Sweet Southern Comfort

by Candice Poarch

  “Have you been here long?” Her voice was slightly slurred as a result of the stroke, but it still held its commanding timbre.

  “Just arrived.” Approaching her, he leaned over her chair and kissed her soft cheek, then set the bag of books on her table. Pulling up a chair, he sat beside her and took her hand in his.

  “Are these my books? I thought Melanie was bringing them. Have you talked to her?” she asked Monroe.

  He bit off an oath. “She doesn’t want you to worry about business right now. Everyone wants you to get your rest so you can recuperate quickly.”

  “They’re trying to keep me here forever. The nurse brought up the flowers from the tenants. She said Melanie left them at the desk. I asked her why she didn’t come up to my room.”

  “The doctor limited your visitors. We want you to get your strength back so you’ll be good as new.”

  “Bunch of baloney. I want to see Melanie. Bring her with you on your next visit.”

  Like hell. Monroe sighed, struggling for patience. “Grandma…”

  “She’s a wonderful girl, Monroe. Nothing like Dorian. I told you Dorian wasn’t right for you before you married her, didn’t I? But did you listen?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t elevate your blood pressure over it.”

  “I say good riddance. You’re better off without the tramp.”

  “You’re pushing it, Grandma. Leave it alone.”

  “I will not. What kind of woman takes up with your best friend? Melanie would never do that. She’s got character. She’s got grit.”

  “Like you know so much about her.”

  “I do.”

  Monroe gave up. Even half-sick, his grandmother was a force to be reckoned with. If she were well, he’d battle with her. For now, it was best to let her wind down on her own before she worked herself into another stroke.

  But Eudora wouldn’t drop it. “Have you talked to Melanie? Is everything all right at Village Square?” she asked.

  “It’s running fine.”

  “Good. You keep a check on things. Make sure they’re okay. What else is going on in town?”

  “Nothing’s going on. Nothing ever does.”

  “That’s what you think, boy. Never thought a grandson of mine would be so clueless.”

  “What’s got you so moody? Stop worrying about the plaza.” She was sick in the hospital and still worried about those damn stores. He had to convince her to sell.

  “I’m not moody,” she said. “I’m sure Melanie is keeping an eye on things.”

  He was sure she was.

  “I’m a little tired. Think I’ll get ready for bed.”

  Monroe stood to help her, but she pushed him away.

  “I can do it myself.” She gripped the walker with both hands and used her stronger leg to pull herself to a standing position. Then, balancing herself, she took quick little steps to the bathroom.

  Monroe stayed until she was safely in bed.

  “Get a good night’s sleep,” he said, tucking the covers around her shoulders. “I’ll be back in the morning, Grandma.”

  “Don’t run yourself ragged over me,” she said, snuggling comfortably into her pillow. “You need more in your life than work and an old woman. One day you’re going back to wherever. Be nice if you had a good woman on your arm.” She yawned. “Then again, you might stay.”

  “Women, the answer to all of man’s problems,” he said in a voice laced with sarcasm.

  As he walked out of the hospital, the mayor intercepted him. Monroe stifled an oath.

  “Good to see you, Monroe.” He slapped Monroe on the shoulder and pumped his hand as if he were canvassing votes for an election. All he lacked was a big cigar.

  “How’s Mrs. Bedford?”

  “Improving.”

  “Good, good.” He rocked back on his heels. “I’m really worried about her.”

  “I appreciate your concern.”

  “I’d like a word with you if you have the time.”

  Monroe glanced at his watch. “I have a few minutes. Let’s talk on our way to the parking lot.” He started walking and the mayor fell in step with him.

  “I think it’s a good decision to sell Village Square. Bartholomew, Inc. can do wonderful things for this town. The oldest son will be here next week. He wants to see the shops and, since it’s spring break, he’ll see how busy this place can get.”

  “I haven’t agreed to sell. Especially not before I discuss it with my grandmother.” The mayor didn’t need to know his business.

  His expression grave, the mayor said, “Your grandmother hasn’t been herself the last couple of years. She’s started to cling to Melanie Lambert. That woman has an unnatural control over Mrs. Bedford. I hate to say this, but I believe your grandmother’s getting senile.”

  Senile my foot. “You wouldn’t say that if you heard the way she lit into me.”

  “Old folks are just grouchy. But it doesn’t keep people from taking advantage of them when family isn’t around to keep an eye on things. It’s a crying shame. I tried my best to counsel her, but she won’t listen to me. Melanie’s control is too solid.”

  He had a point there, Monroe thought. “Why didn’t you call my father or me?”

  “Didn’t know how to contact you. And Mrs. Bedford would have had my hide.”

  Monroe tightened his lips in anger. In the last two years, he’d been so busy with his divorce and the hostile buyout of his company, he hadn’t seen his grandmother as often as he should have. He didn’t necessarily like the mayor, but he could see by his grandmother’s financial records that she’d been taken advantage of.

  “I think it’s a good thing you aren’t allowing visitors,” the mayor continued. “The tenants would only upset your grandmother.”

  Monroe reached his car. “Thank you for stopping by.”

  “Is there anything you’d like me to tell Bartholomew?”

  “No.”

  “Let me know if I can help you and your grandmother in any way. She was a good woman.”

  “She’s still alive,” Monroe said.

  “Of course. Of course.”

  It was only after Monroe got in the car and slammed the door that the mayor started to walk away. That man was getting to be a pain in the backside about the shopping center. Although Monroe had power of attorney, he wasn’t about to make a decision like selling the plaza until his grandmother was well enough to discuss it with him. It still belonged to her. And he knew how it felt when people sold something you loved against your wishes.

  Eighteen months ago he’d had a wife and a company. Now he had neither.

  They were four friends—Monroe, Peter, Eric and Aaron—who’d met their freshman year at Morehouse. And their friendships had remained strong after they’d graduated, so much so that they’d decided to go into business together. They’d forged their talents and expertise to start an engineering company. Business had exploded and grown at an astonishing rate, much faster than they’d ever dreamed possible.

  When Monroe had visited his grandmother one summer, he’d seen his old high-school sweetheart, Dorian Hicks. They’d hit it off as if they’d never parted. Within six months, they were married.

  Eighteen months ago, he discovered that while he was burning the midnight oil working, Aaron and Dorian were having an affair. Monroe immediately filed for a divorce. It came through a year ago.

  He knew his partner Aaron was a ladies’ man. But he never expected him to betray their friendship or put their business in jeopardy.

  Monroe had ruthlessly put it behind him. He didn’t miss Dorian. It was more the idea of that perfect little nuclear family that seemed as unreachable as the stars above.

  Offers for buyouts were constant. Each partner owned one fourth of the company. They thought it would protect them from a takeover. But they were more than owners. Eric was company CEO. Peter was vice president in charge of accounting. Smooth-talking Aaron was in charge of sales and marketing. Monroe, with his engineering
background, was in charge of their scientific division. It seemed the perfect combination. But not for long. When Dorian left Monroe for Aaron, Peter had pushed Monroe to sell the company and the others had backed him.

  Monroe had wanted to keep the business intact. But he’d stood alone.

  Monroe gazed into the gathering sunset, and couldn’t help but think of his ex. Dorian grew up in Summer Lake. Her family lived there—grandparents, parents, sisters and brothers. All the others were still married. She’d represented stability. He used to picture himself with her surrounded by a huge family fifty years down the road. It might have seemed boring to some, but he grew up a military brat, roaming from base to base. He longed for something constant. He craved roots.

  He had two brothers and two sisters. None of them were married, and they were scattered all around the globe. He was lucky if he saw any of them once in two years. The only constant in his life was his grandmother’s house. It was the only place of familiarity, which was the reason he’d refurbished the old family home in the first place.

  So now he headed to the place he’d designed as a retreat for his family. It was a place they all could gather and call home.

  Chapter 2

  Monroe owned a house less than half a mile from Eudora’s. He’d figured someday a family member would have to move close by to look after her. With that in mind, when the lease for the colonial revival where his great grandparents had lived had come up for renewal, Monroe had bought and renovated it. Only he hadn’t figured he would be the person moving back to Summer Lake.

  Huge live oaks lining the long driveway were a picture worth taking. The massive displays of azaleas and the beautiful rose garden were giving them competition. The tall symmetrical columns welcomed him. One of the things he loved most about the house was the double-paned windows. When he looked through them, the view seemed like a framed painted landscape.

  Monroe climbed out of his car and noticed bright lights from another car coming up the drive. It stopped behind his and when the door slowly opened, Pearl Seaborn struggled to get out. He went over to assist her.

  “Glad you’re here,” she said. “I have a bag for Mrs. Eudora. I washed her clothes for her.”

  “She’ll be glad to get them.”

  “In the back seat,” Pearl said.

  Monroe opened the back door and hauled out his grandmother’s designer suitcase. Mrs. Pearl supervised the women who cleaned both his grandmother’s and his house weekly. She had a kindly face, but she also enjoyed her own delicious cooking too much. And the woman loved to talk, so Monroe always made an effort to be someplace else on cleaning day.

  “Thanks for laundering her things,” he said as another car came up the driveway. Maybe she would get the hint and leave.

  “Anytime,” she mumbled, but she followed him to the front porch and turned to look on eagerly as the driver parked in the yard.

  Melanie climbed out. Desire and need hit Monroe immediately. He drew in an angry breath. She still had power over him.

  In the evening, when the average woman looked whipped by the day’s events, Melanie looked fresh and pretty in her teal top and black slacks.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Pearl said, obviously happy to capture an unsuspecting ear. “What brings you out here?”

  “Good to see you, Mrs. Pearl.”

  Resigned to the women’s intrusion, Monroe led everyone inside to the family room.

  “You still got some of that iced tea I made for you?” Pearl asked Monroe as she made herself comfortable on the family room couch.

  “Sure.” While Monroe went to get it, the women struck up a conversation.

  “You poor child,” Pearl said to Melanie. “If you aren’t stuck right in the middle of the biggest mess.”

  “Everything’s fine, really,” Melanie assured her.

  “The feud is becoming bigger than the tornado that tore through five years ago, with no end in sight.”

  Monroe set a glass of tea in front of each of the women.

  “You know all about the feud, don’t you, Monroe?”

  “Something about a Hicks killing a Carson decades ago.” He sat in a chair across from the ladies.

  “That doesn’t even begin the tale,” she said, settling in for juicy gossip. “’Round 1951 Mark Hicks married Rebecca Carson. Now, she was dead before either of you were born. You probably saw pictures of her, Melanie.”

  “Uncle Milton has plenty of them.”

  “Well, Mark died just a few years ago. You may not remember him since you were little when you left, Melanie. But Monroe, you probably saw him when you spent summers with your grandmother when you were a little thing.”

  “I do,” Monroe said, twisting irritably in his seat, but Pearl didn’t notice.

  “I can recall it like it was yesterday. Rebecca was a sweet child, but young and flighty. Her daddy didn’t want her to marry Mark, but he loved her and gave her anything she wanted.”

  Monroe glanced at Melanie. She must have heard the story a thousand times. Pearl repeated it to anyone who’d sit still long enough to hear it.

  “Ain’t right to spoil a girl that way,” she continued. “Course Mark got himself a job, telling anybody who’d listen that he wasn’t like his folks. He was going to better himself. Yeah, he sure did that.” She took a fortifying sip of tea.

  “I don’t want to keep you, Pearl, if you…” Monroe started.

  She waved a hand. “Got plenty of time. Rebecca’s folks had money, you see. The Carsons were always a hardworking family, back then and now. Not a lazy one in the bunch. And that no account Mark knew it.” Pearl looked into the fireplace as if she were seeing it anew. “Lord they put on a grand affair. Prettiest and biggest wedding this town ever seen, to this day. You seen pictures of the wedding, Melanie.

  “I tell you, Rebecca was a pretty thing. And that sorry Mark Hicks didn’t have a pot to piss in. Quit his job soon after the ‘I do.’ But the Carsons were land rich. Rebecca’s daddy gave her two hundred acres so Mark could take care of her, for all the good it did.”

  Melanie nodded.

  “You can’t be nice to some folks. That Mark was as mean as a snake. An evil man if there ever was one. He mistreated that poor child. Before the ink dried on the wedding license, I tell you, he was jumping in the sack with that tramp, Lucinda Beavers. Your uncle tell you about that?” she asked Melanie.

  Melanie nodded, again. Knowing Milton, Monroe imagined he repeated it over and over.

  “I used to see bruises Rebecca tried to cover up when she came to church. She suffered with that man and he finally killed her two years after the wedding,” she said quietly and more than a little indignantly. “He said she fell off the roof to her death, but we know he pushed her. He wanted her out of his life. And he found a way to make it happen. Had her climbing that ladder to hand him some tools up on the roof of that shack he moved her into, he said. You should have seen those big crocodile tears pouring down his face, but everybody knew better.” She shook her finger for emphasis. “He killed her as sure as I’m sitting here today.”

  “Why wasn’t he arrested?” Monroe asked.

  “He was lazy but he wasn’t no fool. He made sure nobody was around. Couldn’t prove he killed her.”

  “So they aren’t really sure.”

  Clearly indignant she said, “Of course we’re sure. We all know he did it. Old man Carson wanted his land back, too, and rightfully so. But wasn’t a thing he could do. Rebecca’s brothers beat the stuffing out of Mark, and they been fighting ever since.” She shook her head. “The Carsons and the Hicks. Mark up and married Lucinda less than a year later. Didn’t give poor Rebecca time to turn cold in her grave, bless her soul. And he never did no better than to scratch out a living on that land. Was always poor as Joe Turkey. But let me tell you something. A no account is a no account, you hear me.” Pearl’s voice rose and she leaned forward in her chair for emphasis.

  “Mark never amounted to nothing. He
was lazy as a house cat and he died that way. And the chip don’t fall too far from the block. Them three children he and Lucinda whelped wasn’t no better, except for Elmore.”

  Ready for the story to end, Monroe cleared his throat, but it didn’t stem Pearl’s diatribe. In the city, he would have had her on her way. But things worked differently in the country; you were expected to show respect to your elders.

  “That boy worked from the time he was a little thing. He was collecting eggs from the chickens and slopping the hogs when he was no more than five or six. And he was the youngest. When he growed up and made a little money, he bought his brothers out. His parents had passed on by then. Now he owns the whole two hundred acres and more. He’s a good soul. And he’s doing well with that pig farm selling them hams. Lord those hams are something to smack your lips around. But family is family. He’s still a Hicks and nobody’s ever gonna forget it.” Her gaze swung to Monroe. “I’m just sorry you got mixed up in the mess by marrying a Hicks, Monroe. Coulda told you it wasn’t going to work. And I don’t care what they say. It’s her fault she left. There isn’t a thing wrong with you.”

  Face flushed, Monroe hopped out of the seat and grabbed Mrs. Pearl’s elbow, barely able to contain his anger. He felt Melanie staring at him, and she looked embarrassed. Which made his predicament even worse. His divorce from Dorian was none of Mrs. Pearl’s damn business. The heck with manners.

  He plucked Mrs. Pearl’s purse from the floor and thrust it at her. “Getting late,” he said, halfway lifting her from her seat. “Melanie and I have business to discuss. Let’s talk another time.”

  Mrs. Pearl was still talking.

  “All right. I’m going,” she said as he guided her toward the door. “Dorian could turn a man’s head. But she was no good just like her kin.”

  “It’s all in the past,” Monroe said.

  “I’m confident things will change one day,” Melanie responded hastily. “The feud won’t last forever.”

  “That’ll be a cold day in hell.” Pearl shook her head, her gray hair reflecting in the light as she tried to turn toward Melanie, but Monroe kept her moving. “Elmore ain’t never giving up that land. And the Carsons ain’t gonna rest till they get it back. So they’re just like them folks over in the Middle East. Now you tell me how there’s ever gonna be an end to that feud. You’re dreaming, girl. And since you’re a Carson and planning on running that store right here, you’re gonna be forever stuck right where you are. Dead center. Don’t matter that you left here when you were ten and the feud don’t mean nothing to you. You’re still a Carson.”