Second Time Sweeter

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Opposed?”

  Silence.

  “I’ll let them know.” She took out her phone.

  They then spent the next few minutes talking about Lily’s class reunion set to kick off on Friday.

  Tamar asked, “Is everything in order?”

  Lily replied, “I think I have everything pretty much locked down, but if something goes off track, I’ll let you know.” She shared the agenda, how many people were expected, and when the Dog would be closed to the public.

  “Which is a great segue to the new restaurant,” Rocky said, smiling. “Bernadine, you do the honors.”

  Bernadine shared her thoughts on the new eatery she and Rocky planned to call the Three Spinsters. “As most of you know, it’s going to be named after three women who helped found nineteenth-century Henry Adams: AME church secretary Daisy Miller, town telegraph operator Rachel Eddings, and milliner Lucretia Potter. All three were unmarried and were vital forces to the town’s establishment and growth.”

  Gen said, “I think it would be wonderful having a place we could get dressed up and go to for special events like anniversaries and birthdays, or just a night out with someone you love.”

  Bernadine saw nods of agreement.

  “Where are you going to build it?” Marie asked.

  “That’s the question. Trent and I are thinking about adding another street behind Main and maybe building it there, but that means delaying construction until we get the infrastructure installed, like water mains, lights, and sidewalks. Not sure I want to wait that long.”

  Rocky said, “An alternative is to place it across the street from the Power Center. There’s nothing on Main down that way except Roni’s studio.”

  Anna asked, “But does Roni want the traffic and noise it might bring so close to her?”

  Everyone turned Roni’s way.

  She shrugged. “Something to think about, I suppose, but I sort of enjoy leaving a session and going out back, where it’s quiet and peaceful, and just sitting. If there’s a parking lot next door and people coming and going . . . not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Fangirl here,” Gemma declared, raising her hand. “Then we need to put it someplace else. We’re all waiting for more music. We need you relaxed.”

  There was laughter.

  Roni smiled. “Thanks, Gem.”

  Bernadine said, “Okay. Rocky and I will think this over and keep you in the loop. Just needed some feedback.”

  Tamar said, “I think a new restaurant is a great idea. We need something fancy here.”

  Marie said, “But will it affect the Dog’s business? Have you run this by Mal?”

  Bernadine said, “We have. He votes no.”

  Rocky said, “The Dog is a diner. This will be a restaurant. It’ll open in the evening. I don’t see it competing at all. Mal and his opinion can kick rocks.”

  A quiet settled in. Bernadine knew they were all thinking about her and Mal, so she spoke up. “Okay. Elephant in the room. Mal and I are done. Kaput. Over.”

  Gen said, “That’s too bad. You were so good for him, Bernadine.”

  “Not good enough, apparently.”

  Marie said, “He’s remorseful, if that helps any.”

  “It should, but it doesn’t. How am I supposed to trust him again? First the money, and then another woman.” Her eyes brushed Paula, who showed no response.

  Rocky said, “Update on Ruth. She’s not happy with him, either. She turned up at the Dog and they talked. When she left, Mal said her brother was coming to kick his butt.”

  Bernadine couldn’t hide her surprise. “Really?”

  “I asked if I could buy a ticket.”

  Smiles showed.

  Marie said, “He told me the same thing. He’s torn his pants with people far and wide.”

  Bernadine agreed, and she was curious about the information Rocky shared. During her visit to Bernadine’s office, Ruth revealed that he was no longer taking her calls. Why? she wondered. What happened? Not that she cared, or at least that’s what she told herself.

  Tamar said, “Thanks for giving him the job, though, Marie.”

  “You’re welcome. Like I told him, he can’t pay back what he owes standing in the unemployment line.”

  “Amen,” Gen said.

  Roni asked, “So what’s going to happen with the coffee shop?”

  Bernadine said, “Tina and I are calling friends to see if anyone wants to buy it, but in the meantime, I guess it’ll just sit empty.”

  Marie said, “The community college has a culinary program. Can they run it until you find a buyer?”

  Bernadine stared. “That is a brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Marie grinned.

  Bernadine said, “Marie, you’re a genius.”

  “I try.”

  “I’m calling the dean first thing in the morning.”

  Rocky said, “We need to plan a going-away party for Siz. I got his two-week notice today.”

  Cries of sadness filled the room.

  Rocky continued, “His mentor is back from Asia and wants our baby boy there as soon as he can make the arrangements. Not happy losing him, but happy he’s chasing down his dreams.”

  Sheila said, “I’ll take care of the party. Anyone who wants to be on the committee, let me know.”

  Roni asked, “So, who’s going to be in charge of the kitchen now?”

  Rocky replied, “Randy.”

  Tamar said, “The one with meat-and-vegetable tattoos?”

  Rocky nodded. “He may be a bit odd-looking, but the young man can cook. We’ll be in good hands, I promise.”

  Bernadine had no reason to doubt Rocky’s judgment but Siz was like one of their kids. He’d been feeding them since she purchased the town. He’d be sorely missed.

  Dads Inc. was meeting in Trent’s basement. There was beer, snacks, and the trash talk that always accompanied their get-togethers. Composed of Henry Adams’s dads, the group met monthly to talk about life, plan events, and enjoy themselves away from the children and womenfolk. Mal came in during the opening happy hour and all eyes turned his way.

  In the silence, he asked, “So, I’m not welcome?”

  Trent replied, “No one said that.”

  Reg quipped, “I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m surprised you’re here.”

  “Why?” Mal knew what was coming.

  “After the way you dragged me about my being upset because Roni made more money, I’d’ve thought you’d be too ashamed.”

  “Cut me some slack, doc,” Mal said, crossing the room and taking a cola out of the old-fashioned box-style cooler Trent had in a corner of the room. “Everywhere I go, people are giving me a hard time.”

  “Well earned,” Barrett Payne pointed out. “If I remember correctly, you didn’t have much pity for me when Sheila left, either.”

  Mal rolled his eyes and took a swallow from the frosty bottle. “Tell it to the Marines.”

  Jack said, “Pretty feisty there, OG.”

  “You’d be too, if you were in my shoes.”

  Reg said, “Which are probably fitting rather tight. Yes? No?”

  Mal glared.

  Barrett asked, “When are you painting the fence?”

  “People need to stop asking me that because I’m not doing it.”

  Trent sighed. Mal glared his way.

  Mal took them all in, then said, “Look, I came here to get away from the finger-pointing and lectures, so let’s have the meeting.”

  Reg said, “We can’t sweep what you did under the rug, Mal. What kind of example does that set for our kids? You know, the ones who used to worship the ground you walked on? I admit it. I had issues with Roni’s career and how much money she makes, but I was never dumb enough to steal to make up for it. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Obviously, I wasn’t, okay. I’m from a different generation.”

  “A generation that helps themselves to seventy thousand large that isn�
��t theirs?” Luis asked coolly.

  Angry, Mal blew out a breath. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

  Luis said, “I’m just trying to understand, because my son asked me if it was true that you stole a bunch of money. I had to tell him yes. And when he asked me why, I told him you thought it would make you a better person.”

  The room went still.

  Luis continued in a cold voice. “We know the world was a different place, gender-wise, back in the day, but stealing hasn’t changed. It was illegal then, it’s illegal now. We’re all raising sons in a world that is dangerous to them just because of who they are. Do you know how angry I am at you for making my son think stealing is how you solve a problem? None of us is perfect, but you just trashed one of the basic lessons a father teaches his sons—and his daughters: be honest in all things. Society already thinks they’re thugs and thieves, and here you are, living up to that stereotype. How could you, Mal?”

  The outrage Luis exuded shook him. Mal had no quick clap-back. His face hot, he noted Trent’s clenched jaw, mirrored by Gary, Jack, Barrett, Reg, and Bobby. Since coming back last week, Mal had been vacillating between being defiant one minute and shamed the next. Now shame and humiliation owned him completely in the wake of Luis’s incensed words. “I’m sorry, man,” he said quietly. “I was just thinking about me. It never crossed my mind how it might look to the kids—especially not in that way.”

  Reg seethed, “And that’s one of the most messed-up things about what you did—how the kids see it. Not sure how you’re going to fix this, but you need to come up with something. Soon.”

  Mal glanced around the room again, taking in men who were not the stereotypes society assumed them to be. Men both trustworthy and strong, faithful to their wives, loving with their kids, educated men who contributed to society in positive ways every day. As a boy who’d grown up without a dad, he knew how special they were. “Okay. I will. I don’t know what it’ll be, but I will.” He’d made a similar pledge before, but this time he planned to follow through. He owed these men for what they represented. They looked skeptical, however. Not a one showed a lick of support, and that was even more painful and embarrassing, so he snapped, “You don’t believe me.”

  After a few moments of silence, Trent said, “Actions, Dad. Actions.”

  Calling upon anger to hide the sharp sense of betrayal he felt inside, Mal said, “Okay, if you don’t think I’m a man of my word, then I don’t need to be here. From now on, meet without me. I’m no longer a member.”

  He waited for someone, anyone, to tell him differently, but no one spoke up. Furious, he left.

  The only place he knew to go was Clay’s. Bing answered his angry knock.

  “What’re you so hot about?” Bing stepped aside so he could come in.

  “Got a lecture from the Dads and I’m not happy about it.”

  Bing, like Tamar, often doubled as a mind reader. “Gave you hell about the bad example you set for their kids, I bet.”

  Mal didn’t reply.

  The old man chuckled bitterly. “Be glad they didn’t set you on fire.”

  “Can it, Bing. Where’s Clay?”

  “Out. Black Farmers’ meeting.”

  Mal belatedly remembered Clay saying something about that a few days ago. “Okay.”

  Frustration added itself to the sea of emotions swirling inside him.

  “Can I give you a piece of advice?” Bing asked.

  “No, but since you’re going to do it anyway, go ahead.”

  “Stop dealing with this like what you did is no big deal. Use whatever it was you had inside to kick the alcohol and make amends. And if you have to crawl from here to Kansas City through glass to get Bernadine to forgive you, do it. You’re a better man having her in your life.”

  Having heard all this before, Mal offered the only response he could.

  He left.

  Chapter 11

  Friday evening, Gary checked himself out in the mirror to see what Nori would see. Tall, still relatively slender, clean-shaven, fresh haircut, going bald. Glasses. Not exactly the description of Denzel or Idris, but he had on a great-looking charcoal-gray suit, a crisp white shirt, and a nice blue patterned tie. After so many years, he didn’t know why he wanted to make a good impression, but he did, and if Nori spoke to him only once during the reunion, he’d take it. After what happened between them, it was more than he deserved. His thoughts moved to Colleen. Knowing his ex-wife as he did, she would do her best to sabotage whatever fun he tried to have, but he was determined to keep her at arm’s length whether she wanted to be there or not.

  Downstairs, his daughters were waiting to critique his attire. When they saw him, their faces lit up and both raised their thumbs.

  He smiled. “I look okay?”

  Tiff grinned. “Wow!”

  Leah said, “You look really good, Dad. So good Mom might ask you to take her back.”

  “Then I’m going back upstairs to put on some old jeans and a hoodie.”

  They laughed.

  “Who are you hoping to see?” Leah asked.

  “The guys I ran track with and played with on the basketball team.”

  “No honeys?” Tiff asked slyly.

  He hesitated, and because he did, she said, “Okay, spit it out. Who?”

  “A girl I dated before I married your mother.”

  As if something about his manner was evident, Leah asked in a serious tone, “What’s her name?”

  “Eleanor. We called her Nori.”

  Tiff asked, “Why’d you break up?”

  He offered up a small smile. As far as he knew, the girls didn’t know the details surrounding their parents’ marriage. “I’ll tell you the story sometime.”

  Leah asked plainly, “You loved her, didn’t you?”

  Once again he hesitated, then replied, “I did, or at least what I thought passed for love in high school.”

  “Is she married?” Tiff asked.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  The girls shared grins.

  He laughed. “Don’t start thinking we’re getting back together. I don’t even know if she’ll remember me. High school was a million years ago.”

  Leah countered, “If you two loved each other, she will remember you. If Preston and I ever split up and met again a million years later, I’d remember him, and he’d better remember me.”

  Tiff said, “This is like one of those movies on Lifetime or the Hallmark Channel.”

  He loved his girls so much. “No, it isn’t. I’m going to head over to the reception.”

  Leah said, “Have a good time.”

  Tiff added, “And we’ll want answers about Ms. Nori at breakfast; just so you know.”

  Amused, he gave them each a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

  Gary entered the Dog to the up-tempo sounds of Whitney Houston on the jukebox asking “How will I know?” The music mingled with the laughter-spiked conversations of the well-dressed crowd. Seeing familiar faces, like the tall Jud Wealthy, who’d played center on the basketball team, widened his eyes, and he rushed over to give him a brotherly hug.

  “Clark Kent! How are you, my man?”

  Jud had been a string bean in high school, but appeared to have added quite a few pounds in the years since. He resembled a baked potato now, but his smile was the same.

  “I’m doing good. How are you?”

  “I’m making it. Good to be back. Henry Adams has changed. A lot.”

  “Yeah, We’re real proud of it, too.”

  “I guess so. Saw the new school driving in. Amazing.”

  As they chatted, other classmates came over to greet him. Sam French, who played guard and was on the wrestling team; Ike Kramer, a hurdler whose mom taught high school math; and Howie Pratt, an arrogant jerk no one really liked but was tolerated because his love of chemistry helped more than a few people pass the class.

  “Well, if it isn’t Gary Clark?”

  “Hey
, Howie. How are you?” Gary discreetly searched the crowd for Nori but didn’t see her.

  “It’s ‘Howard’ now, and I’m a law professor at Stanford.”

  “Ah. Do you enjoy teaching?”

  “Much better now that I have tenure. Was just telling July on the phone last night that I’m in the running for departmental chairman.”

  “Congrats. Hope you’re chosen.”

  “Too bad you weren’t able to take advantage of that scholarship to Notre Dame. July says you run the grocery store here in town?” Howie’s—Howard’s—tone was as smug as the look on his light brown, freckled face.

  “Someone has to do the heavy lifting.”

  Jud and Ike laughed.

  Howard added, “You know, I’m still simmering over you having a higher SAT score than mine. Are you sure you didn’t cheat?”

  Gary said, “No. I was just smarter. Always was, always will be. I’m going to go say hi to some folks. I’ll see you all in a bit.” He knew Jud was going to cuss him later for leaving him with Howie “It’s Howard now,” but Gary wasn’t in the mood for his sneering.

  He said hi to a few people, spotted Lily but not Trent, and stopped off at the buffet table to grab something to eat. He was reaching for a cup of punch when a soft manicured hand sporting sparkling gold nails covered his. “Is that for me, Superman?”

  The purring voice belonged to Val Joyce, former head cheerleader. She’d been a short, curvy, gorgeous ball of fire back then. Now she was still gorgeous. The hair blond instead of black. The brown eyes flirty as ever, and the body high school boys once dreamed about remained something to behold in a tight black dress with a low neck and a short hem. In answer to her question, he replied, “Of course,” and handed her the cup. “Hey, Val.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Looking good.”

  “You’re looking real good too, son of Jor-El. Glad to see you’re still avoiding the Kryptonite.”

  He chuckled, “Doing my best.”

  As the party flowed around them and they nodded and smiled at people they recognized, he and Val talked about what they’d been up to since graduation. She’d gone to LA to be an actress. “I didn’t have half the talent I thought I had,” she confessed with a smile. “But I did have a head for business, so I ended up becoming an agent.” She reeled off the names of some of her A-list clients.