Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  “Want me to get her?” Blanche asked.

  Tara shook her head. “I hired you to run the Inn, not babysit. Thanks though.”

  Blanche smiled, unruffled by Tara’s refusal. “I do love little Bella, I really do,” she replied. “If you change your mind, just let me know.”

  “Thanks,” Tara mumbled as she headed to the living room. She leaned against the door frame, watching, enchanted by Bella, who tromped back and forth in front of the front door wearing a mismatched pair of Blanche’s pumps.

  “Pretty shoes,” Bella said with grin.

  Tara had to agree, but her thoughts shifted back to the problem at hand. “Where was Justin going? What was he doing?” And how would she ever find out? Following him had been a bust -- what else could she do? Then it hit her, his office! She could poke around his office and see where he’d been sneaking off to.

  “Come on, baby,” she said, lifting Bella right out of the shoes. “Let’s go get dressed.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Tara pushed open the door to Justin’s office with Bella on her hip, looking windblown and flustered.

  Justin’s secretary, Cindy, looked up and grinned, and then stood and came around her desk with her arms open to Bella. “Hello, Tara! Come give me a kiss sweetie-pie,” she crooned to the little girl. Once Cindy had thoroughly loved Bella, she set the child down to run to the toybox. Cindy then gave Tara her full attention. “I’m sorry, Justin isn’t here. What can I do for you ladies?”

  As per her plan, Tara waved off the woman and headed across the lobby. “I know he’s out on site this morning; I just need something off his desk.” She said nonchalantly as she stalked past the secretary and into her husband’s office. Much to her chagrin, Cindy followed.

  “Could I help you find anything?” the receptionist asked. “I straightened his desk this morning, did I put away something you needed?”

  Tara paid her no mind. Unsure where to begin, she glanced across the top of his desk. It was uncharacteristically clean; Cindy had done a good job. Damn her.

  She’d hoped to walk in and immediately see some glaring paperwork or blueprints, showing Justin’s secret dealings.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Cindy tried again, motioning out the door.

  “No, I’m fine,” Tara mumbled, opening a desk drawer, then closing it to pull open another.

  Bella wandered in with a doll in one arm and stuffed bear under the other, but Tara didn’t notice. She was on a mission. Leaving the desk, she stood at Justin’s bulletin board with her hands on her hips, scouring each and every note and paper, looking for clues as to where her husband was spending all his time.

  Cindy watched her boss’s wife with interest. “Are you sure I can’t help you find something?”

  “I’m sure,” Tara answered, returning to the desk. She scowled down at the desk calendar, reading names and times for appointments. Nothing.

  Bella tugged on her pantleg. “Cracker, mommy.”

  Engrossed in her search, Tara picked up Justin’s notepad and flipped through the pages, hoping to see a scribble with a name or phone number.

  Cindy came to her side again, “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

  Unease rose in Tara’s gut. Cindy was getting suspicious that she was just full-on snooping.

  The door to the main office opened and Tara froze.

  “Cindy?” Justin called out. “Is my wife here? Her car is out front.”

  Tara panicked. She grabbed Bella and dove under Justin’s desk. Cindy didn’t move, so Tara gave the woman’s skirt a solid yank, pulling her down to join them under the large desk.

  “What are we doing?” Cindy whispered.

  “Shhhhh,” Tara shushed.

  “Daddy!” Bella shouted, wriggling hard to escape from Tara’s grasp. To Tara’s horror, the baby wiggled out of her arms and ran around the desk.

  “Baby Bella!” Justin greeted his daughter at his office door. “Did you come to see me?” He swung the little girl up into his arms for a hug and kiss.

  “Doll,” the little girl said solemnly, holding out her toy to show her father.

  “That’s a pretty dolly,” he said, his eyes searching his office. He glanced back over his shoulder to the deserted workplace. “Cindy? Tara?” he called again.

  Cindy popped up from behind his desk, brushing at her skirt, nearly frightening Justin into dropping Bella.

  “Oh, Cindy!” He gasped. “What were you doing under my desk?”

  Before the poor woman could answer, Tara popped up by her side. “Hi honey,” she said casually, running her fingers through her mussed hair, as if she and the secretary always sat under his desk.

  “What’s going on?” Justin demanded, taking in first his wife and then his employee.

  Cindy gave Tara the side eye. “We were…”

  Tara shouldered in front of the poor woman. “Looking for my earring,” she interrupted.

  Justin cocked one eyebrow, knowing full well that was a lie.

  “Anyway,” Tara rushed to continue, “I found it, so we can be on our way.” She reached for the baby. “Come on, Bella, let’s go.”

  Justin handed over the toddler and watched with amusement as Tara marched past Cindy’s desk and out the front door. His gaze came back to his secretary. But Cindy had known Tara for years, so she just shrugged off her boss’s questions and went back to work.

  * * *

  The television in Winnie’s bedroom flickered in the dim light, where she sat propped up in bed, with her bifocals balanced on the end of her nose and a crossword book forgotten on her lap. The 10:00 news showed clips of a bombing, with smoke, debris, and bloody people running and screaming. The flashing screen drew her back to a night long ago, where she’d curled up on a sofa with Thomas watching a similar scene. But instead of a street fight in the arid middle east, this story was fresh from the battlefield of Vietnam.

  Winnie watched in horror as a young soldier on a stretcher was put into a waiting helicopter, with the rotors of the chopper violently flapping the men’s clothing. The lower half of the agonized soldier’s leg was missing, leaving nothing but a bloody, bandaged stub.

  She buried her face in Thomas’s shoulder.

  “It’s unbearable to keep watching this, day after day, week after week, month after month,” he sighed, patting her head. “I feel so bad knowing that I couldn’t go help, even if I wanted to.”

  Her head came up. “Don’t say that! I don’t want you to go to over there. Ever!”

  “Wynona,” he admonished. “You know as well as I do that if it weren’t for my asthma, I’d likely be over there now.”

  She didn’t say anything, just clutched his arm, keeping him close, as if he’d be pulled away to war like all those poor men on the television.

  “I feel like I cheated or something,” He lamented, watching as more gory scenes of the war played across the oval screen. “When I organize a rally, I see the looks the hecklers give me, the faces of the men who think I’m a coward. I hate it.”

  “You’re trying to save them! Besides, what could you do over there that all those soldiers aren’t already doing?”

  “I don’t know. I just…”

  “It feels hopeless, doesn’t it,” she fretted, wondering where and how it would ever end. The government was sure they were doing the right thing, while so many men, the men of her generation, were dying in droves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Winnie huffed up the steps to the spa. “What on earth,” she wondered out loud as she glanced at the cars filling the parking lot. Tara had called and insisted that she come over here immediately, and right as she was preparing a roast for the oven too. That girl had the timing of a broken watch.

  She pushed open the front door to see the women from town sitting around the spa, obviously halfway through some kind of treatment or another. Julia’s face was covered in a green gooey mask, and Lizzie was giving Katie, from the glamping park, a
pedicure.

  “Hi, Winnie!” the group called out in welcome.

  Tara motioned Gloria to stay seated behind her desk and hobbled to Winnie’s side. Her bare toes were stuffed between with cotton and her bright pink toenails were still damp. “You’re just in time!” She said to Winnie with overemphatic happiness as she took her arm.

  “For what?” the old woman demanded, digging in her heels to keep from being dragged across the room.

  “Well,” Tara began, as if she were explaining something to a dim-witted child, “it’s a surprise. Some of us are getting makeovers, and we thought you’d like one too!”

  Winnie’s head jerked back in shock. “A makeover? You said it was an emergency. Since when have I ever wanted a makeover?”

  Tara ignored the old woman’s protest and continued. “Since you spend so much time taking care of everyone else, we thought it would be nice to do something for you!”

  Feeling trapped, Winnie glanced at the eager, smiling faces surrounding her, some covered with goo and others with bits of tin foil and paste in their hair. It almost looked like she’d walked into the circus, more so than a spa. But these were her friends; it would be rude to refuse a gift.

  “Well…” she hedged, still wondering if she could find a way out of her predicament.

  Lizzie joined Tara, each taking one of Winnie’s arms, and led her to a pump style haircut chair that had been set up by the nail cart.

  “This is Valerie,” Lizzie explained, “She came over from Uniontown to cut and dye hair.”

  Winnie nodded a greeting and fingered the hair over her ear nervously.

  Tara continued, “Sit down, let Valerie work her magic.” With that, she practically pushed Winnie into the chair.

  Winnie tried to get up, wanting nothing to do with a cut or dye job, but Tara and Lizzie had a hand on each of her shoulders. She looked up at the girls, alarmed. “But— but what if I don’t want a haircut?”

  Tara plopped her hands on her hips. “How long have you had that hairdo?” she demanded.

  Wounded, Winnie stuttered for an answer.

  “Thirty years?” Tara accused. “I’ve certainly never seen you with anything else.”

  “You don’t need to be rude,” Winnie huffed, offended to the core of her feminine heart. Did she really look so horrible and outdated?

  “Oh, honey,” Lizzie countered, kneeling at Winnie’s feet. “You’re beautiful, always have been.” She assured the old woman. “This is about pampering you, not changing you.” She tossed a glare up at Tara.

  Winnie sniffed and straightened her shoulders, and a ripple of apology ran through the group of onlookers.

  “Right,” Tara added, crestfallen. “Sorry.”

  “I’m okay,” assured Winnie, blinking back tears.

  “Would you like to get your nails done?” Lizzie asked. The others nodded, hopeful Winnie would agree to stay.

  * * *

  As she sat with her hand in Lizzie’s, watching the woman work on her nails, Winnie had to admit that it had been a long time since she’d had a spa treatment. And it was true, she’d worn her hair in the same tight bun for a very long time. At first she hadn’t wanted to deal with going out to get it cut, then it had just become part of her grandmotherly persona. Should she change it now? Homecoming was quickly approaching, and she’d be seeing folks she hadn’t seen for years. Then again, most of them had seen her, a least a few times, in the last few years. They knew what she looked like.

  The letter came to mind and she sighed. She supposed she should make some kind of attempt to be at her best to greet a long-lost friend. But she was a creature of habit. She’d been perfectly comfortable with herself as she was. Until that damn letter came anyway. Now she seemed to be a mish-mash of memories. This was exactly why she’d kept a lid on her past. It was all just too complicated to sort out. She’d almost forgotten that at one time she’d been so eager to learn, so open to new ideas. So willing to love. Tragedy had completely broken her spirit. Well, maybe not completely broken her -- she was still here after all. But it had taken Tara‘s craziness and sweet wild ways to bring her around. How did young Wynona, and the sad recluse that Wynona had become, and the Winnie she was now, all fit together?

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like Valerie to at least give you a wash and style?” Tara sked, hopefulness clear in her question.

  Winnie sighed, thinking she must look pretty bad for Tara to be so insistent. The girl didn’t have a mean bone in her body. If she were pushy, it was because she felt it was necessary. “I— I guess that wouldn’t hurt anything, would it,” she relented.

  * * *

  Tara stood at the window, watching Justin stride across the lawn toward the Inn. He didn’t look upset, but she knew he’d want an answer for her strange behavior earlier that day. What a debacle that whole effort had been. She’d found nothing to give her any indication why he didn’t have any time for her, and she’d looked like a fool. Until lately, it had been a while since she looked so silly. Then again, she’d been so busy managing everyday life that she hadn’t had any time to look ridiculous.

  She turned away from the window with a sigh. She should just nip this whole stupid thing in the bud and confront him; she shouldn’t let him walk away until he explained himself.

  She bit her bottom lip. What if his answer wasn’t something she wanted to hear? What if there was another woman? Worse than that, what if he’d just lost interest in her all together, for no reason? What if he was sick of her goofiness and her issues? What if he was leaving her to start a whole new life somewhere— somewhere with less craziness and stress? What if he’d want custody of Bella?!

  In a full-blown panic, she hurried to the kitchen where Blanche was busy cooking dinner.

  “Blanche,” she blurted, startling the poor woman. “Would you keep an ear out for Bella, she’s sleeping. I need to be outside for a few minutes.”

  The older woman grinned. “Oh course, my dear.”

  “Thanks,” Tara muttered as she hurried from the room. She couldn’t take this one more minute. She had to confront Justin. There was absolutely no way she was giving up Bella, and she didn’t want their conversation overheard. In a panic, she jerked open the front door and ran directly into Justin’s chest.

  “Whoa there,” he laughed, holding her out at arm’s length, “Where are you headed in such a rush?”

  Tara tossed a nervous glance over her shoulder, grabbed Justin by the arm, and dragged him back out onto the porch. “We have to talk!” she hissed.

  Justin’s expression turned wary. “Okay… Is everything all right?”

  Tara didn’t answer, just closed the front door, took hold of Justin’s sleeve, and headed for the barn theater. It was the one place she felt that they could talk in private.

  Justin frowned and followed his wife but pulled his sleeve from her grip.

  When they reached the theater, Tara stopped at the top riser and turned to Justin, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He knew her battle stance, and he braced himself.

  “Well?” she demanded, tapping her foot impatiently.

  His eyebrows rose in question. “Well, what?”

  “You’re not getting custody of Bella and that’s final.” She vowed, her jaw set.

  Justin shook his head in confusion. “Custody? What are you talking about?”

  What neither Justin nor Tara saw was Lizzie, Julia, and Gloria, who’d been standing in the eatery at the top of the theater talking about wedding plans. The three ladies froze in place, surprised to find their friends in a heated discussion. Not wanting to interrupt, they stepped back into the shadows.

  Tara continued, flinging out one hand as she spoke. “Don’t play stupid with me. I know you’re going to leave me.”

  Lizzie gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. Julia and Gloria exchanged a concerned glance.

  “Did you know about this?” Julia whispered.

  Both Lizzie and Gloria shook their heads
.

  Justin’s hands came up in a don’t shoot stance. “Leave you? Have you lost your mind?”

  Julia leaned toward Lizzie, her hand up to shield her words. “Should we say something to let them know we’re here?”

  “Shhhh,” Lizzie shushed her. “I want to hear this.”

  Gloria and Julia gave each other a concerned look, but all three leaned forward with their ears perked.

  As Justin’s words sank in, Tara was confused. “Well, you certainly haven’t been very interested in me lately.”

  Justin’s expression relaxed. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve been busy with work, and you decide I’m leaving you?”

  She didn’t answer, just chewed on her lip and stared across the empty theater.

  “Oh, Tara,” Justin chuckled. “You silly girl.”

  Lizzie, Gloria, and Julia let out a collective sigh and exchanged relieved looks.

  “Don’t you know I’m crazy about you?” he continued, his face softening, betraying his true feelings. “You make my life…” he searched for the right word.

  Her eyes came up to his, her expression guarded but hopeful.

  “You make my life infinitely interesting!” he finally declared with a smile.

  Tara’s shoulders slumped. Not exactly the words she’d hoped to hear. She didn’t fulfill him or complete him; instead, she was entertainment.

  “What? Why the sad face?” He asked, moving toward her.

  She took a step back, her feelings hurt.

  The three friends in the shadows inched forward wanting to see what would happen next.

  “I feel guilty watching this,” Julia whispered. But the other two shushed her, their attention rapt on their boss.

  Unsure how to comfort Tara, Justin watched her for some clue. Knowing she was prickly when she was hurt, he inched toward her and reached out one hand to take hers. Slowly and carefully, he drew her toward him until she was cradled in his arms. “Oh, Tara,” he murmured. “How would I ever live without you?” He soothed his hand over her hair. “Bella is going to be just like you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”