Dixie Belle

by Debby Mayne

  To her surprise, they had their order and were out the door in less than five minutes. “Are we taking these back to the office?”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked. “No way. We’d never be able to eat with all the calls coming in. Let’s find a bench somewhere.”

  This was all so new to Cissy—from the older-than-dirt buildings, the crazy-busy deli, and the random benches stuck in the middle of grassy, parklike settings half the size of her parents’ front lawn. She couldn’t help but laugh at the giant button and needle sculpture smack dab in the middle of the fashion district. But in these strange, new surroundings she felt invigorated and liberated.

  Dave unwrapped his sandwich and grinned at her before taking a bite. “I know that look.”

  “What look?” she asked as she carefully removed the onions and repositioned the pickle in her sandwich.

  “The one that tells me you’re scared half to death to be so far away from home but you wouldn’t go back right now because you don’t want anyone to say ‘I told you so.’”

  She looked him directly in the eye and slowly shook her head. “Sorry, Dave, but you got that all wrong.”

  Dave belted out a belly laugh. “Keep telling yourself that, and you might actually start believing it.” He gave her a warm smile of understanding. “Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there.”

  She glanced down at the remnants of her sandwich and thought about how different things were back home. Instead of sitting on a bench in the middle of the loudest city she’d ever been in, she’d be enjoying a salad in a café with someone she’d known all her life.

  Dave shoved the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and crumpled the paper deli bag. “Ready to head on back?”

  Cissy hadn’t finished half her sandwich, but she stood anyway. “I’ll just save the rest of this for later.”

  Dave made a face. “You need to learn to eat faster, Cissy. You’re in New York now.”

  Considering that Dave was her only point of reference, all she could think to do was nod. “I’ll try.”

  As soon as they rounded the last corner toward the office, Dave slowed way down. “Try to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

  “What?”

  “Shh! Look down and keep walking.”

  Nothing he could have said would have made her more curious than that. She looked around until she spotted a petite woman with shoulder-length honey-colored hair and a big smile coming straight for them. “Do you know that woman?” she asked.

  He groaned. “You blew it, Cissy. We’re going to have to talk later.”

  “Hey, Dave.” The woman approached, circled around them, and stopped, folding her arms. “So is she the reason you’ve been too busy to call?”

  Cissy shook her head. “Dave is showing me the ropes.”

  “I just bet he is.” The woman looked her up and down, a hint of amusement in her eyes. Cissy knew that look and understood Dave had nothing to worry about. She was just having a little fun teasing him.

  “My name is Cissy Hillwood.” She extended her hand. “I just got into town yesterday.”

  “It doesn’t take long for some people.” The woman grinned at Cissy as they shook hands. “I’m Charlene Pickford, and I’m from Atlanta. How about you?”

  “I-I can explain,” Dave stuttered. “I—”

  “Hartselle, Alabama.”

  Charlene’s eyes lit up. “I know someone from there. Have you ever heard of Jesse Yarborough?”

  “Yes!” Cissy couldn’t believe this. Here she was, hundreds, maybe thousands of miles from home, and she and this Charlene woman knew someone in common. “He was the assistant principal of my high school until he moved to Atlanta.”

  “Where he was the principal of my high school . . . long after I graduated, but I met him when I had to help my cousin out of a pickle.” Charlene shook her head. “It certainly is a small world. So where are you staying, Cissy Hillwood?”

  “With my uncle, Forest Counts. I’m working for him too at Zippers Plus.”

  “Oh, I get it.” A dawning of understanding replaced her amused expression. She turned to Dave. “So is that what you were trying to explain?”

  Both women turned and waited for Dave to say something, but he just stood there for an uncomfortable few seconds, clearly perplexed. Finally he shuffled his feet and nodded. “I guess.”

  Charlene laughed. “C’mon, Dave, lighten up. I was just funnin’ ya.”

  “Huh?”

  Charlene playfully jabbed Cissy. “Someone needs to give that boy a lesson in how to talk Southern.”

  “Oh,” Dave finally said, smiling. “Well, maybe so, but we really need to get back to the office.”

  Charlene dug around in her handbag, pulled out a card, and handed it to Cissy. “Give me a call sometime, and we can talk. Do you like tea?”

  “Of course,” Cissy said. She glanced at the card and saw that Charlene was the marketing assistant for Paradise Promotional Products. “Who doesn’t?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not talkin’ about sweet tea. There’s this really cute little tea bar a few blocks from here. They serve all kinds of interesting and exotic teas like you never had before. I’d love to meet there sometime, and we can chat. I sure do miss my friends from Atlanta.”

  “Sounds good,” Cissy said as Dave gently pulled her away. “I’ll call you.”

  Once Charlene was out of hearing distance, Dave mumbled, “I wish you hadn’t gotten so chummy with her.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s just using you to get to me.”

  Cissy chuckled. “Why would you say that?”

  “Trust me on this. She works a couple of buildings down from us, and I’ve been having to get creative with when I come and go so I don’t run into her.”

  Cissy didn’t want to burst his bubble of delusion, so she didn’t argue. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Do you know everyone in town?”

  He made a face. “Hardly.”

  They finally reached their office building and went inside. Dave had just lifted his hand to punch the elevator button when the door opened and out stepped Tom Jenkins. The second their gazes met, she felt every ounce of breath escape her body.

  “Steady there, Cissy,” Dave whispered.

  Her lips stuck to her teeth as she tried to smile at Tom. He grinned back.

  “Something fell out of that folder you dropped, so I brought it over. I thought you might need it,” he said. “Your uncle said you wouldn’t be back for a while.”

  “Thank you,” Cissy managed. “What was it?”

  “A zipper . . . a photocopy of a zipper, that is.” Tom laughed at himself.

  “I could have made her another one,” Dave said, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “You didn’t have to bother coming over.”

  “Oh, but this is so much better.” Tom’s gaze never left Cissy’s. “I’d like to get together sometime . . . that is, if you can get away some evening.”

  Her face flamed and her mouth got even dryer as she nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”

  He handed her a business card. “Call my cell phone anytime, and we can make plans.” With a nod toward Dave, he took a step back. “I better let you get back to work.”

  The instant he left, Dave shook his head. “You’ve been here one day, and you have plans with two people. That’s crazy. I go weeks without a date.”

  “Maybe you need to make more of an effort.” Cissy thought for a moment. “Wait a minute. I thought Charlene was interested in you.”

  “Yeah, but she’s a little too . . . well . . . ” He made a face. “She’s all into God and church and stuff, and I don’t really have much time for that.”

  “Maybe you should make time.” Cissy stuck Tom’s card into the side pocket of her purse. “People around here sure do like to hand out business cards. I think I need to get me some.”

  “Yeah.” Dave shook his head as they stepped into the elevator. “I can’t believe I let you talk to Tom Jenkins
. Do you know what your uncle will do if he finds out?”

  “Yes, I do, and I won’t say anything if you don’t.” Cissy held Dave’s gaze to make sure he was listening. “Don’t worry about letting me do anything. I’ve never been one to let others keep me from doing whatever I want.” She gave him one of the smiles Daddy always said was her best weapon, and he let out a groan.

  Chapter 5

  DAVE DIDN’T HAVE to worry about telling Uncle Forest anything. The instant they stepped off the elevator, Uncle Forest met them, waving the zipper diagram around with fiery sparks spewing from his eyes.

  “Did you do this on purpose, Cissy? Because if you did, you and I need to have a serious conversation.”

  Dave scooted away while Cissy remained standing there in a facedown with her uncle. “On purpose? Do what?”

  He shoved the paper at her. “Leave this behind?”

  Cissy glanced over at Dave, who had managed to slip a few steps away. Where was a friend when she needed one?

  She couldn’t very well tell her uncle she didn’t know what he was talking about. That would be a lie. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before turning to look him in the eye.

  “I didn’t do anything on purpose, but I do think it was nice of Mr. Jenkins to deliver it.”

  “So you know he came by here.” Uncle Forest’s eyes got very squinty, reminding her of Mama when she was about to give her the what for.

  “Yes.” Cissy paused and silently said the fastest prayer ever. “He said it fell out of the training binder, and he thought I might need it.” She maintained the glaring gaze with her uncle. If he was anything like Mama, looking away would give him the edge, and she wasn’t about to let him get the best of her. Putting her in the guest room and giving her a job didn’t give him the right to bully her.

  Finally he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Your mama was right. You sure are a handful. Strong willed and determined to do things your own way.”

  “She said that?”

  “Dern tootin’ she did.” Whoa, he wasn’t kidding when he said he still had a Southern accent. “She said that and then some.”

  So much for Mama’s loyalty. “I might be a handful, but I’m honest, loyal, and a hard worker.” Cissy folded her arms. “Did Mama tell you that?”

  He pursed his lips. “Yes. And she also said I might have to save you from yourself. I should have paid closer attention and read between the lines before I opened my trap.”

  “What are you saying?” Cissy felt the dreaded rush she experienced right before she lost her job in Hartselle. “Do you want me to go back to Alabama?”

  Uncle Forest raked his fingers through his thinning hair. “No, that would be too easy. I’m not giving up on you.” To her surprise, he grinned. “Besides, you’re not the only one in the family with a stubborn streak. You come by it honestly.”

  No kidding.

  His expression softened a tad as he put his arm around Cissy and led her to her desk. “Your mulishness will either make you a star in this business . . . ” He lifted one eyebrow. “Or break you and send you packing.” He pointed to her chair. “Now sit and study. I want you ready to start selling by next week.”

  He hovered over her desk for a few seconds, so in spite of not wanting to look at him again, she knew that was the only way to get her uncle to leave her alone. “What?” she asked as she met his gaze.

  “Jenkins isn’t a good guy. He’d send his own mama up the river if he thought it might be good for business.”

  “Oh, come on, Uncle Forest. I’m sure—”

  “Trust me on this.” He spun around and left her sitting there pondering their conversation. As the minutes ticked away, she felt her frustration fade.

  Cissy did everything she could to concentrate on the attributes of various sewing notions, but the activity in the office was way more interesting. Uncle Forest seemed constantly on the verge of a hissy fit that made hers look like a picnic with butterflies and spring flowers. He’d kept his office door open, so she was in his direct line of vision. One of the other sales reps alternated between making calls and applying makeup to an already very theatrical-looking face. Dave’s voice rose as he tried to save a customer. She wanted to tell him to change his tactic to agreeing with the person on the other end of the line. As it was, he created a negative energy that made the caller an adversary. If they were in Alabama, she would have said something about winning people over with sweetness, but she was on different turf now. Give her a week, and she’d have a better feel for the territory. Every now and then she caught even more of a glimpse of Uncle Forest’s Southern upbringing. His voice dripped with honey as he spoke to prospective customers, but the harder edge returned during negotiations with a supplier. As annoyed as she was with him, she couldn’t miss his fine balance between charm and business acumen.

  Toward the end of the workday, as the rest of the employees got ready to leave, Cissy started straightening her desk. Uncle Forest hung up and walked over to her.

  “What’re you doing?”

  She glanced up at him. “Getting ready to go?”

  “We’re not leaving yet,” he said. “I still have another hour’s worth of work to do before I can even think about going home.”

  “But everyone else is—”

  He gave her a wicked-looking grin. “We’re not everyone else. I own this company, remember?”

  Cissy forced a smile. “Yes, of course.” She bit her tongue before saying what was really on her mind—that she just might go crazy if she read another word about zippers or buttons or thread or . . . or anything else about sewing. Until now the only things she knew about sewing were what she’d learned in home ec. And once she finished hemming that A-line skirt back in tenth grade, she vowed she’d never sit in front of a sewing machine again.

  By the time Uncle Forest packed his briefcase, Cissy wondered if she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this job. Maybe she should have stayed back in Alabama and ridden out the wrath of Hartselle. She thought for a moment as she followed Uncle Forest to the elevator. Nah, it would be a month of Sundays before folks got past their favorite hero being behind bars.

  “So how’d you like your first day on the job?” Uncle Forest asked as he started the car.

  “There sure is a lot to learn. How many sewing notions do I have to know about?”

  He snorted. “You remind me of your mama right now, answering a question with a question.”

  “Really? Mama doesn’t like when I do that. It annoys her.” Cissy sighed. “Come to think of it, everything I do annoys her.”

  “Your mama adores you, and you know it. I had to talk her into letting you come all the way up here. When I heard what happened to that loser, I knew what you were in for. Did you ever hear about what his daddy did to me?”

  “Spencer’s daddy?”

  Uncle Forest nodded. “Yeah, Spencer’s daddy. He was just like Spencer—spoiled rotten just because he could catch a football and make it to the goal line without getting knocked over. The only way he graduated was with the teachers’ help and a little bit of cheating that they turned a blind eye to.” He shook his head. “He just about destroyed me.”

  “I didn’t realize that,” Cissy said. “What did he do to you?”

  “I was always pretty good in science, so right before the homecoming game the teacher asked me to tutor him just so he could pass the six-week exam. If he didn’t make at least a C, he wouldn’t be able to play in the game that would bring the school all the glory they craved.” A pensive look crossed his face. “It was futile, though. No matter what I said or how many memory tricks I taught him, I couldn’t get through his thick skull. I knew a lot was riding on it because Hartselle High School was in the running for our division’s state championship.”

  Cissy smoothed the front of her shirt. “I think I know where this is going.”

  “So I let him look at my paper during the exam.”

  That so wasn’t what she
expected. “You cheated?”

  He grimaced. “Afraid so. But that’s not even the worst part. We got caught.”

  “Ouch.” Cissy made a face. “That’s terrible.”

  “And that’s not the half of it. I also lied and backed him up, saying I’d copied his paper.”

  “You didn’t.” Cissy looked at him in bewilderment. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “I wonder the same thing myself. It really didn’t matter anyway. We both got in trouble, and he wasn’t able to play in the game.”

  Cissy offered a sympathetic smile. “Dare I ask who won the championship?”

  “We did.” He grinned right back at her. “That made things even worse. Spencer’s daddy was not only a liar and a cheat; he wasn’t even needed to win the game. Nothing was ever the same for either of us after that.” He flinched. “From then on he blamed me for everything that went wrong.”

  “So is that why you came to New York?”

  “No, another scandal happened shortly after that, and everyone pretty much forgot what happened—well, except Bubba McCully and me. I came to New York for the opportunity to build an international business.”

  “Have you seen Mr. McCully since you left?”

  Uncle Forest gave her a quick glance. “Nope. And I never heard anything about him either . . . that is, until your fiasco with his son.”

  “Sounds to me like his son inherited some bad blood.” Cissy turned her attention to the scenery as they made their way to Long Island.

  Uncle Forest changed the subject and talked about his sons as he drove. As the house came into view they saw Aunt Bootsie standing on the porch shielding her eyes. Cissy turned to her uncle. “Must be nice to have someone so excited to see you every day.”

  “I’m not the one she’s excited to see.” Uncle Forest pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. “You’ve just breathed new life into our home merely by being here. I don’t remember the last time she watched for me.”

  She noted the sadness in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. We just miss the boys.” He opened his car door. “Are you going to get out or just sit here and make your aunt worry?” Uncle Forest scooted out of the car and leaned over, looking at her. “I’d be willing to bet anything she’s been cooking all afternoon.” As he straightened, she heard him mumble, “To think we have to have company to get a decent meal around here anymore.”