*
Instead of letting her shoulder bag swing at her hip as she usually did, Annabeth carried it with the strap twisted around her hand. The most cash she’d ever had in her wallet at one time was a hundred dollars. Now she carried thousands. How strange the house looked without R.J.’s collection of heaps. No, it looked better. There was room for a bigger garden if she wanted. If only she were able to keep the house instead of having to move out of it. What would R.J. say when he found out she sold his cars? There was little doubt there—he’d be livid.
She walked into Hawkins Ford, toward Doug’s office, but he wasn’t there. Stepping back into the showroom, she admired the new cars. She had never had a new car of her own. Imagine being able to walk right in here and buy one of these shiny new vehicles. R.J.’s van was only a couple of years old—he had bought it new. Her car had once been his—the one he drove to work before he started his vending machine business. Annabeth ran her fingers along the fender of a shiny red Mustang. Gosh! It was adorable. Imagine speeding along the highway in that. She wouldn’t think a thing about visiting Laurel if she had a nice safe car like that to drive. She glanced at the sticker then sighed, the numbers on it banishing her fantasy.
She walked toward the door, a bit intimidated. Outside was the lot of used cars. Surely one of those would be better than her old clunker.
“Hi, there!” His voice was deep and smooth. His intonations confident and friendly.
Annabeth turned and looked up into the smiling face of the man who’d just addressed her. He was the one Doug had been arguing with the day of the party.
He offered her his hand. “I’m Grady.”
“Hello,” she said quietly, observing him. He hadn’t changed much from his days as a football star. He still had that predatory quality, that take-charge self-confidence.
“How can I help you?”
“I was expecting to see Doug.”
“He’s not here just now. Let me help you.” He walked over to the Mustang she had just been admiring, opened the door and helped her inside.
“Very comfortable seats,” she said, climbing out.
“Did you want to test drive it?”
“Actually I wanted to look at used cars.”
Grady nodded his head, looking into her eyes in a way that implied that he knew her although Annabeth was certain he did not remember her at all. “Let’s go outside then, ma’am, um?”
“Annabeth Welner.”
“You know, Ms. Welner, you’d look awfully good in that Mustang. It seems a shame not to at least test drive it.”
“I could test drive it. I just couldn’t pay for it. Let’s look outside.” Annabeth was amazed to hear herself speaking so frankly.
Grady led her toward the door, mentioning as they walked, “We offer excellent financing, you know.”
They walked through the lot of cars. There were so many, but some of them were priced relatively cheaply. Annabeth wondered how she’d choose the right one. She took a deep breath and tried to get a sense of focus.
“You know, I think I have the perfect car for you. Come on back here.”
Annabeth followed Grady to the car he recommended, but before she could climb into it, Doug appeared. Grady scowled almost imperceptibly as Doug scrutinized him and then looked her and back to Grady. What was going on between these two men? There was definitely something below the surface, but she couldn’t imagine what. “I looked for you when I came in,” said Annabeth.
Doug watched Annabeth and his brother closely for a reaction then said, “Why don’t you let me take over.”
“Okay, sure,” answered Grady without emotion.
“Thank you for all your help,” said Annabeth to Grady.
“No problem.”
Doug touched Annabeth’s arm as Grady walked off. “It’s nice to see you again,” he said smiling, his eyes flashing at her.
“I did something terrible,” she laughed.
“Oh?” he asked playfully.
“My husband had a dozen old cars parked at the side of our house. I sold them all to Sam’s Junk Yard. I’m tired of driving a clunker.”
Doug laughed. “His body’s not in one of the trunks, is it?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not so bad. Not an amicable divorce?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We just started it. He canceled my credit card and cleaned out the bank accounts.”
Doug shook his head. “I’m sorry. Your dad’s a lawyer, isn’t he?”
“You have such an amazing memory.”
Doug looked deeply into her eyes then, as though he were searching for something. “I’m surprised you didn’t want Grady to help you,” he said improbably.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because he was your first—uh—boyfriend—uh—in high school.”
“What?”
“You did—uh—date him, didn’t you?”
“No! I don’t think we ever even had a conversation.”
“Are you sure?”
Annabeth grew more perplexed by this line of questioning. She thought back to high school, remembering a dance and began to speak. “There was the spring dance. Were you there?”
Doug watched her intently as she spoke, shaking his head briefly to respond and indicating that she should continue.
“I was standing with Maggie and Janice, and we were talking. Grady started to walk toward us, to ask Janice to dance. She was very popular there for a while.”
Doug laughed, remembering the time, on a dare, Janice had left off the bottoms of her cheerleader’s costume and then revealed quite a bit too much when she made a leap and her skirt twirled up. “Bottomless cheerleaders usually are.”
Noting the intensity of his gaze without making sense of it, Annabeth continued, “Maggie squealed, in a whisper, if you can whisper and squeal at the same time, ‘Ooh it’s the Hawk!’”
“His football name.”
“Yes. And before he could ask Janice to dance, Maggie grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor.”
“Maybe he was coming to ask you to dance.”
Annabeth blushed. “Go on. Of course not. I’m sure not.”
“That’s an interesting story.” Doug’s eyes were flashing.
Annabeth was certain she saw anger there but couldn’t imagine why. Not knowing what to say next, she touched the car Grady wanted to sell her and said, “Your brother seems to think this is the car for me.”
“He probably doesn’t know that you have a trade in and can afford something a little better. You do want to trade in your old car, right?”
“I figured it wasn’t worth anything.”
“Sure it is. Now come over here. This is the car I want you to have. It’s in perfect condition. Low miles. New tires and battery. You know the little old lady who only drove to church?”
Annabeth laughed. “She gave up religion and decided to sell this car?” Then she spotted the price painted neatly on the windshield. “This is over seven thousand dollars.”
“With your car as trade in. And your ill-gotten gains from fleecing your husband.”
“It’s red. I love red.”
“Take it for a test spin, why don’t you. Just to be sure you like the way it handles.”
She was in love! She had bought a car! Annabeth held her hand up to the vent. Cold! Perfect air conditioning. She reached down and turned up the radio. It sounded great. And if she wanted to, she could play a CD. She looked down at the passenger seat, where all the papers lay. It was her car and she had papers to prove it! Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal and the car sped forward, silently obeying her commands. There was no sound coming from under the hood but the smooth purring of the motor, perfectly doing its job. Annabeth pulled out onto the local highway, where she could accelerate and enjoy driving her car. It seemed a shame to go right home.
She drove for a bit, but there was no point in wasting gas driving along aimlessly, so she reversed the car and headed
back into Gull’s Perch. Maggie, she thought, and glanced at the clock on the dash, which kept perfect time. It wasn’t much past two. Maggie would be home, so Annabeth resolved once again to stop by and speak to her friend. It was a matter of minutes before she was pulling up in Maggie’s driveway, stopping the car and walking toward the door. She glanced back once, thinking, I love that car!
Maggie pulled the door open, her face a mask of disinterest. “Yes?” she said without emotion.
Annabeth bit her lip, looking deeply into her friend’s eyes. “Maggie, come on, stop this. Let’s talk.”
“I’m busy right now.”
Annabeth winced. “Listen to me. I did nothing to break up those kids. They aren’t even broken up. They’re still together every night. You know that, don’t you?”
Maggie stared silently at her.
“And I surely didn’t try to ruin the party. You can’t really believe that. My God. You know how much trouble I had with that car. For months. In fact I just bought a new one. Sold all R.J.’s heaps—without him even knowing it.”
Maggie looked toward Annabeth’s car parked in her driveway and her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but then her grandson’s voice came from the kitchen. “Oops, I need to go now.” And before Annabeth could reply she had shut the door.
Annabeth walked toward her car, the thrill at seeing it dampened only slightly. What sense did it make for Maggie to be so angry? She couldn’t imagine. Didn’t it seem as though Maggie was just about to laugh when she heard about the sale of R.J.’s junker cars? Sure it did. Why was Maggie clinging to this anger? And was she crazy or did Maggie look resentful when she saw that Annabeth’s car was as nice as her own?
She turned the key in the ignition, and realizing that she was holding her breath, Annabeth consciously relaxed. The motor started. Of course it did! She pulled out onto the street and drove the few miles to Old Magnolia Bayou. Maggie would relent, Annabeth was certain of it. The car drove smoothly along the curving lane and she pulled up beside her house, spotting Julie’s car.
Julie sat waiting on the porch. “You changed the lock!” she exclaimed.
“Dad told me to.”
“I’ve been stuck here waiting for like twenty minutes. Whose car were you driving?”
“My car. Isn’t it great? I got fed up with that old clunker.”
“Sure, it’s nice. Ready to help me with the art show?”
Annabeth sat beside her sister on the porch, enjoying the afternoon breeze. “Sure. Only I don’t know if I can help the day of the show. I got a job.”
“A job? You’re kidding. Doing what?”
“Soda fountain at Gleason’s Drug Store.”
Julie laughed. “Whatever for?”
“For money, what do you think?”
“So you won’t be able to help me then?”
“I can help some, sure. Tomorrow is my first day and I guess I’ll find out my schedule then.”
“Who’ll take little Bobby when I need help with him?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I’ll be working most weekdays. Gee, maybe even some weekends. I don’t know yet.”
“I count on you, Annabeth. You know I do.”
“I know. And I want to be there for you but I need to make money. I’m getting divorced. R.J. canceled my credit card and cleaned out the bank accounts. I might even lose this house.”
Julie was clearly distressed. “That’s terrible.” She stood and reached over to hug her sister. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”
“You won’t be without me. I’ll help you as much as I can. And of course, even if I do have to move, I’ll still be here in town.”
“Okay. I guess.”
“Oh—did you bring back my gray slacks?”
“No, but I didn’t forget them. They’re at the cleaners. I got something on them at the party, but I’m pretty sure they can get it out.”
Annabeth sighed. “Okay. Now what did you want me to do tonight?”
Julie reached into her bag and retrieved a list and began to speak. Annabeth listened, nodding, and some time passed as they discussed the art show.
Annabeth watched Julie drive away after having agreed to do as much as she could of the tasks her sister assigned. She sat for a while, feeling the silence of the afternoon all around her, and she was bothered by a sense of uneasiness. So many things had changed in such a short time. Annabeth sighed at those changes, and at those to come, but there was more than that on her mind. She felt guilty. It was rare for her to behave in a selfish manner, and often when she got what she wanted there was a sense of guilt along with the pleasure. What was it today? Was it the sale of her husband’s cars? The wrath that he would no doubt visit on her? She had betrayed his trust by selling his cars, yes she knew that, but somehow that was not the source of the guilt that plagued her now. Her husband had abandoned her. Her best friend was furious at her. And her sister felt insecure and abandoned by her. Surely some of this was her fault? Annabeth pondered her life and the feelings of the people she loved. How was she to blame for these problems? She didn’t know, and once again she sighed. This would probably be her last free afternoon for a while. She looked at the sky, noting the position of the sun. It would not set for a bit. She could sit here now and think, but tomorrow she would be at work.
The next morning, Annabeth checked her watch half a dozen times while she made breakfast. She didn’t have to be there until eleven. But being early was important. At quarter to eleven, she walked into the drug store, but the person behind the prescription counter wasn’t Chuck. It was his father, Charles, a man in his late fifties. His hair, formerly sandy, was now sparse, and he wore gold-rimmed glasses that veiled his watery blue eyes. He was smaller than his son, perhaps only an inch or two taller than Annabeth herself.
She smiled at him as he looked up from his work to greet her. “I’m Annabeth. Chuck hired me to work here.”
“Yes, hello. He told me you’d be coming. We got a shipment of ice cream just this morning. And there are other supplies in the big refrigerator in back. You’ll need to straighten up the counter, wash the glasses, set up the freezer in front. And then, once that’s done, maybe you could straighten the shelves a little, dust a bit. Do you know how to work a cash register?”
Annabeth shook her head.
“Let me show you that first thing.”
Annabeth followed Charles around, trying to remember every detail he said and she learned to work the cash register. “How about that!” she laughed, “It’s not that hard at all.”
Charles smiled at her, “No, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
Annabeth worked silently for several hours, and eventually the ice cream counter gleamed, the glasses were sparkling and neatly stacked on their shelves behind the counter, the supplies were in perfect order, and even the stools were polished. She stood back for a moment and admired her work. Looking into every storage area behind the cabinet, Annabeth made sure that everything was in order and that she knew where each item was. She pulled out a bag of waffle mix and studied the directions. It seemed pretty simple. She turned on the pizzelle machine and started producing hand made waffle cones and waffle cups, which she placed in the small dispenser on top of the counter.
Charles, who had been observing her from time to time, came out from his pharmacist’s window and sat on one of the stools. “That’s a wonderful smell,” he said.
“Want to be my first customer?”
“Think you could make me a hot fudge sundae in one of those waffle cups?”
“I sure hope so!” she laughed. “Vanilla ice cream?”
Charles thought for a bit about his options. “Coffee?” he mused.
“Oh! A sophisticate!”
“Pistachio?”
“A rebel!”
“Strawberry?”
“A naturalist!”
Charles smiled at Annabeth in a friendly way. It was probably a lot more congenial for him to have her
working there than some teenager. Annabeth smiled back; he was a nice man and working wasn’t so hard. “You know,” she confided, “In fancy ice cream places in New Orleans they have exotic flavors like mango and kiwi.”
“No kidding. I’ve never even tasted a kiwi.”
“Kind of sweet and tangy. Now, for your sundae—what about a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of something else. Pistachio. That would be pretty.” Charles nodded in agreement and watched happily as she created his sundae in the waffle cup that was by now cool.
Although she was not overly busy, Annabeth found things to do, and the hours passed. Before long it was eight o’clock, and time for her to leave.
“Hope we didn’t work you too hard on your first day,” said Charles.
“No, not at all.”
“How will you manage supper for your family working so late here each night?”
“My daughter is off with her fiancé. Nobody else to worry about.”
“Oh, I see. Normally Chuck and I take turns working late here. Have to compete with the discount drugs on the highway.”
Annabeth nodded.
“Usually I go right home, but tonight my wife is at her sister’s house in Apalachicola. I figured on grabbing a burger at the Rusty Lantern before going home. Why don’t you come along? I mean don’t get the wrong idea. I just hate to eat alone.”
“The Rusty Lantern?” she asked.
“They have better burgers than the fast food places. Oh, you’re worried because it’s a bar. Actually it’s kind of fun on Wednesday nights. They have karaoke—you know—sing along. It can be pretty funny to hear some of those crooners.”
Annabeth hesitated. “I’ve never been in a bar.”
Charles smiled at her, saying, “You’ll be safe with me.”
It was a long, typically dimly lit room with the bar on one wall and a few brown vinyl booths on the opposite one. In the middle of the room were maybe half a dozen tables. On the back wall was a juke box, and to one side of it sat a cigarette machine with a small sticker proclaiming Welner Vending. There was a small, high window at the front by the door, and in it was a neon sign with a picture of a lantern. Below that were more tables, the ones chosen by people wanting only to eat.
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