The Cherry Cola Book Club (3 page)

“Good,” Connie replied, allowing herself to relax. “So, what's our next step?”

Maura Beth handed over the notes she had been making, and Connie scanned them quickly, suggesting a few changes. The two of them went back and forth a couple of times and finally came up with a suitable plan: Maura Beth would design and produce the flyer, but Connie would pay for everything out of her “mad money,” as the library simply lacked the funds to pull it off; they would allow a period of two weeks for people to sign up for the club; then Maura Beth would call an organizational meeting at the library and officially get things under way.

“I only hope somebody else will show up,” Maura Beth observed, arching her eyebrows dramatically.

 

Exactly when Maura Beth had come up with the idea of hand-delivering one of her flyers to Councilman Sparks, she could not recall. But she had run it past both Periwinkle and Connie before acting on it, and the three of them had decided that an aggressive approach was the best one to take. She needed to let the councilmen know she meant business about proving the library's worth and would be pursuing that goal immediately.

At the moment, she was standing in front of City Hall with its massive, three-story Corinthian columns—indeed, the ornate building dominated the otherwise low skyline of the town—while she summoned the courage to mount the steps and walk in to have her say. At all costs she must shrug off the lingering traces of intimidation that innumerable sessions with these politicians had produced.

Five minutes later, she found herself sitting in the councilman's outer office, staring uncomfortably at his personality-free secretary, Nora Duddney. In all the visits she had paid over the years, Maura Beth was quite certain that she had never seen the woman come close to registering an emotion of any kind.

“Miz Mayhew! You're looking lovely as ever!” Councilman Sparks exclaimed, bursting through the door unannounced after a tedious ten minutes had passed. “So sorry to keep you waiting, but I have the City of Cherico to run, you know. So many departments, so little time. But do come in and tell me what's on your mind!” He gestured gracefully toward his inner office, turning on his bankable charm full-bore, but Maura Beth couldn't help but notice that Nora Duddney was as charmless as ever, blankly typing things onto her computer screen.

“So, what brings you in this morning?” he began just after they had settled comfortably into their sumptuous leather chairs. Whatever financial problems the City of Cherico might be having, they were clearly not reflected in the opulent décor of the head honcho's office. It had the aura of one of those upscale designer showrooms with Persian rugs covering the floor, as distinguished-looking as the touch of gray at Councilman Sparks's temples.

Maura Beth drew a deep breath as she leaned forward and handed over the flyer. “I'd appreciate it very much if you would read this, please. It will explain everything to you.”

He quickly accepted the paper and commented immediately. “My, my! Is this color supposed to be some shade of gold?”

“The printer called it goldenrod, I believe.”

“Cutesy name. But a little loud, I think.”

“The other choice was bubble gum pink. I don't know what happened to everyday white.”

“Aha! You were caught between a rock and a hard place! In that case, you chose wisely. Color is such an intriguing part of life. Myself, I'm partial to bright, flaming red.”

After making quite a production of holding up the flyer and thumping it noisily a couple of times, Councilman Sparks chose to read out loud, his tone deliberate but managing to impart a hint of mockery at the same time:

“I'd like for you to attend,” Maura Beth said the instant he stopped reading. “And the other councilmen, too, if they'd like. You don't actually have to sign up and participate. Just drop by and see what we're trying to accomplish.”

He patiently began folding the flyer several times until it had been reduced to a small square of paper, which he then pressed between his thumb and index finger for an awkward length of time. “Well, first, I'd like to say that the way you capitalized the line about the staff there at the end really made an impression on me,” he began at last. “Just imagine how much more forceful it would have been to have used all caps. I do question whether three people is a staff, however.”

Maura Beth managed to force a smile, refusing to let him get to her. “I'd like to have more personnel, of course. I'd even like to have a whole new library, for that matter. But it all takes money, as you well know.”

“Yes, that appears to be the crux of the matter between us, doesn't it?” Then he abruptly switched subjects. “As for your invitation to the other councilmen, I think Chunky would definitely show up for the free food. He'd be the first one in line. But I know he wouldn't sit still for the rest of it. There are times I could swear he can't even read his utility bill. But he comes in handy with bringing certain voters into the fold. As for Gopher Joe, he'd come if I told him he had to, but you wouldn't get a peep out of him all evening. No, I think maybe I'd better make this a solo appearance on behalf of the Council. Just call it an executive decision.”

“Then you'll come?”

“I enjoy keeping an eye on you, though I have to admit, I didn't expect something like this to pop up. You've been a busy little honeybee since we last got together, haven't you? Doing your frantic little dance to show the way to the pollen, it appears to me.”

Maura Beth was feeling emboldened now and pressed on. “According to what you've told me, I have nothing to lose except my job.”

“You have spirit, Miz Mayhew. I like the way you stand up for yourself. It's a very attractive quality among so many.”

“Thank you for saying so. Oh, and you don't have to bring a dish with you, by the way.”

“I assure you, I hadn't planned to. I can't boil water, and my wife's not much better. Evie and I eat out as often as we can. But I do appreciate you giving me a heads-up about this club of yours. The truth is, I detest surprises of any kind, especially successful ones.” Then he rose quickly and said, “If there's nothing else, then, I'll be seeing you on July 17th at the library. I know you really don't believe it, but this office is and always has been open to you.”

After she'd left and was heading down the hall, Maura Beth began to get an uneasy feeling about the exchange she'd just had with the man who had hired her. It would be beyond foolish to trust his slick, wolfish demeanor when she imagined him viewing her as Little Redheaded Riding Hood just ripe for the waylaying. He had been far too compliant about everything, and she ended up wondering if she really wanted him there as an observer after all.

T
he July session of “Who's Who in Cherico?” was well under way in the library's drab little meeting room with Miss Voncille Nettles holding forth in her inimitable fashion.

“. . . and this is a photo of the Doak Leonard Winchester Family showing off the brand-new First Farmers' Bank of Cherico building,” she was saying. “I'll now pass it around for your perusal. Note especially the big white bows in the ladies' hair. That was all the rage around the turn of the twentieth century. I know that from my research, of course, not because I was actually there.”

Everyone laughed and began eagerly inspecting the picture, while Miss Voncille looked on approvingly. Though approaching seventy, she projected the vigor of someone ten to fifteen years younger. Especially impressive was the resonance of her voice, even though she was not a large person. Whenever she made genealogical and historical pronouncements as she was now to her handful of followers, they always lapped them up as the gospel truth. Criticisms or disagreements quickly brought out the sharpness of her tongue, enabling her to live up to her prickly surname. Despite the short fuse, however, there were still traces in her face and in the way she carefully arranged her salt-and-pepper hair of the great beauty she had once been, making people all the more curious about her perennial spinster status. If nothing else, she remained the town's most impeccably dressed woman with no place to go.

On this particular evening, Maura Beth had decided to join Miss Voncille and her loyal members—the Crumpton sisters and widower Locke Linwood—with the deliberate intention of recruiting for her book club. It would be easy enough, she reasoned, to chat with each of them over the fruit punch out of a can and store-bought sugar cookies they routinely trotted out for refreshments. In fact, she had already put a self-serving word in edgewise while ladling a plastic cup for Miss Voncille and was fully counting on closing the deal immediately after the adjournment.

All of a sudden, Mamie Crumpton was shouting about something, and Maura Beth was yanked out of the thoughtful review of her evening agenda.

“Why, Voncille Nettles, you take that back this instant. You simply must retract that outrageous statement. It is most certainly the lie of all time!”

As the older and decidedly overbearing maiden sister of one of Cherico's wealthiest families, Mamie had already begun hyperventilating, heaving her ample bosom. Her detractors around town—and there were more than a few—had often conjectured that one of these days she was going to puff herself up so big during one of her tantrums that pricking her with a pin might just send her flying all over Cherico like a deflated Goodyear blimp.

The unassuming and far daintier Marydell Crumpton uncharacteristically joined the attack. “You made that up out of a whole lace tablecloth, Voncille Nettles, and everybody in this room with any knowledge of this town knows it!”

“See?” Mamie added, wagging a bejeweled finger. “You've upset my little sister, and you should know by now how hard that is to do!”

“Neither of you has to get so worked up and take everything so seriously!” Miss Voncille exclaimed, deliberately averting her eyes from her accusers. “This is just par for the course for you, Mamie. You haven't changed in all the years I've known you!”

Maura Beth blinked in disbelief at the heated exchange, realizing she had not been paying close attention to Miss Voncille's latest pronouncement. “Now, everyone, please calm down.”

“I have a right to be upset. Armadillos, indeed!” Mamie repeated, practically spitting out the words. “I've never heard such a ridiculous thing in my life. The Crumpton Family has been solvent and respectable from the instant we set foot on these shores. We would never have stooped to the activities you describe. So, once and for all, are you going to retract this incredible fabrication of yours or not? Really, I have no earthly idea what could have gotten into you!”

Miss Voncille folded her arms and turned up her nose at the challenge, just sitting there saying nothing.

“Very well, then. I'll take that as a ‘no,' ” Mamie declared, rising from the table with all the authority she could muster. “Come along, sister dear, we don't need to be dignifying this with our presence any longer.” Whereupon the two of them huffed out of the meeting room, slamming the door behind them and leaving Maura Beth and Locke Linwood sitting in place virtually stupefied.

Miss Voncille finally broke the awkward silence. “Mamie Crumpton always has to have her way. She's so pompous, and there's this morbid side she's had since we were girls in school together. That's an incredible story in itself. Would you like to hear it?”

Maura Beth leaned in with all the poise she could muster. “Another time, perhaps. But I'm afraid I was daydreaming a bit when you revealed whatever it was in your lecture that got the Crumpton sisters so upset. So sorry. Would you mind repeating it?”

Miss Voncille shrugged. “I meant no harm. I just thought we could inject a little fun into one of these outings.”

“Well, then, please tell me all about the fun.”

“Oh, very well. After I was through talking about the Winchester Family, I said that I'd found an old newspaper article about Hyram Crumpton, their grandfather, opening up a business downtown that specialized in stuffed animals and other novelties like flower baskets made out of armadillo shells. I also said he had to do it because he'd previously gone bankrupt.” Miss Voncille was unable to suppress a giggle or two. “And, yes—I made it all up.”

“For heaven's sake, why?”

“Maybe I've gotten a little bored with ‘Who's Who?' after all these years. The words
deadly dull
come to mind,” Miss Voncille confessed with a sigh. But her tone was not particularly contrite, and she even managed to look a trifle smug there at the end.

Locke Linwood straightened his shiny silver tie and noisily cleared his throat to gain the floor. “Miss Voncille, I'd like to tell you something very important and of a personal nature, if you don't mind.”

“Go right ahead, Mr. Linwood,” Miss Voncille replied, looking intrigued.

“Would you like some privacy?” Maura Beth put in, thinking on her feet.

Locke shook his head of thick gray hair emphatically. “Please stay right where you are, Miz Mayhew. I don't mind you hearing this. It seems to be a night for speaking with abandon.”

He appeared to be gathering his thoughts and did not say anything immediately. Maura Beth could not wait to hear what was on his mind, noting the profound lines of displeasure creasing his face. She had never associated frowns with this lanky, distinguished man, as it was well-known to everyone that he and his late wife, Pamela, had been the happiest of married couples for nearly forty years. After her passing, he had surprised everyone by continuing to attend “Who's Who?” by himself, but even then had never exhibited a hint of sorrow in his expressions.

“Miss Voncille,” he began at last, “my dear wife and I always enjoyed your diligent efforts to shed light on our family histories here in Cherico. No one could possibly be better researched than you are. We considered you the ultimate authority, and you know we didn't miss many meetings. But I think this so-called joke of yours at the expense of the Crumpton family was in questionable taste, no matter what kind of boredom you say you're going through. It was a complete disappointment to me.”

He paused for a moment and swallowed hard. “Not only that, but, well, things have been mighty lonely for me since my wife passed, and I was actually thinking of asking you out, believe it or not. I hope you don't think that's too forward, but there it is. Except that after your behavior tonight and the way you've just shrugged it off as if it was nothing, I realize I don't really know you at all. You're not who I thought you were. There now, I've gotten that off my chest.”

Miss Voncille's face dropped noticeably, and she seemed at a loss for words for the longest time. Finally, though, she regained her composure. “Mr. Linwood, I'm not an easy person to surprise, but I have to admit you've just accomplished that.” She paused briefly to throw up her hands. “At any rate, it seems that you and Miz Mayhew are in agreement about my behavior. So perhaps I should just go ahead and apologize.”

Maura Beth reacted first, but not before finding the polite, formal exchange from the older generation a bit on the endearing side. Was she possibly witnessing the budding of a future romance? “Miss Voncille, I think it's the Crumpton sisters who need your apology. If you lose them as members, you've gotten rid of two thirds of your following.”

“Yes, I realize that.”

“If you ladies will excuse me, then,” Locke said, rising from his chair and squaring his shoulders. “I think I'll call it an evening.” He made his way slowly to the door, turning back at the last second with a gentlemanly bow. “But, Miss Voncille, I want you to know that I don't discourage easily. Despite what happened tonight, I fully intend to be here for the next meeting.”

“Another surprise! What am I supposed to make of all that?” Miss Voncille exclaimed after Locke had left the room. But Maura Beth could sense the false bravado in her tone.

“We could talk about it, if you like. Would you care to have a heart-to-heart over more punch and cookies?”

Miss Voncille's reply came only after a great deal of fidgeting with the notes she had prepared for the meeting, as if they would somehow acquire some sort of magical powers and tell her what to do. “Oh, why not? Getting things off your chest seems to have worked nicely for Mr. Linwood.”

Maura Beth waited as patiently as she could, seeing that Miss Voncille was having some difficulty getting started, but finally broke the ice herself. “I hope you regard me as more than just a librarian by now. I know six years isn't that much history between us in the grand scheme of things, but I've always prided myself on being a good listener. But first, let's keep our energy levels up.” So she headed for the refreshment table and poured them each another cup of red punch with maraschino cherries on the bottom, brought back a couple of cookies wrapped in paper napkins, and the exchange began in earnest.

“Locke Linwood was right when he said he didn't really know who I was. He's in good company because very few people know what I'm about to tell you. I can sum it all up in two words, though,” Miss Voncille explained after nibbling a cookie and sipping her punch. “Frank Gibbons.”

“Frank Gibbons? Who is he?”

“Only the love of my life,” Miss Voncille explained. “Today's been rough on me. It's been forty-five years since Frank literally dematerialized. I should have known better than to schedule a meeting of ‘Who's Who?' with that so heavy on my mind lately. It comes and goes, of course, but what's worse is that I took it all out on the Crumpton sisters and their money and haughty ways. But I still shouldn't have lashed out at them. I'm bigger than that.”

Maura Beth put on her most sympathetic face and lowered her voice accordingly. “So tell me more about this man disappearing into thin air.”

“Well, no. You misunderstand. You see, he was a soldier who lived over in Corinth. My parents didn't approve because they said he was from the wrong side of the tracks. It was true that his family didn't have a lot of money or social position, but that didn't mean a thing to me. I was madly in love. Still, very few people here in Cherico even knew this little affair was going on because my parents wanted it like that. From the very beginning, they said they knew it would never last. That would turn out to be the cruelest thing they would ever say to me, and I never forgave them for it.” Miss Voncille broke off for a few moments for another swallow of her punch.

“Frank had just introduced me to his family over the Christmas holidays back in 1967. They were as sweet as they could be to me, even though I knew there would be serious in-law problems down the line. Nevertheless, we fully intended to get engaged, no matter what. But in January, Frank was deployed to Vietnam, and we had to put everything on hold. I don't know how well you remember your history, but that was January of 1968. Shortly after he arrived over there, the North Vietnamese launched the Tet Offensive, and Frank's company ended up right in the middle of it.”

“As I matter of fact, I do know about the Tet Offensive, even if I wasn't around,” Maura Beth explained. “We librarians are always getting refresher courses in everything under the sun when we help students research their school reports. The teachers never stop assigning papers on the Vietnam War, and we're open much later than the school libraries are. Anyway, I know there were a lot of casualties among our troops during that terrible period. So are you telling me Frank was one of those?”

Miss Voncille absent-mindedly snapped her cookie in two, briefly staring down at what she'd done in astonishment. When she looked up, she picked a spot on the wall above Maura Beth's head and spoke to it. “It was the worst thing that can happen. He was officially declared MIA, which doesn't allow for closure. Of course, I never got it. He's still MIA all these many decades later. He was just gone, and no one knew where to find him. I kept in touch with his mother until she died, but there was no further word.

“Of course, there was a memorial service for him over in Corinth, which I sneaked off to when the time came. But it just wasn't the same as putting his actual remains to rest. You might not think that's such a big deal, but, believe me, I'm sure it would have helped me heal. Meanwhile, I busied myself with my school teaching until I retired and then took on all this genealogy research after that and . . . well, here we are sitting side by side, sipping punch and discussing it all as ancient history.”