“Somehow I have the distinct feeling you’ll be able to manage just fine, especially with the Shelby part,” Jacob said, giving Josh a playful elbow.
“I ditto that. When a man has it as bad for a woman as you do for Shelby, we find time, believe you me. I haven’t been married so long I’ve forgotten that!” Delbert laughed, recalling his own sleepless nights, single longings, the sudden thought of his wife in a new black nightgown popping into his head which he fought hard to dismiss.
“And even though I’ve never been married,” Jacob said, leaning forward in the middle-seat position to rest his forearms on his knees and lace his fingers together, his long legs starting to feel a little cramped, “I guarantee you throughout the ages men—yes, including me—have always found time for both women and their cars, so chin up. We know what we’re talking about here. I remember when I got my first car. I saved up money from detassling corn. Dad chipped in some but he said I had to earn the rest plus enough to keep it in gas. When I finally bought that Chevy my dad wouldn’t let me drive it until he made sure I knew how to change a tire, clean the spark plugs, change the oil . . . maintenance things he said no man should be on the road without knowing how to do. I also remember how the car became his parental leverage. The first time I blew my curfew, no car. The first time I mouthed off to him, no car. Just remember, vehicles give parents leverage.”
Delbert had opened the glove compartment again and was reading the manual. “This thing’s got a V-8?”
“Yup,” Josh said, the perk returning to his voice.
“No wonder your mother wants you to earn your own gas money. Man, a V-8. I bet this thing could lay quite the patch of rubber popping off the line.”
Josh leaned back so he could look behind Jacob to see his Uncle Delbert’s face. “Lay a patch of rubber? Pop off the line? What kind of pastor talk is that?” he asked, grinning.
“It’s not. It’s guy talk. We’re just three guys sitting in a cold truck,” he said, swiping at the foggy windows.
“We better get back to the party before people start to talk,” Jacob said, laughing. “Let me out of here.” Both doors opened at once.
When they were almost to the back door Josh stuck his hand out first to Jacob, then to Delbert. “Thanks, guys,” he said, giving them each a hearty shake. “Jacob, how long you gonna be in town this time? I want to make sure I do get to see if my new wheels can pop off the line before you go. After all, you are the one who asked me how fast it could do zero to sixty, aren’t you?”
“Don’t get me in any more trouble with your mom than I already am, sport, okay? As for how long I’ll be around, let me get back to you on that.”
Jacob arrived in the living room just in time to see Katie, Herb and Gladys working their way into a tight-knit group of . . . who was that? “Uh-oh,” he said to his mom. “Show-down time?”
“Hang on a minute,” she said. “I’m praying.”
Jacob watched the shifting gathering. He was used to studying body language in court, which had always served him well. He couldn’t help but stare at the smile on Katie’s face. Man, he thought, she was certainly turning on her high beams. Cora was nearly salivating. It was clear she knew she had the best seat in the house. Herb looked nervous. George spread his feet a little farther apart as if to plant his position. Jacob was sure George’d have crossed his arms over his chest if his hands had been empty. Sam Vitner’s eyes were slightly squinted as he listened to whatever Katie was saying. Gladys’s eyes were focused on Sam. She yanked down on the bottom of her blazer. Jacob had been around Gladys enough to know that could mean anything, but she was most likely readying herself to exercise authority if need be. He looked at his mother for a moment. Although her eyes were open he could tell she was still praying—her lips were moving.
He saw Sam lean in toward Katie. He must have a slight hearing problem, Jacob thought, and the party was plenty loud. He scanned the room and noticed he wasn’t the only one studying the group. A few heads were nodding toward what folks figured was a face-off. George started talking, then Gladys said something. Katie held her hands up in front of her as though she were a crossing guard stopping traffic. She began to nod her head, agreeing with something George was saying. Herb put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and Katie smiled at him. Cora’s eyebrows flew up in the air at whatever Katie said next. Then . . . Katie extended her hand to Sam and he took it. Sam was actually smiling at the handshake, which astounded Jacob. Katie ought to be an attorney, he mused. Next, for the briefest of moments, she rested her hand on George’s upper arm. No handshake, nothing overdone, but George gave his head a quick up-and-down nod. Didn’t look like a bond but a guarded agreement. “Amen,” he heard his mother say next to him. Herb said something to Cora who pursed her lips.
Katie was the first to excuse herself from the circle. Gladys and Herb stayed on a bit longer, the circle clearly talking about Katie. Cora’s husband walked up, said something to her and she waved good-bye to him. Herb left the circle next, then Gladys, leaving George, Sam and Cora alone together again. They said a few words to each other, Sam shrugging his shoulders, then they dispersed into different areas of the party.
“How’d it go?” Dorothy asked Katie who had walked up beside her.
“Brilliant. Dorothy Jean Wetstra, you are a genius.”
Jacob snapped his head around at the sound of Katie’s voice and raised his eyebrows at his mother. “My mom the genius, huh?”
“Well, I will admit to being clever, but really, only the Big Guy can calm these kinds of waters.”
“What the heck happened over there?” Jacob asked, clearly in awe.
Katie turned her high-beam smile on him. “I just told Sam that I’m going to need his help learning about antiques, how to price them so whatever crossover we might have is compatible.” Jacob nodded his head. “I told him we’re going to put flyers in the mini mall advertising his business and that I hoped we could send customers back and forth, maybe occasionally even swap out some of our items, help keep each of our offerings fresh. It was clear he was completely shocked and disarmed, but more importantly, he liked the idea.”
“How’d it go with Herb and George?” Dorothy asked.
“Herb told George how much the value of his corner station property has no doubt already increased since it’s on the main stretch to our soon-to-be revitalized downtown area. Said he ought to be thinking about things like that for when he retires and is ready to sell.”
“Okay, I’m impressed,” Jacob said.
“But wait until you hear this,” Katie said, lowering her voice and checking to make sure nobody else was within earshot, “and this one I thought up myself. I told Cora Davis that a clueless City Slicker such as myself will certainly need to depend on the vast wealth of knowledge she has about this town.” Dorothy laughed out loud. “Cora immediately started chomping at the bit to become my best friend.”
“Of course,” Dorothy said, “since that will glue her right to the horse’s mouth.”
“Exactly. But honestly, Gladys came up with the most ingenious thing. She told them she’s going to make a proclamation at our mini mall’s grand opening touting all three of their fine contributions to our town improvement endeavors.”
“I must say, it sounds like the plan of action went better than I would have ever expected,” Dorothy said. “Thank You, Jesus!”
“Sounds like you’ve certainly covered the bases,” Jacob added.
“Oh, but there’s more: I’ve decided I need a break. There will be no moving forward with any of this until after the holidays, which will hopefully also give any negative buzz a chance to die down. I’m not even going to work on the gutting of the Taninger building for now. The beginning of the year we’ll grind back into action, hold a town meeting to explain the strategies, gather input and implement a townwide competition to name the mall. That made a huge dent in gaining a few converts, enough to convince Sam to shake my hand. I think George’s verdict is still out, but S
am did seem calmed down, for which I’m grateful.”
“Brilliant,” Jacob said. “I should have you come to the East Coast to give my closing arguments.”
“Oh, no. It’s your mom you need to fly to Philadelphia. She’s the brilliant one.”
“I have a better idea,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he put his arm around his mother and drew her close to his side. “How about she stays put in her Vine Street home and I come to her for that kind of action. See if I can do my part to help revitalize Pardon-Me-Ville, say maybe by investing in my own piece of real estate and taking over Rick Lawson’s law practice.”
Dorothy looked up at her son and did a double take. Katie looked puzzled. Josh, who had walked up with Shelby just prior to Jacob’s statement, let out what could only be described as a war-whoop.
“Surely you don’t mean to tell us, Jacob Henry Wetstra,” Dorothy said, staring at her son, “that you’re moving back here, do you?” The hopeful lilt in her voice revealed the sudden depth of her joy at the possibility.
“Not only do I mean to tell you, Mom, but I am telling you—with a few reservations, of course. Merry early Christmas,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
Josh let out another war-whoop which caught the attention of several people in the room, especially when he high-fived Jacob when Jacob lifted his head from kissing his mom.
“Oh, Jacob!” Dorothy’s eyes were tearing up. She wanted to grab a bullhorn and tell the world that her first-born son would be moving back to town! She wanted to let everyone know they could quit worrying about their legal matters since undoubtedly the best attorney in the land (okay, she was his mom) would soon be there to help them. She wanted to squeeze him and thank him and. . . . “OH!”
“Now don’t get too excited yet, Mom. I have to go back to Pennsylvania right after Christmas and it’s uncertain how long it will take for me to handle things with my practice. Preliminary talks with my partner sound encouraging, but we’re a long way from a deal.”
“Have you talked to the Lawsons about this yet?” Katie asked, her cheeks suddenly reddening, the beginning of a hot flash revving itself up.
“Several times.”
“What’s all the hooten’ and hollerin’ about over here?” Doc asked.
“My Jacob is moving back to Partonville and taking over Rick’s law practice,” Dorothy all but sang.
“Now, Mom, that’s just the tentative plan. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Well, now, if that doesn’t call for a cup of Christmas cheer from the punch bowl on the left, I don’t know what does!” Doc said.
Word about the corner powwow, including the mini-mall naming competition, had already been circulating. But now Jacob’s return spread through the party like wildfire. One of their own who had made good was coming back home!
Suddenly the sounds of Arthur Landers’s Hohner harmonica could be heard playing “Happy Days Are Here Again,” which he immediately followed with “Jingle Bells” to start everyone singing. It was the beginning of the annual songfest, one that would go on for the next forty minutes. Katie, whose body had cranked itself into a full-fledged hot flash by now, enjoyed the music but needed a breath of cool air. The house was warm with all these bodies, especially since they’d gathered close to sing. She wormed her way through the crowd, made her way to the front door and cracked it open. She stuck her head out and started taking deep, long breaths. As it turned out, she’d mindlessly moved herself right under the mistletoe. Jessica saw her there, she and Paul having visited the mistletoe twice already, Sarah Sue squished between them as they puckered up. “Look who’s under the mistletoe,” she said to Paul. Jacob overheard the comment and checked to see for himself.
Katie Durbin, under the mistletoe. Now there was something worth teasing her about. He looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed other than Jessica, who had since become distracted by Sarah Sue’s onslaught of crankiness. He overheard the Joys say they needed to get going before Sarah Sue let loose with a wail and intruded on the singing, and off they went upstairs to retrieve their coats. The rest of the crowd was gathered around Arthur, too busy singing and making merry to notice Katie’s whereabouts.
Katie was unaware Jacob had stepped up behind her since she still had her head stuck outside. When she backed up to close the door, she stumbled right into him. She gasped, and he caught her by the arms, where he held her a moment before looking up, which caused her to do the same. “Mistletoe,” he said, noticing her cheeks were flushed.
“Jessica’s idea. She thought it would be fun.”
“Hmm. What do you think?” he asked, releasing her arms.
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“Hokey. But I guess people have enjoyed it,” she said, quickly sidestepping around Jacob to get out from under the awkward predicament.
Jacob turned to see where she was off to in such a hurry. She pressed her way through the songsters and disappeared into the kitchen. Then he caught his mother’s eye. She’d obviously witnessed the encounter. She was wearing that mischievous twinkly-eyed look on her face, the one that said she knew something. She winked, then gestured for him to stay where he was as she quick-footed in his direction.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked when she arrived.
“Look who’s under the mistletoe,” she said, looking up, then giving him a smooch on the cheek. “Welcome back to Pardon-Me-Ville, son,” she said with a merry laugh. “I have absolutely no doubt it’s right where you belong.”
THE END
A Note from the Author
Writing this book was an ongoing adventure in serendipity. Never has the veil been thinner between fiction and Real Life. Never has the breath of transcendence blown me more freely and wholly into “the other”—or “the same,” depending upon how you want to look at it. (Or, am I leading a parallel life with myself? Ah, a topic for a different kind of series, huh?)
Call this synergy between Real Life and Partonville what you like, but I call it blessing and wonder. What’s a girl writer to do other than simply allow herself to get caught up in it and enjoy the ride?! (Swirl-swirl-swirl. Type-type-type.) To my ongoing amazement, it seemed like every time I was about to tackle a scene, something in my Real Life would “just happen” to feed straight into it.
For instance, one day I was writing away, eyes on the monitor, and when I looked out my window, a new dusting of snow blanketed the ground. YIKES! I was just about to write that! (Or had I typed it and then it snowed?) Or I’d be reading my local newspapers (la-la-la) and . . . OH! I can’t believe it! I just wrote about this in Partonville yesterday!
I’m currently enjoying reading the “ride” of another author, but I’m also finding that some of her plotline is freaking me out! In her story, someone’s odd aunt dies, an event that brings the protagonist to a small town. The attorney in this small town is a character and his office is on the second floor of a brick building. WAIT! That all happened in Partonville in 1999 when I was writing my first draft of Dearest Dorothy, Are We There Yet? Is there really only one story in Imaginationland? And do all the authors tap into it? Or, is it just that there are so many attorneys, who also happen to be characters, who handle cases in small towns where odd aunts die that we can’t help but write about it? Or, are authors, by the very nature of their imaginations, offing odd aunties?
WHOA! It just occurred to me I am an odd auntie.
So . . . let’s imagine these things in Partonville, Charlene: a young mother gets pregnant. Grief is hard. Mistletoe is enchanting. Memories bind us together. Friendships are grace in action. Vision and hope—along with a fair amount of bucks—drive progress. Love lurks and endures. Pets are a wonderful thing.
And so it goes in Real Life, too. Amen.
Charlene Ann Baumbich
www.welcometopartonville.com
[email protected]
, Dearest Dorothy, Merry Everything!
Dearest Dorothy, Merry Everything! Page 23
