LOVE in a Small Town

by Janet Eaves

  She cleaned off the squeegee and pulled it across again. Halfway across the glass, there was Martin McClain’s face on the other side. No smile, but not quite a frown. Plenty of uptight, though. He stood still, watching her. Midnight took a breath and finished that slice of window. Martin had the grace to move out of her line of vision, thank God, right before she made the pass just below his belt buckle. She focused entirely on washing the window… In a moment the bell on her front door jingled.

  “Miz Shelby.”

  “Mr. McClain.” She didn’t look up, but smoothly finished cleaning the window. “What brings you to my humble establishment?” Dropping the sponge into the bucket, she flinched only slightly when some of the elixir splashed out onto the floor and onto her jeans. Why do I do something awkward each time he’s around, or even when his name is mentioned? Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath. Yikes. Is it voodoo doll time again?

  “Riley Mae fix you up some window cleaner, did she? The old plate glass looks good.”

  “Yes she did, and thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He looked around the large room. “Planning to make a lot of changes to the place, I guess.” He sighed.

  “That depends what you mean by ‘a lot.’ I’ll be selling coffee and tea, maybe light lunches, at the bar instead of beer and chips.”

  “Jim-Bob’s had the best damned fish sandwich and bowl of chili in the county.”

  “It was a shame to lose that, I’m sure. Remember though, it’s not because of me that the bar closed.”

  “I know that. Of course I know that. Just hard to see the end of a business that was decades old. It was here before I was born. Kinda sad.”

  “Better for me to buy it and do something new, than to see the building empty, wouldn’t you say? It had been on the market a while, I understand.”

  “Couple of years. Not good for a building to sit empty. Hard on it. Economy’s bad in Legend, or maybe somebody would have taken a chance on buying it to run as a bar. Nobody around has the extra money for that. Or if they have the extra, they don’t want to run a bar.”

  “Did you think of buying it yourself?”

  He shot her a sharp glance. “Why ask that?”

  “Oh…Just the look on your face.” Wistful, but he wouldn’t like that characterization.

  He frowned. “You notice a lot. Yeah, I’d thought of it, but it’s not for me. I have a son to raise, and that’s better done with a day job.” Martin looked away, to the far end of the building. “You didn’t say about other changes to the place. Not that it’s my business.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve talked to myself most of the day, so conversation is a luxury.” She extended a hand above. “The old tin ceiling and light fixtures will stay the same. The walls are mostly okay, but need to be painted. I love the woodwork and hardwood floor. I’m almost done with the first cleaning. That and some TLC should bring out the beauty. I wish some of the old bar furniture was still here. I mean, I love these old revolving stools, but to have had a couple of the original tables and chairs…that would have been great.” She shrugged. “So I’ll have to buy tables, and of course display cabinets. Assuming I ever get something to display.” Sighing, she dropped onto a bar stool. “Do you want me to fail, Mr. McClain? Is that what the whole town wants? It almost seems that way to me.”

  Martin frowned, turned away from her to stare out the windows. “No reason for me or anybody else in Legend to want that, Miz Shelby.” He leaned against the bar, as he’d no doubt done many times in the past. “Listen. You ever live in a small town before?”

  “No. Why? What am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing, and everything. You’re different from everybody here, you know. You look different, dress different.” He inhaled deeply, and almost smiled. “That expensive perfume—you even smell different. You’ve got Big City written all over you. Most everybody in Legend has lived here their whole lives. We have history together, and know a lot about each other. More than we want to, a lot of times. But that makes us tight. We’re small town, and proud of it. You come in here and start changing things, you think for everybody’s good. But change is hard for us. Legend isn’t a lot different now than it was when I was a kid, and some of the changes it has had went wrong. We’re supposed to get a new factory, you know. Jobs that we desperately need. The mayor has worked hard trying to bring a big employer in, and people have their hopes pretty high.” He shook his head. “Expecting outsiders to come in here and make things better. I don’t know. It’s hard to trust in it.”

  He looked into her eyes. “You seem to be different in one way. Your idea is to help people make a little money off what they already know how to do. Things that are creative, and enjoyable. Crafts that are part of our history.” He looked around the large room. “‘Emporium’ sure isn’t what this building is accustomed to, but the building is probably more flexible than most of us flesh-and-blood Legendarians. What I don’t understand is who you think is going to buy the stuff.”

  “Ah. I have ideas, you can be sure of that. My whole work life has been in marketing. I am very, very good at it. I just need the merchandise. And I guess to get that, I need to be accepted somehow.”

  “We’ll see what we can do about that.” He took a deep breath and seemed to make a decision. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Miz Shelby. Betsy said I should take you to the Christmas Ball. Local fund-raiser the Chamber of Commerce puts on. I show you around, introduce you in that kind of a social situation, and treat you like a valued member of the business community.”

  “Even though I’m not?” Midnight couldn’t stop a smile.

  “I didn’t say that. Hey—I’m trying to be nice! Don’t antagonize me.”

  “Sorry. It’s just so easy to do.”

  He scowled. “Betsy practically begged me to do this. And Suzie has a high opinion of you. I respect her judgment. So you’re going with me.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.” He started to leave.

  “When is this event? In case I decide to attend.” she asked his retreating back.

  “Tonight. Be ready at seven.” He closed the door harder than she would have liked, stalked down the sidewalk and out of sight.

  Chapter Four

  “I refuse to get nervous and spend a lot of time primping for this, Betsy.” Midnight was standing in front of her closet wearing just a black bra and matching panties. “It’s a business thing. Not a date. If that was an invitation for a date, it’s no wonder Martin has been single for years.”

  Betsy’s voice sounded in her ear. “Okay. I know it’s business, but I’m glad he invited you. I think it’ll raise your stock with folks.”

  Midnight lifted her shoulder so the cell phone was securely held between her ear and shoulder. “Thank you for pushing him to do it. I’m sure it took some persuasion.” At arm’s length she held out the two dresses in her closet, both black, of an excellent cut, and created by the same designer. Both had a wide V to show off the length of her neck and perfection of her skin, and would hit her at the exact place on her legs to best emphasize their shapeliness. Hm. Long sleeve or ¾ length? That was the only difference.

  “Well, I had to nudge pretty hard, but you can’t ever get Martin to do something he doesn’t want to. So, part of him didn’t mind too much.”

  Which part, Midnight could imagine, although she refused to do so. “I don’t have many clothes here. Nothing colorful or festive. I wasn’t expecting to be asked to a party.”

  “The Christmas Ball is a big deal every year. It raises money for Shop with a Cop—you know, kids who wouldn’t get gifts otherwise are taken out for breakfast and then shopping by volunteers. Police officers, firefighters, and others. I’ve never been to the ball, but I’ve…um…had experience with Shop with a Cop. It’s a great program! You know, Midnight, I imagine you could show up at the ball wearing a feed sack and still dazzle the crowd. That’s just how you are.”

  “Hm. Meaning?�
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  “You stand out.” She rushed on: “I don’t mean that in a bad way! But you know… You’re different.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She returned the ¾ sleeve dress to the closet and lay the long sleeve one on the bed. “Guess I either need to use that to my advantage, or try harder to fit in.”

  “Maybe you can do both.”

  Midnight smiled to herself as she opened her jewelry box. “Perhaps.”

  A few minutes before 7:00 PM, Midnight was sitting in a wing-back chair in the front room of the B&B hoping this was where Martin would come to pick her up. Her ego refused to let her call and ask him if he intended to come here or to the store. Anything like that would mean she felt less than in control in this relationship, and she wasn’t going to give an inch more than she had to. Suzie had left for the event hours ago; evidently she was on some kind of committee. Midnight consciously slowed her breathing, closed her eyes and tried to relax. It isn’t a date. At least I know that. It’s just a meet and greet with the locals, and Martin is being a kind of tour guide. Lord knows something has to happen to loosen people up. Even though Betsy pushed him into it, he is doing me a favor. I will be pleasant to him.

  She heard a vehicle pull up, the door open and close, and footsteps on the wooden porch floor, but still sat motionless. The doorbell sounded, and, unhurried, she rose and crossed the plush carpet, opened the door. Chill air rushed in, but Midnight was warmed by the sudden look of appreciation in Martin McClain’s eyes as they traveled over her.

  “Hello. Please come in while I get my wrap.” She slid the red wool cape over the form-fitting black dress, and picked up the black leather clutch bag.

  “You look great. Movie star great.”

  “Thank you. So do you. I haven’t seen a man wearing a suit since I moved here.”

  “You’ll get your fix on that tonight, I promise you. We’re still old-fashioned enough to dress up for some things. Weddings, funerals, the Christmas Ball.”

  “Betsy indicated this was a major social event. But she said she has never attended.”

  “Not her kind of thing, I guess. Hers or Mike’s. He’s my cousin. Our dads are brothers. But we’re not much alike. Mike can be real bullheaded.” He turned the doorknob. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She preceded him through the doorway and paused while he shut the B&B front door. No need to lock it, of course, by local custom.

  Martin walked her to the passenger side of his Jeep and opened the door for her. “Chivalry lives on in Legend, Tennessee, I take it?” She slipped into the seat.

  “It’s on its last gasp, but not quite done yet.” He almost smiled, closed the door and went around to get in. In a moment he started the engine and they were on the winding Lake Road heading toward town.

  Midnight cast around in her mind for a topic of conversation that might not start an argument. “Nice weather.”

  He grunted. “Give it a day and it’ll change. You haven’t seen a storm here yet, have you?”

  “A little rain is all. Why?”

  “You’ve never been through winter til you’ve seen one in the mountains. It’s a rush, for sure. You better hope you don’t need to go anywhere when it snows, either. That’s a fine little car you’ve got, but it won’t be worth having when there’s snow on the roads. Let alone ice.”

  She wouldn’t waste the energy it would take to explain winter in New York City. “That’s something to consider. Of course I should be moving to town before long. I have plans to fix up the second floor of my building and live there.”

  “So I hear. That’s what Jim Bob and Sylvie did. Lived above the bar and raised their kids there.” He slowed suddenly while three deer stepped into the road, saw the Jeep, and leapt away. “What’s it going to take to make the place livable for you? I remember it looking pretty good.”

  “Nothing drastic. A good cleaning and coat of paint should do it, really. I can do other little things after I get moved in. My furniture and all are ready to be delivered as soon as I’m prepared for it. So. Do you live above your office?”

  “Hell no. That’s full of files and old furniture. We’ll go past my place in a minute. I like being outside town a little bit because of Daniel. My son, you know. A boy needs to be able to run in his own yard, climb trees, make forts in the woods.”

  “Downtown Legend isn’t exactly a concrete jungle, Martin.”

  “Yeah, well. I know that. Town living isn’t for me though, even a little town like ours. Too much noise. I like to sleep with the windows open and hear the crickets, not some teenager scratchin’ off his tires.”

  “That’s interesting. You know, I’ve never slept with a window open. Ever. Some of them weren’t made to open. Plus sirens, dirty air… I love the city—don’t get me wrong. Love it! Or, I did.” She looked out the Jeep window, thinking about that. A strange thing to wonder about—what it would be like to open her bedroom window and have fresh air coming in while she slept. She suddenly hoped the windows in the second floor of her building would open.

  “Fresh air’s good for you. A little cross-ventilation on a cool day, or night, is better medicine than you can get in my Aunt Dorothy’s pharmacy.”

  “I’ll have to try it. The fresh air. Does your aunt own the pharmacy with the soda fountain?”

  “Yep. Pretty cool. And so’s she.” He slowed and jerked a thumb to his right. “That’s my place. Not fancy, but it’s home.”

  A two-story cabin sat at the edge of a green lawn, and behind it lay the darkness of the pine forest.

  “Rustic. Did you build it?”

  He shot her a look. “Not by myself, but yeah, I had a hand in it. Why?”

  “Don’t get all defensive. I just wondered.”

  “And I just wonder what goes through your mind sometimes. You think people around here are less than you because we build our own houses, or make arts and crafts. Country people make things, and city people make money from those things. Right?”

  “I don’t know how you can see out your rear-view mirror with that giant chip on your shoulder, Mr. McClain. You’re the one who’s created a chasm between country people and city people. We’re just people, after all. I can’t carve a wooden pipe, or build a house, but I can appreciate the skill of someone who does. I can appreciate the beauty of the finished product. And yes, I’m really good at getting people to notice an item that’s available for sale. Does that make me some kind of devil in your mind? I came to Legend to start over, and I don’t need negativity thrown my way. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime. I bought a building, resulting in a commission for you. You might try being glad about that income. Then you can be thankful the sellers got their money—the family that ran your favorite bar all those years. Then you can hope I know what I’m doing enough to turn a profit and stay here. Because you know what happens if I don’t? I don’t have to hang around. I can pick up and move to wherever I choose. The building will be put back on the market, and with my current mindset I imagine I’d be looking for a different realtor. No new income stream for the people who have a room full of crafts they make because they enjoy it. No additional business for the coffee shop or restaurants or gas stations. It would be as if I’d never heard of Legend. You’d better hope that doesn’t happen. You had better hope I do well. Because The Emporium isn’t just about me creating a cool-looking sales floor. It’s about giving Legendarians a way to display some work they’re proud of, and make a little money at the same time. I’m not the only one in need of a fresh start. Your hometown is desperate for one, from what I can see.”

  “And you’re going to single-handedly save our town?”

  “Of course not. But it’s a start. Who knows what good might result? What is wrong with giving my idea a chance?”

  “Legend was just fine before you ever heard of it, Miz Shelby, and it’ll be fine after you’re gone.”

  “Excellent. That closed-minded attitude explains a lot to me.”

  Martin turned off the street and parked
in the high school lot. “We’re here. Welcome to the Christmas Ball,” he said, flipping off the ignition and staring straight ahead.

  Midnight jerked open her door. “I am so in the mood for a festive evening! Thanks awfully for bringing me.”

  He got out and slammed his door, caught up with her as she made her way across the gravel parking lot.

  “You parked as far away as possible, hoping I’d not be able to maneuver gravel in stilettos?” She knew the answer was ‘yes’ and knew he wouldn’t admit it. As kind as Betsy was, as cautiously open as the townspeople were, Martin McClain was beastly. And if McClains were such a big deal, as Junior the phone guy had said, Martin might be important to her success.

  When they stepped out of the cool night and into the warm gymnasium, it was as if they had also entered another world. The place looked more like a backdrop for Irving Berlin’s White Christmas than it did like a basketball court. Heavy cloth tarpaulins protected the wooden gym floor, dark blue fabric suspended from the rafters hid the bleachers. In front of the fabric, tiny white Christmas lights encased in yards and yards of sheer tulle gave a subtle glow. At one end of the gym was a small dance floor, but the rest was taken up with tables and chairs. White linen cloths covered all the tables, and on each was a fat red candle in a hurricane glass surrounded by fresh holly and ivy. The fragrance of roasted meat mingled with the scent of feminine perfume. People stood in small groups chatting and laughing.

  “Take your coat?” Martin ground out.

  “Well, yes, thank you so much.” Midnight gave him a dazzling smile. She was determined to enjoy the rest of the evening, or at least look as if she were. Maybe if she had a good time, Martin would chill out too. Why is he always so on edge? Martin stalked away clutching her red cape. Not meaning to, she followed him with her eyes. He handed the cape to the young man she’d seen with him that first day on the sidewalk by the barbershop. Midnight walked down and joined them just as Martin turned to go back in her direction. He almost collided with her.