Sweet Caroline(89)

“You’ll see.” It’s all I can do not to burst with the sheer thrill of my secret.

To: CSweeney, JesslovesRay

From: Elle Garvey

Subject: Operation Wedding Day

Okay, y’all, Operation Wedding Day is closed for Christmas. I want this to be a happy time, celebrating with friends and my family. Why purposefully risk depressing myself with a dateless holiday season. Or worse, remember it as How the Geeks Stole Christmas.

Caroline, I sold the sketch of you today. Half goes to you. Merry Christmas.

So, let’s get this holiday season started. I say girls’ Christmas party at my place, gift exchange, and fun food. What do you say? I’ll make up a party list and send it to you. I heard Carrie Campbell just moved back to town. Too fun. Haven’t seen her in far too long.

Love, Elle

By the first week of December, my flight to Barcelona is booked. Hazel and I have chatted a dozen times about travel plans and living arrangements. She hooked me up with the company that moved her belongings. I don’t have much, but the armoire is coming with. She sympathized with me over Mitch, while commending me for making a bold decision.

Naturally, she informed Carlos. My stock soared.

In the evenings, I’m cleaning out the carriage house. Daddy and Posey agreed to take Jones’s furniture for the sunroom they’re adding onto the house, and his books. When Posey got a close look, her eyes rolled back in her head and she drooled.

Except the Bible. That goes with me.

Cherry wanted his antique chest of drawers and footlocker. She and Henry are doing so well, and we never talk about the night Cherry came into my office afraid for her marriage.

Tonight, I must decide about Jones’s old records. Tapping my cell phone gently against the palm of my hand, I pause, knowing what I want to do, but nervous to try.

Inhaling, I dare myself to dial. I’m surprised when he answers.

“I didn’t expect this call.”

“Hey, Mitch, how are you?” As I walk toward the bookshelf, nervous tension chills my fingers.

“Doing well. What’s up?”

The tenderness his voice used to carry for me is missing. Now his tone is the one he uses with all his regular friends. But, I made my choice. I won’t lament it.

“I’m packing up the carriage house. I wondered if you wanted Jones’s old LPs.”

“Really? I’d love to have them. Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas.” I run my finger along the shelf ’s edge.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Will I see you before I go?”

“I don’t know.”

I swallow. “Oh, of course. Well, then I guess this is Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”

“Guess so.” There’s resolve in his voice. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too. I’ll drop the albums off at your folks’.”

“I hope Barcelona is all you want it to be, Caroline.”

I want to remind him of how much I love him, but I don’t. “So, see you around?”

“See you around.”

Two days later, Kirk calls. “Judge granted our petition. Probation is closed. Congratulations.”

My skin tightens with excitement. “So this is it.”

“On to phase two. Dale and Roland want to set a time to come down and close the deal. They’re ready to hand you a check.”

“They divided the money, right?”

“Confirmed it with them yesterday. After taxes and my fee, taking out ten-grand bonuses for Russell, Luke, and Paris, the remainder is divided evenly between you, Andy, and Mercy Bea.”

Is my smile breaking my face? “I’m putting their checks in their Christmas cards.”

“They’re going to flip.”

“Thank you, for everything, Kirk.”

“Caroline, it’s been an honor. Never met anyone like you.”





DAILY SPECIAL


Monday, December 17

Country Omelet

Shrimp Grits

Bubba’s Buttery Biscuits

Sausage, Bacon, Country Ham

Fried Apples

Eggnog

Tea, Soda, Coffee.

$7.99


37

At three in the morning, I’m wide-awake. Today is my last day as owner of the Frogmore Café. By the afternoon, Jones’s legacy will be in the Buzz Boys’ hands. Trying to sleep when I’m restless is annoying, so I get up. Andy will be along in an hour anyway. Might as well get ready and head over to the Café, get the coffee started.

The morning is calm and quiet, but clean, cold, and exhilarating. I plug in all the Christmas lights, then sit in the breakfast-club boys’ booth.

The Café is quiet—no moans or creaks—as if sitting with me in soli-darity. Thank you, Caroline.

In the warm, white glow of the lights, the worn places in the Café disappear. The vinyl booths shine like new, and the walls aren’t dirty and dull. I’m lost in a sleepy thought when a loud bang resonates from the front door. Jumping awake, I peer through the window.

Mitch is on the other side.

Unlocking the door, I step aside for him to enter, leaning against the frame. “Hey.” My heart thud-thuds when his clean, showered scent kisses my nose.