Mystic Park (22 page)

Foster rose. “I look forward to hearing from you and Quincy Monday.”

“Absolutely.” She stood from the table, then shook Foster's hand. “Take care, Foster. Thanks again for your time.”

She was looking forward to hearing from Quincy tonight. He had a lot of explaining to do.

CHAPTER 26

Doreen secured the café's kitchen Thursday afternoon, then adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. After three years, she still couldn't determine which was the busiest day of the week—Friday or Saturday. She turned, intending to search for Megan to wish her friend and boss a good evening. She hesitated when she noticed Nessa walking toward her.

“I'm sorry, Nessa, the café's closed.” Doreen adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder.

“I'm not here for a meal, Doreen.” The town council president dug into her oversized navy leather purse. She pulled out a familiar ivory linen envelope. “What's this about?”

Doreen recognized the stationery at a glance. “It's an invitation to my wedding.”

“I know that.” Nessa looked from the envelope to Doreen. “Why did you send this to me?”

Doreen checked the bronze Movado wristwatch Ean had bought for her several Christmases ago. It was just after three o'clock. In the distance, she heard the faint sounds of conversation and laughter from the bookstore customers. They were mostly retirees and TFU students at this time of the day.

“I'm getting married June twentieth, Nessa. You're welcome to attend both the wedding and reception if you'd like—or not.” She walked past Nessa, intending to keep going. But Nessa's next words stopped her.

“Are you that desperate for gifts that you'd invite your enemies to your wedding?”

Doreen stiffened. She faced Nessa. “I hadn't realized we were enemies.”

“Maybe ‘enemy' is too strong of a term.” Nessa put the envelope back into her purse. “But we aren't friends. So why did you invite me to your wedding?”

“Why not?”

“Is it really that easy for you?” Nessa's dark eyes reflected her puzzlement and frustration.

“Why are you making it so hard?” Doreen searched Nessa's thin brown features. “You make everything hard. Vaughn wanted to perform his musical in the community center. You rejected his request without discussing it with members of the council or me.”

“According to our bylaws, I'm not required to discuss decisions on nonessential matters with you.”

“That's just one example.” Doreen gripped her purse strap, using it to hold on to her temper. “Why are you trying to alienate me on even the smallest of matters? Wouldn't it be easier for us to get along?”

Nessa smirked. “Who told you that being mayor, even of a small town like ours, was supposed to be easy?”

And with that single question, Nessa Linden in all her spiteful glory was back.

“I know we're not friends and you never intend us to become closer. But I sent you an invitation to my wedding anyway because one of us should at least try to make an effort.”

“So you think you're a better person than me?” Nessa's eyebrows stretched up her forehead.

“Don't twist my words.” Doreen gestured toward Nessa's oversized navy purse, which carried the wedding invitation. “Come or don't come. It's up to you. I don't have an ulterior motive for inviting you.”

Once again Doreen turned to walk away and once again Nessa's words stopped her.

“You're always so charming and likable.” Nessa didn't make that sound like a compliment. “The voice of reason for the winning side of a community issue.”

“Is that the way you see me?” Doreen gave Nessa a wide-eyed stare.

“Yes, and so do a lot of other people.” Nessa's response was vicious.

“Thanks.” Doreen smiled and walked away.

There wasn't anything she could do about Nessa's or anyone else's perception of her. She could only be true to herself—which meant admitting at least to herself that she was enjoying Nessa's confusion over her wedding invitation.

 

 

Doreen was still smiling miles later as she drove home from Ms. Helen's house Thursday afternoon. Although Benita was staying with the elderly woman, Doreen continued to stop by Ms. Helen's home every day around four
P.M
. She enjoyed the former university professor's company. And, as a bonus, today Benita had made a bid on Doreen's former house. If all went well, soon Doreen wouldn't have to worry about the house's maintenance. Great news, indeed.

Singing along with the radio, Doreen pulled her Honda Civic into the garage of the home she now shared with Alonzo. She collected her purse before climbing from the car and walking toward the mailbox. That's when she noticed Leonard waiting for her at the bottom of the driveway.

“You've already moved in with him?” Leonard sounded as though he'd been betrayed.

“What are you doing here?” Doreen stopped halfway between her garage and the mailbox.

She studied Leonard as he scanned the two-story white and black colonial-style home behind her. The high school math teacher and football coach had lost weight. His blue denims and black long-sleeved jersey were loose on his frame.

Leonard returned his attention to her. “Are you really going to marry him?”

“Yes, I am. And I want you to leave.” Doreen didn't want Leonard to be here when Alonzo arrived home. She could imagine the sheriff and the high school teacher getting into an altercation, news of which would spread like wildfire from Alonzo's neighbors to the entire town.

“Dorie, I need to talk to you. Let's go inside.” Leonard gestured toward the front steps.

Had he lost his mind? “I'm not letting you in. Go home, Leo.”

Leonard expelled an irritated breath. “How well do you know Alonzo?”

“Leo, you broke up with me—”

“Is that what all of this is about?” He smiled. “I'll take you back, Dorie.”

“I'm not interested in a relationship with you.” Doreen beat back her own annoyance. “You broke up with me because I wanted to be mayor. You wanted me to choose between my dreams and yours. That's not the kind of relationship I need.”

“But
Alonzo
gives you what you need?” Leonard sneered.

“Yes, he does. I can depend on him in a way I can't depend on you.”

“He'd been out of your life for more than forty years.” Leonard gave her a sly look. “What was he doing all that time?”

“The same thing we were all doing, working, growing, planning for the future.” Doreen checked up and down the street.

How many neighbors were in their homes, enjoying the show? Most people were still at work, but she was certain one or two neighbors were home. After all, she was. Doreen looked across the street. Had a curtain moved in the window or was she being paranoid?

She didn't need this type of attention. She could already hear Nessa's lecture on a proper mayor's public persona. And how would this affect Alonzo? But there was no way she was letting Leonard into their home. Fortunately, they were the only ones outside, which was surprising. It was a beautiful late spring afternoon. Doreen could feel the advent of summer.

“What do you know about Alonzo, specifically during those years he was away?” Leonard's question reclaimed her attention.

Alonzo's nightmares and his odd, moody behavior flashed across her mind. Doreen slapped the memories away and the doubt that came with them. “Alonzo hadn't been absent the entire time. He returned to Trinity Falls often to visit his family and friends. Paul and I saw him several times a year.”

“And what did he share about his life?”

“What are you implying?”

Leonard inclined his head toward the home behind her. “Let's go inside and talk.”

“About what?” Doreen crossed her arms. “What can you possibly have to tell me about my fiancé?”

A flash of anger moved over Leonard's soft brown features. “He's not good enough for you.”

“What?” The accusation took her by surprise. Coming from Leonard, it shouldn't have.

“I would've married you.”

“And that would have been a mistake.”

“Marrying Alonzo isn't?”

“Of course not.” It was a struggle to control her voice. “Alonzo encourages me to be the person I want to be. You tried to make me into the person you want me to be.”

“You make it sound as though I forced you to do things you didn't want to do.”

Doreen sighed. She was suddenly tired of everything. She was tired of Leonard trying to convince her to reconcile with him. She was tired of Nessa trying to cause conflicts where none existed. She just wanted Leonard to leave so she could have some time alone before Alonzo came home.

“We're just not right for each other, Leo.” She spoke as gently as she could. “I'm going to marry Alonzo. You have to accept that.”

Leonard's dark eyes studied her for silent moments. “I never stopped loving you.”

She felt nothing. “I'm in love with Alonzo. It's time you moved on.”

Doreen walked back into the garage. She pressed the power button to lower the door, shutting out Leonard. Alonzo could bring in the mail later. For now, she just needed to sit and unwind. Between Nessa and Leonard, she'd had enough drama for the day.

CHAPTER 27

“Benita, it's Tommy Poole.” The Los Angeles theater producer sounded as though he'd just introduced himself to a throng of giddy tweens.

Benita's heart had jumped when Tommy's name had appeared on her cellular phone's caller identification. She hadn't expected to hear from him this quickly. She took a deep, calming breath, drawing in the scents of the broiled salmon and mixed vegetables she was making for her great-aunt's Thursday dinner.

“Hi, Tommy. Have you read the script I sent you?” Benita braced her hips against the nearby kitchen counter to support her suddenly shaky knees.
Why am I so nervous? I don't have anything to lose, whether or not Tommy's interested in Vaughn's musical.

She pictured her business acquaintance seated behind his glass and sterling silver desk in his company's fifth-floor office suite in Beverly Hills. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been wearing deceptively casual but undoubtedly expensive tan khakis and a pale pink polo shirt. His shock of white hair had been cut in an asymmetrical style that had given his ice blue eyes an unnecessary emphasis. She'd wondered from time to time how many facelifts he'd had to achieve that near-plastic expression.

“Where did you get this script?” Soft music played in the background as though Tommy was listening to a compact disk on his office sound system.

“I told you. A friend wrote it.” Benita glanced at the clock suspended from the kitchen wall. It was almost five
P.M
., which mean it was coming up on two o'clock in Beverly Hills.

“A friend from Trident Falls?” Tommy's tone was dubious.

“
Trinity
Falls, yes.” Why couldn't her L.A. associates remember the name of her hometown? “Why are you asking?”

As she checked on the salmon and vegetables, Benita pictured the area surrounding Tommy's office. She envisioned the palm trees rising against cloudless blue skies, exclusive shops on Rodeo Drive, the congested sidewalks along Sunset Boulevard, and the contrasting architecture that lined Melrose Avenue. It was a galaxy away from Trinity Falls.

“I'm just surprised that something of such high quality came out of that town.” The producer chuckled.

Benita's back stiffened.
That town?
“I'm from this town, Tommy. What are you trying to say?”

“Yes, well, you're not there anymore, are you, darling?” His tone was dismissive.

Benita shrugged off her irritation and crossed to sit at the table. “So you like the script?”

“It's brilliant.” Tommy's enthusiasm almost made up for his thoughtless words. Almost. “The writing is clever and unique. The story's original. The pacing is great and it has good tension. I'm interested in producing it.”

“Wonderful.” Benita's senses heightened with the smell of a new deal.

She'd known Vaughn's talent would attract power players in the theater world who were looking for the next new voice. Perhaps his work would also appeal to movie producers. Benita made a mental note to investigate that.

“Although we may need a few character adjustments.” Tommy's comment brought Benita's imaginary celebration to a halt.

“What kind of adjustments?”
Keep an open mind, Benita.

“The dialogue will need to change.” Tommy yawned as though the discussion barely held his interest. “If these characters are poor people from a poor country, their dialogue should be more . . . authentic.”

Was that code for ‘illiterate'? “What makes you think these characters are poor? The hero and his neighbor are farmers. But from the brief description Vaughn gives us, they're not struggling.”

“That's the other thing. They should be struggling. We should feel their desperation.” Tommy's arrogance was on full display.

Benita rose and counted to ten. She paced around the kitchen table. “I think you're focusing on the wrong things. This musical is a tribute to the myths and folklore of the author's parents' culture. That's the only aspect of the characters that's important to the storytelling.”

“But we don't want viewers to question the credibility of the story.”

Benita almost burst out laughing. “People who attend this play will have to suspend their disbelief. You do realize water nymphs and fairies don't exist, right?”

When they'd first met, Benita had been in awe of Tommy Poole. The older man had seemed so wise and worldly to the young and inexperienced woman Benita had been. But over time, Tommy's sheen had tarnished. The opinions and perspectives he sometimes voiced were almost criminally biased. Today especially, she wasn't afraid to speak her mind to him. Maybe it was the two months she'd spent in Trinity Falls during this visit, which was the longest amount of time she'd been home since she'd relocated to L.A.

“I'm well aware that water nymphs and fairies don't exist.” His voice slapped at her. Men like Tommy didn't like to be talked down to.

Funny, neither did women like Benita. She stopped pacing. She was done playing games. “The script isn't changing, Tommy.”

“If you want me to produce it, it will.”

“Then you won't be producing it. Thanks for your time.” He sure did think a lot of himself. Benita started to disconnect the call when the producer's voice stopped her.

“Benita, wait. I'm just asking for minor changes.”

“As I explained, this play is a tribute to the author's parents, not some blaxploitation project. You'll produce it as it's written or not at all.” In the past, she might have caved in to bullying by Tommy and people of his ilk. The old Benita measured success in deals made and money paid. Funny how that changed when you remembered where and who you came from.

“Aren't you at least going to take my offer to your client?”

“My client would agree with me.”
My client doesn't even know I'm shopping his work.

After a beat of silence, Tommy gave in. “Fine. Extend an offer to your client. The script will remain as it was written.”

Yes!
“I'll discuss your offer with my client and get back to you.” Benita disconnected the call.

Then she did a victory dance around Ms. Helen's cozy kitchen, jumping up and down and shaking her hips. She knew Vaughn's talents were meant to be enjoyed by thousands, millions even. She couldn't wait to see his face when she gave him the good news. She was breathless and impatient with excitement.

But she needed to slow down. Vaughn would take some convincing that Tommy Poole's offer was a good thing. She'd have to pick the right time to tell him. Even then, she'd have to hope for the best.

 

 

“There you are. I was starting to worry.”

Ramona looked up at Quincy's greeting. She pulled her gaze from the devastatingly handsome image he made in his teal T-shirt, slate gray shorts, and beautiful smile.
How can he still get to me when I'm this angry with him?

Without a word, she secured the front door of their rental cabin. It was more about buying time for herself than a concern about possible crime.

“Where have you been?” Quincy's smile was welcoming. His words were light as he approached her.

Ramona stepped away from the door to meet him halfway. In hindsight, she wished she'd asked Quincy that same question nine days ago, right after he'd met with Foster. Unless he came clean with her now, how could she ever trust him again? She stopped in front of the sofa in the family room. Quincy stood less than an arm's length from her. He pressed his lips against her cheek. Ramona's heart cracked.

She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat. “Have you seen Foster?”

Quincy's smile faded. “Foster? Why do you ask?”

Ramona stepped back. Was he going to lie to her again? “He asked me to give you his best. And he's still waiting for an answer about your faculty position.”

Surprise swept across his ruggedly handsome features. “You saw him?”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going to ask him for your job back?”

Quincy turned away from her. He shoved his fists into the front pockets of his shorts. “I was waiting for the right time.”

Ramona gaped at his broad back. “You were waiting for the right time? Well, you missed it. It came and left. Now you're dealing with this time.”

He faced her again, his forehead furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The right time would've been the minute the idea entered your head to ask Foster for your tenured faculty position back.” She jabbed a finger toward the multicolored area rug. “That would have been the right time, Q.”

“I didn't want to just spring this on you.” Quincy dragged a broad hand over his clean-shaven head. “I wanted you to know I had a plan.”

“You've created an entire plan that involved Foster agreeing for you to return?” Ramona straightened in surprise.

“Yes.” Quincy nodded like an eager puppy.

“And you've done all of this without even
once
consulting with me?” A red haze of anger returned to cloud her vision again.

For a beat, Quincy seemed at a loss for words. “Honey, I didn't want to get your hopes up until I knew that Foster would agree.”

Ramona wrapped her arms around herself. Fine tremors of anger shook her body. “I thought we were a couple, Q. I thought we were trying to build a life together.”

“We are.” He looked hurt. But not as hurt as she felt.

“Then why are you making plans for our lives without talking with me first?”

Quincy spread his arms. “I wanted to know if my idea would work. I wanted something to offer you as an alternative.”

“What if I enjoy living in Philadelphia? Suppose I didn't want to leave? Did that ever occur to you?”

Quincy circled the sofa. “I didn't do this to upset you.”

“Well, you managed to anyway.”

Quincy stopped pacing. He set his hands on his hips and faced her squarely. “What if I'd come to you and said I wanted to move back to Trinity Falls but first I need to know whether Foster would rehire me?”

“Then we would've had a basis for our conversation.” Ramona waved a stiff hand between the two of them. “But you went off on your own, without even telling me what you were thinking. I had to find out from someone else that my boyfriend met with his former boss. Do you know how unsettling that was for me?”

“Who told you?” Quincy frowned.

Ramona blinked. “What difference does that make? You have no right to be angry with the person who told me. You should be disappointed in yourself that
you
didn't tell me.”

“Do you really enjoy living in Philadelphia?” Quincy looked troubled.

Ramona threw up her hands. “That's not the point, either.”

“But do you?”

“No.” Why couldn't he see how wrong his actions had been? Was this really acceptable behavior to him? “I'm homesick, too, Quincy. I want to return to Trinity Falls, as well. But that's not the point.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “But if I did something that benefits both of us, why are you angry with me?”

Ramona's head was about to explode. “Because you designed your plan without taking me into consideration. We're supposed to be in this together. We're supposed to be a couple. But you acted on your own. And the fact that you can't see that you were wrong and why your actions hurt me tells me a lot about how you view our relationship.”

Fear entered Quincy's coal black eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I wonder if you and I even have a relationship. Or have I been deluding myself this entire time?”

Ramona turned away. She hurried into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, ignoring Quincy's pleas for her to talk to him. They'd done enough talking. Now it was her turn to come up with a plan.

 

 

Dinner was almost ready when Doreen heard Alonzo's key in the door Thursday evening. She'd grown to love that sound over the three weeks that they'd been living together. But tonight, in addition to a burst of happy anticipation, she felt a flicker of dread. She wasn't looking forward to telling him about her conversation with Leonard.

Alonzo's footsteps stopped in the kitchen's doorway. Doreen turned from the counter where she was cutting vegetables for the salad.

“Hello,
mi amor
.” His smile made her toes curl in her fuzzy pink slippers.

He was as handsome as ever despite the clouds in his eyes. When was he going to tell her what was causing them? She hated to pile one more thing on him. But the sooner she told him about Leonard, the sooner they could put the other man and his jealousy behind them.

Doreen crossed the kitchen to welcome Alonzo with a kiss. He drew her closer to deepen their caress. Doreen caught her breath as he swept his tongue over the seam of her lips and teased them apart.
Oh, my.
Leonard who?

Alonzo lifted his head and gazed down into her eyes.

Doreen's body pulsed with awakening desire. She cleared her throat. “How was your day?”

Alonzo gave her his slow smile. “It's getting better.”

“Good. I'm glad.” Doreen rested her hands on his biceps. She had the feeling his arms were the only things keeping her upright.

“Something smells delicious.”

“We're having chicken for dinner. It should be ready in a few minutes.” Doreen locked her knees, then eased out of his loose embrace. “There's something I need to tell you first, though.”