On the Corner of Hope and Main

by Beverly Jenkins

  Trent continued, “Once the candidates are certified by the Election Commission, a debate will be scheduled. Election will take place the second Tuesday in November. There will be formal paper ballots this time, and absentee ballots mailed to any seniors wanting one. At the next town meeting we’ll float a list the seniors can add their names to for those ballots.”

  Rocky put up her hand.

  “Yeah, Rock?”

  “Are we allowed to write in anyone not on the ballot?”

  “Yes, as long as the name isn’t Trent July.” He scanned the gathering. “Other questions?”

  Riley asked, “Who’s on this Election Commission?”

  Trent rattled off the names, adding, “The commission members will be counting the votes. Barrett will be stepping aside, of course, since he’s a candidate. The official polling place will be inside the Power Plant.”

  Bernadine saw Leo lean over and whisper something to Riley. He nodded and stood. “Ms. Brown shouldn’t be allowed to publicly endorse anyone. It would be undue influence.”

  Bing called out, “You’re still going to lose, Curry.”

  Snickers were heard.

  Bernadine answered, “I have no problem with that, Riley. I won’t publicly endorse anyone.”

  He nodded as if satisfied and retook his seat. She wondered if Leo had expected her to argue.

  Trent scanned the room again for more questions. Seeing none, he brought the gavel down and the meeting was adjourned.

  Mixing, mingling, and eating from the buffet followed. Bernadine left her spot and joined the group gathered excitedly around Sheila, just in time to hear Marie Jefferson say, “Knock us over with a feather, why don’t you. You’re really running?”

  “I am.”

  Sheila looked proud and confident. Bernadine wanted to ask about Barrett’s reaction to her surprising candidacy but didn’t. Her curiosity would be fed eventually though—there were no secrets in Henry Adams.

  Genevieve exclaimed, “Sheila, I’m so proud of you. At the next Ladies Auxiliary meeting let us know how we can help with your campaign. Lord knows we’re not voting for Riley.”

  “Or Leo,” Marie declared firmly, lasering a stink eye in his direction.

  Bernadine wondered if the two had spoken since his return. If he had any sense, he’d give the town’s school superintendent a wide berth, but that not being Leo’s strong suit, drama was a certainty. Leaving Sheila with her supporters, Bernadine made her way through the crowd to the buffet. Former head cook Siz Burke was now working in Miami, but the new person guiding the kitchen, Texan Randy Emerson, was equally as talented, and as devoted to food both tasty and healthy. She helped herself to the fish tacos dressed with a creamy coleslaw and added a nice-size portion of blueberry salsa. Adding a small stack of whole wheat taco chips, she left the buffet and searched the diner for an open seat. Across the room, Tamar waved her over. On the way Bernadine was stopped by Lyman Proctor, the newly elected mayor of Franklin, who asked, “Curry doesn’t have a chance of winning, does he? Working with him will be a nightmare.”

  “Only if they start building snowmen in hell.”

  Pleased, he toasted her with a salsa-filled chip, and she went on her way.

  Tamar July’s booth was crowded with family: Trent, Lily, Amari, Devon, Griffin, Diego, and Mal. Thad was seated like a monarch on his gleaming gold-trimmed chair.

  Tamar said to her, “Tell my brother Henry Adams doesn’t need a casino.”

  Bernadine almost dropped her plate and gave Thad a questioning look.

  He smiled, eyes filled with mischief. “A lot of tribes have casinos.”

  Tamar said, “On tribal land.”

  “Our plot is tribal land if owned by a member of the tribe.”

  Diego chuckled softly. Griffin rolled his eyes.

  Bernadine said, “We don’t need a casino on any of the town’s land, Mr. July.” She felt Mal’s eyes on her but she didn’t acknowledge him.

  “But think how much money it will bring in,” Thad claimed.

  “Think how much money it’ll cost to build it.”

  “There is that, but I was hoping you’d be open to a loan.”

  “To whom?”

  “Me, of course.”

  Amused, she shook her heard. “I may not be Seminole, but I know not to lend money to a coyote.”

  Tamar drawled, “Your reputation proceeds you, Thaddeus.”

  He asked Bernadine, “You sure?”

  “Positive, sir.”

  “Then maybe I need to be talking to old what’s his name.”

  Her brow furrowed with confusion. “Who’s that?”

  “Your ex.”

  “Ah. Be my guest, but he’s a snake, and last I heard, snakes and coyotes don’t play well together.”

  Tamar added firmly, “And after the way he treated Marie, he’ll be lucky I don’t fill his worthless behind with buckshot.” She looked at her brother. “No casino. No Leo. No. Period.”

  He wasn’t deterred. “We’ll see what the populace says once I begin my campaign.”

  Lily asked him, “But how can you even run? You live in Oklahoma.”

  “Was born here, and still pay property taxes on the July plot. Makes me a legal resident.”

  Bernadine guessed she agreed with his take. She didn’t want to, but if he was correct, then by law he had every right to throw his Stetson into the ring. Now, the names on the Henry Adams mayoral dance card were Riley, Barrett, Sheila, and Thaddeus the Coyote July. The ballot was officially closed. Any other candidates would need to mount a write-in campaign if they wanted the job. Mal drifted over to talk with Bing Shepard and Clay Dobbs. She walked away to mingle.

  The Dog emptied out a short while later. Out in the parking lot, Bernadine waved her goodbyes as she made her way to her truck. She was still floored by Sheila’s candidacy and wondered if she could really win. She wasn’t discounting her because anything was possible, but conventional wisdom said Barrett would be the next mayor. Although he was no longer the rigid hard-ass he’d been when he and Sheila first moved to town, Bernadine knew they’d butt heads more than a few times over things both big and small, but his intelligence and well-proven desire to do what’s best for Henry Adams would balance out any disagreements they might have.

  Reaching Baby, she opened the door. Hearing Mal call her name, she drew in a deep breath and turned to meet his approach. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Just want to apologize for walking out on you the way I did.”

  “No problem,” she lied.

  He looked off into the distance for a few moments before saying, “If we can’t be a couple, can we at least be friends?”

  “I don’t see why not, but how about you let me get over this breakup first?”

  “You’ve been acting like you are over it.”

  Steam built up inside. “No, I’m not. And you know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I let you off easy, Mal. I agreed to starting over because you put me on the spot. Instead of blasting you the way I should have that day at Tamar’s, I played the goody-two-shoes girlfriend and kept my mouth shut. I’m still mad about that, and madder at myself for not telling the truth.”

  “I’ve apologized enough for five men. What else do you want me to say?”

  “Nothing. Not a word. You’re not the victim here, Mal. I am.” That said, she got in her truck and peeled out of the parking lot. Halfway down Main, she realized tears were wetting her cheeks; she dashed them away and kept driving.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Leo spent an hour on conference calls with his handlers from Salem Oil and Mega Seed. They wanted to know what kind of progress he’d made, if any. He told them about using the mayor’s race as his cover and that he expected the operation’s pace to increase soon. After the call ended, he read the report he’d had their investigators compile on Franklin’s former mayor Astrid Wiggins. He wasn’t sure if she’d be an asset to his plans or not. Due to her role in the Henry Ad
ams gold riot, the cockroach infestation at Gary Clark’s grocery, and imprisoning the kid she’d directed to plant the insects, she’d been relieved of her duties, and Mabel Franklin, the matriarch of Astrid’s wealthy family, had come down on her like Godzilla stomping Tokyo. Astrid lost her mansion and her privileged lifestyle. She was now employed at the family convenience store/gas station and going home to a single-wide in a seedy trailer park. By all accounts, she hated Bernadine though, and that was an asset. He was certain he could use the animosity, but no idea how. Maybe meeting her would him help decide. In the meantime he decided to pay a visit to an old friend.

  The Jefferson homestead could trace its establishment back to the town’s nineteenth-century founders and had been handed down through the generations for nearly one hundred and fifty years. The nearly mile-long picket fence fronting the land had been painted white the last time he’d been around. Now it was green. The town used painting it as a novel way to punish the youngsters for bad behavior, so he wondered who’d drawn the short straw this time and why. Not that it mattered. He didn’t care about the fence. His interest lay with the land. Two years ago, he tried to sweet-talk his way into buying it from owner Marie Jefferson by feigning a romantic interest. In the days of the founders, she’d’ve been called a spinster: older, never married, and no prospects of that status ever changing. He’d gifted her with expensive jewelry, taken her to Europe and the Maldives, and showed her what it was like to be on the arm of a wealthy man. When he asked her about selling him the land, she’d given him a flat-out no. So he left her and moved on. Now, he was back to screw with her for turning down his offer.

  When he stepped onto the porch, she was standing behind the screen door awaiting his approach. Her eyes, framed by the cat-eye glasses she always wore, were hard. “What do you want, Leo?”

  “Don’t I rate a hello?”

  “What do you want?” she asked, enunciating each word.

  “To see if we could have dinner. For old times’ sake. Can I at least come in?”

  “No to both. Anything else?”

  “Yes. I checked with the State of Kansas and you’re way behind on your taxes, Marie.”

  Fear flashed in her face.

  He smiled smugly. “So far behind that if you don’t come up with a large chunk of change for the next tax cycle, you’re going to lose this place to the bank. Your sainted ancestors are probably spinning in their graves.”

  “And you’re here to gloat?”

  He smiled. “Yes, but also to extend a helping hand. I’ll pay the taxes in exchange for ownership. I’ll even let you stay here until the Good Lord takes you home.”

  “No,” and she closed the door in his face.

  It wasn’t unexpected. Still made him mad, though. Leo walked back to his car and got in. He took solace in the fact that due to the multiple times she’d already refinanced, there wasn’t a banker alive who’d help her out. Her only option lay with Bernadine. Marie Jefferson was a prideful woman and having to ask for aid would probably kill her. She’d not want to go to Bernadine on her knees. Knowing she’d have to swallow that pride or lose her land was enough payback for him.

  Driving away, he decided he enjoyed playing the villain.

  At the small convenience store/gas station where Astrid Wiggins worked, Leo pulled up to one of the four pumps out front to top off the tank of his German import. A few other men were filling up, mostly locals he assumed by their attire and trucks. He noted their silent scrutiny as he replaced the nozzle but didn’t let it bother him, until one called out, “You know, America builds cars, too.”

  “But they don’t build this car,” Leo shot back. “How about you mind your own business and I’ll mind mine.”

  That earned him some ugly looks but he walked to the door without a further word.

  The report on Astrid Wiggins included a picture, so he knew the kid behind the counter whose face was more acne than skin wasn’t her. “Looking for Astrid Wiggins.”

  The kid raised his attention from his phone and eyed him for a moment, then inclined his head. “Over there.”

  Leo turned to see a woman mopping the floor. Next to her was a big yellow bucket with a mounted wringer attached. “Thanks.”

  He walked past a counter holding a small glass-faced oven with dried-out hot dogs rotating in it, and over to the large standing cooler filled with bottled water and beer she was mopping in front of. “Astrid Wiggins?”

  She paused the mop. “Maybe. Who’s asking?”

  “Name’s Leo Brown.”

  She went back to her chore. “And?”

  He debated how to play this. “Two things. First, I’m the campaign manager for Riley Curry. Hoping you can direct me to some people he can count on for support.”

  She chuckled bitterly. “Riley Curry couldn’t win if he was running unopposed. What’s the second thing?”

  “Bernadine Brown.”

  She stopped and met his eyes. “What about her?”

  “I’m her ex-husband. I hear our opinions on her may coincide.”

  Leo saw her glance toward the windows. She appeared to smile as she turned back. “If that means I don’t like her, you’re correct.”

  “Anybody else feel the same way?”

  She resumed mopping. “Why?”

  “Thought maybe we could all get together and form a club.”

  “Dealing with her cost me my way of life. Whatever you’re planning, keep me out of it.”

  “You’re sure? I could make it worth your while.”

  “I’m living in a trailer. If I go anywhere near her, my next address will be the street. So, no. And you might want to go check on your car.”

  He stilled. “My car? Why?”

  “One of the nozzles from a pump is inside your driver’s-side window.”

  Eyes wide, he ran to the exit.

  “DO YOU KNOW why this happened?” the county deputy Davida Ransom asked.

  The furious Leo watched the fire truck drive away and the tow truck driver attach his car to the winch. “I think it was racially motivated.”

  “Because?”

  “You’re black and can’t figure that out? Look where we are.”

  “Did you have an altercation that makes you believe it was racial?”

  He told her about the man’s comment on his vehicle.

  She shook her head. “More than likely you were targeted for your response. Whoever did this probably perceived you to be a jerk, Mr. Brown.”

  His jaw tightened. “I want them charged.”

  “Can you give me a description?”

  “Doesn’t this place have cameras?”

  “Unfortunately, they aren’t working. The clerk admitted to being on his phone when a guy came in and asked for twenty dollars on the pump where you’re parked. Said he took the money and turned on the pump. Didn’t look up. So a description would help.”

  He threw up his hands. “They were white—all of them.”

  “I’ll need more than that. Do you remember glancing at a plate or the make of any of the trucks?”

  He didn’t know a Ford from a Dodge. “They were just trucks.”

  “Okay. I’ll file my report.” She gave him a card. “Call me in a few days with the fax number of your insurance company and I’ll see that they receive it. Maybe the insurance company can go after the owners for the clerk’s negligence.”

  “That’s all you can do?”

  “Lacking any concrete description of the men who may have been involved, yes. I’m sorry. Do you have a way home?”

  “No.”

  “Give me a minute to check in with my dispatcher and I’ll drop you off.”

  Angry and humiliated, Leo grumbled a terse thank you. A few minutes later, she drove him away.

  BERNADINE CLOSED THE FaceTime app on her phone. The session had been with Luis Acosta, informing her about the run he and the department made out to the Wiggins gas station to deal with Leo’s car. That someone had deliberately pumped gas in
to it meant her ex pissed someone off, and since it was Leo it wasn’t difficult to imagine. She was just glad there hadn’t been an explosion or a fire, and Luis expressed the same. But who’d done it and why? Astrid probably hadn’t been pleased, either. Due to the incident, the station would be closed until the state sent inspectors to make sure all the gasoline had been cleaned up. She wondered if Astrid knew who Leo was. Since Astrid’s grandmother Mabel cut her off from the family teat, Bernadine hadn’t heard a peep from her former nemesis. Those who’d seen her said she appeared to have aged quite a bit, which happens when you can’t afford your Botox shots. The gray had grown out in her hair, too. People described her as haggard and worn, which Bernadine found fitting considering all she’d put her and Henry Adams through.

  “Knock, knock.”

  She glanced up to see Marie in the doorway. “Hey.”

  Marie asked, “Do you have a minute?”

  “I do. Come on in.”

  That she closed the office door behind her gave Bernadine pause, but she waited to see if that held any significance.

  Taking a seat, Marie said, “Leo came by my place earlier.”

  Unsure how to respond, she replied simply, “Okay.”

  Marie stared off into the distance for a few moments, then said quietly, “He wants to buy my land. I told him no of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m in a bind though, and he’s trying to take advantage of it.”

  “What kind of bind?”

  “I’m behind on my taxes. I’ll be going into foreclosure soon if I don’t pay. He taunted me about it.”

  Bernadine was surprised. Marie’s deep sense of pride was well known. Bernadine couldn’t imagine what it must be costing her to lay her cards on the table this way, so she asked gently, “How can I help?”

  She took a deep breath. “If you’ll pay the back taxes, I’ll sign my land over to you.”

  Bernadine stared. “I can pay them, but it’s not necessary to give me your land, Marie.”

  “Yes, it is. When I die, there’s no one to pass it down to. You’ll keep it safe.”

  “What about your son?”

  “He doesn’t want it. If I leave it to him, he’ll just sell it—maybe to Leo.”