A Change of Heart

by Nancy Frederick

Doug shook his head. "I'm sorry. Your dad's a lawyer, isn't he?"

  "You have such an amazing memory."

  Doug looked deeply into her eyes then, as though he were searching for something. "I'm surprised you didn't want Grady to help you," he said improbably.

  "Why would you think that?"

  "Because he was your first--uh--boyfriend--uh--in high school."

  "What?"

  "You did--uh--date him, didn't you?"

  "No! I don't think we ever even had a conversation."

  "Are you sure?"

  Annabeth grew more perplexed by this line of questioning. She thought back to high school, remembering a dance and began to speak. "There was the spring dance. Where you there?"

  Doug watched her intently as she spoke, shaking his head briefly to respond and indicating that she should continue.

  "I was standing with Maggie and Janice, and we were talking. Grady started to walk toward us, to ask Janice to dance. She was very popular there for a while."

  Doug laughed, remembering the time, on a dare, Janice had left off the bottoms of her cheerleader's costume and then revealed quite a bit too much when she made a leap and her skirt twirled up. "Bottomless cheerleaders usually are."

  Noting the intensity of his gaze without making sense of it, Annabeth continued, "Maggie squealed, in a whisper, if you can whisper and squeal at the same time, 'Ooh it's the Hawk!'"

  "His football name."

  "Yes. And before he could ask Janice to dance, Maggie grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor."

  "Maybe he was coming to ask you to dance."

  Annabeth blushed. "Go on. Of course not. I'm sure not."

  "That's an interesting story." Doug's eyes were flashing.

  Annabeth was certain she saw anger there but couldn't imagine why. Not knowing what to say next, she touched the car Grady wanted to sell her and said, "Your brother seems to think this is the car for me."

  "He probably doesn't know that you have a trade in and can afford something a little better. You do want to trade in your old car, right?"

  "I figured it wasn't worth anything."

  "Sure it is. Now come over here. This is the car I want you to have. It's in perfect condition. Low miles. New tires and battery. You know the little old lady who only drove to church?"

  Annabeth laughed. "She gave up religion and decided to sell this car?" Then she spotted the price painted neatly on the windshield. "This is over seven thousand dollars."

  "With your car as trade in. And your ill-gotten gains from fleecing your husband."

  "It's red. I love red."

  "Take it for a test spin, why don't you. Just to be sure you like the way it handles."

  She was in love! She had bought a car! Annabeth held her hand up to the vent. Cold! Perfect air conditioning. She reached down and turned up the radio. It sounded great. And if she wanted to, she could play a cassette. She looked down at the passenger seat, where all the papers lay. It was her car and she had papers to prove it! Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal and the car sped forward, silently obeying her commands. There was no sound coming from under the hood but the smooth purring of the motor, perfectly doing its job. Annabeth pulled out onto the local highway, where she could accelerate and enjoy driving her car. It seemed a shame to go right home.

  She drove for a bit, but there was no point in wasting gas driving along aimlessly, so she reversed the car and headed back into Gull's Perch. Maggie, she thought, and glanced at the clock on the dash, which kept perfect time. It wasn't much past two. Maggie would be home, so Annabeth resolved once again to stop by and speak to her friend. It was a matter of minutes before she was pulling up in Maggie's driveway, stopping the car and walking toward the door. She glanced back once, thinking, I love that car!

  Maggie pulled the door open, her face a mask of disinterest. "Yes?" she said without emotion.

  Annabeth bit her lip, looking deeply into her friend's eyes. "Maggie, come on, stop this. Let's talk."

  "I'm busy right now."

  Annabeth winced. "Listen to me. I did nothing to break up those kids. They aren't even broken up. They're still together every night. You know that, don't you?"

  Maggie stared silently at her.

  "And I surely didn't try to ruin the party. You can't really believe that. My God. You know how much trouble I had with that car. For months. In fact I just bought a new one. Sold all R.J.'s heaps--without him even knowing it."

  Maggie looked toward Annabeth's car parked in her driveway and her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but then her grandson's voice came from the kitchen. "Oops, I need to go now." And before Annabeth could reply she had shut the door.

  Annabeth walked toward her car, the thrill at seeing it dampened only slightly. What sense did it make for Maggie to be so angry? She couldn't imagine. Didn't it seem as though Maggie was just about to laugh when she heard about the sale of R.J.'s junker cars? Sure it did. Why was Maggie clinging to this anger? And was she crazy or did Maggie look resentful when she saw that Annabeth's car was as nice as her own?

  She turned the key in the ignition, and realizing that she was holding her breath, Annabeth consciously relaxed. The motor started. Of course it did! She pulled out onto the street and drove the few miles to Old Magnolia Bayou. Maggie would relent, Annabeth was certain of it. The car drove smoothly along the curving lane and she pulled up beside her house, spotting Julie's car.

  Julie sat waiting on the porch. "You changed the lock!" she exclaimed.

  "Dad told me to."

  "I've been stuck here waiting for like twenty minutes. Whose car were you driving?"

  "My car. Isn't it great? I got fed up with that old clunker."

  "Sure, it's nice. Ready to help me with the art show?"

  Annabeth sat beside her sister on the porch, enjoying the afternoon breeze. "Sure. Only I don't know if I can help the day of the show. I got a job."

  "A job? You're kidding. Doing what?"

  "Soda fountain at Gleason's Drug Store."

  Julie laughed. "Whatever for?"

  "For money, what do you think?"

  "So you won't be able to help me then?"

  "I can help some, sure. Tomorrow is my first day and I guess I will find out my schedule then."

  "Who'll take little Bobby when I need help with him?"

  "Well, I don't know. I'm pretty sure I'll be working most weekdays. Gee, maybe even some weekends. I don't know yet."

  "I count on you, Annabeth. You know I do."

  "I know. And I want to be there for you but I need to make money. I'm getting divorced. R.J. canceled my credit card and cleaned out the bank accounts. I might even lose this house."

  Julie was clearly distressed. "That's terrible." She stood and reached over to hug her sister. "I don't know what I'll do without you."

  "You won't be without me. I'll help you as much as I can. And of course, even if I do have to move, I'll still be here in town."

  "Okay. I guess."

  "Oh--did you bring back my gray slacks?"

  "No, but I didn't forget them. They're at the cleaners. I got something on them at the party, but I'm pretty sure they can get it out."

  Annabeth sighed. "Okay. Now what did you want me to do tonight?"

  Julie reached into her bag and retrieved a list and began to speak. Annabeth listened, nodding, and some time passed as they discussed the art show.

  Annabeth watched Julie drive away after having agreed to do as much as she could of the tasks her sister assigned. She sat for a while, feeling the silence of the afternoon all around her, and she was bothered by a sense of uneasiness. So many things had changed in such a short time. Annabeth sighed at those changes, and at those to come, but there was more than that on her mind. She felt guilty. It was rare for her to behave in a selfish manner, and often when she got what she wanted there was a sense of guilt along with the pleasure. What was it today? Was it the sale of her husband's cars? The wrath that he would no doubt visit
on her? She had betrayed his trust by selling his cars, yes she knew that, but somehow that was not the source of the guilt that plagued her now. Her husband had abandoned her. Her best friend was furious at her. And her sister felt insecure and abandoned by her. Surely some of this was her fault? Annabeth pondered her life and the feelings of the people she loved. How was she to blame for these problems? She didn't know, and once again she sighed. This would probably be her last free afternoon for a while. She looked at the sky, noting the position of the sun. It would not set for a bit. She could sit here now and think, but tomorrow she would be at work.

  The next morning, Annabeth checked her watch half a dozen times while she made breakfast. She didn't have to be there until eleven. But being early was important. At quarter to eleven, she walked into the drug store, but the person behind the prescription counter wasn't Chuck. It was his father, Charles, a man in his late fifties. His hair, formerly sandy, was now sparse, and he wore gold-rimmed glasses that veiled his watery blue eyes. He was smaller than his son, perhaps only an inch or two taller than Annabeth herself.

  She smiled at him as he looked up from his work to greet her. "I'm Annabeth. Chuck hired me to work here."

  "Yes, hello. He told me you'd be coming. We got a shipment of ice cream just this morning. And there are other supplies in the big refrigerator in back. You'll need to straighten up the counter, wash the glasses, set up the freezer in front. And then, once that's done, maybe you could straighten the shelves a little, dust a bit. Do you know how to work a cash register?"

  Annabeth shook her head.

  "Let me show you that first thing."

  Annabeth followed Charles around, trying to remember every detail he said and she learned to work the cash register. "How about that!" she laughed, "It's not that hard at all."

  Charles smiled at her, "No, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

  Annabeth worked silently for several hours, and eventually the ice cream counter gleamed, the glasses were sparkling and neatly stacked on their shelves behind the counter, the supplies were in perfect order, and even the stools were polished. She stood back for a moment and admired her work. Looking into every storage area behind the cabinet, Annabeth made sure that everything was in order and that she knew where each item was. She pulled out a bag of waffle mix and studied the directions. It seemed pretty simple. She turned on the pizzelle machine and started producing hand made waffle cones and waffle cups, which she placed in the small dispenser on top of the counter.

  Charles, who had been observing her from time to time, came out from his pharmacist's window and sat on one of the stools. "That's a wonderful smell," he said.

  "Want to be my first customer?"

  "Think you could make me a hot fudge sundae in one of those waffle cups?"

  "I sure hope so!" she laughed. "Vanilla ice cream?"

  Charles thought for a bit about his options. "Coffee?" he mused.

  "Oh! A sophisticate!"

  "Pistachio?"

  "A rebel!"

  "Strawberry?"

  "A naturalist!"

  Charles smiled at Annabeth in a friendly way. It was probably a lot more congenial for him to have her working there than some teenager. Annabeth smiled back; he was a nice man and working wasn't so hard. "You know," she confided, "In fancy ice cream places in New Orleans they have exotic flavors like mango and kiwi."

  "No kidding. I've never even tasted a kiwi."

  "Kind of sweet and tangy. Now, for your sundae--what about a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of something else. Pistachio. That would be pretty." Charles nodded in agreement and watched happily as she created his sundae in the waffle cup that was by now cool.

  Although she was not overly busy, Annabeth found things to do, and the hours passed. Before long it was eight o'clock, and time for her to leave.

  "Hope we didn't work you too hard on your first day," said Charles.

  "No, not at all."

  "How will you manage supper for your family working so late here each night?"

  "My daughter is off with her fiancé. Nobody else to worry about."

  "Oh, I see. Normally Chuck and I take turns working late here. Have to compete with the discount drugs on the highway."

  Annabeth nodded.

  "Usually I go right home, but tonight my wife is at her sister's house in Apalachicola. I figured on grabbing a burger at the Rusty Lantern before going home. Why don't you come along? I mean don't get the wrong idea. I just hate to eat alone."

  "The Rusty Lantern?" she asked.

  "They have better burgers than the fast food places. Oh, you're worried because it's a bar. Actually it's kind of fun on Wednesday nights. They have karaoke--you know--sing along. It can be pretty funny to hear some of those crooners."

  Annabeth hesitated. "I've never been in a bar."

  Charles smiled at her, saying, "You'll be safe with me."

  It was a long, typically dimly lit room with the bar on one wall and a few brown vinyl booths on the opposite one. In the middle of the room were maybe half a dozen tables. On the back wall was a juke box, and to one side of it sat a cigarette machine with a small sticker proclaiming Welner Vending. There was a small, high window at the front by the door, and in it was a neon sign with a picture of a lantern. Below that were more tables, the ones chosen by people wanting only to eat.

  "It's not so bad, is it?" asked Charles as he helped Annabeth to a seat.

  The one waitress came over and took their burger orders almost instantly.

  "Two burger plates with fries. Is that okay with you?" he asked Annabeth, who nodded. "I like mine well done." Once again he looked toward her.

  "Medium rare, please, but I like the fries well done."

  "I'm going to have a beer. Do you want one?"

  "Just water for me," answered Annabeth. "I'm not really a drinker."

  The waitress went toward the kitchen to order their food as Charles continued, "There's nothing much else to do around here in the evening. I mean if you want to socialize."

  "And you said you usually go right home."

  "I do. Really. I hope I'm not making a bad impression on you."

  Annabeth looked down shyly, "No, of course not."

  "I don't enjoy television as much as Sara does--that's my wife. And she's not much of a night owl."

  "My husband was on the road most of the time in the last few years."

  "And now?"

  "Now he's on the road permanently, so to speak."

  "You're a widow? I'm sorry."

  "Oh gosh, no. I'm getting divorced. Just not used to telling people I guess."

  "There's no harm in starting over. Could be kind of exciting, I'd imagine."

  "I haven't gotten to that part yet." Annabeth continued the conversation with this pleasant man, surprised that she could do so. It had been years since she had anything but the most casual of conversations with people other than those closest to her.

  In a short span of time, the waitress returned, setting the food down in front of them. Two plates of well-done burgers with pale golden fries and two bottles of beer.

  Charles picked up his beer and took a long swig, then said, "You know Sara always wants me to be more sophisticated. Drink wine. I never got the hang of it. Usually we drink iced tea."

  Annabeth glanced down at her food and lifted her own bottle of beer. "I drink water usually. But this is fine."

  They took their time eating, sharing bits of conversation, mostly of the insignificant variety, and eventually people started filtering into the bar. They politely kept their voices down when commenting on the quality of the singers, most of whom were only slightly worse than the echoes coming out of a neighbor's shower.

  "Why don't you sing a tune?" asked Charles.

  Annabeth blushed. "Oh no. You go ahead."

  He laughed. "I don't think so."

  Doug Hawkins walked into the bar then, and approached their table. Charles rose and shook Doug's hand and Annabeth smiled.

  "How'
s the Taurus?" asked Doug, clearly puzzled over why Annabeth was dining with the druggist.

  "Sara never lets me drive it," laughed Charles. "Why don't you join us?" Doug sat down at the table, but before he could reply, the cellular phone in Charles' pocket rang, and he flipped it open and began speaking. "Oh, hello dear. Oh! Really? Are you absolutely certain?"

  While this conversation continued Doug spoke to Annabeth. "I tried to call you twice today, but there was no answer."

  "I was working at the drug store. Is something wrong?"

  "I know this is crazy so soon after you bought the car, but we got a notice about the seat belts. You'll need to bring it in and let us check them out. Actually a whole lot of cars need belt checks."

  Annabeth sighed, relieved. "I thought you were going to tell me it was something serious. I love that car."

  "I'm so glad," said Doug, smiling into her eyes.

  Charles said, "I'll go right away. Don't worry," then flipped the phone shut, and turning toward the others said, "My wife thinks she left the iron on. She's terrified the house will burn to the ground."

  Neither Annabeth nor Doug remarked beyond the sympathetic looks they offered.

  "You can get to your car without me?" he asked Annabeth. "Okay then, see you tomorrow." She nodded and smiled goodbye as he exited, stopping first at the bar to pay the check.

  "I didn't know you worked at Gleason's," said Doug.

  "This was my first day. In fact, I should probably be leaving now. I only came along because Charles asked me to have a burger with him. He hates to eat alone."

  "Oh," said Doug, clearly disappointed.

  "Is anything else wrong?"

  He looked into her eyes, took a deep breath and said softly, "My ex-wife is getting remarried this weekend."

  "I guess you're depressed," said Annabeth, wondering if she ought to make such a personal remark.

  He sighed, "No, I'm happy for her."

  She hesitated once again, but then continued, sensing that he needed to talk, "Why do you seem so sad then?"

  The waitress came over then, interrupting their conversation. "Hi," she said to Doug.

  "Hey, Wanda. How are you?"

  She nodded. "Good. You?"

  "Good."

  "What can I get for you tonight?"