Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
I t was ten past nine when Rose approached the doors of the Cracked Egg Cafe.
She welcomed the opportunity to get away from the house for a bit.
Brody’s recommendations, multiple phone calls, and estimates had provided her a template for an overall plan.
Two days had passed since she’d met Broome for coffee to go over the report.
A disaster specialist crew showed up early this morning to start work in the dining room. Over the weekend, family and friends, masked and covered in old clothes, helped load debris into a dumpster Broome ordered for delivery.
The leaning chimney repair was scheduled for next week. As for the termite issue in the ballroom, there was a three-week waiting list. Her name was on it. Brody’s contact for the electrical was out of town for a family wedding. His secretary promised to follow up as soon as he was back.
Magnolia’s letter, her confession, Rose’s true parentage—all of it weighed heavy on her mind whilst she made phone calls, set up appointments for the house, then drove into town.
Rose put her hand around the handle of the Cracked Egg Cafe’s glass door. The Elders would be inside, among them, Magnolia’s closest friends. She had questions to ask them.
The diner was a town favorite, open for breakfast and lunch. Their menu carried a selection of hearty breakfasts, classic sandwiches, and soups. The waitstaff wove around tables as if in a choreographed dance.
From the checkout counter, Florence, owner and server, greeted her with her usual, “Mornin’ sweetie. Seat yourself.”
Rose bypassed the empty booths and tables around the perimeter, then approached the large round table in the middle, all but one chair taken. Brigette Conroy and four men, known as The Elders, occupied the rest.
Each of them was a bridge, a connection to Magnolia’s past. They’d attended school together. Breakfasted here every Thursday morning for years.
Rose greeted the group with an overall hello.
The Finch children had grown up knowing all The Elders, some more than others. Jeremy and Brigette Conroy, the Finch kids’ honorary aunt and uncle, saw her first. Both stood and gave her a hug.
Brigette said, “It’s wonderful to see you.”
Rose put her hand on the empty chair at the table, the one that had been Magnolia’s. The place was set with silverware and a yellow coffee mug. She swallowed. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Jeremy motioned toward the empty chair. “By all means.”
Rose sat.
Across the table, Mr. Hal looked up and studied her. “You’re Nola’s youngest grandchild, Rose. The writer, the one who drove her here every Thursday.”
The Elders called Magnolia, Nola. They were the only ones in town who had permission to call her something besides her given name and Grandmother.
She said, “Yes, I’m Rose. I remember when you took care of our horses.”
He nodded. “It’s been a bit. You remember well. No need to be formal. Call me Hal. Makes me sound younger.”
“All right.”
Hal Lawson had worked as the local veterinarian for as long as she could remember.
Time and sun had aged his face. As a child, it hurt her neck to look up at him.
She’d likened him to a tree more than once.
He was the sort that kids and animals gravitated to, even though he and his wife never had children. He’d retired a few years prior.
To her right, Dr. Cook nodded at her. Magnolia called him the quiet one.
He was a stout man with close-cropped light gray hair.
He’d been the only pediatrician in town for years, an irony since he never seemed fond of children.
Despite retiring, Magnolia said he still served those in need on a volunteer basis.
Beside him sat Clyde Winston, the mayor. Sunlight bounced off the flattop of his white hair as he grinned. He said, “Good morning. You look fresh as sunshine.”
She greeted him back.
Florence came by with coffee. Her brown hair was wound into a bun at her nape. She said, “It’s been a while since you dropped in for a bear claw, Rose. I hear you’re cheating on us with that dragon coffee house.”
Rose stammered, “I?—”
Florence winked and laughed in a way that lit her entire face. “I’m just messing with you, girl.”
She filled Rose’s mug. “I gotta wonder what they put in those beans, though. Even I have to stop by there on the way to my mother’s. A jolt of caffeine is safer than what we all used to call liquid courage.”
Dr. Cook muttered, “I still call it liquid courage.”
Rose wasn’t sure everyone heard him, but she sent him a small smile.
Florence pulled a sharpened pencil from behind her ear and a notebook from the apron she wore over her jeans. “I’ve got the others in. What will you have? Besides a bear claw.”
Rose grinned. “Blackberries and a scrambled egg.”
“I’ll get this put in with Stan.” Florence walked back to the kitchen.
From her left, Jeremy asked, “What’s the latest on the ceiling collapse?”
Both he and Brigette had shown up masked and ready to help with the debris cleanup earlier in the week, along with two of their sons, Aidan and Ethan.
“Brody Bates did the full house inspection,” Rose said. “He brought his father’s report regarding the ceiling. A crew started on things this morning. The insurance adjuster will be out later to fine-tune some numbers.”
Jeremy nodded. “The Bates run a solid business. You can trust their findings. They helped us with some damage from a leaky air conditioner years back.”
“I’m thankful Broome knew who to call. He’s been an immense help. I hadn’t even had the house an hour before disaster struck.”
True enough, Broome had done more than she had this past week with his local connections. Ordering the dumpster that sat outside the front of the house, asking local friends to help clear the debris out.
Brigette said, “Don’t fret, hon, you’ll figure it out.”
Hal spoke next. “What brings you by?”
Rose said. “I miss her. I wondered if you had any stories you could share. It would help.”
Brigette’s blue eyes filled with understanding. She reached across Jeremy, put her hands over Rose’s. “Of course. She was my dearest friend. I miss her too.”
She dabbed the corners of her eyes as Jeremy moved closer to put his arm around his wife.
The rest of them nodded. Hal leaned forward. Magnolia always said he was the storyteller of the group. “What would you like to know?”
Now that she was here, she couldn’t think of a single question. She couldn’t exactly lead with the fact that Magnolia was her birth mother. Not here in the middle of the Cracked Egg Cafe.
“Anything.” She could get more specific later.
Beside her, Dr. Cook muttered a few words.
Brigette turned to him. “What’s that, Sam?”
He cleared his throat. “She used to tutor me back in school. Mathematics.”
Brigette’s expression eased as her voice softened. “In the library. I remember.”
He nodded, looked at both of them. “Equations were hard for me. Word problems too. Nola made them clear.”
Brigette said, “She was a genius with numbers. She got an award, end of her junior year.”
Dr. Cook said, “I passed Algebra because of her. Along with geometry and trigonometry.”
Rose never knew that. Broome had always been the one to tutor them in math.
Brigette spoke next. “Nola and I ironed our hair for the homecoming dance. It was a disaster, smelled something awful. Her hair was so dark it was hard to tell that it was burnt, but mine, these blond locks—so obvious I had done something bad to it. We both ended up wearing our hair up. And hoping no one could smell how we scorched it.”
Jeremy’s shoulders shook as if in silent laughter. “You cut your hair, so did Nola.”
Brigette’s hand went up to her long blond and silver strands. “Six inches. It broke my heart, but the burned parts were breaking away. I looked like a scarecrow.”
Jeremy’s long, tanned fingers played with his wife’s hair. “You never looked like a scarecrow.” He kissed her until she giggled and pushed him away.
The two of them acted like newlyweds. They’d been married for over forty years and had five children.
Even after their kiss ended, Brigette’s gaze flitted to her husband, her love for him clear in every glance of her bright blue eyes.
A glance told her the mayor was watching her.
He’d been silent since his initial greeting.
She didn’t know him well. Only that his father had served as a senator for years in the state legislature.
From Magnolia, she knew he had two children, a son and a daughter, both in their forties.
His wife, Louise, was not one of The Elders.
Brigette had once let it slip that Louise Winston despised their little group, but never elaborated on why.
“You should date my Jesse,” he said. “He’s my oldest, a handsome devil with a ten-thousand dollar grin.”
Rose got the sense he meant that literally.
Dr. Cook cleared his throat. Hal and Jeremy straightened in their seats as if preparing for something. Brigette’s eyes narrowed.
The mayor continued, “I’m retiring end of my term. He’ll take my place.”
Rose hadn’t met his son, only knew he had gone to an Ivy League school.
“A pretty young woman on his arm, especially someone with the Everson name, would help with the votes. An engagement would be?—”
Brigette slammed her coffee cup on the table, hard enough to crack it. Coffee leaked onto the surface. No one moved at first.
In a menacing voice, Brigette said. “Hear that? Nola just rolled over in her grave. We’re telling stories about her. This is not the time?—”
The mayor held up his hands. “No offense. I was just thinking.”
Her eyes flashed. “Then stop. Rose and the rest of her family lost someone precious to them. She wants to hear cheerful stories about Nola, not your politics.”
The argument drew attention. Other customers looked their way.
Rose curled her fingers against her jeans. Wished for a quick escape. A trap door beneath her chair.
The mayor guffawed, then looked at both of them. “I apologize. I meant no harm to you, Rose, nor you, Brigette. You’re making me look bad.”
Jeremy leaned forward. “You’re doing a good job of that all by yourself, Clyde.”
His face reddened as he sucked in his cheeks.
Florence bustled over with a towel, dropped it on the coffee spill, her voice agitated. “Everything okay over here?”
Hal raised his head. “It’ll be fine, Flo. Clyde shoved his boots into his mouth. Brigette’s?—”
“I’m pissed, Florence.” Brigette helped wipe up the spill.
Florence raised an eyebrow, removed the cracked mug, a few empty plates. “I can tell sugar. You’re all drawing attention, though.”
“Sorry, Florence,” said Dr. Cook.
“Just pipe it down. I don’t need drama in my place.”
“Of course. We’ll behave.”
“You do that. Maybe you’ll all get a cookie for it.”
Dr. Cook cleared his throat and looked across to Hal. “You got a story about Nola?”
Hal nodded. “Chock full of them. Would you like to hear?”
As if the question was a lifeline, Rose said, “Yes.”
He launched into one.