Small Town Tango

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Authors: Jennifer LeJeune

BOOK: Small Town Tango
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Small Town Tango

 

by Jennifer LeJeune

 

 

 

Copyright © 2013 Blue Ribbon Books

 

 

 

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

 

For questions and comments about this book, please contact us at [email protected]

 

 

 

 

Small Town Tango

 

 

 

“Monica, get my grandmother on the line as soon as you can. My mother tells me that she isn’t doing very well on her own these days, and the health care in Little Hill  is  absent, to say the least,” says Bo. 

 

“Yes, sir, Mr. Brogan.  That is awful to hear, I do hope she is alright.”

 

 Bo Brogan loves his grandmother very much, although he has not seen her in years due to his constant effort to make partner in one of the biggest, most prominent law firms in Dallas, Texas.  He has accomplished that goal now and is extremely successful and very well-known to the Dallas elite, yet he still feels like he is missing something. Bo has a yearning to be close to his family now that he is finally settled in his life. He recently bought a luxury apartment building, on top of just winning one of the most publicized murder cases the city has seen in years. Plenty of people are envious of Bo Brogan, but he feels like he is lacking so much and thinks that his family is what could fill that emptiness. Bo is determined to have his grandmother come live in his newly acquired luxurious apartment building so he can keep a close watch on her; he is, after all, her only grandchild.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hellooo, this is Viola,” said the cheery old lady on the other end of the line.

 

“Oh hello, Mrs. Brogan, I’m so glad I caught you. This is Monica, Bo’s secretary. I have Bo on the line for you.”

 

“Well, what a nice surprise! I haven’t spoken with him in so long,” Viola replies. 

 

“Yes,” she smiles, “I am transferring you now.” 

 

“Hi Mammy. How are you? I have heard so many things. Mother says there isn’t a cardiologist in town and that you really need to be close to one considering your condition. Have you stopped driving your car? How are you getting to the grocery? Who is helping you with chores around the house?”

 

 “Geez aloo!  Slow down, boy! I can only answer one question at a time. I am almost 89 years old, you are going to have to give me a second to catch up. For starters, I am just fine and dandy, let me tell you. I don’t know what nonsense this is that your mother is speaking of, but it is just a big bunch of bologna if I have ever heard any!”

 

“But Mammy,” Bo replies, “I just don’t see how you are going to be able to make it in a town without the proper medical care that you need and someone to help you around the house. I know you want everyone to think that the heart attack was no big deal, but you are still recovering, and you should have help. Please come live in my new building. You would be right across the hall from me, so I can check on you several times a day and get your shopping done for you. Please, Mammy,” begs Bo.

 

  The thought of leaving the comfort of the tiny town Viola has lived in all of her life has never even crossed her mind, why would she now? She has the church for support, and the women are so thoughtful of her, she hardly ever has to bake a pie. The boys come by once a week to trim the lawn and pull the weeds.  Little Hill is the only place Viola has ever known as home, she can’t imagine trying to make a home anywhere else, especially in the city. Little Hill’s rolling hills and beautiful bluebonnets, and the greenest of grass, and the tallest of trees are her paradise.  She could never say goodbye to her home.

 

  “I don’t think so, sonny,” replies Viola, “I was born a country girl and I will always be a country girl, and in the country I will stay! I have no desire to live fifty feet up in the air in some cramped apartment building with one window, and a neighbor on the other side of my wall. I need my space and I need my air, FRESH air! I’m sorry, Bo, but it is absolutely out of the question.”

 

As the days go by, Bo tries to come up with incentives to make his grandmother more inclined to come. “Maybe I can get her a ground unit with a small backyard and plant a flower bed,” he thinks to himself. “I will enroll her in the women’s bridge club.” “Maybe a unit with a skylight will do the trick.”

 

Katherine Bates is a sweet girl, who lives in Little Hill and attends church with Miss Viola. She always checks on Miss Viola whenever she can, bringing her pastries and her favorite peach tea from her bakery.  Katherine’s dad passed away a few years ago and left Bates Bakery to his only daughter whom he cherished deeply.  Katherine’s mother passed away when she was just a little girl, and now, with her father gone, she focuses much of her attention on God and volunteering wherever she is needed. It makes her happy to make others happy. Running a bake shop could never please her the way that reading a book to a lonely patient in a nursing home, or cooking meals for a needy family does. Her best friends Becky and Sally are the women who actually run the shop for her, so she can do the things that the Lord has called her to do. Every once in a while she will pull a few shifts and make sure everything is going smoothly. The bake shop was her father’s dream, not at all hers, but she definitely will not let it die. Bates Bakery is the most popular place in town.

 

On Sunday morning, the church bells ring and Katherine sees Miss Viola walking up the path. Luckily, Miss Viola lives directly around the corner from the church, so it is one place she has no problem getting to. She enjoys the walk past all of the honeysuckle bushes, the smell of honeysuckle is her favorite.  

 

“Good morning, Miss Viola,” Katherine says with a sweet smile.

 

 “Well, good morning, my Katy bug.”  

 

As they walk up the path hand in hand, they admire the pure white building with the tall slender steeple that has a cross on the top. The large double oak doors are warm and inviting. The stained glass windows on every side make the sanctuary look magical when the sun shines on them. This is a place that brings peace and security to their hearts. It is likely that the love for the Little Hill Church of God and the loss of Katherine’s parents at such a young age combined with the loss of Viola’s husband years ago are what have brought them so close.

 

“Would you like me to walk you home after the service?”

 

 “Do you even have to ask?” replies Viola. “Would you mind changing out a light bulb for me, Katy bug? I just can’t seem to get up on that old step ladder anymore.”

 

“I certainly can,” replies Katherine. “Would you mind making me one of your famous Viola turkey sandwiches?”

 

 “Well, of course, I can,” replies Viola.

 

They smile and giggle knowing they would do anything for each other and there is no reason to even ask, but the habit of common courtesy is something that you cannot un-teach yourself.

 

When they get to Mrs. Brogan’s driveway, they see an unfamiliar red sports car sitting in the drive. Out pops a fiery-looking redhead wearing a black pencil skirt and a tight black blouse.

 

“Well, hello,” she says in a very businesslike tone, walking towards Viola with an outstretched hand. “I’m Monica Gavin; I work for your grandson, Bo. He has sent me out to speak with you about some possible living arrangements that he would like to have set up for you at The Squire, his new apartment building.  It’s quite luxurious, I am sure you will be very pleased with what I have to show you.”

 

Viola had been expecting this. Katherine’s face immediately turns green and she looks like she might puke. She knew nothing of Miss Viola moving away, nothing at all. How could this be? Miss Viola is the closest elder that she has had for years, this just can’t be true. At that moment, Katherine’s phone rings, it is Becky from the bakery. They are swamped like usual on Sunday afternoons after church and could use a hand.

 

“Um, Miss Viola,” Katherine says, “I have to get to the bakery, it’s an emergency. I will be back to change out the light bulb as soon as I can.”

 

 Katherine walks away quickly, trying to hold back the tears. She couldn’t imagine that Miss Viola had been planning on moving away and hadn’t even told her. Why would she move away? She loves it here, this is her home. She has a whole town of love and support. “Am I not helping her enough?” Katherine asks herself.

 

 

 

 

 

As soon as Katherine enters the bake shop, Becky and sally take notice of the sad, confused look on her face. “Katherine,” whispers Becky quietly, “what’s wrong?” Katherine suddenly shakes her head and goes over the counter to ask Mrs. Jones what she will be having today.

 

“What will it be today, Mrs. Jones?” asks Katherine.

 

“Let’s see,” says Mrs. Jones, “I think I will have two chocolate chip muffins and a loaf of banana bread for my grandson Dylan. You know, Katherine,” she leans in to Katherine and lowers her voice a little, “he just broke it off with that hifalutin mess of a woman, Amber Chaney. That girl thought just because her daddy owns almost the whole town that she can go around treating people like they are less than human. Not my Dylan! He didn’t put up with that for long, just like I thought he wouldn’t, he ended it. Thank you, Jesus!” she says with her hands stretched up to the sky.

 

Katherine gives Miss Jones a half smile, as she knows her intentions. Everyone does. Agnes Jones has wanted her grandson Dylan to take Katherine Bates on a date for years. Katherine knows everyone feels sorry for her for not having any parents around and never having a boyfriend. Her life is quite fulfilling though, and she knows exactly what she wants in a man. She will settle for nothing less than a good, honest Christian man, and she has seen Dylan Jones at church too few times to believe that he is worthy of her time.

 

“You know, Katherine, it would be so nice to see you dating darling,” says Mrs. Jones. “Didn’t you just turn 25? You aren’t getting any younger, and all of the fish in the sea will be swallowed up if you wait too much longer!” Now that brings a huge smile to Katherine’s face, Mrs. Jones did have the ability to be quite humorous.

 

Just then, Sally comes running up saying “There is a problem with the loaves of bread for tomorrow, they aren’t rising like they are supposed to and all of them will have to be made over right away.”

 

Katherine gives Mrs. Jones a nod and a smile and her order, and hurries off to fix tomorrow’s problem.

 

Back at Mrs. Brogan’s, pots and pans are about to fly as Monica will not take no for an answer. Anything Viola turns down, Monica is right there offering bigger and better. Finally, Viola’s sweet and patient look turns into pressed lips and fire in her eyes.

 

“You listen here, Monica, I am sorry that my grandson has sent you all this way to try and convince me to move to Dallas, but that won’t happen, my dear. 252 Chelsea Lane, Little Hill, Texas has been my address for 65 years. I would not move out of this house for a skylight, a flower bed, a lousy bridge club, or anything else you might be able to offer. The people here are my life. This house holds decades of memories and I will not do away with them. Now, with all due respect, Mrs. Gavin, I believe it is time for you to leave. My blood pressure seems to be quite elevated and I would like to have a rest. I assume you can see yourself out? Good!” Viola replies without waiting for a response from Monica, quite irritated by this whole charade Bo has put her through.

 

“Please tell the boy I said hello, dear,” Viola says as she reclines in her chair. Monica walks out the door shaking her head, looking quite defeated, as she has just tried offering this woman the moon and she just would not bite.  “Well, there goes my bonus,” Monica mumbles under her breath as she slams her car door and speeds out of the driveway, kicking up dust on her way out.

 

                         

 

Katherine is covered in flour now that she has made sixteen loaves of bread for tomorrow’s lunch rush.  The Bates BLT is one of the lunch favorites on the menu. Her father had concocted the perfect secret sauce for it.

 

“Should we go ahead and lock up?” Becky asks Katherine.

 

“Sure,” replies Katherine, “it’s only about ten minutes to closing anyway, I don’t think anyone else will come in.”

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