Stealing Taffy

by Susan Donovan

  “Well, hello, Fern!” The woman was wearing pink again. And the same pearls around her neck with the matching earrings. Fern had watched some of those stupid reruns where TV moms made beds and vacuumed in pearls, and she wondered if maybe Tanyalee Newberry was one of those women. She doubted it. More likely she paid someone else to do that crap for her.

  “Yo,” Fern said, lifting her chin. “I need to be back at Three-Gee’s at six thirty-two, on the dot.”

  Tanyalee pursed her lips in annoyance. Honestly, it was all Fern could do not to bust a gut every time she saw this lady. She was just too much fun to mess with.

  “Good afternoon, Tanyalee!” Tanyalee said this to herself, her voice all high and fakelike. She smiled at Fern. “Don’t you think that type of greeting would have been more appropriate than ‘yo’?”

  “Yo, yo.” Fern grabbed her backpack. “So what’re we doing today that’s gonna take three whole hours?”

  As they strolled together through the club parking lot toward the pink Cadillac, Tanyalee looked over at Fern with a snarky little smile. “You know, Fern, there’s a secret I’d like to share with you. Something that might help you as you mature and experience more of life’s challenges.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Honest to God, Fern was going to crack up laughing. “Then lay it on me, Mr. Miyagi. Wax on, wax off! Hee-yah!” She froze with her feet apart, arms bent in karate-chop position.

  “Ohmylordinheaven.” Tanyalee unlocked the car door and rolled her eyes. “What I wanted to share with you was that a person’s happiness isn’t determined by what happens to them, it’s how they react to what happens to them.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Tanyalee started the engine. “Because we can’t always choose the course of events in our lives. We can only choose how we will handle those events and what actions we will take.”

  Fern wanted to suck on the Cadillac’s exhaust pipe. “True dat.”

  “So what I’m getting at is you might want to focus your energy on making the most of your time with me instead of being pissed off about it.”

  “Gotcha.” Fern let her head loll back against the leather headrest.

  “It’s a lesson I didn’t learn until very recently. I wasted a lot of time trying to control other people and what they did. It backfired on me, let me tell you. But now I try every day to let go of things I can’t control and focus on myself—making myself a better person, taking responsibility for my actions.”

  “Yeah, so where did you say we’re headed?”

  Tanyalee sighed, obviously annoyed that her Oprah master class hadn’t captured Fern’s attention. “We’re stopping by Candy Carmichael’s bakery. It’s where I work now and I wanted to show it to you. She’s getting ready for the grand opening, and I figured you might be able to help out one of these days, maybe learn a little about entrepreneurship in the process.”

  Fern squeezed her eyes tight. “So you’re abducting me and forcing me to work without a salary? Child labor is illegal in the state of North Carolina.”

  Tanyalee’s head snapped around. “If you were my daughter—”

  “Well, I ain’t your damn daughter, am I? And you sure as hell ain’t my mother! So let’s just get this two hours and…”—Fern checked the dashboard clock—“fifty-six minutes over with. I promise to make the most of it if you promise to cut the crap and stop being such a stupid-ass Goody Two-shoes! Gawd!”

  Tanyalee gasped. Mercifully, she kept her eyes on the road and remained silent for the five minutes it took to arrive at the downtown location. Fern glanced at her mentor, who sat with posture so perfect it looked like her spine was made out of a steel rod. Tanyalee pulled into the back parking lot of an old brick building that had recently received a makeover.

  Fern started to get out of the car, when a hand grabbed her forearm.

  “Fern.”

  Tanyalee’s voice was soft, but even without turning around, it was obvious the lady was pissed but good. Fern pasted on a smile and whipped her head around. What she saw shocked the hell out of her—Tanyalee was about to freakin’ cry!

  “I want to be your friend,” Tanyalee said, her hand softening on Fern’s arm. “I don’t want to boss you around or make your life harder than it is. This is supposed to be fun.”

  Fern sure as hell didn’t want Tanyalee to start crying, so she softened. “Sure. Fun is cool.”

  “I’ve had my share of loss and disappointment, too. It can make you hard and mean if you let it. Please don’t let it.”

  Fern snatched her arm away and laughed. “Seriously? You’ve been disappointed? Like the Christmas you got rubies instead of diamonds? Is that what you’re talking about?”

  Tanyalee went perfectly still. Fern couldn’t even tell if she was still breathing, but it was clear she was alive because the veins of her neck were sticking out behind her little pearl necklace. Tanyalee’s shirt might have been pink, but her face was red as a stoplight. Right then, Fern worried she might have gone too far with her new mentor.

  “I expect you to apologize to me immediately.” Tanyalee’s words came out in a whisper, like she was so mad she was half out of breath and about ready to reach over and smack the shit out of her.

  “Okay. Sorry, I guess.”

  Tanyalee leaned in toward Fern and stared at her. Up close like this, Fern could see that Miss Goofberry had done something to make her eyes look bigger than they really were. She’d drawn a thick black line along her upper eyelid, and put on so much mascara that her lashes looked like woolly worms. Then she’d used several different colors of eye shadow, all of them kind of soft-looking grays and pinks. It was like an art project. She wondered if Tanyalee had taken classes to learn how to do that shit to her eyes, because, seriously, Fern would probably give it a try and end up poking herself and be blind for the rest of her life, and what good is having fancy, made-up eyes if you couldn’t see shit with them?

  “I get it, Fern. You don’t like me. You think I’m a spoiled rich girl and that we don’t have a single thing in common.”

  Fern leaned away. “Maybe.”

  Tanyalee smiled a little, and her face got softer looking. Even up close like this, she was TV-star beautiful. Fern had never known anyone as pretty as Tanyalee Newberry.

  “Well, I’ve got news for you, missy. You are dead wrong.”

  “I already told you—don’t call me ‘missy.’ It ain’t my name.”

  “Isn’t your name, you mean.”

  “That’s what I said. It ain’t my name.”

  Tanyalee laughed. “I’ll make a deal with you then, Miss Fern. I won’t call you ‘missy’ if you promise to speak to me respectfully. You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me all that much. But what I do require is that you be respectful, and I will do the same for you. How does that sound?”

  Fern shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Wonder-flippin-ful, then.” Tanyalee turned off the Cadillac’s ignition, tossed the keys in her purse, and opened her door. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  In silence, Fern followed Tanyalee up a set of back steps leading into the building. She wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation she’d just had with her mentor. In a way, Fern felt pissed that this snooty chick just put her in her place. In another way, it felt kind of good to know where Tanyalee’s limits were and what she expected. The only other time Fern had experienced that was with Gladys, and, as strange as it sounded, it sort of made her feel safe.

  Life with her daddy had always been loose and floppylike. They went day to day, week after week, sometimes moving around, sometimes staying put. Sometimes they had real food for dinner, like tacos, and other times it was just barbecue chips and SunnyD. But Fern had school most days, and her teachers always told her she was real smart even if her test scores showed she was a little behind. Unfortunately, being smart didn’t matter when Fern came home to a house without electricity—again—and a daddy who sometimes didn’t bother to come home for three days.

/>   Fern knew her daddy loved her. She knew he was doing the best he could, at least he was right up until he dragged her out here to Cataloochee County. Because that was when he stopped trying. He just sank into the stink of meth and got his brain damaged so bad that he forgot she was even there.

  They reached the top of the old concrete steps and stepped into a big kitchen full of long, shiny counters and oversized sinks and ovens. A very pretty woman with a bunch of blond curls greeted them and smiled down at Fern like she was happy to see her.

  “Well, hello! I’m Candy Carmichael. You must be Fern Bisbee. Very nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand and Fern shook it, a little in awe of this person. It felt downright weird being around pretty ladies with bright, perfect smiles and who smelled so fruity and clean and dressed so nice. She’d had some pretty teachers back in Raleigh, before her daddy made her stop going to school, and there were a couple in Bigler, too, but none of them were as pretty as Tanyalee and this Candy lady.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Carmichael,” Fern said, trying her best to smile.

  Candy laughed in surprise. “My goodness! It’s a pleasure to meet a young lady with such wonderful manners.”

  Fern shot a quick sideways glance toward her mentor, and had to keep herself from giggling. Tanyalee’s mouth was hanging open in shock.

  “Come on in.” Candy placed a soft hand on Fern’s shoulder. “I guess Tanyalee has told you about my new business?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, now, I should tell you that my husband is Sheriff Halliday and his assistant is Bitsy Stockslager, so I heard through Bitsy that you recently came to live with your great-grandmother.”

  “Oh.” Seriously, it seemed to Fern like you couldn’t pick your nose in Bigler without everyone knowing about it. This town was as small as a deer tick on a Chihuahua’s butt.

  Candy continued, her hand still on Fern’s shoulder. “We only have days until we open, and we’re putting the finishing touches on the customer areas, like the hallways, restrooms, dining room, and our Internet café. Plus I’m trying to get the business office organized. Would you like to help me with that? Do you know anything about computers?”

  Fern felt her eyes get big. She loved computers, but the last time she’d got to use one had been over a year ago, when she was still enrolled in school back in Raleigh. She hadn’t yet had a chance to work in the computer lab in her new school. “I know a little,” she said.

  “Do you think you could help me connect the printer and install some software tomorrow after school?”

  “Yes!”

  “I can’t pay you … except in cupcakes.”

  God, she completely loved this Candy Carmichael chick. Fern couldn’t remember the last time she’d really, truly smiled, but she couldn’t help it. She made sure the smile didn’t go on too long, though, since she didn’t want Miss Crazyberry getting any ideas. “I guess that would be okay,” Fern said, with a small shrug. “As long as it counts toward my mentor hours and all.”

  Tanyalee exhaled dramatically. “God forbid you should spend a few extra minutes learning something useful.”

  Before Fern knew it, she was shooed out the door and into the Cadillac convertible. “Where to now, Mr. Miyagi?”

  Tanyalee shook her head. “You can call me whatever you want, Fern. Doesn’t bother me in the least. But you’re going to be singing my praises by the end of the afternoon.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Fern clicked her seat belt and settled down into the comfortable leather. “Why? You gonna let me drive this pimpin’ ride?”

  “I will do no such thing. You’re only twelve!” Tanyalee started the car, checked her mirrors, then put on a pair of big, black sunglasses. Next, the woman did something that made Fern slink down into her seat from sheer embarrassment—she put a silky scarf over her head and tied it under her chin like she was Little Bo Peep or some damn thing. “I am taking you to the JC Penney’s in the Asheville Mall. We’re going shopping!”

  Fern glanced sideways at Tanyalee, daring to scoot up in the seat a little. “What for?”

  Tanyalee smiled at her, and for just a second, Fern wondered if she’d ever look anywhere near as glamorous as Tanyalee Newberry. With that scarf and glasses, she looked like she’d just popped right out of a magazine, or an episode of Mad Men, or maybe one of those old James Bond movies.

  “We are going shopping for you, Miss Bisbee. I am taking you for a head-to-toe makeover—underwear, shoes, clothes, and I made an appointment for you at the Hair Apparent!”

  Fern felt her eyes go huge, but for a moment she couldn’t say anything. No one had ever taken her clothes shopping at a mall, for shit’s sake! She was more accustomed to the Goodwill, where clothes were organized by color instead of size and everything smelled like it was as old as Three-Gee.

  Tanyalee pulled onto the highway and headed east, smiling and humming to herself. Fern didn’t get it. Why was this chick suddenly in such a good mood? It was either because she really loved being a mentor or she really loved shopping.

  Shopping. It had to be the shopping.

  * * *

  “What do you think?”

  Dante finished studying the digital images that had arrived in his e-mail in-box. It was obvious from the size, color, and maturity of the marijuana plants that the harvest on Possum Ridge would be a profitable one.

  “We need to make our move in three weeks.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” Kelly O’Connor made her way across the DEA field office to sit on the edge of Dante’s desk. “That would put us right at the end of the drying and curing process, right?”

  Dante nodded, then chuckled.

  “You find something amusing about the violation of Title Twenty-one of the United States Code?”

  O’Connor could be a piece of work sometimes.

  “No, ma’am. It’s these photos from the bureau’s new surveillance drones—they’re so good I think I just discovered which brand of toilet paper Gene Lewis Tillman prefers.”

  “Ha.” O’Connor began drumming her fingertips on the top of his desk. “I’ll update Sheriff Halliday. We’ll need one more task force meeting before we go in. Can you find a time everyone is available?”

  “Of course.”

  O’Connor looked off into the distance. Dante had observed his boss long enough to know she was stalling—about something.

  “What’s up, O’Connor?”

  “An old acquaintance of yours will be joining us for the bust.” She turned her piercing eyes on him, smiling. “Special Agent Westley Hinman. And he’ll be staying on if your transfer request goes through.”

  “Wes?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wait.” Dante tipped back in his desk chair, confused. It would be great to work with Wes again, but … “What transfer request? Division turned me down months ago.”

  “I convinced them to reconsider.”

  Dante’s brain buzzed. This was fantastic news! He’d planned on resubmitting his request but it was already taken care of. He should be thrilled that it was still a possibility. So why didn’t he feel thrilled? Why did his mind immediately go to Tanyalee?

  Dante dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut, giving himself a moment to snap out of it. There was no way he could let his attraction to Tanyalee change his career plans.

  Right?

  O’Connor laughed. “What? No happy dance? I thought for sure you’d be bustin’ a move right about now.”

  “No, no. It’s wonderful news.” Dante looked up, wishing O’Connor would get off his desk. Her proximity made him feel like he was about to be poked with a stick.

  “Holy crap, Cabrera! I thought you’d be thrilled!” She hopped off and headed over to her own desk, her heels clicking on the wood floors on the way. “At the very least I thought you’d ask me how I pulled it off.”

  Dante was game. “How did you pull it off?”

  She gave a prim little shrug. “I made Division an offer they couldn’t
refuse. I agreed to remain in Asheville for another two years.”

  Dante felt his mouth open. O’Connor had already done her time here, and she could have her pick of assignments. It was obvious that her request had nothing to do with work and everything to do with the man formerly known as Tater. “So you two are getting serious?”

  She scowled. “You two who?”

  “Come on, O’Connor.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Everyone knows about you and the lottery winner. Nobody can keep a secret around here.”

  Her lips pulled into a thin line. “I see. So it won’t surprise you that everyone knows about your relationship with the Newberry woman, then? A woman who happens to be on felony probation, I might add.”

  Dante nearly choked. “We’re not even dating. You make it sound like I’m going to marry her.”

  “I said nothing of the sort—but you just did.”

  Suddenly Dante saw what O’Connor was doing—she was making it easy for him to leave North Carolina before his connection to Tanyalee could become a potential problem for him. Strangely, his first instinct was to come to Tanyalee’s defense.

  Dante stood up behind his desk. “Tanyalee Marie Newberry received a suspended sentence for forging her grandfather’s signature on a loan application. It isn’t like she’s a DEA informant, boss. There’s no conflict of interest here.”

  “Hmm.” O’Connor crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure the administration would see it that way, Dante. Keeping company with a known criminal is against policy, and eventually you might find yourself facing consequences.”

  He remained silent as a rush of anger coursed through him. “Is that a friendly heads-up or an official warning from my supervisor?”

  “Ah hell, Dante.” O’Connor slumped in front of her computer and ran a hand through her straight, black hair. “I’m looking out for you. You are one hell of an agent and it’s a privilege to have you on my team, but you need to be smart.”