by Rhett DeVane
Hattie mentally reviewed Mary-Esther’s visit as she led the way to the car. Jake’s response had surely dampened her initial new-sister! enthusiasm. His words stung: You’re too trusting, Sister-girl. You believe everyone has honest motives. What if this woman is some kind of con? You’ll get your little feelings crushed, or worse.
Would Holston react in the same way? Was that why she hadn’t shared this with him yet? Hattie stuffed the niggling doubts. She’d tell him over lunch.
Holston caught up to her and grabbed her hand. “What happened to your pre-Thanksgiving fast?”
“Can’t fathom you’d ask a woman tormented by ‘white girl shoulder’ to deny herself one little pleasure. I’m having curly fries too.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Mary-Esther noticed the odd pair of midmorning diners as soon as they chose a corner booth: the lanky, sharply dressed owner of the florist shop a block down West Washington and the old woman who periodically came in to have a cup of tea and stare at her. The woman struggled to sit down then the man folded the walker and leaned it against the end of the table.
Mary-Esther palmed the moisture from her hands onto her apron and walked to their booth. “Good morning. What can I get you to drink?”
The man spoke first. “I’ll have a tall glass of unsweetened iced tea.”
“Hot water for me. I have my own green tea bag. I prefer it over black tea. Antioxidants.” She bobbed her head once to drive her point home.
From the old woman’s sullen expression, Mary-Esther figured she might need more than antioxidants. Reminded her of a grade school teacher she once had. Sour, full of reasons why Mary-Esther was far from perfect.
After Mary-Esther delivered the beverages, she pulled out a pad and pencil.
“We didn’t come in to eat,” the man said. “We’d like a few minutes of your time.”
“Huh?”
“We purposely picked a time when you might not be as busy. Please . . .” The woman motioned to a spot next to her. The pruned expression morphed to something a bit less threatening but still stern.
Mary-Esther shrugged and slid onto the edge of the booth seat.
“I know we’ve seen each other but never been properly introduced. I’m Jake Witherspoon. I own the Dragonfly Florist.”
“And I’m Elvina Houston. I’m the business coordinator for the Triple C Day Spa and Salon.”
Mary-Esther blinked, lifted her shoulders up, then down.
Jake flashed a smile. Unlike the woman, his eyes echoed kindness. “This may seem a little strange, so I’ll dive to the point. What, exactly, are your intentions regarding Hattie?”
“Intentions?” Mary-Esther tucked one strand of loose hair behind her ear. “I don’t follow.”
“I’ve been Hattie’s best friend, well, practically since birth,” Jake stated. “I love her better than my blood kin, and I’ll do anything to protect her from harm.”
Elvina added, “Hattie’s aunt, Piddie Davis Longman, was my best friend. I consider myself part of their family.”
Mary-Esther crossed her arms over her chest and regarded the two. “So, you’re here to what, interrogate me?” One thing about living in a small, close-knit community: you can count on your contemporaries to come to your rescue, even if you aren’t drowning.
Jake flipped one hand dismissively. “Interrogate is such a strong word.” He paused. “Hattie told me about your visit to The Hill and this claim to be her blood kin.”
“I didn’t claim anything.” Heat crawled up Mary-Esther’s neck and warmed her cheeks.
Elvina rested a hand over Jake’s, reminding Mary-Esther of one tag-team runner passing the baton to the next.
“Perhaps we’re coming across as a bit harsh, dear. What Jake is trying to say is that Hattie has been through quite a lot in the past few years, what with losing her last parent, and then that awful cancer. She’s so sensitive.”
Elvina stopped to drop a tea bag into the steaming cup of water. “The one thing Hattie has always longed for is her older sister. You see, no one talked about Sarah after she died. It hurt Miz Tillie too much. It’s like Sarah was this big hole in Hattie’s life.”
Mary-Esther took a deep breath and tried not to sound defensive. “If that’s the case, I would think you both would be happy about me showing up.”
Elvina dipped her tea bag up and down in the hot water then said, “We would be eternally delighted if what you are proposing is true.”
“But,” Jake added, “please, please, please don’t set Hattie up for a fall.”
A three-time plea? Had a lot of emotion behind it. Mary-Esther tightened her arms. The heck with playing nice. “Seems to me, you’re under the impression I’m some gold-digging grifter who’s blown into town to wreak havoc.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Hattie’s not the only one who’s had a bad couple of years. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have others to attend to.”
Jake reached over to Mary-Esther when she swiveled to stand. “Look, Elvina and I aren’t Attila the Hun’s advance henchmen. All we want is some assurance you’re not going to hurt Hattie or any of the Davis family.”
“And how can I do that . . . assure you?”
“A DNA test,” Elvina answered.
Mary-Esther felt her brows crimp together. She’d have a permanent wrinkle if she wasn’t careful.
“Elvina and I will pay for it,” Jake said. “All we need is a bit of your spit on a swab. If you are a Davis, you’ll know for sure. And so will we.”
“If not,” Elvina added, “you mustn’t lead Hattie down a road that will cause her great suffering.”
Mary-Esther stood and smoothed her apron. “Order the kit.”
“We apologize if anything we’ve said has offended you,” Jake said. “Not our intent.”
Mary-Esther looked first at Jake, then at Elvina, and couldn’t help but smile. “Hattie doesn’t have to worry about hiring henchmen.”
*
Mary-Esther reached the walkway of Sewanee Springs Assisted Living.
“Hey, gal. Over here!” LaJune called from the first white wicker seat.
Mary-Esther sent mental gratitude toward the heavens. No need to deal with the Southern belle watchdog at the front desk. “I’m surprised to find you on the porch this afternoon, LaJune.”
The senior patted the cushioned chair beside hers. “I was pleased as punch when you phoned to say you were stopping by. Figured I’d pass the time out here ’til you arrived. Not many more days like this one due us, what with November here. Funny thing about the weather this time of year.” She looked up, scanning the blue, cloudless sky. “It’s like a moody child. Can’t decide between being one way or the opposite. We’ll have a couple of days when the north air whips down and nearly brings a frost to the pumpkins, then the next spell will turn off mild.” She leveled her head and faced Mary-Esther. “I try to get out and get a little fresh oxygen when it’s like today. Not good for a person to breathe nothing but bottled-up air.”
Today was obviously a day when all of the brain cells engaged. Good deal. No lectures on garden vegetables.
“I have a little screened room where I live, and I spend as much time out there as possible.” She handed LaJune a small, plastic container. “Brought you something.”
LaJune’s green eyes lit up and she popped open the lid. “Cookies! Did you make these yourself?”
“Baked them yesterday, especially for you. It’s my Nana Boudreau’s recipe. She called them Christmas Crescents, but I like them any time of the year. They’re anise shortbread with powdered sugar.” Mary-Esther frowned. “Although, I completely forgot to ask if you are okay eating sweets.”
“I don’t have a sugar problem. Lots of these old folks here do. Not me. No, ma’am. I get a touch of the gout in my big toe if I eat a lot of ham on account of the salt, but sweet things don’t bother me. Still, I will sneak a bite of ham from time to time. If I get the gout, I suffer past it. Got to take the good with the bad in this l
ife.” The old woman winked. “Not a thing wrong with me except old age, Marilyn.”
“Mary-Esther,” she gently corrected. In the handful of times she had been back to visit the old woman, Mary-Esther had been tagged with various names starting with an M. Some she had never heard.
“What brings you over to my neck of the woods today? You didn’t say when you called.” LaJune bit into a cookie. Powdered sugar rimmed her lips.
“To see you, for one.” Mary-Esther tipped her head toward the pick-up. “And I’m returning the truck I’ve been driving, and rescuing my van. It had to have a new engine.”
“I wondered why you were in that one you’re driving. Thought you’d gotten the car fever and traded.”
“Nope.” If car fever bit her butt, she’d certainly not switch a battered van for an equally battered pick-up.
“An engine.” LaJune’s lips formed an O. “My, isn’t that going to cost you a pretty penny?”
“About two thousand. But I’m lucky. The man who did the work cut me a little slack on the labor.”
“Do you need some money, sugar? I’ve got plenty,” LaJune said in a lowered voice. Mary-Esther glanced at the elderly man at the other end of the porch. Appeared to be asleep.
“Oh, no, LaJune.” She patted the old woman’s hand. “Kind of you to offer. I have a little savings.” No use mentioning those savings added up to less than two hundred dollars or that she’d have to string the engine payment out for months. “Maybe you shouldn’t advertise you have money to spare. There are people who might take advantage.”
“You’re not just anyone, Matilda.” LaJune offered a toothy grin. Cookie goo speckled her gums. “Would you like to stay and eat supper? I can tell them to set you a place.”
“I would love to, but some other time. I’m having dinner with someone.”
LaJune leaned over and asked, “Is it a young man?” One white brow arched.
“He’s a friend, the one who let me borrow the truck.”
“He from here? Maybe I know his people. What’s his name?”
“Jerry Blount. He’s a sergeant for the Gadsden County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Blount. Jerry Blount.” LaJune tapped her chin with a finger. “Bet that’s Harold Blount’s boy. He ought to be in his late fifties or more by now. Law feller. That him?”
“Probably. I haven’t met his relatives.” Yet, wasn’t that the next step? Mary-Esther’s mouth went dry.
“If it’s him, that’s the saddest story about his daddy. He shot hisself when Jerry was a teenager. Don’t think his mama remarried. The boy turned out all right. I figured he went into law enforcement on account of his daddy doing what he done.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Who’s to say? Speaking of relatives, you ever find yours?”
“I think so.” Mary-Esther absorbed the tidbit about Jerry’s life. It made her feel closer to him, somehow—shared pain. “All things seem to point to them, anyway.”
“It’s always a good thing to have people.” LaJune tapped the plastic container. “Fetch us a cup of coffee and we’ll see if the rest of these here cookies are fitting to eat.”
*
Mary-Esther parked the truck behind the white and green police cruiser and studied the house and yard. If the outside of the modest brick house was any indication, Jerry Blount was an organized guy. The grass grew thick and healthy, the hedges were clipped in even lines, and the driveway was swept clean of debris.
The front door opened before she reached the porch and Jerry appeared, waving her inside. “You didn’t have any problems finding the place?” he asked, holding the door ajar.
“Your pointer about looking for the squad car was brilliant.” She stepped into an uncluttered living room. A lemony scent welcomed her. Probably dusting cleaner. Jerry didn’t seem the type to burn fragranced candles.
“Let me take your purse and sweater. I’ll set them on the guest room dresser.” He stepped down a narrow hallway and called back over his shoulder, “Make yourself t’ home. There’s beer in the fridge, also sweet tea, water, and soft drinks.”
Mary-Esther glanced around the room. A few feminine touches belied the former presence of a woman: crocheted doilies, family pictures in decorative frames. Not a shrine to his dead wife, but not a typical single-guy lair. Touching, that Jerry hadn’t tried to erase all traces of her.
She found her way to a galley-style kitchen and located a chilled bottle of beer. On the counter, a large cutting board held an assortment of salad vegetables. Otherwise, sparse and neat.
Jerry reappeared. “Didn’t think to ask what you liked to drink. Guess I should’ve picked up a bottle of wine. I have rum if you’d like a mixed drink. I usually have a lite beer, though not tonight since I have to work later.”
“Beer’s fine. Thanks. When would you like to go pick up the van?”
“I have the keys. We can collect it most anytime. Already paid Milton. Hope you don’t mind. His shop closes at five.”
“Thanks, Jerry. That was nice of you.” She stepped over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Guess I can make payments to you.”
His face flushed slightly. Mary-Esther smiled. A man who blushes. I’m so in trouble. “Appreciate you making me dinner. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Used to cook all the time back when . . .” He stopped. “Hard to get all excited about cooking for one person.”
“What are we having?”
“Figured you weren’t a vegetarian, since you eat gator tail and ham sandwiches.” His mood visibly improved. “I happen to make the most wicked steak this side of the dirt. My secret Blount-family marinade makes the meat so tender, it practically chews itself.” He clapped his hands together once. “That, and a salad and some garlic bread. Okay with you?”
“Sounds fantastic.” Mary-Esther’s mouth watered. “I haven’t had a decent steak in so long I can’t even recall. Can I help?”
“If you want, you could cut up the salad. Everything’s been washed. I’m running a bit behind schedule.” He removed a shallow baking dish from the refrigerator. Two thick steaks rested in a puddle of dark sauce. “I slept longer than usual, and then Mama called ’cause her outside spigot sprung a leak. I just now got home and showered.”
They worked together. Mary-Esther noted how comfortable she had become with this man, in such a short time. She pushed the feelings aside. If she dwelt on it, she would become too afraid to breathe.
Mary-Esther bit into a sliver of seasoned porterhouse and moaned. “This is the best steak I have ever tasted.”
Jerry beamed. “Do I know how to impress a lady, or what?” He sawed off a hunk of meat and chewed. “So, how’s the search for your kinfolk coming along?”
“It has become so convoluted, Jerry. Sure you want to know?”
He doused his salad with ranch dressing. “I have all night. Well, at least until I have to dress for work. By the way, if you aren’t in a rush to get back to the ’hooch, you could stick around and I’ll follow you back to your neck of the woods. I’ll be going over there after check-in.” He tucked into the salad. “I’d like to know you got home safely with the new engine. Those back county roads are awfully dark and deserted. If you had trouble, you’d be at the mercy of a passerby. You really should consider getting a cell phone.”
“Maybe I’ll do that with part of my next paycheck. After I throw some cash your way for getting my van out of hock.”
“Back to the convoluted family story. I’m all ears.” He cupped a hand behind one ear and grinned.
There were those dimples again! “Do you know the Davis family at all?”
“That’d be the ones out the Greensboro Highway, about three miles south of town?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Dan Davis used to run a fix-it shop uptown Chattahoochee for years. Good man. His wife was a teacher at the high school, from what I recall. I know Bobby. He is, or was, a Game and Fish officer.” He paused, took a sip of tea. “Hattie, I don’t know personall
y—just things I’ve heard. Some of the officers see her for massage therapy. When you tote around a heavy gun belt, your back starts to complain.”
He sawed another hunk of meat, speared it.
Hearty appetite. Is that true of everything? Mary-Esther forced her mind back on track. “I may be part of their family.”
He glanced up from his plate. “How’s that?”
Mary-Esther recounted the sum of evidence. Jerry whistled under his breath. “That’s some story. I thought things like that only happened on TV or in the movies. Have you talked to any of them yet?”
“Only Hattie.” She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth. Flavor exploded on her tongue. Homegrown. Somebody cared enough to plant a late crop. Boy, would LaJune approve.
“How’d that go?” he asked.
“She’s ready to join hands and buy matching big sister-little sister outfits.” Mary-Esther felt a smile tempt her lips. “It’s not Hattie who’s been an issue.”
“Bobby?” He harrumphed.
Mary-Esther opened her mouth to tell him she hadn’t met the infamous Bobby Davis then changed her mind. Any information gathered in advance would help.
“That guy used to be junkyard-dog mean at one point. I could see where he might raise a little fuss. Although, from what I hear, he’s been on the wagon for the past few years.”
She knew all about nasty drunks. For sure. “Do you make it your job to learn everything about everyone?” She used a hunk of garlic bread to mop up steak juice. The heck with impressive manners.
“I know Bobby from his days in law enforcement. Didn’t much like dealing with him, but I had to sometimes.” Jerry lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Besides, being nosy gets to be a habit when you’re in this business. I happen to care about folks. Plus, when I know people, I can find someone willing to help me out with information.”
“Good. Put that to use and help me, will you? Hattie may be ready to gather me into the family, no questions asked, but everyone else around here treats me like a freak sideshow.”
He paused, his steak knife in mid-air. “Like who?”
“Jake Witherspoon and Elvina Houston paid me a little visit a couple of days ago.”
