Dottie gave a terse smile and nodded. When Sissy was gone, Suvi leaned forward and spoke a little lower.
“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings,” Suvi said.
“I know you’re not. It just seems like…no matter what I say, it’s wrong. Like you just expect the worst every time.”
Suvi sat back and shook his head in disgust. “You know, that statement right there just burns me up. Like it’s my fault because I expect the worst. Well, you would, too. Trust me.”
Before Dottie could respond, a man neither of them recognized, sitting two tables away, turned and caught her eye.
“Are you okay? Is he bothering you?”
Dottie’s response was immediate. She forced herself to relax and appear in control.
“Oh, yeah, we’re fine. Just talking, that’s all,” Dottie said.
Suvi raised his hands - palms forward. “See what I mean?”
Dottie said nothing, just stared down at the table. She picked up a tiny, wadded scrap of paper that once held a straw and worked it open with her fingers.
“I’m not even safe in my own town,” Suvi said, more to himself than to Dottie, and so quietly it was almost a whisper.
“Oh, come on,” Dottie dropped the straw wrapper and slapped both hands to the table. “That’s ridiculous. He was just making sure I was okay.”
“Right. From the big, black dude, I get it.”
“Well, it’s not like you can’t take him if it came to that.”
“Ha!”
Suvi’s laugh was so loud and sharp the whole restaurant got quiet for a split second, and heads turned in their direction. He waited a moment, then spoke again, his voice dropped low.
“And what then, Dottie? You think I walk around this earth spoiling for a fight? Well, I don’t.” Suvi slid his chair backwards, turning it at an angle from the table. “But some people in the town sure do, and I’m tired of backing down.”
He stood then and turned toward the door, nodding at the man who had spoken to him a moment ago and still sat staring in his direction.
Dottie sat and watched out the window as Suvi Jones folded himself into his truck, closed the door with firm control, backed out of the parking lot and drove away.
“Dammit,” she whispered and dropped her head into her hands.
28
Beanie’s Secret
The Atwater household settled into a nice routine in the first week of Sweet Lee’s convalescence at home. Bubba was gone quite a bit, which gave Sweet time to bond with Beanie over countless loads of laundry. They fell into the habit of taking coffee together in the living room, just after the kids left for school. Beanie stopped in the laundry room on her way in every morning so, by the time breakfast was over and the dishes washed, there was a load to fold, which Beanie would bring to the living room while Sweet poured the coffee. This was the most strenuous task Sweet was allowed to do. Even the laundry was sorted so that Sweet had only to fold underwear and socks, which in the Atwater household was enough to keep her occupied until she tired.
On Monday morning, once the kids were packed off to school, Beanie settled Sweet into the recliner and gave her the TV remote.
“Now you just set here and watch whatever you want while I clean up the kitchen.”
When she was finished with the dishes, she brought Sweet a glass of ice water and sat down on the couch with a whoosh, both from her skirt and her exhaled breath of exhaustion.
“I hate you’re having to do all this Beanie. I don’t know how we’ll ever pay you what it’s worth.”
“You ain’t got to pay me nothin’. Bubba John and I already worked that out. He got me out of a touchy situation and gave me a roof over my head. Besides, I’m happy to help out for a while. You ain’t gonna be off your feet forever.”
“I didn’t realize there was any problem at The Château. I thought you and Will got along well.”
“Oh, we did, but you know…I started seein’ Suvi and it just got a little awkward is all.”
“Ooohhh,” said Sweet, as she mentally sorted the options for what that might mean.
Beanie shrugged and changed the subject. “How ‘bout we get you into the shower while everybody’s gone. You feel up to it?”
“Sounds wonderful, but I don’t know what I’ll do with this hair afterwards. I’m not supposed to raise my hands over my head for any length of time. I think blow-drying is out of the question.”
“I can fix your hair for ya,” Beanie said. “Won’t take long at all.”
And it didn’t. Beanie knew when to step in and help without making Sweet feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. She was back in a clean nightgown and sitting in front of her dressing table before there was time to be tired.
Sweet refrained from comment until Beanie was finished drying and styling her hair.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Sweet asked. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, easing closer to admire the soft curls Beanie coaxed into her unruly locks.
“Well, yeah,” Beanie said, “but I always loved doin’ hair. Used to practice on my cousins when we was growin’ up. That was ‘fore I stopped speakin’ to ‘em, ‘cause they was so hateful all the time.”
“You have a gift,” Sweet said. “A real gift. Have you ever thought about being a hairdresser?”
“Lots of times,” Beanie nodded. “I even tuck one of them classes over at the Vo-Tech center after I got outta high school. But there’s the proof I cain’t do everything, right there. I ain’t never been good at tests. I could do ever’thing they asked me to do in the shop, but I couldn’t pass them tests for nothin’.”
“Oh, Beanie, I’m so sorry,” Sweet said, catching Beanie’s eye in the reflection of her mirror.
“That’s why I don’t drive, either,” Beanie admitted for the very first time in her life. “Will was gonna teach me, but I didn’t have the heart to tell ‘im it wouldn’t do no good. I’d get down there and freeze up when it came time to answer all them questions.”
“Beanie,” Sweet said, turning to face Beanie directly, “have you ever been tested for learning disabilities?”
“For what?”
“Problems with learning, you know, like dyslexia or attention deficit or anything like that?”
“I don’t recollect if I have or I haven’t. Alls I can tell ya is, if it was a test somebody give me, I prolly failed it.”
29
The Welcoming Committee
Gabriella Warren slammed the trunk of her 2011 Mercedes C300, a prize she won when she aced the seventeenth hole at Blue Bay. She didn’t win the tournament but, for the first time, got noticed for something other than being a black southern woman on the LPGA tour. Truth told, she didn’t think about it nearly as much as everyone else seemed to do. She first played golf on her high school team in a rural Florida town very similar to Mayhew Junction. She was a natural; the game itself suited her introverted personality as well as her love of being outdoors. Gabriella was recruited by three major universities, including Duke, but she chose Auburn for reasons only she knew. After college, Gabe toured with the LPGA for ten years, never winning any of the biggest titles, but earning enough money and recognition to transition into whatever career suited her fancy when it was time to retire.
Gabe chose real estate. After traveling extensively since her high school days, she was ready to settle down. She started out in Jacksonville, getting her real estate license, working for a few years, then taking the broker’s exam, which she aced as well. She knew she wanted her own company, something she could grow without answering to anyone else. She looked at several small towns before settling on Mayhew Junction. It fit her criteria: small town, no local competition, and at least one family member nearby. In this case, it was her cousin who taught at the elementary school in Mayhew. Their mothers were sisters and, though they had never been particularly close, Gabe remember Delia with real fondness from family get-togethers over the years.
Their first meeting in Mayhew Junction had alm
ost been their last. Delia, well-intended and misinformed, warned Gabe that the locals didn’t look kindly on homosexuality and might blackball her business accordingly. Gabe almost got mad; she had never suffered fools gladly. But then it struck her as funny and she started to laugh.
“I’m not gay, Delia, despite what people think.”
And they did think it. Gabe was well-aware, but did nothing to quell the rumors.
“Really? But they’ve always said…” Delia was genuinely confused.
“Who are they, Dee? Anyone who knows me, knows the truth. I’m just very, very picky.”
“Why didn’t you ever set the media straight about it? No pun intended…sorry.” Delia gave a rueful smile and threw up her hands.
Gabe shrugged. “It made it a lot easier, trust me. Too hard to sustain a relationship on the road? Too hard to weed out the users? Too hard to avoid starting a family? Take your pick. I was happy. I liked my life. I wanted to keep it that way, that’s all.”
“Are you, then? Happy, I mean.”
“I am,” Gabe said, “And I’m excited about moving here.”
“It’s awfully quiet in Mayhew Junction,” Delia warned.
“That’s what I like most about it,” Gabe replied. “I don’t have a lot of money, but I’m comfortable. There are no quotas I need to meet, no pressure to increase company profits - I am the company. It’s going to be great. Just watch.”
“Okay, but do you mind if I dispel a few rumors in the meantime?”
Gabe sighed. “Does it matter that much to you?”
Delia thought about the question for a moment before replying.
“Only because they’re wrong. It’s a small town, Gabe. And gossip is the number one hobby. Well, hunting first, maybe. Then gossip,” she grinned. “If they’re going to talk about you, and they are, I’d like for them to at least have the facts.”
“What people think about me is none of my business, Dee. I know who I am. You know, too. Isn’t that enough?
Delia did not respond.
“Look, it’s no big deal. If you feel better about it, then knock yourself out. I honestly just don’t care.”
“I’ve made you mad,” Delia said.
“Not at all. Not at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely positive. Part of the reason I moved here is to have family nearby. You’re all I’ve got. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either, and clearly this issue does. So, no sweat. Say whatever you need to say.”
“So we’re good?” Delia asked.
“Yep, we’re good. You know, it is what it is. No problem.”
“Can I set you up on a date, then?”
“Absolutely not,” Gabe said and grinned. “I have to draw the line somewhere and that one is uncrossable.”
Dee laughed then, officially breaking the awkwardness of the entire conversation.
“Alright, then. How about if I just invite you to dinner one night?”
“That would be lovely, as long as you don’t invite some strange man, too.”
“The one I had in mind is not strange at all,” Delia smiled.
“Don’t do it, Dee. I mean it.”
And she did. Gabriella Warren had no intentions of meeting, dating, or marrying anyone from Smalltown, USA. And that was how she set up her entire life – in avoidance of that which scared her half to death. No chance of finding anyone suitable in this Podunk town, and that suited her just fine.
Gabe stepped back into her new office and surveyed the room. It had been a chiropractor’s office a year ago. The current décor did not suit her tastes, but it was clean and comfortable and would suffice for now. She exited the building and saw two huge pickup trucks parked on either side of her car. The one on the driver’s side was so close, there was no way she could get her car door open enough to get in. Two men stood at the back bumper of the truck on the left. She couldn’t help but feel intimidated, but she drew herself up to her full five feet, ten inches and took a deep breath.
“Morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?” Gabe asked, smiling broadly with everything but her eyes.
***
Randy Kerner pulled a toothpick from his mouth with his left hand and thrust the right one towards Gabriella Warren.
“Good mornin’, Ms. Warren, nice to finally make your acquaintance. I’m Randall Kerner, County Commissioner, District Three. How you doin’ today?”
Gabe gave the proffered hand a quick squeeze and stepped back immediately.
“Nice to meet you, too, Sir. Hope this isn’t a political call, I’m not even registered to vote here yet.”
“Oh, no, this is purely a social call. Just wanted to welcome you to Fletcher County. This here’s Malcolm McConnell. He’s the Town Clerk for Mayhew Junction.”
Mac pulled himself up to his full five-feet-seven-and-one-half inches and gave a salute that looked more like a wave before sticking both hands in his pockets with a shrug.
“Good ta’ meetcha. My wife follows you on the tour. Gets a kick outta you bein’ – uh, you know – kind of a local and all.”
Gabe squinted and gave Mac a sideways look. “I’m not from here.”
“Oh, yeah, I know, but Delia teaches at the school with my wife, so we kinda count you as one of our own. Kinda like a claim to fame or somethin’, ya know?”
Gabe nodded. “Kinda.”
“Anyway,” Randy said, “we just wanted to stop by and say ‘hey’ and let you know we are proud to have you settling here. Just proud as can be. And if there is anything we can do to help you in any way, you can stop by the town hall or the courthouse. I don’t know what district you’re living in, but it doesn’t really matter. You can call me any time. Have you found a place to live yet, by the way?”
“No, not yet, but I’ll get there. Staying at a hotel in Live Oak right now, but I’m going to go by The Château in the next few days and see if I can get a room there.”
“Well, good. Will’s a great guy. He’ll be happy to have the business, too, I’m sure. Where you looking for property? I imagine you’re going to want some acreage or something, huh? You thinking of putting in a golf course? County could use one, that’s for sure. Closest one’s in Suwannee County. The boys on our golf team have a forty-five minute drive each way.”
“What about the girls?” Gabe asked.
“Don’t have a girls’ team,” Mac said.
“Really?” Gabe smoothed an errant sprig of hair away from her face. “Why not?”
Mac scratched his head. “I don’t rightly know, to be honest.”
“Not many female golfers in the county,” Randy said. “But I bet there will be now that you’re here. You’d make a great coach for the team if you’re interested.”
Gabe laughed and kicked at a rock on the concrete pavement. “It’ll be a while before I have time to even think about volunteering anywhere. I need to get this company off the ground, find a place to live… First things first, you know.”
The pavement crackled behind them and all three turned to see Suvi Jones pull into the parking lot and exit his truck.
Ignoring the two men, Suvi extended a hand that, once she gripped it, engulfed Gabe’s own strong and capable hand. Gabriella Warren had never been considered petite but, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt tiny, and a little intimidated.
“Vesuvius Jones. Folks call me Suvi.”
“Gabe Warren.”
“That probably goes without saying. You’re a legend.”
“Takes one to know one, I guess,” Gabe said and smiled.
“I’m not even in your league,” Suvi said, returning the smile, “but I wondered if you’d have time to talk to me a minute.”
“I do have time. Is now okay?”
“Uh, sure, if I’m not interrupting,” Suvi said.
“Not at all. We can go inside the office. It’s not entirely set up yet, but it’s clean.”
“I heard.” Suvi looked pointedly at the two men
standing sheepishly behind Randy’s truck.
Randy reddened immediately and nudged Mac. “Nice meetin’ you, Ms. Warren. See ya tomorrow, Suvi.”
Suvi reached around Gabe and pulled the office door open.
“What was that all about?” Gabe asked over her shoulder as she entered the building.
“A mistake in judgment, mostly,” Suvi said. “I’ll tell you later.”
By the time Suvi Jones and Gabe Warren got around to discussing real estate, the two athletes had forged an easy friendship that included a tee time at Suwannee Valley Country Club for Saturday morning. Suvi was a little rusty, he was certain, but he had no intentions of turning down a golf game. Lord knows it was hard enough to find a golfer in Fletcher County, let alone one who invited him to play.
“So, tell me what you’re looking for, exactly,” Gabe said. “I’ve seen your house. It’s gorgeous. Why do you want to move?”
“Well…” Suvi paused and leaned forward in his chair. “That’s a difficult question to answer.”
“Oh, Lord, here we go,” Gabe laughed. “Spill it, sir. It’ll do you good to say it out loud.”
“I don’t know that it’s all that bad. I just want a change, that’s all. The house is too big, for one thing.”
“And the location isn’t a concern?”
Suvi frowned, setting his lips in a grim line.
“Not on my part,” he said. “I like my neighborhood fine. It’s close to town. I can walk to work anytime I want.”
“But you want to sell it now, so what are you looking for that’s different?”
“I don’t know, something smaller maybe?”
“You want some land to work? Something out in the country?”
“Shoot, no!” Suvi shook his head to emphasize the point. “I have enough work to do without trying to take on a bigger yard.”
“What’s the mortgage like on your house? You owe a lot?”
“Nope, my house is bought and paid for.”
“Oh, good, I was afraid you’d be upside down in it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Suvi was clearly annoyed.
What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1) Page 16
