Mystic Park (12 page)

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Authors: Regina Hart

BOOK: Mystic Park
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CHAPTER 14
“Thanks for cooking breakfast.” Vaughn accepted the plate of French toast and turkey bacon Benita handed him Friday morning.
She could smell him on the shirt he'd loaned her. His scent was a mixture of soap and cedar. Her heart squeezed.
“You're welcome.” Benita carried her plate to Vaughn's kitchen table and took the seat to his right. “I would've made the coffee, too.”
“You do many things well, sweetheart.” Vaughn gave her a teasing look. “Making coffee isn't one of them.”
“Your inability to handle my high-octane java doesn't make it bad.” Benita cut into her French toast. “I also appreciate the loan of your shirt.”
“It looks good on you.” The expression in Vaughn's eyes as they skimmed the button-down powder blue shirt reminded Benita that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
She'd fastened only a few of the buttons. Vaughn's gaze lingered on the gap at her neckline before moving lower to where the shirt's hem fell to midthigh. Her body grew hungry for another form of sustenance.
“You don't look so bad yourself.” Benita's voice was breathless. Her eyes caressed the warm cream dress shirt that stretched across Vaughn's broad shoulders and complimented his nutmeg skin. She'd bought him the brick red tie.
“The last time you made me breakfast wearing my clothes was college.” Vaughn's voice was pensive. “I was living in an apartment off campus. You wore my Heritage High football jersey.”
“I remember that.” Benita kept her gaze on her plate as she fed herself a forkful of French toast.
“I'm still upset about losing that jersey.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” Benita pictured his jersey in her drawer with the rest of her night wear. She felt guilty but not enough to return it.
“It just disappeared.”
“Hmmm.” Benita made herself swallow another bite of French toast. They ate in silence for a while. Benita wrestled with her guilt over Vaughn's jersey.
“The same thing happened to my diary.” She finally broke the silence. “I used to write in it every day. One day it was there, the next it was gone.”
“That's strange.”
“I think my mother took it. It disappeared while I was home from college during summer break.” Benita sipped her coffee. “She denies it, but who else could it be? She knew about the diary and had access to it.”
“You have a point.”
“It's bad enough that she'd take my diary, but why keep it for all these years? That's just silly.” Benita shrugged off her irritation. “Anyway, let's talk about something happier, like how wonderful
Mystic Park
is.”
“Thank you.” Pleasure warmed Vaughn's cocoa eyes.
“I know some producers who'd be happy to read it. It's right up their alley.”
The pleasure faded from his expression. “I'm not interested.”
Benita had anticipated that response. She knew Vaughn too well to have expected this pitch would be easy. “Why not?”
“I'm producing my play here, in Trinity Falls.”
“I know, and I'm proud that you're using your work to raise money for the community center. But after the fund-raiser, you could produce
Mystic Park
in other cities and expose your work to a wider audience.”
Vaughn stacked his dishes with Benita's, then rose from the table. “Benny, why do you want to show my work to this producer?”
Was he kidding?
Benita followed Vaughn to his dishwasher.
“Your play is fantastic, the script as well as the music.” Her words sped up with her enthusiasm. “It should be performed in front of as many audiences as possible. Why don't you want that?”
“I'm not interested in meeting with producers, pitching my work to investors, touring. I don't want any of that.” Vaughn stacked the dirty dishes in his dishwasher. “All I ever wanted was to share my work with my community.”
“But, Vaughn, you could do so much more with your talent.” Benita spread her arms. “I don't understand why you don't want to.”
Vaughn straightened from the dishwasher. “And I don't understand why what I do want isn't enough for you.”
“Because it isn't.” Benita spun on her bare heel and marched out of the kitchen. “You have too much talent to let it go to waste.”
Vaughn followed her up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Putting my talents to use in Trinity Falls isn't a waste. This town is enough for me. It used to be enough for you, too, before you let your mother change your mind.”
“My mother was right. And, if you'd ever left this town, you'd see that.” Benita kept her back to Vaughn as she pulled on the clothes she'd worn yesterday.
If she faced him as she took off her clothes, she'd drag him back to bed. Sadly, it was getting late. Vaughn had to get to work and she wanted to accompany her great-aunt to another meeting with Foster.
“I've visited you in Los Angeles several times. If that's your idea of having more, you're welcome to keep all of it.” Vaughn's disgruntled words carried to her from across the room.
“Is that your final decision?” Benita turned as she adjusted the hem of her T-shirt over the waistband of her capris.
“Yes, it is.” Vaughn's tone and expression were stubborn.
“All right. I won't say I'm not disappointed, but I promise not to bring it up again.” Benita crossed the room and led Vaughn back downstairs.
“I appreciate that.” His clipped response came from behind her.
“Don't mention it.” Benita waited at the foot of the stairs. She grabbed his shirt front to pull him down for a quick kiss. “Have a good day.”
“Thanks.” He regarded her warily.
Benita paused in the living room just long enough to grab her purse, then followed Vaughn out of his townhome to his car. She ignored the suspicious looks he kept sending her way.
Promising not to bring it up again to Vaughn didn't prevent her from sending his script to the producer on her own. And, if the producer's interest in Vaughn's work finally convinced him to move to L.A. with her, well, that was just a bonus.
 
 
Benita pulled her spring jacket more closely around her shoulders. Outside, the weather was starting to resemble spring. Inside, Foster's TFU office in Butler Hall was an icebox this Friday morning. Was he trying to ensure that she and Ms. Helen didn't overstay their welcome? If that was the case, he shouldn't talk so much.
“And so, Doctor Gaston, TFU would consider it a great favor if you would reconsider your opposition to a small celebration in recognition of this endowed chair.” Foster wrapped up his speech.
Benita was incredulous. The older man must have spoken for more than five minutes. Had her great-aunt even listened to all of that?
“You want me to let you host a celebration in my honor?” Ms. Helen summarized the university vice president's five-, six-, maybe even seven-minute speech.
“That's right.” Foster nodded as though in emphasis.
“No.” Ms. Helen's response was swift and short.
Benita could have told Foster his long-winded speech wasn't going to persuade her impatient great-aunt.
Foster's lips parted in shock. “Doctor Gaston—”
“Foster, let's wait until the donor arrives.” Benita checked her Movado watch. “She should be here any minute now. Aunt Helen and I were early.”
“She's here now.” A new voice joined the conversation.
Benita turned to see an attractive older woman stride confidently into Foster's office. So this was Dr. Lana Penn, Ms. Helen's protégé. Why had Benita expected a mousy woman with much less fashion sense? The research scientist was tall and slender with great clothes and even better shoes.
Lana's thick cap of dark brown hair was layered around her diamond-shaped face. Her chocolate-colored trench coat hung open over a simple black dress. The pencil straight hemline ended at the chemist's knees. Her matching black stilettos boosted her height by about three inches. A chunky silver necklace, bracelet, and earrings brightened the dark outfit.
“Thank you for convening this meeting, Doctor Gooden.” The woman stopped in front of Foster's desk and extended her hand.
Foster was already standing. He returned her greeting. “Please call me Foster.”
“Thank you.” Lana gave the university vice president a gracious smile before turning to Benita. “You must be Benita Hawkins. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Doctor Gaston has told me wonderful things about you over the years.”
Really?
Benita blinked. The first she'd heard of Doctor Lana Penn was when Ms. Helen had mentioned the endowment in the same tone Benita used to schedule a dentist's appointment. Benita gave her great-aunt a look that assured her they'd discuss this later. Ms. Helen replied with a look that said only if she was in the mood.
Ms. Helen started to rise from her seat, but Lana approached her chair and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Please don't get up, Doctor Gaston. It's great to see you again.” She bent over to give Ms. Helen a hug.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ms. Helen?” Her tone was querulous, but the elder chemist returned Lana's embrace with obvious affection.
“It will take some getting used to.” Lana took the extra seat to Ms. Helen's left. “So, why don't you want a formal ceremony to announce the endowed chair?”
Benita tilted her head at the research chemist's direct approach. Impressive. Ms. Helen couldn't dismiss Lana's question with another one-word answer.
“This endowment shouldn't be about me.” Ms. Helen folded her hands in her lap. “Your donation will do a lot for the students and the department. Keep the focus there.”
“The students are the point of this endowment.” Lana shifted in her seat to face Ms. Helen. “But I want the second-year chemistry students, faculty, even staff to know you're the inspiration behind this donation and why. Faculty members who apply for the chair have to be prepared to follow your example. That's a big commitment.”
Benita stilled as she heard the brilliant, accomplished, successful woman express the impact her great-aunt had had on her. It was almost overwhelming.
But Ms. Helen was shaking her head. “Don't put me in the limelight.”
Benita glanced at Foster. The vice president of academic affairs looked almost hopeless. She sensed his fear that the endowment was slipping from his fingers. “Aunt Helen, you have to agree to this ceremony. I came all the way back from L.A. for it.”
“I told you before you came that I didn't want a fuss. Don't you remember?” Ms. Helen sighed her exasperation. “And you say I'm going senile.”
Benita's face filled with heat. “I never said you were senile.”
Lana chimed in. “Of course you're not senile, Doctor Gaston. That's ridiculous. What you are is unreasonable.”
“Because I don't want a party?” Ms. Helen sniffed.
“You're putting your discomfort with this tribute ahead of students' needs.” Lana locked gazes with Ms. Helen. “That's not the Doctor Gaston I remember.”
Benita's eyebrows rose.
Oh, Lana Penn was good.
Foster raised a hand. His manner was urgent. “Lana, perhaps we can find a suitable compromise.”
The researcher gathered her coat and purse, and rose to her feet. “I'm not compromising on this, Foster. The endowment is a considerable donation that I want to ensure is invested appropriately.”
Foster lowered his hand. “I agree with your concerns, Lana—”
“The applicants for the chair have to fully appreciate the commitment required. We can't ask that of them unless we showcase Doctor Gaston's deeds.” Lana turned to Ms. Helen. “I do hope you reconsider.”
After Lana left his office, Foster broke the silence. “Our chemistry department could really use this funding, Doctor Gaston.”
“I know.” Tension vibrated from Ms. Helen in thick waves.
Benita looked from Foster to her great-aunt. “What are you going to do?”
“I don't know.” Ms. Helen smoothed the thick chignon at the nape of her neck. “Lana is making me out to be some kind of patron saint of chemistry. I was far from that. I was just a teacher, doing the best I could for my students.”
“What bullshit.” Benita sighed.
“Benita!” Ms. Helen's sharp, dark eyes were wide with surprise.
“You were a black woman who earned a doctorate in the nineteen-sixties so she could teach chemistry at the college level.” Benita willed her great-aunt to recognize her own accomplishments. “You earned a
doctorate
during Jim Crow and before women were even allowed to vote.”
Ms. Helen frowned. “I know—”
“I don't think you do,” Benita continued. “You were raised at a time when women were taught to be humble and modest. The meek shall inherit the earth. Well, forget that.”
“Benita, have you lost your mind?” Ms. Helen's scowl darkened.
Benita spoke over her great-aunt. “This is about more than students and academic endowments. It's about celebrating your accomplishments, Doctor Gaston. You achieved them during some of the darkest days in our history and inspired our next generation to succeed. Now, what are you going to do?”
Ms. Helen sighed. “Let me think about it.”
“I trust you'll make the right decision.” Benita scooped up her belongings and stood. She turned to Foster. “We'll be in touch.”
Foster stood and shook their hands. “Thank you both for coming. Doctor Gaston, I look forward to your decision.”

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