He started up the car and headed back to the station house to put his food in the refrigerator. The town hall had been erected on a block a quarter of a mile from the business district. It housed the mayor and town clerk’s office, the local court, and the sheriff’s department, including a single holding cell.
“Sweetie, I thought you went out for lunch.” Petite, with sparkling blue eyes, never married, Elizabeth Henry called everyone sweetie, because she claimed she was never able to remember names. She’d cut her shimmering white hair into a becoming, chin-length bob.
Reese smiled at the woman manning the front desk. Elizabeth had been an employee of the sheriff’s department for more than forty years and had worked under three sheriffs during her tenure. She’d been hired right out of secretarial school and, over the years, had become a computer whiz. She was quick to say that Chief Parker Shelton was the best. Elizabeth had threatened to quit and/or resign several times, but once Parker was elected, she’d decided to stay on until, she claimed, the Lord called her home, which she hoped wasn’t for a long time.
“I did, but I’m back. I have to catch up on some reports before I leave later this afternoon.” He didn’t tell the receptionist that he’d prepared breakfast for himself—grits, eggs, bacon, and toast—and the meal was enough for him to keep up his energy all morning and afternoon.
Elizabeth waved a blue-veined hand. “You’re the only deputy who gives me his paperwork on time. The others play catch-up just before the chief has to submit the reports to the mayor’s office for their town meetings.”
“I suppose I’m a little inflexible after serving in the military for so many years.”
“Inflexible or not, I told the chief that if he doesn’t get on the others to give me their reports on time, I’m not going to kill myself working overtime inputting them into the computer.”
Reese knew that if Elizabeth complained to Parker about the deputies, there would be hell to pay. His cousin was laid back and easygoing, but there were occasions when he’d become a drill master, barking orders and expecting them to be followed without question. This was a side of the retired drill sergeant he’d witnessed once and did not want to see again. He stored his dinner in the refrigerator and then retreated to his cubicle to type up a report from the prior day before returning to his shift. He’d issued three parking tickets and written up a report of graffiti scrawled on the rear doors of the hardware store and the bookstore. Most merchants were opposed to installing cameras in and outside their businesses, a topic that had come up for discussion during prior town hall meetings. However, with the proliferation of graffiti appearing on school property and now in the business district, the mayor and town council members were seriously considering passing an ordinance to secure properties from vandalism.
Reese finished typing his report, read it over, and then uploaded it to Elizabeth’s computer. He planned to drive over the bridge to the island and then return to the mainland before clocking out for the day.
Chapter 6
Cherie, reclining on the chaise in the family room, stared at the images on the flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace. Christmas had come and gone, and the rooms were painted in calming shades of blues, greens, and grays. The cable company had connected the Wi-Fi for access to the internet so she could begin researching colleges for her online degree.
She’d thought about enrolling in next year’s fall semester, but then changed her mind to put it off until spring of the following year. That would give her time to settle into her new home and lifestyle. She’d been out of college for more than ten years, and she wanted to make certain she was emotionally ready for required reading, completing papers, and eventually student teaching.
It was New Year’s Eve, and it wasn’t the first time she would celebrate the holiday alone. But this year would be different. She was where she wanted to be, and she was certain what she wanted for her future. Cherie never could have imagined, when she’d opened a magazine and read the article about vacationing in North Carolina, that calling the rental agent handling vacation properties would change her life. The woman told her that all the bungalows were rented, but there were vacancies at the boardinghouse.
Then she’d been in a dark place. It was the anniversary of when she’d given up her son, and she had to get away—anywhere. Two days later, she’d emailed the signed contract to the agent and wired funds to cover the summer rental.
She’d made many decisions in her life, and summering on Coates Island had been one of the best. So much so that she’d returned this past summer, and it was enough for her to conclude it was where she wanted to live.
Her cell phone chimed a familiar ringtone. Smiling, she picked it up and tapped a key. “Happy New Year!” Cherie could hardly contain the joy she felt at that moment. She’d been waiting for her mother to call her.
“Happy New Year to you, too, baby. I’ve been so busy working that I didn’t have time to open my mail. When I opened my bank statement, I saw that you’d deposited money into my account. Why so much, Cherie?”
“I want you to save it for when you move.” There was silence on the other end of the connection. “I’m serious, Mom. I really want you to think about moving away from the neighborhood. If you find a place where the rent is more than you can afford on your salary and tips, I’m willing to subsidize you.”
“Where are you getting all this money, Cherie?”
There was no way she was going to admit to her mother she’d been paid to give a man her child. “Don’t forget that I worked, Mom, and also invested well.” And she had. She’d traded her body in exchange for getting what she could from a wealthy man. What she refused to do was think of herself as a prostitute. Her relationship with Weylin went beyond having him pay her for sex. They’d had an affair for years, but things changed once he’d blindsided her with the demand that she give up the baby they’d made through the intimate act of making love. He’d sought to soften his petition when he’d admitted over and over that she had given him what Michelle couldn’t—and that didn’t only include a child. He told her that, if circumstances had been different, he would’ve married her.
“I don’t know why I keep forgetting that. Do you have plans for tonight?”
“Yes. I’m staying home. Tomorrow I plan to roast a pork loin and make smothered cabbage, black-eyed peas, and cornbread.”
Cherie had grown up believing black-eyed peas, or Hoppin’ John, on New Year’s Day would bring a prosperous year filled with luck. Green leafy vegetables were thought to signify wealth, and cornbread also represented wealth because it looked like gold.
Edwina’s laugh came through the earpiece. “I’ll never understand my children’s preference for southern food and traditions, even though whenever they open their mouths to speak, everyone knows they’re from New England.”
“Speak for yourself, Mom. It was Grammie who kept the traditions her mother had brought from the South during the Great Migration.” Cherie’s great-grandmother had passed on before she was born, yet she never tired of her grandmother talking about the traditions practiced by generations of African American women in the southern region of the country. “Are you going to tell me that you’re not going to make a pot of black-eyed peas.”
“I’m not cooking this year. Pamela called to let me know she’s having a little get-together, and I told her I would come and bring dessert.”
Cherie nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. Pamela was a distant cousin they only got to see at weddings and funerals. And Cherie didn’t know what had changed to prompt her to invite Edwina to her home for the holiday. Pamela didn’t attempt to conceal her disdain for her lowly relatives and always looked for every opportunity to remind everyone that she’d married well. And marrying well did not involve inheriting money; her husband had hit the jackpot at a slot machine for seven figures at a local casino and subsequently purchased a five-thousand-square-foot house overlooking the Connecticut River.
“What brought that on?”
“Stop it, Cherie! I know what you’re thinking. Pamela runs hot and cold, so I’m going take her at her word and show up with a pound cake and a couple of sweet potato pies.”
“And I won’t say what I’m thinking. My only resolution for the coming year is to think before I speak. Have fun, and give Pamela my best.”
