I long for those carefree days when life didn’t press in on you. A time when mothers were mothers and daughters were daughters, and there was no mixing of the two roles. Now, the roles are reversing. And, in some respects, I see my life blurring into a nothingness that suddenly looms before me. I feel a bit of panic at the changes being forced on me.
Does that empty spot where the high school stood bother me? Oh, yes, in more ways than I can explain. But, I guess the greatest feeling I experience when I look at that open, grassy lot with the blue-green mountains framing it, is fear of life, itself. On the outside, things look pretty much the same unless you look closely, but the changes are there on the inside. What was fresh and pink and pretty is soon charred and fragile. Everything that was understood to be a solid, unchangeable fact soon alters, shifting the foundation of my soul.
What is the most hurtful and publicly humiliating thing that ever happened to me in high school? The day my steady boyfriend, Allen Singleton, the lead guitarist of the Chinaberry Charmers, broke up with me in front of the entire student body. He actually raced onto the stage during a pep rally and proposed to Bonnie Hamilton. My heart froze in that moment. My life changed. And my soul stilled itself into a vague shadow of the lifeforce that had resided there before that moment.
That, also, would be the one thing that influenced me most and shaped me into the person I am today. A loner struggling to trust love.
* * * *
“Sex. That’s what you need, Maggie. Good ol’ lusty sex and lots of it. Which you can’t enjoy with me sleeping in the same house.”
“Mother!”
My mother, Millicent Hart, had never uttered anything like that—or even close to it—in all my fifty-one years. The closest we’d come to a mother-daughter talk about sex was, “Don’t do it.”
“You need to be able to sleep with your manfriend in this house,” my eighty-year-old mother said as calmly as discussing the weather.
“Why are you talking about this?”
“If you don’t want to have sex with Tag by now, I can’t help you. But I can move out of this house so you won’t feel shy about inviting Tag to spend the night.”
“You’re not going, and that’s final.”
“I’d like to see you stop me. I’ve got my dentures in. I’ll bite you.”
“Mother, just listen to reason. You’re not old enough for Magnolia Manor.”
She snorted.
I tossed my hands. “All right, you are old enough. But you’re too young at heart.”
“Magnolia Manor is a nice place.”
“Of course it is, but that’s no reason for a perfectly healthy woman to pack up and move there. A nursing home is for people who are sick or who don’t have anybody to take care of them. Not people like you, people who just want to be cantankerous.”
“I’m not being cantankerous. This time, I’m going.”
I watched helplessly as my mother packed the last of her pristine white underwear into the suitcase she’d used only infrequently over the past few years. She wasn’t one to travel very far from home. “Mother, you know you don’t like sleeping in strange places.”
“I’ll adjust. Maybe I should stop by Hamilton’s this afternoon and pick out some new furniture.”
I knew better than to allow her to go on her own. Her idea of shopping usually consisted of picking out a few items and leaving without remembering to pay for them. She stole things whether she needed them or not. I thought she’d reformed in the past year, but then she backslid. She swiped Bob the Chihuahua’s water dish from outside Beecham’s Bakery. Ingrid had a hissy fit when that happened. I do believe she’d rather Mother stole half the bakery’s bank account than anything to do with that dog. Especially after nearly losing Bob to a hawk.
There’s usually no rhyme or reason to what Mother takes, but occasionally I find little motifs. Like last year, before her temporary retirement as the town kleptomaniac. She was stealing gifts to go in my hope chest. Little did I know she was also plotting to throw me into Tag’s arms. I have her to thank for adding romance to my life. Tag Garner and I have been dating for almost a year. He’s an amazing man in many ways—even if he does have a funky blue streak in his hair.
Now, in her misguided effort to force Tag and me into living together, she was stealing . . . away. I blinked hard. “Please, Mother, let’s just think about this.”
“My mind is made up.” She sat on the edge of her flower-print four-poster bed and looked at me. “You and Tag need to be alone. You don’t need an old lady hanging around watching every move you make. For pity’s sake, you can’t even chase each other around in the nude if I’m still here.”
The image of that brought a smile to my face, and I choked back a laugh. “In the first place, we’re not ready to move in together. In the second—”
“Do you think I’m blind as well as old?” She rose, adjusted her blousy print t-shirt and white Bermuda shorts, and crossed her arms. “I’ve often thought that you’ve never gotten married because of some silly sense of responsibility for me. In fact, I know it. Well, that responsibility is gone. As of now. You’re on your own.”
I heard the door chimes downstairs in my shop, and I knew I’d lost the battle. In the time it would take me to wait on a customer, Mother would slip downstairs and out a back door, suitcase in hand. “Please, please, don’t do this.”
“You can’t hide behind me anymore, Maggie. It’s time you started to live your life instead of just observing from backstage. This man means too much to you. I’m not going to be the reason you chase this one away.” She hugged me and held me close for just a minute. “Go help your customer. I’ll be here when you get back.”
There was nothing I could do but obey. Without another word, I left her bedroom and headed for the curved staircase that led from our living quarters down to Moonheart’s Natural Living, my fragrant little shop of handmade soaps, teas, potpourri, and various other wonderful items.
One loud bark told me exactly who had arrived. Tag and his newly acquired dog, Giselle. The sound of claws scratching on the staircase preceded the gleeful bark when the mixed-breed Briard raced up to meet me. “Hello, pretty girl, what are you doing here so early?”
Tag’s deep voice followed. “Magster, are you up there?”
Magster. One of Tag’s many pet names for me. The little flutter in my heart urged me to hurry down the stairs. Mother was right about one thing. Tag and I were close—very close.
“Coming,” I called. We met on the landing. He took me in his arms and kissed me. “Well, well, I’ll take a greeting like that any day.”
“What’s my fragrant little vixen been up to this morning?”
“Dealing with Mother.”
He held me back at arms length and studied my face. “Doesn’t look like she gave you a black eye. Did she bite you somewhere?”
Mother was a notorious biter. She’d bitten Tag when they met.
“No such thing,” came Mother’s scolding voice with more than a bit of humor marking its tone. She leaned over the railing of the upstairs landing, watching us.
“Careful, Mother. I don’t want you to fall.”
She pointed to the suitcase beside her feet, then at Tag. “I presume you’re here to give me a ride in that fancy sports car of yours. I called you more than an hour ago.”
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“The Magnolia Manor Nursing Home.” She walked carefully down the stairs to stand beside us. “I’m checking in today, and Maggie flatly refused to take me. So, either you do it or I walk over there in the summer heat. I’d hate to have a heat stroke and die. Maggie would never forgive herself.”
Tag glanced from Mother to me. “Is this a joke?”
“Yes.”
“No, the time has come for me to get out of y’all’s way so the two of you can chase—”
“Mother!”
“Magnolia Manor has a few assisted living apartments, and I’ve rented one for mysel
f. Maggie has made excuses for me nearly all her life . . . what with my, well, with my hobby of borrowing things from people. It isn’t fair for her to spend the rest of her life looking after an old lady with itchy fingers.”
Tag looked as if he was trying to figure out what exactly was going on in the Hart household and how he should respond to it.
Tears burned again behind my tightly squinched eyelids. “Mother, you know I don’t want you to do this.”
“I know, dear, but you don’t have much choice in the matter, so get used to the idea.” She sighed. “I’m my own person. You’re not my legal guardian, so unless you’re prepared to take me to court and declare me incompetent, I’m on my way.”
“Miss Millicent,” Tag said patiently, using the title all ladies of a certain age demanded in Mossy Creek society, “Neither Maggie nor I want you to move. This is your home. You belong here.”
In that moment, I realized how wonderful he really was. He meant every word of what he said. “Mother, please, listen to Tag. If something’s wrong, we can work it out.”
“Something wrong? My dear, what could it possibly be?” She walked on down the stairs and then looked back at us. “Tag, is the top down on your convertible? I feel like having the wind whip through my perm.”
“Well, Miss Millicent, the top’s down, but Giselle pretty much takes up the whole front seat. I didn’t know that you—”
“We’ll share. It’s time Giselle and I got better acquainted, since we’ll probably be in-laws soon.”
I groaned. “You may have been thinking about this move for some time, but it’s a shock to me. Can’t you give me a little time to get used to the idea?”
“You’re still young enough to be shocked. That’s what’s important. You’ll get used to it pretty fast.” She tottered out the front door with Giselle behind her.
Tag kissed me quickly. “What do you want me to do, Mags? I can throw her over my shoulder and bring her back in.”
“You’re not seriously considering taking her over there, are you?”
“What else can I do? You heard her.”
“I cannot believe you’d actually drive my mother to the nursing home.”
“She’ll walk if I don’t.”
“You’ve got to persuade her to stay.”
Tag shook his head. “Her mind is made up. There’s not much I can do at this point.”
“There’s got to be something.”
“You just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Short of kidnapping, that is.”
He was entirely right, and I knew it. None of this was his problem. Still, he was providing the means for her to accomplish her little plot. “She’s deserting me.”
“I wondered what she wanted when she called and asked me to come over this morning.”
“She had this all planned out so I wouldn’t have any say in the matter. She’s up to something else. All this talk about the reunion year, the old school arson mystery—it’s rattled her. I know that look. She has a secret. She doesn’t want me watching her. That’s what this is about. Some kind of secret.”
“I’ll see if I can find out what’s up while I drive her over.” He kissed my forehead. “Now, I’d better get out there before she decides to drive herself. See you tonight?”
“Yes,” I said as he dashed down the steps.
I watched as he pulled out of my shady yard past blooming flower beds and butterfly bushes filled with life. Mother hugged Giselle with one arm and waved cheerfully. Then she turned to talk to Tag. She was probably telling him how to steer. Look up “back seat driver” in the dictionary, and there’s a picture of Millicent Hart. Next she would steal the change out of his ash tray.
I turned and went back in the shop. I’d planned to cut a new batch of soap and make potpourri. Instead, I changed from a sundress into shorts, Nikes, and a t-shirt, and went jogging to clear my mind. I circled the town square a couple of times and ended up near town hall. Suddenly, I couldn’t resist and bolted inside to see the old fortune-telling machine. I fished a dime out of my pocket and fed it into the slot. I was greeted by the whirring of the machine as the fortune-teller came to life. A few seconds later, a yellowed card dropped from the slot.
“Romance will come after disillusionment,” I read aloud. “Disillusionment. Like I need more of that after this morning. Brother.”
I hurried back to my shop and made a glass of iced ginger-peach tea. As I was sitting on the back porch sipping the fragrant brew, the door chimes jingled. I jumped to my feet and rushed to the front.
“Mother? I told you—Oh, I’m sorry. You see, my mother—never mind. It’s a long story.” A very handsome man stood there looking puzzled at me. He seemed so familiar, but I just couldn’t place him. “May I help you?”
“Maggie? Is that really you?” His voice would melt butter.
I gasped. “Beau? Beau Belmont . . . I mean Belmondo?”
He nodded.
Mossy Creek’s only true movie star had come home.
I sat down and spilled my tea.
* * * *
Strangely enough, Beau Belmont, whom the world knew as Beau Belmondo, and I had stayed in touch through letters and an occasional phone call. I thought of him as a kid brother, since he was thirteen years younger than me. But I’d hardly expected him to saunter into my shop one morning out of the blue. He hadn’t been back to Mossy Creek in twenty years. We read about him all the time and went to his films and watched his interviews on TV. He gave me a quick hug and then looked around. “This is still the most pleasant house in Mossy Creek.”
“I thought you were waiting until the reunion in November!”
“Couldn’t stand it. Had to come sooner.” He shrugged big, handsome shoulders that Julia Roberts had leaned on in his last film. “I could use a glass of your tea.”
“Come on.” I led him to the back porch. I sat in the swing. I blinked, telling myself this was real.
Beau started to take a seat and then hesitated. “Say, Maggie, my car’s out front, and I’d just as soon nobody see it right now. I’m sure Creekites still pay attention to unfamiliar cars parked in their neighbors’ yards. Where can I hide it?”
“Hide it? Oh, how about my garage? I don’t use that for anything except storage for the gift shop. There’s plenty of room.”
“Great.”
He hurried out to his car while I took the garage key off the rack by the door and met him in the back yard. Beau guided his sleek black Jaguar inside. “How many of these do you have?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve lost count.”
We went back to the swing and sat down. “How is she?” he said.
I put a hand to my heart. This was so romantic. Beau had come back to see Anna Rose Lavender, my best friend. And his high school sweetheart. “She’s fine, Beau, just fine. You should let me tell her—”
“No. I’ll take my chances.” He took a deep gulp of iced tea and changed the subject. “Let’s talk about you. I have the Gazette mailed to me in Los Angeles.” He smiled, showing a dimpled cheek. “The way Katie Bell writes about you and your new boyfriend, you two must be the hottest couple in Mossy Creek.”
I nearly choked. “I suppose we are. We’re pretty much the nearest thing to a wild romantic duo she can find. It’s Tag’s blue hair. Folks here just can’t get used to the idea that an ex-Falcons linebacker would dye a blue streak in his hair and take up sculpting. You really read the Gazette every week?”
“I started subscribing years ago. Just wanted to hear what folks at home were doing.”
Anna Rose, he meant.
“Now, it’s interesting that you should say that. Folks at home, I mean.” I sipped my tea and wondered how I could bring Anna Rose into the conversation again.
“It’s funny that no matter where we go we think of the place we grew up as home,” Beau said.
“So your huge estate in the Hollywood Hills isn’t as appealing as you thought it would be?”
“No. I so
ld it.”
“So where are you going to live?”
Beau put down his mug and looked at me closely. “That depends on what happens with Anna Rose. In the meantime, I need a hiding place. How about here?”
Stay here? Well, why not? “Okay. Mother just moved out, and she left her bedroom furniture.”
“Great! I’ll get my bags.”
Before he could move, I heard the front door chimes. Tag called out, “Hey, Mags, babe, I’m back. You won’t believe—”
Tag stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Beau sitting there with me on the swing.
“You have to be Maggie’s man,” Beau said as if he’d known Tag all his life.
Tag stepped forward, stuck out his hand, and looked a bit puzzled. “Hello. Have we met?”
Beau laughed and rose. He shook Tag’s hand heartily. “In a manner of speaking. I’m the customer who bought your Wilderness Battle bronze. The grizzly fighting the cougar. I did it through a broker at Maggie’s recommendation. Great work.”
“Oh? You look familiar, but I just can’t place—”
“I’m totally thoughtless this morning,” I blurted, wondering where my manners had gone. If Mother had been here, she’d have scolded me. “Tag, this is Beau Belmondo.”
“The movie star?”
“That’s me. Pleased to meet you. I used to watch you play.”
Tag had met a lot of celebrities in his football playing days, and little impressed him. He was a minor celebrity, himself. He shrugged. “Thanks. What brought you back to Mossy Creek?”
“It’s a beautiful little town, almost as quaint as when I left it. ‘Ain’t goin’ nowhere, and don’t want to.’” Beau chuckled and crossed his legs. “You know, when I left here, I thought this place would never suit me. I was a dirt poor nobody. I couldn’t get away fast enough.”
The conversation between the two men flowed over me as I toyed with the idea of calling Anna Rose. She’d kill me if I didn’t.
Reunion at Mossy Creek Page 12
