A Trashy Affair (10 page)

“The phone rings constantly, and people come to the desk for directions. I can’t work on a serious proposal with so many interruptions.”

“Lately, most of the calls are about the garbage service your specs screwed up. You have to handle them anyhow. Or are you telling me you can’t multitask? That handling a reception desk is beyond you? If so, hand in your resignation and save us all some grief.”

Grief, hell. If she knew how to shake her booty, Nadia would be doing the happy dance right now to celebrate her triumph over Jane. House payment. Renovation loan. Car payment. Jane swallowed.

“Easy peasy. Of course, I can handle two jobs. When do I start?”

“Right now. The reception desk is unstaffed as we speak. So, chop, chop. Get out there. I’ll be watching to see just how much money your proposals bring into this parish and if it even comes close to the salary we pay you.” Nadia rubbed her big hands together as if she kneaded dough.

Jane wrinkled her nose. She could smell the bone bread baking already.

Chapter Ten

Could this day get any worse? Jane placed the silly turkey centerpiece on her kitchen table. It did make her smile a little. She poured her single evening glass of red wine and sipped at it while she put away her specially ordered free-range bird and the rest of the supplies picked up for Thanksgiving dinner on the way home. Clouds obscured the sunset, and she’d missed it anyhow while in line at the Winn-Dixie. Resisting the urge to polish off the bottle or call Merlin for a big, strong shoulder to cry on, she went for the soft bosom instead and dialed her mom.

“Hi, Mom. Happy Night Before Thanksgiving.”

“Wish you could be here with us, honey. We’re having the geese your dad and brother shot. How about you?”

“Free-range turkey, pumpkin pie.”

“Sounds good. Are you having company?”

“Yes, just a neighbor coming over in the evening. I’ll be serving dinner at the homeless shelter at noon.”

“That’s my girl, always concerned for others and the environment. I am so proud of you. Male or female?”

“What?”

“Your dinner guest. An elderly neighbor?”

“No, not Mr. Babin. He has lots of family. A guy from those new townhouses across the way.”

How did her mother do it, sniff out the faintest hint of a man in her life from such a distance? Kathleen Marshall appeared soft and kind with her big, cushy breasts, warm smile, and lake green eyes. She still wore her hair long in a silver braid down her back, a remnant of her hippie days before she’d fallen for a young petroleum engineer prowling around the commune for a drilling sight. Oh, they’d done some drilling all right, Kathleen liked to say for shock value as they worked out compromises both could tolerate, wild goose for Thanksgiving being one of those. Geese were seriously overpopulating in some areas and throwing the environment out of balance.

“How did you meet this guy across the street?”

“I lectured him about throwing beer cans into my ditch.”

“Good, good, whenever we can convert a man to our way of thinking, that’s good. Who knows what comes next? Your father and I were oil and pure, fresh rainwater starting out, then…”

“Yes, I know. Merlin is just a new friend.”

“Interesting name, Merlin. It means the falcon in Middle English.”

Mom and her name lore, yet she couldn’t come up with something better than Jane for her own daughter. “For
Jane Eyre
, my favorite novel,” her mom said. “It’s a great honor to be named for her.” Sure, having Eyre for a middle name was great, too. People who hadn’t read the book often assumed she’d been married and divorced at a young age.

“Well, Merlin is an interesting man, but not why I called.”

“When will we get to meet him?”

“Possibly never. Mom, do you recall I’ve been telling you about Nadia Nixon, how she starts finding fault with an employee, dumps extra work on them so they can’t finish their own, then fires them?”

“Yes.” Her mother’s voice went deadly serious with only that one word.

“I think I’m next on the chopping block. She’s been picking at me lately and today, she fired May Robin and gave me receptionist duties instead of moving someone else into the position.”

“You can’t back down from bullies, Jane. Do your best and show her. If she fires you without cause, fight her.”

Sometimes, Jane wished her mother hadn’t been a protester in the Sixties. She only wanted to unburden herself, not develop a war against Nadia strategy, though that might not be a bad idea. Kathleen Marshall already thought ahead.

“If you lose your job, how long can you hold out financially?”

“Probably two months. I put so much into this house and still owe on my car. I never expected the recycling program to fail and the garbage contract to go so badly awry.” Damn, her throat clogged and her eyes filled with tears. Mom had the protective instincts of an alpha female wolf and the senses to go with it.

“Don’t cry, Jane. Fight! If worse comes to worse, you have a home here with us in Montana. I know you think of yourself as a Louisiana girl since you grew up there, but the world is a big place with lots of opportunities. You’ll come stay with us and lick your wounds, then get right back out there saving the environment. I know you will. Louisiana doesn’t deserve you.”

“No, but Louisiana needs me. I appreciate your faith in me, Mom. I guess that’s all I wanted to say. Have a good Thanksgiving.”

“You, too, honey. Wish the same to Merlin from all of us.”

“I will. Bye.”

The instant the connection ended, Jane poured herself another glass of wine to clear her throat. One swallow into it and the phone rang. Probably her mother calling back with more thoughts on the subject of fighting Nadia. No. Jethro Robin’s name came up on the caller ID.

“Hi, Mr. Jethro. Happy Thanksgiving! Thanks so much for letting me use your recycling bin. What can I do for you?” Jane strove to banish all distress from her voice and replace it with good cheer.

“Stop using my recycle bin. You took advantage of us. Why, I could hardly drag the danged thing to the curb.”

“I’m so sorry.” Never would she reveal the first load represented only a pittance of the stash of old newspapers, bottles, and cans waiting in plastic barrels in her garage. “Next time I’ll wheel the cart to the curb. Would that be all right?”

“No, it would not. Besides misusing our bin, you betrayed my sister. Now she’s out on her fanny at the parish council office, and you have her job. Word travels fast in a town like Chapelle.”

“I don’t want May’s job. Nadia forced me into doing it. At least May has her full pension. If I get fired, I get nothing.”

“Ask me if I care about you when my sister is having a nervous breakdown. She’s a childless old maid like you. That job was her world, so take your garbage somewhere else.”

“It’s not garbage. It’s recyclable materials.”

“You say!”

A scuffle ensued on the other end of the call. She should simply hang up and cut her loses. Spring probably wanted to get her licks in next.

“Give it up, old man! You hear me. Stop blaming Jane for what Miss Nixon did. Jane, you there?” Spring Robin’s voice came over the phone.

“Yes. I’m sorry about overstuffing the bin. Honestly, I’d be glad to take it to the curb if Mr. Jethro would allow me to use it again. I want to have a retirement party for May at my house, too. How Nadia treated her was entirely unfair.”

“Go in your den and watch the news, Jethro. Let us be. There, he’s gone. It’s Jethro’s back. He carried the mail as a postal worker for years and injured it in the service of his country. Neither rain, nor snow, you know. He can’t handle a heavy bin and won’t admit it. Letting a little girl like you haul it to the street would injure his pride. Sorry, I guess you’ll have to find another recycling buddy. I know how my husband is and shouldn’t have offered in the first place.”

“Sure, I’ll try to find someone else and not overload the next time. Please believe me I had nothing to do with May losing her job.”

“Sometimes I think Jethro’s back isn’t the only thing out of whack. What a crazy idea. No,
cher,
why would an educated woman like you with a special degree want to be a receptionist? I think May got things all turned around when you came to help her clean out her desk and then sat in her chair to take phone calls whether you wanted to or not. It is true working at the council office meant everything to my sister-in-law, but her brother doesn’t know the half of it. One day, I’ll tell you all about May Robin and her long-term affair with Woof Langlois.”

“Huh?”

“Doesn’t matter right now. You have a nice holiday, you hear, and if you see Merlin Tauzin give him peck on the cheek from me.”

For several minutes, Jane stood in the middle of her kitchen with the disconnected phone in her hand. May with her garish red helmet hair, age spots, and warm heart had been the parish president’s mistress, or maybe still was. No, Jane couldn’t imagine that and did not want to, but her own mother kept assuring Jane that she and her dad maintained a vital sex life. Still, Mom had to be at least ten years younger than May. For a short time, the mystery took away the pain of losing the use of that sexy recycling bin and having to serve Nadia as a receptionist.

When her anguish returned, she thought of calling Merlin. His granny would know the full skinny on May and Woof, too. Jane checked the clock. She figured the Magnolia Villa residents probably dined about now. No, she could not, would not do either. She despised weak women who leaned on men for support, and gossip, even greatly warmed over, more than that. Simply having Merlin sitting in her kitchen tomorrow would be the world’s greatest distraction from her woes. Tonight, she’d bake a pumpkin pie, maybe cook a few other dishes in advance, and polish off the rest of her wine.

Chapter Eleven

Merlin Tauzin did fill a room just by stepping over the threshold. He must have walked over because Jane never heard him coming without that big-ass truck, whose roar could be distinguished a mile away. He knocked but walked right in afterward, perfectly at home, and held out a bottle of wine.

Without pleasantry or prelude, he said, “The man at the grocery store swore this would go with turkey, even the free-range kind.”

Although Jane startled when he barged into the kitchen, she went back to making her radish rose garnishes at the sink, determined to be as casual as he was. “Good. Unscrew the top and pour some for both of us. Wineglasses are in the cupboard to your left.”

“I need a corkscrew.”

Did she detect a tad of insult in his deep voice? Jane took a closer look at the bottle, a nice California white zinfandel—with a cork. She removed her best corkscrew from her partitioned utility drawer and handed it to Merlin.

“See, you clamp it down on both sides, turn the screw, pull the levers up, and out comes the cork.”

“I think I can handle this without all the instruction.” He did, very deftly. Pouring two glasses, he asked, “You want ice in yours?”

“Ah, no.”

She kept her eyes on the cutting board to hide her amusement. He came up behind her, very close, set the glass within her reach, then stayed there lounging against the counter and watching her work. His body heat alone would have distracted her, but he’d shaved before coming over and the spicy scent of his aftershave mingled so pleasantly with the aroma of roasting turkey that she inhaled deeply. Still wearing his R.A.S. uniform of pressed navy blue slacks, starched sky blue shirt with the golden company logo, and his name tag as if she might forget what to call him, Merlin looked as good as he smelled. What was it about a man in a uniform, marine, pilot, or UPS, that made him so damned attractive?

“Anything I can do for you?” he asked, leaning in.

“Sure, take these cans out to the garage. Put them in the orange barrel, please.”

He scooped up the tins once holding pumpkin and condensed milk and loped off following her orders. Quickly back again, he returned to his position at the counter.

“You have lots of garbage out there. I need to get around to cleaning that garage.”

“Recyclables. I’m storing them until we get a new contract for the parish.”

“I thought you said Spring Robin would let you use her bin.”

“Not anymore. Evidently, I abused my privilege by overstuffing her cart.”

“Doesn’t sound like Spring, more like that shit-ass, Jethro.”

“
Merde
mouth, Merlin. You got that right, but they have only one bin between them. Why don’t you sit down? The turkey won’t be ready for another forty-five minutes. Here, have some crudités.” Jane moved away from his body heat, took a pretty amber pressed glass plate from the refrigerator, and sat it on the pumpkin-colored tablecloth. The turkey centerpiece squatted merrily between two beeswax candles in wooden holders.

“Thank you for the flowers. They made me smile on an otherwise bad day.”

“Glad you liked them. I thought they were a hoot, too. No boudin balls, huh?” he said as he took a seat. “Let’s see here, raw broccoli and cauliflower, sweet pepper strips in three colors, celery, baby carrots, and cherry tomatoes. No chance this is ranch dressing in the center?”

“Lo-cal yogurt dip, but it tastes almost the same.”

Merlin immersed a baby carrot in dip all the way to his fingertips and chewed it up. “Sure it does.”

The trouble with the man was she could never tell if he joked or not, he suppressed his smile so well. She rushed to assure him that he wouldn’t starve at her table carefully set with the silver she’d inherited from her paternal grandmother, her pottery dinnerware with the lemon pattern, and amber-colored goblets that matched the relish tray picked up cheaply at the K-Mart. You worked with what you had and could afford in her book.

“Don’t worry, you won’t go hungry. We have pear, pecan and blue cheese salad, fresh green beans sautéed with caramelized onions, cranberry-orange relish, some of those great whole wheat rolls from Pommier’s bakery, pumpkin pie, oh, and rice dressing made from a recipe May Robin gave me. You’ll like that, I think, even though I substituted brown rice.”

She couldn’t help it. The mention of May choked her up. Jane turned rapidly back to the cutting board where she sliced the last radish and dumped it into a bowl of cold water with the others. She gripped the side of the sink and tried so very hard to keep her shoulders from shaking. Merlin’s big hands came to rest on either side of her neck. Maybe if he really was crazy, he’d snap her spine and put her out of her misery, a mercy killing.