Crain's Landing (8 page)

“Dustin Andrew! Mind your manners, only one!”

The boy reluctantly shoved the second sucker back in the drawer and shut it. “Oh, man, you just got middle named, dude. You’re in so much trouble.” I determined, based on his white lab coat, this was the doctor. He was laughing and shaking his head. The little boy was laughing along with him.

“Just be glad we’re in public, she would’ve smacked me otherwise,” the boy volunteered. The doctor chuckled as he nudged the little boy’s shoulder.

“Dude, you’re way lucky. My mom wouldn’t have cared if we were in public. She would’ve smacked me so hard my grandchildren would’ve felt it.”

Everyone laughed except Carolyn who tsked at her son. “Grant, really.” The way she looked at him made me laugh, causing the doctor to look in my direction. “Grant, this is Natalie Reid. She’s the new director at the library and she has the cutest baby girl. I want you to meet with her, as she’s looking for a new pediatrician.”

It became apparent to me that Carolyn was trying to play matchmaker. I looked at her to find that all-knowing expression on her face. “You know, Grant, Dustin was your last patient and I think it would be nice for you to take Natalie out for an early dinner and show her around a bit.”

That was my cue to end this shit before it got out of hand. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Crain, although that’s a wonderful suggestion, I have a ton of work to get done and plans I just can’t get out of tonight.”

Grant was undeniably good-looking. His blue eyes and tan skin were a winning combination. His spiky, dark hair was better suited on the younger generation, but somehow it worked on him. The man undoubtedly knew the inside of a gym as his muscles—even camouflaged by his clothing—were very impressive. The thing about men like Grant, they knew they were easy on the eyes and charming, and they used it to their advantage. He might have been a doctor, and by the talk of the town, the only pediatrician available here, but I wasn’t interested in anything other than his medical expertise.

“Oh, now, Natalie, call me Carolyn, and I’m certain your plans can be moved around a bit. I mean you have to eat.”

I had to keep Carolyn on my side. I needed this office to display those fliers since they served our biggest target audience. “Carolyn, I love that you’re watching out for me. But the truth of the matter is I have a short time to get things in motion for the reopening of the library. I’m asking you kindly to let me post these fliers in your office.” I purposely kept my eyes away from Grant...Dr. Crain. I wasn’t about to get pulled in by him.

“Oh, Natalie, of course we’ll post those fliers. First, let me introduce you properly to my son Grant.”

I rose from my seat and walked the short distance to where he stood. Being up close showed he was even more appealing. I was certain he’d never had a problem with women throwing themselves at his feet. I wasn’t interested in being one of them. I extended my hand and placed my best professional smile on my face. “Dr. Crain, I’m Natalie Reid, new director for the town library.”

I watched his eyes as they took me in. Had I been interested, I would have been melting in my shoes from the heat of his gaze. He took my hand in his, and in a clichéd move, he turned my handshake into him, kissing the skin on the back of my hand, those ice blue eyes never leaving mine.

“It’s certainly my pleasure.”

I took my hand back and continued in my professional voice. “Thank you, Dr. Crain; it’s a pleasure to meet you, too. As I was telling Carolyn here, we’re having the children’s reading hour back on Saturdays. I wanted to leave a flier for your parents to see. I’m hoping for a good turnout.”

“Well, Natalie...I can call you Natalie, right?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

“And in return, you must call me Grant.”

With a resolve in place, my professional face in tact, I responded. “Oh, but Dr. Crain, it took you far longer to receive that coveted title, so you’ll only hear respect from me.”

He reached out to take my hand again. “Oh, Natalie, I sincerely hope that’s negotiable. You’ll find that I can be a very patient and persistent man. I do so love the thrill of a good challenge.”

Yeah, well, I hoped the thrill of the challenge would be enough for Dr. Patient and Persistent, because that was all he was going to be getting from me.

Since arriving in Crain’s Landing, I’d heard repeatedly how good the one and only diner was in town. With my stomach now rumbling loudly, I decided it was high time to make a visit.

Nelson's diner was located in the heart of the town square. The cinder block building, painted sea foam green with plant boxes filled with thick ivy welcoming you to the entrance. Large planters stood on either side of the glass entry door. The neon sign above that read
Nelson’s
hummed; its age evident in the baby pink color of the boards. There was no annoying bell announcing my arrival as I opened the heavy door. Spindle chairs stood in a single row, their chrome panels glistened brightly in the light coming in from the massive windows. Music flowed from the jukebox resting in the far corner, it current tune one I hadn’t heard yet.

“Well, I was wondering when you would make it in.” Standing behind the long counter was a plump woman. She stood tall with her bright red hair stacked in an obscene beehive hairdo, glasses resting against her ample chest. “Maybelline said you couldn’t get enough of her rhubarb pie.” Truthfully, most of that pie went in the trash as it was so sour we couldn’t eat it. I returned the empty pie plate with a batch of my baking; a gesture I was told was customary here in the deep South. “Now we can get you something you can stomach.”

I sat down at one of the empty booths. Dad had called me on my way to Dr. Crain’s office and insisted he and Peggy wanted time with Peyton. He had missed so much of when she was younger I didn’t dare tell him no. The waitress placed a tall glass of ice tea, which I had no doubt had more sugar than tea present, in front of me. Seemed there was only one way to have tea here in the South—cold and sweet. She placed a paper menu beside the glass and a set of silverware rolled in a napkin. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to decide.”

The special for tonight was chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas. I decided it was best to just go with what was most likely fresh and ordered the special. “I’ll get that right out to you, with a piece of decent rhubarb pie, on the house.” Waving off the waitress, I took a look around the diner. It was nothing special, vinyl booths with various patrons seated. A man at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. However, it was the conversation between two older ladies who had just come in that caught my attention.

“Well, all I am sayin’ is it makes sense.” The shorter of the two, her stylish hair cut short and curled under at the ends.

“Doris, that may be all true and good, but doesn’t mean he is gonna just forget about Rebecca and go for this Yankee girl.”

There was no mistaking who they were talking about; this wasn’t the first time I had heard someone reference me as, “the Yankee girl.” Or this lady named Rebecca, I hadn’t asked around about her, mostly because I didn’t care.

“Well, Bea, that girl has been gone for a long time and with the slim pickin’s this town has to offer, he would be a fool not to spend some time with her. After all, it just ain’t right for a doctor not to have a proper wife. She has a baby so she must have had a husband at one point in her life.”

I watched as the waitress approached the gossiping ladies. Leaning over, she motioned for the pair to look in my direction. As hastily as the conversation began, the realization I had heard them talking sunk in and all words stopped. Pretending as if nothing had occurred, the two ladies decided to peruse the menu. By the norm of this town, looking at that paper was a rouse to make me believe they were doing anything except for gossiping. Which, frankly, was the favorite pastime of the entire county.

Looking out the window, I questioned if this was the real reason behind the attention I got from not only Carolyn and Peggy, but Autumn as well. Did Dr. Crain need a wife so his standing in this town would be a little higher? Were the women here so bad that the first newcomer was up for auction? This news allowed me to see things in a different light. Had my views on men in general been different, it would have certainly hit a nerve, perhaps even made me cry. Yet it only served to reestablish my belief I came here with. Men are pigs, not worthy of my time.

I shook my head as the waitress kept her word and slid a large piece of pie in front of me. After taking that first bite, I knew one thing...Mrs. Nelson was right; her rhubarb pie was so much better.

PROGRESS AT THE LIBRARY WAS
in full swing. This morning, the delivery driver unloaded thirty boxes of new books and Henry, our elderly postman, had another twenty-five boxes in the back of his pickup truck. Morning Star Media had sent over one thousand DVDs for our use. According to the contract they included, they would continue to provide new release DVDs to us and we, in turn, would provide a space for them to advertise their other merchandise. I was hesitant at first until I was shown what their idea was of an advertisement. They provided rental cards with a barcode on the back of each. When the owner of the card used it to rent a movie, a receipt would be printed, and on the back of the receipt was an ad for whatever product they were currently promoting. Each DVD would cost only one dollar to rent.

This morning, I received an email from a sister company to Morning Star, Mystic Records. They wanted to supply us with CDs and music downloads that could be used by our patrons. I instantly replied with a thank you and found that by the end of the following week, I would be able to set up a music section.

However, the most amazing news of the morning was the team of men who were busy sawing and building in the parking lot. Dwight Merchant, an instructor from the local community college, had introduced himself as soon as I’d pulled into the parking lot. He was a kind and polite man, with a large frame and curly hair that peaked out from a well-broken in ball cap. The sunlight illuminated the large fishhook he had secured to the bill of the hat. He explained he was from the next town over. His family, originally coal miners, had taken up new trades after too many of their kin died in the caverns they mined. He began a long tale of how his early ancestors befriended the natives, living in the surrounding hills; how his parents had an extensive collection of artwork passed down from those relations. I told him how Native American art interested me, and he invited me to attend one of their gatherings, which were, “just a bunch of good ole boys sitting around and telling stories.” I picked up he was suggesting more than a simple friendly invite; he was fishing for an opportunity for a date. I smiled politely while telling him I would be more than happy to post a flier advertising their event. I caught his smirk when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Ashley came in only a few minutes after I did, holding the door for another group of men carrying more boxes. Contemporary Coffee, a Charleston-based coffee house, had agreed to open a coffee and pastry shop in the library. They had a phenomenal mission statement supporting literacy. When I emailed the CEO of the company with the details of this town’s lack of coffee houses, George Carpenter called me personally with an idea. They would open a small shop inside the library and if all went as he predicted, they would open an entire store in the town in the near future. I was excited, especially at the possibility of at least ten new jobs in the community.

Ashley had done some investigative work and discovered that Mr. Barrow had invested all the grant money through a brokerage in Charleston. I contacted the city council and they had a judge issue a release for the funds. With the money, I planned to renovate the entire interior of the library. I had contacted several contractors in the city and had each of them give me bids to do the work.

I was sitting behind my desk at a little after ten o’clock when my day began to turn to shit. I watched from my window as a man carried a huge vase full of flowers into the building. Thinking they were more than likely for Brittney, I returned to my paperwork, only to be interrupted by a knock at my office door. “Come in,” I spoke loudly as I continued with my task.