Corbin's Bend Homecoming

by Ruth Staunton

  “Henry, may I introduce my Venia? Venia, this is my friend, Henry Hopkins.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Venia,” Henry said, offering his hand. For some reason, he wasn’t the least bit surprised when she ignored his hand and gave him a hug instead.

  “I’m so glad you are here. Jeff has been as antsy as a girl on her first date waiting for you to arrive. I’m surprised he hasn’t blown up the lab by now.”

  Grinning at both her words and the look of love on Jeff’s face, Henry apologized again for his late arrival. “I owe you both, not only for understanding, but for all this.” He waved his hand at the walls. “I didn’t expect ya’ll to repaint and have everything so clean.” Upon learning that his friend was indeed moving to Corbin’s Bend, Jeffrey had told him that he had the perfect house. Since he and Venia decided that her larger home suited them better, he’d suggested that Henry move into his old house. Henry had agreed, especially after learning the street he’d call his own was named Paddlebrook Way.

  “Good, you’ll make it up to me by coming to the cookout. You’ll get to meet everyone and enjoy one of the best meals you can get. Until then, we’ve brought some refreshments and the coffee is almost ready. Now, you men go get the truck unloaded while we set everything up.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Henry said, stifling his chuckle when Jeff popped his love on the back of her skirt, telling her to stop being bossy. It was quite obvious neither the swat nor the threat of more to follow surprised anyone present. If this was any indication of how people reacted to semi-public discipline, he had truly moved to the right place. Following the men back out to the truck, he amended his thought as he saw additional strangers being handed boxes and small pieces of furniture out of the truck—no, not strangers, neighbors.

  Thanking the movers and signing off on the clipboard, Henry again shook his head. What he’d envisioned as an entire day of lugging furniture inside had been completed in less than three hours. It was truly amazing what many willing hands could accomplish. He’d met a lot of people, all of whom seemed genuine and friendly. Though he didn’t remember everyone’s names, he was sure that he would in time. Turning, he walked back towards the house. Seeing the piles of boxes and jumbled furniture stacked in the garage, he grinned. The items might be off the truck but it would take a great many more hours getting everything set up just the way he liked it. Chuckling, he remembered it didn’t really matter. Retirement gave him the luxury of taking all the time he needed. The only person he had to answer to now was himself.

  “Thanks again, I really am quite amazed,” he said, returning to the kitchen. Accepting a glass of ice tea from Venia, he insisted that she pour herself a glass and sit down. Once the three were gathered around the kitchen table, he noticed a large basket sitting in the center.

  “What’s this?”

  “That, my friend, is the standard welcome basket from the community,” Jeff explained. “Just a few things to help make settling in a bit more comfortable.” Henry saw the glance exchanged between Venia and Jeff.

  “You might as well show him,” Venia said, giving her head a shake. “He doesn’t have to be Einstein to figure out exactly how welcoming the community can be.”

  Any confusion disappeared as Jeff reached into the basket and extracted the famous Corbin’s Bend paddle, offering it to Henry.

  Taking it, Henry twirled it in his hand, finding the balance to be just right. The paddle was large and quite sturdy looking. A closer glance told him without words—well, spoken words anyway—that if used with enough umph, the name of the community would be imprinted onto a naughty behind. Grinning, he tapped it against his flattened palm, amused to see a slight, but telling wiggle from Venia. “So, everyone moving in gets their own paddle?”

  “Yes, but speaking for one who is Taken In Hand, I only consider the paddle as mine when it is being cracked against my backside,” Venia said with an exaggerated pout.

  Her pout instantly turned into a giggle as two pairs of eyebrows wagged up and down. Henry reluctantly set the paddle aside, wondering how long, if ever, it would be before he got to break it in. Removing an envelope from the basket, he opened it expecting to see some sort of welcome card. Instead, he found a form with a post-it note stuck to the front. Reading it quickly, he grinned. “Seems like Brent got the dispensation approved for me to work out of the garage,” he explained. “The note says I need to call Jim O’Brien and arrange for special ventilation.”

  “That’s good,” Jeff agreed. “Since you can’t work in a vacuum hood, you’ll need it. Those fumes from all the chemicals you use to strip off old paint and varnish are nothing to laugh about. Jim will have you set up in no time, but I still hope you plan on wearing a filter if working with anything really potent.”

  “I always do,” Henry assured him.

  “Speaking of time, I think it’s time we leave,” Venia suggested. “We’ll be back later to pick you up.”

  “For what?” Henry asked, tucking the letter back into its envelope and rising to stick the note onto the front of the refrigerator. “I thought I’d unpack a few things and turn in early.”

  “Well, you thought wrong,” Venia stated, rising and placing both hands on her hips. “You promised to go to the cookout, remember. Besides, you owe me for not showing up for dinner last night.”

  Jeff stood and pulled Venia into his arms, one arm encircling her waist, the other hand moving to pat against her bottom. “Watch it, young lady, you know good and well that the only thing that changed about dinner was that you drank one too many margaritas.”

  Venia laughed, turning in his arms and lifting onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m working with what I have, Professor.” She turned back to Henry and shrugged. “Of course, if you’d rather just keep that paddle tucked into a drawer, well, then stay home. Far be it for little ole me to try to introduce you to possible partners.”

  “You’ve hung around with the resident matchmaker too long,” Jeff said before adding, “but, I’ve gotta admit she’s right. The quicker you socialize, the faster these walls will echo again with the sound of passion.”

  Henry laughed as Venia blushed and then squealed as Jeff grabbed her for another kiss. He walked the couple to the front door. “I’ll be ready, I promise, but if you’ll give me directions, I’d rather drive myself. Give me a chance to begin learning my way around. What can I bring?”

  “Just yourself,” Jeff assured him. “We’ll bring some beer, but until you get a chance to go into Denver and stock up, your pantry is a little bare.” After writing down the address with directions on how to find the right house, Jeff told him to just keep his window cracked so that he could let his nose direct him to the cookout. Henry laughed again and thanked them for everything as they climbed into a red Tahoe. Witnessing the fact that Jeff’s hand lingered a bit longer than necessary on Venia’s bum as he helped her step into the truck had Henry smiling. No doubt about it, his friend was happier than Henry had ever seen him. After moving his truck back into the driveway, he spent the next few hours moving things around in the garage. He’d organize it all later but for now, he wanted to make it possible for Jim to work. The sooner the ventilation system was in, the sooner he’d be able to get started on the next career he’d chosen.

  A few hours later, his rumbling stomach told him that a cookout was just what he needed. Realizing that the afternoon had flown by, he returned to the house to shower and change. Drying off and pulling on jeans, he forgot about being a bit worn out from the past week or today’s physical activities. Combing his hair, he smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The residents he’d met today had not allowed him to feel like a stranger for even a single moment. Walking back through the house, still a bit amazed that the furniture was in place, boxes neatly stacked in the appropriate rooms waiting to be unpacked, he paused.

  A woman’s face, her arm waving madly to make her bid, her cheeks flushed from laughter as she and her niece spoke cryptically about paddles had
him realizing that no matter how wonderful his new house was, it was not a home. Shaking his head, he mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ as he grabbed his keys. Quincy was not within reach and yet she’d done him a great service. Beginning a new career would take care of only a small part of his life. A woman to share that life with would make everything worthwhile. The perfect ending to his first day in Corbin’s Bend would be to discover that somewhere out there, someone would want to share in discovering what else this friendly community had to offer.

  Chapter 5

  Sounds of laughter filled the backyard. After welcoming Quincy home, a large group gathered around the patio table to listen to the story of the buying trip. Abby had no problem regaling them with how they’d actually started bidding against each other but still lost the last bid.

  “I would have paid to see that,” Ever offered. “It’s not often we see our Quincy flustered.”

  Taking a sip of the punch Jonathon had insisted she try, Quincy corrected her friend. “I assure you, I was just shocked at how conniving he was. I still think he and that auctioneer were in cahoots.”

  “And I think her cowboy would still disagree,” Abby countered. “And if Aunt Quincy is shocked, I’m betting it’s because he threatened to use her paddle in a very different manner.”

  At that statement, heads swiveled from the young woman to Quincy.

  “Seriously? Our Quincy?” Lizzy asked. “Now we are getting somewhere. What exactly did your cowboy say?”

  “He is not my cowboy. It doesn’t matter what he said as he’s halfway across the country by now and besides, his bark was far worse than any bite since that was the second time he threatened me. Poor man probably doesn’t know how to use any paddle other than for hoodwinking unsuspecting souls,” Quincy said and then laughed. “Heck, I probably would have agreed to a little smacking if he would have agreed to let me sneak a peek inside those trunks he bought.”

  “I don’t know, sometimes you find the quiet ones or the least macho appearing people are the ones you need to worry about. What did this man look like?” Marilyn asked from where she was sitting next to Abby.

  “Oh, you know what they say, they grow them bigger in Texas. He could be the poster boy for the mature cowboy complete with boots and a big ten-gallon hat.” She giggled and took another sip of punch.

  “What’s that famous phrase? ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much’,” Rob said with a grin, causing his wife to giggle as well.

  Quincy waved her hand to dismiss Rob as she turned to address Brent who was sitting with Char on his lap. “Enough about cowpokes or Shakespeare. Let’s talk about the moving van I saw today. Who’s the lucky family?”

  “Henry Hopkins,” Brent said, “he should be here later.”

  “Is his family or partner joining us as well?”

  “Nope, he’s unattached as far as I know,” Brent answered with a grin.

  “HOH or TIH?” Quincy began only to hear Benjamin chuckle.

  “And she’s really back. I bet a dollar our Quincy is already thinking of possible candidates to introduce to our newest HOH resident.”

  Slapping him on his arm, she shook her head. “You’d lose that bet, smarty pants. For your information, I was only concerned that the poor man might not have everything he needs. As a welcoming merchant, I thought he’d like to know we’re having a sale starting Monday in case he needs some new furniture.”

  “Don’t you mean old?” Benjamin corrected.

  Before she could swat Ben’s arm again, Jonathon handed her a fresh drink, shaking his head. “Not a good idea, sweetie. Remember, HOHs prefer to do the swatting.”

  Quincy’s response was to roll her eyes. Though she would have liked to blame the tequila in the punch for the butterflies that she felt in her stomach, she knew the truth. That cowboy, God, why did he keep popping into her head? He’d also warned her about her behavior and just the memory of the way he’d looked at her, had thousands of wings fluttering inside her tummy.

  “Are you okay?” Jonathon asked when she went still.

  “What? Oh, sorry,” she managed to say as she took another long drink of her punch. “I guess I do need to stop hitting at people.”

  Jonathon smiled as he leaned into his partner when Benjamin slipped an arm around his waist.

  “I was teasing,” Benjamin said, “we all know that besides being our resident matchmaker, you are a purveyor of fine antique and vintage items.”

  “That sounds better,” Quincy quipped. “I like to think I provide a multi-level service. When our newest bachelor comes to me for furnishing advice, what sort of neighbor would I be if I denied him the benefit of my thoughts on eligible TIHs? How old do you think he is? No, never mind, I’m sure I can find a wide range of ages to tempt him with. You know what they say, it takes a village.”

  Rob laughed. “I don’t think they use that phrase for matchmaking, Quincy.”

  “Nonsense, a community is only as good as the people willing to serve,” Quincy countered.

  Benjamin moved his hand to rest against Jonathon’s rear before adding his two cents worth. “That’s true and we all know that serving encompasses so many things.”

  “I meant serve as in offer a full spectrum of quality antiques,” Quincy said, though her smile said otherwise.

  “Sure you did,” he teased. “A big sale can be quite the draw. Perhaps I’ll offer to escort Henry to your fine establishment. It is always very entertaining to see the reactions of newbies when they see the scope of all you offer. I figure you wouldn’t have dared to come home without at least a few new implements.”

  Quincy grinned. “Now that’s a bet you’d win. I wonder if he’ll prefer paddles or if he is a connoisseur of a good sturdy hairbrush? Oh, and I can’t wait for you to see what I found in this dilapidated old basket. I’m just trying not to think about what other delicious implements I might have missed in those old trunks.”

  “Aunt Quincy, the cowboy…”

  Seeing that Abby had returned from the house and was moving around the table, shaking her head, her eyes wide, Quincy nodded her own head as she interrupted, “Sorry, my dear, I know you were right, he did us a favor as we really didn’t have any more room. I promise I’m done talking about cowboys, even if he was more of an outlaw.” Before Abby could respond, Quincy turned to Brent. “So, Brent, when do I get to have the honor of welcoming our newest resident? Exactly where is this HOH wannabe?”

  “Right behind you.”

  The words caused Quincy’s eyes to go wide as saucers. Turning, the reality of who owned that voice had her mouth dropping open and her glass slipping from her fingers to fall to the ground, red liquid splashing up onto her white tiered skirt.

  “How in the hell did you get here?” she demanded and then felt her face heat, “and, um, how long have you been standing there!”

  “By way of the great state of Texas,” Henry answered, tipping his Stetson before adding, “and long enough.” He didn’t see any need to inform her that he’d seen Abby attempting to warn her aunt of his presence. “Perhaps I can be of assistance,” he said, repeating the phrase he’d said when seeing her at the flea market. Chuckling, he pulled his shop rag from his jean’s pocket and held it out. “You might want to blot that before it sets.”

  Jonathon obviously thought the same thing as he’d attempted to break away only to be held still by Benjamin.

  “There’s club soda in the kitchen,” Ben said. “Why don’t you take Quincy inside to take care of that stain?”

  Henry liked the idea and reached out to take Quincy’s arm only to have her slap his hand away even as she jerked the red rag out of his hold.

  “I can do it myself, damn it!” she snapped.

  Conscious but truly unconcerned of those around them, Henry’s eyebrow rose. “What did I tell you about cursing and slapping?” He watched her eyes widen. Taking her arm, he continued. “Don’t look so worried. Haven’t you heard that I don’t ‘bite’? Now, let’s find that soda,
shall we?” He addressed the silent crowd around them, noticing that several of them wore knowing smiles. “Excuse us for a moment.”

  Once inside the kitchen, Henry wasted no time in uncapping the soda and pouring some onto the rag Quincy had released at his slight tug. “Do you want to do the honors or shall I?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Your skirt,” Henry clarified, nodding to the large wet spot on the front. “I asked if you…”

  “I’m not taking off my skirt!”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t recall asking you to take it off.” He paused, thinking it adorable to see her cheeks turn a very pretty pink. “In fact, I didn’t even ask you to lift it though we both know you have a few smacks due.”

  Her eyes flashed as she snatched the rag from his hand yet again. “In your dreams!” Bending down, she gathered the fabric in one hand and dabbed the wet cloth against the stain with the other.

  Henry leaned against the counter, his ankles and arms crossed, watching as she worked on the stain. “Though I have to admit you’ve played a major role in my dreams lately, you weren’t quite as snippy. I can’t believe you are still upset about the auction. It was just a matter of…”

  “I was cheated and you know it!”

  “No, you lost fair and square,” Henry countered, “and it’s very rude to interrupt someone. As I was saying, it was just business. Look, I understand you weren’t thrilled, but I never figured you rude or think of you as a liar.”

  That seemed to get her attention. Her head lifted, her hand stilling. “I’m not a liar.”

  Not immediately responding, he kept his eyes on hers. When she repeated the phrase, he spoke. “Well, at least you don’t claim that your behavior couldn’t be considered rude.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “Perhaps liar is too strong a phrase,” he conceded. “However, I distinctly remember you stating your desire to welcome the newcomer.”