Queen Bee Goes Home Again (24 page)

“I saw a cute little diner near the courthouse.”

“Good call.”

Tommy had a huge cheeseburger while I ate my veggie plate (if you can call three starches and some green beans a vegetable plate, which they did), then he headed home and I headed for the deeds room and the tax commissioner's office.

At four forty-five, Tommy pulled up by the bench where I was sitting in front of the courthouse, enjoying a cool mountain breeze.

“Hey, good-lookin',” he called through the open passenger window. “Can I take you to supper?”

I stood. “That depends. Where?”

He lifted a brimming picnic basket from home. “At our elegant accommodations.” The Best Eastern motel in the next town on our list.

“It's a date.” I opened the door, then climbed in and buckled up. “How'd it go with Miss Mamie?”

“Great.” He let off the brake, then headed for the next town, only twenty minutes away, carefully keeping to the speed limit. “She welcomed me home, asked how long I'd be there, then said she'd pack us some supper for me to take back. Didn't even mention the backpack or why I was there. Just went to the kitchen till I came to say good-bye, then kissed me and handed me the basket.” His stomach growled, prompting him to reach under the clean tea towel atop the basket wedged between us and extract a fried chicken leg. “Sorry, but gold makes me hungry.”

Shades of Midas.

My own stomach growled, too, so I helped myself. “Oh, goodie. All legs.” Yuummm. Tommy's and my favorite.

“She sent her love.”

After we'd finished our snack, Tommy shot me a sidelong glance. “So how was your afternoon?”

“Perfect. I was able to trace the lands' ownership back more than a hundred years. I even collected recent comparable sales. Not that there were many. The bottom's dropped out of this market, too. Then I found out the taxes had been paid a month before Daddy went to the Home. Won't be due again till December.”

“That's a relief.” He threaded his fingers through his hair. “Let's go hole up in our room, eat supper, and go to bed. I don't mind telling you, all this excitement has worn me slap out.”

“Me, too.”

Fortunately, the motel was just ahead. Once there, we washed up, then devoured our chicken, deviled eggs, broccoli slaw, and potato salad with plenty of decaf diet cola from the vending area.

We were both out like a light by nine.

The next morning while we grumbled about who would shower first, Tommy accused me of snoring like a chain saw. (True.)

I retaliated by informing him that he did, too. (True!)

Then we laughed, and he let me go first, because both of us knew I took really quick showers.

We had a very good breakfast at a morning place on the square, then headed for the bank.

Did we find deeds?

Yes. In all fourteen of the banks, for a total of nineteen, ranging from three to fifty acres.

Were the taxes paid?

All but two, which had been snapped up on the courthouse steps by the sheriff's son-in-law in one case, and a mayor in the other.

Was there gold?

Can we say
amen
? More of the same in every blessed Tyvek envelope, halleluiah!

And every afternoon, Tommy took what we'd found home while I researched titles, comparables, and taxes.

When the weekend came, we gratefully returned to our own beds in Mimosa Branch to rest, then set out again the next Monday morning.

And Miss Mamie, she don't ask nothin'.

Based on the sales slips we had found in Daddy's office, he'd bought the troy ounce Krugerrands for just a few dollars over the cost of their gold, which was only thirty-two dollars back then. Heaven only knew how much they were worth now that we'd found them. If they were genuine. As his mind failed, Daddy had trusted some real crooks.

But the gold pieces had to be real. I couldn't bear to think that we'd all been cheated along with him.

Twice, on banks nine and ten, Tommy was so tired of driving back and forth that he'd tried to lock the loot up in the motel safes, saying only that the contents of the envelopes were very valuable. But both of the motel managers said they could only be responsible for a maximum of five hundred dollars.

“If I hadn't had a program,” Tommy confessed when he got back in the truck after the second try, “I'd have poked that guy in the nose. But I realized he was just doing his job and trying to make a living. Liability coverage has gone sky-high for everyone. I can't imagine what it must cost for a motel.”

I cocked my head at him in admiration. “You really have grown up, haven't you?”

He nodded, his expression content. “I like being a grown-up and living in truth instead of self-serving lies.” He let out a harsh chuckle. “I still have a lot of amends to make for taking advantage of Miss Mamie and the General. And you.”

That didn't sound healthy, to me. “I forgive you, and I'm sure the Mame and Daddy do, too. Why do you have to keep on making amends?”

“I
want
to make them,” he told me, and I thought of how he'd shaved Daddy almost every day and considered that time with him a gift.

He really
had
changed. If only I could be more like him. “Wow.”

“It gives me a purpose,” my brother added. “I can do the work at the house, and that makes me feel useful. Even if I get elected, I'll still take care of the house for Miss Mamie.”

We'd never talked this way, and I wasn't sure how to respond. It seemed wonderful and dangerous at the same time. I didn't want to mess this up.

So I changed the subject. “What do you think we should do with the gold? I can see you're worn out.”

“We'll stick with the plan.” He let out a brief yawn.

“I can drive, too, you know. Why don't I take the stuff home, and you can search the records.”

That hit a nerve. “Not. I'd drive to Miami and back before I'd face all those books and papers and know-it-alls. You do the research, I'll do the road.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

We ate a companionable lunch saturated with trans fats, then he dropped me at the courthouse and headed for Mimosa Branch.

As we went from one bank to the next, we had a lot of time to talk in the truck, mostly about what to do with the money from the coins. A new roof was priority one. And foam insulation in the attic.

And a private nurse for Daddy and Uncle B.

We decided that insulated windows would have to wait till we got some estimates, to see what that would cost. Fourteen-thirty-one Green Street had a
lot
of windows. Every time I tried to count them up, I lost track.

“And a maid for Miss Mamie,” I added as we headed for bank number twelve. “No, make that a cleaning crew.”

“Good luck with that,” Tommy said. “I can hear the Mame already: ‘I will not allow a herd of perfect strangers to poke around in my house or my things. They might steal. Or carry tales. No, it'll have to be somebody with references I know.'”

All of whom were either too decrepit or booked solid.

Discussing the money, we both laughed a lot, proposing wilder and wilder possibilities. We started by being practical with solar electricity, but ended up taking Daddy and Uncle B and the Mame to a spa in Bali.

It sure felt good to laugh in the midst of our search.

Somewhere in the course of our journey, we came to be friends. Enough so, that I felt free to tell Tommy about my physical obsession with Connor. “I'm afraid I'll end up being the scarlet woman for real. He turns me on so hard, I can't think straight.”

“The guy's a grown man,” Tommy responded, “perfectly capable of weighing the pros and cons on his own. Give him some credit, Sissie-ma-noo-noo. He knows what he wants, and that's to date you so both of you can get to know each other better.”

I glanced to the trees and fields we passed. “I want him, too. But that doesn't mean it's right.” Pulled in both directions, I said, “Wanting isn't a decent criteria for a relationship.”

“Hence, the dating,” Tommy said.

As usual, my knee-jerk reaction was negative. “I just told you, I'm not sure I can control myself.”

What was wrong with this picture? Ten years ago, I'd wanted to hop in the bed with Mr. Wrong. Now I was wanting to stay
out
of bed with Mr. Right. “Oh, Lord. I can't do this.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I hereby officially butt out of this. You're secretly looking for a scapegoat, and I refuse to take the blame if things don't work out. From now on, what happens between you and Connor is your business, not mine.”

Now, that sounded like the old Tommy.

“Say what you mean,” I shot back, “but don't be mean when you say it.” The slogan came from my enabler's group, probably stolen from AA.

I turned to look out the side window, my feelings ruffled. But the thing was, he could be right.

This time, it was Tommy who broke the silence. “That said, Connor seems to be what he appears to be: a decent, upright, intelligent, committed Christian. Who lives next door. Who's smitten with you.” He finally shot me a sidelong grin. “Not that I'm pushing him on you. It's just that my instincts tell me he's an okay guy.”

So much for butting out.

I nodded. “Instincts noted.” After a pause, I couldn't help adding, “What about his congregation? You know how a lot of them feel about me.”

Tommy let out a brief snort of exasperation. “If you're willing to give up someone like Connor because of what
some
people
might
think about you, then that's your decision. Just be honest with yourself about why the gossips' opinions mean more to you than Connor.”

“It's not me I'm thinking about,” I defended. “It's Connor. This job means a lot to him. I don't want to be responsible for jeopardizing that.”

Tommy shook his head. “So that's what you're telling yourself, is it?”

My compulsion to be justified let loose a barrage of self-defensive reasons for why I was being noble.

My brother waited till I was done, then granted me a gentle smile. “Suppose you decided to go out with Connor. How does that make you feel?”

I thought a minute before I responded, my mind buzzing with inner voices inserting their pros and cons. I finally told Tommy what the voice that shouted loudest over the din was saying. “Terrified.”

He nodded. “And why is that?”

“Because I might really cost him his job. And what if we broke up afterward, making it all in vain?”

“You sure are good at projecting dire consequences,” he told me. “Have you ever considered just living in today? Being grateful for the good things in just this day, doing the next right thing, and leaving the future to God?”

My enabler's group stressed the same thing. It made a lot more sense than constantly worrying about what
might
go wrong. “Maybe I will.”

“Forget maybe,” he said. “Either you will, or you won't. But trust me, you don't have to be an alcoholic for it to work.”

I knew that. “I don't want to be a minister's wife,” I finally blurted out. “I can't. I don't play the piano, and little kids scare me to death. I talk too much without thinking first, and I'm too selfish, nobody's idea of a minister's wife.”

“Except the minister's,” Tommy corrected.

Aye, there's the rub.

“We have a lot to be grateful for,” my brother coaxed. “All that gold and land and money. Rent-free accommodations. We can get out of bed every morning and walk and talk and see and hear.”

Now he was getting corny.

“And we have Mama's cooking,” he went on. “And both of our parents.”

I skewed my mouth. “Well, we don't really have Daddy anymore.”

Instead of being annoyed, Tommy grinned. “So we still have one and a half of our parents, then.”

He always knew how to make me laugh.

“Okay. I give in. I'll try it one day at a time.” I faced him. “But what about all those dark voices that go through my thoughts?”

“Just tell them they're liars, and to shut up. I swear, it works. Then do something useful to distract yourself.”

Kiss!
my inner hedonist called like a siren, Connor's arms and face and taste materializing in my brain.
Kiss, kiss, kiss
.

That's not what Tommy meant,
my Puritan scolded.

I shook my head, but it didn't clear the din. “If you knew how many pieces of me were chattering away in my brain,” I told my brother, “you might have
me
committed.”

“Trust me,” Tommy reassured me. “You are not crazy. After all these years in AA, not to mention Daddy and our uncles, I know crazy, and you're not it. A bit self-absorbed at times, but definitely not crazy.”

“Thank you for the psych evaluation,” I said with one brow arched in skepticism. “
Doctor
Breedlove.”

We rode in awkward silence for the next mile or so till I couldn't stand the tension anymore. “With this one-day-at-a-time thing, am I allowed to ask about what we're doing tomorrow?”

Tommy chuckled. “Yes, you are. Plans are great, as long as we're flexible about what happens.” He took a bank key out of the bare ashtray, then glanced at it. “Tomorrow is Gay First Federal in Meriwether County.”

I frowned in confusion. Meriwether County was rural and conservative. “They have a gay bank in Meriwether County?”

Who says there are no stupid questions?

Tommy laughed. “No. The town is Gay, Georgia. Daddy's one aberration from stashing his stuff in county seats.”

I broke up, envisioning sidewalks teeming with drag queens. “I can't wait to see it.”

Tommy wasn't amused. “If we find more gold and deeds, I'll take you to Greenville to go through the records while I run the stuff back home.”