The Red Hat Society's Acting Their Age

by Regina Hale Sutherland

  “Same as yesterday.” Roy tasted the chili, licked his lips, frowned. “You go a little crazy with the cayenne pepper, Aggie girl?”

  “I made it same as always.”

  In answer, Roy grunted and took another bite. “You know I don’t like eatin’ this late. It gives me indigestion.”

  Aggie lifted her spoon. “Sorry. The girls and I got to talking and the time slipped away from us.”

  He eyed her purple blouse. “You wear that to the shop this morning?”

  “No, I came home to change for the meeting after I ran my errands.”

  “Must’ve just missed you.” He lifted his left hand and showed her his bandaged index finger. “Cut it on some barbed wire and ran home to fix it up; you weren’t here then.”

  She looked at him sympathetically.

  Swallowing, he rolled his shoulders then tilted his head side-to-side. “Dad-gum crick,” he muttered.

  “I’ll give you a back rub later.” Aggie smiled at him.

  Roy looked up briefly from his bowl and smiled back.

  “It’s nice havin’ you home earlier these days,” she said.

  “Nothing too pressing in the winter. You know that.”

  “Seems to me, hiring J.P. took some of the load off, too.” Their nephew had moved back to Muddy Creek a year ago, and Roy had hired the young man to help out with the last harvest. Afterward, he kept J.P. on. “I guess he’s working out?”

  “You kidding? J.P. could run the place single-handed.”

  “Good. You don’t need to be putting in the long hours you used to, winter or not.” Aggie knew better than to remind him that the doctor had ordered as much. Last year’s “little flare-up,” as Roy called it, was a touchy subject for him. He liked to pretend the chest pains he’d had, not to mention the test results showing off-the-charts cholesterol, didn’t mean anything. She also never mentioned that they now ate ground turkey instead of ground beef, that the milk he drank these days was skim rather than whole, and a hundred other little healthy adjustments she’d made to her cooking.

  “I heard you had to swing by Mia’s today and lay down.”

  Aggie lowered her spoon. “I swear, a person can’t burp in this town without everyone knowing ten minutes later what it smelled like. Who told you that?”

  “Buck Miller. He called while you were at your meeting to see how you were feelin’.”

  “Well, that makes sense.” Mia’s widowed seventy-something next-door neighbor had been shoveling snow off his front walk when the Sheriff showed up unannounced. The man might be half-blind, but his hearing obviously wasn’t suffering. “Poor old man needs something to occupy his time now that Martha’s gone. To keep him from eavesdropping.”

  Roy huffed. “Snoopy s.o.b. couldn’t mind his own business when the wife was alive, either. He said Cade Sloan stopped by Mia’s twice today. What’s up with that?”

  Aggie buttered her cornbread. “I didn’t ask. It’s none of my business.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.” Roy crumbled cornbread into the big glass of milk Aggie had poured for him. “Since when do you get migraines?”

  “Since about eleven-thirty this morning. You mean Buck didn’t tell you the time?”

  With half the cornbread broken up, Roy used his spoon to dunk the crumbs into the milk. He nodded at his glass. “You were a little stingy with the milk, hon. How ’bout a top off?”

  Aggie pushed away from the table and headed for the refrigerator, wondering if the time was right to tell Roy her idea. He didn’t know it, but she’d recently opened her own savings account at the bank and, for the past month and a half, she’d been depositing her coffee shop earnings. She had planned to use the money to buy two tickets to Boston for their granddaughters’ graduation in May. But now, after spending time with Rachel this afternoon and realizing all she’d missed out on with the girls living so far away, she didn’t want to wait another four months to see them. She might not have enough money yet, but they could use what she had to pay for some of the trip, and Roy could spring for the rest.

  And after they went and Roy realized how much he, too, had missed seeing Jimmy and the girls all these years, she’d insist they go back in May.

  Aggie returned to the table with the milk carton, considering how to broach the subject. “What do you want to do tonight?” she asked while pouring a stream of white over the cornbread in Roy’s glass.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Watch TV, I guess.”

  She emptied the carton and sat. “You said nothing was on.”

  Roy spooned a bite of soggy cornbread into his mouth. “We still got time to go into town and rent a movie.”

  “You’ll only fall asleep watching it.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Roy settled his hands atop his round belly, right above his belt buckle. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’ve got planned for me, Aggie girl?” His dark eyes held a twinge of amusement, and a whole lot of wariness.

  “Well . . .” Aggie leaned over and pinched a crumb from the corner of her husband’s mouth. “Since winter’s slow for you around the farm, and you said J.P. can run the place single-handed anyway, I was thinking we might get on the Internet and check out flights to Boston.”

  Beneath the sparse strands of hair atop Roy’s head, his scalp turned fire-engine red. “Are you crazy, woman? Do you know what they’re charging for plane tickets these days?”

  “Not all that much.” Unsurprised and undeterred by his outburst, Aggie scowled at him. “To hear you talk, you’d think we’re on our last dime. We’ve got plenty of money in the bank, Roy.”

  “I don’t care how much money we’ve got, I’m not paying some airline hundreds of dollars for a five-hour ride and a package of stale peanuts.”

  “What if the tickets don’t cost you anything?”

  He gave her a look of disbelief. “Where do you think you’re gonna get free tickets to Massachusetts?”

  “Just what if?”

  “That’s the dangedest thing I ever heard, Aggie. Why would anyone want to go to the Northeast in January?” He crushed his paper napkin and tossed it into his bowl. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit up there this time of year.”

  Aggie shoved her chili to the center of the table and crossed her arms. “It’s cold here, too, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “There’s a difference between Yankee cold and Texas cold.”

  She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let his stubbornness reduce her to tears. But, like always, when Aggie’s frustration with her husband reached its limit the waterworks started. “Why would anyone want to go up there?” Pushing her chair back, she stood and glared down at him. “To see granddaughters, that’s why. To see a son and daughter-in-law. What’s wrong with you, Roy Cobb? Don’t you have a heart? Have you forgotten the meaning of family?” She stormed from the kitchen.

  Behind her, chair legs scraped the linoleum, and she heard the thump of boots against the floor. “Aggie, come back here. What’s got into you?”

  As she entered their bedroom, Aggie turned and slammed the door in Roy’s startled, red-splotched face. Then she locked it.

  He rattled the knob. Pounded on the door. Waited several seconds. Knocked more softly. “Aggie, honey,” he said with what she knew was forced calm. “Open up.”

  “Don’t you ‘Aggie, honey’ me.” She threw a pillow at the door. “Is this how it’s going to be, Roy?”

  “How what’s gonna be?” His voice became louder and more exasperated with each word.

  How could the man have lived with her forty-seven years and be so out of touch with her heart? “The rest of our lives. The two of us alone in this house, me waiting on you hand and foot while you gripe about everything from what’s on TV to the way I cook.”

  “I love your cooking, hon. You know that.”

  “This isn’t about my cooking,” Aggie said between gritted teeth, trying not to scream.

  “Damn it, woman.” Roy sounded baffled. “
What’s it about then?”

  “I want more, Roy.”

  “More what?”

  “More in our old age than staring at each other from a set of matching recliners every night.”

  A long silence, then, “Like what?”

  Aggie closed her eyes, puffed out her cheeks, let the air seep slowly from between her lips. “Like a simple night out every now and then. Like an occasional trip. Maybe even across the blessed state line. Like visits with our family. I want—”

  “What you’re really saying is you want more than me,” Roy exploded. “That you’re not happy with me anymore.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to go alone.” When she heard him stomp off, Aggie unlocked and opened the bedroom door. He stood across the den in the front entry hall, snatching his coat and hat from the rack. “Where are you going?”

  “To Joe Pat’s,” Roy answered, his back to her.

  Aggie’s irritation shifted, making space for a slice of concern. Roy hadn’t played pool in years. And he didn’t drink. “You never go to Joe Pat’s.”

  He opened the front door, glanced over his shoulder at her. “Maybe it’s time I started.”

  Chapter 6

  Cade stood on Mia’s dark front porch, holding a small gift bag. He still believed she knew something about Rachel Nye’s whereabouts. Was certain of it. But after coming up empty-handed this afternoon, he’d called Judge Brennan. The old man was bullheaded. He refused to grant any more search warrants unless Cade presented hard evidence instead of mere suspicion.

  So Cade decided he’d be smart to do a little damage control. He had two reasons for wanting to soften Mia up; one personal, the other professional. Both involving trust.

  He had set out to buy flowers, then came up with a better idea. At least he hoped this gift was better than a bouquet of tulips. Cade rang the doorbell and stared down at the small, glossy red bag he held, left over from the store’s Christmas stock, most likely. He’d find out soon enough if he’d chosen well, he thought, when the porch light came on.

  The door opened and Mia peeked out. Her brown hair was loose; it brushed the tops of her shoulders. “Cade.” She shook her head at him. “You never give up, do you?” When the door opened wider, he saw that she held a staple gun.

  “Don’t shoot.” He lifted the sack with one hand while removing his hat with the other. “I brought a peace offering.”

  She looked from him to the gift and back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, yes I did. Open it. You’ll see.”

  They traded items; he took the staple gun, she took the sack. Mia reached inside and pulled out the CD. “Oh my gosh!” A laugh bubbled out of her. “Carole King’s Tapestry.”

  “It may take three decades or more, but I always return what I borrow.”

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “After I left the coffee shop this afternoon, I had to run into Amarillo to tend to some business. I stopped by a music store before I came back. I must’ve tossed out your old eight-track tape some time or another and they don’t carry them anymore. Sorry. Hope the CD will do as a replacement.”

  “Of course it will. I don’t even have an eight-track player now. Does anyone?” Clutching the CD to her chest, Mia laughed. “You can’t fool me, though. You didn’t toss the tape, you wore it out on all your parking excursions. I remember your smooth high school reputation with the girls.”

  “Yeah, well . . . I always thought I retained a little of that old magic, but you’re starting to make me wonder.”

  Her laughter drifted away on the chilled night air. The only warmth he felt came from the light in her eyes as she leaned against the doorframe and watched him.

  A radio or stereo played inside. The music thumped with bass. “Can I come in, Mia?”

  “It’s late.” Tensing, she took the staple gun from him. “I’m in the middle of a project. Reupholstering an old dining room chair.”

  “I’ve reupholstered a chair or two in my day. I could help.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need any more—” She cut the sentence short. “I don’t need any help, Cade. I’m about to call it a night.”

  Any more help. That’s what she’d started to say. Meaning someone was already in there helping her. He knew it. “I realize you’ve turned me down the last couple of times I’ve asked. I should take the hint, but I guess I’m either determined or a sucker for punishment.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t we go out for some supper tomorrow night?”

  “Cade . . .” She averted her gaze. “I’m sorry. I’d better not.”

  “So much for my smooth reputation with the ladies.” He smiled and rubbed his chin between his fingers. “Guess I can’t complain. It served me well until I got out of college and married Jill. Then, poof, it disappeared. Just like that.”

  “It’s not you. I’m just not ready to date. Not anybody. I’ve told you that.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You mean to say if Brad Pitt or that Clooney character asked, you wouldn’t jump at the chance?”

  “Well . . .” She pursed her lips, as if pondering the question. “That would be a tempting offer, but I’m sure those two wouldn’t give me a second look.”

  “Then they’d be fools.”

  She watched him a minute then said, “You know what I think?”

  “I wish I did.”

  “I think this sudden impulse of yours to date me might have something to do with the fact that I’m the only unattached woman in town over the age of nineteen and under seventy.”

  “That’s not true. What about Janice Dubinsky?” he asked, referring to the middle school girls’ P.E. teacher.

  Mia smirked. “Janice isn’t interested in men.”

  Cade feigned surprise. “Nobody ever told me that.”

  “They won’t, either. But everyone knows it’s true. Even you.”

  When a crash sounded somewhere in the house, he peeked around her shoulder, trying to see in. “You got a packrat here, too?”

  She jerked, leaning to block his view. “My cat. She’s always jumping up on the furniture and knocking stuff off. Picture frames, vases, you name it.”

  “I didn’t know you had a cat.”

  Mia looked flustered. “Got it for Christmas. It’s a kitten, really. From Aggie. Her cat had a litter.” She blurted a short laugh. “Not something I’d planned on, but what could I say? Aggie’s always afraid I get lonely.”

  “Do you?” When her eyes flicked away from his, he wished he hadn’t asked such a personal question.

  “Sometimes.” She shivered. “I’m still not used to living alone.”

  “It gets easier with time. Did for me, anyway.” When another rattle sounded behind her, he said, “You sure I can’t come in? Maybe put that CD on and see if it has the same effect on women it had on sixteen-year-old girls back in the day?”

  “Nice try, Cade.” She smiled. “Maybe another time.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He put on his hat, shrugged. “Another time is better than never.” Turning, he started down the walkway. “Goodnight, Mia.”

  “Cade?”

  Pausing, he looked back at her.

  She held up the CD. “Thanks.”

  Cade grinned. “I should be the one thanking you.”

  “Oh, really.” She propped a fist on one hip. “I suppose a lot of women from Muddy Creek High’s class of ’72 would be thanking me, too, if they knew I was the one who loaned it to you.”

  “Not so many.” His gaze lingered on her silhouette in the doorway and, for the first time in a long while, Cade felt lonely, too. And more determined than ever. “Besides, I want to listen to the music with you now, not them.”

  Mia’s hand slowly lowered from her hip.

  “And Mia?”

  “Yes?” Her voice was quiet.

  “Back in school? Your hair always smelled like strawberries. I never forgot that.”

  Leanne removed her eye makeup then washed her face and applied mois
turizer. She was slipping into her nightgown when the bathroom door opened and Eddie walked in, carrying his shoes.

  “Hey.” He glanced at her as he walked past, headed to the closet, pulling his shirttail from the waistband of his pants.

  “Hi. Where’ve you been?”

  He opened the closet door, put his shoes inside, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “Shooting pool at Joe Pat’s.”

  “All night?” Leanne crossed her arms.

  Eddie shrugged. “You were at your meeting.” He took off his shirt, tossed it toward the dirty clothes basket then unbuckled his belt, avoiding her eyes.

  His dismissive attitude stung. “I cooked.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be here for dinner.”

  “I told you I would.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “I was here.”

  “Were you?” He looked up at her as he bent to step out of his pants. “Physically, maybe. I doubt if you would’ve noticed me sitting across the table.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Without answering, Eddie walked past her wearing only his boxers.

  She followed him into the bedroom, watched him pull back the comforter on the bed then climb beneath the covers. He plumped the pillows, leaned back against them and reached to the nightstand for the novel he’d been reading the past few nights.

  For a moment, Leanne just stared at him. Time had been easy on her husband. The silver threaded through his dark, wavy hair and the faint lines fanning the bronzed skin at the sides of his eyes only made him more handsome. Eddie wasn’t tall—only five-ten—but he was broad shouldered and as fit as he’d ever been, thanks to all the sports he continued to play, week in, week out, all through the year. An adult basketball league in the winter. Baseball in the summer. And in the spring he volunteered as coach for an elementary school boy’s soccer team, where he ran up and down the sidelines, cheering the little guys on.

  Leanne climbed into bed beside him. Eddie was right; she hadn’t been here in a long time, not really. Not since Christmas. Along with the shopping and carols and twinkling lights, the holidays had brought the reality of her future into focus. She and Eddie were both only children. Her parents were gone, and so were his; his father had died over the summer. They had no other family left besides Aggie, and Aggie was fast approaching seventy. Someday soon, their lives would truly be empty.