by Becki Willis
“Pfft.” Genny made light of all her hard work. “It’s a few hay bales and a few strings of light. How hard is it to throw together a bonfire and weenie roast for a bunch of kids? With Carson loaning us his portable dance floor, all we have to do is add music and kids. Voila. A starlight ballroom.”
Maddy laughed at her friend’s downplay of the upcoming event. “You make it sound like nothing, but I know you, my friend. You will transform it into magic, just like you do with everything you touch. To be honest, I am still in shock that my daughter has agreed to this. I knew Blake would love it, but last year, we had their party at the country club. This year, we’re just having it at the country.” She shook her head in amazement. Their lives had changed drastically in the past twelve months.
Genesis gave her a sassy smile. “I may have pointed out how her new crush, Drew Baines, is into this sort of thing. How all her friends will be jealous that Cutter Montgomery is coming to her birthday party out at the ranch. And how she’ll be known as a trend setter, having a pasture party with a twist.”
“All I know is, Brash loved the idea of having it at the ranch and being a part of the celebration.”
“Now let’s cross our fingers and pray it doesn’t rain.”
“It’s wouldn’t dare,” she said with a confidence she did not feel. “Not and ruin all our plans.”
Another sip of coffee and she glanced at the watch on her slender wrist. “I wish my client would hurry and get here. I need to run by the store and pick up something to serve tonight. With Granny Bert just getting in from Colorado, we haven’t had time to prepare anything.”
“Why go shopping for food, when I have an entire restaurant at my disposal? What shall I bring?”
“I can’t keep taking advantage of you like this, Gen. You always bring refreshments.”
Her shrug was worry-free. “It’s what I do. Oh, and I think that’s your new client about to come through the door.”
They watched as a neatly dressed older woman made her way up the sidewalk and pushed open the door. Fifty years ago, she would have been dressed at the height of fashion. Her pink double-knit suit was neat but simple, the boxy jacket fastened with twin rows of stylish fabric-covered buttons. She even wore a smart pillbox hat atop her coiffed gray curls. Her purse and shoes were shiny black patent and an intricate brooch adorned her chest.
Maddy glanced down at her own khaki pants and fitted shirt, and felt woefully under-dressed. Swallowing down her insecurities, she caught the elderly woman’s eye and waved.
A silver cane with pink tips clicked along the wooden floor. The newcomer offered a beaming smile as she teetered to the back of the restaurant. “Well, well, well. Two of my all-time favorite students, Maddy Cessna and Genesis Baker. My, what lovely young women you have become!”
Genny giggled and hugged their former English teacher. “Miz McSwain, you haven’t aged a bit! You still look the same as you did when we were in high school.” She was polite enough not to mention the fact that she still wore the same clothes as back then. Even twenty years ago, the outfit was woefully out of date.
Janet McSwain pinched the apple of Genny’s full cheek. “And you’ve grown even more lovely, my dear. Still the same blue-eyed beauty who stole my great nephew’s heart with those charming dimples of yours.” Her eyes clouded just a bit. “I can’t seem to remember. How many children do you two have now?”
Genny stifled a gasp. She looked frantically at her best friend, her eyes slightly panicked. “I—uh—I don’t have any children, Miz McSwain,” she managed to gulp.
“Well, now, you’re still young.” The older woman gave her arm a consoling pat. “There’s still plenty of time for babies.” The retired teacher slid into the booth seat and gave Genny a reproachful look. “I was sorely disappointed when you two didn’t have a proper church wedding. My niece said it was just a small gathering, no guests to speak of. Still, an invitation would have been nice.” Her frown lifted into an abrupt smile. “At least you thought of me for the wedding shower. Are you enjoying that toaster I gave you, dear?”
Genny’s mouth worked open and shut like a dying fish. She finally managed a weak, “It—It was a nice toaster.”
Another round of panic set in. The unexpected mention of Tommy — and the very wrong assumption that it had been her wedding shower, not Kayla’s— caused the oddest ache in the cavity of her chest. Air was difficult to gather into her lungs. It leaked out, as surely as it would from a punctured balloon.
Knowing she had to escape, Genny mumbled a hasty, “If—If you’ll excuse me, I—I have something I must do.”
She did not wait for a reply. She whirled and practically ran from the dining room. Anything to put space between her and the sweet but forgetful Mrs. McSwain. She had heard the former teacher had dementia; she had not realized, until now, how far the disease had progressed.
Amazingly enough, there had been few reminders of her high school sweetheart since she came back to town. Twenty years was a long time, even for the memory banks of a community that thrived on gossip. Most had moved on to bigger and more recent fodder, all but forgetting the teenage romance that had ended in tragedy.
Barry Redmond was the exception. He still thought of Tommy Evans as his best friend, even though Genny knew for a fact that the sentiment had not been reciprocated. Tommy had tolerated Barry. Barry had money, which meant he could afford fast cars and an unlimited supply of beer. Tommy had a fondness for both, so he tolerated the spoiled rich kid that came with the coveted fake ID and the souped up Dodge Charger.
Since her return to Naomi last summer, Barry often made little digs about Tommy, most of them subtle. So subtle, in fact, that people around them did not understand their hidden meanings. He rarely even said Tommy’s name, but he would make some snide remark, meant to put Genny in her place. The insults stung, as did the rude reminders that Tommy had ultimately chosen Kayla Sorenson over her.
Now here was poor Mrs. McSwain, trapped in the tangle of her own mind. She remembered that her great nephew was in love with Genny. She remembered there had been a rushed, hushed wedding. She remembered buying the toaster as a gift for the newlyweds. However, she had forgotten the most crucial elements of the past. She forgot that the wedding shower had honored another bride. She forgot there had not been a happily-ever-after for any of them.
Genny took a few minutes to pull herself together. She could do this. She could forget the past and focus on the future. She still had the afternoon that yawned before her, and they were booked for a group of ten at one o-’clock.
This was another of the part curse/ part blessing that came with the reality television show. People flocked into the sistering towns of Naomi and Juliet, Texas, eager to see the old mansion and the real-life people that dominated the television every Tuesday night. Like Maddy said, it made privacy an issue, and even Genny was not immune to the fall-out. Not only was she best friends with the star of the show, but most of the off-sight filming was done here at New Beginnings. Genny knew she should be thankful for the extra business the fans generated, but it had been a long and stressful six months.
“You can do this,” she repeated aloud.
She pushed herself back out to the dining room, glancing to the corner booth. Poor Mrs. McSwain had no idea of the blunder she had made.
And poor Maddy. Genny belatedly realized she had run out on her friend, leaving her to deal with the forgetful old teacher.
Madison’s forehead furrowed into a groove of worry. The poor dear was delusional.
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. McSwain,” she said, trying to sound positive. She offered her hand to her former teacher, hoping the personal contact would ground her in the present.
“And it’s so wonderful to see you again, Maddy dear. Bertha talks about you all the time.”
Maddy’s frown deepened. “You know you can’t believe half of what my grandmother might say.”
The other woman chuckled. “I’ve known Bertha Cessna
for over seventy years. I know to temper what she says with a grain of salt.”
She had the timeline right, so Maddy took it as a positive sign. “What can I do for you, Mrs. McSwain? You mentioned over the phone that you wanted to hire me?”
It was not unusual for In a Pinch Professional Services to take on odd jobs that were, in fact, less than professional. She made weekly runs to the pharmacy for her grandmother’s best friend Sybille. When needed, she drove Leroy Huddleston to doctor appointments and therapy sessions in Bryan/College Station. She walked dogs, watered plants while homeowners were away, bought and wrapped birthday presents, organized medicine cabinets and underwear drawers, sorted old coins and old photographs, even presided over the birth of Glitter Thompson’s newest litter of puppies. For the past ten months, no job had been too small or too quirky for her to tackle.
Still, some requests still left her speechless. This was one of them.
“I want you to find my missing recliner,” Janet McSwain announced.
“Excuse me, but did you say recliner? As in a chair?”
“Yes, yes, you know the kind. Has the handle that makes the feet pop up. Good for circulation, so my doctor says. Mine is missing.”
Madison vaguely recalled Granny Bert mentioning the subject once before. Even then, Maddy had marveled at the sheer improbability of misplacing an object the size of a reclining easy chair.
She scrambled now to collect her thoughts. “Uhm, how long has your chair been missing?”
Her specific time frame came as a surprise. “Since the weekend of July Fourth. I went to Round Rock to stay with my daughter, so that we could go to the firework display at the Capitol. Have you ever spent the Fourth in Austin, dear? Don’t. The fireworks are spectacular, but the crowds are awful. Makes you appreciate our quiet little town and how few traffic lights we have. You should see how many they have in the city! They have an entire bar of lights at every intersection. They have arrows that flash this way and that, and little blinking lights that mean now you can go, now you can’t. And lands sake, you’ve never heard so many horns in all your life! Horns blared from every direction, every single time I drove through a traffic light. Yes, ma’am, it made me appreciate our quiet streets and how polite our drivers are here. People in the city can be very rude, you know.”
“You drove in Austin?” Maddy asked, her voice hitched with something akin to horror.
“The freeways make Lindy nervous,” she said as way of explanation.
Realizing they had been dreadfully sidetracked, Madison ignored the potential traffic nightmare and started over. “So while you were gone for the weekend, your chair came up missing,” she surmised.
“Yes. I came home and my entire living room was rearranged. It looked so lovely, I didn’t notice the chair was gone for at least a week.”
Madison held back a sigh. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. “How did your living room get rearranged, Mrs. McSwain?”
“Ellen and her girls did it.”
“Ellen...?”
“Ellen McDaniel. She has that new cleaning service in town. She calls it ReFresh. I think it’s a rather catchy name, don’t you? They not only clean, but they offer a bit of interior decorating, too. They specialize in taking things you already own and moving them around, giving your rooms a fresh look. ReFresh, get it?”
“Hmm, I see,” Maddy murmured, even though she did not. She was not keen on the idea of someone coming into her home and rearranging things. She already had little enough say about decorating the Big House. The show brought in Kiki Paretta, a famous interior decorator who had her own television show with the network. If anyone were going to do some rearranging at the old mansion, it would be Maddy, just as soon as she had the place to herself.
“It’s amazing what they can do with a can of furniture polish and a mover’s dolly,” the older woman gushed. “I thought I was in someone else’s home. They had the whole place looking so fresh and new. That’s why I didn’t notice the recliner was missing, until I went to sit in it. They were starting up the new season of Dallas, and I just had to find out who shot J.R. So you can imagine my surprise when I went to set down, and my chair wasn’t there!”
She was doing it again, confusing the past with the present. Madison was familiar with the infamous television show, set here in the Lone Star State during the late seventies and early eighties. Maddy was a toddler during the Who Shot J.R.? frenzy, but Mrs. McSwain was still caught up in the television sensation, over thirty-five years later.
“Did you ask Mrs. McDaniel about it?” Madison asked gently.
“No, but lucky for me, I record all the shows, so I just watched it later that night. I thought for certain Sue Ellen had finally gotten up the nerve to shoot her no-good husband, but—”
Madison gently interrupted before her mind drifted further away. “I meant did you ask her about the chair?”
When the older woman nodded her head emphatically, not a single gray curl slipped out of place. The pink hat stayed neatly in place, no doubt glued down by the heavy coat of Aqua Net hair spray plastering her head. “She explained that the chair did not fit the feminine feel of the room. From a purely decorating standpoint, the recliner was an eyesore.”
“If she admitted to moving the chair, why do you think it is missing? Where did she put the chair?”
“She says she put it in the attic, right next to the cannon. But it’s not there.”
Madison did not dare ask why there was a cannon in the schoolteacher’s attic, afraid of what the answer might be. Something along the lines of preparing for enemy Yankees. Or Indians, perhaps. Either way, she was not eager to go down that path. Best to keep to the subject at hand.
“You’re sure?”
“It’s rather hard to overlook a burnt orange and white recliner, you know.”
“Orange and white?” The visual left her nauseas.
The old school teacher nodded again. “Buttery soft leather, with a big longhorn emblem stitched into the back cushion. Hand-signed by Darrel Royal himself. My Roy had it custom made. Our son played for the team, you remember, when they won back-to-back National Championships in ‘69 and ‘70. It was my husband’s prize possession, God bless his soul. Hardly something I could overlook.”
Except that you didn’t notice it missing from your living room for a week, Madison mused.
She realized the other woman was watching her expectantly, so she quickly came up with another question. “Uhm, so what did Ellen McDaniel have to say about that?”
“She insists that’s where she left it, back in July. My kids won’t let me go up to the attic anymore. Say I’m unsteady on my feet. So I had to wait until last week, when my grandsons came over and took down Christmas decorations. Sure enough, the recliner is missing.”
“Christmas? It’s not even Halloween yet,” Madison murmured.
“I don’t go in for all that Halloween nonsense. Sure, I hand out candy for the kids, and ooh and ahh over their New Kids on the Block costumes — that band is all the rage these days, you know — but I much prefer the birth of Jesus over the ghosts and goblins. You should come over and see my tree, dear. It’s particularly lovely this year.”
“Mrs. McSwain, from what you’ve told me, I’m really not sure there’s much I can do for you. I can talk to Mrs. McDaniel, of course, and come look for the chair myself, but... it’s been three months. If you haven’t found your chair by now, I’m not sure you’re going to.”
“But that chair was so special to my Roy!”
“Yes, I’m sure it was,” she commiserated.
The retired schoolteacher rummaged around in her purse and came up with an envelope. She withdrew two Polaroid Instamatic photographs and pushed them toward Madison.
“Here’s a picture of the chair. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
Madison gazed down at the monstrosity. Overstuffed and oversized, the burnt orange leather was accented with white insets and white stitching. A la
rge white longhorn logo stretched across the back of the chair and echoed on the footrest.
Ellen McDaniel was right on two accounts. The chair did not give off a feminine vibe. And it was definitely an eyesore, in any room other than a man cave.
A Texas Longhorn man cave, at that.
“That’s definitely orange and white,” Madison agreed.
“So you’ll take my case?” Mrs. McSwain asked.
“Well, I—”
She pushed the envelope across the table. “There’s one hundred dollars in there. Is that enough to retain your services?” She peered at Madison with bright, eager eyes.
Madison did not have the heart to turn the woman away. The money was far from her normal retainer, but this was not about money. Mrs. McSwain had always been one of her favorite teachers. It broke Maddy’s heart to know that the once-sharp mind had fallen victim to dementia.
“That’s more than enough money, Mrs. McSwain,” she said softly. It was doubtful she could help, but she had to try. “And yes, I’ll take your case. I will do my best to find your missing chair.”
Chapter Three
The group arrived just as Madison left the café. The women whipped out their digital cameras — no Instamatic film in sight — and talked the homeowner into taking a few photos with them. When Maddy finally disentangled herself and escaped, the enthusiastic group of women turned their lens toward Genesis.
Genny went with the flow, flashing the women her trademark dimpled smile. None of them guessed that her back ached and her new shoes rubbed a blister on her heel. Even though the show often brought people in for the initial visit, it was Genny’s personal attention and fine cooking that brought them back as repeat customers.
After making recommendations to the ladies and taking their complex order, Genny had dreams of a five-minute break. Surely she could squeeze one in, now that the noon crowd had thinned.
Her feet screamed in protest when she noticed a newly occupied booth, but she plastered on a smile and went to greet the solo guest.
