Crain's Landing

by Cayce Poponea

  I watched his eyes as they took me in. Had I been interested, I would have been melting in my shoes from the heat of his gaze. He took my hand in his, and in a clichéd move, he turned my handshake into him, kissing the skin on the back of my hand, those ice blue eyes never leaving mine.

  “It’s certainly my pleasure.”

  I took my hand back and continued in my professional voice. “Thank you, Dr. Crain; it’s a pleasure to meet you, too. As I was telling Carolyn here, we’re having the children’s reading hour back on Saturdays. I wanted to leave a flier for your parents to see. I’m hoping for a good turnout.”

  “Well, Natalie...I can call you Natalie, right?”

  I smiled. “Of course.”

  “And in return, you must call me Grant.”

  With a resolve in place, my professional face in tact, I responded. “Oh, but Dr. Crain, it took you far longer to receive that coveted title, so you’ll only hear respect from me.”

  He reached out to take my hand again. “Oh, Natalie, I sincerely hope that’s negotiable. You’ll find that I can be a very patient and persistent man. I do so love the thrill of a good challenge.”

  Yeah, well, I hoped the thrill of the challenge would be enough for Dr. Patient and Persistent, because that was all he was going to be getting from me.

  Since arriving in Crain’s Landing, I’d heard repeatedly how good the one and only diner was in town. With my stomach now rumbling loudly, I decided it was high time to make a visit.

  Nelson's diner was located in the heart of the town square. The cinder block building, painted sea foam green with plant boxes filled with thick ivy welcoming you to the entrance. Large planters stood on either side of the glass entry door. The neon sign above that read Nelson’s hummed; its age evident in the baby pink color of the boards. There was no annoying bell announcing my arrival as I opened the heavy door. Spindle chairs stood in a single row, their chrome panels glistened brightly in the light coming in from the massive windows. Music flowed from the jukebox resting in the far corner, it current tune one I hadn’t heard yet.

  “Well, I was wondering when you would make it in.” Standing behind the long counter was a plump woman. She stood tall with her bright red hair stacked in an obscene beehive hairdo, glasses resting against her ample chest. “Maybelline said you couldn’t get enough of her rhubarb pie.” Truthfully, most of that pie went in the trash as it was so sour we couldn’t eat it. I returned the empty pie plate with a batch of my baking; a gesture I was told was customary here in the deep South. “Now we can get you something you can stomach.”

  I sat down at one of the empty booths. Dad had called me on my way to Dr. Crain’s office and insisted he and Peggy wanted time with Peyton. He had missed so much of when she was younger I didn’t dare tell him no. The waitress placed a tall glass of ice tea, which I had no doubt had more sugar than tea present, in front of me. Seemed there was only one way to have tea here in the South—cold and sweet. She placed a paper menu beside the glass and a set of silverware rolled in a napkin. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to decide.”

  The special for tonight was chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas. I decided it was best to just go with what was most likely fresh and ordered the special. “I’ll get that right out to you, with a piece of decent rhubarb pie, on the house.” Waving off the waitress, I took a look around the diner. It was nothing special, vinyl booths with various patrons seated. A man at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. However, it was the conversation between two older ladies who had just come in that caught my attention.

  “Well, all I am sayin’ is it makes sense.” The shorter of the two, her stylish hair cut short and curled under at the ends.

  “Doris, that may be all true and good, but doesn’t mean he is gonna just forget about Rebecca and go for this Yankee girl.”

  There was no mistaking who they were talking about; this wasn’t the first time I had heard someone reference me as, “the Yankee girl.” Or this lady named Rebecca, I hadn’t asked around about her, mostly because I didn’t care.

  “Well, Bea, that girl has been gone for a long time and with the slim pickin’s this town has to offer, he would be a fool not to spend some time with her. After all, it just ain’t right for a doctor not to have a proper wife. She has a baby so she must have had a husband at one point in her life.”

  I watched as the waitress approached the gossiping ladies. Leaning over, she motioned for the pair to look in my direction. As hastily as the conversation began, the realization I had heard them talking sunk in and all words stopped. Pretending as if nothing had occurred, the two ladies decided to peruse the menu. By the norm of this town, looking at that paper was a rouse to make me believe they were doing anything except for gossiping. Which, frankly, was the favorite pastime of the entire county.

  Looking out the window, I questioned if this was the real reason behind the attention I got from not only Carolyn and Peggy, but Autumn as well. Did Dr. Crain need a wife so his standing in this town would be a little higher? Were the women here so bad that the first newcomer was up for auction? This news allowed me to see things in a different light. Had my views on men in general been different, it would have certainly hit a nerve, perhaps even made me cry. Yet it only served to reestablish my belief I came here with. Men are pigs, not worthy of my time.

  I shook my head as the waitress kept her word and slid a large piece of pie in front of me. After taking that first bite, I knew one thing...Mrs. Nelson was right; her rhubarb pie was so much better.

  PROGRESS AT THE LIBRARY WAS in full swing. This morning, the delivery driver unloaded thirty boxes of new books and Henry, our elderly postman, had another twenty-five boxes in the back of his pickup truck. Morning Star Media had sent over one thousand DVDs for our use. According to the contract they included, they would continue to provide new release DVDs to us and we, in turn, would provide a space for them to advertise their other merchandise. I was hesitant at first until I was shown what their idea was of an advertisement. They provided rental cards with a barcode on the back of each. When the owner of the card used it to rent a movie, a receipt would be printed, and on the back of the receipt was an ad for whatever product they were currently promoting. Each DVD would cost only one dollar to rent.

  This morning, I received an email from a sister company to Morning Star, Mystic Records. They wanted to supply us with CDs and music downloads that could be used by our patrons. I instantly replied with a thank you and found that by the end of the following week, I would be able to set up a music section.

  However, the most amazing news of the morning was the team of men who were busy sawing and building in the parking lot. Dwight Merchant, an instructor from the local community college, had introduced himself as soon as I’d pulled into the parking lot. He was a kind and polite man, with a large frame and curly hair that peaked out from a well-broken in ball cap. The sunlight illuminated the large fishhook he had secured to the bill of the hat. He explained he was from the next town over. His family, originally coal miners, had taken up new trades after too many of their kin died in the caverns they mined. He began a long tale of how his early ancestors befriended the natives, living in the surrounding hills; how his parents had an extensive collection of artwork passed down from those relations. I told him how Native American art interested me, and he invited me to attend one of their gatherings, which were, “just a bunch of good ole boys sitting around and telling stories.” I picked up he was suggesting more than a simple friendly invite; he was fishing for an opportunity for a date. I smiled politely while telling him I would be more than happy to post a flier advertising their event. I caught his smirk when he thought I wasn’t looking.

  Ashley came in only a few minutes after I did, holding the door for another group of men carrying more boxes. Contemporary Coffee, a Charleston-based coffee house, had agreed to open a coffee and pastry shop in the library. They had a phenomenal mission statement support
ing literacy. When I emailed the CEO of the company with the details of this town’s lack of coffee houses, George Carpenter called me personally with an idea. They would open a small shop inside the library and if all went as he predicted, they would open an entire store in the town in the near future. I was excited, especially at the possibility of at least ten new jobs in the community.

  Ashley had done some investigative work and discovered that Mr. Barrow had invested all the grant money through a brokerage in Charleston. I contacted the city council and they had a judge issue a release for the funds. With the money, I planned to renovate the entire interior of the library. I had contacted several contractors in the city and had each of them give me bids to do the work.

  I was sitting behind my desk at a little after ten o’clock when my day began to turn to shit. I watched from my window as a man carried a huge vase full of flowers into the building. Thinking they were more than likely for Brittney, I returned to my paperwork, only to be interrupted by a knock at my office door. “Come in,” I spoke loudly as I continued with my task.

  “Someone has an admirer.” Brittney’s singsong voice was like listening to cats in heat. I glanced in her direction as she placed the enormous vase on my desk. The flowers were so fragrant and simply breathtaking. The bright petals assured anyone who would look of their message of good cheer. “You must’ve rocked his world to get something this big.” She tossed back in what I suspected was an unbelieving tone.

  I glared at her as I rose from my seat. I located the card and noticed it was still sealed. I would have been pissed if she had opened it. Brittney stood waiting for me to reveal the sender, as if that was going to happen.

  Natalie,

  I wanted to apologize to you for not being quicker on my feet yesterday and allowing my mother to suggest dinner together. It’s entirely your fault, however, as I was completely captivated by you. I would love nothing more than to take you out and get to know you better. Please call with a time I can pick you up.

  Grant

  555-8586

  What an arrogant son of a bitch, “Please call with a time I can pick you up.” His words caused steam to roll out of my ears from the anger he brought on. I buried the card in my pants pocket; I would tear it up later when I was at home. The last thing I wanted was for Brittney to get it and start spreading rumors around. I then picked up the vase and carried them into the main room. I placed it on the front desk gently, spun back around, and returned to my desk.

  I had just finished sending a thank you email to George when Brittney appeared at my door again holding a second flower arrangement, this one even bigger than the first. This time it was full of white roses. Brittney was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she stood there, waiting for me to react. I feared she was going to drop the massive vase. I walked over, took the envelope and, again, shoved it into my pocket. “Take them and set them out there on the table near the front doors.”

  I didn’t wait for her to leave as I returned to my desk and continued to work. For the next three hours, a new delivery of flowers appeared at my desk, each one outdoing the previous. The library was starting to look like a funeral home and I finally had enough and placed a call to the florist.

  “Emily’s Blooms!” A chipper voice spoke into my ear.

  “Good morning, this is Natalie...”

  Rushed words interrupted me before I could give my full name. Taken by surprise, I stood gasping like a fish and listened to the hurried voice. “Oh, yes! Hello, Ms. Reid, are you enjoying the flowers Dr. Crain sent you? He must’ve really upset you to send that many flowers. My Dwight stayed out with his cousin one night and then came home the next afternoon covered in mud. Well, let me tell you, I was mad as a wet hen at that man. Even then, he never apologized like your Dr. Crain. Dwight bought me a pack of that beef jerky he knows I like, the stuff that old man Johnson makes. But never flowers, not in all the years we have been together. And may I say, you’ve caught yourself a real sweetheart in that Dr. Crain...”

  “Ma’am,” I practically shouted into the phone.

  “Oh...I’m sorry, Dwight says I talk a mile a minute, but what...”

  This was completely insane; did the lady even need air to breathe? “Ma’am!” I shouted again. For the first time, the line was quiet. I took the opportunity to jump in. “Yes, the flowers have been beautiful, but I need them to stop. Please, the next time he calls to order more flowers, let him know it isn’t necessary.” I felt as if my words mimicked hers, rushed as to convey everything I needed to.

  “But, Ms. Reid, he has a good number of deliveries already paid for. He gave strict instructions to keep delivering until he called and said otherwise. I mean he’s already paid for them and everything, and thank God he did, as business has been so slow since the end of the season. No hunters telling their brides they’re sorry for staying in the...”

  “Ma’am, I understand. Here’s what you can do.” I felt slightly rude for interrupting her, but it seemed like the only way. “Please have the remaining deliveries go to the hospital. I'm certain the nurses there would love some fresh flowers around. Just don’t send any of them with cards, that could get...interesting, if you know what I mean?” I thought about what the quirky lady had said about finding “a real sweetheart” and I needed to clear that one up before the rumor mill got wind of this. “One more thing, Dr. Crain is only playing a joke on me. We’re not in a relationship; he’s only trying to creatively welcome me to town.” I added a touch of laughter at the end, hoping to have her join me in the purposed silliness.

  “All right, but he’s given you his personal cell number and that isn’t something he gives out to anyone.”

  I sighed as I came up with a distraction. “That’s just in case I have an emergency with my daughter.” Sounded plausible to my ears.

  “If you say so,” Emily added as we ended the call.

  I took a deep breath as I hung up the phone. Dr. Crain had been correct when he’d said he would be persistent. However, I knew this would only last a little while. He would figure out I wasn’t the type to drop at his feet with my legs spread wide and my mouth open and waiting. He would be right back to the regular stream of locals he was used to. I was just the fresh new meat around town. My appeal would wear off and he would cool his jets; returning to his life before I entered town.

  Lunch had just ended when Ashley came into the office. “Natalie, we need to talk.”

  I motioned for her to close the door. She did with a huff and then plopped into a seat.

  “I know you’ve been getting flowers from Dr. Crain. Brittney is out there telling the entire world you’ve placed a spell on him and now he’s ‘off the market.’” Her air quotes only added to the drama that was brewing, something I didn’t want or need in my life. “I’ll warn you, Janice and Brittney are about to become your best friends, or maybe your worst enemies, as they’ve been after him for years.”

  I leaned back in my chair as I took in her words. How could one man cause this type of disruption? It would be one thing if I was in pursuit of him, but this was the complete opposite and it left me practically speechless. “Well, you can let the Dr. Crain fan club out there know I have no interest in a relationship with him.”

  Ashley only shook her head and snickered. “It’s not the fan club you have to worry about,” she said confidently. “You know Lily over at the daycare center?” She pointed in the direction of the back parking lot.

  “Yes, she takes care of Peyton for me.” I leaned my elbows on my desk, my interest peaked.

  “Yes, well, when she moved here with her family she, of course, turned many heads. She’s beautiful inside and out.” I nodded my head in agreement. “Her daddy made it known she couldn’t date until she turned sixteen. The day that happened, several boys in town made it known they wanted to be her boyfriend. Lily wasn’t interested in any of the guys in town, though.

  “Well, Morgan Crain decided to pull out all the stops and overwhelmed her with gift
s and crazy acts of chivalry. Just like Grant is doing to you. Everyone thought he’d get tired and give up when she showed no interest in him. The weekend of the big homecoming game something happened at Lily’s house. Her family to this day won’t speak of it. However, the next Monday at school, Lily and Morgan were a couple.”

  I found this to be odd—did he pay her or blackmail her?

  “I can tell by the look on your face you think he did something to make her like him, but I happen to know what happened. My father was called out to the house as the family minister. Morgan did nothing wrong or evil. After nearly a year of trying to get her attention by giving her gifts opening doors, decorating her locker, and even writing her a song he sang at the talent show, one act of bravery sealed the deal for her.”

  This news had me intrigued. What could have happened that made Lily change her mind about Morgan? And why would you call a minister to the house? Specifically the good Reverend here in town.

  “What I’m trying to tell you is the Crain men can be very aggressive when they want something. If you think diverting his gifts to another location is going to work, you’re kidding yourself.” Her face now colored with glee.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please, Emily Merchant couldn’t keep silent if her mouth was welded shut.” Her eyes rolled as her hands flipped in time with her words.

  “Wait...did you say Emily Merchant?”

  Ashley looked at me puzzled. “Yes, she owns the flower shop. She and Dwight have been married for about three years now.”

  “Dwight...the guy who...?” I pointed at the parking lot still buzzing with activity.