Chapter 7
Seven
Floy came home with a full belly, the satisfaction of knowing divorce was in progress, and a new job waiting on the horizon. As he slowed down to take the turn up his driveway, he noticed the green beans were gone.
“Good. Now they won’t go to waste,” he said. He pulled up and parked at the edge of the road long enough to remove the “Free” sign and the two shelving planks. He tossed them in the truck bed, picked up the mail, and drove to the house. The first thing he did was send Myra Emory a text.
I am well enough to return to work. You had requested a quote on reroofing your house before my life turned inside out.
If you are no longer interested in my services, please let me know ASAP so I can schedule in a waiting client.
For your information, prices will be increasing due to the increased difficulties of material sourcing.
Floy Beaudine
Then he sat down at the kitchen table with a notepad, a pen, and his laptop.
He’d taken a photo of the shingles on Moe’s roof and had a clear idea of approximately how many they would need, then added a note to himself to order Sheetrock and enough white paint to redo the ceiling after the Sheetrock was replaced.
He laid his phone on the table so he could refer to the close-up photo of the style and color of Moe’s roof shingles and then opened his laptop and made a new customer file for Moses Benton.
Less than an hour later, Myra responded to his text.
Yes, I still want the quote, but I already know that I will hire you if you take the job. Stop by tomorrow after lunch to take the measurements. I’ll be here.
Myra.
The band around the betrayal he still held close slightly eased.
Yes, ma’am. See you then.
Floy.
He laid down his phone, swiped a hand over his face, and then picked up his truck keys. It was good news. He knew Beau and Razor were in town because he’d seen their truck in the parking lot of the Beers and Cues when he’d left town. He needed to let them know Floy’s Fix-It was back in business.
He drove straight to the bar, turned off the highway, dodging a big pothole as he drove across what was left of the gravel that once covered the lot, and parked near the front.
This time when he walked in, an old Brooks and Dunn song was playing.
Floy wondered if Jerry Adams had ever updated his music choices on his sound system.
Then he looked toward the bar and was surprised to see Jerry back on the job, minus his man boobs, and Mary Lou back in the kitchen flipping burgers on the grill.
“Hey, Jerry. Good to see you,” Floy said.
Jerry nodded. “Same to you. Heard you had some bad luck while I was AWOL.”
Floy nodded. “Yeah. It was a mess.”
Jerry glanced over his shoulder, making sure Mary Lou was out of earshot, then quietly muttered, “At least you didn’t get your titties cut off just to please your woman.”
Floy leaned against the bar. “No, but I came close to blowing my own brains out after I thought Elvis had swallowed my wife. Looking back now, I should have realized Elvis had better taste.”
They looked at each other and laughed, then Floy pointed to a pool table at back of the room.
“I see the Langley boys are in their office. I’m about to disturb their business for a minute.”
Beau was lining up a shot when he saw Floy approaching and stood up. “Hey, there’s the boss,” he said.
Razor looked over his shoulder then put down his cue stick.
“Hey, Floy. What’s going on?” Beau asked.
“We’re back in business. I’m going to give Myra her quote tomorrow, but she already said she wants the new roof, and Moe has a roof leak. It’s damaged the ceiling in his apartment, so we’ve got some work to do there, too. Are you still with me?”
They high-fived each other and then him. “Just say the word and we’re there,” Razor added.
Floy grinned. “Thanks. I thought it would be best to give you a heads- up. I’ll text you when the materials come in so we can start. If anyone asks, prices for the jobs are going up.”
Beau’s eyes widened. “Does that mean we’re gonna get a raise?”
Floy nodded. “Exactly that. I’ll be in touch.”
The brothers high-fived each other again as Floy exited the bar.
The process server Judge Benton used was on his way up the mountain to deliver divorce papers to Mayrene Beaudine, and he didn’t have time to waste. He had two other stops to make before his workday ended, and neither of them were anywhere close to town.
It was 9:45 a.m. when he pulled up in Quilla Schultz’s front yard and killed the engine. He got out with the envelope and went straight to the door.
Quilla was washing breakfast dishes, and Mayrene was running a dust mop on the living room floor when she heard the knock. She glanced out the window, saw a car parked in the front yard, and set the dust mop aside to go to the door.
The man was a stranger, but he wasn’t wearing a badge, and she considered that a plus.
“Mayrene Beaudine?”
“Yes, that’s me,” she said.
The process server handed her the envelope, then held out a clipboard and handed her a pen.
“Sign there, where it’s marked X.”
“Why?” she asked.
‘That’s just proof of delivery being made,” he said.
Mayrene’s red curls slid across her forehead as she leaned over a bit to scribble her name.
“Thank you, and have a nice day,” he said, and went back to his car.
Mayrene was shutting the door as Quilla walked into the room. “Who was that at the door?” she asked.
Mayrene held up the envelope in her hand. “Some kind of postman, I think, delivering a letter I had to sign for.”
“That’s not our postman’s car. Let me see,” Quilla said, and reached for the envelope.
Mayrene took a step back, her grip tightening on the envelope. “Mother! Seriously! It has my name on it,” she said, then plopped down on the sofa and pulled out the paperwork.
Within seconds, Quilla saw a dozen different expressions twisting her daughter’s face into a mirror of despair.
“Well?” Quilla said.
“Divorce papers.”
“Let me see,” Quilla said louder. “We might have a—”
“There is no ‘we’ here,” Mayrene said. “This is my loss. My fault. And after what I did to him, inevitable.”
Quilla frowned. “So, what do you do next?”
“They came from Judge Benson’s office. I will read and then sign the papers and return them, that’s what.”
“Just like that? Without even trying to get alimony?”
Mayrene looked up. “When I did what I did, I committed a crime. I didn’t know it at the time, but I did.
I Googled it. I’m probably going to get arrested for it.
I might even have to serve time. This divorce is the least of my worries.
All I know is that however it turns out, when it’s over, I’m leaving Blackjack.
I can’t look at you without remembering the look on Floy’s face when he told us about the video footage. ”
Quilla gasped. “But I only wanted what—”
“You didn’t have the right to control my adult life. I didn’t want what you wanted, but I let you have control, and here we are,” Mayrene said, then got up, dug an ink pen out of the drawer in a side table, signed the papers, and went to get her purse. “I’m borrowing the car.”
“I’ll drive you,” Quilla said.
“No, thank you. You’ve done quite enough. This is my marriage ending, not yours,” she said, and walked out the door.
Quilla’s heart was pounding erratically as she watched her daughter and her car disappear around the bend in the road. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Mayrene drove into Blackjack, down Main Street, and then took a right turn on Beulah Drive to the lawyer’s office, and parked. She met the process server coming out of Judge Benton’s office as she was walking in.
He blinked, surprised to see the woman he’d just served papers to.
She nodded and headed to Priscilla’s desk. “Priscilla, these are the signed divorce papers I was just served. I wasn’t sure what to do with them, so I brought them here.” Then she laid the envelope on the desk and walked out.
Priscilla’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
Moments later, Judge came out of his office. “I saw the process server return with the receipt, but I was on the phone.”
Priscilla handed him the signed receipt and the envelope Mayrene brought in. “Mayrene just dropped this off. She said it was the signed divorce papers. She didn’t know what to do with them, so she brought them here.”
Judge’s eyebrows arched abruptly. He quickly opened the envelope to check and saw the signatures in all the right places.
“Well, I’ll be danged. Never had this happen before,” he said.
Priscilla shrugged. “I guess when you don’t have a leg to stand on, there’s nothing to fight about.”
Mayrene drove back up the mountain with tears rolling down her cheeks. When she got back to her mother’s house, she laid the car keys on the counter, retrieved the dust mop she’d been using, and finished the job.
Quilla kept wanting to say something, but she had a horrible feeling all the words had been said.
Like Mayrene, she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
As promised, Floy arrived at Myra’s house the next day. Myra lived on the outskirts of Blackjack, less than ten minutes from the bus barn at the school where she worked. As soon as he pulled up into her yard, she came out on the front porch to meet him.
“Whoa,” Myra said, staring at Floy in disbelief, then gathered herself.
Floy didn’t know why Myra had said, “Whoa,” and he didn’t care.
“I’ll need a few measurements before I write up the quote,” he said, then pulled an extending ladder off the racks above his truck bed.
“You don’t have to stand out here in the heat.
I’ll knock on the door when I’m finished and give you a written quote to sign. ”
“All right then,” Myra said, and went back into the house.
Inside, she could hear him walking from one side of the roof to the other, pausing, then moving again until his footsteps stopped.
When he came to the door, he’d already put his ladder back on the truck racks and had a written quote, waiting for her approval and signature.