For Your Love

by Beverly Jenkins

  “I assume your lawyer’s handled the name changes on all your documents and accounts?” Bernadine asked.

  “Yes, from Social Security to bank accounts.”

  “Good. No word from Riley, I hope?”

  Her face soured. “He called collect the other day, but I refused to accept the charges. I’m guessing he and that hog aren’t taking Hollywood by storm the way he’d envisioned.”

  Bernadine agreed. He’d taken the hog to Hollywood hoping to make him a star like Arnold of Green Acres fame. The only reason he’d call was if he needed something, like maybe a bus ticket home. She wasn’t planning on accepting any collect calls, either.

  “I’m hoping you aren’t going to take his calls.”

  “You just read my mind.”

  Genevieve smiled. “Good. Now, when do we ladies get to meet the babies?”

  “I’m hoping Kelly and Bobby will be at tonight’s town meeting. If they come, I’m sure they’ll bring the twins.”

  “I can’t wait.” Genevieve had no children, and she considered that fact one of the biggest disappointments of her marriage. Since being told the young family would be moving to town, she’d been chomping at the bit to meet them.

  “Anything else on your mind?” asked Bernadine.

  “Not really, but I think the next time Marie and I go to Vegas, I’m going to get a makeover. Nothing drastic, but getting rid of Riley has made me think about all the things I might have done or could’ve been had I not been his glorified maid my whole life.” She leaned forward and whispered. “Maybe I’ll be a cougar.”

  Bernadine choked on her coffee.

  Gen added, “Crystal suggested I listen to Beyoncé or Mary J. She said they’re very inspiring for the young women of today.”

  Bernadine was pretty sure Genevieve had no business taking life advice from her seventeen-­year-­old daughter, but kept the thought to herself. “I like Mary J.’s music.”

  “I do too. Amari’s going to help me pick out a new phone so I can put music on it, and a speaker to play it through when I don’t want to use the earbuds.”

  “You certainly have the vernacular down, Ms. Gibbs,” Bernadine said sassily.

  “I want to enjoy my golden years, so I’m reinventing myself.”

  “You go, girl.”

  Smiling, Genevieve got to her feet and zipped up her claret-­red down coat. “I’m planning to do just that. See you at tonight’s meeting.”

  “Bye.”

  After Genevieve took her leave, Bernadine thought back on the cougar remark and laughed. While married, Gen had been a model of decorum, but after the divorce she’d turned into quite the feisty woman—­to the point of treating Riley to a mean right hook at the Dog last year that left the former mayor knocked out cold on the floor. She was presently in a relationship with Mal’s best friend, Clay Dobbs, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Ideally, Gen would find someone to love her as fiercely as she longed to be loved.

  Bernadine’s phone sounded with the opening notes of Sade’s “Smooth Operator,” and she smiled. Speaking of love . . . “Hey, Mal.”

  “Hey, sweet thing. How’s turning the world going this morning?”

  His voice always made her melt inside. “So far, so good. How’re you?”

  “Wishing I was there with you instead of here working on the books.”

  “Aww. How about we have lunch?”

  “You really going to show up?”

  She chuckled. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Twice last week, due to the weight of her workload, she’d had to cry off from their daily lunch date, and he’d been rubbing her nose in it since.

  “No, I’m not. Fine older gentleman like myself is not used to being stood up by the woman he loves.”

  “You’re a mess.”

  “But I’m your mess.”

  “Yes, you are, and I’m glad about it. I won’t stand you up. Promise.”

  “Then that’s good enough for me. You have a good rest of the morning, and I’ll see you later. Love you, girl.”

  “Love you more.”

  Disconnecting, Bernadine sat back and smiled.

  Lily stuck her head in the door. “My hubba-­hubba hubby back yet?”

  “No.”

  “You looked awfully happy there. You must’ve been talking to the former gigolo of Graham County.”

  Mal’s reputation as a lady’s man had been the stuff of legends. “Operative word is former.”

  “And that’s a good thing. It takes a real woman to make an old player turn in his card.” Lily grew serious. “You’re exactly what’s he’s been needing all his life.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “Yes, he is. His son’s not too shabby, either.”

  Bernadine agreed. In many ways Mal and Trent were as different as night and day, in others, alike as two peas in the pod. She and Lily were both blessed by the love of the July men.

  Lily asked. “Any idea what Seabiscuit wants?”

  “Only the devil knows.”

  “True. Let me know when he gets in, if you see him first.”

  “Will do.”

  Turning to her e-­mail, she opened a message from Gary Clark, the manager of the town’s grocery store. He wanted to know what was going on with Bernadine’s baby sister, Diane Willis. She’d moved in with Bernadine and Crystal this past fall after being served with divorce papers by her long-­suffering husband because she was spoiled, demanding, and not a very nice person. She’d left town right after Thanksgiving to spend time with her son Marlon and his partner, Anthony, at their home in Maui. That was almost ten days ago. Bernadine hadn’t heard a peep from Diane since, and neither had Gary, her boss. He’d be looking to hire her replacement if she didn’t touch base soon, and Bernadine couldn’t blame him. She hoped that Diane had found employment in Maui and would thus be out of Bernadine’s hair, but she doubted she’d be that lucky. Although her sister had reconciled with her children and with Bernadine, she had a ways to go to completely shed her sometimes selfish attitude. There was no telling what her intentions were concerning her job or the future. Bernadine would put in a call to Maui later.

  The next e-­mail was from Sheriff Dalton. After reading the content, Bernadine sighed with irritation. Local law enforcement still hadn’t located Tommy Stewart, the skinny, smelly young man who’d showed up in her office a few days before Thanksgiving threatening to sue Henry Adams because he’d supposedly found a cockroach in a sandwich he purchased at the town’s new grocery store. When a review of the security camera showed him spreading roaches through the aisles like a perverted Johnny Appleseed, he disappeared before he could be arrested. Bernadine and her ­people were pretty sure Astrid Wiggins had put him up to the nasty stunt—­he’d come within a hairbreadth of admitting as much. They were also convinced that Astrid had helped him fly the coop so she wouldn’t be implicated, but until he was found, the prosecutor could do nothing further with the case. Astrid—­aka Seabiscuit, aka Secretariat—­was determined to put Henry Adams in its place, and although Bernadine hated to admit it, she’d won that round. When local hermit Cephas Patterson left a bag of gold to Roni and Reg’s daughter Zoey this past summer, Astrid spread word of the boon, and every gold-­seeking crazy in the state had descended on Henry Adams like one of the plagues of Egypt. A riot ensued, and the town was left to pick up the pieces of their nearly destroyed recreation center. Astrid had won that round, as well.

  The only bright spot for Bernadine in this mini-­war was a Thanksgiving Day newspaper article penned by Austin Wiggins, Franklin’s former mayor and Astrid’s soon-­to-­be-­ex-­husband. To get back at Astrid for booting him from office, Austin had confirmed in print that her family had paid him to marry her. He then left town with his girlfriend Lindy, a pretty, baby-­voiced blonde who’d been runner-­up in the county fair’s M
s. Heifer contest. Bernadine was sure Astrid was in the market for a hit man to put him away, but in the meantime, the mayor of Franklin been turned into a laughingstock.

  Still, Astrid was a formidable opponent. Though Bernadine had no desire to go toe-­to-­toe with her again, she didn’t want to lose any more rounds. Astrid’s earlier call about wanting to meet with Trent made her wonder what ol’ Horse Face had up her sleeve this time.

  It didn’t take her long to find out.

  “She’s cutting all ties to Henry Adams,” Trent reported to her and Lily after he and Bobby had arrived and taken seats in Bernadine’s office, and Bobby and Lily had been introduced.

  “What does that mean?” asked Bernadine.

  Trent explained, and when he was done, Bernadine and Lily stared, stunned. “But we have a signed contract for their fire department’s aid,” Bernadine stormed.

  “I know, but now that she’s mayor, she’s decided she doesn’t have to honor it.”

  “That’s unconscionable,” Lily snapped. “Two of her citizens died in that fire last spring.”

  Trent shrugged. “Guess she doesn’t care about that either, or the other folks in the county working on their GEDs, or our kids using the library, or the ­people enrolled in the continuing education classes. None of that.”

  “Unbelievable.” Bernadine thought for a moment. “We’ll have to take up the slack. Let’s put this on the agenda for the meeting tonight and figure out a way to work around her.”

  “Agreed,” Trent said. “I’ll be calling the Board of Regents to see if she can summarily exclude ­people from the GED program.”

  “Good idea. Maybe they’ll slap her with a big fat fine.” She turned her attention to Bobby. “Did you get your car?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Met Sheriff Dalton, too. He gave me his card.”

  “Good for Will. Were you with Trent at the meeting with Mayor Wiggins?”

  He nodded.

  “And your assessment?”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  “Give the young man a prize,” she said solemnly. “The monthly town meeting is at the Dog this evening. You and Kelly might want to attend so you can meet everyone.”

  “I know. Tamar already said she wanted us there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Trent stood. “I’m going to let Bob follow me back to his place just to make sure he knows the way. When I get back, we can talk more.”

  She nodded, and the men left.

  Once they were gone, Lily turned to Bernadine. “I say we go over to Franklin and set her hair on fire.”

  “I’ll get the matches.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  Bobby turned left out of the Power Plant’s parking lot onto Henry Adams’s main street and followed Trent’s black pickup past the school, the recreation center, and the lone church. Ms. Brown hadn’t lied about how small the place was. Less than a minute later they came up on a newish-­looking building with a large glass front and a low roof with a sign reading Dog and Cow. He assumed that was the diner, but wondered what was up with the name. Figuring he’d get the lowdown on it sometime soon, he stayed with Trent as they hooked another left and headed north and east onto July Road. Less than five minutes later they were driving up the gravel road that led to the trailers.

  Bobby parked. Trent rolled down his window to call out, “I’ll see you tonight,” and he roared away in the big truck. Turning off the engine, Bobby got out and stood a moment to admire their new ride. Still smiling, he popped the trunk to grab the bags holding Kiki’s new coat and all the other gear Trent purchased before heading up the steps and putting his key in the door. He was anxious to show Kiki their new wheels and tell her about his morning, but he found her sitting and talking with a woman he didn’t know.

  “Hey, Bobby,” Kiki said cheerily.

  “Hey.”

  The twins were crawling around on the carpet. Bobby Jr. had a cloth block in his mouth. Picking them up in turn, Bobby planted kisses on their cheeks. Their little smiles lit up his heart.

  The visitor smiled.

  “This is Reverend Paula Grant,” Kiki said. “She’s the priest here, and lives in one of the other trailers.”

  Reverend Paula stood and extended her hand for a shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you—­welcome to Henry Adams. You have a lovely family.”

  “Thank you. Pleasure to meet you, too.” He and Kiki had never been much on churchgoing. He hoped the reverend hadn’t come over to bug them about attending.

  Kiki said, “Reverend Paula and I were talking about having the twins baptized.”

  He froze. He looked at his girl and then at the priest. “Really?”

  Kiki nodded. “I know it’s not something we’ve talked about, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  “Okay.” He knew he sounded doubtful, but couldn’t help it. This was news to him.

  “I only stopped by to introduce myself and to welcome you,” Reverend Paula said, “so let me get going. I hope to see you at the town meeting this evening. Bobby, again, pleasure meeting you.”

  “Same here.”

  The reverend slipped on her parka and departed.

  “Did she put you up to this?”

  “No,” Kelly replied with an attitude. “I do have a mind of my own, you know.”

  “Then why this talk of baptizing all of a sudden?”

  “It’s not all of a sudden. I grew up Catholic. I’ve missed being in church.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since my mama said sinners like me and you shouldn’t be in church.”

  He studied the hurt and anger on her face. “She said that to you?”

  She nodded tightly.

  He walked over and gently pulled her in against him and held her close. He kissed the top of her head. “You never told me that before.”

  She shrugged. “That’s because I believed her. But when I talked to Reverend Paula, she basically said if I wanted to come, I’d be welcomed.”

  Bobby felt like his world was on a roller coaster, and it was all he could do to hang on. He was in a new state, wearing a new coat, driving a new car, and had the business card of the county sheriff in his pocket. Now his girl wanted to attend church. What other changes would this new life bring? “If you want to go to church, you should go.”

  “You mean that?” Kiki asked, looking up at him.

  “What am I going to say, no?”

  She smiled and snuggled back into his chest. Tiara began pulling herself up on his leg. She was getting good at it, but her brother seemed content to simply watch for now. Bobby reached down and picked her up. “Do you want to go to church with your mama, Ti? Daddy’s not going, but you and your brother can. That okay with you?”

  She clapped happily, as she did for everything these days, and he grinned. “I think that’s a yes.”

  “New coat,” Kiki said, assessing him.

  “Yes, and one for you in the bag.”

  Her eyes widened. He looked on, pleased, as she tried it on. “It fits.”

  “Of course it does. You think I don’t know what size you wear?”

  Bobby told her about the conversation he and Trent had about the coats, adding. “I have to admit, the one I have on now is way warmer than the leather.”

  “So how’d the rest of the morning go?” Kiki asked, still admiring her new coat.

  “Kind of crazy, but I got the car.”

  “Oooh. I want to see!” She ran to the window. “God, it looks new.”

  “Three years old, the dealer said. And unlike that piece-­of-­shit van we had in Dallas, it has heat and a working radio—­not that’s there any music here, but folks won’t hear us coming a mile away because this one has a muffler that works.”

  “Can we go for a ride?” Kiki aske
d excitedly.

  “Sure. Roads are cleared, so we won’t have to worry about sliding into somebody’s fence. We’re going to have to learn to drive in the snow, but not today.”

  “Let me grab their snowsuits.”

  She returned and tossed him one. While they got the babies bundled up, Bobby said, “I went to a meeting with Trent. This little place has a lot of drama going on.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, there’s this lady mayor in the next town over everybody calls Seabiscuit . . .”

  Tommy Stewart wondered how long Mayor Wiggins was going to keep him locked up. The night after he put the cockroaches in the Henry Adams grocery store, he’d driven to her house to pick up the money he’d been promised for doing the job. After letting him in, she told him the store had been shut down, and how happy and proud of him she was, and would he like some champagne to celebrate? He’d never had champagne before and was feeling pretty good about himself, so he said, “Sure!” She left the room for a few minutes and returned with two of those tall, skinny glasses that rich ­people drank champagne out of on TV. She handed him one. They clinked glasses, she said, “Cheers!” and he drank it down. A few seconds later, he didn’t feel so good. His head had begun to spin. He looked around for a chair to sit in, but fell to the floor instead. The last thing he remembered was the smug smile on her face as she lifted her glass to him in a toast.

  When he came to, he was lying on a dirt floor. Above his head, a low-­watt bulb gave off just enough light for him to make out the confines of the small, shadowy room he was in. He had no idea where he was, or how much time had passed. He struggled to his feet and instantly puked. After a few more rounds, he felt a little better. The memory of the meeting with Mayor Wiggins came back, along with the certainty that she must’ve put something in the champagne. On rubbery legs, he wove his way to the door and pulled on the knob. Locked. He puked again, his head throbbing like he’d been slamming it against the trunk of his mother’s old Buick. Whatever he’d been given also had his mind so muddy he couldn’t think straight, but he knew he needed to get out of there. He reached for his phone, but the pocket of his jeans was empty. Thinking maybe it was on the floor, he looked around. Nothing. His car keys were gone, too. Panic set in. He pounded on the door and frantically yelled for help.