Heart of Gold

by Beverly Jenkins

  When Cassidy Sullivan walked into baggage claim, everyone stopped and stared. She was thin, of average height, and decked out in black leather pants, a black vest over a green silk blouse, and knee-high black leather boots accented with silver buckles. Her jet black hair was short and cut close to her pretty face, with emerald green highlights that matched her eyes.

  Zoey whispered, “Wow!”

  “Wow is right,” Roni echoed.

  Cassidy had a confident, breezy stride, and when she spotted Roni, her smile lit up the room. “Ms. Moore?”

  “Call me Roni.”

  “Thanks. Call me Cass.” Her voice was pure Ireland.

  “Welcome to Kansas.”

  “I’m so honored to meet you.” She glanced down at the staring Zoey and asked, “And who might you be, a fairy princess?”

  Looking dazzled, Zoey blinked. “Um, no. I’m Zoey Raymond Garland.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Lady Zoey. I’m Cassidy Grace Sullivan. All that dark hair and dark eyes, you could be one of my nieces. You wouldn’t happen to be Irish, now, would you?”

  “Um, no. I don’t think so. I love the way you talk. You’re so awesome.”

  “No, I’m just Cass. How’d you hurt your arm?”

  “Crashed my bike.”

  “Can I sign the cast later?”

  “Yeah!”

  Roni chuckled. “Cass, do you have luggage?”

  “A lot, I’m afraid. When your brother’s a rocker and your mum’s an old-school rocker too, you travel with a ton of stuff, even if it’s only for a few days. Genetic, I think.”

  “Your mom’s a rocker?” Zoey asked.

  “Yep. Way before your time, though. She was lead guitarist for a group called Emerald Isle.”

  Roni said, “I know that name. They were a force back in the day.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Mum’s a huge fan of yours too, and she sends her regards.”

  “I’m flattered. Be nice if I could thank her in person sometime soon. Let’s get your bags.”

  Zoey continued to stare as if frozen in place.

  “Zoey, you coming?” Roni asked.

  She shook herself loose. “Yeah.”

  On the drive away from the airport, Zoey was glad to be riding in the back seat because she couldn’t stop staring at Cassidy Sullivan. She loved her clothes and her hair, the black paint on her short manicured nails, and especially the Irish accent. She wondered how long it would take her to learn to speak that way. She knew she was being a geek but couldn’t help herself. She’d never met anyone like her before, and in that moment, Danica Patrick dropped down a notch on Zoey’s fan-girl crush poll because Cassidy Sullivan ruled.

  Cassidy turned in her seat and asked, “So what do you like to do, Lady Zoey?”

  “Work on cars and play music.”

  “Work on cars, really?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re a musician, too. That’s pretty fabulous. Do you play an instrument, or do you sing?”

  “Both. I play piano.”

  “I play piano, too, but I can’t sing a note. I play guitar, though—bass, not lead like me brother and mum.”

  Zoey asked, “What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Conor. His stage name is Conor Dublin. His band’s called Balor.”

  Her mom piped up. “I know that name, too. They’ve won all types of Grammys.”

  “Almost as many as you,” Cassidy countered.

  “Can you teach me to play guitar?” Zoey asked.

  “Zoey,” her mom warned. “We don’t want to impose.”

  Cass said, “No, it’s quite all right. As long as it’s okay with your mum, sure.”

  “No problem here then.”

  “Great!”

  Cass’s next question was for Roni. “So what hotel do you recommend?”

  “There aren’t any. While you’re here, you’ll be our guest at Chez Garland.”

  “I can’t stay at your home. That wouldn’t be right.”

  “Your only other option is outside in a field somewhere, maybe.” Roni laughed. “Henry Adams is a really tiny place. Wonderful, but tiny.”

  “You sure you I won’t be putting you out?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then thank you.”

  For the rest of the ride, while her mom and Cassidy talked and laughed, Zoey sat in the back and fantasized about wearing black leather, playing bass guitar, and speaking with an Irish accent.

  After they got home, Cassidy was shown into the guest room, and then they went to have dinner at the Dog. Like all new visitors, Cassidy was struck by the diner’s odd name.

  Roni replied, “Alcohol was involved.”

  “Ahh. No other explanation needed.”

  The place was rocking, as always. “Lady Marmalade” by Labelle was blasting on the box, but when Roni and Zoey stepped in with their guest, everything came to a halt. Well, except Siz, who was so overcome by Cassidy that he walked into the wall beside the kitchen doors. While Mal hurried over to check on him, someone turned the music down, and Roni made the introductions. “Everybody, this is Cassidy Sullivan. She’s my new producer.”

  She was given a rousing welcome, and Amari called out, “Will you marry me?”

  Laughter.

  Cassidy told Roni, “I like your tiny town.”

  “Come on, let’s find a seat.”

  The volume on the music was turned back up, and Rocky came over to the table to take their orders.

  “Ms. Sullivan, you have no idea how glad I am to have you here,” Rocky said.

  Cass looked puzzled.

  “It’s been lonely being the only woman with the power to make men walk into walls.” Cassidy roared.

  After returning from the Dog, Zoey went up to her room to do her homework, and Roni and Cassidy relaxed at the kitchen table to talk about the CD. The role of a producer encompasses many things, from picking the songs and musicians, to controlling the sessions, to coaching the artist to be all she can be. Producers also serve as visionaries, and the best of the best know almost intuitively how a project will sound even before it comes together.

  “None of these songs work for me, Roni,” Cass declared after checking out the songs Jason had lined up before his firing.

  Roni was instantly wary. “Why not?”

  “Because yes, these are all standards, but I don’t think they showcase your pipes very well. They’re all also the same tempo, pretty much. You need more sass in this list.”

  “Sass?”

  She nodded. “Tell you what. Give me a day or so to do some searching around and come up with some songs that will not only be best for that award-winning voice of yours but will also sell a CD. You do want this to sell, right? This isn’t just a vanity-type project?”

  Roni hadn’t thought about it in quite those terms. “Jason said it probably wouldn’t go platinum, but I wanted to do the songs anyway.”

  “Honoring the matriarchs is a wonderful idea, but making money while doing so is better.”

  Roni liked her. “I agree. Welcome aboard, Ms. Sullivan.”

  She bowed. “Glad to be here.

  C H A P T E R

  21

  At lunch the next day, Cassidy was all Zoey could talk about, and the kids who’d seen her at the Dog were right with her.

  “Loved her hair,” Leah said.

  “And the leather. Especially the boots,” Crystal added.

  “She’s the hottest thing in town,” Amari said. “Right, Brain?”

  With his girlfriend Leah giving him the eye, Brain shrugged. “She was okay.”

  Amari looked from Leah to his best bud and winced. “Sorry. Wasn’t trying to get you in trouble.”

  “No problem.”

  Wyatt asked, “I didn’t get to see her. When do you think I can meet her, Zoey?”

  “Come by after school, and I’ll introduce you.”

  “Okay.”

  Devon rolled his eyes and for the first time in a long time didn’
t offer his opinion—which everyone appreciated.

  As they were walking back to the classroom, Zoey suddenly remembered something, so she caught up with Wyatt. “I forgot. I’m going to see Reverend Paula right after school, so I’ll text you when I get back so you can come meet Cassidy.”

  “Okay.”

  As they retook their seats, she was glad he hadn’t asked why she had to see the reverend. She didn’t want him knowing why.

  Due to her broken arm, Zoey hadn’t been on her bike since the crash—not that it was in any condition to be ridden—so her mom had been driving her to school. The church was only a short walk away, so once they were dismissed for the day, she headed there, but not without Amari as an escort. Because of the craziness with the gold seekers, the adults didn’t want any of the kids to walk anywhere alone. She supposed they were afraid some nut would jump out and grab them—especially her, because everybody knew she owned the coins.

  When they reached the church, he waited until she went inside, then went on his way.

  Reverend Paula was in her office. “Hey, Zoey. Come on in.”

  Zoey did so, taking a seat on the nice sofa.

  “You want anything? Juice? A snack?”

  She shook her head. Being alone with the reverend always made Zoey think about Miami and her mom Bonnie, because that’s where they’d first met.

  “I enjoyed meeting Ms. Sullivan last night.”

  “Isn’t she the stuff?” She knew better than to say “the shitz” around the priest.

  Paula smiled. “She is the shizzle.”

  Zoey grinned.

  “So, tell me what’s been going on with you and Devon. Why’re you beefing?”

  Zoey’s face soured. “We’re not. He’s just an idiot.”

  “But you got suspended, right?”

  “Yeah. Because he won’t leave me alone.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  So she did.

  The reverend nodded in sympathy. “It’s embarrassing to be teased when you like somebody, and even more so when the teasing mentions someone having a baby.”

  “Yes, it is!” Zoey was glad somebody finally understood her side.

  “However—”

  Zoey’s happiness deflated.

  “—is that justification to pound him?”

  Zoey didn’t respond.

  “Let’s look at it this way. Is Devon the boss of you?”

  “No!”

  “Who’s the boss of you?”

  “Me. And my parents and the other adults,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Okay, so Devon is not in charge.”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you letting Devon be the boss of you, if he isn’t?”

  “But he’s not.”

  “Ah, but he is. Otherwise, when he pushes your buttons, you wouldn’t go into Angry Girl Knucklehead mode.”

  Her kind and wise eyes held Zoey’s.

  “You can’t control Devon, but you can control Zoey. And just think about how mad he’ll be when you don’t react the next time he’s being a pain in the rear. Sometimes silence is better than a punch.”

  “Never thought about it like that.”

  “Now you can.”

  And Zoey did, long and hard. “But he makes me so mad.”

  “You are the boss of you. You. If you have to count to ten or sing ‘Amazing Grace’ or ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ to yourself, find something that helps you remember that you control your response. We can’t have you breaking into Angry Girl Knucklehead mode every time something happens. The court frowns on that when you get older.”

  “That’s sorta what my mom said.”

  “Wise lady, your mom.” She silently studied Zoey for a few moments. “Will you do yourself a favor, and try and remember who’s in control?”

  She nodded.

  “Good, because the more you try something, the better it works.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, anything else you want to talk about? I heard about your aunt.”

  “Her kids called me a crackhead.”

  “Not very nice. Probably made you mad.”

  “It did. They said their mom wasn’t going to let me in the house because I was going to steal something. I don’t steal.”

  “No, you don’t, so this is another instance of being in charge of yourself. You know you’re an honest and loving person, but you can’t control what they think. If they knew you better, they’d figure out how wrong they are, so in this instance we have to be like Christ and forgive them.”

  “That’s kind of hard.”

  “I know, but when you say your prayers at night, ask God to watch over them and put love in their hearts. Who knows, the next time you meet them, maybe things will be different.”

  “I don’t want to see them again.”

  “Understandable, but you can still pray for them.”

  Zoey wasn’t sure she agreed with the reverend on that one, but said, “Okay, I’ll try it.”

  “That’s all God asks, honey,” Reverend Paula replied. “So did us talking help any?”

  “It did. A lot. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Anytime you need to think something through, you have me and your mom and dad—the whole town, really.”

  Zoey smiled. “I know.”

  “How about I drive you home?”

  “Great.”

  When Zoey got home, Cassidy was at the piano. “Hey there, Lady Zoey. How’d the day go?”

  “Pretty good. Where’s Mom?”

  “On the phone upstairs, talking to your dad.”

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Going over some songs I think might be good for your mum’s CD.”

  Zoey joined her on the bench and looked at the music on the stand. “ ’A-Tisket, A-Tasket’?”

  “Yes, it’s an old song by the great Ella Fitzgerald.”

  Zoey’d never heard the song before, but using the chart she began picking out the notes.

  “You can sight-read.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your mum teach you?”

  “No. I always knew how. Same as my bio mom.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  Zoey continued picking out notes.

  “Can you sing it while you play?”

  So Zoey did, and in the middle of it asked, “This is a song about a basket?”

  Cassidy laughed. “I’m afraid so, but Ms. Fitzgerald made it a very famous basket. So your biological mum played piano, too.”

  Zoey nodded. “She went to a school called Juilliard in New York.”

  “My brother went there, too. I wonder if they knew each other.

  “Your rocker brother?”

  “Yeah. What was your mum’s name?”

  “Bonnie. Bonnie Raymond.”

  Cassidy had such a strange look on her face that Zoey asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart. You know how sometimes you forget something, and when you suddenly remember, it sorta freezes you for a sec?”

  Zoey didn’t really, but she said “Yes.”

  “I think I forgot to give my neighbor the key to get in and feed my dog. Excuse me a minute. I need to go call her.”

  “Okay.”

  Upstairs, Roni had just ended her call with Reggie when Cass stuck her head in the doorway. “Roni, may I ask you something personal?”

  Roni stilled. “Sure. What is it?”

  “This may sound crazy, but do you believe that God puts people in your life for a reason?”

  “I do. Why?”

  “Here comes the real personal part. Do you know anything about Zoey’s father?”

  “No. Not a thing. And as far as we know, she doesn’t either. Why?”

  “I think it might be my brother, Conor.”

  Down the street at Bernadine’s house, Crystal was trying to convince her mom that she really needed a pair of black leather boots like the ones she’d seen Cassidy wearing.


  “How much are they?” Bernadine asked as they sat eating dinner.

  “The cheapest pair I found online was like two hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

  Bernadine choked on her water, and it took her a second to recover. “And you’re going to pay for them how?”

  “If you order them for me, I can pay you back thirty dollars a month.”

  “Do you make that much in tips?”

  Crystal toyed with the food on her plate and admitted, “Not really. How about ten bucks a month?”

  “How about you save up half, and we’ll see what Santa says about the balance.”

  “Okay.” It was obviously not the answer she’d been seeking, but she let it go.

  Diane was at the table as well, but said nothing.

  Crystal said, “I talked to Kiki today.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She and Bobby are real excited about moving up here, but they want to wait until after Thanksgiving. He finishes school the second week of November.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. Glad they have their priorities straight.”

  “You’re really going to like them. Everybody will. Thanks for letting them come.”

  “No problem.”

  Done with her dinner, she stood. “I’m going to finish up my homework. I’ll do the dishes later, so just put your stuff in the sink.”

  “Will do,” Bernadine said.

  After she was gone, Diane said, “You have a good relationship with her.”

  “I do, but it hasn’t been easy. She’s grown up a lot being here, and as long as we keep making progress, it’s all good.”

  Seeing Diane staring off, she asked quietly, “What’s up?”

  “Just thinking. The women at work have their lockers covered with pictures of their kids and grandkids. Marlene, the one I told you about who’s been a janitor for ten years, brags big-time about how good her kids are doing, about the grandkids’ birthday parties, and how they all get together at her place on Sundays for dinner.” The eyes she lifted to Bernadine’s were sad. “I don’t have that. In fact, I’ve a three-year-old granddaughter I’ve never even met. How pitiful is that?”

  Bernadine stayed silent.

  “You told me to look around at how other women are making it, and I’ve noticed that some of them don’t have a lot going on financially, but they’re okay with that because what they have outside work means so much to them. Last night, Marlene told us about her two-year-old grandson. Her daughter went out to get the mail, and when she came back, he’d locked the door. She had to climb in a window to get back into the house. We laughed and laughed, but I have no stories to tell, Bernadine. Not a one.”