Heart of Gold (23 page)

“Hey,” she said softly.

“I'm sorry.”

Silence.

Feeling awkward, he plunged ahead. “I had a talk with Mom and Dad, and they set me straight on some things.”

“Such as?”

So he told her. Everything. Especially the parts about his dad having the same anxieties and fears when he married Reg's beautiful mom.

Roni responded with, “So this Garland Panic, as Charlie calls this craziness, is hereditary? Is that what you're telling me?”

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

“It's good to hear you laughing again, Reg.”

“It's good to be laughing together.”

For the next two hours they talked about big things like Zoey's gold and how she was healing, and even bigger things such as how much their lives together meant. “I do love you, Roni.”

“Ditto. I'm just glad you figured it out. So when are you coming home?”

He explained how he'd been drafted for thirty days. “That okay?”

“Tell your daddy, don't make me come down there and sing, ‘Let My People Go.' ”

They laughed, and she said sincerely, “No, it's okay. Habitat is doing real good work. As long as I know you're heading home eventually, I can handle you being gone for a month. Zoey's been cleared to go back to school, so Jason's flying in tomorrow. Told him I'll only be working while she's in school.”

“That's a good plan.”

“You sure?”

“I'll probably never be happy sharing you, but I'll deal with it. I need to get on Team Roni.”

“Yes, you do.”

He glanced at the clock. “God, look at the time.” It was nearly one in the morning.

“It is kinda late for me to be talking to a boy on the phone.”

“Then go to bed. I'll call Zoey in the morning, early, and let her know I'm coming home.”

“She'll like that. And I told her no matter the circumstances, her going back into foster care wasn't happening.”

“That broke my heart.”

“Mine, too. To offer herself up that way . . . She has a heart of gold. And a head hard as concrete.”

He chuckled. “Good night.”

“ 'Night, Reg. Glad you're better.”

“Me, too.”

Silence.

“Are you going to hang up?” he asked. In truth he could talk to her until sunrise.

“You're supposed to hang up first. You're the boy.”

“Is that some kind of rule?”

“Yeah. You never talked to a girl on the phone at night?”

“Not really.”

“Well, the boy should hang up first.”

“How about we do it together. On the count of three.”

He counted down, but they didn't follow through. Laughing, they wound up talking for another hour. Finally he said, “ 'Night, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

A content Reg turned over, and for the first time in what felt like months drifted off and slept like a baby.

Back in Henry Adams, a thoughtful Roni put her phone down and lay back against the pillows. Talking with him had been a good thing, but had he really put his demons to rest? She dearly hoped so, but time would tell. Time would also tell how long it would take her to forget all the pain she'd shouldered over this. It wasn't realistic to believe his saying sorry magically negated everything—life wasn't like the movies. Yes, she loved him and she wanted him home with every breath she took because the forgiving part was easy. It was the forgetting part that was the fly in the ointment. Certain it would fade eventually, she hoped it would be sooner than later—but it was there, and she'd be lying to herself to deny it. Content with that inner honesty, she burrowed into the bedding and let sleep take her away.

C H A P T E R

18

A
t six
A
.
M
., Bernadine drove to the store to pick up her sister. She hoped the girl hadn't managed to get herself fired, because with her crappy attitude, it was a definite possibility. There were three people waiting outside when she pulled up, two women and a man. They were talking—one smoking—and she wondered if they were waiting for their rides home as well. Diane was standing a short distance away, and she looked miserable. The carefully applied makeup was now streaky and faded. Her high-gloss lipstick was gone. The eyes she turned Bernadine's way appeared defeated and old. She got in the truck, strapped herself into the belt, and leaned back against the seat.

“How'd it go?” Bernadine asked quietly.

“Hard. Awful. Humiliating. Since I'm low man on the totem pole, I had to clean the toilets.” The last word came out as a whisper, and there were tears in her eyes. “A public toilet.”

In spite of their battling, Bernadine felt her pain.

“How did I get here, Bernadine?” she asked, sounding genuine for the very first time.

“Life, sis. It's called life, and we can either cry and wallow, or lace on the gloves and start punching back.”

“This is so not where I'd expected to be at my age.” She wiped at her eyes.

“We plan, and God laughs.”

“Then He's probably in hysterics.”

“Was the crew kind to you?”

“Not really. They seemed to get a big kick out of the look on my face when the supervisor told me what I'd be doing.”

Bernadine wondered if Diane's attitude had anything to do with that.
More than likely
, said the voice in her head.

“How am I going to do this day after day?” she asked. “One of the women said she'd been mopping floors for ten years. Ten years! Is that my future?”

“It depends on you.” Bernadine was pleased to hear her starting to give some serious thought to her future. “And only you.”

“This is all Harmon's fault.”

Back to denial. “Is it?”

“Yes! If he hadn't left me . . .”

“But he did leave. You can't change that, and blaming him and being angry isn't going to put clothes on your back or food on your table. Other women have gone on alone, and so can you. You don't have a choice.” Bernadine looked her way and said as kindly as she could manage, “Di, the part of your life with Harmon is over, the end. It's time to start writing a new chapter.”

“But I don't know how.”

“Then look around, see how other women have done it. Some used a crappy job as a stepping stone to a better one. Some went back to school. You have options, but yes, you will be still cleaning toilets in ten years if you just throw in the towel. Every day is a gift—start unwrapping them.”

Diane didn't respond, but she didn't throw back a nasty retort either, which made Bernadine think the advice had hit home. That gave her hope. “When we get home, get some rest and we'll go look for a car later on this afternoon.”

“Okay,” Diane said in a tiny voice. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

When she got to her office, she poured her coffee and booted up the laptop, but her sister was still on her mind. The job seemed to be having a sobering effect on all the craziness, and she wondered if it might be time to put in a call to Harmon Jr. and let him know how his mom was faring. If having to clean toilets and wield a mop could instill a measure of growth maybe it could also serve to bring her closer to her children. As it stood now, Diane would be facing her golden years estranged from them, alone. Not a good thing, but she decided to hold off on calling him for now. She'd wait and see how her first week on the job played out and then make her decision.

In the meantime there was work to do, so she sat with her cup and opened up the file that contained the architect's mock-up of the strip mall that could be built on the site of the old Henry Adams Hotel. Although the building was a complete wreck, she hated the idea of tearing down the only original building still standing in town.

She beeped Lily on the intercom. “Hey, can you come in a minute and let me run something by you?”

“Sure.”

When she entered, Lily asked, “What's up?”

“Is there any way we can restore the old hotel?”

“Restore, as in how?”

“Rebuild it so it can be viable again?” She had Lily come over and take a look at the architect's drawings.

Lily frowned. “A strip mall. I'm not a big fan of those.”

“Neither am I. But I like the idea of the businesses, so I'm thinking we put them inside the hotel.”

“Like a loft kind of place?”

“Yeah, maybe. I just hate to demolish the only original Henry Adams building that we have.”

“That is kind of a shame, but it's little more than rubble now, sis.”

“Can we maybe restore the outside facade? Don't we have pictures somewhere of what it looked like?”

“I'm sure Tamar has some in the archives.”

“Good morning,” came a curt voice.

In the doorway stood Astrid Wiggins. Bernadine had told Lily about their grocery store encounter, so neither of them were pleased by her presence. An annoyed Bernadine asked, “What can I do for you, Ms. Wiggins?”

“I need to speak with you. Privately.”

Lily backed away from the desk. “I'll leave you two alone.”

Once Lily was gone, Bernadine asked, “What's this about?”

“I'm here to let you know I'll be running for mayor in the next election. My husband has been ineffective. I've asked him not to run again.”

Bernadine didn't see what this had to do with her, but . . . “Okay, thanks for the information. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. When I'm elected, I'm going to do everything I can to make your life miserable. Every time you want to build something, I'm going to challenge you in court. I'm going to demand soil tests, throw roadblocks in front of your permits—whatever it takes.”

Bernadine looked her up and down. “Does Franklin have the money for that?”

Astrid went still.

“I'm only asking because hiring lawyers for what you have in mind is very expensive, especially firms with enough clout to take on the Class A ones I have on retainer. And how will your residents react when they learn you're using their hard-earned tax dollars to fund your petty little vendetta?”

Astrid's lips tightened, and she looked away.

Bernadine gentled her voice. “You can't win this. It would be better for both towns if we worked together.”

“I'm not working with you.”

“Fine. Bring it on, but don't be surprised when I bury you.”

Astrid scoffed. “You wish. I'm already looking into ways to keep you from building that pool.”

“The one I'm naming for you?”

Her eyes widened. “Don't you dare!”

Bernadine chuckled softly. “Oh, I dare, honey. And then maybe I'll get one of your residents to start a petition drive to have us annex Franklin. You want to play hardball, I have a very large bat.”

Astrid's face went red with fury.

“There's an old saying that a tigress doesn't flinch when scratched by a kitten. Guess which one I am? Now go home. I have work to do.”

For a moment Astrid stood there, silently spitting fire and brimstone from every cell in her body, but they both knew her only recourse was to comply.

“This isn't over.”

“If you say so.”

Astrid stormed out. Bernadine rolled her eyes and wondered how much it might cost to install a moat around the Power Plant and stock it with alligators that dined only on people named Wiggins.

Lily stuck her head in the door. “What did Secretariat want?”

Bernadine laughed. “I thought it was Seabiscuit.”

“That too, along with a whole lot of other inappropriate names.”

Bernadine filled her in.

“Really?” Lily replied in a tone filled with sarcasm. “She came here to throw down a gauntlet—she'd better hope it doesn't bounce back up and put her eye out. Wonder how Squirrel Head reacted to being told he wouldn't be running for reelection?”

“Don't know. Don't care.” Well maybe she did, just a little. Had he meekly said, “Yes, dear,” or pitched a fit?

“Anyway, I talked with Tamar. I'm going to make a run out to her place to get some photos of the hotel. Should be back shortly.”

“Okay. Thanks, Lil.”

On the heels of Lily's departure, Tina Craig called to answer the questions surrounding Zoey's gold. “Are you sure?” Bernadine asked.

“Positive. Checked with the IRS. When Mr. Patterson came into possession of that gold, it became his property. With no Patterson relatives around to step in front of Zoey's claim, the gold's hers. And I checked the value. The coins are worth anywhere from a bit over eight hundred to fifteen hundred bucks—apiece. Miss Zoey is a very wealthy girl.”

“Wow.”

“Exactly. She and her mom can decide what they want to do with them, but they will owe taxes no matter what. Let me know if they want to put them up for auction. Collectors will lose their minds if those coins come up for sale.”

“Okay, Tina. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Give Zoey my best.”

“Will do.”

With the call ended, Bernadine sat back amazed. She'd hoped Zoey would be able to keep the stash, and now she had confirmation. She sent Roni a text to let her know.

Over at the studio an elated Roni turned to her manager, Jason West. “She's going to be able to keep the gold!”

“Wow. How much do you think it's worth?”

“Zoey looked on the Net and said coins like hers were going for as high as a grand.”

“She's going to be one rich little mama.”

Ronnie chuckled. “This day can't get any better. Between this and talking to Reggie last night, I think I'm in heaven.”

“How is he?”

“Better. He's worked out his issues and will be home after he helps his dad and brother with some houses they're building for Habit for Humanity.”