Mystic Park

by Regina Hart

  Doreen kept a firm grasp on her patience. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning.” Nessa swept a hand to indicate the diner. “Do you think I like to take my lunch break an hour early just to speak with you?”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” Doreen was confused. “I’m here from six in the morning until three in the afternoon. You can join me for coffee in the morning or take a later lunch.”

  “I shouldn’t have to wait in line with your customers to discuss official town business.”

  “You’re welcome to stop by my house on your way home from work.” Doreen had just given Nessa three alternatives to an early lunch. Still the council president’s features remained pinched in disapproval.

  Nessa’s brown eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you have time to be mayor?”

  Doreen wasn’t in the mood for the other woman’s games. “How can I help you, Nessa?”

  The council president straightened and looked down her nose at Doreen. “I’ve heard rumors that Alonzo plans to retire when his term ends in January. Is that true?”

  “Rumors from whom?”

  “Does that matter? Is Alonzo planning to retire?”

  “You’ll need to ask him.” Doreen would neither confirm nor deny the rumors. Alonzo was her fiancé, but his retirement plans were his business to discuss. He’d announce them when he was ready. She wasn’t going to do it for him.

  “You don’t know?” Nessa sounded skeptical. “You’re going to marry the man. Shouldn’t you know his future plans, whether he’s going to be gainfully employed?”

  Doreen checked her silver and pearl Movado wristwatch. The item had been a gift from her son. It was almost half past eleven. The bread still had some time to bake in the oven. Pots of chicken noodle soup and New England clam chowder were both keeping warm on the stove. But she wouldn’t be prepared for the lunch crowd until Nessa left. “Why are you asking about Alonzo’s plans?”

  “He’s the town’s sheriff.” Nessa’s laughter was condescending. “If he’s decided not to run for another term, we should all be concerned. Don’t you agree?”

  “Even if Alonzo retired, the town won’t be left without a sheriff.” Doreen propped a hip against the counter. “Several people already have started campaigning for the position.”

  In her peripheral vision, Doreen noticed the increased number of customers browsing the titles on the bookstore’s shelves as they made their way to the café. Lunch time.

  Nessa followed Doreen’s gaze. “Am I taking you away from something important?”

  “We both work full-time jobs in addition to our responsibilities to the town.”

  “But along with your mayoral duties and your café, you’re planning a wedding. How’s that going, by the way?”

  “Fine, thank you. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Doreen glanced behind Nessa toward her arriving customers. The older couple Megan had hired to help part-time at the café took their positions behind the cash register.

  “Yes.” Nessa checked her gold wristwatch. She glanced at the sign on the wall behind the counter, announcing the day’s special. “I’ll take a cup of chicken noodle soup and a half roast beef on rye to go. And you can add a Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownie to that.”

  “I’ll just be a moment.” Doreen turned toward the kitchen. She exchanged greetings with her part-time assistants.

  Minutes later, she returned to the register with a paper bag containing Nessa’s soup, sandwich, and a slice of the brownie.

  The council president met her at the register to pay for her lunch. “If we continue meeting here to discuss town matters, I’ll become heavier and poorer. Is that your intent?”

  Was Nessa making a joke? Doreen gave the other woman a smile and the benefit of the doubt. “I offered alternatives to lunch at the café.”

  “Those were convenient for you.” Nessa accepted her change.

  Doreen fisted her palm behind the register. “Let me know when you come up with something that better suits your schedule.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Doreen watched Nessa leave. She was tempted to write off the other woman as a miserable person whose mission in life was to be a thorn in the side of every Trinity Falls mayor. But Ramona McCloud, the former mayor, insisted Nessa had never given her any trouble. Either Ramona was an exception to Nessa’s plan or Nessa’s mission was personal to Doreen. Had she done something to offend the council president?

  The sound of a key in the front door lock Tuesday afternoon eased some of Benita’s tension—only some. She stood in the archway between Ms. Helen’s foyer and living room, waiting for her great-aunt to walk through the door.

  “Where have you been?” Benita strained to keep an even tone.

  Ms. Helen froze with her hand on the doorknob. She stared at Benita as though she’d never seen her before. “Who are you? My mother?” The older woman locked the door, muttering about family members who acted like prison guards.

  “I got back from lunch at Books and Bakery, and you weren’t here.” Benita tracked Ms. Helen’s progress across the foyer and through the living room. She followed her great-aunt into the kitchen. “You didn’t leave a note. I didn’t know where you were or when you’d be back.”

  “You live in Los Angeles. You never know where I am or when I’ll be back.” Ms. Helen crossed to the stove and plucked the tea kettle from the front burner. She carried it to the sink. “Why is today different?”

  “Because, for the next month, I’m living with you in your house.” Benita wondered if her head would explode. She’d never been so worried as when she’d come home and found her great-aunt missing. “The next time you leave the house when I’m not home, could you please leave me a note so I know where you are?”

  “No.” Ms. Helen filled the kettle with water from the faucet, then returned it to the front burner. “Would you like some tea?”

  Benita caught her breath. No? “What do you mean no?”

  “No, I won’t write a note when I leave the house whether or not you’re home.” Ms. Helen turned on the flame beneath the kettle. “Tea? I won’t ask again.”

  “Yes, please.” Benita crossed to the kitchen table. She drummed her fingers on its surface. What could she say to convince her great-aunt not to disappear without a trace in the future? “Why won’t you leave me a note?”

  “I know you, Benny. Next you’ll want to know who I’m with, what I’m doing, and when I’ll be back. You and I aren’t doing that.” Ms. Helen pulled tea bags, sweeteners, mugs, and teaspoons from the cupboards and drawers. “I’m not asking you to let me know where you are every minute of the day. I’d appreciate the same respect.”

  “This isn’t a matter of respect. It’s about your safety.” Benita sighed her frustration. “I’m not an elderly woman, wandering the town alone. I can look after myself.”

  “So can I.” Ms. Helen leaned against the counter beside the stove. Her obstinate look conveyed her refusal to be reasoned with.

  Benita dropped the subject. For now. “How was your afternoon?”

  “Is this where you pump me for information?” Ms. Helen gave her a knowing smile. “I was at the Guiding Light Community Center.”

  “I could’ve taken you there, if I’d known you were going.” Subtle?

  Ms. Helen arched a thin gray brow. “I have a car. I drove myself.”

  Stubborn. Benita struggled with a smile. She admired her great-aunt. She liked to think she’d inherited some of Ms. Helen’s determination. “Did you have lunch with friends?”

  “You could say that.” The kettle whistled. Ms. Helen turned off the stove and filled the mugs with hot water. “I had a lunch meeting with Vaughn and the center’s director.”

  Vaughn. The sound of his name made her heart leap like a schoolgirl with a painful crush. “What was the meeting about?”

  “Vaughn wants to produce a play at the center.” Ms. Helen carried the two mugs of tea to the table. She h
anded one to Benita before sitting.

  “What kind of play?” The scent of lemons rose from the steaming mug. Vaughn had been composing songs for a script. As far as she knew, he wasn’t anywhere near finished, though.

  “It’s a musical.” Ms. Helen stirred sweetener into her tea.

  “A musical?” Benita froze. Her mind went blank.

  “It makes sense.” Ms. Helen sipped her tea. “He’s a band director.”

  Benita’s tea was forgotten. Her mind spun with questions, almost too many to hold. When had he finished his musical? How was he going to produce it? Who was going to assist him with it? What can I do to help him? Why hadn’t he told me?

  “I knew about his musical.” Benita poured two packets of sweetener into her mug. Her hands barely trembled. “He’s been working on it for years. I just hadn’t realized he’d finished it. Or that he hoped to perform it at the community center.”

  “It sounds interesting. The story’s based on Caribbean folklore.”

  “It’s a love story about a mortal man, a farmer, who falls in love with a water fairy. The villain is a water spirit, Mama D’Leau, who’s part woman and part serpent.” Benita drank her tea. It helped.

  Ms. Helen took another sip. “He’s holding an audition April twenty-second.”

  Sadness twisted into temper. Benita shook her head in disbelief. “He used to talk about his script all the time. I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me he’d finally finished it.”

  “I do.” Ms. Helen shrugged. “He spends time with you maybe three weeks out of the year.”

  Benita’s eyes widened. She released her mug and spread her hands. “We call each other all the time. We e-mail. We even Skype.”

  “And you think that sustains a relationship?” Ms. Helen leaned into the table. “He’s not leaving Trinity Falls and you’re not leaving Los Angeles, so what kind of a relationship do you really have?”

  “I’ve asked him to move to L.A. with me.”

  “And he’s asked you to come home to Trinity Falls.” Ms. Helen sat back, shaking her head with apparent disappointment. “Relationships are about compromises. One of you is going to have to compromise and I think it should be you.”

  Benita’s lips parted with shock. “Why me?” She could have sworn her great-aunt supported her need to follow her dream.

  “Everyone you love and everything you care about is in this town.”

  “What about my career?”

  “You don’t enjoy it nearly as much as you pretend.”

  Am I really that transparent? Benita dropped her gaze to the table. “How did you know?”

  “You didn’t plan a month’s stay in Trinity Falls just to help me celebrate my upcoming endowed chair.” Ms. Helen pushed back her chair and crossed to the sink. “You’re here to decide what you want to do now and where you want to do it.”

  “I know where I want to live.” Benita regarded the tiny woman’s back.

  Ms. Helen washed her mug, then set it on her drain board. “You may think you do.”

  Benita watched her great-aunt leave the kitchen. The woman thought she knew everything. That was a family trait. Ms. Helen was right that Benita had grown increasingly disenchanted with her career as an entertainment lawyer and celebrity business manager. But she was wrong if she thought Benita had changed her mind about living in L.A. She intended to put down roots there. What did she need to do to convince Vaughn to join her?

  “I’m announcing my retirement in December.” Alonzo watched as surprise, confusion, then disappointment swept across Deputy Juan Ramirez’s tan features.

  The two men sat in Alonzo’s office Wednesday morning drinking coffee. Juan sat in one of the gray visitor’s chairs on the other side of his desk. He’d worked with the younger man for three years, since he’d been elected sheriff. In that time, they’d become friends.

  “Is this your April Fool’s joke? It’s not funny.” Juan cradled his white coffee mug against his torso.

  “It’s not April Fool’s Day.” It was only Wednesday, March twenty-fifth. The muscles twisting in Alonzo’s gut eased as he thought of his retirement. “And I’m not joking. I’m serious.”

  “I can’t believe you’re planning to retire. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sixty-six years old. I’ve earned it.” Alonzo lowered his gaze to his coffee. He was using one of the sheriff’s office’s mismatched ceramic mugs. This one was black. It was easier not to be distracted by coffee stains in your mug when you couldn’t see them.

  “Sixty-six isn’t dead, Sheriff.” Juan straightened on the chair. “Why do you want to retire?”

  “I thought you’d be happy.” Alonzo grinned at the deputy, whose youthful features belied his thirty-seven years of age. “Now you won’t have to campaign against me to remove this old man from office and make room for more youthful energy and ideas.”

  “I don’t want to be sheriff.” Juan snorted a laugh.

  “You should consider it.” Alonzo sobered. “You’d make a good one.”

  “We have a good one.” Juan spread his arms. “Marrying Doreen doesn’t mean you have to give up your career.”

  “I’m ready to start this new chapter of my life.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Making myself worthy of Doreen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He’d said more than he’d intended. But maybe another law enforcement officer could understand. Alonzo settled his gaze on a corner of his office and let his mind play scenes from his past. “Doreen has spent her whole life helping to build this community. She’s served on committees to raise money for the schools, the volunteer fire department. She led the Sesquicentennial Celebration Committee.”

  “She pushed for a lot of improvements in the town, including the lights in Freedom Park.” Juan shifted on his chair. “But what does that have to do with you?”

  “She’s helped people.” Alonzo heaved a sigh. “I’ve hurt people, a lot of them.”

  “You’ve protected communities.” Juan’s tone was firm.

  “At what cost?” Alonzo wiped his hand across his brow. Gun battles, screams, death, and blood—that’s what he had to live with, thanks to his past.

  “I know you’ve seen a lot more action than I have. But I also know that everything you’ve done was to protect people in the communities you served.”

  “There’s blood on my hands, Juan.” Alonzo’s voice was low. “Until I wash them clean, I won’t feel worthy of someone like Doreen.”

  “You’re a good man, Sheriff.” Juan’s words were adamant. “I know that and so does Doreen.”

  “Doreen doesn’t know about my past.” Alonzo sighed again. He should have confessed everything to her before he’d proposed. That would have been the honorable thing to do before asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. But he hadn’t had the courage to take the risk.

  “Then tell her.” Juan shrugged his broad shoulders. “You’ll see that her opinion of you won’t change. She loves you.”

  Alonzo’s gaze slid away. Would she still love him once she knew about his past?

  CHAPTER 4

  “So, who’s going to sit in my chair?” Ms. Helen settled onto one of the four crimson red cushioned seats ringing the small honey wood circular conversation table in Dr. Foster Gooden’s office.

  It was the last Friday morning in March. Benita had joined Foster and Ms. Helen at Trinity Falls University to discuss the endowed chemistry chair a wealthy alumna was gifting to the university in Ms. Helen’s honor.

  Benita sat beside her great-aunt and allowed her gaze to roam the room. The vice president for academic affairs’ office was modest in size, masculine in appearance, and compulsive in order. A thin layer of anxiety covered the office as though all was not as well with the university as the administration would have you believe.

  She turned away from her perusal of Foster’s family photographs. He’d sacrificed one whole bookshelf to the captured memories.

>   Benita grinned at Ms. Helen. “‘The Doctor Helen Gaston Endowed Chemistry Chair.’ This is a tremendous honor, not just for my great-aunt but for our entire family.”

  Ms. Helen squeezed Benita’s left hand where it lay on the table beside her. Her voice swelled with laughter. “If it’s such an honor for the family, why are you the only one here?”

  “Everyone else is afraid of you.” Benita slid the older lady a look. “You told us not to come. I’m the only one who didn’t listen.”

  Foster chuckled. “We’re glad you could make it, Benita.” He turned to Ms. Helen. “We haven’t made a formal announcement to the faculty about the chair yet. We want you to be present for the announcement and involved in selecting the professor for the position.”

  The vice president’s consideration for her great-aunt warmed Benita. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Doctor Gooden. Thank you.”

  Ms. Helen spoke over Benita, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s not necessary, Foster. You and the science division chair can select the professor.”

  Foster shook his head. “We want your input, Doctor Gaston. So does the donor.”

  “Well, that’s just ridiculous.” Ms. Helen’s gaze moved from Foster to Benita, then back. “It’s kind of her to offer the endowment. And I’m honored that she’s named it after me. But you and the science division chair know your faculty. You can choose someone without my input.”

  Benita only half heard her great-aunt’s objections. “What can you tell us about this donor? She sounds very interesting.”

  “Doctor Lana Penn was one of Doctor Gaston’s students.” Foster nodded toward Ms. Helen. “She’s now founder, president, and chief chemical engineer of Penn Research Laboratories, an international pharmaceutical research company. She credits Doctor Gaston with her success.”

  Benita gaped at her great-aunt. “I’ve heard of Penn Research Laboratories.”

  Ms. Helen shrugged. “You and at least three and a half billion other people, half the population of the world.”