Stealing Taffy

  He motioned for her to come in. “Yes?”

  “Well, I thought you should know that Miss Candy Carmichael over at the bakery just called. She wanted to remind you that dessert deliveries are set to start next Saturday, the day of her grand opening.”

  Miller grabbed his hankie again, sopping up the sweat on his forehead. That news would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic—here he was trying to lose another forty pounds and that stupid bimbo was gleefully reminding him that the pies and cakes and sticky buns were on their way!

  He hated her.

  “And you’re doing so well with your diet!” His secretary gave him a look of pity. “I know that cupcakes are a particular weakness of yours. I’ll lock them in the pantry when they’re delivered on Wednesdays.”

  He felt his blood pound. “I’m perfectly capable of staying away from the cupcakes, Louellen.”

  She frowned and leaned forward conspiratorially. “But what about that time I found you in the supply closet with a whole package of fudge-frosted Piggly Wiggly cup—”

  “Go!” He began shuffling random papers around on his desktop in order to look busy. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

  The middle of a nervous breakdown.

  * * *

  Tanyalee pulled Aunt Viv’s unapologetically pink barge of a car into the driveway, cut the engine, and checked her powder and blush in the rearview mirror. True, she was only arriving home to the place she’d left that same morning, but she was coming home with intent.

  At this time of day, Granddaddy Garland would be sitting on the back porch swing, enjoying his empty pipe, and Aunt Viv would be busy preparing dinner, which would probably be pot roast, since today was Thursday.

  It was as perfect as a time could get. So why was she hesitating?

  Tanyalee gripped her hands on the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. I am here to make amends. I acknowledge that I stole checks from you, hacked into your online banking account, and forged your name as a cosigner on that loan. I know you worked hard all your life for what you have and you’ve never been anything but kind to me and—

  Practice might make perfect, but perfection wasn’t the point, was it? Her only job today was to take responsibility for some of the worst behavior of her life, and it didn’t matter how pretty the words sounded—it only mattered that she was honest and thorough.

  Like she had done all through her childhood, Tanyalee took the brick path that led from the drive, around the side yard, and to the back of the house. She didn’t want Viv to spot her walking past the kitchen—she wanted to talk with Garland alone.

  Held like an offering in both her hands was a white cardboard box with the words CANDY PANTS BAKERY imprinted across the top in sparkly golden script. Though the grand opening was still a several days away, Candy had been experimenting with recipes and had happily shared the sweet results of her work.

  She stopped when she reached the end of the walk, poking her head around the corner. Just as the front porch was Viv’s spot, the back porch of the house on Willamette was long ago claimed by Garland. It was a shady haven protected from the slant of the evening sun by a pair of old sycamores. Where the front porch was always washed clean and adorned with carefully arranged flowerpots, wicker, and chintz pillows, Garland had made sure his domain stayed the way he liked it—shabby and comfortable. Fishing poles leaned against the clapboards. A frayed braided rug lay beneath a porch swing whose chain needed oiling. Garland sat on the wooden slats with a faraway look in his eyes. The ceiling fan whirred in a lazy spin directly over his head and his unlit pipe rested between his lips. He had one foot cocked on the old rug to keep the swing in easy motion.

  Creak, creak.

  Oh, Lord-ee, I can’t do this. Not this.

  Except she owed it to him. He’d been father, mother, teacher, and best friend to her and Cheri when their parents died. Because Tanyalee was only five when they were killed, she barely remembered her father, Garland’s son Loyal Newberry. So it was Garland she thought of when people brought up the topic of their dads. It was Garland’s voice and Garland’s scent—part newsprint ink, part pipe tobacco—that came to mind when she thought of home.

  He spotted her. “Hey there, little girl!” A smile creased his dear old face and he placed his pipe on the side table. “What you doin’ standing there like comp’ny on the wrong day?”

  Tanyalee opened her mouth. I am here to make amends. Except what came out was a strangled sob. “Granddaddy! I’m—I’m so sorry!”

  Garland was out of the swing as fast as his creaky body would allow, and down on the lawn with her in an instant. He took the bakery box out of her dangerously unsteady hands and put one arm around her shaking shoulders. “Come on, now.”

  She found herself urged into the porch swing with him, as if she were still eleven years old and upset about stupid Buddy McGreevy asking her best friend, Mimi Grayson, to the Bigler Volunteer Fire Department Carnival.

  The habit of crying on Garland’s shoulder had ended in middle school, after which Tanyalee had discovered that boys would do anything she asked, even Buddy McGreevy, in the end. That brawny shoulder of her childhood had become thin and bony over the years, but it seemed to be holding up just fine, even as she dumped a truckload of tears and guilt and sorrow onto it. It took a few long minutes, but her pent-up emotions eventually ran their course. She peeled her wet face off his soaked shirt with a final sniffle. So much for perfect powder and blush!

  He handed her his handkerchief. Tanyalee took it thankfully and pressed it to her hot face, inhaling his reassuring scent, now with a hint of peppermint gum and Old Spice aftershave.

  They sat in silence while the shadows grew long on the grass and the hazy air took on a cooling breeze that forewarned the coming of fall. Garland kept the swing moving in a peaceful rhythm that had soothed Southern souls for a century or more.

  “Now, I’m suspecting you have things to say, little girl, but first I think we should address a more important topic. What’s in this fine-looking box of yours?”

  Tanyalee looked up to see Garland smiling at her with a gleam in his eye, pointing to the box he’d placed on the side table. “Pie,” she told him. “Candy makes a real nice peach pie. Double crust and all.”

  At once, Garland threw back his head. “Viv!”

  Aunt Viv popped out through the screen door with a speed that made it obvious she’d been standing just out of sight all along. She plunked her fists on her sturdy hips and glared at Tanyalee. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Tanyalee Marie Newberry, bringing that sugar poison into this house! You know your granddaddy has the diabetes!”

  “Sorry.” She winked at Aunt Viv conspiratorially, then turned back to Garland. “It’s a real shame, though, considering that it’s fresh out of Candy’s oven and she made it up special for you.”

  Aunt Viv sighed dramatically, then seized the box with a smile. “Fine. I guess one little bit won’t kill him.”

  Granddaddy grinned. “I tell you what, I’m about ready to sell my soul for a piece of real dessert. I can’t stand that fake stuff you’re always trying to pawn off on me.”

  Viv rolled her eyes and headed back to the kitchen, box in hand. Her irritated muttering grew inaudible as she headed to the kitchen. “A man as smart as you should be more willing to change his eating habits…”

  Tanyalee looked into her grandfather’s kind face and took a deep breath. “Thank you for letting me cry like that.”

  He reached an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight again. They rocked for a few moments in silence.

  As wonderful as it felt to take comfort in her granddaddy’s arms like a little girl, Tanyalee was a grown woman determined to face her worst enemy—her past—and it was time to make amends.

  She straightened in the swing, turning slightly to face him. “Granddaddy Garland, I came to make—”

  He waved a hand. “You don’t have to. You just apologize
d not ten minutes ago, and we both know what you were apologizing for. Why don’t we just sit here and enjoy the evening?”

  It was tempting. Technically, she was off the hook.

  But that wasn’t how it worked. Avoidance was a slippery slope, and she was bound and determined not to go down that incline again. She shook her head. “No, sir. You sent me to rehab. I learned a lot while I was there, including how not to slide away from being accountable for my actions. It’s real important to say things out loud, Granddaddy. It makes them real, and when they’re real, they can be dealt with. But not before.”

  He looked down at the braided rug and nodded slowly. “All right then. Say your piece.”

  She apologized for it all. It took a while to list every single thing she had ever done to harm Garland Newberry, from the fraudulent loan to the forged checks to the day she hacked into his online bank account. Then there was the missing twenties from his wallet during her teen years, all the way down to the pocket change she had stolen out of the Waterford crystal dish on his bedroom bureau when she was nine years old. She also apologized for being an angry, manipulative, spoiled little brat and for the incessant jealous arguing with Cheri that continued until the day her older sister left for college. She apologized for trying to turn Aunt Viv and Granddaddy against her sister every opportunity she had.

  He remained quiet, keeping the swing in motion and occasionally glancing her way, but he let her talk without interruption. Eventually, it was done.

  At some point during her speech, Tanyalee had started to cry again. Not sobs this time, just good clean tears leaking down her cheeks, washing her free of the burden of dishonesty. She dabbed at her face with Garland’s hankie, now wrinkled and stained. “My word, this thing has had a day of it.” She handed it back to him with a small smile. “I hope that you can forgive me, Granddaddy Garland. I love you so much.”

  He took the hankie and solemnly folded it and placed it in his shirt pocket. “Little girl—Tanyalee—I always forgave you. I loved you right through all those things and I’ve always understood where it came from. You were just five years old when you lost your mama and daddy and home. You had the rug ripped from under you, and nothing about your world seemed secure or safe again.” Granddaddy Garland shook his head, looking at her with wonder in his gaze. “You were always a determined and focused little thing, and it surely is rewarding to see you using those skills for doing what’s right. I’ll be real curious to see how you decide to use your gifts moving forward, Tanyalee. Real curious, indeed.”

  She blinked, taken slightly aback. Something Dr. Leslie used to talk about now popped into her head. What if some of her character flaws were actually tools—tools she could choose to use for good or for bad? And what if her possibilities were wide open? What if she could do anything she wanted with her determination and focus?

  Garland shifted in the swing. Tanyalee realized with surprise that he seemed ill at ease.

  “Did I upset you, bringing all that up, Granddaddy Garland?”

  He let out a rough sigh. “Oh no, honey. I thought that was real brave of you just now. Maybe you’re onto something with this amends thing.”

  The porch swing creaked. While she waited for Granddaddy to continue, she noticed how light she felt, how the peace was spreading like warm butter, filling in the cracks she’d made in her soul with lies and tricks. It dawned on her that nothing would ever take away the terrible things she’d done, and getting them out in the open could never turn them into something else. But it just might turn her into someone new.

  “If you’ve got something on your mind, Granddaddy Garland, I’m prepared to accept the consequences of all my actions.”

  He let out a breath and looked right at her. She was shocked to see that his eyes were wet. “Tanyalee, now it’s my turn to make amends to you.”

  She couldn’t help it. Her jaw dropped right open. Viv would have said she was bound to catch flies. “But what for?”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his grizzled neck. “Well, first of all, I did turn you over to the authorities for forging my signature on that loan application.”

  True—and she’d felt betrayed at the time, which was just silly considering what she’d been up to. However, she could tell Garland wasn’t finished, so she just nodded.

  “And then I let the Bugle publish your arrest in the police blotter. I could have held it back and nobody at the paper would have questioned me, but I sent it on through.”

  Tanyalee bit her bottom lip, fighting a swell of emotion racing through her. “Well, now … yes, that was real painful, I’ll admit.” She took his hand in hers. “But you wouldn’t have been faced with that decision if I hadn’t committed a crime in the first place. Same for turning me in.”

  “But I’ve put you in a bad position, honey. You’ll be carrying around that felony on your record for the rest of your life.”

  She stroked the bluish veins on the back of his hand and tried to choose her words carefully. “That is not your fault, Granddaddy. That’s my burden. Who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t have been willing to change if you hadn’t filed those charges and printed my name. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough to stop myself.”

  “Oh now, you’re plenty strong.” Granddaddy’s wrinkled cheeks expanded with his smile. “You’re strong and smart and beautiful, but more than that, you’re a Newberry woman, and there’s nothing on this earth as resourceful and determined as a Newberry woman.” He squeezed her hand tight. “I think it’s time for you to claim that. Go to college if you want, honey. See some more of the world. I’ll help you get on your feet in whatever way you need.”

  The shock had barely registered with Tanyalee when Viv’s voice blared out through the screen door, again with suspicious timing. “Come on, now. Y’all don’t expect me to eat this pot roast and peach pie all by my lonesome, do you?”

  Chapter 16

  Fern pounded her pencil eraser into the open notebook. “Eight people?” She glanced up at Tanyalee, her eyebrows scrunched together. “How the hell’re we supposed to find eight people in this town who can bowl?”

  “Please do not curse in the bakery, Fern.” Tanyalee continued to trifold the newly printed Candy Pants menus, using a straight edge for guidance, because nothing would say “tacky” like an uneven fold on opening day. “Besides, we only need six people in addition to the two of us, and I hear Gladys is a very good bowler.”

  “Hallelujah! We’ve got an eighty-year-old in high heels, a twelve-year-old orphan, and Hillbilly Barbie. Are we gonna kick ass, or what?”

  Tanyalee set aside the ruler, tidied up her stack of menus, and gave Fern an opportunity to apologize. She waited patiently.

  “Sorry for the hillbilly thing.”

  “Thankyousoverymuch.”

  Tanyalee pressed her fingertips into the bridge of her nose and tried to hear herself think. It was downright deafening in the unfinished restaurant that afternoon. Power drills buzzed. Electricians shouted at each other. Aluminum ladders banged around as the painters finished touching up the crown molding in the dining area. Opening day was that Saturday, and Tanyalee had been working full-time for the last week. She had to admit that she’d felt a part of something special helping Candy to make her dream a reality. Someday she hoped she would do the same for herself.

  “Well, now, Fern, as far as the bowling team goes, maybe we need to think out of the box.”

  Fern dropped her pencil in defeat. “Outa the box, under the box … I still don’t see how the hell we’re going to find people for a stupid bowl-a-thon that’s only a week away!” Fern stopped and tipped her head. “Hey, how about your sister and her husband?”

  A rush of panic went through Tanyalee’s body, hot and quick. It must have shown on her face because Fern squinted at her.

  “You okay?”

  “What a silly question! Of course I am. Unfortunately, I do not believe Cheri and J.J. are experienced bowlers.”

  How could she tell Fern that she would
n’t even know if she had a sister until the end of that evening? She was to meet Cheri at six P.M. at the lake house for a glass of tea and a chat. J.J. would be working late so they would have some privacy, Cheri had said. Tanyalee knew what that statement really meant: J.J. would stay as far away as humanly possible while Tanyalee was around.

  Fern leaned closer and peered at her. “You look like you just got a hold of some bad mayonnaise or something.”

  Tanyalee managed to laugh. Condiments surely were not to blame, since she’d been so anxious that she’d barely eaten in two days. “How about Mrs. Stockslager? Is Bitsy already on a team?”

  Fern sighed. “She can’t be on a team because she’s in charge of the whole event. That would be picking favorites.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.”

  “How about your hottie DEA agent boyfriend?”

  Tanyalee’s mouth fell open. “I do not have a boyfriend!”

  Fern rolled her eyes. “Then who’s been calling you nonstop for the whole week? I swear, at this point I think you either need to have the dude arrested or tell him to get lost and put him out of his misery. Just sayin’.”

  “Fern Bisbee!” Tanyalee stood from the café table and gathered her supplies, trying to pull herself together. Fern had exaggerated. Dante called her almost every afternoon, yet on the rare occasions he left a message it was always the same: “Hope you’re doing well. I’m thinking of you.” Tanyalee supposed he was being sweet and supportive—while making sure she knew he was waiting—but no matter how much of a gentleman Dante Cabrera was, she was not ready to face him.

  “Let’s go back to the office and see what else Candy needs.” Tanyalee motioned for Fern to gather her things and join her. “She might want us to post some more flyers around town.”

  In the hallway between the kitchen and office area, Fern touched her arm. “Honestly, I don’t care a lick if that man’s your boyfriend. Just find out if he can bowl.”

  * * *