Magnolia Drive

by Rochelle Alers

  The night ended with the candidates shaking hands with those in attendance, as Keaton made his way to the parking lot to wait for Francine. He was really beginning to feel like a part of the town.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Francine sat in her parents’ family room watching the man with whom she’d fallen in love interact with the man she loved. Keaton and her father had hit it off as if they’d known each other for years instead of twenty minutes. Her mother and grandmother had retired for bed and it was becoming more difficult to conceal her yawns when compressing her lips. Finally, she gave up pretending.

  Pushing to her feet, she crossed the room. “Don’t get up,” she said when the two men attempted to stand. “This is when I have to make my exit, because some of us have to get up and go to work in the morning,” she teased. She kissed her father’s cheek. “Good night, Daddy.”

  Keaton stood up. “I’ll be up to check on you before I leave.”

  She blew him a kiss. “If I’m asleep when you come up, just close the door. You can tuck me in if I’m still awake.” She went upstairs to her apartment, kicking off her shoes and heading to the bathroom. Francine turned on the radio, then the water in the bathtub as she brushed her teeth and cleaned her face. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She knew she loved Keaton and didn’t care who on Cavanaugh Island knew it. She was certain if they married her life with him would be nothing like the one she’d had with Aiden. He would actually love her for who she was, not for her money.

  She climbed into the bathtub, moaning when she sank down into the warm water. A slight smile tilted the corners of her mouth upward. “Mrs. Francine Dinah Grace.” My, my, she mused, it did sound as if she were a society matron, hosting dinner parties or afternoon tea. She sobered quickly. Is that what she would be resigned to? Becoming Keaton’s hostess when he entertained movie studio executives or entertainment reporters who came to the island to interview him? Becoming his wife would thrust her back into the spotlight and she had to decide if that was what she wanted.

  Francine lay in the tub, listening to the beating of her heart. It thumped uncontrollably at the thought of giving Keaton up. Though she may not have wanted the attention, she was not willing to give Keaton up. She loved him that much. Marrying him meant sharing his life as he would share hers. And it would be only a matter of time before those who did remember the actress she once was would come to know her again—this time as the wife of independent filmmaker Keaton Grace.

  If Keaton wanted her to become his wife and the mother of their children, then she was ready to accept his proposal.

  Keaton didn’t sit down again until Francine disappeared from sight. Frank Tanner had welcomed him with a rough embrace, then ushered him into the family room, where they launched into a lively discussion about the Steelers. He’d noticed Francine’s eyelids drooping as she tried vainly to stay alert.

  “You like her a lot, don’t you son?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I do.” Keaton wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know what Francine’s father was talking about because he did not want to insult the man’s intelligence.

  “That’s good.”

  Keaton smiled at the man who’d been his father’s football hero. “So you approve?”

  “I do. It’s been a while since my Frannie found someone who could make her smile. What I’m about to say stays between you and me.” Frank pointed at Keaton and then tapped his own chest. “Do I have your word it will go no further than this room?”

  Silence swelled until it was deafening. Keaton didn’t know what Frank was going to reveal and he wasn’t certain whether he truly wanted to know. He nodded. “You have my word.”

  “My daughter married someone who nearly destroyed her. He took advantage of her naïveté, and once he got what he wanted, he walked away. When the delivery room doctor placed Frannie in my arms I vowed I would always protect her. However, I failed because I couldn’t protect her from a son of a bitch who used her to his own advantage. I seriously thought about killing him, but had second thoughts once I realized how going to prison would impact my family.”

  Keaton stared, complete surprise freezing his features. “Are you threatening me, Frank?”

  “No, Keaton. I just want you to be aware of what she’s been through.”

  “Point taken. The distinct difference between me and Francine’s ex is that I don’t believe in using women.”

  Frank nodded. “I’m happy to hear that. Now go on up and see her before she goes to sleep. Go on,” he insisted when Keaton hesitated. “Come by tomorrow after Frannie gets off and we’ll hang out outside, grill a few steaks, watch some basketball, and shoot the breeze.”

  Keaton wasn’t certain what Francine had revealed to her father about their relationship. However, that no longer mattered. The Tanners knew how he felt about her, and it would just be a matter of time before all of Cavanaugh Island would know once he accompanied her to the Valentine’s Day party hosted by Alice Parker.

  He walked out of the family room, down a long hallway, and to a staircase leading to the second floor. The door to Dinah’s apartment was closed, while Francine’s at the far end of the hallway stood ajar.

  A lamp on the table in the entryway, turned to the lowest setting, illuminated the space. Keaton closed the self-locking door. He sat on a chair and removed his boots, leaving them on a mat beside the drop-leaf table. His footsteps were silent as he walked on sock-covered feet through the living/dining room and down a hall to Francine’s bedroom. The sound of music coming from a radio in the adjoining bathroom pulled him in that direction.

  Standing under the entrance, he leaned against the doorframe, watching Francine. She was reclining in the tub, eyes closed, her head cradled on a bath pillow, moisture from the hot water beading up her bare face. The Oscar-winning instrumental version of “You Must Love Me,” from the Evita motion picture soundtrack, filled the space. As she sang the lyrics to the poignant song written by Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber the emotion in her theatrically trained voice stirred emotions in Keaton that were completely foreign to him.

  It was as if she were singing directly to him: Deep in my heart I’m concealing. Things that I’m longing to say. What was she feeling? he mused. What was she longing to say? That he could become more to her than just her lover?

  Without warning her eyes opened and she stared at him as if he were a stranger. She sank lower in the tub. Her shocked expression changed when a mysterious smile softened her mouth. “I thought you would still be with my father.”

  Keaton entered the bathroom and sat on the chair to the makeup table. “He sent me up here.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I suppose he felt we should have some alone time.”

  Her smile grew wider. “I never figured Daddy for a matchmaker.”

  Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees. “He’s a little late for that.”

  She nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right.” Standing, he positioned the chair closer to the bathtub, and sat down again. “What’s going on with you, Francine?” Keaton knew he’d struck a nerve when her spiked lashes fluttered. He’d caught her off guard and all of her theatrical training proved futile.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Not wanting to accuse her of lying outright, he said, “I believe you do know what I’m talking about. I haven’t seen you in a week.” He caressed her face. “Are you all right? You look exhausted.”

  Francine went completely still. “Thank you for the compliment.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be a compliment and you know it. You’ve lost weight, you have dark circles under your eyes, and whenever you call me at night you sound as if you’re on drugs. What is it?”

  “I’ve never taken drugs!”

  Keaton bit back a smile when she displayed a flash of anger. “That’s good to know, because I don’t want to have to deal with a weed-smoking, pi
ll-popping, coke-snorting girlfriend.”

  “You forgot about meth and crack,” she drawled sarcastically.

  “That’s not funny, Francine.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be funny, Keaton.”

  “Now back to the issue.”

  “Which is?”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m worried about my mother.”

  Keaton leaned over and kissed her temple. “Is she okay?”

  Tears filled Francine’s eyes, but she blinked them back before they fell. “She pretends she’s okay, but I know she’s in a lot of pain. So much so that her doctor told her she has to stay off her feet and rest her back.”

  “How long does he want her to rest?”

  “At first he told her a month, but when she pitched a fit he compromised and said at least three weeks. He prescribed muscle relaxers, and they really make her sleepy. She can’t drive, so that forces her to stay home. Daddy has cancelled his business trips to make certain she doesn’t do anything strenuous. Grandma spends most the day with her—”

  “It looks as if your family is taking good care of your mother,” Keaton interrupted.

  “They are.”

  “If they are, then why are you falling apart?”

  Francine knew Keaton was a little too perceptive for her to hide much from him. She was truthful when admitting she was concerned with her mother’s health but that wasn’t the entire story. Her disturbing vision had manifested. The gaping mouths and the sound of angry voices belonged to those that frequented the Beauty Box.

  “It’s the Beauty Box.”

  “What about it?” he asked.

  She told him everything, except her vision about the arguments that sprang between customers whenever someone mentioned the name of one of the mayoral candidates. “I can’t stop them from talking but the arguments over the race are causing problems. My mother has an in-house rule for our employees that they are not permitted to repeat gossip with the customers, but that rule can’t be enforced on people who pay for our services.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  Francine nodded. “You come in every two weeks, so you might overhear snippets, but I have to put up with the bickering five days a week. I can’t tell them what I really feel because I’d undo all of the sacrifices my mother has had to endure to build her business.”

  “So it’s just the election that’s turning neighbor against neighbor?”

  “Yes. And what I don’t understand is, whoever wins, their lives will not change that drastically. For Spencer it will be business as usual, and if Alice wins we may see some positive changes because Cavanaugh Island is within her husband’s legislative district. For years there wasn’t a road between the Cove and the Landing, and Jason managed to get Congress to appropriate monies to build the road. That happened before he and Alice decided to move here from Charleston. Having Jason live here is a win-win for everyone living on the island because he’s always touted that charity begins at home.”

  “I know it may sound trivial, but you’ll only have to put up with the nonsense for another month.”

  Francine flashed a wry smile. “I hope I last a month without getting arrested for assault. You don’t know how many times I’ve been tempted to pull some woman’s hair out by the roots. Or better yet, leave a relaxer on too long.”

  Throwing back his head, Keaton roared in laughter. “Please, baby. I’m a very visual person. They probably would look like the old woman character in Shutter Island.”

  Despite the seriousness of her dilemma Francine laughed along with him. “I’m willing to bet that if some of them could read minds they would be very, very afraid to sit in my chair.”

  Keaton sobered quickly. “Don’t let them get to you, otherwise you’ll become as nasty and narrow-minded as they are. I think of them as people who have much too much time on their hands or don’t have enough going on in their lives so they have to get into other folks’ business.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it, but I still want to strangle a few of them. By the way, you held your own tonight with our esteemed incumbent mayor.”

  “That’s because he crossed the line, Francine. First, I wasn’t on trial, and if he refused to respect my decision not to disclose information about my business, then he left himself open to take whatever came at him.”

  “Spencer is a blowhard.”

  “Spencer is a bully, sweetie, and I don’t give bullies any energy.” Reaching out, he ran a finger down the length of Francine’s nose. “Have you been eating?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You look thinner.”

  Picking up a bath sponge, she trickled water over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t weighed myself lately.”

  Keaton took the sponge from her loose grip, making circular motions over her chest. “You’re thinner and you haven’t been eating. At least not three meals a day. Please don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

  Francine closed her eyes against his intense stare. How, she thought, did he know her that well? She’d lived with Aiden for nearly a year and he’d never taken the time to get to know her. “You’re not wrong, Keaton. I usually have a sweet bread and coffee in the morning. Lunches are hit-and-miss because I’m covering for my mother. When I come home I’m usually too tired to eat.”

  “That’s going to stop, Francine. I’m going to come here early enough to make breakfast for you. Then I’ll bring you lunch, and when you get off I’ll make certain you have something for dinner.”

  “That’s not necessary, Keaton.”

  “Yes, it is, because if you continue the way you have you won’t last another month.”

  “You’re being melodramatic,” she countered, unable to ignore the sensations coursing through her body when Keaton drew the sponge over her breasts.

  “I’m being realistic and you know it.”

  Her hand covered his, stopping the pleasurable sensations as her nipples tightened and her breasts grew heavy. “Why are you doing this?”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “Feeling you up?”

  “No! Why are you volunteering to bring me meals?”

  His grin slipped. “Don’t you know, Francine? Don’t you know that I love you?”

  “I do know.”

  Moving off the chair and going to his knees, Keaton cradled her face. “Then let me take care of you. If the renovations on my house were completed, I’d asked you to move in with me—”

  “You can ask but I told you before I don’t shack up with men.”

  “I’m not men. I am one man, Francine.”

  “My parents married within a week of their high school graduation because my father didn’t want my mother to live with the stigma of being a kept woman. He had too much respect for her to subject her to that type of ridicule. All I heard growing up is why would a man buy the cow when he can get the milk for free. If I hadn’t believed that, then I never would’ve married my ex. I would’ve shacked up with him.”

  “That still wouldn’t have stopped him from using you,” Keaton argued quietly. “Even though you had a bad marriage, that’s not to say all marriages are that way. All you have to do is look at your parents. I’m certain they’ve had their ups and downs, but they’ve stayed together because they love each other. It’s the same with my folks.”

  “True.” She took a deep breath. “I said all of that to let you know I wouldn’t shack up with you if you were the only man left on earth. That’s not who I am. That’s not how I was raised. However, I have a confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not as anti-marriage as I used to be. I suppose I can thank you for that.”

  He smiled. “Are you saying I should start looking at engagement rings?”

  She paled. “Umm, no… not exactly.”

  “What about children?”

  “What about them, Keaton?”

  “Do you want them?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Growin
g up an only child is not much fun.”

  “Did your parents plan to have one child?”

  “No. Mama said she became pregnant two years after she had me, but unfortunately she lost it in the third month. She waited three years before trying again, and again she miscarried, this time in her fifth month. That’s when the doctor cautioned her about trying again. She took his advice and underwent a hysterectomy. I’ve only heard you talk about your sister. Do you have any more siblings?”

  “Nope. There’s just the two of us. My father wanted a son and my mother a daughter. Apparently they both got their wish.”

  Francine knew it was time to get out of the tub. The water was beginning to cool. She held out her hand for the sponge. “How did they come up with the name Keaton?”

  “Keaton is my mother’s maiden name. There’s a tradition in my family that the firstborn male child is given his mother’s maiden name. My grandmother was Sadie Scott before she married my grandfather. Therefore, my father is Scott Grace.”

  Francine nodded. “It’s a lot easier for us. We select a name and that’s it.” She paused. “Do you mind giving me a little privacy so I can finish bathing?”

  “It’s a little late for modesty, sweetie. I’ve seen parts of your body you’ll never get to see unless you’re a contortionist.”

  Pinpoints of heat stung Francine’s cheeks. Blushing was the only holdover from her childhood she still was unable to control. “Give me ten minutes. Please.”

  The attractive slashes in Keaton’s lean jaw appeared when he smiled. “Okay.”

  Waiting until he’d left the bathroom, she scrambled out of the tub and wrapped her body in a towel. Removing the pins from her hair, she ran a wide-tooth comb through the damp strands. She applied a moisturizer to her face and a lightly scented cream to her body. Pulling on a silk robe, she walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, stopping abruptly when she saw Keaton in bed.