Second Time Sweeter Read online

  She turned away from the mirror and got into bed. Tomorrow was Monday, the start of a new week. She was done crying over Mal’s betrayal; she had a town to run.

  Chapter 2

  Store manager Gary Clark arrived at Clark’s grocery store at five o’clock Monday morning. The doors wouldn’t open to the public for another two hours, but he and his employees were preparing to begin the day. On the way to his office, he greeted the staff with smiles, calls of “good morning,” and waves. He enjoyed his job, something he hadn’t expected when he began running the place two years ago. Back then, he’d just come off a nasty divorce, gotten custody of his teen daughters, Leah and Tiffany, and relocated their family from Franklin to his hometown of Henry Adams. Bernadine Brown’s proposal that he manage the town’s new grocery store took him by surprise. He’d spent his life selling cars. He knew nothing about selling produce or canned goods, yet he’d agreed. Learning the ins and outs of the business while raising his daughters as a single parent had been difficult. Seeing to their everyday needs of homework, chores, and meals had him burning the candle at both ends.

  Then life changed for the better last spring when his uncle Terence came from Oakland to visit. Quickly assessing what Gary needed, he volunteered to take on some of the household duties. The help had allowed Gary to breathe again, and now for the first time in what felt like decades, he was happy. He had a good job and his girls were thriving. For some men, finding a lady to share their newfound happiness might be icing on the cake, but he was gun-shy after his disastrous marriage and was content to remain single.

  “Morning, Gary.”

  “Morning, Gem.”

  Gemma Dahl was his assistant manager. The Chicago native was raising her grandson, Wyatt, as a single parent after the death of her daughter in Afghanistan. Over the summer she’d taken two orphaned kids into her home with an eye to adopting them as soon as the state gave her the go-ahead. Everyone in town thought she was amazing, and Gary was no exception. After working as a cashier for the past two years, she’d applied for the vacant position of assistant manager, and hiring her was another decision he felt good about.

  In his office he turned on the coffeemaker. Once the coffee was ready, he got himself a cup and sat at his desk to go over the reports left for him by the store’s night manager. He also checked in with the security staff, headed up by Barrett Payne, and with no pressing issues on either front, left his desk to check the store. He and Gemma usually split the duty. They talked to the heads of the departments, inspected the specials stacked at the ends of the aisles, and kept an eye out for any problems with the store’s physical operation. Burned-out lights or nonworking hand dryers in the restrooms were usually taken care of by maintenance, but Gary and Gemma made sure nothing had been overlooked.

  The doors opened at seven and at seven fifteen he was back in his office when he received a call on his headset from security that Mrs. Beadle was on the premises. He sighed. She was one of the store’s recurring problems. When she wasn’t opening a bottle of wine, drinking it, and stashing the empty before getting in line to check out, she was trying to return things that she’d either worn, partially eaten, or purchased elsewhere. Gary wished she’d find another store to share her eccentricities with.

  “Thanks. Keep an eye on her,” he replied into his wireless mic, and turned on the camera bank on his office wall. “Hey, Gem,” he called.

  She appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Beadle is in the store.”

  Gem sighed and walked over to view the camera screens. She and Gary spotted the little old lady in her stylish gray coat and red, high-top Chucks pushing her buggy down the baking aisle. As she passed the shelves of sugar and flour, the woman quickly glanced around, reached into the cart, and unscrewed the top of a bottle of red wine. Taking a good-sized swallow, she hastily redid the top, put the bottle back in her cart, and began making her way down the aisle again.

  “Why doesn’t she just buy the wine?” Gemma asked.

  “Who knows? I talked to her son in DC. He says she has plenty of money. He thinks she likes the attention when she’s caught.”

  “She needs a good therapist.”

  “She needs something.” Gary peered at the screen more closely and asked, “Is her bag moving, or is it just my eyes?”

  Gemma stared. Mrs. Beadle had a large flower-patterned tote in the buggy’s well, and yes, it appeared to be moving. “Do we want to know what’s in it?”

  “No, but—” and as he said that, a brown Chihuahua stuck its pointed nose out of the bag, looked around, and leaped to the floor.

  In Gary’s ear, the security supervisor let out a loud curse.

  Gemma was already flying out the door and Gary was right behind her.

  It only took a few minutes for them to get to the floor, but by then, the store was in full chaos mode. Customers were jumping out of the way, some screaming, others laughing as the snapping, growling dog ran through legs and around buggies in its effort to stay ahead of the store employees hot on its tail. Mrs. Beadle was among the chasers, screaming shrilly, “Don’t hurt him!” And “Lorenzo! Lorenzo!” Which Gary guessed to be the little terror’s name. And of course, people had their phones out filming the madness. Because the store was a good size and little dogs were not only fast but could turn on a dime, they lost Lorenzo in the produce section.

  Gary turned to Barrett. “Well, now what?”

  “Probably send everybody outside so we can do a thorough search.”

  Mrs. Beadle was nearby peering around, clapping her hands and shouting, “Lorenzo! Get over here!”

  Gary asked, “Who names a dog Lorenzo?”

  Gemma walked up. “Someone in the store called the health department. I just got off the phone with them. We’re to find the dog and close the store. They have to do an inspection before we can open again.”

  Gary looked at his watch. It was only 8:00 a.m. He needed a drink.

  Bernadine arrived at her office in the building the town affectionately called the Power Plant and turned on the lights. As always, she was the first to arrive. Stashing her handbag in her desk, she booted up her laptop, turned on the coffeemaker, and sat down to begin her day. Henry Adams had come a long way since she purchased it on eBay five years ago. Back then, there’d been no tax base or infrastructure, and the small core of residents, many of whom were descendants of the town’s nineteenth-century founders, were mostly senior citizens. Now, thanks to her business acumen and generosity, it was a twenty-first-century jewel fueled by growth in both people and modern technology. The freed slaves who founded Henry Adams after the Great Exodus of 1879 certainly wouldn’t recognize the place.

  “Morning.”

  She looked up to see her good friend and administrative assistant Lily Fontaine July. “Morning, Lil.”

  Lily had gone to high school in Henry Adams, but moved away after college. She’d returned the year Bernadine purchased the town and was now married to Mayor Trent July, her high school sweetheart.

  “Mal had dinner with us last night.”

  Bernadine paused. “And . . . ?”

  “Devon told him he should paint Marie’s fence.”

  Bernadine’s smile peeped out. “Is it wrong that I love him for saying that, because I agree.” Painting the Jefferson fence was a long-standing Henry Adams tradition used to punish kids who screwed up.

  “I do too, but Trent told him to save it for another time. Devon didn’t like that and ended up leaving the table. Amari, too.”

  She’d worried about the kids’ responses to the theft by their OG—as they affectionately called Mal. “Mal have a rebuttal?”

  “No, but their leaving the table hurt him a lot.”

  “I’ll be petty and say ‘good.’ It’s what he deserves. Those boys worshipped the ground he walked on.”

  “I’m not sure if Devon’s hurt is sincere, though. Knowing him, he was just being a smart-ass. But Amari’s pretty torn up. He hasn’t talked t
o us about it yet, but we can tell.”

  Bernadine’s heart went out to him. He took being a July seriously and to have his idol crash and burn in such a stupid way was undoubtedly devastating.

  Lily then relayed the conversation about the keys.

  “How’d Mal respond to that?” Bernadine asked.

  “Not well. Wanted to know if it was your idea.”

  Bernadine blew out a breath. “Of course. Blame me because all of this is my fault.”

  “I know. I just want to shake Mal because this is breaking Trent’s heart, too. He hasn’t shared much of his feelings, either.”

  Bernadine imagined Trent’s pain to be like her own. From the stories shared with her about Mal’s years as an alcoholic, she’d learned that the then-teenage Trent had been thrust into the role of parent. Rather than let her sadness rise further, she changed the subject. “How’re the class reunion plans going?”

  “Pretty well. I’ve gotten most RSVPs back. We’re going to have quite a crowd. I’m hoping the weekend will put a smile back on my honey’s face. He could use some fun.” Lily was organizing a reunion of the people she and Trent had gone to high school with. It would be held in two weeks.

  Lily continued, “We have a committee meeting this evening, so I have a few things to work on. Do you need my help with anything?”

  “I don’t. Going to go over to the Sutton place and check on the Millers in a few. Their appliances are scheduled to arrive today.” Pastry chef Sam Miller and his accountant wife, Brenda, had recently relocated to Henry Adams from Vegas. They were opening the town’s first combo coffee shop and bakery. Bernadine liked the couple and looked forward to their integration into the community.

  Lily said, “Okay, tag me if anything comes up.”

  “Lil?”

  Lily stopped.

  Bernadine said, “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

  “Not a problem. You know how much I love you. Just trying to help.”

  “Doing a great job.”

  Lily nodded thanks and left Bernadine alone.

  Seeing the Millers was at the top of her to-do list, but as always, there was more. BFF Tina Craig intended to open the town’s first bed-and-breakfast and would be flying in later to show the blueprint for the structure drawn up by her architect. Bernadine was eager to see what Tina had in mind. If everything worked out, being able to enjoy their decades-long friendship daily was a joy to contemplate. She also had to stop by the Dog and make sure the diner’s kitchen was running smoothly. With Mal in the role of persona non grata, and the co-owner, Rochelle “Rocky” Dancer James, away on her honeymoon, Rocky’s trusted assistant, Matt “Sizzle” Burke, was in charge. Although only in his twenties, Siz was competent, trustworthy, and one of the best young chefs around.

  She also wondered if she needed to check on Kyrie Abbott, the new teacher hired as a substitute while Jack was on his honeymoon with Rocky. Bernadine usually left school matters to Superintendent Marie Jefferson, but Marie and her best friend, Genevieve Barbour, along with Gen’s husband, TC, were in Alaska visiting his son. Abbott was twenty-seven and hailed from Baton Rouge. His degree from LSU was in elementary ed and American history. Marie said his résumé, filled with the community organizations he’d been involved with at home, placed him head and shoulders above everyone else she’d interviewed. Upon Jack’s return, Abbott would be given his own classroom and teach the younger kids.

  Checking her email one more time and finding nothing needing her immediate attention, she gathered her belongings and left the office.

  Bernadine loved fall. The cool crisp weather and bright sunshine were always a balm after the hot and humid stickiness of summer. But on the plains of Kansas, autumn could be a step or two away from the cold and snow of winter, so she did her best to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. She parked her blue Ford F-150, lovingly called Baby, at the curb and got out to walk to the doors of the newly refurbished Sutton Hotel. The Italian artisans Lily found to restore the historic stone façade had done a magnificent job and the structure sparkled in the sunlight. Inside, as she crossed the small atrium with its gorgeous plants and large skylight, her heels echoed softly on the beautiful tiled floor.

  The building had two levels. Loft apartments were upstairs, while business offices occupied the first floor. To her left were glass doors leading to the Liberian Ladies and Gents Salon, the beauty shop managed by hairdresser Kelly Douglas. Kelly’s assistant, former mayor and resident pest Riley Curry, served as barber. The shop didn’t open until ten, so the place was closed. Next door was the office of private investigator Sandy Langster. Bernadine hadn’t seen Sandy since Rocky and Jack’s wedding, so she assumed she was somewhere covering a case. Down a hallway in the back of the building was the practice of pediatrician Dr. Reg Garland. Until now, he’d been working out of a clinic over at the school. He was glad to finally have a dedicated spot, and Bernadine was, too. The Millers’ coffee shop was on her right. It was the largest business in the front of the building. As she pulled open the doors and walked in, she was pleased to see the shop starting to take shape. The tables and chairs were in. The ceiling with its pot lighting was finished, and the long, polished wood-topped counter had been installed. The large window facing the street gleamed in the sunshine.

  Sam Miller came out of the back. “Hey, Ms. Brown. Good morning.” He was tall, bald, and the size of an NFL linebacker.

  “Morning, and please, for the fiftieth time, call me Bernadine.”

  He grinned. “Just trying to put some respect on your name, as the young kids say.”

  His wife, the diminutive Brenda, joined them. “Morning, Bernadine. How are you?”

  Bernadine smiled. “Morning. I’m fine. Still trying to convince your hubby to call me by my given name. But I appreciate the respect.”

  Brenda turned loving eyes on her big bear of a mate. “We’ll work on him.”

  Bernadine remembered viewing Mal with the same mushy sentiment, but immediately squashed the memory. “The shop looks to be coming along nicely. How about giving me a tour?”

  “We’d love to.”

  So, she was shown the new ovens, mixers, and the other industrial appliances, along with cases of flour, sugar, and yeast. There were pots and pans, cast-iron skillets, and boxes of raisins, nuts, and spices. In addition to coffee, the shop would be offering a variety of Sam’s made-from-scratch breakfast pastries and breads.

  “The refrigerators and coffeemakers are coming this afternoon,” Brenda informed her.

  Bernadine asked, “When will you be ready for customers?”

  “If the deliveries come through, we should be ready Friday morning. We’re interviewing employees online now, too.”

  “Music to my ears,” she said. “Hours of operation?”

  “Six a.m. to five,” Sam replied proudly.

  “Folks in town are going to love you.”

  “I hope so. We’d like to stay in business for a while, you know.”

  Brenda said, “I like the peacefulness here. You don’t get much crime, do you?”

  Bernadine thought about the fire set by Odessa Stillwell and the mess a few weeks back with former social worker Aretha Krebbs. “Every now and then we have to call the authorities, but every inch of town is covered by cameras. If anything does jump off, we can often view it in real time.”

  The couple shared a pleased look.

  “Any other questions or concerns?”

  They had none.

  Impressed that everything seemed to be in order, she said, “Thanks for the tour. I’m off to my next stop. Keep me updated on the deliveries.”

  Brenda promised. “Will do.”

  Bernadine got back in Baby and drove the short distance to the Dog. Breakfast was still being served, so she planned to sit and eat. She wondered if Mal was still around or if he’d gone back to Oklahoma. If she crossed paths with him, she was determined to be pleasant. Not that he deserved it. The parts of herself that still loved him were sadd
ened by the consequences playing out in his life. The Dog was his baby and one of the anchors he’d used to ground him as he conquered his alcohol addiction. No longer having a say in the operations probably saddened him, but he should’ve taken that into consideration when he stuck his hand in the cookie jar. Harsh? Maybe. But it was the truth.

  Pulling into the parking lot coincided with a text from Gary Clark that read: Dog loose in store. Health dept. on way. Shut down for now. Keep you posted.

  Her first instinct was to drive there but she decided not to. Had Gary needed her on-site, he would’ve said so. Wondering why her town was never calm and uneventful, she got out and walked to the entrance of the Dog.

  As always, the diner was crowded. The chatter of myriad conversations rose over the jukebox playing Grover Washington’s iconic “Black Frost.”

  At the hostess stand stood Kim, one of the college students who made up most of the waitstaff. “Morning, Kim.”

  “Morning, Ms. Brown.”

  Bernadine took a quick glance around the dining room. “Has Mr. July been in?”

  “Not that I know of. Siz may, though.”

  “Okay. I’ll go talk to him, then come back and have something to eat.”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.”

  In the kitchen, rap music blared on the CD player. Siz and his assistant chef, Randy Emerson, were flipping and frying and dicing and chopping while the waitstaff grabbed plates and platters and moved in and out of the double doors with choreographed precision. “Morning, Siz!”