Magnolia Drive

by Rochelle Alers

  “How long is a while?”

  She didn’t want to say it’d been eight years. That was certain to make her sound like a loser. Then she thought about going to the Island Fair with David last summer. It wasn’t an actual date but he had asked her to accompany him. “Six months. The last time I went on a date was last July.”

  “That is a while.”

  She chewed her lower lip. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Keaton. I—”

  “Why should I feel sorry for you?” he said, interrupting her. “If you’re not dating anyone, then that has to be by choice because you happen to be blessed with looks and brains. You caused quite a stir when you walked into Jack’s wearing that dress. Most of the men had their tongues hanging out and I was no exception.”

  Francine couldn’t help the rush of heat that traveled through her. But she had to ignore his remark about gawking at her. He’d made it known that whatever they would share would be strictly business. Pushing off the door, she rested a hand over his chest. “I want to thank you for dinner, your engaging conversation, and your witty performance.”

  Keaton covered her hand with his. “It’s I who should be thanking you.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’d like to do this again.”

  Francine lowered her gaze, her heart rate kicking into a higher gear. In high school she hadn’t been able to get a date even if her parents would have paid a boy to take her out. Things changed slightly when she enrolled in college because the male students were more mature, while a few were forthcoming when they told her they wanted to sleep with her. It wasn’t until she enrolled in a master drama class and met Aiden that she experienced what it meant to have a passionate relationship for the first time. Fast-forward to age thirty-three and a man who’d recently moved to Cavanaugh Island had asked to take her out.

  Keaton embodied everything she’d dreamed about in a man. He was respectful, well mannered, intelligent, erudite, and solvent. He also wasn’t a baby daddy, which meant she wouldn’t have to deal with baby mama drama. “So would I,” she whispered.

  Lowering his head, Keaton pressed his mouth to her hair. “Is there a reason you insisted we not be seen together on the island?”

  “I only said that to keep down the gossip. If we’d eaten at Jack’s tonight it would be all over the island before the sun came up tomorrow that Frank and Mavis Tanner’s girl is dating a snowbird staying at the inn.”

  He laughed softly. “You should know people are going to talk and put their spin on whatever they want. You have to learn to ignore the gossips.”

  “You can do that when you live in a city like New York or L.A., but it’s very different here because everyone knows each other.”

  Vertical lines appeared between Keaton’s eyes in a frown. “If you’re ashamed to be seen with me on the island then—”

  “I’m not ashamed,” Francine said quickly, cutting him off. “I’m just warning you about the fallout if we do go out together.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

  Francine knew she had to let go of the emotional baggage she’d carried for far too long. Keaton was asking to take her out, not marry her. She also had to remember he wasn’t Aiden, a scrub looking for a woman to take care of him.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what, Francine?”

  “I’ll go out with you.”

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Her laughter joined his. “No, it wasn’t.” Going on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “Good night and thank you again for dinner. I have to get to bed before midnight because I’m going to need at least seven hours of sleep in order to deal with the folks who come into the salon tomorrow.”

  “Is it always like that? The back and forth between customers?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you stand it?”

  “I’ve learned to tune them out.”

  “Good for you.” Keaton pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, beautiful. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  He was there, and then he was gone, Francine closing and locking the door behind Keaton. Tossing her keys on the table, she slipped out of her shoes, leaving them on the doormat, and climbed the staircase. She didn’t want to read more into Keaton’s wanting to take her out than it presented. It was apparent he’d enjoyed her company as much as she’d enjoyed his.

  Stepping off the last stair, she touched the switch, turning off the recessed lights at her end of the hallway. The lights at the west wing illuminated the staircase and recently installed elevator outside her grandmother’s apartment.

  Walking into her apartment, Francine made her way through the living/dining area and into her bedroom. While most thirty-something women would’ve loathed moving back home to live with their parents, it was the complete opposite for Francine. She had her own entrance, while her mother and father respected her privacy. Mavis never came to see her unless calling first to question whether she was indisposed. When she’d questioned her mother as to why she’d called her, Mavis claimed it was about respect. Although she was her daughter, Mavis had to respect her as an adult.

  Francine loved her mother and they had become even closer since they’d begun working together, but she knew nothing would make Mavis happier than becoming a grandmother. Francine didn’t like being an only child because she’d felt pressured to grant her mother’s wish. The one time she’d talked about adopting a child Mavis couldn’t stop grinning.

  Adoption still was an option for Francine. She’d admitted to Morgan that there were too many babies and children languishing in foster homes waiting for someone to make them a part of a permanent family. She would celebrate her thirty-fourth birthday on St. Patrick’s Day and with each passing birthday she was reminded that her biological clock was winding down. Walking on bare feet, she went into the adjoining bathroom to remove her makeup and take a shower. Crawling into bed, she pulled the sheet, lightweight blanket, and comforter up and over her shoulders. She tossed restlessly, her mind filled with thoughts of Keaton. There was something about him that made her fantasize about a future with him. It was more than a half hour till she finally fell asleep.

  Chapter Six

  Francine got up feeling more tired than she did before she’d gone to bed. She woke up twice during the night, tossing restlessly until falling back to sleep. What nagged at her was that she hadn’t been dreaming, so she was in a quandary as to why she hadn’t slept soundly.

  She walked into the first-floor stainless-steel gourmet kitchen, stopping short when she saw her parents and grandmother sitting in the breakfast nook. When Mavis met with the contractor to renovate the space on the second floor for her mother-in-law’s apartment she had him update the main kitchen. Her father was the first to notice her.

  “Come and join us, Frannie.”

  She approached her father, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissed his clean-shaven cheek. Born Francis Daniel Tanner, he’d shortened his first name to Frank. He would turn sixty this coming summer, but looked at least a decade younger. His reddish hair was now completely gray, and a pair of large gray-green eyes, surrounded by minute lines, were his most striking feature. Standing six feet in bare feet, he tipped the scales at an even two hundred pounds. He told anyone who stood still long enough to listen that his two greatest accomplishments were becoming a father and keeping off the fifty pounds he’d lost after his football playing days.

  “Good morning, Daddy. I thought you’d be on the road by now,” she said, before kissing her mother and grandmother. Frank was a hands-on franchise owner. He’d made it a practice to visit each of his restaurants every week. None of the managers knew the day or time when he would show up, forcing them to make certain everything passed Frank’s white-glove test.

  “I decided to stick close to home this week.”

  Mavis cut her eyes at her husband. “That’s because I told him it’s time he stop traipsing up and down th
e road so much. His restaurants are not going to fall apart if he’s not there every week.”

  Patting his wife’s hand, Frank gave her a sidelong glance. “You know you want me home because you think I’m cheating on you.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Francis!”

  Francine and Dinah had spoken at the same time. “Now, you know Mama doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body,” Francine said, while glaring at her father.

  Mavis sucked her teeth loudly. “If you didn’t cheat on me when you played pro ball, you’re not going to cheat now—old man.”

  Francine knew her parents had lived in separate states when he played for the Steelers. Mavis stayed with her in-laws in Charleston during the football season, and then moved back to the Cove with her husband once it ended. Unlike some of his teammates, Frank rented a furnished apartment in Pittsburgh instead of buying a house, mailed his paychecks home, and called his wife every night.

  She picked up a plate and walked over to the chafing dishes, lifting the covers to find silver dollar buckwheat pancakes, slices of crisp bacon, sausage links, home fries, and scrambled eggs. Picking up a pair of tongs, she placed two pancakes, a slice of bacon, and a sausage link on the plate. Returning to the table, she sat down next to her grandmother.

  Mavis stared at her plate. “Do you want me to cook a couple of eggs for you?”

  Francine shook her head. “No thank you.” She preferred her eggs prepared over easy to scrambled.

  “If you learned to cook, then you could make your own eggs,” Frank mumbled under his breath.

  Her hand halted pouring juice into the glass at her place setting. “I’m going to take cooking lessons.”

  “From whom?” Dinah questioned, staring at her granddaughter over her glasses.

  “Keaton has promised to teach me.”

  “Who’s Keaton?” the other two at the table asked in unison.

  Francine didn’t know whether she’d spoken too soon, but now that his name was out she knew she had to explain his existence. “He’s the man I went out with last night. He comes from a family of chefs, so when I told him I didn’t know how to cook he offered to teach me. In my kitchen, of course,” she added, staring directly at her grandmother.

  Dinah affected a smug expression. “I guess that means your date went well.”

  Francine rolled her eyes upward. “It wasn’t a date, Grandma Dinah.” Her gaze swept around the table as she took a sip of freshly squeezed orange juice. She knew her mother would never question her about Keaton, but her father wasn’t as easygoing as his wife when it came to protecting his daughter’s emotional stability. And knowing this, Francine never told her father that Aiden had used her financially to advance his career. That had remained her and Morgan’s secret. In between bites of food she told her family about what had transpired between her and Keaton.

  “So, he plans on setting up a movie studio here in the Cove?” Mavis asked.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Frank said before Francine could answer her mother’s question. “Think of the revenue it would bring to the island. He could hire locals as extras, pay shopkeepers to use their stores and other folks who are willing to open their homes for interior shots. Moviemaking isn’t just Hollywood anymore. It’s Vancouver, Chicago, New York City, and Pittsburgh. And now it can be Cavanaugh Island.”

  Francine raised her glass in a toast to her father. “Spoken like the businessman that you are.”

  Mavis dropped an arm over Frank’s shoulders. “I never thought of it in that way. I keep thinking that folks don’t want their laid-back lifestyle disrupted by having movie people hanging out here.”

  Suddenly Francine felt the need to defend Keaton. “Independent films are very different from the big budget blockbusters produced by major studios. They don’t take as long to shoot because funding is limited and they’re always concerned with running out of money.”

  “How long is not long?” Dinah questioned.

  “Many times they can be completed in under a month. And because their budgets are minuscule when compared to the big box office films, the producer will hire unknowns, or if the script is good enough they’ll be able to entice an A-list actor to work for scale.”

  Mavis traced the design on the handle of her fork. “What’s your involvement in all of this?”

  Francine knew her mother was concerned with her leaving the Beauty Box. “I promised Keaton I would introduce him to some folks so he can research the Gullah culture for a script he wants to write. I told him I have no intention of resuming my acting career.”

  “Is he okay with that?” Mavis asked.

  “I didn’t give him a choice, Mama.”

  Mavis glanced up at her daughter. “Did you tell him that because you believe I can’t run the salon by myself?”

  “Please stop being melodramatic, Mama,” she chided. “I love doing hair and you know it. Where else can I work and be entertained by a shop full of comedians every day?”

  “You ain’t lying,” Mavis drawled, smiling.

  Francine stood up, stacking dishes. “Speaking of doing hair. It’s time I head over to the salon. Mrs. Harris is coming in at eight thirty, because she has to be at the airport at eleven.”

  Frank waved to her. “Put those dishes down, Frannie. I’ll take care of them.” He kissed Mavis’s twisted hair. “You girls go to work. Mama and I have to decide what kind of trouble we’re going to get into today.”

  Francine clapped a hand over her mouth. “I forgot to tell you that I invited Keaton to come here for Sunday dinner.”

  Frank squinted at her. “Are you cooking?”

  “Very funny, Daddy.”

  “I’ll cook,” Dinah volunteered, “but you’re going to have to eat upstairs. I don’t know why I have a dining room if I never use it.”

  Mavis smiled. “Should I bring anything, Grandma Dinah?”

  “You can make dessert.”

  “And there’s something else I should tell you, Daddy. Keaton is a serious Steelers fan. He says his father used to go to see you play. I told him you still have a few jerseys from back in the day. Could you please autograph one for his father?”

  “Sure. What’s his father’s name?”

  She winced. “I didn’t ask him. But his last name is Grace.”

  Frank’s expression changed, becoming one of confusion. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “Keaton’s father owns and runs a restaurant in Pittsburg called Sadie Grace.”

  “Oh she-e-e-at,” Frank drawled. “I know exactly who he is! His name is Scott, but everyone called him Scotty.” He wasn’t able to hide the excitement in his voice. “I used to go to Sadie’s at least three times a week. Most of the team would go there and order everything on the menu. We’d call Scotty in advance to let him know we were coming, and he’d shut down the place, with the ruse that he was hosting a private party. Our rationale was that we had to maintain our weight, but in reality it was because they served the best fried chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens, and peach cobbler this side of the Mississippi. I’d go back to my apartment, too full to move, fall across the bed, and sleep like a newborn.”

  Mavis shook her head. “That’s why you came home after the season looking like a blimp.”

  “Don’t hate, honey. I may have been a little round, but I did come home one of those seasons with a Super Bowl ring.”

  “Mama said you were fat,” Francine chimed in, winking at her father. She’d been born the year her father retired.

  Frank rose to his feet. “Your mama sometimes tends to stretch the truth.”

  “You were fat,” Dinah said, deadpan.

  He patted his flat belly. “That was then, and this is now. Just last night Mavis told me I was the sexiest man alive.”

  Francine covered her ears with her hands. “That’s a little too much information for the breakfast table.” She wondered if she were married would she and her husband still make love at sixty. She lowered he
r hands. “Come on, Mama, let’s get outta here.”

  “You’re going to have to forgive your father,” Mavis whispered as she and Francine left the kitchen. “There are times when he’s a little bit too frisky and loose with the tongue.”

  Looping her arm through Mavis’s, Francine pulled her closer. “I think it’s wonderful that you and Daddy still make love after forty years of marriage.”

  “What about you, Francine? You know I worry about you being alone so much. I thought when David Sullivan asked you to go to the Island Fair with him the two of you would hit it off.”

  “David’s not my type, Mama. He’s too buttoned up. I think intense would be a good word to describe him.”

  “Maybe it’s because he’s a lawyer.”

  “Mama, please. I know lawyers who know how to have fun without being so serious.”

  “You’re probably the one who can change him.”

  Francine stopped at the foot of one of the staircases leading to the second floor. “I don’t want to change anyone, because that’s not who they are, no more than I’d want someone to change who I am. What you see is what you get. Either they take it, or they can leave it.”

  “I know it didn’t work out between you and Aiden, but you can’t let him stop you from finding love again.”

  Closing her eyes for several seconds, she blew out her cheeks. “I’m not like some women, who join online dating websites or troll clubs looking for a man. When the time is right someone will come into my life because he’s supposed to be there.” She hugged her mother, seeing the unshed moisture shimmering in her eyes. She knew Mavis worried about her because she was an only child and if she and Frank passed away she would be left alone.

  “If I’m not married by the time I turn thirty-five I’m going to start the process of adopting a child.”

  Blinking back tears, Mavis nodded. “That sounds doable.”

  “Your car or mine?”

  “Mine, of course,” Mavis said. “I’m too old to try and sit that low in your car. Not with my bad back.”