“Yes, it’s the next town over. Go out to the road and turn left. Franklin’s not that far.”
“Okay.” He followed her instructions and soon they were underway.
“Do you want some music?” he asked.
“I do. Thanks.”
Soft jazz played lightly against the quiet interior.
After a few moments, he asked, “Is the weather ever going to get warmer? As in really warm? I’m not liking these forties one day, sixties the next.”
That amused her. “It’ll settle down soon. Where are you from?”
“Oakland.”
“Ah. California weather.”
“Yes. It can get cold there too, but it doesn’t hang around like this. Are you from here?”
“Yes. Lived here all my life.”
“Then you must like small towns.”
“I didn’t when I was younger, but now, I’m content. Finally realized there’s a lot to love.”
“Such as?”
“Lifelong friendships. Goodhearted people. No crime.”
“Gotcha. Enjoyed the town meeting. Never been to anything like that before.”
“Not many communities gather the way we do. We get together on Friday nights too, to watch movies at the recreation center.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We show an early one for the kids and a late one for the adults—usually classics. Carmen Jones. Casablanca. I think we’re showing Pinocchio and Dream Girls this Friday.”
“And everybody turns out?”
“Yes. Kids, babies, teenagers, grown folks.”
“That sounds really cool.”
“It is. I missed them when I was married. My ex-husband didn’t really care to go, but I’m there most Fridays now.”
“How long were you married?”
Gen sighed. “Truthfully, forty years too long. It took me a while to admit that he loved his hog more than me, but once I did, I left.”
He caught her eye in the mirror. “He loved a hog.”
“Yes. One of the downsides of being in a small town is that there are no secrets, so you may as well hear the story straight from the horse’s mouth.”
And when she was done with the telling, he asked, amazed, “The hog killed a man?”
“Sat on him until he went splat. And when the authorities carted the hog off, my idiot of an ex-husband broke the animal out of the county pen and the two went on the lam, like maybe they were the Dillinger Gang. It was unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry but this is funny.”
“It’s okay. In some ways it was, but it was also off the wall, stupid, and when the health department bulldozed my home, infuriating.” Just thinking about it made her temper spike so she calmed herself.
“Does your ex and his hog still live here?”
“No. Riley took him to Hollywood last year to make him a star.”
“What!”
“Truly crazy, right?”
“Yes. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I have, but I’m still standing and that’s what counts.”
“Amen.”
His approving tone made her add one more star to his name. “So what about you. Married? Divorced?”
“Widower. Lost my wife Carla to lupus almost thirty years ago now.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. Loved her madly.”
Gen wondered what it felt like to be loved so deeply. “Children?”
“Three. Two boys and a baby girl. All grown now of course. How about you? Any kids?”
“No.”
She saw him watching her from the mirror and she gave him a tiny shrug in response as if the gesture summed it up. She never knew whether she was the one with the fertility issue or Riley. Her doctor said she was fine. Riley never went.
They were now driving down Franklin’s main street. She directed him where to turn and to the address. He stopped the car out front. “Do you have my number so you can call when it’s time for me to take you back?” he asked.
She didn’t. After adding him to her contacts, she placed her phone back in her purse. “I’ll call you in about an hour.”
He came around to open the door for her. She wanted to tell him it was unnecessary but she knew it was his job so she kept it to herself and got out. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. See you in an hour.”
She nodded her agreement and climbed the steps to the porch. When Mrs. Rivard opened the door and ushered Gen inside, the black car eased away.
TC didn’t think it made much sense to drive back to Henry Adams and then immediately turn around and come back. He decided to check out Franklin instead. He had a good eye for landmarks so he was sure he wouldn’t have a problem finding his way back to the house to pick up Ms. Gibbs. Franklin was larger than Henry Adams. He passed a couple of national chain hotels and the many businesses lining the main street. Some had plywood over the windows though, as if they were closed, and houses in the neighborhoods sported plywood as well. He wondered what the story was on that. He made a point to ask Ms. Gibbs. Thinking of her made him replay the conversation they’d had on the drive. Her ex-husband sounded like an idiot. What kind of a man chose the company of a hog over a woman, especially one so fine? When she first came out of the house dressed in her blue leather jacket, black jeans, and flat black suede boots, she looked pretty fly. Were he in the market for a lady friend it would be someone like her. She was witty, had a sense of humor, but as he’d noted, had been through a lot. It took a strong woman to walk away from a marriage of over forty years and strike out on her own. Knowing what he did of Henry Adams though, he was sure she’d received plenty of support because it impressed him as the kind of place that looked after its own. She said she’d been in the area her entire life. He’d bet she’d been a showstopper when she was young. Even now she was a stunner.
He glanced up at the mirror and froze seeing a cop car behind him with its overhead light flashing. Sighing, he pulled over, rolled down the window, and assumed the position—hands on the steering wheel so they’d be in plain sight.
A big burly White cop in a brown uniform came to the window. “Morning, Mr. Barbour. I’m Will Dalton. County sheriff.”
TC’s voice mirrored his astonishment. “How do you know who I am?”
“You’re driving Ms. Brown’s town car and since you don’t look anything like Nathan, I called her.”
Amazed by that, TC shook his head with amusement.
“Small town,” the sheriff offered by way of explanation. “Welcome to Graham County.”
“Thanks.”
“Just wanted to introduce myself and let you know you have a taillight out. Have Trent get you a new one when you get back. You waiting on Ms. Gen?”
TC was further surprised. “Yes.”
“She’s doing a good thing helping folks out with her literacy teaching.” He handed TC a card. “My card. I’ll let my people know you’re Ms. Brown’s new driver. Got a few knuckleheads who think hassling new people is part of the job. It isn’t. If you have any trouble, show them that and have them call me. They’ll back down pretty quick.”
TC wondered if there was another word for amazement. “Thanks, Sheriff.”
“No problem. Have a nice day. Tell Ms. Gen I said hello, and don’t forget that taillight.”
“I won’t.”
When Dalton drove away, TC fell back against the black leather seat. “Wow.” In all his years he’d never had an encounter with law enforcement that even came close to this one. “Definitely not in Oakland anymore, Toto.”
TC was waiting outside the residence when Ms. Gibbs appeared in the doorway. He watched her give a parting hug to the elderly woman and as she waved goodbye TC got out and opened the door.
She approached him with a cheery “Hello there, Mr. Barbour.”
“Hey there. Ready?”
“I am.” Getting in, she offered the same soft-spoken thanks he’d grown accustomed to hearing. After clos
ing the door, he took his seat and they headed back to Henry Adams. “Sheriff Dalton says hello. Stopped me to introduce himself and to let me know my taillight is out. Gave me his card.”
“Will’s a good guy. He was in our town talent contest last summer. Plays a mean lead guitar.”
“Really?”
“Brought the house down. Plays with a group called Five-Oh. They almost won.”
He would have loved to have seen that. “Sounds like you small-town folks have a good time.”
“We do. Hopefully you’ll stick around long enough to see some of it.”
“I hope so, too.” And he meant it. “Do you want to be dropped off at your house?”
“No. I think I’ll stop at the Dog and get some lunch.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have another run today?” she asked.
“No. You’re it.”
“If you don’t have plans for lunch would you like to share a table?”
He paused and looked at her in the mirror. “That would be nice.”
“Then let’s go eat.”
As they entered the Dog it was the beginning of the lunch hour and the place wasn’t as crowded as it would be in the next hour or so. Bobby Womack’s cover of “California Dreamin’” was on the box. Gen didn’t know what possessed her to propose they have lunch, and she hoped he didn’t think she was trying to hit on him, but she enjoyed his company.
Mal came over and, seeing them standing side by side, paused a moment. “You two together?”
“Yes, Mal. I’m treating him to lunch for being such an excellent driver.” She didn’t care for the way Mal was eyeing him. “But it’s not a date so please don’t trip, okay?” Beside her TC chuckled softly, at what she didn’t know.
Apparently reassured, Mal stuck out his hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m Malachi July.”
“TC Barbour.”
“Nice meeting you.”
“Same here.”
“Let me get you a table.”
“Booth, Mal, please,” she said.
“Okay.”
A few seconds later they were seated in a booth along the wall of windows that looked out onto Main Street.
“How long have you known July?” he asked her.
“Since fourth grade.”
“One of those lifelong friendships you mentioned earlier.”
“Yes. He can be a bit mother hen-ish sometimes but his heart’s in the right place. And I’m going to apologize in advance. This is a small town and being in other folks’ business is in the water, so please excuse the looks you’ll probably get because we’re together.”
“I think I can handle it. It’s just lunch, right?”
The way he said it made her eye him for a moment. “Right.” He gave her the impression that he knew something she didn’t and was amused by it.
But before she could muse further, Rocky walked up with glasses of water and menus. “Hey, you two.”
Gen said, “Hey, Rock.”
“Hi, Ms. Rocky.”
“Hey, TC. Do you know what you want or do you need a minute?”
They viewed the menus. TC pointed to the color picture of the burger and fries.
Gen opted for the salmon salad.
“Gotcha. They’ll be right out. Oh, and you two look real good together.”
Gen’s jaw dropped.
TC burst out laughing.
“I’m just saying,” Rocky said in parting.
When they were alone again the horrified Gen said, “See why I apologized in advance?”
“No problem. Who knows, maybe next time we’ll make it a real date and really give them something to talk about.”
She stared.
“I’m kidding. I know you have a guy.”
“I did, but not anymore,” Gen admitted.
“No?”
“Irreconcilable differences.”
“Ah, I see. I’m sorry.”
“I am, too. But life moves on.”
When their food came, Rocky had nothing else to say about them as a couple but she did give Gen a wink. Gen knew by dinnertime everybody in town would know she and TC had had lunch together. Clay too probably, and speculation would spread like wildfire. As it stood they were already the center of attention in the increasingly crowded diner if all the curious eyes turned their way was any indication. This was so not a good idea.
But over the course of the meal, they had a good time. He told her about growing up in Oakland and all the jobs he’d had. She told him about growing up as the pampered ladylike daughter of an undertaker and that she still wore gloves to church. They talked about their favorite music groups of the ’60s and ’70s and Gen revealed that she’d never been to a live concert.
He stopped. “Never?”
“Ever. Why in the world would Earth Wind and Fire or anybody else play Henry Adams?”
“So you never got to hear Phil Bailey in his prime sing ‘Reasons’?”
She shook her head sadly.
“Well, the next time anyone of note comes within a hundred miles. Me. You. Going. Okay?”
She smiled. She knew he didn’t mean that but it was the thought that counted. “Okay.”
“And I’m not joking.”
His firm tone made her pause, study him, and ask, “Really?”
“We’re the first generation with its own sound track. Every baby boomer has to attend at least one concert before they die. That’s the law, you know.”
Gen was enjoying him so much. “Okay, Mr. That’s the Law. I’ll keep an eye on the newspapers.”
“Good.”
To their utter surprise “Reasons” sung by the aforementioned Philip Bailey filled the air and TC pointed a fry at her. “See, even the universe agrees.”
Enjoying the song, Gen had to admit he was right.
When lunch was over, they went to the desk to take care of the bill.
“How was everything, TC?” Mal asked, running Gen’s debit card.
“Best burger I’ve had in a while. I’ll be back.”
“Good.” He handed Gen her card and receipt.
Outside, TC said, “Thanks for lunch. Next time it’s on me.”
“Sounds good.” She put another star next to his name. Clay would never let her pay for their meals together. Ever. He took it as an affront to his male pride. TC, on the other hand, hadn’t balked. She liked that.
When they reached the car, he opened the back door and she said, “You know, after having lunch together it feels kind of silly for me to be riding in the back. Is it okay if I sit up front?”
“Whatever the lady wants.”
So she sat next to him and told herself she wasn’t nervous. But it was a lie. She felt like a teenager on a first date.
He put the key in the ignition and looked over at her. “I had a good time.”
“I did as well.”
Silence filled the car for a long few seconds and as it lengthened her heart started doing that crazy dance thing again. He finally turned the key and drove her home.
As she was getting out, she glanced up at the house and saw the windows on the curtains move. Marie was spying but Gen gave it little thought. “Thanks again for the ride to Franklin and for the good time at lunch.”
“You’re welcome. I’m holding you to the concert.”
“I will keep an eye out. I promise.”
“Good. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You, too.”
Gen went inside and before she could close the door behind her, Marie, now seated on the couch, asked coolly, “Who was that?”
Gen didn’t like her tone. “TC Barbour. Bernadine’s new driver.”
“Since when?”
“Since Nathan and Lou and the baby moved to Lawrence.”
“If he’s a driver, what were you doing riding in the front seat?”
Gen took off her coat and hung it in the closet. “Because we had lunch. And he’s a nice guy.”
?
??What’s Clay going to say about you riding around with Mr. Nice Guy?”
Gen held onto her temper. “If you would leave the house or talk to me occasionally you’d know that Clay and I are done.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s Clay.”
“So you’re throwing yourself at this new guy? You don’t know anything about men.”
“And you do?”
Marie’s lips tightened.
Gen didn’t want to throw Marie’s past relationships in her face but she wasn’t putting up with this third degree any longer. She’d been putting off telling Marie she was moving out because of the uncertainty of how she’d react, but at this point, Gen was too upset to care. “So you’ll know, I’m moving out.”
“When?”
“Probably by the middle of next week. I’m leasing a double-wide and putting it where my house used to be.”
Gen thought she saw pain cross Marie’s face before it was immediately replaced by the familiar mask of disinterest.
Marie shrugged. “Fine with me.”
Gen waited to see if she’d say anything more but when she didn’t, Gen walked by her and climbed the stairs to go to her room.
Alone, Marie closed her eyes against the painful emotions and told herself it didn’t matter. She was lying, of course, but it was easier to look upon Gen’s plans to move as yet another low blow to her life rather than deal with reality. She was terrified of growing old and being alone and she resented Gen’s newly found strength and independence. How dare you do this to me! she wanted to scream up the stairs. How dare you! Not that she’d given her old friend much choice. Having been distant and uncommunicative probably killed their friendship, but weren’t friends supposed to stick together through thick and thin, no matter what? When Gen finally saw the light and walked out on Riley who’d taken her in? Who’d taken her to Las Vegas for the first time? Who’d stood by her when her home was razed, and had her back when Riley’s embezzling came to light? She’d supported Genevieve when nobody else had and this is how Gen repaid her. I’m moving out. Marie knew laying all this at Gen’s door wasn’t right, nor was any of it her fault, but it was easier than looking in the mirror and facing the truth that this was the bed she’d made.
CHAPTER
6
As Eli drove home with Crystal riding shotgun, he asked her, “Do you think we’re ever going to hear back about the art contest?”