Playing with Bonbon Fire

by Dorothy St. James

  As we rounded the corner to Althea’s cottage, I noticed Tina was trying to study my face as if searching for the deeper truth in what I’d told her.

  “If it’s too much of a bother, forget I asked,” I said. “I just thought—”

  “Oh, shut up and just give me a shopping list already.” She thrust out her hand. “I’ll pick up whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, Tina,” I said. “I do appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just promise that someday you’ll tell me what you’re really planning on doing this afternoon.”

  “I’m going to work in the kitchen. Cross my heart.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. I’m sure she would have badgered me further if we hadn’t just arrived at Althea’s house. Althea was working like a berserker as she weeded the front garden.

  When she spotted us, she jumped up and wiped at the muddy knees of her jeans before peeling off her equally muddy gloves. “Come on in,” she said as she carefully placed the gloves in a bucket that held an array of gardening tools. “The iced tea is waiting.”

  She served the tea and fussed in the kitchen before I told her to go ahead and spill it already.

  “I visited Uncle Kamba this afternoon.” She held up her hands. “Now don’t give me that look. He was living in Camellia Beach throughout the seventies, and he was willing to talk to me. What he does for a living and the things he believes in shouldn’t matter to you.”

  I tried to wipe the look of revulsion off my face. Althea was right. I shouldn’t judge someone, especially someone I’d never met, based on their supposed belief in the supernatural.

  Tina nudged me. “If you keep pursing your lips while squinting like that, your face is going to get stuck looking like that painting of the American Gothic chick.”

  Althea chuckled. “Watching the two of you together makes me wish I wasn’t an only child.”

  “You don’t have to be an only child.” Tina tossed her arm over Althea’s shoulder. “You can be our honorary sibling.”

  Something happy squeezed in my chest. It felt as if Tina were hugging me too. Despite the danger of a killer on the loose, I no longer wanted to stuff Tina onto a plane and send her away. I wanted her to be here with me and the rest of my makeshift family.

  I was so wrapped up in all this familial happiness I’d forgotten the reason why Althea had called this morning visit. It was Tina who put us back on track.

  “What did you learn from your uncle?” she asked.

  Althea gave me a cautious look before answering. “He told me something interesting about Mama. He said she’d quit singing with the band because there was talk, vicious talk about her having an affair with Bubba.”

  Ezell had just told us how Stan had lied about Bubba’s supposed affair, but he’d left out the part about Bertie. “None of that talk was true, though,” I told her. “Your mother wasn’t having an affair with Bubba.”

  “I know that,” Althea said sharply. “Of course the talk was wrong. But Uncle Kamba said, true or not, the rumors caused all sorts of trouble between Mama and Daddy. It may have been the reason why Mama had me so late in life. Did you know she was thirty-six when she had me? That was old for back in the seventies.

  “She’d been focused on her career at the naval base and had been busy singing with The Embers. She hadn’t really wanted a child. But soon after quitting The Embers, she got pregnant with me, and then she quit her job at the naval base too. Her life completely changed. Turned on its head.” Althea frowned. “Kind of makes me sad. She had me in order to smooth things over with Daddy?”

  Both Tina and I pulled Althea into our arms. “You know your mother thinks the world of you,” Tina said.

  “No woman ever loved her daughter more,” I said. “She’s happy.”

  “But her past clearly troubles her,” Althea said. “If it didn’t, she wouldn’t be so secretive about it now. She wouldn’t be running off without telling anyone where’s she’s going. Why is she doing that?”

  “Maybe she’s trying to protect you,” I said. “She doesn’t want you to find out about the rumors and the trouble it caused between her and your father. She doesn’t ever want you to think you weren’t wanted.”

  Althea looked up, and after swallowing hard, she nodded.

  “Thanks, I needed to hear that.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I know you’re right. But I can’t help but feel sad about the terrible time Mama must have gone through. It must have felt like the end of the world for her.”

  Chapter 31

  “George Penn,” came my father’s crisp voice through my cell phone’s speaker.

  I shivered. He’d answered the phone as if he was taking a business call even though it was close to four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon. I didn’t know who he thought he was fooling. I knew his secretary would have told him it was his eldest daughter on the line.

  Keep your cool, I told myself as I stirred the ingredients for my latest attempt at making the perfect sweet-and-spicy bonbon fire while Tina worked out front.

  “Good afternoon, Father,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound petulant. I felt petulant.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, still sounding as if he was talking with a business associate. “What do you need?”

  I took a quick breath and plunged in as if I were diving blindly off a cliff while hoping I’d land in a teacup of water. “As you might recall, I’ve been searching for my mother. I think I might have … um … found her. I was wondering if I sent you a picture of the woman who claims to be her that you’d take a look at it and tell me if she looks at all familiar.”

  He didn’t answer right away. And when he did, his voice sounded even chillier than before. “Charity, I’ve already told you that I don’t remember much about her. It was such a long time ago. Have this woman take a DNA test. It’ll be more conclusive. And for God’s sake, Charity, don’t give the woman any money or let her give any interviews.”

  I closed my eyes. He should have known by now that I was smarter than that. Thanks to the countless lies and betrayals I’d endured over the years, I’d erected such ironclad barriers that I barely trusted even close friends like Althea and Bertie.

  Instead of telling him any of that, I simply said, “Yes, Father.”

  “Once you get the DNA results, I expect you’ll send me a copy,” he said. I could tell he was ready to get off the phone.

  “She won’t agree to take a test,” it pained me to tell him.

  “Charity!” he barked. “You should know better than to believe this woman. If she’s not willing to prove she’s your mother, she’s clearly not your mother. If this faker goes to the press, it’ll only upset your grandmother.”

  “But if I could send you some pictures of her and her sisters, perhaps you—”

  “You should be glad to have the family you have and not worry about finding a woman who couldn’t be bothered with offering even part-time care,” he said right over me.

  “But I found my maternal grandmother. I sent you a copy of the DNA report, remember?”

  “And I’ll tell you again what I said to you then. I cannot remember anything about your mother. It happened a long time ago, and I didn’t have a relationship with her. It was a mistake. She conned me into believing things I shouldn’t have believed. That’s what fortune tellers do, though. They con people. Like a nesting parasite, she took advantage of a young well-to-do college boy and then left him to take responsibility of her offspring. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I have a tee time that starts in a few minutes.”

  He disconnected the call.

  Well, that had gone about as well as I’d expected. I sprinkled finely chopped jalapeño peppers into a mixing bowl.

  At least he’d told me something I’d wanted to hear, I mused before deciding I needed some fresh air. He’d told me that Florence wasn’t my mother.

  Sure, he had no way of knowing if it was true, but I enjoyed hearing him say it. As I clutched that thought tightly to
my chest, I headed out the shop’s back door.

  I’d barely made it more than a few steps onto the patio when Harley came around the corner.

  I was surprised to see him without his surfboard. I’d never seen him dressed in a suit and tie on a Sunday. No matter the weather, he would find his way to the waves. I always figured surfing was his religion.

  “Are you coming from church?” I asked him.

  He looked down at his suit and shook his head. “No, not church. I spent the afternoon in Edward’s office.”

  Any happiness I was feeling at the thought (wrong or not) that Florence wasn’t my mother dropped into the pit of my stomach like a ten-pound sack of flour. “Edward? As in my uncle who is suing me Edward? What could he possibly want to talk to you about? And on a Sunday?”

  “He says he wants to make a deal.”

  “Do you think this is Florence’s doing?” I still couldn’t bring myself to think of her as my mother. “She said she’d get him to drop the lawsuit.”

  “I don’t know, Penn. He didn’t mention her. It could be that he knows his case can’t possibly stand up in court and he’s trying to get what he can out of you by pretending to be the good guy.”

  “You sound nearly as suspicious as I usually do,” I said.

  “I’m a lawyer. I get paid to be suspicious.”

  “I hope you’re not charging me triple-time for working on a Sunday. My family might be rolling in dough, but I’m not. My grandmother keeps my trust fund locked up behind so many trustees and red tape, it’s nearly impossible to get access to any of it.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m not charging you. Not for today. Not for battling the Maybanks for what is rightfully yours. This, I’m doing for you as a friend. You should know that.”

  “Should I?” I quickly waved the words away as if erasing a chalkboard, because those two words opened a door to a conversation that felt more vulnerable than I was ready for right now.

  “Penn, you should know that I—”

  I blurted, “I called my father.”

  He raised a brow. “You did?”

  “He won’t provide any help,” I said.

  He didn’t act surprised.

  “He said I should tell Florence to take a DNA test or else forget that she ever talked to me.”

  “She’d like it if you forgot what she told you,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “So why did she tell you?”

  “I don’t know. Carolina might be dead.” I’m not sure why I told him that. It was really just a queasy feeling that had started sloshing around in my chest since I’d spoken with Ezell about why Carolina left. Nothing, not even that conversation with my father, could vanquish the queasiness.

  He chewed on that thought for a while. “That would explain why she’s never contacted any of her family members in the past forty-odd years.” He frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be,” was the best I could answer.

  “Are you going up?” He nodded toward the stairs leading to our apartments. “I have a roast in the slow cooker. I’d be happy to share.”

  “My sister is in town,” I reminded him.

  “She’s welcome to come too. And Bertie. And”—he sighed—“Stella.”

  “What about Gavin? I thought this was your weekend with him.”

  “It is. But he’s hanging out with his friend Tom. They have some big hush-hush project they’re working on. He said he’d be back in time to go with me to tonight’s concert.”

  “When you have such little time with him, it must be difficult to let him go.”

  “Harder than you might imagine. But, at the same time, I want him to be able to have a regular childhood and spend time with his friends.” His lips pulled into a wistful grin. “I do get him for the entire month of July and a couple of weeks in August. So that’s something.”

  “You’re a good father,” I said.

  “Keep telling me that. Perhaps one day I’ll believe it.”

  I would have done just that, but a late-model red sedan came careening down the road as if it was completely out of control. The two of us ran around to the front of the Chocolate Box. We both watched in horror as the car made a sharp turn and bounced over the shop’s low front porch. Wheels spinning wildly, the car crashed through the front of the shop.

  The plate glass window shattered into millions of pieces.

  “Not again!” I cried.

  Forget the building, I told myself. Someone might be hurt. I ran straight to the red sedan. Steam poured out from the hood of what looked an awful lot like Bubba’s car.

  “I’ll call the authorities,” Harley said. His phone was already in his hand.

  The sedan driver’s side door had been flung open. I poked my head into its interior, expecting to find a medical emergency.

  It was empty.

  Maybe the driver had been ejected from the car.

  I held my breath and visually scanned the building’s badly damaged porch, troubled by what I might find.

  Nothing.

  “Stars and garters! What in a rotten melon rind is happening in this town?” Alvin shouted as he ran out of the gaping hole that used to be the front of my shop. “Done gone and started thinkin’ the ceiling is going to collapse on our heads after that chrome grill came flying through the window.”

  “Is everyone okay?” I asked. “Did you see who did this? Where’s the driver?”

  “Didn’t see nothing but that dang car careenin’ toward us. The car done come right at us. Can’t say I stood around watching. Bertie came running at us like a scalded haint and pushed Fox and me clear out of the way.”

  “A scalded what?”

  “Haint! Haint!” he shouted. When he saw the blank look on my face, he added, “Gurl, that’s an angry ghost. Fox and I done come by to get some more of your chocolates while Bubba and Bixby each attended to some business. What a time to be here. We’d just stepped into the shop when it happened. But what can I say?” He patted his belly. “We done needed fuel for our practice session.”

  “But everyone is okay?” I asked again, just as someone inside groaned.

  Alvin and I exchanged worried looks before I hurried through the smashed storefront to get inside. Harley followed a few steps behind us.

  Much to my horror, I found Bertie lying flat on her back, her leg twisted at an odd angle. Fox knelt by her side. Neither of them looked well. Bertie’s skin had turned frighteningly ashen. Fox’s cheeks looked alarmingly green.

  I dropped to Bertie’s side. “Has anyone called EMS?” I demanded.

  Fox swallowed hard. “I did,” he croaked.

  “The fire department is on their way too,” Harley said. “They’ll be able to help.”

  Bertie turned her head toward me. “Gather at the river,” she groaned. “My leg hurts.”

  “Oh, Bertie. Bertie. Bertie,” I babbled, because that’s what I did when I was nervous. “Your hair looks good.” Yep, that was me, the girl who babbled and said stupid things.

  Though I wanted to do … anything … to help ease her pain, I knew keeping her still was the best thing for her until medical help could arrive. I hugged her hand to my chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Hang in there, Bertie,” I whispered. “EMS is on their way. They’ll be able to help you.”

  I prayed it was true.

  It had to be true. If not for Bertie’s talented hands, I wouldn’t be able to keep the shop open. I needed her. I needed her like a child needed her mother.

  “Hang in there,” I whispered again.

  “Don’t look at me like I’m already dead. I’m not going anywhere. I just need to get my leg fixed up.” That was my Bertie. Always so brave.

  I swallowed. Hard. “Did … did you see what happened?”

  “A car busted through the window over there,” she managed to answer, even though she was clearly in great pain.

  “Yes, yes, but did you see the driver?”

  She
shook her head and then groaned. “All I saw was the car. It knocked me flat on my back.”

  I leaned in closer. “Who would do this?”

  “If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn’t be lying here like this, now, would I?” she said, then hissed in pain.

  I winced.

  Thankfully, the police, fire department, and a team of EMTs all arrived at the same time. Glass crunched under their boots while sirens wailed loudly outside.

  I kissed Bertie’s knuckle and started to get up to give the EMTs room to work. Bertie grabbed my hand and pulled my ear close to her face. “The lighthouse,” she rasped. “I’m awfully worried about”—she swallowed hard—“the lighthouse. Look at what happened to Stan.”

  “The old lighthouse?” I asked. I glanced over my shoulder at Harley, who shrugged.

  “She’s talking gibberish,” Alvin said. “Happens when a woman is out of her head with pain.”

  “Has anyone called her daughter?” Fox asked the room at large.

  “Oh, no, she’ll be worried to death. I need to call her.” Because I was flustered, it took longer than usual to work through the menu screens to get to the smartphone’s actual phone function. “What hospital are you taking her to?” I asked the EMTs while selecting Althea’s number from my favorites list.

  Everyone in the shop fell silent as the EMTs wheeled Bertie away. I said another little prayer that she would be okay. Not just because she was vital to the shop but also because I loved this woman with her no-nonsense ways more than I’d ever loved anyone in this world.

  I vowed I would personally make sure that whoever did this to my Bertie would pay.

  Chapter 32

  “What in the world happened here?” Tina demanded. Actually, she used several stronger words when she stepped into the shop through the opening that was once a window, squeezing around the smashed-up sedan.