A Piece of My Heart

by Sharon Sala

  “You use baking powder and soda?” Lovey asked.

  “I do if you have buttermilk,” Mercy asked.

  Lovey pointed to the dry goods cabinet, and then the walk-in cooler.

  “You bring me the buttermilk, please, and I’ll get the other stuff,” Mercy said, and flew around that kitchen as if she’d been raised there, unaware that her cop was on his way to Granny’s.

  He came in through the back door, saw Lovey in a mild state of shock, and Mercy in charge. Satisfied that his job here was done, he slipped out.

  Unaware Lon had come and gone, Mercy was focused on doing her best. She had measured up enough flour for the first batch and poured it in the mixer, then added the leavenings and the salt, then added the butter, and started it on low. She watched until she was satisfied it was cut into the flour the way she liked it, then added the buttermilk, and turned up the speed.

  Lovey didn’t know how they were going to taste, but she’d put together dough faster than Ruthie had done in forty years. When she stopped the mixer, she quickly transferred the dough to the floured breadboard and set to work.

  “I need baking pans,” Mercy said.

  The kid came running with a stack of six and set them on the end of the worktable.

  “Thanks, kid,” Mercy said. “What’s your name?”

  “Chester Benton.”

  “I’ll call you Chet. Sounds more manly. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Chester said, and strutted his way back to the sink.

  “What’re you gonna call me,” the day cook asked.

  Mercy was greasing baking pans and didn’t look up. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Elvis Kingston.”

  “Then I’ll call you Elvis. Elvis was the king, and you can’t mess with perfection, I always say.”

  Lovey had been watching without talking, but when Mercy popped her first pan of biscuits into the convection oven, Lovey laughed. “God in heaven, I hope those biscuits taste good enough to serve, because I like you, girl!”

  “They’ll be good enough to serve,” Mercy said, and kept filling up biscuit pans until she ran out of dough.

  They took the first pan out and put the other four into the oven at the same time, before Mercy paused to take a moment to breathe. She stood back, watching as Lovey took a biscuit and broke it in half, then handed half to Elvis and took a bite for herself.

  “What about me?” Chet said.

  “I’ll share one with you,” Mercy said, and pulled one apart in the middle, and handed half to Chet. She took a bite and sighed with satisfaction.

  Lovey ate her half in two bites then wiped her hands on her apron. “Can you make pies and cakes? And corn bread?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mercy said.

  “As good as these biscuits?”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d say that. I was always told that my piecrust was the best, but I don’t like to brag.”

  Lovey started to tease her, then realized Mercy was serious.

  “How much do you expect a month for wages?” Lovey asked.

  “What do you pay?” Mercy countered.

  “I’ve been paying Ruthie same as Elvis…fifteen dollars an hour.”

  “I don’t get that much,” Chet muttered.

  “That’s because you don’t do that much,” Lovey said. “That’s the fourth cup you’ve broken this week. Break another one, and it’s coming out of that pitiful salary I pay you.”

  Chet blushed. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. I mean—”

  He stopped talking and went back to work.

  “So?” Lovey asked.

  “Yes, fifteen dollars is fine. I don’t suppose you know of a place for rent here in town. Nothing over six hundred dollars,” she said.

  Lovey grinned. “Oh, you’re gonna love small-town living. Houses rent for six hundred. Apartments for around four hundred, and those are plenty nice.”

  “I’ll be needing a furnished apartment,” Mercy said.

  Elvis banged the spatula on the griddle and then cleared his throat. “Mr. Graham’s garage apartment is empty, except I’m not sure he’ll rent it out.”

  “You won’t like that,” Chet said.

  “Why not?” Mercy asked.

  Chet shrugged. “No one likes Mr. Graham.”

  “Why not?” Mercy asked again.

  “I don’t know. That’s just what they say.”

  “If you don’t know a truth about someone, the last thing you need to do is spread a lie,” Mercy snapped. “So, Elvis, I’ll be getting that address from you before I leave.”

  He nodded, then glared at Chet, who quickly turned around and went back to his job.

  “So, I’m hired, right?” Mercy asked.

  “You sure are. A true answer to a prayer. I need to tell Chief Pittman thank you.”

  “I’ll be thanking him for sure,” Mercy said. “Now what do you need next? More biscuits, or are you short on desserts? We have a few hours before noon. I might be able to get about a dozen or so fruit pies made before you start serving…if you have all the stuff.”

  “It’s all here,” Lovey said, and then two of the waitresses came in.

  “Hey, Lovey, the customers are freaking out over the biscuits.”

  Mercy grinned. “I’ll be starting on those pies now. Just show me where everything is once, and I’ll be good to go.”

  By noon, all of the regulars who frequented Granny’s had heard about Ruthie’s accident and Lovey’s replacement. The customers came in with full intentions of rendering judgments and left as new converts to the baker at the local cafe.

  Mercy took a few minutes to call Hope and tell her she had the job and wouldn’t be off work until six. She sounded so happy that Hope couldn’t be anything but happy for her, and told her to ride safely on her way home. Mercy was smiling when she disconnected, and then smiled even broader when she received a text from Lon.

  Heard the biscuits were to die for. Congratulations. I’ll be in for pie.

  She sent a smiley face and went back to work.

  * * *

  Lon had fresh coconut cream pie at noon and peeked in at the kitchen as he left, gave her two thumbs up, and blew her a kiss.

  Mercy still glowed from the satisfaction of a job well done when she finally got a break. It was just after 2:00 p.m. when she left Granny’s, looking for the address Elvis had given her. His directions were good, because it was easily found.

  She parked in the driveway between the house and the garage at the end of the drive, and then walked in a hurried stride to the front door. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t the man who answered her knock.

  He wore a black velvet jacket and a crisp, white shirt buttoned up to the collar. There was a Bolo-style tie with a fire opal stone in a setting of oval-shaped silver, and his long white hair hung far past his shoulders. His face was almost devoid of wrinkles, and she couldn’t have guessed his age in a million years.

  “Mr. Graham, I’m Mercy Dane. Elvis Kingston told me you might have a furnished garage apartment for rent.”

  She didn’t know that while she talked, Elliot Graham had checked her out in almost the same way she’d viewed him. Her stunning beauty was as unusual as her height. Her clothing was simple but clean. The fact that she’d arrived on a black Harley now parked in his drive fascinated him, as did the helmet she carried. “Yes, I do have an apartment. Would you like to see it?”

  “I first need to know what it rents for. I’m on a pretty tight budget, having recently moved to Blessings. Right now, I’m staying at my sister’s house, while she’s healing. Her name is Hope Talbot.”

  His eyes widened and then pooled in quiet tears. “Your sister cared for my wife in her last days. She’s been gone five years now, but Hope was a godsend to us.”

/>   “I’m sorry for your loss,” Mercy said. “And I agree that Hope is special.”

  “You are special too. You’re the Christmas gift that saved your sister’s life.”

  Mercy resisted a strange urge to hug him. He was a very unusual man, yet too quiet, only now she understood. He’d lost part of himself when his wife passed. This was all that was left.

  “I love thinking of it like that,” Mercy said. “I hate to rush you, but I don’t have long to check it out. I just started work today as a baker at Granny’s Country Kitchen.”

  He gasped. “What happened to Ruthie?”

  “She fell at work. I understand her injuries will take a while to heal.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear this. She made the most beautiful biscuits.”

  “I make beautiful biscuits too. That’s why Lovey hired me.”

  “Wait here.”

  He moved out of sight for a few seconds and then came hurrying back with a key. “If it suits you, I will rent it to you for four hundred dollars a month, utilities included. I’ll wait here for your verdict. Take your time. I have nothing else to do.”

  Mercy restrained herself from running until she moved out of his line of sight and then loped toward the garage. The apartment above it was the same exterior as the garage—a simple white frame building. She ran up the steps, unlocked the door, and then said a quick prayer.

  Please be okay. Please be okay. I need to be me again.

  She opened the door, and the moment she walked in, Mercy felt at home. The rooms were cold, but there was a thermostat in the hall. When she turned on the switch, she heard it hum. The floors were all hardwood in a dark cherry stain with an area rug here and there. She moved through the rooms, eyeing a small but cozy living room done with a white leather sofa and two black recliners, ornate side tables and a coffee table in the same cherrywood as the floors, and two paintings on the wall, both signed Elliot Graham.

  She smiled. He was an artist. She liked that.

  The kitchen was charming. The stove and refrigerator were standard sizes and stainless steel. The cabinets had been painted dove gray, with a white and silver backsplash, and there was a set of dishes inside the color of onyx. She’d never seen black dishes before. One of the drawers held stainless steel flatware in an ornate design, and another drawer had basic tools for preparing a meal. A set of pans and a couple of skillets made up the cookware, and there was a nice black-and-silver microwave at the end of the cabinet.

  The utility room was small but had a washer and dryer, and the single bathroom down the hall was also in white and silver with a small built-in cabinet where a half dozen matching white towels, hand towels, and washcloths were kept. The bedroom took her breath away. The bed was a four-poster with a matching dresser and vanity and a single walk-in closet.

  It was the nicest place she’d ever rented, and she couldn’t wait to move in. The first thing she would do in that bedroom was make love to Lon. Beauty demanded beauty, and what they did together when they had sex was a beautiful thing.

  “I’ll be back,” she said aloud. “You’re wonderful, so beautiful. You shelter me, and I’ll make this a happy place.”

  In seconds she turned off the thermostat and was out the door, locking it behind her. She ran all the way back to the house and when she knocked, the door immediately swung open. “I love it. It’s perfect. Do you need first and last month’s rent or—”

  “Of course not. How do you know when your last month will come? The utilities run through my house, so they’re already on.”

  “I didn’t bring money into town because I had no idea I was going to do this until Elvis mentioned it, but I can give it to you in cash tomorrow. I’ll put it through your mail slot on my way to work. You won’t be up because I’ll start work at 5:00 a.m.”

  “Then keep the key, so you can drop off some of your belongings as you stop by.”

  She couldn’t believe this man. In a world where everyone always tried to one-up the next, or steal what didn’t belong to them, he’d just trusted the key to a stranger.

  “But you’re not a stranger,” Elliot said, and when Mercy’s eyes suddenly widened, he realized he’d let another part of his secret slip. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to do that, but I think you’re a fellow traveler I met in another lifetime. I’ll enjoy having you as my renter.”

  “If that stove and refrigerator work properly, I will keep you in baked goods, sir. I love to bake.”

  He smiled. “Beauty, skill, warrior spirit, and a kind heart. I didn’t think they made people like you anymore. It will be a treat to have fresh baked goods again.”

  “Thank you, sir. I won’t let your expectations suffer.”

  “Call me Elliot.”

  She pointed to the mail slot in his door. “Four hundred dollars in that slot. 5:00 a.m.”

  He watched as she ran toward the Harley, mounted it in one smooth move, settled the helmet on her head, and rode out of the drive as quietly as a motorcycle could manage. Once on the streets, she hit her stride and flew like an arrow, straight down the street and out of sight; only then did Elliot Graham step back inside and close his door.

  Mercy rode back to work and finished out the day the happiest she’d been in years. She had a job. She had a new place to live, she had a family, and she had Lon. Sex was the word. Their first time had been dynamite, and he’d had seven years to improve on his playbook.

  Chapter 22

  The trio of Talbots waited to eat supper with Mercy when she got home. She was both touched by the act and a little anxious to tell them she was leaving. “You didn’t have to wait,” she said.

  “We did it because we wanted to,” Hope said. “So you’re hired, I take it.”

  Mercy nodded.

  “Are you happy?” Hope asked.

  They watched Mercy’s face light up in a way they’d never seen. “Yes! I’m in a kitchen, not a bar. I don’t have to deal with the public, and I’m doing something I love to do all day long. I rented an apartment on my break. I need to ask a favor and have one of you drop off my things.”

  Hope sighed. “So fast. I’m going to miss seeing you all day, but it’s pretty good timing. Another week at home, and the doctor is going to let me go back on the job part-time. I need to work up slowly to full strength, but once that happens, I’ll be gone every day.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Mercy said. “I know how much you love your job. In fact, my landlord had nothing but high praise for you. He said you were an angel to him and his wife during her last days.”

  “What’s his name?” Hope asked.

  “Elliot Graham.”

  Duke gasped. “You saw Elliot Graham?”

  “Yes. I knocked. He came to the door. Why?”

  “Where’s the apartment?” Hope asked.

  “Over his garage.”

  “He rented that to you?” Jack asked.

  Mercy frowned. “Look. Quit tiptoeing around what you’re trying not to say, and spit it out. I’m hungry, and I have to pack tonight before I go to bed.”

  “His wife, Helena, was a big shot, an interior decorator from Savannah, and he was a nationally known artist. They retired to Blessings about ten years ago because Helena was born here. In fact, the house they lived in was the house where she grew up. She spent years doing it one room at a time. When they had finished, as a treat for their fiftieth anniversary, Elliott was taking her to Europe for a year. She didn’t want to go off and leave their house unattended for all that time, but Elliot didn’t want anyone else living in their home, so she redecorated the garage apartment for the house sitter and collapsed a couple of days later. Incurable brain cancer. She died a few months later in his arms. As far as I know, you’re the first person to live there.”

  Mercy thought about the story. It explained a lot about Elliot. “Sad stuff happens in lives all the time,
and you don’t think much about it until it happens to you or someone you love. Then it becomes the most devastating time in your life.”

  “But this isn’t a sad time. This is a good time for you,” Hope said. “All three of us will take your things to your new place. The guys will carry up the bags and boxes, and I shall delight in making sure they get into the proper rooms. I won’t unpack. I think that should be done by the resident, so you’ll know where everything is. Will we get the key from him?”

  “I have it,” Mercy said, and slid it across the table to Hope. “I have to slip the money for the first month’s rent in his front door mail drop.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “He gave you the key to that apartment without you giving him any money first?”

  Mercy nodded. “A very trusting man. Besides, he said something strange about us both being travelers on the same path, or something like that. Anyway, I have the cash. I need an envelope to put the money in, and I’ll be good to go.”

  “Done!” Hope said. “So, we’re having baked potato night. Big Idaho whites and lots of toppings. You can load it however you like. Jack, the toppings are in the fridge, and Duke will get the potatoes on the plates. You sit here and tell me how the day went, what you cooked, and did anyone complain?”

  “I’ll get the drinks for the table, and then we’ll all share our day. This is one of the things about leaving here I will miss.”

  Hope was trying to smile through tears. “I will never issue an invitation. You will come and go at will because this house and the people in it are officially home and family. You have a key to the front door and the keys to our hearts.”

  Mercy clasped her hands together and then threw her arms out wide. In an unusual spurt of public joy, she did a perfect pirouette in biker boots right in the middle of the kitchen floor.

  * * *

  Two days later, Mercy had finally unpacked, ready for company. She rode home after work with one thing on her mind.

  The cop.

  She ran up the stairs into her new home, still in awe that she lived in such beauty for such a small amount of money. Then she remembered what she’d been told about small town costs versus city living and knew she’d made a good decision.