought, maybe, if you saw each other here, like it used to be when you first met and Pearce Allen would come to visit . . . .” She faltered.

  The young woman grimaced silently. She glanced at the spry little lady sitting in the other seat, and noticed how distressed she looked.

  “Well, okay, don’t worry about it. I have other plans tonight, anyway.”

  Ms. MacArdan’s face fell even further. Was she inadvertently pushing Addie straight into the arms of another man, the wrong man? That’s what I get for meddling, Tilda thought to herself.

  She opened the car door and stepped out.

  Pearce Allen’s face lit up. He waved at them from the porch and started down the steps.

  Addie put the car in reverse and floored it, backing far enough into the street to make her getaway, but Pearce Allen was faster than she realized.

  He jumped in front of the car before she could take off!

  Tilda watched the scene with her mouth hanging open in surprise.

  “Addie, wait!” the young man called, desperately.

  The young woman put the car into forward but kept her foot on the brake. She revved the engine impatiently.

  “Well? What is it?”

  Pearce Allen’s hands rested on the hood just above the passenger side headlight. He leaned forward. “Can’t you at least say hello?” he pleaded. “I haven’t heard from you in ages!”

  Addie revved the car engine. Her emerald green eyes flashed. “I have an appointment. Please move. Now!”

  Suddenly the young man’s anger matched that of the pretty redhead. “You mean you have a date!” he yelled. “A date with that Dane Donovan!”

  Addie screamed, “Pearce Allen Simms!” and revved the engine again, a warning this time. The young man stepped aside. She shoved the gas pedal and the car surged forward. Pearce Allen slammed it with his fist as she sped past him.

  Tilda placed both hands on her cheeks in dismay. “Oh my goodness, this is not going to be the relaxed supper I had planned!” she said to herself. “Better serve fried chicken, sweet iced tea, absolutely no lemon, and chocolate cake. With lots and lots of fudgy frosting!”

  FOUR

  Addie noticed that Dane’s SUV wasn’t parked in front of the old Ross house and she pulled to the curb, frowning. She tapped the photo of Dane that smiled from her cell phone screen and the number dialed automatically.

  “Hey, lady, what’s up?” His smooth, cheerful baritone soothed her nerves. She exhaled slowly, relieved.

  “Just dropped by the house. Thought you might want to grab a bite to eat. Where are you?”

  “Downtown, taking some fab photos of the elegant architecture of Sparrow Falls. Let’s say we meet in ten minutes outside that little internet café. It looks like the most happening spot around here for people our age. Unless there’s a romantic little bar tucked away somewhere that I haven’t found yet?”

  Addie laughed. “Not in Sparrow Falls, there isn’t! The Coffee Click will do.”

  She sped off in the blue convertible and parked on the street outside the café a few minutes later. As usual, Addie thought with a wry expression on her face, Dane Donovan was surrounded by the ladies. He straddled a chair at a small wrought iron table with his arms folded along on the back of the chair, and entertained the high schools kids who were gathered around him, listening in awe to his amusing stories of life as a photographer slash artist slash musician, among other things. Addie wondered how long he had been there, and figured that it hadn’t been long. Dane naturally seemed to attract a crowd, especially women, with his unaffected good humor and stunning good looks.

  He saw her approaching the café on foot and his face lit up. “Addie, darling!” he gushed and rose to greet her, grasping both her hands earnestly like a gallant prince right out of a storybook. Addie heard a subtle rush of sighs from the feminine hearts within the crowd.

  Dane held out a chair for her and the crowd dispersed; reluctantly, Addie thought. He pulled his chair close to hers; sat down and leaned forward, speaking in a soft tone of voice so as not to be overheard.

  Addie giggled.

  They linked hands, resting them upon the top of the wrought iron table while they talked, words all in a rush, as though they couldn’t wait to share all the little meaningless details of the day with each other.


  Magda, Peggy and Delcie gawked at the couple from the doorway of the gift shop next door.

  “They sure look to be in love!” Magda said softly. The trio was standing just a few feet from where the couple sat, and she did not want to be overheard.

  “Poor Pearce Allen Simms. It’s a good thing he isn’t here to see this,” Peggy murmured with dramatic relish. “It would crush him, really crush him!”

  Delcie snorted in disgust. “She certainly takes up freely with every young man who casts an eye in her direction!”

  Magda and Peggy protested, their voices raising and then lowering suddenly when they remembered that the couple was nearly within earshot.

  “Oh, that is an awful thing to say. She is a very nice girl, Delcie!”

  “A handsome man like that would steal anybody’s heart away. Just anybody!”

  The three women ceased talking and leaned forward slightly in one smooth movement to get a better look at the courting couple.

  They needn’t have worried, because Addie and Dane were thoroughly wrapped up in each other and completely oblivious to everyone else.

  A sudden noise behind the gossipy trio distracted them. They turned to see a short, slim man with a neatly cropped beard standing behind them. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the women blocking the door to step aside so that he could exit the gift shop. The man was wearing a lightweight gray blazer over a pair of designer blue jeans and expensive leather shoes, and a gray plaid tam. He spoke to them rudely with a loud northern accent.

  “Excuse me. I am trying to exit the building, if you will kindly step aside!”

  The ladies, taken off guard, stared at the stranger without saying a word. They parted when it appeared that the man was about to shove his way past them, and when he was finally outside on the sidewalk, he turned around and glared at the trio.

  “I am trying to find someone named McGrady. Mr. Lachlan McGrady.”

  Delcie Needles found her tongue at last. “Well, you won’t find him in the gift shop!” she retorted.

  The name caught Addie’s ear, and she looked up in surprise. Dane frowned at the interruption.

  The man noticed the young couple and walked toward them. “Maybe you can help me,” he sneered.

  Addie studied the man without speaking, but Dane suddenly held out his hand in a friendly, disarming gesture. Typical of him, Addie thought.

  The men shook hands briefly and Dane introduced himself and Addie. The stranger did not give them a name in return, but instead, repeated his earlier demand.

  Addie answered, “The McGrady house is at the end of Main Street, just as you leave town. Drive straight down this road for about fifteen minutes. There’s a historical marker with the name of the house on it. You can’t miss it.” She pointed.

  The stranger did not thank her for sharing the information he sought. He turned on his heel and strode over to a sleek sedan parked at the curb.

  Delcie watched him with narrowed eyes. “Now I wonder who that could be?”

  * * *

  Word got around the little town soon enough. Basil Falters, a stranger newly arrived from “somewhere up north”, had gone straight to the McGrady estate and demanded to see Mr. Lachlan McGrady himself! People were shocked at the impertinence of it.

  The next day at the beauty parlor Hazel said, “Hannah Smith told me you could have bowled her over with a feather. She had never seen the man before in her life, and she’s been with the McGrady family for more than forty years!”

  Magda sneezed when the hairspray tickled her nose. She didn’t have an appointment. There was no real reason for her to be there, except to hear all the latest gossip from the parade of ladies who came to get their hair done on a regular basis at Hazel’s Beauty Parlor. Pearce Allen had often teased Tilda MacArdan by saying that he wished his newsfeed at the Sparrow Falls Harbinger, the town newspaper, was as fast and up-to-date as the one at Hazel’s.

  “That Yankee fellow just turned up out of the blue?” Tilda asked. She patted the top of her perm, pushing here and there when she thought Hazel wouldn’t catch her doing so. She didn’t want to hurt the beautician’s feelings, but a new perm was always a little too perfect for Tilda’s taste, and adjustments had to be made before she left the beauty parlor and all the ladies of the town got a good look at her.

  Hazel grabbed the broom and dustpan and began to sweep the yellowed linoleum floor. “Yes, ma’am, right out of the blue. Hannah was about to shut the door on him when Mr. Richard Frederick showed up and said he would like to have a word with the gentleman. So Hannah showed him inside, in the fancy parlor, not the day parlor, and he and Mr. Frederick were in there for, oh, about thirty minutes or so, and then the man left in a hurry, and Mr. Frederick did not say one word, he just went straight upstairs to talk to Mr. McGrady!”

  Tilda crossed her arms and tapped her chin with a finger, thoughtfully. “You don’t say! Now I wonder what that was all about!”

  The beautician shook her head. “Hannah didn’t know, except that she thinks it has something to do with the twins or their mama.”

  “And why does she think that?” Tilda asked. Her hazel green eyes were bright and her head tilted to one side, like a curious little bird.

  The sweeping stopped and Hazel held the broom upright and straw down, at arm’s length. “You know, I wondered that myself, Ms. Tilda! She told me the door was closed, but Hannah seemed to have seen or heard a few things that got her to thinking, I reckon. She said she could have sworn she heard the stranger from up north saying something about Sarah McGrady Wallace, that was the name of the man she married, and so, if he knows that scoundrel’s name, he must have been calling about the twins and the inheritance! That’s what she figured, anyway, and it sounds good to me.”

  “Stands to reason,” Magda chirped. Suddenly the plump little woman bolted from the pink faux leather chair with surprising speed, and pointed out the window. “Yonder goes the fellow now! And it looks like there are two of them, it really does!”

  The ladies gathered around the huge plate glass window without shame. A man with a shortly cropped beard was standing beside a fancy automobile that was parked right outside the barber shop next door. His arms were crossed over a pale blue polo shirt and his expensive gold wristwatch sparkled in the sunlight. Another gentleman, wearing a lightweight gray blazer and gray plaid tam, had his back turned to the ladies. The pair seemed to be in earnest conversation. Eventually the man in the blue shirt shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner, removed his baseball cap and waved it toward the passenger side of the car as he unlocked the vehicle with a remote control key. The other man slid into the passenger seat and flipped the sun shade down to block the bright light as the car backed out of the parking spot and sped off.

  “That must be the Yankee Falters! He was driving that same car when we saw him yesterday at the gift shop. His twin does look exactly like him!” Magda stated.

  The women turned away from the window and Magda resumed her seat. Hazel picked up a large notebook day planner and looked for the arrival time of her next appointment.

  Tilda pushed against the chrome metal bar of the door, making the bell chime against it. She murmured a cheerful goodbye as she exited, but the look on her face, had they seen it, would have given them the idea that her thoughts were elsewhere.

  FIVE

  Tilda MacArdan strode purposefully up the wide brick walkway leading to the porch of the historical McGrady mansion. In her hands she carried a freshly baked blueberry pie, still warm enough to require a colorfully checkered potholder beneath it. Fortunately someone had seen her coming, she thought, because the front door opened a few inches as she approached, giving her the freedom to carry the pie with both hands instead of balancing it while ringing the doorbell.

  To her surprise, it was not Hannah Smith who greeted her with a warm smile. It was Mr. Richard Frederick. “Why, Ms. Tilda, how are you? And you brought one of your delicious homemade desserts!”

>   Tilda beamed up at him with her sweetest, most innocent little-old-lady expression. “I wanted to do something for that dear Mr. McGrady. It isn’t much. But I hope he will like it. How is he today? May I see him?”

  The lawyer’s kind countenance saddened noticeably. “I’m sorry to say that this is not a good day for Mr. McGrady to receive visitors. And Hannah went to the hardware store to pick up a few things he needed right away. I will be happy to let him know you dropped by, however.”

  He held out his hands for the pie, but Tilda deftly sidestepped him and walked into the looming foyer. She wasn’t about to leave that easily, without the information she had come to discover!

  “Oh, I will just put it in Hannah’s kitchen, I know she won’t mind a bit.” Ms. MacArdan hurried into the next room and kept going, ignoring Mr. Frederick’s polite protests. Sure hope he follows me in here, she thought.

  Sure enough, he did.

  Tilda placed the pie on the kitchen table and glanced behind her. Mr. Frederick stood in the doorway, leaning forward slightly with a frown beginning to crease his distinguished forehead. She got the distinct impression that he was not pleased, but was too proper to admit it.

  “Well, now that I’m here and Hannah isn’t, why don’t you let me cut you a slice of this pie? It’s hot, fresh from the oven!”

  “Well, I—” the lawyer hesitated.

  She spied a coffeepot on the counter. “And how about a cup of coffee to go along with that? Won’t take a minute to heat this up. Oh my goodness, the sugar ants have got started early this spring, everybody’s got them. Let me wipe up this spill so they won’t spread. She must have run right out to fetch something to get rid of them. That’s what you have to do for sugar ants! Hannah keeps her kitchen so nice and clean, doesn’t she? A real gem, she sure is! Aren’t many like her nowadays. Never complains, always reliable and trustworthy. Not like some I’ve known. Not like that little Missy over at the Gibson’s. Did you hear about her, Mr. Frederick? Such an attitude, goodness me, she was rude as the day is long! And then they found out she was stealing right out from under their noses! The checkbooks and the credit card numbers! I declare, you just don’t know who to trust anymore. There, the coffeepot’s just a’whistling. Let me find the coffee mugs.”