Nan Dixon - Southern Comforts

“I’m in hog heaven.”

She groaned. “Gray.”

“Georgia’s great.” He nodded. “The bed-and-breakfast I’m staying at is fascinating. Built in the early 1800s, so you’d feel right at home.”

“I hope you’re not implying anything about my age, dear.”

His laugh echoed in the cavernous room. It sounded—rusty. “Never.”

“Well, no matter how lovely Savannah is, I could never live there. Boston has always been home.”

His mother had grown up in Maine, but he let it go.

“How’s your warehouse?” she asked.

“A disaster.”

“I hear that glee in your voice. You can’t wait to get started.”

“You know me too well.”

“Well, don’t be too much of a perfectionist. I would like to see you sometime. I know you said you’d be there for six months, but you will come home, won’t you? It is possible I might miss my only son.”

And he would miss her. If he was here long enough, he might even miss his sister, Courtney, but not if she kept pushing Gwen his way.

“I’m sure I’ll come home, but why don’t you and Dad come down for a long weekend? I can work something out with the B and B. If my breakfast today was an example, you won’t push away from the table unhappy. Pick a weekend.”

“Your father and I will discuss it.”

“Savannah is amazing,” he said, trying to entice her.

Yesterday, he’d driven through tree-lined streets around squares filled with statues, fountains and people. “I walked to work this morning.” He sighed. “February, and I wore a light jacket.”

The city had sparkled. The air had been cool but springlike. The stress had sluiced off him like paint peeling off a roller. “Come down. Bring Dad and that little pest, Courtney, too.”

“She’s the reason I called.”

“What’s she done now?” He watched a container ship chug up the river.

“Rather, it’s what she says you’ve done. Did you really leave town without telling Gwendolyn?”

“We broke up.” He turned away from the window, fingers choking the phone. “We haven’t seen each other for over two weeks.”

If what he and Gwen had had was special, he should miss her by now. All he felt was relief.

“Gwen’s from such a good family,” his mother said. “I’d hoped you’d suit. She’s lovely and her manners are impeccable.”

Gwen was his match, born of the right people, as his mother would say. She’d forced him to think about more than work. Forced him to get out and do things. She loved parties, loved having throngs of people around her. And she rarely took no for an answer.

Her constant need to be with people, to party, had worn him down. That wasn’t how he wanted to spend his life. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but it wasn’t crowds of people. Peace seemed too nebulous a desire.

“We don’t fit together.” Gray rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the itch that ran up his spine. Why couldn’t he commit? “I’m not ready to settle down.”

“Perhaps absence will make the heart grow fonder. Her mother and I would love to plan a wedding.”

Her words were like the plop of slushy Boston snow invading the collar of his coat.

“I’m not ready to get married,” he said. “My life’s exactly the way I want it.”

“If your life was perfect, I’d have grandchildren.”

“So talk to Courtney.”

The picture of Gwen as a mother didn’t materialize. Abby’s colorful skirt floating around dynamite legs flashed through his mind. He shook his head, but the image stayed.

“You’re thirty-three,” his mother began. It was a familiar refrain and not one he wanted to listen to again.

A door banged, rescuing him.

“The contractor is here.” Finally. “I’ll call when I can.”

No time to argue grandkids with his mother. He had a building to finish.

* * *

CHERYL CLOSED THE back door of her car with her hip. “Here’s your backpack,” she said, handing Joshua the Spider-Man bag filled with his few toys.

They walked through a garden leading from the B and B’s small parking lot. God, her car looked out of place among the guests’ late-model SUVs and luxury sedans.

Her car was more rust than metal. The gray hood didn’t match the green paint on the rest of the body. And it sucked gas and oil like a drunk with a bottle of hooch. But it ran.

They passed a small table in a secluded section of the courtyard. The table was all but hidden from the house and the rest of the grounds. This would work.

She swallowed. “Okay. Wait here for me.” She pulled out Josh’s crayons and a pad of paper. “Draw a picture. I won’t be long.”

Josh looked up at her, his big brown eyes so like Brad’s her heart ached. “Can’t I come with you?”

“I wish you could, but I have to talk to a woman about working here.” She had to get this job. To keep Josh safe, she had to earn a living. She couldn’t go back.

“The rainbow house?”

“Yes, the rainbow house.” She knelt and cupped his cheeks. “Don’t talk to anyone. If you get scared, run to the car and lock yourself in.”

“Like you taught me when Uncle Levi smelled funny and got mean.” He looked solemn and older than a five-year-old ever should. “I run fast, jump in the car and slam down the lock.”

“Yup.” She was a terrible mother, leaving her son alone in a strange place like this. She brushed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried around the corner of the house and up the stairs.

The entry was empty. She pushed the buzzer on the desk.

The house was big. She hadn’t really noticed the day before. When they’d walked up the steps, Joshua had spotted the rainbows and taken off before she could get much sense of their surroundings.

“Can I help you?” An older woman came down the hall.

“I’m here to see...” Her mind went blank.

“Are you Cheryl? No last name?” the woman filled in.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re here to see me. I’m Marion. Last name Winters.”

“Cheryl Henshaw.” After running from Atlanta, she’d decided to use her mother’s maiden name. Levi shouldn’t be able to find them, since he’d never heard the name before.

Marion pointed to a small parlor. “We can talk in here.”

“This house is beautiful.” The words rushed out.

“That it is. And it takes dedication and elbow grease to keep it that way.”

The rich smell of coffee mingled with the scent of lemon wood polish. Cheryl stared at a tray with two coffee mugs and a plate of banana bread. The aromas intensified her light-headedness, and she sank onto the sofa.

“Take a sip.” Marion pointed. “You won’t find coffee this good at any of those chain places.”

“Thank you.”

Marion picked up a second mug. “Are you from around here?”

“Atlanta most recently. Before that, Fort McPherson, though I grew up in Richmond.” Cheryl took a sip. “Oh, this is good.”

“How many years have you been cleaning?” Marion asked her.

Cheryl took another sip and then set her mug down. “I’ve cleaned all my life, but I’ve never...been paid to clean.”

“Oh.” Marion frowned.

“I know how to work hard. I won’t let you down.” Please, please, please.

Marion watched her, not saying a word.

Cheryl figured the interview was over. Sighing, she grabbed her wallet. Her Coach purse, a gift from Brad, had been hocked along with her wedding ring. She knew Brad would have understood; she needed to keep Josh safe.

She stood.

Where are you going?” Marion asked.

“I...assumed...” She pointed out of the room.

“Sit on down. Have a piece of that banana bread.”