Winnie frowned and dabbed at her eyes, then cleared her throat. “It— it was called a rally. No one purposely started a riot.” But she knew that in those volatile times, riots were commonplace, and no one was sure how they got out of control.
“What was it like?” Tara asked.
But Winnie didn’t know where to start. “There were rallies everywhere back then, even more so at some universities.”
“Why?”
Winnie scoffed. “Because boys were dying by the thousands. Because black students were beaten to death on a regular basis. That’s why!”
Tara’s mouth fell open, shocked by Winnie’s vehemence. “I’m sorry, I—I, I didn’t—”
Winnie continued. “Things got completely out of control. At South Carolina State, police opened fire on students protesting segregation at a bowling alley. Three protesters died and 27 more were wounded.”
“But,” Tara sputtered, horrified. “I thought segregation was illegal then.”
Winnie shook her head. “Changing laws didn’t change people. Nine officers were tried for killing those kids, and they were all acquitted of using excessive force.”
Tara thought of current headlines and realized that some things were slow to change.
“I’m sorry,” Winnie lamented, “It’s hard for me to talk about. I had friends on both sides, you know.”
“Sides? What sides?” Tara asked.
Winnie sniffed, knowing she could never make Tara understand the depth of emotion behind those days. “Claudia, she was a free spirit, a flower child at heart.”
Tara nodded, her eyes wide.
“Roy, her brother, he was an ROTC cadet.”
“Oh, yikes,” Tara gasped.
“And Thomas,” Winnie whispered, her words emotional. “Thomas was so much against the war.”
Tara fell silent. This was the first time she’d ever heard Winnie speak her long-dead husband’s name out loud.
* * *
Tara and Bella stood on the sidewalk, watching as Winnie climbed into her old station wagon and drove away. Feeling forlorn over the topic of discussion, understanding for the first time how Winnie must have felt, she was even more sad than when she’d left home. In no hurry to get back to the house, she hoisted Bella onto one hip and headed toward the boutique. It had been almost a week since she’d stopped in, and it was high time she checked on things. Being at the boutique always made her feel better. She didn’t usually take Bella with her, though. The child was like a bull in a china shop more often than not.
Bells jangled happily over the door as they entered the store, and Tara’s trained eye skimmed over the wide selection of reworked furniture and unusual but crafty bric-a-brac.
“Well, hello!” Becky called out from behind the counter. “To what do I owe this lovely surprise?” She left her jewelry making to come around the counter, her arms extended to Bella. “Come to Becky, you lovely child!” She sang out, her colorful jewelry jingling as she walked.
“Hi Becky,” Tara said, handing over the baby. “How’s business?”
“Booming,” Becky said, all grins as Bella touched one fingertip to her dangling earring. “We had a whole group from Uniontown come in this morning.”
“Oh?” Tara asked, knowing she had no concerns over how the boutique was actually running. Becky handled the store like a pro. She knew everyone in a sixty-mile radius and far more about those folks’ activities and personal lives than they knew themselves.
Becky took her reading glasses hanging from a shining string of beads around her neck and carefully put them on Bella. The little girl grinned widely and blinked blindly through the spectacles. “You look a bit lost,” Becky said, tossing Tara a concerned glance.
“Blanche started at the Inn today.”
“Ahhhhh,” Becky empathized.
“Cookie, pwease!” Bella chanted bouncing in Becky’s arms. The glasses fell back to hang from the chain.
“Of course, my darling,” Becky replied, setting Bella on her feet and taking her hand to lead her around the counter. “What color cookie would you like?”
“Want red!” Bella shouted, drawn into Becky’s enthusiasm.
Tara frowned, knowing the baby would need a bath after eating one of Becky’s cookies. But then she remembered she really had nothing better to do than run a bubble bath for Bella, and her shoulders relaxed. “What did the group from Uniontown want?” she asked, fingering the latest batch of handmade jewelry hanging from a rack on the counter.
Becky handed Bella a frosted cookie and plopped her little diaper-clad butt up on the office chair, then pulled it away from the desk. She’d seen Bella eat plenty of times, and she knew to keep everything of value, out of reach. “It was a group of women from a church group. They’re helping the local women’s shelter redecorate and update.”
Tara’s gaze came up. “Really?”
Becky nodded, and her huge gray bun nodded with her.
In her mind’s eye, Tara could see multiple pieces of furniture in her warehouse that would be perfect for the project. “Did you give them my number?”
Becky laughed. “Of course, I did!”
With renewed energy, Tara came around the counter and dug for a pencil. Becky pulled one from behind her ear and handed it to her boss. As usual, Tara scrunched her nose in disgust. “Must you do that?”
“I never lose it,” Becky answered, unperturbed.
Tara returned her attention to the counter and rifled through a notebook for a clean page. “Tell me more about the shelter…”
Chapter Eleven
That evening, Winnie sat alone at her dining table in her big Victorian house. On her plate remained the last forgotten bits of her dinner, but as usual, her mind was elsewhere. All day long, memories of Thomas’s rally returned to distract her, sometimes repeating one small bit like a broken record, other times running as if in slow motion or fast forward. Some of it came back in flashes like shards of glass, while other bits sat still and solemn, like a photograph to be inspected. But no matter how she looked at it, none of it made any more sense than it had that night. She had followed Thomas and Claudia and their efforts to make a change for the better, and it had gotten them all in trouble. Sadly, that night hadn’t been the end of it -- only the beginning.
Roy had practically banged her door down the next morning, calling to her to wake up and talk to him. Not that she’d slept much.
Thomas had walked her home the night before and made sure she was okay before he left. Or as okay as anyone could be when their best friend was in jail.
“Wynona!” Roy yelled as he beat on the door, “Wynona, answer this door right now!”
Winnie bolted up in bed, her hair mussed and her eyes bloodshot from crying. It all came back -- the rioting the shouting, running through the darkness to Thomas’ office, where they’d huddled for an hour, waiting for the riot to dissipate. Claudia had been arrested, but Thomas had assured Winnie that she was safe and nothing could be done for her friend until morning.
In a daze, Winnie staggered across the room to unhook the latch, still wearing the rumpled and stained dress from the day before.
Roy burst into the room. “What on earth were you thinking?!” he bellowed into her face.
Winnie held her aching head. “Don’t yell at me.”
“How could you do this to your best friend?” He demanded again, scowling down at her.
Now she was mad. Her chin came up. “Don’t yell at me,” she fumed, her eyes snapping. “It wasn’t my idea to go to the damn rally.”
“No, I’m sure it was your ridiculous boyfriend’s idea, wasn’t it!”
That took Winnie down a peg or two. Yes, Thomas had organized the rally, but he hadn’t insisted that either she or Claudia attend, and he wasn’t ridiculous! She turned away to sit on the edge of the bed, needing a moment to think.
“Here I am, like an idiot, thinking you’re going to help Claudia, and you went and got her arrested!” Roy hollered, his hands
motioning as he paced the length of the small room and back.
“I didn’t do anything to Claudia! She was going to the rally whether I went or not.”
Her words caught Roy off guard and he stopped pacing. His shoulders slumped.
“I was trying to keep my eye on her,” Winnie confessed, her gaze falling to the floor and her voice small. “Obviously, I failed.”
Roy dropped to sit on the end of his sister’s bed. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. But why are you here, and she’s in jail?”
Winnie’s back stiffened. “Because when the rest of us backed away, Claudia—” She hesitated, not wanting to make Roy even more upset about his sister’s behavior.
His lip curled. He knew that Claudia would run directly into the mess, most likely screaming her head off.
“How did you hear about it anyway?” Winnie asked.
He scoffed. “Oh, she’s the talk of the dorm this morning. No chance I could miss the news. ‘Hey Roy, when are you gonna go bail your crazy, hippy, sister out?’” he mocked.
Winnie winced. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to go with me,” he said, “to bail her out.”
Horrified, Winnie jumped to her feet. “I can’t— why, I never—” Her eyes darted around the room as if it were her own prison cell. “I don’t know how to bail someone out!”
He tossed his hands in the air. “And I do?”
“I suppose not,” she relented. “Did they call your parents?”
He sighed and scrubbed one hand across his crew cut. “No, she’s over 21, so she got one phone call. She called my dorm and left a message.”
Winnie contemplated his words. “Well— why do you want me to go? I’m no help.”
His bearing wilted and his words were flat. “Because I don’t think she’ll come with me.”
Sadness overwhelmed her, and she dropped onto the bed. “Is it that bad between you two?”
He offered a combination nod and shrug, evidently not sure of where he stood with his sister.
She sighed. “Okay, let me get dressed and we’ll go.”
* * *
Winnie tossed a nervous glance at Claudia in the back seat of Roy’s car. She sat with her arms crossed, frowning at the floor of the car. The poor girl looked like she’d been through an ordeal. Her long hair was ratted and tangled, and smudges of dirt were still obvious on her clothes. Her coat had a long tear in one armpit, and her face was tear streaked and grimy.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get any sleep,” Winnie offered.
Roy scoffed, tossing his sister a look in the rearview mirror.
Claudia ignored them both.
“Are you hungry?” Winnie asked.
Claudia sniffed and turned her head away.
When they reached the dorm, the girls climbed from the car, and Claudia marched toward the building without so much as a “thanks” to her brother.
Winnie hurried after her friend. “I’ll talk to you later,” she called to Roy over her shoulder.
He stood by the car, glaring at them.
By the time Winnie got to the room, Claudia was busy gathering her things to shower.
Winnie closed the door and crossed her arms, watching her roommate.
With her towel, soaps, and clean clothes, Claudia tried to pass, but Winnie refused to move.
“Do you have any idea what we had to go through to get you out?” Winnie demanded.
Claudia’s eyes sparked. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” she spat. “They badgered me most of the night trying to get me to tell them who organized the rally!”
Winnie deflated. “Did you?”
“Of course not!” Claudia cried.
“Well, that has nothing to do with Roy,” Winnie countered. “He was worried sick about you. He had to sign papers and pay money on a bail bond. It took us hours, and he missed all his morning classes. He has a final coming up, you know.”
Beyond mad now, Claudia sputtered with outrage. “Well, pardon the hell out of me for not wanting him and all his friends to die!” She shouted, pushing Winnie out of her way.
Watching her friend stomp down the hall, tears came to Winnie’s eyes. How could two siblings be different? Where would it end? Would they ever be able to sit around a table at Thanksgiving and not have bad feelings resurface? She knew neither of them were likely to give in. Roy was a straight arrow, faithful and true. Claudia was a dreamer and a lover, a fighter.
Winnie could see both sides, and it was tearing her in two.
* * *
Tara sat in bed leaned against her pillow, flipping through home decor magazines, waiting for Justin to get home. The house was quiet. Blanche had gone to her room hours ago, and Bella was sleeping peacefully in her little room. Tara picked up her phone and checked the time. It was nearly 10:00; how could Justin still be working? He’d mentioned an extra, last-minute project that he and Elliot had taken on, and he’d said it had a tight deadline, but this was ridiculous.
The rumble of his truck pulling in the drive was a relief, and she climbed from the bed to meet him downstairs. It still felt weird to walk through her house in her pajamas, knowing that Blanche was in the house. But that was silly, because there were Inn guests there too.
No, guests were different. They tended to stay in their rooms after dark; Blanche could be up planning menus, checking on laundry, or any number of things.
She padded through the TV room, keeping an eye out, then headed down the stairs. At the landing she nearly collided with Blanche, who was carrying an armload of sheets.
“Oh my! I’m so sorry, dear, I really am!” The older woman apologized as she scrambled to catch the leaning pile of bed linen in her arms.
“No, I’m sorry,” Tara said, catching the top two sheets before they hit the floor. “I was sneaking around. It’s my fault. I heard Justin pull in and—"
The women heard Justin turn the deadbolt on the front door. Tara offered Blanche a quick grin, then headed down to the living room.
Blanche followed.
Justin kicked off his shoes next to the pile of Blanche’s discarded pumps and headed across the moonlit room. When he saw Tara and Blanche, he jumped with his hand on his chest. “Oh geez, you scared me half to death,” he gasped.
Tara’s brow arched and her fist came up to rest on her hip. “You’re late.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It couldn’t be helped.”
Blanche realized she was interrupting, so she offered Justin a flirty wink and headed back up the steps.
“What were you doing?” Tara continued, undeterred.
Justin did a double take at Blanche’s back, then sighed and motioned for Tara to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and stood staring at the contents. “Elliot and I were doing a walk-through.”
She flipped on the light and joined him at the fridge. “Of what?” she asked, reaching past him to get the covered dinner plate he couldn’t seem to find.
He watched as she popped the plate into the microwave and hit the minute button. “The new project.”
She leaned her hip against the counter. “Where is it?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. “The other side of town.”
“That’s all pretty vague,” She replied, knowing he did that to his hair when he was frustrated. Was he on edge because he didn’t like being questioned or because he was uncomfortable with the topic in general?
He shrugged, averting his gaze.
Now she was on edge.
The microwave dinged, and she retrieved the plate. Justin settled into a chair at the table and Tara got him a fork, then pulled out the chair next to him.
He watched as she adjusted the chair, making herself comfortable. “Are you just gonna sit there and stare at me while I eat?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He grunted, as if to say “Fine, whatever,” and dug into his food.
“Blanche st
arted today,” Tara said, breaking the tension. “That felt pretty weird.”
“I bet,” he mumbled past his mouthful.
She waited for him to say something more, but he was too busy shoveling food into his mouth, like he hadn’t eaten for days.
“The guests like her,” she finally continued.
He stopped chewing and his eyes met hers. “Huh? They like who?” he asked around a mouthful.
“Blanche,” she snapped. “The guests like Blanche, you know, the Inn manager?”
“Oh right,” he said with a nod, then shoveled another bite into his mouth.
Again, Tara waited for him to respond, to acknowledge that the day had been a turning point for their family business. But Justin seemed lost in thoughts of his own.
“Bella said a whole sentence,” she tried again, thinking maybe his daughter would get his attention.
“That’s nice,” he mumbled around his fork.
“She said she’s planning to attend Harvard instead of pre-k.”
He loaded up his fork. “Oh yeah?”
“Where are you!” Tara barked, shocking him into dropping his fork. Food spattered across the table.
He glared at her, with unchewed food puffing out one cheek.
“I’ve waited all day to talk to you—” she seethed, waving one hand, “—about what is happening around here, and when you finally get home, you don’t even care!”
He swallowed hard. “Of course, I care.”
“Well you have a funny way of showing it.”
He sighed and looked at the mess on the table. Finally, he looked up. “I apologize. You’re right, I was still thinking about the project.” Then his eyes lit up. “Did you say Bella said a sentence? What did she say?”
He may have missed the part about the Inn and her feelings about it, but at least Bella sparked some interest. “She was demanding a cracker at the café and I asked her to wait for the food to come, and she said, ‘I can’t want to’.”
He grinned. “She can’t want to? That is so cute. Sounds like her, doesn’t it?” Then his face fell. “Makes me sad I didn’t get to see her tonight.”
Hometown Series Box Set Page 132
