The Reading Circle (18 page)

His reaction was dramatic, even overly so as he looked up into the heavens for a brief moment, gesturing with his hands outstretched. “Why, Peri, how could you think such a thing? I wouldn't ask you to keep my books. You'd have to volunteer. I know you've got The Twinkle to run.”

“Glad you brought that up,” she continued. “When we first married, I had nothing. Now I have The Twinkle and all its resources. Naturally, a good businesswoman wants to protect herself.”

He went from gesturing broadly at the sky to drawing in his arms and hunkering down close to the table as if concentrating on a poker hand. “What are you getting at, Peri?”

“If this really is all about being in love the second time around, I don't think you'll mind proving it to me,” she told him.

“My word isn't good enough?”

“Why don't we go inside where there's more light?” she added, rising from the table and heading through the door onto the dance floor.

He followed her lead, but she could tell by the sound of his boots stomping close behind her on the planks that he was agitated. “Peri, I'm serious here. Let's don't play games now.”

“My sentiments exactly,” she said, walking over to her purse, which she'd left on one of the bar stools. She turned and handed him the official-looking document she'd just retrieved.

“What's this?” He took it and scanned it quickly, and she watched the expression on his face change from curious to angry. “A prenuptial agreement? Are you serious?”

“Perfectly.”

“But why?”

She leaned against the bar stool and held her chin up to strengthen her resolve. “If you truly love me as you say you do, you won't mind signing that agreement. That way, I'll know I'm not merely an investment.”

“Peri,” he said, his tone almost defiant, “I can't believe you would do this to me. You're treating me like a stranger. This tells me you don't trust me at all. You say you've forgiven me for my past, but obviously you haven't.”

“Then you're not going to sign it?”

“Hell, no!” Impulsively and with a great deal more force than was necessary, he tore the papers in half, letting them fall to the floor in front of her feet. “I don't know what I've done to deserve this!”

Periwinkle studied his face closely, looking for signs of hurt around the eyes. Instead, all she saw were narrowed slits of anger. She needed him to show her something besides rage, some indication that he truly had become a more stable and responsible person.

“I've earned the right to feel secure about my life,” she explained after she saw he was content just to stand there fuming. “I've worked too hard. Can't you understand that? If I've proved one thing since we split up, it's that I can make it on my own. And don't think for a minute that it hasn't been a struggle. But I can't go back to the way things were when I was dependent upon you for everything. If you can't accept the new me, then we shouldn't get married.” She bent down and gathered up the torn pieces of paper, gesturing with them gently when she had them all in hand. “I think this answers my question. I was hoping against hope it wouldn't come to this.”

For a brief unsettling moment as he made a fist of his right hand and lifted it to his face, she thought he might be getting ready to strike her. But he quickly dropped it to his side and exhaled. “I sure as hell didn't see this coming. You going to Curtis Trickett and everything!”

She glanced down at the floor, concentrating on his boots as she spoke. “I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, Harlan. But I did what I had to do.”

“So you're saying you have no feelings for me at all? These past few months have meant nothing to you?” he said, softening his tone.

When she looked up again, she saw that he had reworked his face, removing the anger and replacing it with those bedroom eyes she had become reacquainted with over the past few months. “You've dredged up some of those old feelings, yes. I give you credit for that. But sometimes it's felt to me more like a campaign instead of a real romance.”

“Man,” he said, shaking his head. “I had no idea you'd become so cynical and suspicious.”

He was good at this—she had to admit. But she refused to let him throw it all back on her. “You can describe me that way if you want. Maybe it's more that I suffered a lot a' damage last time, and I'll never be the same. Harlan, I think the bottom line here is we need to continue going our separate ways. But I thank you for thinking of me and I wish you well.”

With that, she stuffed the pieces of the prenuptial agreement into her purse, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and walked away without looking back. But he could not see that there were tears in her eyes as she headed out of the restaurant toward the parking lot. It all felt like she was doing the right thing, of course, but there was still some small part of her that kept wishing he had behaved differently and given her a different message. Being successful but lonely was a hard lot in life.

M
aura Beth could not help but observe that Mrs. Johnnie-Dell Crews was not one to get to the point. This tall, gaunt woman who disdained makeup and grooming obviously liked to hear herself talk and had been doing so for some time now. Of course, nothing she was saying was remotely of interest to her three visitors, who were being mightily tested as they sat politely at attention around her kitchen table sipping coffee.

Finally, it was Miss Voncille who drew the line. “Johnnie-Dell, I'm sure we all appreciate your daily trials and tribulations at Cherico High. Lest you forget, I endured them as well during my many years of teaching history in those not-so-hallowed, institutional green halls. But if you don't mind, we'd like to hear about the faculty openings.”

Both Maura Beth and Jeremy managed subtle sighs of relief, even as they were holding hands under the table. They had been eagerly awaiting word from Miss Voncille's former cohort for the past couple of weeks, and now the moment had come at last, though unfolding far more slowly than they had ever imagined. Twenty minutes earlier they had received a largely confusing and forgettable grand tour of the Crews Family cottage, courtesy of the self-absorbed lady of the house. Then again, Johnnie-Dell Crews had always been known for her many rambling, stream-of-consciousness observations.

“And this room my husband and I always called the knitting corner,” she had told everyone at one point during the tour. “I forget why. You might think this shawl I have around my shoulders is my own work, but I don't knit, and neither did Porter, of course. And it isn't a corner, as you can see. It's more like a nook. Porter did keep all his books in here. Maybe we should have called it the library. But we didn't.”

Her visitors had exchanged knowing glances with each other and dutifully followed her around from room to room, keeping their comments to themselves. The truth was, nothing in the house seemed coordinated or compatible with anything else. Wall colors clashed with curtains and window treatments, which did not match lampshades or throw rugs or knickknacks perched on shelves.

“Everyone's always suspected she's color-blind,” Miss Voncille did manage to whisper to Maura Beth and Jeremy, briefly taking them aside.

Finally, however, the tour mercifully ended. Now came the task of extracting that much-anticipated information about the makeup of the Cherico High faculty for the fall semester.

“Oh, about the openings,” Johnnie-Dell said at last in response to Miss Voncille's prodding. “It appears we have two. But one's for shop teacher, so I don't think Mr. McShay here would be qualified for that. I think shop is barbaric, myself. One year we had a young man cut off his thumb on the jigsaw. His parents sued the school and won because the shop teacher, Mr. Barringer, had gone outside to smoke a cigarette and wasn't keeping an eye on his students. The other opening, however, may be just what you're looking for. You'd be teaching sophomore English. That's such a difficult age with all the hormones kicking in. It does make you think coed classes may be a bit of a mistake. I went to an all-girl's college myself. There are pros and cons to that, of course. Voncille has told me you teach juniors now, is that right?”

Maura Beth squeezed Jeremy's hand tightly as the good news dramatically straightened his posture. “Yes, I've taught junior English from the very beginning at New Gallatin Academy.”

“More coffee?” Johnnie-Dell put in suddenly, causing everyone to blink at the non sequitur.

“Just refill us all around and get on with it,” Miss Voncille said, fidgeting in her chair. “You used to do this all the time in the teacher's lounge, Johnnie-Dell. We'd run out of doughnuts by the time you'd gotten to the point of one of your stories.”

Johnnie-Dell looked momentarily as if she might be taking offense at the remark but seemed to shrug it off and efficiently performed her hostess duties. “As to the opening,” she eventually continued, “it came up at the last minute, you see. Apparently, Miss Dawn Hefferly is getting married, as many of these young teachers will do. She'd only been with us for a year, though. Quite the flirt walking down the halls, I noticed. It's hard to keep track of them sometimes. At any rate, Mr. McShay, you're getting this heads-up a trifle early, so please get your résumé in right away.”

“I intend to,” Jeremy said, smiling at Maura Beth all the while.

“You won't find a better teacher anywhere,” Maura Beth said. “He has some wonderful ideas about making classical literature come to life for his students. For instance, he organizes field trips to the hometowns of some of our great Southern writers. They get to see for themselves where the writer grew up and then walk in his footsteps. Or hers, as is very often the case here in the South.”

Johnnie-Dell's long face became even more exaggerated. “You know, it isn't easy to pull these kids away from their cell phones and laptops and all that paraphernalia these days. Sometimes I think the culture has just hit rock bottom, and I wonder what we'll be leaving behind for future generations.”

Jeremy caught her gaze and nodded enthusiastically. “I couldn't agree with you more, Mrs. Crews. All my life I've felt I was born in the wrong century. It seems to me we're communicating with each other more but making less and less sense. That's no sort of legacy.”

Johnnie-Dell seemed impressed. “You certainly don't hear that out of the mouths of the young people these days. Oh, the bad grammar and the profanity—don't get me started!”

“Jeremy here is a delightful throwback to more chivalrous times,” Maura Beth said. “I can personally vouch for that.”

“Well, if that's the case, I truly hope you get the position, young man,” Johnnie-Dell added. “I have only one more year until my retirement—and then I don't know what I'll do with myself, or maybe I should actually take up knitting in my knitting corner—but I would certainly enjoy having someone like you on the faculty to talk to. In fact, I'd be glad to put in a good word for you, if you'd like.”

Jeremy was beaming, leaning against Maura Beth to further accentuate the bond between them. “That would just be fantastic, Mrs. Crews. We—I mean, Maura Beth and I, couldn't thank you enough!”

 

During the two-week period between Maura Beth's most recent appearance and the upcoming last scheduled meeting before the City Council, she forced herself to go to work every day like the dedicated professional she was. Though the library remained closed to the public, she had accounts to close and books to balance. It was a grim task for the most part, but she kept telling herself that it would all be worth it in the end. And, in fact, she continued to receive phone calls and letters from concerned citizens about the status of the library, including most everyone who had ever attended a meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club. All of them wanted to know what they could do to help, and Maura Beth told each of them the same thing:
Just sit tight and I'll get back to you very soon, I promise.
These testimonials and offers of assistance she intended to present to Councilman Sparks and company in a few more days, alongside the rest of the plan that she and Nora Duddney had devised a little while back. That was what kept the fire going in her belly and enabled her to get through such a trying period when her future was very much in doubt.

Then came an unsolicited visit from Connie and Douglas McShay one afternoon, after they had called ahead to make sure she was going to be there. “We have some very exciting news for you,” Connie told her over the phone. “But Douglas and I want to run it past you in person.”

Maura Beth felt it was her duty to give them a tour of the storm damage just after they had arrived, however. “It's one big soggy mess,” she said, leading them to the distressing sight. “I'm so tired of looking at it. I keep thinking of all those soaked easy readers as so many drowned children. Isn't that an awful image to have inside my head all the time?”

“I'm sure it is. But that's why we're here,” Douglas told her, patting her on the shoulder as they all turned their backs and walked away from ground zero with its warped books and stale, moldy smells. “We fully intend to help you do something about it.”

It was at the meeting room table a few minutes later that Maura Beth revealed the drastic intentions of City Hall regarding the library, but she thought it best to keep to herself the forthcoming surprise attack.

Both Douglas and Connie gave each other conspiratorial smiles, and he said, “There can't be any doubt that all of us Cherry Cola people are connected in some mysterious way. We were all meant to meet and help each other out, I'm convinced of it, because our timing couldn't be more perfect.”

Connie gave him a nudge and patted her hair. “Tell her the good news and stop pontificating like Nostradamus, for heaven's sake.”

He put his hand up to calm her down and then leaned in to Maura Beth. “It's as simple as this. Both Connie and I have done well in life, and we have more money than we'll ever need. I was telling Connie a while back that I felt we ought to truly make ourselves a part of Cherico, since this is where we'll be spending the rest of our lives. We want to do something good for this little town, and we can't think of a better way than to help you patch up your wounded library. Now that we've found out City Hall is balking—no surprise, I might add—we'd like to donate whatever it takes to make these repairs and get the library back on its feet. Do you have an estimate, by the way?”

Maura Beth nodded and began writing on one of the squares of scratch paper she always kept at the table for staff meetings, such as they were. Then she handed it over to Douglas. “Those two figures represent the total cost of repairs and the out-of-pocket expenses City Hall will need to come up with.”

Douglas scanned it eagerly and showed it to Connie, who brought her hands together with a bright smile on her face. “Piece a' cake,” she said.

“Yes, we can handle that,” he added. “In fact, we'd consider it an honor to contribute and leave something behind this way.”

Maura Beth struggled to keep the emotion out of her voice but failed miserably. “I don't know what to say.” She paused for a deep, cleansing breath. “But I do, of course. You have no idea how much this strengthens my position with the councilmen. I'm just two days away from what they think will be my final appearance before them. I can't begin to thank both of you enough.”

After their departure, Maura Beth picked up the phone and brought Nora Duddney up to speed on the latest development.

“You know, I think we just might be able to pull this off!” Nora exclaimed.

“Well, it's do or die, isn't it?” Maura Beth said. “I'm either going to spend the rest of my career here in Cherico or leave town and never look back.”

 

“Miz Mayhew and Miz Duddney are here to see you,” Lottie Howard announced to Councilman Sparks over the intercom.

There was genuine surprise in the compressed voice coming from the inner office. “Miz Duddney? Nora Duddney?” There was a significant pause. “Take me off the intercom, please.”

Lottie complied, picked up the receiver, and began listening to her boss. Then she repeated his instructions to the visitors. “Councilman Sparks wants to know what business you have with him today, Miz Duddney?”

Nora patted Maura Beth on the shoulder and said, “I'm with Miz Mayhew, and she's with me. We're a package deal. That's pretty much it.”

Lottie shot her a skeptical glance and repeated Nora's words through the phone. “He says he'll be with you in a minute. Wouldn't you both like to take a seat?”

“No, thanks,” Maura Beth told her. “We wouldn't want to get too comfortable, you know.”

Lottie's skepticism turned into an acute frown as she hung up the receiver. “Have it your way, then.”

After another five minutes had passed, Councilman Sparks entered the outer office with his customary vote-getting smile affixed to his face. Maura Beth noted, however, that it disappeared in an instant as he greeted his visitors.

“Nora?” His tone was incredulous, his expression one of astonishment. He gestured toward the inner office reflexively but could not take his eyes off of his former secretary.

Even after everyone had been seated around his desk behind closed doors, he continued to stare, and it was with tremendous satisfaction that Maura Beth saw clearly that once again Councilman Sparks had been caught off guard. The last time that had happened, everything had gone her way. She could only hope for the same results today.

“If you don't mind my saying so, Nora,” he said at last, “I wouldn't have recognized you if I'd passed you on the sidewalks of Commerce Street. What have you done to your hair and your face? Have you, uh, had one of those girlie-girl makeovers or something like that?”

“Something like that,” she said, as she and Maura Beth exchanged thoroughly amused glances.

Sounding somewhat tentative, Councilman Sparks continued. “Miz Mayhew, I thought this session was to be strictly between yourself and the City Council.”

Maura Beth looked around the room, gesturing with a sweep of her hand. “So it was. So where are Mr. Badham and Mr. Martin? I thought they were attached to you at the left and right hips.”

Councilman Sparks cleared his throat and sat up a bit in his chair. “Very funny. I have Chunky and Gopher Joe attending to other duties elsewhere. I'm taking care of this myself. That's all you need to know. Meanwhile, even though I have no idea why it's necessary for you to be here, Nora, I think the time has come for us to get down to business.”

“I couldn't agree with you more,” Maura Beth said. “So let's get this started, shall we?”

Councilman Sparks extended his hand with an expectant expression. “You have the documents I requested?”