“No need to thank me. He was a part of my childhood, too.”
“In Nashville all my friends are music related. Seems like all we talk about is music. But back here it’s … well, it’s good to reminisce a little.”
“Yes, well …” He thought of how much she’d changed in these few short days at home, and how much his opinion of her had changed as well. He wondered what her reaction would be if he simply walked back to her side of the alley and kissed her. But it struck him afresh who she was, and who he was, and that he was on his way inside to call Faith and say good night.
“Good night again,” he called, doing the right thing. “See you Sunday.”
“Yeah, see you Sunday.”
After Tess had taken Tricia home and prepared for bed she turned out the light and stood for a few minutes at the window overlooking the backyard. Across the alley one upstairs light was on in the bedroom that used to be his when he was a child. Did he still use that room? Or was it Casey’s now? What was the point of wondering? Yet she did, even after she got into bed and lay in the dark going over this evening and how very, very enjoyable it had been. Singing with him, driving with him, petting the horse with him, talking about the old days. It was true what she’d told him when he was walking back to his house, every friend she had now was somehow connected to the music industry. None of them had known her as a child, none could share recollections of her past, yet Kenny even remembered her father. How precious his story had been and how very connected it made her feel, as if this place would always be here for her, with its living family as well as its dead. This then was nostalgia making its impact, and in her lucid moments she realized it was temporary and would fade as soon as she returned to Nashville. But in her less guarded moments, it—and Kenny Kronek, too—made her question where she belonged.
In the bright light of morning she knew exactly where she belonged. The daily express packet arrived from Kelly Mendoza and it was back to business, in between housekeeping duties. She called Jack Greaves and told him, “I’m going to ask Casey Kronek to sing backup on ‘Small Town Girl.’ Okay with you?”
“I think your voices are a perfect blend.”
“Thanks, Jack. This means a lot to me.”
“Not nearly as much as it means to Casey Kronek, I’ll bet.”
“Listen, put it on the schedule for the first week of June.”
“Will do.”
She went to find Mary and tell her. Mary was resting in bed with her eyes closed and a cup of coffee balanced on her stomach, as if she’d just dozed off. As Tess stopped in the doorway a floorboard creaked and Mary awakened with a start. Her hands jerked and the coffee sloshed onto the sheets.
“Oh, Tess … oh, dear, look what I’ve done. The sheets.”
“That’s okay, Momma, I can change them.” She went in and took the cup from Mary, setting it aside. “I came to tell you something exciting.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to ask Casey to sing backup on the song we wrote together.”
“You mean on the real record?”
She no longer tried to correct Mary when she referred to tapes and CDs as records. “Yes. I just talked to Jack about it.”
“But Kenny isn’t going to like it.”
“I got his permission last night.”
“You did?”
“I wouldn’t ask Casey without it.”
Mary thought a moment. “Well, in that case then, my, this is going to be something, isn’t it? Casey’s going to flip when you tell her.”
“You know what, Momma?” Tess sat on the edge of the bed with the air of a girl sharing confidences. “It’s really exciting to find somebody with talent like hers, and to be able to give her a start. And everything’s so perfect, the two of us having written the song together; the old, established star taking the young one under her wing when we’re both from the same small town. It’ll make great press, and besides that, Casey and I are going to have fun together, I can tell.”
Mary squeezed the back of Tess’s hand. “It’s real nice of you to do this for her, honey.”
“I think I’m going to get as much out of it as she is.”
It was one of the more contented moments Tess had shared with Mary since coming home. They sat holding hands for a moment, enjoying each other while Tess mused, “Maybe someday we’ll be in concert together and you can come and hear us both.”
“Wouldn’t that be something.”
Mary had been to several of Tess’s concerts during her career, but the plane rides were getting harder on her. She hadn’t heard Tess live in six years.
“Well …” Tess said, realizing there were things to do. “Better get these sheets in the washer, huh? Up and out of there, Momma, unless you want to get thrown in with them.”
The rapport between them was too good to last. A half hour later when the sheets were washed, Tess went downstairs and put them in the dryer. She came back up to find Mary waiting in the kitchen with her walker.
“You didn’t throw them in the dryer, did you?” she said anxiously as Tess came around the corner.
Tess halted, nonplussed. “Well … yes … I did.”
“Sheets get wrinkled in the dryer. I want them hung on the line.”
“What will it hurt this once?”
“I never put my sheets in the dryer.”
“Momma,” Tess said, exasperated.
“They smell stale and the hems get all crinkled up.”
“I dried them in the dryer on Saturday.”
“I know, and they were all wrinkled. Hang them outside.”
Tess’s mouth took on a stubborn set. “I don’t know how.”
“Well, it’s time you learn.”
Tess wanted to shout, “Why? It’s an obsolete method and I’ll never use it again!”
“Besides,” Mary added, “there’s no sense burning up electricity on a nice day like this.”
Tess would have gladly paid the damned electric bill, but saying so would only prolong the argument. Mary turned away and stumped to a high kitchen stool, ordering, “Put them in the clothes basket and bring them up here and I’ll show you how.”
Tess stomped back downstairs, the affable mood of earlier soured. In Nashville she had a housekeeper who took care of laundry for her, yet here she was doing it for her mother, and she thought she was doing pretty well, considering her lack of experience. Couldn’t Mary accept things done just a little differently for the two and a half weeks that were left?
Mary was sitting on the stool waiting to deliver the useless instructions when Tess brought the laundry basket up and dropped it down beside her, then stood there with her mouth puckered like a dried mushroom. Mary stretched the edges of the sheets, got them doubled together and gathered into three peaks. “Here, hold it this way. It’s all ready for the clothespins. Then just do the second one the same way, only match the four corner seams.”
Outside, the first sheet went up with no trouble. The second one—the fitted one—was like wrestling a python. It was midmorning and Tess hoped to God nobody was home at Kenny’s house watching out the window while she made a nincompoop of herself. Around here there were probably women who still didn’t own an electric dryer, while she didn’t even know how to hang a sheet.
She was in a full-fledged snit by the time she finished and clumped back to the house. Mary had been watching through the window and said, “You stick the corners together first, and then hang them.”
Tess wanted to shout, “When I get out of here I’m never going to hang another sheet for the rest of my life, so bug off, Mother!” She bit her tongue instead and decided the best way to handle her anger was to get out of the house for a while.
“I’m going up to Stillman’s Market. What do you want for supper?”
“Well, we haven’t had beef roast in quite a while. That’s easy.”
Fatty beef roast. What else had she expected?
Tess swung by Renee’s house hoping to unload s
ome of her pent-up frustrations, but Renee was distracted by wedding preparations and her phone kept ringing. Finally Tess left, and on her way out the door Renee gave her a hug, and said, “She doesn’t mean to get on your nerves so badly. It’s just that she’s not used to having other people around doing things their way. She’s lived alone a long time.”
“I know,” Tess conceded, and though her visit with Renee had been brief, it had helped.
A short while later she was selecting green grapes at Stillman’s Market when she turned around and collided with a shopping cart.
“Oh, excuse me.”
“Tess?” a familiar voice said. “Oh, my gosh, it’s you! I heard you were back!”
“Mindy Alverson!”
“It’s Mindy Petroski now.”
“Mindy Petroski, of course, I knew that, but you’ll always be Alverson to me. It is so good to see you!”
They hugged hard and rocked like bell buoys, bumping their shopping carts together and making them chime. Finally Mindy gripped Tess’s arms and set her back to get a better look.
“Hey, you look fabulous, Tess!”
“So do you.” Mindy was still dishwater blond, still wearing jeans, still needed heavier tweezing between the eyebrows. Her hips had spread and her breasts had drooped, but she didn’t seem to care. “Momma says you live here now, and you and your husband own the appliance store.”
“Right around the corner from the town square where Moore’s Plumbing used to be.”
“Oh, sure, I know where that is. And you have kids.”
“Three.” Mindy stretched out her T-shirt. It said, Moms Rule When Their Kids Let Them.
They stood in the aisle catching up. Mindy’s parents had sold the house and lived out on Lake Wappapello. Her husband liked to fish, so they spent a lot of time out there. Of the classmates from high school only a couple lived around here anymore.
“Speaking of kids from high school though,” Mindy said, “it’s all over town that you’ve been singing with Kenny Kronek’s church choir.”
“News travels fast.”
“When it’s about Wintergreen’s most famous graduate, of course it does.”
“How did you find out?”
“We play bridge with Kenny and Faith.”
“Ah, Kenny and Faith. So you’re good friends with them.”
“Pretty good. He does the taxes for our business, and he and I have worked on a couple of civic committees together. Kenny’s one of those guys who takes on the volunteer duties that nobody else wants to do. That’s how he became the choir director.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“If you need somebody to organize a Fourth of July parade, or a Lion’s Club pancake breakfast, all you have to do is ask Kenny. He knows everybody in town.”
“Surprising how people change after high school.”
“Oh, Tess, remember how mean we used to be to him? Weren’t we just awful?”
“I guess we were.”
“And he’s such a nice man, really he is.”
“My mother certainly thinks so. He’s over there helping her all the time.”
“Sounds like Kenny.”
Tess put some watermelon into her cart and asked, “So how does Faith fit into the picture?”
“Faith? Oh, they’ve been going together forever.”
“Funny they don’t marry.”
“I think he got stung pretty badly the first time—you know about his wife walking out on him?”
“Yes, I’ve heard.”
“My guess is he’ll never get married again, not to Faith or anybody else.”
They visited awhile longer, and though Tess was infinitely curious about the degree of intimacy between Kenny and Faith, she could hardly inquire about it in the aisle of the supermarket without starting the whole town talking. Furthermore, it was none of her business. If Kenny had wanted her to know, he would have answered her last night. Instead, he’d cut her off and changed the subject. When she said good-bye to Mindy, Mindy said, “You’ll still be here for the wedding, won’t you?”
“You mean Rachel and Brent’s? Of course.”
“Great! Well, we’ll see you there.”
And so Tess got a new take on Kenny Kronek. He was liked, respected, even praised by the townspeople, and no body seemed to think it odd that he’d never married Faith Oxbury.
At the end of that afternoon Tess was plucking the sheets off the clothesline when Faith pulled into the alley and got out of her car carrying a grocery sack.
“Hi, Tess!” she hailed, and came right over.
“Hi, Faith.”
“How did the choir practice go last night?”
“Went great. I really enjoyed it.”
“Kenny says you’re so good he feels ill matched to your talent.”
Tess couldn’t have been more surprised. “He said that?”
“Oh, he’s quite in awe of you and your fame.”
How peculiar that Faith should say a thing like that. He’d never given the slightest inkling he felt that way.
“While I’m here I’m just another singer in the Sunday choir.”
“Not to him you’re not. He’s having trouble sleeping at night, worrying about how you got roped into doing this, and afraid his choir isn’t good enough for you. I talked to him on the phone today and he was just a little bit grouchy. He said he didn’t sleep much at all last night.”
“Well … I’m sorry.” She glanced over at his old bedroom window. “Tell him …” Tell him I think the reason he didn’t sleep last night was something else entirely, just like it was for me. “Tell him while I’m here he should forget who I am and treat me just like everyone else.”
“See? That’s what I told him, that you’re so down to earth he’s worrying himself sick for nothing. I’ll tell him exactly what you said. Well …” She hefted the brown paper bag higher on her hip. “Better get home and get these pork chops in the oven.” Tess noticed that Faith called Kenny’s house “home.” She headed toward it, then stopped in the alley and called, “Oh, I almost forgot to ask, how’s Mary today?”
Driving me crazy. “The walking’s going better.”
“That’s just great. Well, you tell her I said hi, and call if she needs anything.”
“I will.”
• • •
It seemed as if everywhere she went around this town people spoke to her about Kenny. Either that, or she was running into him, until the man was on her mind constantly. So was it necessity or curiosity that drove her to his back door that evening at six forty-five when she’d put away the leftover roast beef and finished the dishes at home? Though she told herself she was going over to talk to Casey, she could have telephoned just as easily. Instead, when the dishes were put away and Mary was settled before the TV, Tess went into the bathroom, freshened her lipstick, shook her hair and crossed the alley to visit the Kronek house for the first time in eighteen years.
It was hot on Kenny’s back step. She knocked and waited. The wind and sun got trapped in the L where the porch met the house, and she felt beads of sweat trail down the valley between her breasts. She tried not to peer into the porch, but who can stand beside a glass wall and resist? Where his mother used to dry her gladiola bulbs in the autumn and hang clothes on rainy days, a sitting area had been created with bent-willow chairs and plants. It looked very cozy. She wondered if the change was Faith’s doing.
Suddenly Casey appeared. “Hey, Mac, what a surprise!” She threw open the door and held it with the toe of one cowboy boot. “Come on in!” She turned around and led the way, yelling, “Hey, you guys, it’s Mac!”
Tess realized the moment she stepped inside that she’d made a grave error in timing. The aroma of baked pork chops warned her that they were still eating their supper.
She followed Casey nevertheless, and when they entered the kitchen, there they sat, Kenny and Faith, at their meal, a picture of perfect domestic bliss. An array of old-fashioned foods was spread on the table b
efore them: pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, buttered hominy and a cucumber salad with dill sprinkled on top, probably the way Kenny’s mother had fixed it. They had just filled their plates and sat with their forks poised, staring at Tess. Casey returned to her chair. “Come on in and sit down. Want a glass of iced tea?”
“Oh, no … I’m sorry. I thought you all would be done eating. I’ll … I’ll come back later.”
Faith immediately rose, the picture of unruffled grace. “No, no! Please … come in, Tess. We’re running a little late because Kenny had a meeting after work today, but do sit down, I’ll get you some tea.”
Kenny rose and said, “I’ll get it. You sit down, Faith.”
Casey said, “I’ll get it. You both sit down.”
In her entire life Tess had never felt more of an imposter. Given what had passed between her and Kenny last night she was sure he could divine that part of her reason for coming here was curiosity. Now that she was here, eavesdropping on his domestic setup, she felt like a fool.
If he sensed her ulterior motive, he hid it well, recovered from his surprise and said politely, “Please … sit down, Tess.”
Casey made the point moot by putting a glass of iced tea at the empty place, then sitting back down and resuming her meal.
Tess sat, and said, “Thanks, Casey.”
She saw at a glance how Faith suited him. They might take turns cooking over here, but this was her production, and the way it looked, his mother might not even be dead. This was exactly the kind of meal Lucille would have prepared, probably even the kind of clothes she’d have worn. Faith had changed into pastel green cotton slacks and a crisp green-and-white print blouse. She looked as fresh and old-fashioned as her own cucumber salad. Even the kitchen had remained unchanged. Same white walls, same blue plastic clock, same Formica-topped table. Different curtains, but the same style hung on the same brass café rods. Tess even recognized the dishes they were eating from. When her gaze had roved around the room it returned to the table where Kenny and Faith made halting stabs at returning to their meal. She decided since she had ruined their peaceful meal, she might as well go the rest of the way.