All She Wrote

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All She Wrote Page 4

by Tonya Kappes

“She’s been in a fit for the past day.” I didn’t like to hear that. He continued, “Vivian told her we couldn’t plant what we wanted to around the front of the condo since it was maintained by the lawn service, and according to the nursing home bylaws, all the plants were to be the same for uniformity. Vivian told her she could do whatever it was she wanted to do in the back, but what Vivian doesn’t know is that the back is one big giant flower garden already, with no room to spare.”

  “It could be worse.” I hid my words underneath the smile on my face when I noticed Mom had seen me. I patted Dad to give him some reassurance it’d get better.

  “There is my ray of sunshine.” She put her arms out for me to come around the counter and give her a hug. “I missed you yesterday. I mean, Monica is fine and all, but she’s not as chipper as you. We need your happy self on Fridays. So give her a Saturday or Monday.”

  Even at fifty years old, I still got advice from my mom. I wondered if Grady thought that about me. I’d tried to keep my opinions to myself when it came to Grady, but I’m not sure if I was any good at it. Being a mother was hard. Being a mother to a grown man was even harder.

  “She’s learning. But I did get a lot done on my dishcloths.” Mom knew I’d been working hard on trying to knit something so I could get better and knit a blanket for the baby before it got here, and not for its sixteenth birthday. “And I met my new neighbor.”

  “New neighbor?” Mom hurried over to the kitchen window and took a plate from underneath the warmer light. She put it on the counter in front of an empty stool. “Sit.”

  “Isn’t that someone’s breakfast?” I questioned her as she grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee.

  “Who cares. I’ve got plenty more. I didn’t see you yesterday, and you can take a load off for a minute to visit with your mom.” She set the mug in front of me. The steam rose from the hot cup, and the familiar smell curled around my nose, giving me a warm sense of home.

  The diner was always like my second home, outside of the farm. What I did for Grady, my parents had done for me. Only they traded me and Richard housing. We’d lived above the diner, and they lived at the farm, where I was raised.

  The apartment was close to the post office for me, and Richard was a traveling salesman, so location was fine for him. Once I got pregnant with Grady, Mom and Dad insisted they needed to be near the diner and I had to have the farm to raise that boy. I’d played the same hand with Grady after I found out Julia was pregnant, only I had the house on Little Creek Road to move into.

  “Good, because I’m starving.” The country ham and biscuits looked so good. Mom put the mustard bottle in front of me, knowing I’d be grabbing for it.

  “Tell me about your neighbor.” Mom leaned her hip against the counter and snapped her finger at my dad when someone asked for a refill on their coffee. He jumped up and got to work.

  “It’s Florence Gaines’s niece. She’s a teacher. . .” I started to say.

  “Yeah. I met her.” Mom didn’t seem none too impressed. “She came in with Florence and Zeke yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah. They stopped in Social Knitwork right before they came here. Florence bragged to high heaven about Zeke.” Through a mouthful of salty ham, I said, “You should’ve seen Harriette Pearl’s face. Heartbroken.”

  “Those two make me sick.” Mom rolled her eyes out of disgust. “What on earth was Zeke thinking when he decided to take up company with Florence?” Mom wagged a finger before she took the dishrag dangling from the pocket of her apron and wiped down the counter around me. “Florence Gaines wouldn’t date Zeke Grey unless there was some sort of arrangement. And I’m keeping my ears open about that.”

  “Are you talking about Zeke’s financial situation?” I asked and took a sip of the coffee.

  “Mmhhmm.” Mom slid her eyes over to Dad and his friends. “Your father told me Zeke mentioned how he mortgaged his house to play in the stock market. Now, that’s what your father said, and he only gets half of everything he hears right, so I’m not really sure, but I have seen him going in and out of the bank a lot.” Mom nodded toward the front of the diner, which was just a wall of windows overlooking Main Street. The bank was catty-corner near the post office, so she’d have a good view of all things going on around town.

  Trust me, my mom had her finger on the pulse of everyone’s comings and goings down Main Street, just like Harriette Pearl knew the comings and goings on Little Creek Road.

  “I heard you and Dad have been hanging out at the community center on these grab-a-dates. Why didn’t you tell me about those fun outings?” I asked.

  I’d heard enough about Florence and Zeke’s dating life, so I decided to change the subject.

  “I didn’t tell you about the Elks doing those? Where has my mind gone? I don’t feel like I’ve seen you at all since you moved.” Mom was very dramatic and worried about me living in the home where someone had once been murdered.

  “Mom.” I put the biscuit back down on the plate. “I’ve seen you every day. You know everything about me. It’s me that doesn’t know what y’all are doing.”

  “We go to the dances and go home. I’m about to stop because I’m sick and tired of watching poor Zeke get taken by that harlot.”

  “Harlot?” I nearly spit out my coffee.

  “Harlot,” she repeated with a hard chin nod. “She comes in here flaunting poor ole Zeke when he ain’t got nothing to his name. Everyone knows he’s done lost it all. She’s acting like she’s his saving grace. I even heard they were getting married. I told your dad that he needed to talk some God-given sense into that old man.”

  “Old man? You mean Zeke?” I asked, figuring there was no way I was going to make her stop talking about Zeke and Florence, so I let her ramble on, barely listening as I finished my breakfast.

  “Mhhmmmhmmm, your daggum right I mean Zeke Grey. He’s lost his marbles, telling your dad how Florence is going to take care of him for the rest of his life. She’s got millions, he boasted at the poker game.” She shook her head and let out a long sigh. “What on earth does a man Zeke’s age want with a woman like her?”

  “Money.” It was pretty simple by what she said Zeke was saying. “But according to her niece, she’s living here to keep an eye on Florence.”

  “An eye?” Mom’s interest had been ignited.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure what that’s all about and don’t have time to gossip with you about it because I’m going to be late for the announcement of the scholarship winner.” I crossed my fingers on both hands. “I’m hoping one of Grady’s football players gets it. I think there are two up for it.”

  “That’s wonderful. Before you go, what can I bring for tomorrow?” Mom was asking about the family Sunday supper.

  “Ummm…” I tapped my temple. “Dad.”

  She groaned and said under her breath, “If I could only leave him at home.” She held up her hand for me to wait while she went back into the kitchen and came back with a to-go box. “Take this home to my grand-fur-babies.” She winked and took the liberty to stuff it in my mail carrier bag.

  “They will love you for it.” She was always sending them something. And it wasn’t scraps either.

  On that note, I hugged Mom and Dad goodbye and headed straight to Tabor Architects.

  “You’re late.” Mac Tabor stood inside the entrance of his office next to what was Julia’s desk.

  “For what?” I questioned. “I didn’t realize the mail was delivered on a time schedule.”

  “For this.” He walked over, took the mailbag off my shoulder, and dragged me in for a nice warm hug followed up by a kiss.

  “If I knew I was going to get that, I’d been here first thing.” I looked into his deep brown eyes and couldn’t help but think I was the luckiest gal in the world.

  It wasn’t too often someone found love once in a lifetime. I truly loved Richard, even though after he’d died, I found out our entire marriage was a lie. But with Mac, I’d found love again. And I was almos
t willing to bet it was a much more authentic love than the one I had had with Richard.

  “Guess what time it is?” I questioned him.

  “What?” he asked, though I could see he was trying to come up with a witty answer.

  “Your six-month dental checkup.” I reached down into the mailbag and pulled his mail out. “Here’s your card.”

  When I said I knew more about people than most of their families, I meant I knew every appointment, every letter, every newsletter subscription, and every bill they got. A few times, I was known to head down to the electric company when someone was getting a notice of shutoff due to nonpayment. Of course, I did it anonymously because if the postmaster knew I was paying people’s bills because I knew what they were getting—meaning I was nosy—I’d probably be fired.

  “Snooping into other’s mail, I see.” He flashed that fancy bright smile at me, making my heart swoon.

  “And a haircut.” I handed him his mail with a haircut notice. “Don’t let her cut it too short.”

  He had thick brown hair that he always kept nice and tidy, not too short but long enough to run my hands through. He had some brains and substance, which was really what I was most attracted to.

  Mac Tabor was also a great friend to Richard, and more than that for me and Grady. It was Mac who had kept Richard’s secret all those years but told me all about it after I’d not been able to really move forward ten years after Richard’s death.

  I was forever grateful for the truth that’d come out after all these years and forgave him for keeping the years-long secret since he was Richard’s friend. After that was when we discovered our attraction was more than just an attraction. We had an actual foundation and a life that he was always a part of. Richard had been “out of town for work” when in reality, he had been in the town where his second family lived.

  So in a sense, Mac was around for all of Grady’s events and anything I needed. And he still was.

  He’d even given Julia a secretary job at his architecture firm, along with great benefits, even though Grady was employed by the school system.

  It might’ve been a rocky ten years, but Mac had gone above and beyond to make up for it.

  “What else is in that bag of tricks of yours?” he questioned and tried to peek inside. “Or in that cart out there.” He looked out the window of the office, where I’d left the cart full of packages for Courtney Gaines.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know about the secret packages your tenant receives on a daily basis?” I asked in a mysterious voice.

  “Really? She gets a lot of packages?” He glanced over my shoulder. “From who?”

  “Mac Tabor.” I gasped. “Are you asking me to tell you post office insider information? How dare you.” I hoisted the bag on my shoulder. “She gets packages from all over the United States. I guess she’s a shopper. One of those online shoppers. But it’s killing me to drag that thing around.”

  “I think you’re getting some muscles,” he teased and squeezed my bicep.

  “I have no time to sit here and gossip about your tenant who moved to town to keep an eye on her aunt Florence, who just so happens to be dating Zeke Grey, who is in financial trouble.” I twisted around to walk out the door. “I’m going to be late for the announcement for the scholarship winner.”

  “That was a mouthful.” He walked me to the door. “But I want to know more about this romance between Zeke and Florence over supper.”

  “You better get carryout because I’ve got to get those vegetables planted in my garden boxes.” I was already late in planting and barely about to hit the cutoff time for growing.

  “I’ll be sure to bring my spade and gloves.” He pulled me closer. “That way we can work double time and have a little snuggle time after.”

  His goodbye kiss sent a tingle from my lips to my toes, barely letting my brain remember my mail route from his office to the church sanctuary, where the winner was about to be announced. All I could think about was snuggle time and how good it would feel for Mac to give me a massage after a long day of walking all over Sugar Creek Gap.

  “I’m glad I’m not late.” I’d found Grady in a pew a few rows back from the altar. A long banquet table had replaced Brother Don’s pulpit. “Any idea who might win?”

  “No clue.” Grady was so handsome. He’d done so well after losing his father at age sixteen. Many teenage boys lose their way in life after a tragedy at such an early and impressionable age, or at least that’s what everyone told me. Everyone came out of the woodwork with various opinions about what I should do as a widow and single mom. Again, it was Mac who helped me breathe through the tough times and really took Grady under his wing, and I have him to thank for the amazing man and soon-to-be father Grady was. “I’m hoping Wes Rogers will get it. He’s been offered a partial scholarship to a D-2 school, but his family can’t afford to pay the rest and not real sure if he can take out a loan since his parents won’t cosign. He’s been doing so well trying to save from his odd jobs around people’s houses so when he does go to college he can cash-roll it instead of having so much debt.”

  Grady looked over at me. There was more concern than usual on his face. I reached over and rubbed his back.

  “Plus, he is bound and determined to change his family history of their poverty. He said that when he gets his degree that he’s going to help his parents financially.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad.” I looked up on the stage where the choir section was located and watched as the scholarship recipients filed in one by one to sit down.

  Clicks from the parents’ phones echoed throughout the sanctuary. It was a proud moment for everyone.

  All of the kids looked nervous and young. In just a couple of months, they’d venture out on their own and start paving a bright future for themselves. I clearly remember sitting in this same spot and looking at Grady upon the stage when he was up for the scholarship.

  He’d worked so hard on the essay part, and I was so proud of him.

  Wes Rogers had his hair neatly combed to the side as if his mom had taken her spitted hand and brushed over it. He had on a nice, but wrinkled, blue button-down and a pair of jeans. The other kids had on suits and a few dresses.

  I noticed Wes and Grady had locked eyes.

  “He came to me and asked if I’d cosign for the student loan if he needed a cosigner. I’ve been throwing him side jobs for the various people around town. Especially with all the mulch recently delivered from the football fundraiser from Leaf and Petal. Anyone who needs help spreading it, I threw all those to Wes so he could use that money.” Grady rubbed his hands together and looked at me with a worry only a mother could see. “Your new neighbor is one of them.”

  “Yes. I heard you knew Courtney from school.” I sucked in a deep breath when I saw him tense up. “What’s wrong?” I put my hand on his back and rubbed it as if he were ten years old. Then it hit me. Iris and her goofy feeling. “You can tell me.”

  “Julia and I had a big blowup about it. I want to cosign for Wes, but she keeps telling me that I have to think of our family. Our baby.” His loving heart was so big. “I. . .I ended up sleeping at the diner apartment last night.”

  “You did?” I questioned.

  My mom or dad would’ve known because they get there early to open for the regulars for breakfast. Grady was done teaching for the summer, so they’d see him leaving. Plus, I thought they’d not moved completely in the farmhouse yet. I guess I wasn’t keeping up like I should’ve.

  “Mamaw didn’t mention it.” Mamaw was what Grady called my mom.

  “I lied to her.” His voice cracked. “I told her I was looking for something we thought we left when we moved. I can’t believe I lied, Mom. I feel awful. I feel. . .” He gulped. “I feel like I’m going down the road Dad did.”

  Stunned. That’s what I felt. How on earth could he feel like his dad when he was doing nothing that his father had done?

  The screech of the microphone turning on blared throu
gh the speakers.

  “I’m so happy to have the privilege to be able to help fund the annual Sugar Creek Gap Baptist Church senior scholarship.” Florence Gaines spoke into the microphone and stood up on the pulpit, addressing the few people in the audience as if she were on the Broadway stage. “We had so many applicants this year that it wasn’t an easy decision to make.” She turned to address the students. “All of you have amazing qualities and deserve the scholarship. Unfortunately, only one will be awarded the money. There was one person in particular who stood out with the essay portion of the application. And we are thrilled to announce Aaron Brotherton is this year’s winner.”

  “Aaron Brotherton?” Grady sure seemed shocked. He kept his eyes on Wes.

  Wes’s shoulders slumped, and his brow furrowed. He stared back at Grady.

  Grady leaned over and whispered with anger in his tone, “Why would he apply? His family has plenty of money.”

  “Whaaat!” Tiffany Franklin jumped up in the choir pew and flung her hands in the air. Poor girl was devastated. “Aaron Brotherton?” She jerked around and looked at Aaron, who looked just as shocked as she was. “He’s got all the money in the world.” Tiffany pointed to Florence. “Old lady, you’re as crazy as they are sayin’ about you! My mama and daddy said you were nuts and this scholarship isn’t for the poor kids! It’s for whoever can get you up in society!”

  Tiffany Franklin was having a giant-sized hissy fit, and I was shocked her mom wasn’t giving her a good scolding.

  “You better hope that you die before you get put in a nursing home because you don’t have no one to take care of you! I hope you get struck dead right here on the spot!” She jabbed her finger toward Florence. The entire crowd gasped.

  Tiffany jumped over the pew and down the middle aisle of the church, slamming the door open and disappearing into the bright rays that burst through the open door.

  “What was that?” I asked Grady, shocked and even more stunned than I was before her tirade.

  “It was a young woman who desperately wants to get out of Sugar Creek Gap with no financial means to do it. Many of those kids up there could really use that money, but not Aaron.” By the way Grady talked, I could tell he thought something was fishy.

 

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