Sitting cross-legged on a blanket, Mel licked barbecue sauce off her fingers and let out a huge sigh. It was awesome to sit in the park and watch the town begin to close up for the night without feeling homeless.
She loved to be outdoors, and she would be happy to sleep in the park again someday—when she didn’t have to. That made all the difference. If she slept under the stars because she wanted to, then it was camping out. If she slept under the stars because she had nowhere else to go, then she was a loser.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. If Darren came by again, she didn’t want to have sauce on her face. Like a messy little kid. Especially because Valentine’s Day was coming up and he might be looking for a special date.
Tish peeked into one of the bags. “Have some more, Mel. There’s plenty. Come on, eat up.”
Tish sure was antsy to finish and get home. Okay, she was probably upset because she wasn’t the one who found a job, but still, she needed to chill out.
“I’m stuffed, but—well, I’ll have some more fries. Bag-a-’Cue has the best fries.” Mel grabbed a handful and dipped one in ketchup. “I loved the way you walked right up to the pick-up counter and said your name, loud and clear. ‘Carry-out order for Letitia McComb, please,’ and the old guy behind the counter nearly had a heart attack.”
Tish laughed. “I ran into him there once before, when I first came to town. Before I knew my name would be a black mark against me.”
“It shouldn’t be. It’s a nice name.”
“When I was a kid, I hated it. My first name, I mean. It’s so old-fashioned. I was probably your age before I decided it was a name I could be proud of.” Her eyes went squinty for a second. “It still is.”
Mel thought about that while she ate her fries. Someday, she would be proud of her name too. She would walk into Bag-a-’Cue and say “Carry-out order for Mel Hamilton,” or maybe she would say “Melanie” to sound more ladylike.
“Maybe it’s time for me to stop being a tomboy,” she said.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a tomboy,” Tish said. “You’ll have to dress and speak appropriately for your job, but be yourself. It’s healthier than putting on an act.”
“Yeah. I never want to be like Amanda.”
“Amanda?”
“The nasty-nice checker at Target, remember?” Mel started imitating Amanda’s voice. “The one with the sweetsie-peetsie baby-doll voice. I’ll never be a prissy-face like her.”
Tish laughed around a mouthful of fries. “Thank God.”
Mel smiled, glad Tish saw through Amanda’s act. Tish was almost like another Hayley. Another friend.
This morning when Mel took the hoodie to the Shell station, Hayley wouldn’t let her give it back. Mel had cried, just a little, once she was outside again. When people were supernice like that, she felt soft as a marshmallow inside. Then crying made her like a marshmallow in the rain, turning into a soggy mess.
There was a certain kind of cop that made her feel that way too. Darren for one, and the old cop who’d talked her out of running away when she was little. If he’d been hard nosed about it, she never would have climbed into his car.
“The sunset makes a nice backdrop for our fancy dinner,” Tish said with a smile.
Leaning her head back, Mel stared out at the red-orange sky. “Yeah. I love to eat outside. When I was little, I’d go to Hayley’s house and her mom would let us have a picnic in the backyard. It felt special, even if it was only PBJ sandwiches.”
“Like coffee tastes special when I make it in my vintage percolator and pour it into a beautiful porcelain cup. But we don’t all have the same ideas about what’s beautiful and what’s not.”
Mel snickered. “George thinks his Chevelle is beautiful.”
“But it is.”
“To him, maybe.”
“Whatever you think of his taste in cars, he’s a nice guy who’s giving you a chance to prove yourself. I hope you’ll be a good employee, and that starts with ‘Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.’ ”
Mel nodded. “Yeah, I’ll try. I always try.”
A woman walked by with a tiny dog on a leash, and it reminded Mel of the last time she walked Daisy. She’d never lied to Calv. She’d said she would take the dog down Main Street, and she did. She just hadn’t mentioned she’d go all the way to the edge of town. She’d carried Daisy most of the way, of course. She was too little for a long, long walk.
But it was all for nothing. Even though the code was stuck in her head, she wouldn’t use it. She had a real job now. She could buy brand-new clothes, maybe one or two things with every paycheck. Nicky was more important than the clothes she could have grabbed from her closet.
Nick, she reminded herself. He wasn’t little-boy Nicky anymore.
A cop car cruised by, and her heart did a somersault. She thought she saw Darren at the wheel. Hoping he was close enough to see her, but not close enough to notice her crappy clothes, she waved.
The driver waved back, but it was a cop she’d never seen before. An older dude. He was blond like Darren but had a hard, square face. Like a robot. She shuddered and zipped up her hoodie.
“It gets cold when the sun goes down,” Tish said. She straightened as if she’d been looking for an excuse to leave. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.” Mel picked up their trash while Tish closed up the carry-out containers. “Thanks, Tish. That was fun. I wish you’d found a job already too.”
“I’ll find one, sooner or later. It might take awhile.”
Walking toward a trash can, Mel watched traffic backing up for a red light half a block away. It was getting too dark to recognize faces inside the vehicles. They were like cocoons made of glass and metal, keeping people boxed up and separated from each other when they were only a few feet apart. Like people could be boxed up in separate rooms in a house, so close to each other but never talking.
She wished she could call her mom and tell her about the job. Maybe she would be just a little bit proud.
On foot in the brisk night air, George turned onto Jackson. Away from the streetlights on Main, he could hardly see the sidewalk curving away in front of him.
He’d chased Daisy down Main for half a block, then slowed to a walk and let her run ahead. He knew where he’d find her. And he didn’t blame her. He was drawn to the old house too, and not just because he used to live there.
When he’d nearly reached Tish’s place, piano music floated into the night. Someone was playing “When the Saints Go Marching In”—but slowly, like a dirge. The playing broke off in the middle of a line. After a short silence, light spilled onto the porch as Tish opened the front door. She turned on the porch light and stepped outside. About to call out, he decided to approach quietly. He wanted to know if Tish, like Si, secretly encouraged the dog’s visits.
Now he was close enough to see Daisy bounding up the steps and into the light. Tish, barefoot and wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, crouched in front of the door, wasting a perfectly beautiful smile on the mutt.
“You little nuisance,” she said. “You think it’s still your house, don’t you?”
George stopped at the beginning of the flagstone walk as the dog rushed Tish in a frenzy of joy. While Daisy feinted attacks and play-growled, Tish played with her and lapsed into baby talk.
“But this is my house, yes it is! Nobody’s gonna run me off. Nobody. I’m staying, yes I am! I live here. If people don’t like me, who cares?” Her voice wavered on the last two words.
George wanted to blurt that he liked her just fine, but he kept his mouth shut.
After one more play-growl, the dog trotted to the door and lifted her head to stare at the doorknob.
“No.” Now Tish’s voice was firm. “Sorry, baby. I live here. You don’t. We’d better call George.”
He cleared his throat and entered the yard. “No need. I’m here.”
“George?” Her cheeks rosy with the cold or maybe with embarrassment, she picked up the dog. “Were you listening while I blathered on?”
“I caught a little bit of it. I just wanted to see if you’d be like Si and give her doggie treats and then complain that she won’t leave you alone.”
“Nope. No treats here. I just hope I didn’t sound like an idiot. It hasn’t been a great day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Sorry about the little nuisance too. I stayed late in the shop to do paperwork. When it was time to head upstairs, she pulled her disappearing act.”
“She’s quite the repeat offender. How does she get out so often?”
“She has a crate in the back room, but I can’t latch it. If I shut her in or tie her up, she makes an unending, ungodly howl that turns my brain inside out. So I give in. I leave the crate open. Sometimes she makes a run for the door before I can get a leash on her.”
“I see,” Tish said slowly. “Well, since you’re here, can you stay awhile? I’d like to talk about a couple of things.”
“Sure.”
They sat halfway down the steps, out of the porch light’s glare. Daisy curled up in Tish’s lap, happy as could be.
“It was kind of you to offer Mel a job,” she said. “She’s so excited.”
“I know. I warned her that it’s not official until we’ve talked about my rules and requirements, but she didn’t seem to hear that part.”
Tish was silent for a moment, scratching the dog behind her ears. “I’m just glad you’re more merciful than Farris.”
“Ed Farris at the bank?”
“You know him?”
“Everybody knows him. He’s a nice guy. What did he do?”
“He practically offered me a job when I first came to town, but that’s all changed. Long story short, I went to the bank to give Marian copies of some letters that Letitia wrote and—”
“You have Letitia’s letters?”
“Yes. A couple dozen, and I scanned them. I can e-mail the files to you if you’re interested, but I won’t let the originals out of my sight.”
Her earnestness made him smile. Old letters written by ordinary people weren’t worth much money, but that wouldn’t affect their nostalgic value. “I’d like that. Thanks. But what happened with Marian?”
Tish let out a sharp sigh. “I thought the letters would soften her attitude, but now she claims to have proof that Nathan was a thief. Not just hearsay but proof from the historical society. To top it all off, Farris changed his mind about me. Now I’m persona non grata.”
George frowned. “Because you’re a McComb? Or because you got into a row with Marian?”
“Neither. Farris won’t hire me because I keep bad company.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “Mel? He won’t hire you because you took her in?”
“Precisely. All his employees must be beyond reproach.”
“Seems a little over the top.”
“You think?” Tish let out a wobbly laugh. “I don’t want that job anyway. Marian would be awful to work with.”
Afraid she was about to lose it, George reached for her hand, then lost his nerve and petted Daisy’s head. “So Marian claims to have evidence from the historical society. That’s the key word. Historical. Whether or not the stories are true, they’re in the past.”
“I know. I should focus on the present.” Tish turned toward him, her face framed softly by long locks of red-brown hair. “No matter what happened here in 1870, this is my home now. Nobody’s going to scare me away.”
“You know the difference between a Yankee and a … well, a Yankee who’s bound for eternity in the lake of fire?”
“The ones who visit versus the ones who stay? Yeah, I’ve heard that old joke, but I’m staying. I don’t care what people call me. I don’t care what they think of me either.”
“No?”
“Okay, sometimes I do. Sometimes I care too much. I want very badly to be accepted, but sometimes I forget to mind my manners and I speak my mind instead. Someday, I’m afraid I’ll say things I shouldn’t say. Do things I shouldn’t do.”
She could be direct, all right, and maybe she didn’t always think before she acted, but at least she did something. “If your heart’s right, your actions can’t be too far off. Case in point, the way you reached out to Mel.”
“You did too,” Tish said. “It’s very generous to hire her, and I don’t mean just about the wages you’ll pay. It’s … moral generosity.”
George squelched a grin. If he’d known hiring Mel would cast him in such a noble light, he might have hired her sooner.
“I see moral generosity on your side too,” he said. “Even though you’re a Yankee.”
She laughed. “Careful there, Mr. Zorbas. You’re skating on thin ice.”
“I know, but I grew up listening to my grandfather always preaching against the world, the flesh, and the devil. Sometimes he mentioned Yankees in the next breath, so I started to think Yankees and devils were one and the same.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He leaned closer, enjoying her cynical little smile. “But I’d be first to admit that some of y’all aren’t too bad. And some of y’all are mighty pretty.”
“And some of you southern gentlemen are mighty forward.” She moved Daisy to his knee and got to her feet.
“Forward? I only—”
“My feet are freezing. Good night, George.”
He rose too. “Tish, I—”
She’d already escaped inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. He carried the dog home, brooding over his extraordinary talent for ruining good conversations.