Chapter 21
D alia hadn’t seen Rose’s father since the day six years earlier when she’d told him she was pregnant. Every once a great while a thought of him would flash across her mind. It would occur to her that the man had no idea what he was missing by not wanting to have anything to do with his own child.
Rose was such sheer joy. But he’d never know that. All those years ago, when he found out Dalia was pregnant, he’d told her he didn’t have time for a kid. It was her senior year of high school; they’d been dating for six months; and he was a freshman in college.
He and Dalia had gone to the same school where he’d been a big-time football star.
He was a year ahead of her. All the girls drooled over him.
So when he asked Dalia out, she’d been thrilled, being only sixteen after all.
She’d been head-over-heels in love. He’d been screwing two other girls as well as her, as it turned out.
He’d gone on to be a football standout in college and had graduated to the pros.
Dalia didn’t watch football, but she did know he’d since married and had a child as well as another out-of-wedlock child.
At least, that was according to the gossip in town.
He didn’t live there anymore, though, playing for the Miami Dolphins.
That was a long way away. Good riddance, she thought.
“Mommy,” Rose said, interrupting Dalia’s thoughts, “I don’t want you and Grammy to come with me tomorrow when I learn to flip and stuff.”
“You don’t? Why not?”
“Cuz I wanna do it myself. Then when I get real good you can come and watch my show.”
“You’re going to have a ‘show’?”
“Ah huh. Me and the other kids. It’s called…” Rose had to think about that “…it’s called a extra-bittion.”
“Maybe an exhibition?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said. A extra-bittion.”
Dalia and Mamie exchanged knowing glances.
Their little girl was reaching that stage when a child wants to test independence.
They hadn’t expected that so soon, as Rose was only five.
But the girl had always done everything early – walking, talking, reading.
The grownups supposed they shouldn’t be surprised.
“Okay, honey,” Dalia said. “We’ll wait for the exhibition, unless you change your mind and want us to come sooner.”
“I won’t.”
They walked down the sidewalk on Main Street in town, Farmdale bustling with activity for a Monday morning.
Since her encounter with Brody on Friday night, Dalia’s weekend had passed quickly on one hand, what with Farmer’s Market on Saturday and a busy day baking on Sunday.
But the time had crawled with her ache to see Brody.
He’d called to tell her he’s been sent out of town to track down a thief who got away.
She hoped that was true and that she hadn’t misjudged him as a good guy.
Something told her there truly was a bad guy out there about to get caught.
She and her mama and her daughter had visited the gymnastics studio, having taken a tour of all its facilities. Rose had been thoroughly enchanted, asking question after question. Her class would start the next day.
Dalia and Mamie had quickly figured out that the “scholarship” Llayne O’Brien had told them about had been paid for by Llayne herself.
While talking to the owner, they pretended not to know that, doing Llayne the favor of respecting her desire for privacy.
Still, they greatly appreciated the gesture and made the owner promise to thank the “anonymous” giver.
After touring the studio, Dalia promised Rose a chocolate malt at the soda fountain in the Farmdale Drug Store. They’d left the studio and were walking the two blocks to the pharmacy when they passed the empty shop with a sign in the window saying, “Closed. Under construction.”
Dalia paused, reading the sign she’d seen a hundred times.
The building was owned by the mayor and president of Farmdale Bank, Vik Van Natter.
He and Dalia had a deal that as soon as she’d earned enough money, Mama Mamie’s Bakery would become a reality.
He’d been saving the space for her, a very generous thing for him to do considering Dalia suspected he could have rented it out by now.
She also suspected the rent he’d quoted her was below market value.
“Come on, love.” Having walked ahead, Mamie stopped, turned around, and coaxed her daughter. “It’s all right.”
Dalia looked at her watch. “You two go on. I need to stop at the bank. I’ll be there shortly.”
Mamie nodded, Rose waved, and they went on their merry way.
Dalia crossed the street and entered the bank, an old-time brick building she adored.
She loved Farmdale, a quintessential small farm town that had cropped up during the Victorian era.
The wide street was lined on each side with a building no more than three stories high, each storefront displaying its own unique architectural details.
Dalia had long had a charming, colorful design in mind for the front and interior of Mama Mamie’s Bakery.
She wiped the imaginary images from her mind as she opened the old brass door of the bank, which sat on the corner, the door being at an angle to both cross streets.
“Hi, Vilma.” Dalia knew the teller well from her frequent visits depositing cash into her account.
The teller stood at the marble-topped counter that spanned the length of the room, cutting it in half.
A black iron grill, the kind seen in banks in old western movies, ran the entire length of the counter.
Four open spaces in the grill indicated teller stations but, on this day, Vilma was the only bank employee in sight.
“Well, hello, Dalia. How are you today? And how is that adorable little girl of yours? And your mother?”
“We’re all doing fine, thank you.”
“I saw you down the street a bit ago coming out of the gymnastics studio. I take it Rose is going to take lessons.”
“Yes, she’s thrilled.”
“Oh my, that’s nice. You know, that gymnastics teacher got divorced last year and I hear she’s already in love with some guy from the university.”
“Well, good for her. I hope she’s happy.
” Usually Dalia enjoyed gossiping with Vilma but not today.
Anxious to do what she had to do, she said, “Listen Vilma, is Mr. Van Natter available by chance? I need to speak to him for a minute and then I need to get down to the drugstore. My mom and Rose are waiting for me.”
“Sure thing. Let me check.” Vilma punched a number on the speaker box at her side, her boss answered, and Dalia was invited right up.
Vilma went to the wooden half-door at the end of the counter and pushed it open.
“Go on up.” She motioned for Dalia to step in and go through the door that would take her to the stairs in the back. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks so much, Vilma.” Dalia headed for the narrow stairs she’d taken before.
Mr. Van Natter would have known someone was coming, she mused, from a mile away, what with the clunking noise footsteps made on the old wooden stairsteps, echoing throughout the enclosed space.
“Come in, come in!” he said, his voice booming jovially, as usual.
The rotund man in his late fifties stood in the small vestibule outside his office.
Always professionally dressed, he wore a summer suit, button-down shirt, tie, and breast pocket handkerchief.
A brass plate with gold embossed letters on the office’s heavy wood door announced who he was, which amused Dalia, as if he might be the one to forget his name.
“Hello, Mr. Van Natter. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Of course.” He ushered her inside and pointed to the leather wing-back chair that sat at the side of his desk, the one she’d sat in before when they’d made the arrangement for the bakery.
He sat down behind his desk and said, “Dalia, like I said before, please feel free to call me Vic. You’re a grown woman now. ‘Mr. Van Natter’ sounds so stuffy.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Van, I mean Mr. Vic…”
“You’re never going to call me plain Vic, are you?”
“No. Probably not. Anyway, Mr. Vic, this is difficult for me, so I’ll come right out with it. I’m not going to be able to pay for the bakery. I know you offered us a great deal, and I know you’ve been keeping it off the market for us. I’m so, so sorry. It isn’t going to work out.”
His brow furrowed as he looked away without speaking. It caught her off guard when he stood up and went to a window that looked out on Main Street.
“Dalia, come here a minute. Look down there.” His tone was gentle, even forgiving.
She did as he bid.
“I can see everything from here. I saw you come out of the studio down the street…” he pointed “…and saw you come in here while Mamie and Rose went down to the drugstore. Chocolate malts?”
“Why, yes.”
He chuckled. “That’s always been one of Mamie’s favorites.”
“I suppose you know most everything about folks in this town.”
He looked at her with his eyebrows raised.
“I know enough. But I don’t know what you were doing to earn that money.
You drove toward the city five days a week.
The sheriff told me that. Mamie’s story about you working in an upscale restaurant and making great money in tips is a fine story, but I fear it isn’t true. ”
She opened her mouth to speak with no idea what to say but he held up a hand to stop her. He pointed back at her chair, and they sat down again.
Leaning in on his elbows, he said, “Dalia, I’m going to tell you a story. I’d prefer you not repeat this story to anyone. Can you do that?”
She nodded despite her surprise.