“Two, and you?”
“Nope, and don’t intend to get married either. Men are a pain in the you know what.”
He chuckled again and turned off the car engine. “All men?”
“All the ones I know, except my dad. I’m no feminist. I still like flowers and manners, but guys these days are too bossy. I dated a guy for a while and it was like I had a third parent. Don’t do this and don’t do that. It made me crazy. He doesn’t like me traveling alone either, and said I couldn’t go. He lost. He also said he would miss me, but I haven’t missed him for one single second.”
“Some women are bossy too, you know.”
“Well, they shouldn’t be. They should...” before she could finish, a speeding blue pickup truck came up from behind them on the service road, sped past, and came close enough to make Michael’s sports car wobble. “Good grief, this place is scary.”
“That’s just Crazy Eddie. He likes to show off,” said Michael.
“Crazy Eddie, huh? I’ll have to watch out for him.”
“Where are you thinking of staying?”
“Where do you suggest?”
“Birdie’s Bed and Breakfast is just up the road. It’s clean and Birdie will take good care of you. How long are you planning to be here?”
“Depends on how much it costs to fix my car. This little vacation idea of mine is turning out to be a lot more expensive than I expected. I’m looking to find a temporary job for a few days. Need anyone at your factory?”
“Sorry, no. I hear Mariam Eggleston needs help.”
“Doing what?”
“Selling books. She owns a used book store.”
Tiffany nodded. “That doesn’t sound too hard.”
The bright headlights of the approaching tow truck were easy to spot. It made the same U-turn Michael made, pulled ahead of her car, and then backed up to it. “About time,” she grumbled.
“You in a hurry?”
“You’re right, I’ve got no place to go just now.” She opened the door and then graced Michael with her friendliest smile. “Thanks for the lift,” She closed the door and waited until the tow truck driver came to the back of his truck before she approached him.
“Hey, pretty girl,” said Lucky with a silly grin. “You need a tow?”
A stupid cliché and now a stupid question. Tiffany couldn’t help herself. “Nope, I’ll just carry it into town.” She watched a slow smile spread across his face.
“You got me on that one,” Lucky said.
His was a pleasant face now that his smile looked a little less silly. At least he was closer to her age and he did say she was pretty. She supposed she could forgive his stupid question this once. “Don’t let it happen again. Do you fix cars too?”
“Yep, if I can. What happened?” He looked at the front and back tires on the driver’s side and then walked around to check the other side.
“It just quit on me and before you ask, no I didn’t forget to buy gas. Stupid car just conked out.”
“Well, I’ll take a look at it in the morning. There’s a bed and...”
“I’ve already heard.”
“No you haven’t. I was going to tell you not to stay there.”
“Oh. Why not?”
He dropped his voice to a whisper when he saw Michael get out of his car and head their way. “Just take my word for it.”
“You want a ride to the Bed and Breakfast?” Michael asked.
“I saw a hotel in town,” she answered. “I think I’d rather stay there. I’d feel safer.”
Michael shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He looked at his watch and whistled, “I’m late. Tiffany, do you mind riding back to town with Lucky?”
“Not at all. I need to get a suitcase out of my car anyway.”
Michael was halfway back to his car when he said, “Catch you later.” He got in, started his engine and drove away.
Tiffany turned her attention back to Lucky. “I’m a little short of cash but Michael said I could probably get a job at the bookstore.”
“The used bookstore?” Lucky asked as he knelt down and looked under her car.
“Uh huh.”
“My mom loves that place. She’s always got her face in a book. If you take the job, you’ll meet her soon.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nora,” he answered as he stood back up.
“Well, if I get the job...”
“If you want it, you’ll get it,” Lucky assured her. “Mariam Eggleston always needs help.”
“It’s true, then,” said Tiffany, “it’s not what you know but who you know.” Clichés were okay as long as she was the one saying them.
AS SOON AS MICHAEL got back to town, he swung into the nearest parking place, pulled the company’s paper ledgers out of his briefcase and got out. As always, the lights were still on in the second floor offices of Earl’s attorney. No matter how late Michael turned up, the Lawyer was always there waiting. Michael walked across the street, opened the door and then took the stairs to the second floor two at a time.
Keeping a ledger on paper was nonsense and had been for years. There were plenty of accurate software programs available to handle the accounting, one of which he used daily, but Earl insisted on a paper version. He also insisted his attorney pay all the bills, which Michael regarded as a slap in the face. A couple of tug-of-wars with the attorney gained him nothing, so Michael simply complied with his father’s wishes.
He walked into the office, set the papers on the attorney’s desk and then left without so much as acknowledging the attorney’s existence.
TIFFANY OPENED THE trunk, pulled her suitcase and laptop out, and then closed the trunk lid. Unlike the back seat, the things in her trunk were neatly arranged. “Mind if I put these in your truck?”
“Not at all.” While she did that, he pushed the button that let the hydraulic-powered stinger arm lower and then unfold. Next, he positioned it so the wheel cradles were in the right place. He checked the brackets in front and behind each of the front wheels, and then secured them using steel pins. Finished, he again used the hydraulics to lift the front of Tiffany’s car.
“That was fast,” said Tiffany.
“Yep, climb in.” he got back in the driver’s seat and then grinned when she had to try twice to step up high enough to get in on the passenger side. At last, she slid into the seat, shoved her suitcase aside so she could get her feet in, laid her laptop on her lap, and closed the door.
He extended his hand, “Ben Coulter, mechanic, tow truck driver, and all around nice guy.”
Just then, a bus load of cheering boys drove down the freeway followed by a long line of cars heading away from town. “The winning team?”
“Yep. We lose to them every year, and every year we still hope we won’t.”
“I love all kinds of high school sports, when’s the next game?”
He started the truck, waited until she had her seat belt on, slowly drove forward and checked both side mirrors to make certain her car was securely in tow. “Next Friday.”
She paused. It wasn’t a very long pause, but then it never was with Tiffany. “Why does Michael call you Lucky?”
Ben glanced at the side of her attractive face and then looked straight ahead. “A semi broadsided my old tow truck and rolled it four times. I don’t know how, but I got out without a scratch. The tow truck wasn’t that lucky though. I tried to fix it, but gave up and bought this new one instead.”
“Why did you tell me not to get a room at the Bed and Breakfast?”
“Well, that’s not easy to explain.”
“You mean it’s a hookup bar,” she asked.
“Not normally. It’s just that something is brewing out at Birdie’s. I don’t know what exactly, but I’d stay away if I were you.”
“Murder, mugging or drug deals?”
“More like ex-wives.”
“Oh man, that sounds like murder to me. Thanks for the warning. My dad could come looking for me any d
ay now and I sure wouldn’t want him finding me in a place full of ex-wives.”
Ben cautiously left the service road and pulled onto the Interstate. “Did you run away?”
“No, and I call him all the time, but I made the mistake of telling him my piece of junk broke down. I just didn’t tell him where, thank goodness.”
“How old are you?”
“Old enough to be out on my own, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll be nineteen soon.”
He didn’t bother to hide his attempt at teasing her. “That old, huh?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
She grinned. “Bet you’ll be needing a crutch soon. I saw a hotel downtown. Do you recommend I stay there?”
“There’s a newer hotel west of town, but it’s expensive. If you don’t mind an older building, I think you’ll find the service friendly and the rooms clean in the one downtown. Is that where you want me to drop you off?”
“Yes please.” At the next exit, Ben turned off the Interstate and as he drove down Main Street, she looked but Earl was not there. “Michael’s father was sitting on a bench when I came into town. Michael said his dad hasn’t spoken in years. Does he speak to you?”
“No and not to anyone else that I know of. He’s not really that old either. He just looks all worn out.”
“I wonder how he does it? I couldn’t keep my mouth shut for a whole hour, let alone several years.” As soon as Ben stopped in front of the hotel, she thanked him, set her laptop aside, opened the door and slid down. She grabbed her laptop and suitcase, and then looked down the street. “Where do I find you in the morning?”
Ben pointed straight ahead. “A few blocks that way.” He dug in his shirt pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She closed the door and considered her next move as she watched him pull away. Something was brewing at Birdie’s and she was tempted to get a room there just to see what was happening. However, she soon thought better of the idea. Tiffany needed to plug in her cellphone and let her dad know she wasn’t dead yet – before he called out the Cavalry. She abruptly turned around, opened the hotel door, and marched up to the registration desk.
THE NEON SIGN NEXT to the red brick, two-story converted motel simply said, “Birdie’s.” White decorative windows gave the place a warm classic look while farms in green fields behind it served to further enhance its inviting appearance. Located a mile east of town on the south side of the Interstate next to the truck stop, a sign on the door promised a good night’s sleep and a hardy breakfast. An underpass made the place easily accessible, parking was rarely a problem, and many a trucker made a point of stopping by, if for no other reason than just to say hello.
Birdie had ten bedrooms to offer her customers, a private two room suite for herself, and a spacious kitchen/bar combination in the back. She hired maids to do the cleaning and paid them well, but expenses were high and with a free breakfast, she barely broke even most months. It was the bar that paid all the bills and allowed her to save enough for that grand holiday she planned to take someday.
The floor in the establishment’s lobby was covered in fake off-white marble Woodbury tile that matched the ones on the soft tile peg board behind the solid oak check-in counter. It was there Birdie kept all the room keys. Those with green tags attached were clean and ready to rent. The others were not. She often admired her choice of soft blue furniture adding just enough color in the throw pillows to offset the blue. She kept the counter polished, wore frilly dresses that made her feel young and feminine, and expertly applied her makeup which she touched up at least once or twice a day.
A year younger than Michael Woodbury, Birdie was blonde, petite and some thought quite beautiful. Others did not agree, but they were mostly women who did not regard her as an upstanding member of their society anyway. She didn’t care. As long as they didn’t bother her, she wasn’t interested in bothering them. Blue Falls was the only home she’d known, and as often as she considered selling the Bed and Breakfast and making a clean break of it, she stayed.
A clean break? What a joke that was. Birdie was trapped in that small, unforgiving town, had been for years, and there was no way out.
IT WAS EARLY EVENING when Jolie Woodbury burst through the front door of the empty Bed and Breakfast lobby, dropped her suitcase in the middle of the floor, and shouted, “Birdie, I need a room!”
Tending bar and chatting with two women in the dimly lit backroom, Birdie rolled her eyes. “Knew that was coming.”
“How?” a woman seated on the other side of the bar asked.
“Michael started ranting about it this afternoon and Alex couldn’t wait to spread the word.”
This time the shout from the lobby sounded more like the scream of a wounded animal. “BIRDIE? ARE YOU EVEN HERE, BIRDIE?”
Birdie removed her apron, laid it across the bar, and then went to greet her newest guest. “I’m here, Jolie.” She didn’t bother to sign the young woman in. Instead, she picked up the suitcase, put it behind the counter, and then took hold of Jolie’s arm. “Want a drink?”
Tears already rimmed the bottoms of her eyes when Jolie nodded. “I don’t know if I am supposed to cry, kill him, or throw up.”
“Killing him would probably be less messy.” Birdie tried to guide Jolie toward the back, but she resisted.
“Are the others here?”
“Are they not always?”
A lone tear rolled down Jolie’s cheek. “I can’t, I just can face them yet.”
“Might as well get it over with.” Birdie more firmly gripped Jolie’s arm and began to pull. “Believe me, the medicine they can provide is just what the doctor ordered at a time like this.” At last, the young woman let Birdie take her into the bar.
Not unlike thousands of other drinking establishments, stools faced the bar, tables and chairs filled the rest of the room, and strategically placed light fixtures on the walls offered anonymity in the back to those who wished it. On this particular evening, it was unusual for the two women sitting at the bar to be Birdie’s only customers. Birdie paused a minute to let Jolie’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and then ushered her to the barstool. She returned to her place behind the bar and put her apron back on. “Gin and tonic?”
“Heavy on the Gin, please.” Jolie set her purse on the bar, found a tissue inside, wiped her tears, and then finally leaned forward to acknowledge Pamela, Michael’s first wife, and then Andrea, his second. Each of the women were small in stature, pretty, blonde, and well-dressed. To outsiders, the similarities suggested they were sisters, but nothing was farther from the truth.
Sitting beside her, Andrea patted the back of Jolie’s hand. “Look at it this way. Now you can go back to having brown hair instead of Michael’s favorite shade of bleach blonde.”
“You haven’t,” Jolie reminded her.
“True, but I like it this color.”
“Hey,” said Pamela. “Maybe all three of us should go back to our original color.”
“Maybe you should,” Birdie agreed “Of course if you did, you would be the talk of the town.”
Andrea scoffed, “Like we aren’t already.”
“Own it, Pamela,” said Birdie. “You love being the talk of the town or you would have breezed right out of this place years ago.”
“True,” Pamela agreed, “but how could I? Michael is so entertaining and I would hate missing the day he finally gets what he’s got coming to him.”
“What’s the deal with blonde hair, anyway?” Jolie asked.
Immediately, the other two wives uncurled a finger and pointed directly across the bar at Birdie.
“Wait a minute, you can’t blame that on me,” Birdie complained. “This is totally, 100 percent natural hair.”
“Sure it is,” Pamela giggled. “Sorry, my darling, but doing it yourself doesn’t make it natural.”
Jolie sighed. “Wow, I always thought it was natural.”
“It
is,” Birdie whispered as she set Jolie’s drink down in front of her. It was hardly a double. In fact, it was less than a full shot of gin.
“You expecting a crowd tonight?” Andrea asked Birdie.
“Hopefully. Friday nights are normally my most profitable, especially when there is...” Birdie had already said too much.
“Especially when there is what?” Jolie asked.
Birdie glanced at the other two women, and then folded her arms and decided to tell the truth. “A rumor.”
“Spread by my gallant and always rumor-mill accommodating son,” Pamela scoffed.
“About me?” When no one answered, Jolie slowly laid her head on the bar and closed her eyes. “Oh no. I just found out myself.”
“You mean you didn’t ask him for a divorce?” Birdie asked.
Jolie lifted her head back up. “Sort of. I mean he got me so confused I probably did.”
“Well,” said Andrea, “I’ll give him that much at least. He lets us save face by pretending we couldn’t stand to live with him another minute. It’s a small one, but it is a favor and makes the divorce go through far more easily. Of course, who in this town would think otherwise?”
“Such a chivalrous man, my Michael,” Pamela mocked. “Meanwhile, all we get is alimony.”
Andrea sighed, “And child support for as long as we can keep the kids from growing up. I’m about to lose that fight with Gloria.”
“Can I get the house?” Jolie asked.
Pamela answered, “Nope, the house is in the name of the man who paid for it – Earl Woodbury. Sorry, but you’ll have to settle for alimony. Michael lets people think it, but he’s not even part-owner of the company. He just works there like everyone else.”
Jolie was quiet for a while and the others didn’t talk either while she tried to come to grips with her situation. At last she asked, “Where do I go in the meantime? I can’t stay here and take the chance of running into Michael.”
“There is a furnished condo just down the street from me that will be empty next week,” said Pamela. “In the meantime, you can stay at my place. I’ve got an art show to attend in Des Moines and I’ll be gone a couple of days. That should give you enough time to decide what you want to do. Want me to see if the condo is rented yet?”
Love and Suspicion Page 3
