What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1)

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

  “Impressive,” Suvi said.

  “Wait’ll you see my swing.”

  “I’ve already seen it. I told you – I’m a fan.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what everybody says, but they actually don’t watch us play.”

  “I watch,” Suvi said, and he meant it.

  Ten minutes later they were teeing up on the first hole. By the ninth, Suvi was three strokes behind Gabe, but the competitive camaraderie brought out a side of Suvi that he hadn’t shown in years and barely even remembered in himself. Suvi Jones was laughing out loud.

  ***

  After Saturday’s golf game, Gabe spent a few hours riding through some of the neighborhoods in Fletcher County, though Gabe thought calling some of them neighborhoods was a bit generous. In Jacksonville, where she spent the past several years, there were countless planned communities with names like Summit Crossing and Augustine Oaks, all designed to create a pleasing aesthetic. They often included amenities like clubhouses, pools, and tennis courts, with houses of similar price range, painted various shades of one color scheme.

  In Fletcher County, however, they had places like River Acres, marked with a homemade sign on a slab cut from a cypress tree. Dust from the dead-end dirt road leading both in and out of the “development” settled into the grooves left by the chain saw used to procure the wood. The background was painted white, and the letters had been routed by hand and painted red, which made it impossible to correct the sign-makers blunder: the sign read River Acers and no one dared protest.

  A half mile down, the dirt road took a hard left and paralleled the river for a little less than a mile, coming to a stop in a small clearing surrounded by barbed wire fencing and “No Trespassing” signs. Along the river, dwellings of all shapes and sizes sat on the perfectly parceled half-acre lots, the only part of the neighborhood that could be described as “planned.” On one, a vintage single-wide trailer, which may or may not have seen better days - on another a camper next to a double lot with a tidy gray and white cabin raised up on thick wooden pillars to keep it above the floodplain. Farther down the road another single-wide mobile home, encased in board and batten siding and riding high on concrete pylons sat next door to a two story brick house that had been grandfathered in with regard to new floodplain rules, and was subject to flooding every ten years or so.

  An hour or so into Gabe’s wanderings, she was beginning to feel discouraged. To begin with, she wasn’t exactly sure what Suvi Jones was looking for; his description had been vague from the start. Downsizing, he called it. How far down, was the question. His house was huge, too big for one man, and a bachelor at that. But Suvi didn’t look too old to start a family and he hadn’t made a single remark that made her uncomfortable. Maybe he, like herself, was simply a loner. And yet he hesitated yesterday on a question she posed with every potential single client: Do you plan on marrying or starting a family anytime soon?

  Important to know, of course. Should she be looking for a bachelor pad or a family home? It was a simple question, and Suvi had paused – squirmed in his chair, which was hard to miss, given his enormous stature. The guy was huge. Not fat, though. What was the word she was looking for? Imposing. Yes, that’s it. Suvi is an imposing man, she thought. But definitely not my type, she added. Where did that come from? Oh, stop.

  Gabe Warren shook the internal dialogue from her head and focused on the neighborhood next on the map she had printed from her internet search. It was small, somewhat planned – at least the roads were paved. Not on the river, so no floodplain to consider. Still no apparent zoning regulations in effect, since every other house was vastly different from the one before. Most yards seemed nicely kept, though only a few were landscaped. Nothing for sale so far, though. She turned the corner onto a short road that ended at a cul-de-sac, upon which sat a single house with a “For Sale by Owner” sign by the mailbox. Perfect. She stopped, knocked on the door and waited. After no answer, she rang the doorbell and heard it chime loudly inside. When there was still no answer, she grabbed a business card from her purse and stuck it into the doorjamb by the handle. Every FSBO is a potential client, her mentor had said repeatedly when she was in training. Gabe was nothing if not proactive. She got back in her car and headed toward town feeling somewhat accomplished with her scouting efforts.

  Also on her list of Sunday chores was a stop by The Château to meet Will Thaxton and see about securing a more convenient living space. She had been staying in a hotel out near the interstate, but the distance was taking its toll. She was ready to settle into the town and start looking for a more permanent place to live. She could kill two birds with one stone looking for something for Suvi, as well as for herself. Several people had mentioned the local B & B, which was convenient to her office, being only a few blocks away. She liked the idea of walking to work every day.

  She had called ahead to let Will know she was stopping by, but she was still surprised when he met her on the porch.

  “You must be Ms. Warren,” Will said, offering a firm, though slightly wet, handshake.

  “Call me Gabe,” she said, and patted her hand dry on the leg of her jeans.

  “Sorry about the hand. I’ve been peeling potatoes for supper. Come on in, I’ll show you around.”

  Gabe followed Will down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Will asked.

  “Got decaf?”

  “Not in the pot, but I can make some. Won’t take a second.”

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Gabe protested.

  “No trouble at all. That pot has been sitting for an hour anyway. I could do with a cup of decaf myself.” Will washed his hands at the sink and dried them on a hand towel dangling from his belt loop.

  “So, do you provide supper, too?” Gabe asked. “I thought it was just breakfast.”

  Will laughed and shook his head.

  “It’s supposed to be, but I get a little carried away sometimes. I always tell my guests not to count on it, but the truth is, it’s hard to cook for one.”

  “I hear you,” Gabe said, nodding.

  Will rinsed the coffee pot and put it back on the burner.

  “Sit, sit,” he said to Gabe. “As soon as I get this brewing, I’ll take you on the big tour.”

  “I’m in no hurry at all.” She sat at the long kitchen table and let her eyes wander around the spacious room. The cook stove was a massive mid-century affair with four ovens, one surely just for warming, she thought. The cabinets were painted white and the floor was covered in black and white tiles laid out in a diamond pattern. Everything was clean, if a little worn.

  “So, I know you told me you were looking for a place to stay for at least a month or two,” Will yanked Gabe out of her musings. “I hear you’re opening a real estate office, is that right?”

  “You got it. I’ll eventually find something permanent, but I want to take my time and get the right thing,” Gabe said. “Not to mention that I kind of need to see if this is even going to work here. I’m having a few doubts, to be honest.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Will pushed the brew button on the coffee pot and joined Gabe at the table. “My wife and I fell in love with this place the moment we saw it, but we didn’t want to sell our house in Minnesota right away. We thought we’d give it some time, you know, have a backup plan.”

  “So y’all are happy with it now?”

  “Well, I am,” Will said. “She’s gone now.”

  “Yikes…and you stayed?”

  “No, no…I said that wrong. She didn’t leave me…well, she left me, but not like that. What I mean to say, and I’m saying it badly…” Will sighed. “She passed away.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Gabe said.

  “Thank you,” Will said. “I keep thinking someday it will get easier to say, but apparently not. I still just trip over the words.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Gosh, at least five years or so.”
Will rose to get cream from the refrigerator, grabbed the sugar bowl from the cabinet and placed both by the gurgling pot.

  “That’s a long time to handle all this by yourself,” Gabe said. “Just a little cream in mine, please. No sugar.”

  “That’s how Beanie liked it, too,” Will said.

  “Beanie? Never heard that one before.”

  “Short for Beatrice,” Will said.

  “Beanie Thaxton,” Gabe said. “That’s a great name.”

  “What?” Will spun to look at Gabe. His eyes squinted in bewilderment. “Oh, no, no. Beanie wasn’t my wife. Beanie just lived here a while. She’s gone now, too.”

  “Oh,” Gabe winced at her gaff. “How awful for you…”

  “Ahhh, shoot. I’m an idiot.” Will shook his head. “Gone. Moved out. Not dead.”

  “Coffee smells great!” Gabe was not good at deflection.

  Will laughed out loud.

  “That was smooth. Here you go.” Will handed Gabe a hand-thrown pottery mug, one of the ones he used for important guests, which, if he were being honest, were rare.

  “Thank you so much,” Gabe said and took the steaming cup of coffee from his hands.

  “So, let’s go see the place, shall we? All of the larger rooms with separate baths are upstairs.” Will chatted as he led the way out of the kitchen and up the staircase. “I have two rooms available for long-term rental. One of them is Beanie’s old room. She used to live here and helped out in the kitchen, and with some light housekeeping and such.”

  “Ah,” Gabe said.

  “She moved out to help another family in need. No biggie,” Will shrugged.

  “I see.” Gabe was not sure what to make of this information, but she got the feeling that Beanie was more important to Will than just kitchen help.

  “Okay, so this room is a common area, though we try to keep it a quiet space. There is a computer, a fax machine and a phone with long distance included.”

  “My cell phone works in town, so I doubt I’ll need any of that, but it’s good to know,” Gabe said.

  Will opened the first door off the common area and held it open without looking in. “This is Beanie’s room. It has a nice-sized bathroom en suite, I guess you call it these days, and a large closet.”

  Gabe had barely peeked her head inside the door when Will closed it so quickly she had to step back out of the way.

  “I think the next one would be more to your liking,” Will said.

  He led the way to a second door and opened it, waving her inside with his free hand. Gabe entered the room and immediately felt at home. The room was decorated sparsely, but with great care, neither too frilly nor too masculine, but just the right touches of comfort and style. Through the open bathroom door, she could see a deep claw foot tub resting on black and white tile. Tongue and groove wainscoting was painted white, and the plastered walls above it were periwinkle blue. Gabe already had visions of restful evenings that would begin with a nice long soak, a glass of red wine, and a good book.

  “I’ll take it,” she said. “When can I move in?”

  “Whenever you like,” Will said, “but don’t you want to know how much it is?”

  “I’m sure it’s reasonable,” Gabe said. “I’ll move in this week.”

  And with that, Gabe Warren had an apartment a block from her office.

  39

  Daddy’s Home

  After a long, sleepless night at his wife’s bedside, Bubba John Atwater returned home just before noon on Sunday to a spotless house and five bone-tired children who all lay, still in their pajamas, in various poses across the living room. Not one of them looked up when he entered until Beanie came out of the girls’ room with an armload of dirty clothes from the night before and nearly collided with him. This startled her so badly she screamed and flung the clothes upward and outward, sending a pair of Daisy’s panties into a spiral of pink that ended on Bubba’s shoulder.

  “Daddy!” came the chorus from the living room.

  “Lord help!” Beanie panted. “You like to of scared me to death.”

  The little ones dragged and dropped blankets and fuzzy toys across the room as they rushed their father, pushing and shoving to wrap themselves around any unoccupied appendage. This left one arm unencumbered, which Bubba John used to pull B-Kay into a long and healing hug. He kissed the top of her head, and then her forehead when she leaned back and looked up at him.

  “Mama’s gonna be okay, baby.”

  With that, B-Kay buried her face in her daddy’s neck and sobbed.

  Meanwhile, Daisy wailed into Bubba John’s kneecap, and Tater repeatedly punched his thigh saying Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Bitty pulled at his hand for a minute, gave up and started counting the freckles on his forearm. Beanie broke the spell.

  “Y’all get off your daddy now and sit down at the table,” she said to the kids, then looked at Bubba John. “I got lunch fixed. You hungry?”

  “Starved,” he said, tucking B-Kay’s head under his chin.

  Moments later, after a loud snuffling breath in, B-Kay pulled away and gagged. “Shew! Why do you smell like pee?”

  Beanie plucked the offending pair of panties off Bubba John’s shoulder.

  “Here, you guys help me get these clothes to the back porch. Come on now, pick up something,” Beanie said.

  After a full day of chores yesterday, even the little ones had gotten the hang of taking orders. All three of them snapped to attention and quickly gathered the rest of the fallen articles of clothing, which finally relieved Bubba John of his shackles.

  “Gross,” B-Kay complained, still sniffing back tears.

  “Glad to see you, too,” Bubba John said. “Mama said to tell you to stop worrying.”

  “How’d she know I was worried?” B-Kay wiped her nose on the tail of her t-shirt.

  “She’s your mama, that’s how.” Bubba John spun his daughter by the shoulder and gave her a little push toward the dining room. “Sit down and I’ll tell you all what’s going on.”

  After a general round-up of the straggling siblings, Bubba John explained the situation with their mother.

  “Mama’s real sick and they need to keep her there for a while. When they get the infection under control, they’re going to move her to a rehab center where the nurses can take care of her better, and the doctors can keep an eye on what’s going on. Mama said to tell you all how much she loves you and to be good for Miss Beanie while she’s in the hospital.”

  Beanie was in the kitchen tucking hot dogs into buns lined up in a row. She turned and, looking as white as the paper plates lining the countertop, said, “I knew it was my fault she got so sick. I didn’t take good enough care of her, did I?”

  Bubba John looked up from the head of the table. “No, Beanie, that’s not it at all. I promise. It’s like they said, she just needed skilled nursing all along. They didn’t want to send her home when they did, but Sweet insisted.”

  “But I wasn’t skilled…”

  “You’re not a nurse, Beanie,” Bubba John said. “And besides, you had enough to worry about with these guys. Please don’t blame yourself. Honestly, if anyone is to blame, it’s me. We’ve been asking you to do too much all along.”

  T-Ray, still groggy from lounging all morning, finally piped up. “Well, that changed yesterday, Dad. Miss Beanie taught us how to do laundry.”

  “Well, good, it’s about time you and B pitched in a little more.”

  “Not just me and B-Kay, Dad,” T-Ray said. “All of us, even Daisy!”

  “Really! I may have to see that one to believe it.”

  Beanie brought the first three plates to the table. “T-Ray, could you get the rest of them plates for me, and Bitty, you can get the ketchup and mustard outta the ‘frigerator.”

  “She’s not playing, Dad,” B-Kay smiled for the first time since he’d gotten home. “Daisy’s folding the underwear. We tried socks, but she just couldn’t get the hang of it. Turns out Bitty’s got an eye for matching up s
ize and color. Once we convinced her she could still line them up in order after they were twisted together, she did great.”

  T-Ray came back balancing three plates just like Beanie had done. “Yeah, and then she reorganized the refrigerator the same way. Now we can all find stuff, instead of asking Mom every time.”

  “Mama’s gonna be so happy to hear that,” Bubba John said as Bitty sidled up beside him with condiments in hand. “Great job, kiddo.”

  Daisy banged on the table with both hands. “I fold dee undies, Daddy!”

  B-Kay reached out one hand to still both of Daisy’s.

  “You did good, baby girl,” B-Kay said, then looked up at her father at the end of the table and grinned. “Though folding may not be the exact word.”

  “Lord, B-Kay, you sound more like your mama every day,” Bubba John replied, shaking his head.”

  “I take that as a compliment,” B-Kay said, and took a great big bite of her hotdog.

  After lunch, Bubba John stretched out on the couch with Daisy and Tater, hoping to distract them into taking a nap. It worked for the youngest, but Tater waited for his father to start snoring, then rolled off of the edge of the couch and onto the floor to play with his race cars. T-Ray went outside to shoot at tin cans with his pellet rifle. B-Kay got herself and Bitty cleaned up and ready to take Beanie into town to run a few errands.

  They met back in the kitchen and assessed the situation. Beanie pulled her grocery list from the magnet pad on the refrigerator.

  “I’m sure I’m missin’ somethin’, but hopefully I’ll think of it before I get outta the store.” Beanie said. “Where’s T-Ray?”

  “He’s outside somewhere.”

  “Well, we can’t leave Tater here with your daddy sleepin’. How about if we take him, too, and y’all can play over at the park while I’m shoppin’?”

  “Works for me,” B-Kay said. “Come on, Tate, you’re going with us.”