Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  Still, she hesitated. Maybe she really was a dispassionate square.

  Thomas tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you for that, you know.”

  Taken aback by his admission, she stared up at him. “For what?”

  “For being honest with me. For daring to say how you feel, even if you think you’ll be judged harshly for it. Which you’re not, of course.”

  She still didn’t understand.

  “Wynona,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “You are one of a kind, and I value your openness.”

  Even embarrassed by her lack of worldly knowledge and sad that he wasn’t going to sweep her away in a moment of crazy abandon, for the moment anyway, Winnie fell in love with Thomas that night. She knew she’d found a man with a good soul. A man who valued her. A man to hold onto.

  * * *

  Tara stood in the open front doorway, watching as Justin hurried across the lawn toward his truck.

  On a normal morning, he would be on his way to drop off Bella with Winnie, and Tara would have been busy cooking breakfast and handling checkouts. This morning, however, as she’d hurried to dress Bella, Blanche had tapped on the door of their suite. When Justin answered, the woman had simply smiled and told them to relax and enjoy their morning with the baby, that she had breakfast and checkout under control.

  Justin had been happy enough with the state of affairs as he’d called Winnie to let her know they’d not be coming. But Tara, unable to stand still and do nothing, wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She had collected Bella and followed him down to the front door. How strange it had been to give him a kiss and simply wave goodbye.

  She looked down at Bella balanced on her hip. Was Justin so uninterested in the Inn that he could just walk away? Was he not even worried about a stranger running breakfast? Couldn’t he at least see that she was struggling with it?

  A chubby hand reached toward the porch. “Daddy?” Bella asked sadly. Obviously, she was confused why she wasn’t headed out the door with him too.

  Tara had to agree with her daughter. Everything had changed and the shift did not feel good. Motivated by the cool nip in the air, she closed the door and leaned against it. She too felt left behind.

  With a long sigh, she headed across the room and tripped over Blanche’s blue pumps, discarded by the door.

  “Blue,” Bella said, squirming to be let down.

  Tara set the baby on her feet, and Bella plopped down to try on the pumps.

  In a funk, Tara walked to the kitchen doorway, wondering what to do. Sure, she’d spent the afternoon yesterday with Blanche, going over breakfast menus and check-out procedures, but that didn’t mean she was ready to hand it off. Did it?

  The smell of brewing coffee, cooking bacon, and flapjacks wafted from the room.

  Blanche glanced over her shoulder from where she stood, shoeless and apron clad, at the stove. A characteristic toothy grin bloomed across her face. “Oh, good morning, dear, are you and little Miss Bella hungry?”

  Unaccustomed to being waited on, Tara hesitated. She felt like a guest in her own home.

  Bella clomped up to her side, wearing Blanche’s shoes. “Blue!” she exclaimed, pointing at her feet.

  “Yes, baby,” Tara muttered, patting Bella’s head as she took in the table, each place setting complete with coffee mugs and cloth napkins.

  “Oh, my goodness sakes, isn’t that the cutest thing!” Blanche exclaimed, holding one hand to her heart. She crossed the room to crouch in front of the little girl. “Do you like pretty shoes? I really do.”

  “Shoe,” Bella said solemnly.

  Blanche straightened and motioned toward the table. “Come on in and sit down, would you like coffee?”

  “I can get it,” Tara said, but she was headed off by the older woman.

  “Don’t be silly. Here—” She pulled out a chair. “You and the baby get comfortable.”

  Bella clomped across the room in the blue pumps. Tara lifted her out of the shoes and put her into her high chair, then perched on a chair.

  A young couple, guests, rounded the corner into the kitchen. Tara stood, with a good morning welcome on her lips, but Blanche stepped in front of her.

  Welcome!” the older woman gushed. “Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Tara lowered back into her chair.

  The pretty young woman came toward the table and offered Bella a wave.

  Bella buried her face in Tara’s shoulder.

  “She’s feeling a little out of sorts this morning,” Tara explained to the couple.

  The man smiled at Bella. “I’m no good before my coffee either.”

  “Here you go,” Blanche sang out, circling the table pouring coffee for the group. “Does anyone want cream? Sugar is here on the table.”

  “I would,” the woman said.

  Tara once again rose from her chair, but Blanche beat her to the fridge. She lowered into her seat again, feeling as if she’d been demoted.

  Chapter Ten

  Tara lifted Bella into the booth at the diner. “Do you want a booster seat?” she asked.

  Bella ignored her, so Tara slid into the booth and settled her bag by her feet.

  Winnie settled in across the table and plopped her oversized purse on the seat next to her. “This was a nice surprise,” she said, smiling at Bella.

  The little girl pulled a menu from behind the napkin holder and perused her options, just like a grown-up.

  “I don’t have anything else to do,” Tara huffed, glancing toward the kitchen behind the bar for Marge.

  “Well, thanks a lot,” Winnie replied. “Nice to know I’m a last resort.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t mean it that way.”

  “I try to, dear,” Winnie said, glancing over the menu. When Tara didn’t continue, she turned the page of the plastic menu. “So, how are things at the Inn going?”

  “Fine,” Tara mumbled.

  Winnie glanced up, then back to her menu. “How did it go this morning with Blanche?”

  Tara adjusted the salt and pepper shakers and rearranged the cream containers in their little bowl. Then she pulled out a napkin to wipe the clean table.

  Winnie watched in silence.

  Finally, Tara wadded up the napkin and looked up to meet Winnie’s gaze. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

  “Because you’re not telling me why for the first time in two years, you called and invited me to breakfast at the diner.”

  Tara slumped in her seat. “I just— I had to get out of there.” She said, her voice small.

  Winnie’s eyebrows rose. “Why is that? Did Blanche offend you or something?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Tara sighed, “I just didn’t know what to do.”

  Winnie was concerned. She hadn’t seen Tara this down for a long time. “What did Blanche do?”

  It took a moment for Tara to answer. “Cooked breakfast.”

  “Sounds terrible,” Winnie said.

  “Cracker pwease!” Bella shouted. “Pwease,” she added again with a toothy grin.

  With a long sigh, Tara tugged out the diaper bag and rifled through it. She found a package of crackers and opened it for Bella. “Blanche is very efficient and everything was lovely,” she said, plopping the bag back onto the floor. “I guess I’m just not sure what my job is now.”

  Winnie’s expression softened with understanding. “Oh honey,” she said taking Tara’s hand across the table. “This will be an adjustment.”

  “It’s weird, Winnie,” Tara continued, staring at their hands, Winnie’s old and hers young. “It’s like I don’t belong in my own house anymore.”

  “It’s difficult, I’m sure.”

  Bella finished her cracker. “More pwease?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, honey, wait for the food to come,” Tara said.

  “Pwease?” The little girl begged.

  Tara took the empty wrapper. “You can wait, like
a big girl.”

  “I can’t want to,” Bella huffed with a frown.

  Tara looked at the baby, her eyes wide. Then she turned to Winnie. “Did you hear that? She said a sentence!”

  “I did hear it,” grinned Winnie. “Well done, Bella. You’re so big!”

  Tara clapped.

  “Cracker,” Bella tried again.

  Marge limped up to the trio. “Sorry about the wait,” she said, bringing two tumblers of water and a plastic cup with a lid for Bella. “What would you ladies like today?”

  Tara and Winnie both looked down at Marge’s swollen ankle.

  “What did you do to your foot?” Tara asked.

  Marge rolled her eyes. “It’s that sister of mine. She never slows down. I can’t keep up.”

  “What happened?” Winnie asked.

  “Oh, she insisted that I try a round of golf with her. I told her I don’t play golf.”

  “Did you step in a hole?” Tara asked.

  “Cracker!” Bella insisted.

  “Hi honey,” Marge said with a wave to Bella. “Want me to bring her some fries or corn bread?” she asked Tara.

  “Do you want fries?” Tara asked the baby.

  “No fanks. Cornbob,” Bella said, with a nod.

  “There you have it,” smiled Marge.

  Tara glowed with pride over her daughter’s answer.

  “Is your foot broken?” Winnie asked.

  “No,” Marge replied with a sour expression. “The doc says it’s just a sprain. I tried wrapping it, but I couldn’t get my shoe on.”

  “Why didn’t you take the day off?” Tara asked.

  “Well, who would feed you fine ladies if I did?”

  Winnie and Tara tossed each other a glance. Neither of them could remember a day Marge hadn’t come into the diner for over 20 years.

  “How’d you do it?” Tara asked again. “Take a wild swing and hit your own foot?”

  Marge waved her off with a laugh. “Are you kidding? I twisted it getting out of the golf cart after my second martini.”

  The women all laughed.

  “Are you enjoying having Blanche in town?” Winnie asked. “Aside from injuries and all that, I mean.”

  Marge pulled over a chair and dropped into it. “Oh, I do love that lady, but she takes it out of me.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Tara, always curious about what it must be like to have a sister.

  Marge thought for a minute. “She’s always been so dang much fun. You know, the life of the party. I’m just— I’m just me.”

  “She does have a lot of energy.” Tara agreed.

  “She’ll do great for your Inn, you’ll see,” Marge said to Tara. “She loves taking care of folks.”

  Winnie and Tara agreed.

  “Once she got over that wild streak, anyway.” Marge added, causing Winnie and Tara’s ears to perk.

  “Wild streak?” Tara asked.

  “When she was younger, she was quite the one to be involved with everything,” Marge answered, shaking her head.

  “So was Winnie, evidently,” Tara said, giving Winnie a look.

  Marge laughed. “Oh, come on now. Winnie was trying to change the world. Blanche just liked a wild party.”

  “Tell me more about Winnie, back in the day.” Tara said, motioning across the table. “She’s being very tight-lipped about her college days.”

  Marge grinned and looked over their head. “Let me see…”

  “No need to repeat gossip,” Winnie admonished, squirming in her seat.

  “It’s not gossip if it’s true,” Marge joked, tossing Tara a wink. “Did she tell you about the riots she was in?”

  “Riots?!” Tara cried, looking from Marge to Winnie and back.

  Winnie scowled at her old friend.

  “That my cue,” Marge quipped as she jumped up and pushed the chair back to its proper table. “Would you two like the breakfast combo? It’s Bud’s specialty.”

  Neither woman answered, both too engrossed in the information Marge had shared. “So,” the waitress continued, “Two specials coming right up!” With that she limped away, much quicker than she’d limped out.

  “Riots?” Tara demanded, determined to get an answer this time.

  Winnie shrugged. But her mind couldn’t help but go back to the first time she’d attended a sit-in with Claudia and Thomas. Sure, she cared about boys dying in the war, but it wasn’t her place to fix the problem. She was just one girl. For the most part, she’d tried to ignore the madness around her and to stay focused on her studies. But with Thomas so passionate about the cause, and Claudia egging her on, she’d decided to go. Besides, she worried about Claudia, somebody had to keep tabs on her these days. Not to mention, Thomas had organized the sit-in, and she wanted to learn more about what he was involved with. However, nothing but her feelings for Thomas and her concern for Claudia combined, would have prompted her to miss her history study group.

  It was colder than usual for November and dark. Some hundred students had turned out for the rally. Claudia nudged Winnie in the ribs. “He’s far out,” she gushed, motioning toward Thomas with a mushy look on her face.

  Winnie shrugged deeper into her coat and ignored Claudia. She knew her roommate’s words were meant to make her uncomfortable, and she felt strange enough about being at the rally as it was. She glanced over her shoulder, worried that Roy would show up and be unhappy with her -- maybe even tell her parents that she was causing trouble.

  “Chill out, will you?” Claudia said. “Get your head into the game.”

  But Winnie couldn’t help it. She’d never picketed anything or openly been involved with a protest. She really was a square at heart.

  “I expect everyone here to behave themselves,” Thomas called out to the crowd. “We’re not in San Francisco, and we’re not here to burn draft cards.”

  A murmur passed through the crowd as they all considered the rally-turned-riot earlier that week in California. Over 500 students had stormed a federal building and more than 80 draft cards had been burned. The military police had been called in to break it up.

  “This is a peaceful rally to state our objection to the war, nothing more.” Thomas continued, “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Winnie’s stomach sank. What was she doing here? She didn’t like breaking the rules, and she wasn’t particularly augmentative. But she knew why she found herself in this situation. Thomas had really wanted her to come. Besides, it was a chance to do something with Claudia again, beside argue, that is.

  “Don’t be drawn into violence by the hecklers,” Thomas reminded the students.

  Winnie turned to Claudia, her eyes wide. “Hecklers?”

  Claudia laughed off Winnie’s concern. “You know, the students who don’t dig what we’re doing.”

  “What about ‘em?”

  “They yell stuff,” Claudia explained. “Sometimes they throw things.”

  Winnie’s face paled. “What do they throw?”

  “Okay, get your signs,” Thomas said, motioning for the students to follow him.

  Claudia rose, but Winnie didn’t move. Claudia grabbed her arm, pulling her to stand. “Come on!”

  Winnie kept close to Thomas, with Claudia on their heels. The students flowed onto the sidewalk in front of the student union building forming a line. Winnie expected everyone to sit, but instead, half the students, she and Thomas included, linked arms, forming a long chain that blocked access to the building. The other protesters marched in front of the line, pumping their signs up and down. Claudia’s sign said, “Get us out of Vietnam,” and another said, “Bring the troops home now!”

  Onlookers stopped to watch, some nodding, some frowning. Winnie’s heart pounded; she could feel the tension building. More students gathered to watch, the crowd now nearly filling all the open space.

  “Hey, cowards,” called one onlooker. “Too chicken to fight?”

  “Baby killer!” Someone shot back a reply.

&nbs
p; Winnie wanted to watch her back and keep her eyes on the moody crowd at the same time. Her palms sweated, and she swallowed hard. The whole thing reminded her of a crazy game of Red Rover gone wrong.

  “You’re doing fine,” Thomas assured her. “Everything is okay.”

  Voices rose in the darkness, and the shouts grew louder. In Winnie’s mind, the mass of surging bodies wasn’t accomplishing anything but a lot of confusion and anger. “Everybody’s getting upset,” she yelled to Thomas over the dim.

  “That’s the idea,” he yelled back. “To make people think, make them talk about it.”

  Someone in the crowd pushed forward, and a girl fell at Winnie’s feet. Winnie let go of Thomas to help her up, and when the girl stood, their eyes met, both filled with fear. Thomas grabbed the two of them and pushed them behind the line, then linked arms with the next student. “Make sure she’s okay!” he yelled to Winnie over his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Winnie asked the girl, who bent to look at her knee. Even in the darkness, Winnie could see that her knee was skinned and bleeding.

  “I— I think so,” the girl said, her voice shaking.

  Then Winnie heard the whine of a siren over the other noise, and police whistles pierced the din.

  The crowd shuffled to let the campus police through, and the protestors’ line buckled and broke, as the students fled. Claudia, however, pushed to the front of the group, shouting.

  “Hell no, we won’t go!” She chanted, her voice cracking under the strain and exhilaration. Other students joined in and the police whistles blared. The noise became unbearable. Confusion took over and bodies surged against one another. Thomas gathered Winnie and the injured girl into his arms and shielded them with his body, pushing them back to stand in the bushes. Then he blended into the crowd, calling for the protestors to be calm and to cooperate.

  The last glimpse of Claudia that Winnie caught through the crowd was her friend being dragged away by two police officers as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “Winnie,” Tara said. “Hey, are you okay?”

  The old woman blinked, dazed by the clarity of the memory.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Tara said. “I just can’t imagine you starting a riot.”