Stepping to a New Day by Beverly Jenkins
“This is nice, Gen,” Lily said. “There’s plenty of space for the queen-sized bed you ordered.”
“When’s your furniture coming?” Bernadine asked.
“Tomorrow. If I’d known the installation would go so smoothly I would’ve had everything delivered today.” But she could wait another day. By tomorrow, she’d have a bed and a sofa and all the other pieces she’d ordered. Thanks to frugal Lily’s help she’d been able to get what she needed to furnish the place and not be in the poorhouse afterward.
Lily said, “After the furniture comes, we can bring over all the stuff from the housewarming party that’s at my place. Do you want help putting it all away?”
“That would be wonderful.”
They moved back to the living room just as someone knocked on the door. Excited, Gen said, “My first visitor.” But when she peeked through the window, her excitement died. “Dammit!”
“Who is it?”
“Riley.”
Heads shook.
He knocked again. Louder.
Lily cracked, “You can’t tell him to beat it, if you don’t open the door.”
Gen blew out a breath of frustration. “Lord, this man. I think he actually believes I’m going to let him live with me.”
“You aren’t going to, are you?” asked a wide-eyed Sheila.
“After what he put me through? Of course not.” She heard him yell her name from his side of the door. Holding onto her temper, she pulled it open.
He smiled. “Hey, Genevieve.”
“What do you want, Riley?”
“You were in such a hurry the other day we didn’t get a chance to finish talking.”
She asked again, “What do you want?”
“Can I at least come in?”
She studied him standing there in his dark glasses and worn black suit with the ever-present red carnation that was as fake as his smile. Everything in her wanted to slam the door in his face, but from somewhere inside came the reminder that she’d once loved this man. In tandem rose Reverend Paula’s teachings: kindness over rightness. Gen knew she’d never take him back, and if talking to him would finally convince him of that then she would talk, otherwise she’d never be able to step fully into the new day she and Marie had saluted that morning. “Come in,” she said tersely. She turned to her friends. “I need to speak with him. Can I call you later?”
They agreed and departed.
Alone with him she waited while he took a slow look around.
“This is nice,” he said before bringing his attention back to her.
“I’m pleased with it.”
“You know, the first time I saw you I thought you were the prettiest little thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.”
She folded her arms and waited.
Her impatience seemed to throw him a bit and he cleared his throat. “You remember the first time we met?”
“I do. Clay brought you to Mal’s eighteenth birthday party.”
“Yep. Clay told me he was sweet on you, but the moment we were introduced I wanted to make you mine.”
“Where’s this going, Riley?”
“Just want to remind you how much we meant to each other once upon a time.”
“You meant something to me but I never meant anything to you. Not really. Looking back, I think the only reason you courted me was to get next to my family’s money and social status.”
He startled, which let her know she’d hit the nail on the head, so she continued, “You married a naïve, small-town girl who’d never seen anything or been anywhere. You filled my head with all your big talk about our future and for forty years I was dumb enough to eat it up and believe you cared about me.”
“I did.”
“No. You didn’t. If you had you would have gone to the doctor like I asked when I couldn’t get pregnant.”
He froze and stuttered, “I—I—.”
When he looked away, she spoke with as kind a voice as she could muster. “I won’t be letting you back in my life, Riley. I value myself too highly to be a victim again and I’m not apologizing for that.”
“But I don’t have anyplace else to go. What am I supposed to do?”
She threw up her hands. “Finally, the truth.”
His jaw tightened.
“Did you think I wasn’t smart enough to figure out why you’re here?”
“If you hadn’t walked out on me, I wouldn’t be homeless.”
“You’re homeless because of you, Riley. Not me. You chose that damn hog over me. You chose to use Trent’s name to steal that vehicle. Lord knows what else you have hanging over your head, but it’s no longer my concern.”
“You’re mean, Genevieve.”
“So be it, but read my lips. You will not be living with me. Not now. Not in the future.”
They eyed each other like combatants in the ring. She didn’t care about his anger. He needed to know where she stood and that she wasn’t playing. “Anything else you want to talk about?”
“No,” he snapped, and stormed out.
As the slam of the door faded away, Gen drew in a deep calming breath. She hoped he got it this time. If not, she’d explain it again and again until he did, or got tired of being told off. That twenty-year-old, naïve country girl he’d married was saddened by the failure of her marriage, but the grown-up Genevieve had already moved on.
Outside, Riley snatched open the door of Clay’s truck and got in. He was so mad he could spit.
Clay asked, “Well?”
“She ain’t taking me back.”
“Told you that.”
Clay drove toward town and Riley fumed. “Never cared about her anyway.”
“Everybody knew that.”
Riley stared.
Clay shrugged. “Marie tried to tell her. Her daddy tried to tell her. Even I tried. But she was blinded by your BS and it took her forty years to learn who you really are.”
“And who am I, Mr. Know-It-All?”
“A social climbing user with no conscience.”
Riley’s jaw dropped.
“You asked.”
“Then why are you helping me?”
“For the ringside seat.”
“What?”
“Let’s just say I’m enjoying watching the man who stole my girl finally get his comeuppance.”
Riley wanted to make him stop the truck and get out but he didn’t have any way to get around or a place to stay, so he kept his mouth shut and tried not to think about Clay’s description.
Arriving in town, Clay pulled up in front of what appeared to be a Quonset hut. Riley had never seen the place before. “What is this?”
“Kelly Douglas’s beauty shop.”
“Why are you stopping here?”
“So you can go in and ask for a barber job.”
Riley’s reply was dismissive. “I don’t need you running my life, Clay Dobbs.”
“Maybe not, but Bing will be back the day after tomorrow and you’ll be needing money and someplace else to stay.”
Riley’s heart began pounding so hard he thought he might be having a heart attack.
Clay gave a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll be at the Dog. Meet me there when you’re done.”
Riley decided he hated him. Hated him even more than he did Genevieve, but he had no choice but to get out. He walked to the door and silently cursed Clay when the truck pulled away.
Upon seeing Tamar July leafing through a magazine in one of the chairs, Riley wanted to run back out, but she glanced up and her sharp black eyes pinned his feet to the floor. “Afternoon, Riley.”
“Uh, hello, Tamar.”
“Used my grandson’s name in vain lately?”
He hastily shook his head. “No.”
“Good. I’d hate for him to have to give you another set of black eyes to match the one you already have. Nice shades.”
Riley suddenly wished he’d stayed in LA. Since coming back he’d suffered nothing but blow after blow and
A young woman holding a blow-dryer above the head of a Mexican woman he didn’t know asked, “Can I help you?”
“Uh. I’m looking for the owner.”
“That’s me. Kelly Douglas. What can I do for you?”
“Name’s Riley Curry. I’m told you might need a barber?”
“Really?” She glanced quizzically at Tamar.
Riley explained. “I—used to make my living as one.”
Tamar said, “Town could use one, Kelly. Problem is, he’s the only candidate.”
“Is he trustworthy?” Kelly asked her while looking him up and down.
“No.”
“Tamar!” Riley cried.
“You’re not and everyone knows it, especially Genevieve.”
Kelly froze. “Wait. Are you the ex-husband? The one with the pig?”
He nodded sorrowfully.
“I’m not hiring you. I heard the stories. She’s godmother to my twins.”
“Please. I really need a job. I’m homeless.”
She threw back, “I heard you and that killer pig made her homeless once, too.”
Riley turned to Tamar who responded, “Don’t look at me. If the outlaw Julys were still alive you’d be stretched out on a flagpole with a flour sack over your head for what you did to my grandson.”
Riley stiffened behind the shades. The humorous story of outlaw Neil July punishing storekeeper Armstead Malloy was an old Henry Adams legend. Malloy verbally defamed Neil’s soon-to-be wife, Olivia, so to pay him back, Neil kidnapped him in the middle of the night. When sunrise came Malloy was, as Tamar described, tied fast to a flagpole and had a flour sack over his head. The only unamused person in town that day back in the 1880s had been Armstead Malloy.
Riley didn’t want to beg, but, “Please. Just give me a chance. I promise to be the best employee you ever had.”
The skepticism on the young woman’s face was plain. “Come to think about it, I could use a barber, but I don’t know about you. Let me talk to Ms. Brown. Technically this business belongs to her, so leave me your number.”
“I—don’t have a phone. You can reach me through Clay Dobbs, though.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
He headed for the exit only to hear Tamar snap, “Riley!”
He went stock-still and turned.
“At least tell her thank you.”
He took a quick look at the young woman’s tight face. “Uh, thanks.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Bye.”
Feeling like a chastised child, Riley slunk out.
When Riley arrived at the Dog, Clay was in a booth eating. Mal was standing at the desk so Riley ignored his glare and quickly bypassed him and slid into the booth with Clay. He’d had enough of the Julys to last the rest of his life.
“How’d it go?” Clay asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“She wants to talk to Ms. Brown first. I told her to call you when she makes up her mind.”
“Good. If she says no, Gary may have a job sweeping floors at the store.”
Riley wondered how his life had gone to hell so swiftly. Granted, he’d done some things he now regretted, but he was the former mayor. He wasn’t supposed to be sweeping floors or begging a little half-grown hairdresser for a job. And Clay? Riley had no idea that beneath that quiet laid-back demeanor lay the soul of a snake. That he would be enjoying Riley’s misery was almost too much to bear, especially since Riley had always considered Clay one of his few friends.
“If you want to eat, go ahead and order. You can pay me back when you get hired.”
Knowing the truth behind Clay’s support, Riley didn’t want to be beholden to him in any way ever again, but he was hungry and he couldn’t think up a way out of this mess if he didn’t fuel his brain, so he waved over a server and put in his order.
At the Clark home, TC greeted the girls after school, checked on the chili bubbling slowly to awesomeness in the Crock-Pot, and carried his cup of coffee and a few of the chocolate cookies he’d made earlier outside to the back porch. The spring weather seemed to be settling in for real, but it was still chilly enough in the mornings and evenings to need a jacket. Sitting in one of the chairs, he took in the unobstructed view of wide open fields still wearing winter’s browns and golds, and savored the hush of the surroundings. Unlike back home, there were no sirens, horns, or bass blaring from cars, just the rustling breeze and the occasional birdsong. The calm allowed a man to think about many things. In his case two were most prominent and both were connected to Genevieve Gibbs. Being in her company opened a part of himself that had been on lockdown since Carla’s death. He never imagined his heart stirring again, let alone contemplating courting a woman he’d known less than a month. It felt right though, and he wanted to explore what it might be like to be with someone he could laugh with, talk to and care about after so many years of going through life alone. The second was his reading problem. He’d decided to bite the bullet and ask her to be his tutor. If she distanced herself because of it, then she wasn’t the lady for him. Taking out his phone, he called her.
Genevieve and Marie were in Marie’s kitchen preparing to sit down to dinner. When her phone sounded and she saw TC’s name on the caller ID, her brow furrowed.
“What’s the matter?” Marie asked. “Please don’t tell me it’s Riley.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then who?”
“Terence.”
“Who?”
“Morgan Freeman.”
Marie’s eyes lit with amusement. “Then maybe you should answer it.”
Gen picked up the phone. “Hey there,” she said tentatively.
“Hate to bother you but I’d like to talk to you about something. Can I swing by after dinner and pick you up?”
“Where are we going?”
“How about the place where we had lunch the other day? I got Ms. July’s number from Gary so we have permission.”
Gen couldn’t imagine what this might be about. “You aren’t a serial killer, are you?”
He laughed. “No, ma’am.”
“Okay. I guess so.”
“Look, if you’re uncomfortable . . .”
“No. I’m okay. How about six o clock?”
“Sounds good. See you then.” And the call ended.
Marie, who’d watched the whole thing, peered at Genevieve’s face. “A date?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. He wants to talk, but he didn’t say what about.”
“Here?”
“No, at Tamar’s picnic table by the creek.”
“Sounds like a date to me.”
“Hush,” Gen replied, amused.
“Well, if he is a serial killer he’ll never make it off the property because you know Tamar will be watching from the window with her shotgun by her side.”
“I do.” And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On the one hand she liked the idea of Tamar acting as security but on the other hand, did she really want Tamar watching them? What if he kissed her? Immediately putting that out of her mind, she decided the Tamar factor didn’t matter. What he wanted to discuss was more pertinent and she had to admit she was intrigued.
CHAPTER
11
On his way over to pick up Genevieve, TC grappled with what he wanted to say. He’d always been a straightforward kind of guy, but for some reason he wasn’t sure simply blurting out his need for her help was the right approach. He was also nervous about how she’d react. He couldn’t see her looking down on him because of his problem, so in theory he had no grounds for worry, yet it nagged him just the same.
When he reached her house, he drew in a deep breath, walked up to the porch, and pressed the bell. A tall, thin woman wearing cat-eye-shaped glasses opened the door.
“Hi. I’m here to see Ms. Gibbs.”
“Come on in. She’ll be down in a minute. I’m Marie Jefferson.”
“I’m TC Barbour. Nice to
“Same here. Please, have a seat.”
He sat on the couch.
“Gen says you’re Gary’s uncle.”
“I am. His mother and my late wife were sisters.”
“I see. We all thought real highly of Gary’s mother.”
He didn’t know what to say to that so he simply nodded. When he heard footsteps on the stairs he stood. A second later Genevieve appeared wearing a soft gray turtleneck, jeans, and a smile that warmed him.
“Hello, Mr. Barbour.”
“Hi. I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
“No. Not at all.”
Her roommate watched silently.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Let me grab my jacket.”
She retrieved her leather from the closet and being a gentleman, he walked over to assist.
“Thanks,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
He saw approval in her roommate’s eyes and said to her, “We shouldn’t be gone too long.”
She nodded and they departed.
Outside, he opened the door of his truck so she could get in. “This is nice,” she said, checking it out.
“Thanks.”
After taking his seat on the driver’s side, he confessed, “Not sure why I wanted to go to the July place. I could’ve just as easily talked to you in your living room.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“No. I like the peace there.”
“Then let’s go to Tamar’s, but I have to admit, I’m real curious about whatever this is.”
“Sorry for the drama. It’s not really a big deal, but it kind of is.”
She had such a poker face he had no way of knowing what she was thinking, so he started the engine and drove off.
At the July place they parked and got out. The breeze blowing across the fields was crisp and bracing and the sun was making its way to the horizon. When they reached the picnic table, she sat but he stood with his back to her and gazed out at the slow-moving current in the creek.