“Wow. Maybe. Let me talk to Denise and get back. Is Randy coming?”
Baby brother Randy was one of the busiest and best studio musicians in the business. “Haven’t talked to him yet. Has he checked in with you lately? He was in Amsterdam when he called a few weeks ago.”
“Talked to him on Monday. He’s in London.”
“Okay.”
“But put us down as a strong possibility. Denise and I have been wanting to come out to see your little Mayberry, so this might be perfect.”
“I’d love to see you.”
“Same here. And hang in there. Hopefully Dex will come to his senses, and you guys can get this worked out.”
“I hope so.”
“You will. Give Zoey my love. Dex too, when you talk to him.”
“Will do.”
“Love you, girl.”
“Love you more.” She ended the call.
Although Tommy hadn’t offered any eureka-type advice, talking to him had made her feel better. It also made her wonder if his assessment of men held any truth. Considering all Reggie’s successes, she couldn’t imagine him being insecure about anything, stupid or otherwise.
Leaving the bed, she forced her feet into her slippers and headed for the bathroom. She wasn’t the type to wallow, so it was time to get the day under way.
As far as she knew, there were no boiler problems at Marie Jefferson Academy, so after taking care of her morning needs she padded down the hallway to make sure Zoey was up.
She stuck her head in the door and paused with surprise at the sight of her daughter standing in front of her mirrored vanity table, lifting small blue hand weights. “Good morning.”
Zoey quickly placed her hands behind her back, as if Roni had suddenly gone blind and hadn’t seen what was in them.
“Why’re you lifting weights, Zoey? Did Dad say it was okay?”
Silence.
“Guess the answer is no. Tell you what,” Roni said, coming into the room and taking a seat on one of the chairs. “How about you put the weights down and let’s talk about this.”
Zoey stood there for a moment, looking over at Roni as if trying to decide if she was in trouble and if so how much, but finally placed the sky-blue weights on the bed, stood beside it, and waited.
“And you can sit on the bed, too. It’s okay.”
She climbed up.
“So, tell me why you’re secretly lifting weights.”
“I asked Dad, and he said I was too young—my body wasn’t ready yet.”
“So, what, you didn’t believe him?”
No answer at first. “I believed him, but—”
“But you wanted to do it anyway.”
Shame-faced nod of agreement.
“Okay. So tell me what is so important that you dissed your dad’s advice—who’s a doctor by the way. You do know that, right?”
Zoey whispered, “Yes.”
“Just making sure. So give me the reason you blew off what he said.”
Once again, there was silence and much staring at the lap. “I want to be strong enough to lift Rocky’s motorcycle.”
Roni stared, confused. “What?”
“Rocky said I could learn how to drive her motorcycle once I was strong enough to lift it.”
Roni folded her arms and studied her remarkable child. “You know, if I ever catch you on a motorcycle, both you and Rocky will need a burial plot.”
Silence—then, “Do I have to paint the fence for disobeying Dad?”
Roni shook her head. “No, but we need to talk about this after school. In the meantime, you get ready for breakfast. I have a taste for blueberry waffles. You want to split a few with me?”
Zoey’s eyes widened, and her face beamed bright as the sun. “Yeah!”
“Then I’ll meet you downstairs.” On her way down the steps a humor-filled Roni called out, “Lord give me the strength to raise this child!”
As they sat down to eat, Zoey forked up a bit of waffle and said, “These are so awesome.”
“Why thank you.”
“Are you and Dad getting a divorce?”
Roni choked on a swallow of orange juice. Once she recovered, she said, “No.”
“Good. Dad said the same thing.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“I told him I wouldn’t want you to be like Mrs. Cleaver and that you’d be sad without your music.”
“I would be.” She wondered how Reg reacted to that bit of wisdom.
“If you get divorced, I might turn into a pain in the behind like Tiffany, and nobody has time for that.”
Roni chuckled. “You are so right.” She met the bright eyes of her child. “Thanks for having my back.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, and went back to her waffles.
Once breakfast was done, Zoey and her crew rode off for school, and Roni drove to the Dog for a talk with Rocky. She was pretty certain Rocky would never put Zoey in harm’s way, so there had to be more to the story about the motorcycle.
Inside the Dog the morning rush was over, so the place was rather quiet. She waved at Mal, who was bringing breakfast to Marie, Genevieve, and Clay Dobbs, but the sight of Bernadine and Lily sitting in a booth was surprising. “What are you two doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the Plant, doing the Power Rangers thing?”
Bernadine answered. “We’re waiting on Gary so we can tour the store.”
Lily moved over so Roni could join them.
Once seated, Roni asked Bernadine, “So how long is your sister visiting?”
She replied over her cup, “Too long. She’s going to be with me for a while.”
Before Roni could inquire further, Rocky came over to the table. “Morning, Roni. Can I get you something?”
“Yes, coffee—but let me ask you something first. I walked in on our mini me lifting weights this morning. She said you told her you’d let her drive your bike when she got strong enough to lift it. Is that true?”
Rocky shook her head and blew out a breath. “It was the only thing I could think of to get her to stop pestering me about wanting to learn. No way is she old enough, and no way is she strong enough. I even have trouble getting that Shadow upright.”
Roni understood now. “Okay, gotcha. Girlfriend doesn’t take a no real well.”
“Tell me about it. Isn’t she too young to be lifting weights?”
“Yes, and apparently Reg told her that, but—”
Rocky finished the sentence. “Girlfriend doesn’t take a no real well.”
Lily cracked, “Knowing Zoey, she’ll probably make those muscles appear overnight out of sheer will.”
“Well, she’ll have to lift in her dreams from now on.”
Rocky moved off to get the coffee, and Roni returned the talk to Diane. “So how long is your sister staying?”
“Maybe until the Second Coming. And her comments to the contrary, my brother-in-law divorced her, not the other way around.”
“Oh.”
“And I told her if she plans to stay, she needs to find a job.”
Lily asked, “What’s she qualified for?”
“Other than trying to make me look bad? She headed up her husband’s dental office for a few years, so I guess she could do that, somewhere.”
“Reggie’s looking for a new office manager,” Roni offered, hoping that info might help. “Do you think she’d like to interview?”
Bernadine replied, “She doesn’t have much choice. I’ll let her know.”
“He left for Seattle this morning. Be back Saturday.”
“Okay, good.”
Rocky returned with the coffee and she poured the hot brew into Roni’s cup. “I know you just finished the new CD,” she asked. “What’s next?”
Roni gave her a quick explanation about the tribute CD she wanted to do. “But I told Reg I’d stay away from the studio for a while.”
Her disappointment must have been plain because Lily asked gently, “Still having issues?”
“Yeah. If I could just get him to talk about it, maybe we could figure it out, but he won’t.”
“How about a sit-down with Paula?” Bernadine asked.
“I suggested that and he said no so fast you’d’ve thought I’d asked him to run naked down Main Street. Frustrating.”
Gary Clark arrived on the heels of that. “Morning, ladies.”
They all greeted him in turn.
Bernadine gathered up her things and asked Roni, “You want to come along? You’re welcome, you know.”
“Thanks, but no. I’ll stay and finish up my coffee.”
Lily appeared worried. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I am. I’ll see you all later.”
After their departure, Roni sat in the booth alone. She sipped and thought about Zoey’s championing of her cause, which made her smile. Again she wondered how Reggie had taken it. Realizing she might never know, she finished her coffee and stood. Leaving the money for her bill beneath her empty cup, she slipped out.
On her way back to the house she swung by her recording studio. From the simple exterior, it was impossible to tell its purpose. It was one story, had a hexagonal shape, and its kelly green bricks were her tribute to Zoey. She used her key to let herself in and turned on the lights. They were dimmed like she preferred, and for a moment she simply stood there, taking in the booth where she laid down her tracks and the huge electronic board where Jason sat and worked his audio magic. The studio wasn’t blinged out with lights and chrome like some of the places she’d recorded in, but it had the best acoustics and equipment her money could buy. Just the sight of the place made her want to put down her purse, step into the booth, and sing. Would Reggie ever understand that what went on in this building was as vital to her life as their love for each other? The pain of their discord rose again, but she beat it down and came to a decision. If Reggie didn’t want her, fine—her music did. Locking the door behind her, she walked to her car, took out her phone, and hit the speed dial for Jason. Whether Reggie approved or not, her gift was calling, and she planned to answer.
Over at the school, Zoey was doing her best not to stare too much at the new kid. He’d joined their classroom that morning, and his name was Wyatt Dahl. She didn’t know how old he was, but from the work he was assigned, she assumed him to be no more than a year older. He was about Devon’s size, which meant he was skinny, and he had black hair like hers and green eyes like her mom Bonnie. According to Mr. James, Wyatt and his family recently moved to Franklin from Chicago. She had no idea why somebody would leave a big city like that to live in Kansas, but she supposed it had to do with his parents. When he looked over and saw her watching him, she quickly dropped her eyes to her book, but she took peeks at him for the rest of the morning.
At lunch, he came outside and stood for a moment, as if not sure what he was supposed to do, so Devon went over and brought him back to the table. Everyone introduced themselves. When it became her turn, she said, “I’m Zoey Raymond Garland.”
Devon groaned. “God. Why do you always say ‘Zoey Raymond Garland’?” he asked in a mincing voice. “Why don’t you just say ‘Zoey Garland’?”
“And why don’t you just shut up?” she shot back. Amari and the older kids watched with amusement.
Ignoring the mini argument, Wyatt sat. “Hi, Zoey Raymond Garland.”
She grinned. “Hi.”
Leah led the gentle interrogation of Wyatt, and when she was done, they’d all learned he was an only child living with his grandmother. He had no dad, and his mom had been killed last year in Afghanistan.
“She was in the army,” he explained. “She stepped on an IED.”
The others seemed to know what that was, but Zoey didn’t. She planned to Google it when she got home.
“Sorry for your loss,” Leah said quietly, and everyone else offered condolences as well.
“I miss her a lot,” he added.
Amari said, “Zoey lost her mom, too.”
Devon added in a disapproving voice, “But she died of a drug overdose.”
Preston snapped, “What are you, the National Enquirer? Damn, Devon. What does that have to do with anything? Shut up for a minute, would you?”
Wyatt looked over at Zoey, but she concentrated on eating and wanting Devon struck by lightning. She wondered if Wyatt now thought she was bad. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did.
Amari spoke up. “Zoey’s a nice person.”
There seemed to be general agreement on that. Yes, Tiffany rolled her eyes, but the support made Zoey feel good and not care that Devon appeared mad about the verbal smack-down meted out by Brain.
When the time came to go back inside, Zoey walked her trash to the container. Wyatt got there a step later. He tossed his trash in and said, “Nice to meet you, Zoey Raymond Garland.”
She gave him a nod. “Nice to meet you, too.” As they returned to the classroom and took their seats, her heart was beating really fast. Cute boys were usually on TV or in magazines, but for the very first time she knew one in real life.
C H A P T E R
9
After touring the store, Bernadine returned to the Power Plant. On tap was a review of the architectural drawings for the rebuilding of the old Henry Adams hotel site. Because neither she nor the town elders knew what they wanted the site to become, she’d had her architects sketch out a few possibilities.
Opening the e-mail and its attachments, she saw that the first one was for a hotel. It was small—in keeping with the size of the town; no one expected Henry Adams to be hosting conventions. It was only two stories, but its edgy design would go well with the other new buildings in town. The next drawing was of a one-story strip mall holding six shops. The architect had added plantings and a fountain to give the building some character, but she wasn’t sure her town needed such a thing. The shops were labeled “Beauty Shop,” which brought to mind Crystal’s friend; “Hardware,” which would give Mayor Wiggins fits because he owned the hardware/feed store in Franklin; “Bakery,” of which there were none within fifty miles; “Bookstore,” which every community needed, in her opinion; and, for the last two, “Bikes,” which garnered a shrug, and the smile-invoking “Bernadine’s Bangles,” a jewelry store. Granted, the businesses were named just for the rendering, but she kind of liked the idea of the bookstore, beauty shop, and bakery; hardware too, maybe. If the places were to be profitable, they’d have to be patronized by more than the handful of local residents, though.
That being the case, she turned her mind to something she’d been trying not to deal with—more residents. For Henry Adams to survive, growth was essential. Without new arrivals to sink familial roots and raise their children, the town would once again be on a fast track to death. Thanks to her wise investments there was still plenty of money available to fund whatever might be needed, but after her demise there’d eventually come a time when the town would have to go its way alone, and the only way that would happen was if it had enough of a tax base to keep the dream alive. She’d provided a school, a solid infrastructure of roads, homes, and lighting, a recreation center, and a church. It was a great beginning, but the town needed more people.
Her computer held the names and addresses of at least fifteen families who wanted to move in, yet she’d placed the requests on the back burner because she wasn’t sure how it might affect the town’s ideal. Henry Adams was a family. For all intents and purposes, everyone got along—Riley Curry being the exception, but he and that hog of his were in Hollywood and out of the town’s hair for the time being. Her concern was that opening up residency might kill that spirit. There was also the issue of how to go about picking new residents. Should there be a lottery, or should she just throw open the gates to anyone who could afford to move in? Granted, not everyone was going to want to live in a historic Black town, but it was her wish that everyone who did, no matter their race, would respect its traditions and want to participate in things like the August First celebrations, no
t look down their noses at the idea.
She rose from her chair and walked over to the windows that looked out onto Main Street. The once-crater-filled dirt road was now paved, and there were sidewalks and streetlights where there hadn’t been when she first arrived. To the north, open fields of autumn-kissed grasses stood between town and the land owned by the Julys and the Jeffersons. That open acreage belonged to her, and she’d become so accustomed to its pastoral beauty that it was hard to envision it taken over by shops, homes, and the like. Preserving as much open land as possible was paramount, but whether she embraced the idea or not, more residents would have to be brought in. They were needed to ensure the future.
With her decision made, she went back to the drawings. She needed to prep a presentation concerning all this for next Monday’s town meeting, so she opened a new file on her laptop and began.
An hour later she had a detailed outline that met with her approval. She’d be relying on her core group of residents to aid her in refining the plan, pointing out the things she might have overlooked, and giving her the valuable feedback she’d come to expect.
Her watch and grumbling stomach let her know it was way past lunchtime. She supposed she should swing by the house to see if Diane wanted to join her at the Dog, so she grabbed her purse and keys. She also wanted to alert her sister to the possibility of employment with Reggie. It might not go well, but Bernadine didn’t care. The woman needed a job. Those thoughts led her back to the sadness she’d sensed in Roni that morning. Bernadine cared for both the Garlands, but it wasn’t her place to choose sides. Nothing kept her from hoping their issues were ironed out, though, for the sake of their marriage, for Roni’s music, and, most importantly, for Zoey.
“Lord, that man is fine!” Diane gushed, watching Mal interact with a couple seated on the far side of the diner.
Bernadine did her best to ignore the remark and concentrated on eating her salad.
“You know, if I wanted to have him for myself, I could.”