Small Town Rumors(13)

“Because I told him not to.”

“Why?” Jennie Sue gasped.

“Because that’s low class. Wilshire women do not work, Jennie Sue. You’ve been raised better than that. And I told your daddy if he gives you a job, then he can’t have any more mistresses,” she said.

“I’m a Baker, not a Wilshire. You said so yourself this morning,” Jennie Sue argued.

“Then have it your way, but don’t expect a dime of your Wilshire inheritance if you feel like that.”

That’s when Charlotte did hang up on her—for real.

Jennie Sue threw the phone at the small sofa and took stock of her new place. The whole thing was smaller than her bedroom at her mother’s house. A small television sat on top of the chest of drawers in front of a sofa that snugged up to the end of a four-poster bed. A galley kitchen was located to her right, with two doors on her left—one into a bathroom and the other into a closet.

A set of french doors led out to a tiny balcony barely big enough to accommodate a plastic lawn chair. She threw her suitcase on the bed, which was covered with a bright-yellow chenille bedspread.

“It beats living in a box in an alley or in a shelter—and it comes with sheets and towels, so I’m not going to gripe,” she said out loud.



Tuesday was Rick’s day to drive the bookmobile to several locations in Bloom, starting at the senior citizens’ center at one o’clock so the elderly folks could turn in books and check them out right after their lunch. He stayed thirty minutes. From there he drove to the bank parking lot and stayed an hour. After that he drove back to the library and spent the time there until it was time for Cricket to get off work.

Reaching the library was his favorite part of the whole week. He could sit in an old, comfortable chair in air-conditioned comfort and read, or else visit with Amos in between customers and replenishing the bookmobile’s stock.

He hurried out of the heat and inside the cool library to find Amos grinning like he’d just found a first edition. The short little guy had a perpetual grin, but today the extra twinkle in his eyes said he was up to something ornery. Amos handed Rick a tall glass of sweet tea and motioned to a couple of chairs over by the library’s two computers.

“Jennie Sue Baker took a job cleaning houses for Nadine and Lettie Clifford.” He sat down, but he could hardly be still.

Rick took the other chair and combed his dark hair back with his fingertips. “Are you crazy? Is this Long Island iced tea or regular old sweet tea?”

“Nope.” Amos shook his head emphatically. “I was right there when she took the job. And that’s not all. I hired her to help me out on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in the bookstore.”

Rick’s eyebrows drew down into one line. “The Jennie Sue Baker, daughter of Dill and Charlotte, granddaughter of the Wilshires?”

“Yep.” Amos was almost giddy.

Rick shook his head and sipped his tea. “I still don’t believe it.”

“It’s the one hundred percent guaranteed gospel truth. Lettie couldn’t wait to take Jennie Sue home with her, and I bet the phone lines have been hot with the news.”

More than a dozen customers who were more interested in the latest news than checking out books kept Amos hopping up and down from his chair. Finally, Cricket rushed into the library and sank down in the chair beside him. “Did you hear? Jennie Sue is going to clean houses for the Clifford sisters. I keep listenin’ for the ambulance on its way toward Charlotte’s house.”

Rick frowned. “It’s good, honest work. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that it’s their princess cleaning houses and living in a tiny little apartment above a garage. And guess what else? She’s been divorced for more than a year. Her husband left her, and the IRS is hot on his trail for income-tax evasion. And he left with another woman,” Cricket said.

Jennie Sue was divorced—he wouldn’t go there. Not with his scars, the limp, and the fact that the only time he was ever somebody was his senior year in high school, when Bloom went to district playoffs. Add in that he was a farmer, and there was no sense in wasting a single minute thinking about her. Besides, she’d get over whatever rebellion she seemed to have fallen into and go back to her lush lifestyle before long. Once a socialite, always a socialite, right?

“We were busy all day. The news spread fast, and people came to the café to talk about it.”

“I hate this behind-the-hands talk,” Rick muttered.

“Not me.” Amos pulled up a wooden chair and joined them. “I love it. Brings excitement into our lives. Charlotte is probably on the verge of a stroke. Dill might even have to leave his business trip with Darlene and come on back home to settle her down. She gets pretty worked up when she doesn’t get her way. Been like that since she was a kid. Jennie Sue never did have that Wilshire temper.”

Some things would never change in Bloom. They had put in new curbs and sidewalks two years ago, and some of the vacant stores on Main Street were occupied now, but if the citizens couldn’t gossip, it wouldn’t be long until the place dried up into a ghost town.

“So what’ve you been readin’? Did you finish Scarlett?” Rick rubbed the scar on his upper arm and tried to steer Amos and Cricket away from the gossip.

“Yep, and then read it again,” Amos answered. “You know, Jennie Sue kind of reminds me of Scarlett. She’s takin’ things into her own hands. I like that in a woman. My sweet wife, Iris, was like that. She didn’t let nobody, not even me, tell her what she could or couldn’t do. Lord, that woman was as stubborn as a cross-eyed mule in a thunderstorm.”