Foothills Pride Stories, Volume 2

by Pat Henshaw

  He gave a huge sigh and frowned at his dad as he plunked himself in his chair.

  “Dad, what happened? What did you say to Frank?” Then he spied our hands, Christopher’s on top of mine, and beamed. “Okay. All right. Good on you, Dad!”

  Naturally, this made me blush even more. This time I was joined by Christopher, who gave his son a scowl.

  “None of your business, Henry.”

  Henry just giggled.

  “Ah, it’s nice to see a couple of old people having a good time.” Henry was now chortling.

  I had to grin. He was right. His father and I were pathetic. Laughable. Buoyant. And feeling younger every moment.

  AFTER THEY went to bed, I ransacked Emil’s room, reclaiming everything that was mine. I put all of it in a box to take with me to the store the next morning, as far away from Emil as I could get it. He would never have another chance to steal from me.

  9

  MONDAY STARTED as usual for me, or maybe a lot better than usual if I’m honest. Christopher, Henry, and I ate a simple breakfast of cereal and milk with strawberries. Christopher had to tether Henry a few times because the teen had a couple of moments of end-of-the-school-year excitement.

  Henry wanted to come by the store in the afternoon. All three of us knew what he really wanted—to hang out and maybe put some IKEA furniture together. Christopher quashed the idea because Abe had told him his crew would be taking everything out of the second floor of the house. Christopher and Henry needed to be on hand to move their belongings to my place. What little furniture they owned would be stored in the farm’s outbuilding.

  I parked behind the store as usual and walked in through the storage area with my old life in my hands. I stored the box back in a corner.

  In my new tight jeans, my electric blue T-shirt, and my leather cross-trainers, I felt good. The new Frank McCord, dressed to take on the world. Maybe even break some hearts. Not a bow tie or pair of baggy overalls in sight.

  “What the hell happened to you this weekend?” Riley greeted me with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want the rumors from possible to improbable? Did you get mugged, shot at, or attacked like some people think? Or did someone put a spell on you, talk you over to the dark side, or take over your body?” He gave me the once-over. “Whatever happened, whoever got to you decided to change you into a normal person.”

  Riley stood there with his wizard-white hair sticking out at odd angles around his wrinkled shar-pei face, wearing his worn chinos, stained golf shirt, and scruffy Hush Puppies, and he had the audacity to criticize me. But he was chuckling, and I had to grin with him.

  “No, nothing quite so dramatic. I decided instead to break ties with the past. Not just with the clothes, but with the store too.”

  I skipped over the panic attacks and Emil spending the weekend in jail. And I hugged the time I’d had with Christopher and Henry to myself, not ready to show the world how much I wanted to have a boyfriend, especially one who came with a teenage son. I was more than ready to walk steadily into my new life and scrutinize it in order to make any other big changes.

  By lunchtime, I’d drawn a crude floor plan of the remodeled store and had called designer Fredi Zimmer. We were meeting later in the afternoon, and I was looking forward to his expertise.

  Christopher strolled in as I put down the sheet with my ideas on it, exactly as I’d hoped he would.

  “I’m starving. How about you?” He acted like we’d been boyfriends forever, like it was perfectly natural for us to get together for lunch without making prior plans.

  I was thrilled and wanted to kiss him, hug him, and wrap myself around him.

  “Sure. Perfect timing. I just finished writing down my thoughts before Fredi gets here this afternoon.” I turned to Riley. “I’m taking lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Riley waved a hand at me and kept stocking shelves. Since Mondays were usually slow, I knew I could be gone for a couple of hours and he wouldn’t miss me.

  Christopher’s van was parked in my reserved spot, and he gestured toward it.

  “You’re going to show me how to get to the cafe where we ate dinner last night. I hope they haven’t run out of carrot cake yet.” He turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “By the way, did I tell you how much I like your new pants, Frank?”

  He seemed delighted when I blushed.

  THE BOTTOM was busier than it had been the night before, and the clientele was totally different too. Today men in jeans, work shirts, and boots sat at the tables and booths, some chatting but a lot checking their phones and ignoring the others around them. Hard hats hung from chair ears, and beat-up gloves drooped from back pockets.

  The common denominator between last night and today wafted around us as we entered. As usual, the place smelled delicious.

  Lorraine, the co-owner, seated people, joking with the men, sometimes whacking them with a menu or rolling her eyes as they quipped with her. Our waitress from last night, she with the lackadaisical attitude, worked the tables outside, slouching even more in the daylight.

  “Is it always this busy?” Christopher had scooted forward and was leaning over the tabletop of the booth we had lucked into.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m counting this as our first official date,” he said softly as Lorraine walked up to us with glasses of water. “When we’re with Henry, it doesn’t count.”

  “Frank, how’ve you been?” Lorraine asked. She peered at Christopher like she needed spectacles. “Who’s your friend?”

  I introduced them and said we’d been in the night before with Christopher’s teenage son, who Larry seemed to know.

  “Ah, right. The kid who Larry’s got the crush on. You must be the game designer. Big stuff. Larry wants your autograph.” She ripped a page out of the back of her pad as a few men tried to call her over to their tables. Unflappable as always, she merely turned her head and said, “Keep your shirts on.”

  Then she looked down at Christopher.

  “I want you to make this out to Lorraine and Bud.” She spelled out her name as Christopher wrote it. “And sign it. Then I’ll take your order. Larry’s going to kill me for getting your autograph before he did. I love it!”

  She and Christopher grinned at each other. Parent humor, I guess.

  After she admired the piece of paper and scribbled down our order on a clean sheet, she scurried off in the direction of the kitchen, stopping by a few tables on her way.

  Later, as I was driving home that night after closing the store, I realized I’d had my very first date in or near Stone Acres. I hadn’t had to go far out of town for it. Now I only had a few more hurdles to soar over to become the sexy Frank of my dreams.

  I didn’t think I was in love, but I definitely had my first real crush. I felt like a sixteen-year-old in a thirty-five-year-old body. As I smiled in the dark, the night grinned with me. Christopher and I might never get together in a permanent sense, but he’d always have my heart and my gratitude for dynamiting me out of my comfort zone and making me fly. Without him, I would have died chained to my rut, wondering what all the shouting was about.

  MY DAY crashed with a resounding thud as I turned to drive up the road to the farmhouse. I could see someone sitting on the porch swing with Lloyd Campbell. Because I’d had second thoughts and hadn’t signed the papers to charge him, Emil was out of jail. Was Lloyd here because he anticipated trouble? Not from me.

  After I parked, I brushed past both of them and opened my front door. As I was putting away my keys in the kitchen, I decided enough was enough. Wasn’t this why I was determined to change? If anyone had taken advantage of me in the past year, Emil was far and away the worst culprit.

  The contemptuous anger in his eyes as he stood with his head held high knocked a little wind out of me. He was furious but holding back. He, who’d broken into my house and stolen my food, my liquor, my slippers, and my past, was mad at me?

  I took a d
eep breath and then another to ward off an attack. I refused to let him get to me. I could beat this. I knew I could.

  “Emil, I’m giving you two weeks to pay your rent for the last three months. If you don’t pay in full, you’re evicted.” I kept talking as Emil opened his mouth to speak. “I filled out the paperwork at the sheriff’s office earlier today.”

  “But… but… but…. Where am I supposed to get the money? This isn’t fair.” He turned to the sheriff, his body going from rigid and self-righteous to limp and dejected in a heartbeat. “Sheriff, he can’t do this to me, can he?”

  Lloyd nodded.

  “But where am I supposed to get the money?” He sounded pathetic.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, you work at a bank. You earn a paycheck. Besides, I’m sure they give employees loans all the time.” I wasn’t going to be suckered into taking pity on him and overlooking his nonpayment or “helping” him out anymore. I was done being a doormat. “Also just so you know, I’m giving you a ride into town tomorrow morning, but never again. You can work something out with Gus at the garage about your car.”

  Somewhere in the middle of all that, I’d crossed my arms over my chest and was standing in a superhero stance.

  Emil’s eyes glinted with malice. He’d dropped the “oh poor me” façade and settled on hate, sinking into venom.

  “You prick. You find a new dick to fuck you and you can’t wait to get rid of me. I’ve given you the best five years of my life. You owe me. You owe me big-time. I’m what’s kept you from being the biggest laughingstock of this town. You and your silly pants and clown tie. You have to go out of town to get fucked because no one here will have anything to do with you.”

  Only a gasp from Henry, who was carrying in an armload of clothes, momentarily stopped the diatribe. When Emil turned his head and spied Henry and Christopher behind him, his evil-spirited smile spread, and he was off again, castigating father and son as my new whores.

  Christopher hustled Henry off into their bedroom. He was speaking quietly in his son’s ear as they walked, and Henry was listening intently. I was humiliated to know they had heard Emil’s poisonous words. I felt diminished, and now the symptoms of a panic attack were curling around my chest.

  In the meantime, as I fought the attack, trying desperately to breathe deeply and keep my mind clear, I felt Christopher’s hand on my back.

  “Okay, Frank, let’s take a walk. One step at a time. Slowly. Deliberately. And breathe. I’ve been reading up on this. I know what to do.”

  I listened, latching on to his every word, and felt his hand rubbing circles on my back. He was throwing me a lifeline, and I grabbed on to it greedily. I wasn’t going to let Emil drag me down and drown me. I wasn’t that Frank anymore.

  This time I had a close friend who would wade into the morass and help pull me out. I wasn’t alone. Having Lloyd help me was nice, but having Christopher by my side was unbelievably better.

  Slowly, as we walked into the kitchen and Christopher got me a glass of water, I calmed down. I saw Emil’s words for what they were—bullying tactics. I finished sipping the water and clutched Christopher’s hand.

  “Thanks.” The word came out shaky, but it was audible and understandable. I was going to be okay. “Thank you.”

  I didn’t know what else to say, but Christopher put his arms around me and hugged me for all he was worth. I let his strength and resolve seep into me, calming my tremors and causing the clammy feeling of almost passing out to slip away from me.

  “I’m glad I can help, Frank. If you need someone to be your rock, I’ll be that guy. I promise.” His words brushed past my ears and settled in my heart.

  Even if our infatuation simmered and evaporated into nothing, we’d still have a deep friendship to bind us together. At the moment, knowing that was enough.

  By the time we got back into my living room, Emil was gone, his footsteps on the stairs and his voice as he ranted to the sheriff the only reminders that he’d spewed hatred here.

  Henry walked through the front door with another load of clothes, pulling a rolling suitcase behind him. He disappeared toward the guest room, but as I sat on the couch with Christopher next to me, he returned.

  “Uh, Frank, can I ask you a question?”

  I watched as he and his father had a soundless conversation. I think Christopher was warning him not to speak.

  “Sure. What’s up?” I sounded as fatigued as I felt. Simply holding my head up to look at him as he hovered over me was painful.

  He squatted and balanced himself with one hand on my knee.

  “Uh, our room’s getting pretty full of stuff, and the van’s only about half-emptied. I was wondering if maybe there’s somewhere else we can put our, uh, things.” He looked apologetic, like he was breaking into an important conversation.

  In fact I could have hugged him for the interruption. Logistics I could do. I could feel my mind focusing on something other than my own problems. The relief nearly made me giggle.

  “Let’s see.” I stood, dislodging his hand, and he stood with me. “There’s a small room that I use as an office sometimes.”

  I started to walk to the back of the house, to the tiny space past their bedroom. It occurred to me that the new Frank wouldn’t be taking store business home anymore, because at five o’clock he’d be done for the day and ready to embrace personal time. I’d made the home office obsolete when I’d vowed to change.

  Like the rest of my life, the neat and tidy area screamed for personality. Filling it with the Darlings’ possessions would mark the transition from workaholic Frank to the more laid-back model perfectly. I’d have to move the business files back to the store tomorrow so they didn’t get lost.

  I pointed out where Henry could start unloading their things, then turned and went back to the front room, where Lloyd was waiting for me.

  “Frank, I don’t think it’s a good idea for Emil to stay here tonight. So I’m taking him to the motel. The other one. The one where no kids are allowed. He’s upstairs getting clothes for work in the morning and his personal stuff.”

  Lloyd looked worried, but I wasn’t sure why. Did he think I’d protest? Not a chance. It never occurred to me that Emil might be dangerous.

  “I’ll drive him into town tomorrow and make sure Gus gets in touch with him about his car. I’m also going to make sure his boss at the bank knows he needs some help. Somebody around here must like the guy. He’s lived in Stone Acres long enough.”

  He was right. Emil had been here for five years now. I knew he had a handful of Stone Acres friends he went clubbing with in the city. Anyone closer? I had no idea.

  Lloyd laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t worry about Emil. Okay, Frank? You just get yourself back together.” With a reassuring pat, he let me go and walked out onto the porch, where Emil waited for him.

  I could hear Emil’s staccato voice complaining, probably about me, as they walked to the sheriff’s van. Idly, I wondered how long it would take Emil to wish he was back in jail after he got to his room at the motel. From what I’d heard about the place, it was little better than a pigsty and about as loud as a hen house when a wolf attacked. My guess was that Emil would blame me for his having to stay there overnight, just as he blamed me for everything else that seemed to have gone wrong in his life.

  10

  THE NEXT day at work started like a whirlwind and didn’t seem to want to back off until noon.

  First, self-appointed town mayor Bernie Phillips turned up in the store, huffing and puffing with regal importance and purpose.

  He eyed my outfit of black jeans, peacock-blue T-shirt, and sneakers. He grimaced and looked around the store as if sniffing out other anomalies.

  “Frank, what’s going on here?” He barked the question. His belligerence slapped me in the face.

  Riley walked out from the back room.

  “Is there something we can help you with, Bernie?”

  I smiled at him, suddenly
realizing how petty and small he was for someone no one voted into office. What power did he really have? None.

  The mayor glared at the two pots of pansies in Riley’s hands. Riley was carrying them to the old-fashioned flower cart I’d set up near the front door.

  “What is all of this?” Bernie gestured at my clothes and the flowers. “You can’t go changing things.”

  “I can’t?” I snorted, which made him frown and bluster even more.

  “No!” He puffed himself up with a huge breath. “The hardware store is one of the keystones of Old Town. You can’t change it without the council’s approval. And you can’t be out of your overalls and your bow tie. There’s a certain ambiance we have to preserve here.”

  Riley and I exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. We didn’t say anything, however, just kept whooping and staring at him in between bursts.

  When a customer walked in, one of the newcomers who needed brackets to hang a shelf, Riley ambled over to help him.

  “Well, thank you for coming in and sharing with me, Bernie. I’ll keep your opinions in mind as I remodel the store.”

  He started blustering again as I herded him toward the door and all but pushed him onto the sidewalk. As a parting shot, I looked down at the worn boards and muttered, “Maybe a concrete walkway would be better. I’ve had a few women wearing heels trip out here. We wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?”

  By this point Bernie had turned red and, with my help, was moving away from the store’s main doorway.

  After the customer had left, Riley reminded me of all I had to do. He’d signed up another candidate for a summer job, so I was going to be quizzing and testing two kids this afternoon. When I asked who the new kid was, he shook his head and said the boy had checked out, so I didn’t need to worry about it.

  Then we went over the preliminary floor plan Fredi had dropped off late Monday afternoon. As we discussed and argued over what would be best for the store, a few more newcomers dropped by and bought odds and ends. The summer crowd had definitely started to arrive, and we’d have our work cut out for us.