by Eliana West
“Here’s some good news,” Callie announced. “Jacob is almost finished with the bookstore.”
“Do you have anyone in mind to help run it?” Emma asked.
“I’ve placed an ad, but no one has applied yet.” Callie picked up a small rock, turning it over in her hand and running her thumb over the smooth surface before throwing it into the pond and watching it skip across the water.
“I don’t expect anyone around town will want to work for me, not if they’re going to get harassed by Dorothy Ellis and her minions, and I don’t blame them. It’s not the kind of job I would expect someone to move here for so I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
Emma sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I have a suggestion. I have a cousin…” Her gaze darted between Callie and Mae. “She’s not like the rest of my family, I promise. Her name is Charlotte Walker. She’s been working at a café in Greenwood but…I think she’s looking for a change.”
Her friend’s eyes lit up. “I’ll have her come by the library one day next week. You’ll like her, I promise.”
Mae opened another beer. “Great now that we have that settled when do you think Dax is going to ask you out on a proper date?”
“How about you tell us about your date last week instead?” Callie challenged.
Mae flopped back and threw her arm over her eyes. “Worst date ever,” she groaned. “Don’t ever let me go out with a lobbyist again.”
“What happened?” Emma leaned forward, eager for a good story.
“I should have known he only wanted to go out with me because he had a proposal for the congressman. And then get this.” Mae sat up. “That little shit had the nerve to tell me I was too educated for him.”
“What?” Callie and Emma both exclaimed.
“Yeah.” She smirked. “He said my English was too proper and he related better to Black girls who were more real.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Emma stared at them with her mouth open. “Is…is that a thing?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Mae sighed. “Some people don’t understand that there’s more than one way to be Black.”
“Somewhere out there is a guy who will love you just the way you are.”
“Spoken like a true romantic.” Mae laughed at Callie’s declaration. “What about you, Emma, any prospective beaus hanging around?”
Emma turned a bright shade of pink and shook her head. “I…I don’t have time.”
Callie glared at her cousin. “Don’t tease her,” she mouthed.
Mae shrugged. “Sorry,” she mouthed back.
A loud squeal echoed across the water. The three of them jumped up. Callie shaded her eyes against the sun’s glare and peered across the pond.
“Presley,” Emma sighed.
“And her friends—I don’t understand why they have to come here. Why can’t they stay at the country club and leave the pond for us poor folks?” Mae grumbled.
“Your parents belong to the country club now too,” Callie reminded her.
“Now is not the time to be logical.”
“We should go.” Emma edged away. “I know some of those boys. We should go,” she repeated. Emma began gathering up her things, her eyes darting nervously toward the group that gathered across the pond.
“Well, hell,” Mae muttered.
They all stopped picking up their things and watched Dax, Jacob, and Ashton join the group across the pond. Presley let out another ear-splitting shriek and bounced toward them, throwing her arms around Dax. Callie’s breath caught when Jacob nodded toward them. Dax stiffened, his mouth turned down, while Presley wrapped both her arms around his waist, molding herself to his side. Her eyes narrowing to slits, she gave them a smug smile while Ashton lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave. Callie tore her gaze away, shoving her beach towel and book into her bag. Would it be just a matter of time before Dax fell back in with his old crowd and started calling her names again she wondered.
“He didn’t look happy to be there,” Emma offered on the ride back.
“I just don’t understand why after everything he’s been saying he would be hanging out with that crowd.”
Emma sandwiched Callie’s hand in hers. “It’s okay, I’d be jealous too if I saw Presley wrapped around someone I liked.”
“Like a goddamn anaconda,” Mae muttered.
Jealous? The air washed out of Callie’s lungs, as she realized that’s exactly what she was. Jealous. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the headrest.
They dropped Emma off and Mae drove to Callie’s house. She turned off the engine, and leaned on the steering wheel. “Do you want me to come in?”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Can I be honest? It’s kind of nice to see you get your feathers ruffled.” She held up her hand as Callie opened her mouth. “Hear me out. You’re always so calm. It’s pretty clear there’s something going on between you and Dax. Don’t let Presley Beaumont run you off.”
Callie swallowed. She shared just about everything with Mae, but she couldn’t tell her about the notes she’d been finding in the library. Presley was at the top of her list of suspects. Of course, Presley wouldn’t get her hands dirty to throw a brick, and she might break a nail, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have gotten one of her friends to do it. She’d bat her eyes and flip her hair, simper and whine and get some poor fool to do her bidding. That knowledge added to her discomfort seeing Dax with her today.
“This thing with Dax is new, he’s not my boyfriend, he can hang out with whoever he wants to.”
“You’re right and I should mind my own business.”
“You’ve always been a fixer Mae and I love that about you but you need to know when to let people work out problems on their own and this is one of those times. Whatever happens between Dax and I, if…” she held up her hand when Mae opened her mouth, “anything happens between us it will happen in its own time and you can’t force it.”
“You know I push because I love you right?”
“I know.” Callie gave Mae a hug.
Once Mae pulled away Callie went inside and made herself a cup of tea. Seeing Dax with his old group of friends brought back memories of the last summer she saw Dax. Only this time his confident smirk was replaced with a frown. Maybe she was wrong thinking Dax had changed but he’d shown her in so many ways that he had. Callie decided that even though she’d been taking things slow they were still going too fast.
Chapter Eighteen
Mr. Wallace thumped two beers down, taking Dax’s money with a grunt and a raised eyebrow before he went back to polishing the bar with a rag that was more a pile of loosely connected threads than a piece of useable fabric. Other than being a little grayer on his head, not a wrinkle had been added to his rich, dark skin over the years. No one really knew how old he was, but he must be over seventy now. For as long as Dax could remember, Mr. Wallace had polished that bar and keeping his conversations with his customers to one or two words since he’d taken over the old juke joint from his father many years ago. The bar had passed from father to son for at least four generations now.
Dax nodded his thanks. Peanut shells that littered the floor crunched under his feet. Mr. Wallace’s idea of snacks were piles of roasted peanuts on every table. The shells usually reached a depth of an inch or two before they were swept away. He slid one of the beers in front of Jacob.
“How old do you think this place is?” Jacob asked, eyeing the ax marks on the rafters above.
“Over a hundred years at least,” Dax said, kicking at the peanut shells under his feet. The decor at the Buckthorn consisted of shiplap walls and bare oak floors; picnic tables scattered around the room created a maze leading to the bar at the back of the room. Light bulbs covered in chicken wire gave off just enough light that you could pick out a friendly face in the crowd. The smoky wheat smell of whiskey mingled with the scent of peanuts. They sat at one of the picnic tables nursing the
ir drinks and their sunburns.
“Well, that was a dumb idea,” Dax said.
“Okay, I’ll admit you were right about that, but we had to try.”
Mae walked in and joined them at the bar. “I don’t know what you guys are up to, but you’re not going to win over Callie by hanging out with Presley and her friends.”
“I’m sorry, Mae,” Dax said.
“What in the hell is that smell?” Jacob interrupted, covering his nose with the palm of his hand.
Her perfume announced her arrival long before Presley arrived at the bar.
“Well, hello there, handsome,” she said squeezing Dax’s arm as she perched as close to him as possible without actually sitting in his lap. Dax leaned away, trying to get away from the cloying scent of baby powder mixed with cotton candy. “You haven’t called.” She pouted, pressing up against him and making sure her cleavage was on full view.
“I just saw you a few days ago, Presley. Don’t wait for me to call because that’s not going to happen.”
“But we had so much fun at Turtle Pond.”
“We were there for half an hour and you wouldn’t leave me alone so we left.”
Presley gaped at him like a dying fish while Dax freed himself and moved to the other side of the table. Ashton dropped down next to her, fanning his face.
“Jesus, Presley, why do you have to wear so much of that drugstore crap?”
Jacob choked on his beer laughing.
Presley glared at Mae, Jacob, and her brother. “Maybe you can find a table. Dax and I need to talk.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mae said.
“Where’s your little friend tonight?” She smirked. “Looking for some other mutts to play with?”
Dax reached for her, but Jacob caught Mae, pulling her against his chest. “Don’t do it,” he said in a low voice.
“Keep your filthy hands off me,” Presley squealed.
“Shut up, Presley,” Ashton scowled at his sister.
“What are you even doing here anyway?”
“Are you seriously asking what I’m doing here? You’re lucky Mr. Wallace allows your sorry ass in this place. Do you know the history of juke joints? They were started for us—” Mae thumped her chest “—because your kind wouldn’t allow us to get a drink anywhere else. You. Don’t. Belong. Here.”
“Come on, pixie, let me buy you a round.” Jacob practically picked Mae up and whisked her toward a table.
Mae punched Jacob’s arm as he led her away. “You call me a pixie one more time and I’ll turn you into a haint.”
“Sure thing, short stuff.”
If looks could kill, Jacob would have turned into a pile of dust right then and there.
Presley flipped her hair and turned her attention back to Dax. “How can you just let her talk to me like that?”
“Because she’s right,” Ashton said.
“She thinks she’s better than us because her daddy’s rich, but money can’t buy you class.”
“Do you think you have more class than Callie?” Dax asked.
Presley giggled, completely unaware of the anger that radiated from him. “Of course. Lower-class people always want to marry well and move up, silly.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Ashton said.
Dax stood with enough force to make Presley lose her balance and fall off the stool and onto her rhinestone, denim-covered ass.
“Ashton, I’m going to sit with Jacob and Mae—you want to join me, I’m buying? I’d rather drink with the lower classes than an ignorant racist.”
Ashton looked down at his sister, shaking his head. “Grow up, little sister. Don’t come crying to me when you end up without any friends in this world.”
“Ashton Beaumont, I am your kin. You should be on my side!”
“Not when you’re wrong.” Ashton turned and followed Dax to the table. “Hey, Dax, any chance I could rent one of those apartments in your building? It’s long past time that I move out. I just didn’t want to commit to getting a house. But that one—” he jerked his thumb to where Presley just walked out “—is going to be impossible to live with.”
“It will be a little while before they’re ready, but sure, I’d be happy to have you as a neighbor.”
Ashton grinned. “Great, I’ll come by tomorrow and we can talk more.”
*
Dax waited two more days before he made his way to the library to see Callie. She’d been avoiding him since the day at the pond and he was determined to set things straight. It was a dumb idea to try and see if they could get any clues about who was harassing her from Presley and her friends.
When he walked into the library Callie was standing behind the checkout desk, frowning at an envelope she held in her hand.
“Callie, is something wrong? It isn’t another notice from the inspector, is it?”
She looked at him and then back down at the envelope. “These started arriving just before you moved back.”
He took the envelope out of her hand. There was nothing on the front. He pulled out the folded piece of paper and drew in a sharp breath when he opened it.
GET OUT OF COLTON OR DIE LIKE THE DOG YOU ARE
The words were neatly printed out, in handwriting Dax didn’t recognize.
“How many of these have you gotten?”
Callie walked over to her desk and pulled out a handful of envelopes that matched the one that he held. Dax read each one. The one she just received was the first one with a death threat.
“Callie, why haven’t you said anything, have you told anyone about these?”
“Who am I going to tell—Sheriff Crosby? Do you honestly think he would do anything? If I tell my parents they’ll just send bodyguards. I came here to live a normal life. Having men in suits following me around everywhere isn’t going to help.” She slumped against the counter. “I’m not going to be scared away by some nasty notes someone keeps putting into the book return.”
“Callie, this is serious.” Dax shook the notes at her. “You should have told someone.”
“Well, now you know.”
A couple of patrons came into the library, eyeing Dax and Callie with curiosity while they browsed the shelves. Dax leaned forward. “We are not done with this conversation,” he whispered.
“Doesn’t Presley need you to escort her to whatever cotillion or country club dance your mother has planned?” she whispered back. “I can take care of myself.”
He pretended to browse the shelves until they were alone again.
“Callie, Mae told me about your tires being slashed and the other incidents.”
“She shouldn’t have.”
“She did because she’s really worried about you, and so am I. That’s why Jacob and I were at Turtle Pond, we were trying to find out if Presley or any of her friends had anything to do with what’s been happening.”
“You don’t get to come back and play knight in shining armor, Dax. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, don’t you understand, I care about you, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Remember what you said on my porch in the rain, you haven’t earned me yet. You can’t just stroll in and take charge. Whatever we are it’s still new and we have to figure out what the boundaries are.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I know you are and I appreciate it, but this isn’t your fight.”
“You can’t stop me from caring about you and I protect the people I care about.”
“Even if that means going against your mother?”
Dax didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll let you know when I need your help, until then we have to figure out how to be friends before we can be anything else and that takes time.”
The door opened and another customer came in. Callie turned to greet her patron and Dax knew the conversation was over for now. He went next door to the bookstore where Jacob was putting the fi
nishing touches on the coffee bar.
“We have a problem,” he announced.
Chapter Nineteen
The evening sunlight filtered through the large oak tree, creating a leaf lace pattern on the large tombstone. Callie’s fingertips traced over the words carved into the pale gray granite.
Richard Colton, Beloved Husband
Minnie Colton, Beloved Wife
United in Life, United in Death
Those we love don’t go away, they walk beside us every day.
“I miss you,” Callie whispered fighting back her tears. It was always hard going to the cemetery, and yet it was important to Callie that she went to visit her grandparents’ gravesite. “There’s so much happening in Colton. I wish you were here so I could share it with you. I’ve almost got the bookstore open, and there’s another new business in town.” Callie could feel herself blushing. “Dax Ellis is back and he bought the Barton Building. He’s been working hard to restore it. Grandpa you’d be so happy with how nice it looks, he’s helping to make our little town shine again just like you hoped it would. Dax has changed he’s…different. I like him.” She whispered her confession.
A cardinal swooped down and flitted back and forth in front of her, tilting it’s head as if the little bird wanted to hear what Callie had to say.
“Ella brought a lemon cake to the library for my birthday today, but it’s just not the same.” She ran her hand over the blunt ends of the freshly cut grass around the gravestone, plucking a few weathered and dried rose petals. She made sure to make an extra donation to the church to keep it that way. Her gaze roved over the small but immaculate graveyard next door to the Colton Baptist Church. Her yearly donation ensured that, along with her grandparents’, every grave was tended, honoring every descendants of the slaves buried in unmarked graves somewhere on the grounds of the plantation. Callie could only bring herself to visit twice a year on the anniversary of their deaths and today, her birthday. “If you’re wondering, Mom and Dad didn’t call.” She shifted, leaning up against the side of the gravestone, a poor substitute for the hugs her grandparents always had for her. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pressing her shoulder into the cold stone. “I’ve made a life for myself here but I miss you so much. Grandma, no matter how hard I try I can’t get my 7UP cake to taste like yours.” Her voice broke. “And, Grandpa, I’m trying to keep your legacy and the library going but sometimes…”