Gone South (25 page)

George stood at the counter, taping up a box full of carefully packed Victorian Christmas ornaments for an online customer and brooding over the unfixable wrongs of the world. An internship in college had shown him the ugly truth about big business that relied on sweatshop merchandise, but it had been years before he’d realized that the antiques trade had its dirty little secrets too. Victorians had had their sweatshops. Precious metals and jewels had started untold wars over the centuries. All over the globe, every form of commerce was tainted by someone’s misfortune for someone else’s profit.

The bell tinkled. He looked up, and Mel’s forlorn face nearly broke his heart.

It wasn’t right for parents to shut their only daughter out of their home. Never in a million years could it be right.

“Good to see you, Mel,” he said. “You want to borrow the dog again? Please?”

“Is she here?”

“Sleeping in the back room.”

She came closer, slowly. “Let her sleep.” She stopped beside the 1941 Coke machine and inspected it. “This is a gloomy store. All these things used to belong to dead people.”

George smiled. “When the merchandise belonged to them, they were still very much alive. You’re right, though. I go to a lot of estate sales and buy merchandise that belonged to people who’ve died.”

“See what I mean? It’s creepy.”

He shook his head. “It’s only a business. Like any other business.”

She kept her eyes downcast. “Any chance you could give me a job?”

He hesitated, wanting to spare her feelings. “I probably don’t need anybody right now.”

“Nobody does. Well, that’s what they say, anyway. I applied at the Shell station and a few other places, but everybody turned me down. They’d already
made up their minds before I walked in.” She looked up. “Maybe they really don’t need help, but I think they don’t trust me.”

And you don’t either
, her eyes said.

“Tell me about your recent employment history,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Where have you been for the last couple of years? Where have you worked? Actually, start before that. Start with the jobs you had before you left town.”

“Well, I worked for the Engelbrights at their produce stand, and then I worked at the Howards’ gift shop. And … then I hit the road.”

“For Vegas?”

“Vegas? I’ve never been to Vegas. I went to Florida. I figured if I couldn’t find work, I’d at least stay warm. And I’d heard there’d be oranges growing alongside the road so I wouldn’t starve.” She paused. “That’s not exactly true.”

“No,” George agreed. “Where did you work in Florida?”

She gave him a crooked smile. “I can’t stand the smell of fish, so where’d I end up working? At a seafood joint. Blech.”

“Where was this?”

“Orlando. A girl I knew from high school was working there, and she helped me get in. I got fired, though. They said I stole some cash, but I promise I didn’t. I was framed.”

“Sounds like your two jobs in Noble too. That’s a little coincidental, Mel.”

“I was framed,” she said, enunciating the words with precision.

She sounded utterly sincere, of course. Utterly truthful. But she was quite the actress. Or maybe she’d talked herself into believing she’d been framed. Three times.

“Look, Mel,” he said as gently as he could. “I don’t need an employee right now. If I have to go somewhere, I can lock up and leave. Or sometimes Calv helps me out.”

“I know,” she said in a quiet, tired voice.

“And if I hired you …” He took a breath and let it out, wishing he didn’t have to say it aloud. “Frankly, I’d be afraid to leave you here by yourself.”

“I know,” she said again. “I just thought I’d ask.” She turned away, her shoulders sagging.

He couldn’t hire her. If he did, he’d have to watch her all the time. But Tish was giving her a chance. And she was Mel, like a kid sister. Maybe, given a second chance—or was it her seventeenth chance or so?—she’d straighten up simply because somebody finally believed in her.

“Mel, wait,” he said.

She shook her head and started walking.

“We could do a trial run. Maybe.”

She stopped but wouldn’t face him. “What do you mean?”

“I might be able to hire you. Part time, on a trial basis. But you’ll have to fill out an application and be very clear about what my conditions are.” He waited, studying the back of her head.

She straightened, seeming to grow an inch. “For real?”

“For real, but only two or three days a week. Minimum wage. And you’ll have to abide by my rules.”

She spun around and came back to the counter, her face alight. “Well, it’d be something anyway.”

“But if you steal so much as a paper clip, you’re fired. If you’re one minute late, you’re fired. If you’re rude to a customer, you’re fired.”

“Fired? For being rude?”

“Yes ma’am. You’ll have to be courteous to the customers. Every single one, even the ones you don’t like. Think of it as a game. Fool them into thinking you like them.”

“I know people who try to do that to me. People who pretend to like me and trust me when they don’t. But they don’t fool me.”

George leaned against the counter, bringing himself down to her eye level. “I won’t pretend to trust you. I want to, but I’m not there yet. I’m willing to give you a try, though. Don’t let me down.”

She returned the look, her eyes solemn. “I won’t let you down.”

“Okay, then. Can you come back tomorrow morning and we can go over the details and conditions?”

She nodded eagerly. “What time?”

“Eight thirty, and don’t be late. I’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out. Come around to the back door because the front will be locked.”

“Oh, wow, I can’t wait to tell Tish,” she said breathlessly. “Thanks, George. Thank you so much.”

“But it’s not quite official yet,” he said.

Ignoring or not hearing that last warning, she hustled toward the door. The bell tinkled to mark her exit.

What had he done? He was halfway to hiring an employee he didn’t need and couldn’t trust. Already, he found himself worrying about the small and valuable antiques that might wander into Mel’s pockets.

After retreating from the bank in defeat, Tish had spent the rest of the morning diligently job-hunting online and tweaking her résumé. She’d hoped to stay so busy that she wouldn’t have time to be mad at herself, but it hadn’t worked.

She shouldn’t have counted on the job at the bank. She shouldn’t have invested so much time and emotional energy in reading those stupid old letters. She shouldn’t have assumed that she’d be welcome in Noble. She probably shouldn’t have moved in the first place.

Now it was late afternoon. The mail truck had gone by already, but Tish decided she wouldn’t run outside for her mail until the truck made its return trip on the other side of the street. Pacing the living room, she kept one ear on the street and rehearsed what she wanted to say to her neighbor.

“Look, lady,” she said under her breath. “Don’t pretend to be nice. You hate me for being the idiot who gave that terrible Mel Hamilton a place to stay when her own parents wouldn’t.”

Hearing the mail truck, she cracked the door open to watch. The truck pulled up in front of the green house, paused for a few seconds, and moved on to the next house.

“Okay, snotty neighbor,” she said. “Stop avoiding me.”

Mel had told her the woman’s name was Mrs. Nair and she used to be the school nurse. That was all Tish knew, besides the fact that Mrs. Nair seemed
to be allergic to contact with her new neighbor. Twice now, Tish had stepped outside to introduce herself, and the woman had nipped back inside as if she’d seen a ghost.

Mrs. Nair’s screen door opened, and she stepped onto the porch. Slowly, limping a little, she made her way down the steps and across her yard. When she was busy unlatching the gate of her white picket fence, Tish made her move.

Trying to be quiet about it, she hurried out of the house and across the yard. After a quick check for traffic, she jogged across the street, gaining the curb just as Mrs. Nair reached her mailbox. Perfect timing. The woman couldn’t retreat now, with her mail only inches away. Up close, her beaky nose and spiky hair reminded Tish of some exotic bird—in a lavender pantsuit.

“Hi, Mrs. Nair,” Tish said with forced cheer. “I’ve been hoping you’d give me a chance to introduce myself. I’m your new neighbor, Letitia McComb.” She stuck out her hand.

Mrs. Nair clasped it. “Annalee Nair, and I’m so glad to finally meet you. A couple of times when I was letting the cat in or out, I was too embarrassed to come out and say hey. Sometimes I’m up all night with my husband—he’s in poor health—so my days and nights get turned around, like a baby, and there I am, still in my pajamas in broad daylight.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “They’re scandalous too. About twenty years old and threadbare.”

Rapidly reassessing the woman, Tish could only laugh. “I have some awful pajamas too. They’re not threadbare, but they’re ugly. Pink with yellow duckies.”

Mrs. Nair whooped with laughter, a delight to Tish’s ears.

“Woo-hoo!” someone shouted. “Yeeeeeee-haw!” Mel charged up the sidewalk like a schoolgirl turned loose for summer vacation.

Tish took a quick breath. “I was just about to tell you I have a houseguest, and here she comes. Mel Hamilton.”

Mrs. Nair peered down the street. “Is that Mel? I don’t know how many children I knew in my forty-five years as a school nurse, but she’s one I’ll never forget.”

Mel was approaching rapidly, her face aglow and her hair a mess. “I got a job!” she yelled. “I got a job!”

“Congratulations,” Tish said. “Where?”

“George! George’s shop! He hired me.”

Great
, Tish thought. She’d lost the bank job because Farris heard she’d taken Mel in. Now Mel had a job—with George, who didn’t need an employee.

Mel slowed her pace for the last few feet and drew up beside them. “Hello, Mrs. Nair,” she said, panting a little.

“Hello, Melanie. My, you do favor your mama.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Better her than—” She stopped short and flashed a grin. “Tish is awesome, Mrs. Nair. She’s really generous and everything.” She turned to Tish. “Now I can be generous too. I’ll have moneeeeeeeeey!”

“You’ll need to be careful with your money before you can be generous,” Tish said. “Once you know how much you’ll be making, I can help you set up a budget. And I can take you to the bank to open an account.”

Mel’s smile faded. “A budget?”

Calv’s blue pickup slowed in front of the house. He lifted a hand in a lazy wave and pulled onto the track that led back to the garage.

“Oh! I have to tell him about the job,” Mel said breathlessly. “Yee-haw, the job!” She raced across the street, her sneakers slapping hard on the pavement, and chased the truck around the house.

“My goodness.” The retired nurse reached into her mailbox for her mail. “So much energy. She’s a handful, that one, but I always had a soft spot in my heart for her. She wasn’t favored in school, you know.”

“She mentioned that, but I don’t know the details.”

Mrs. Nair started sorting her mail and sighed. “Well, I’m glad she found a job when jobs are so scarce. I hope it will work out well for both her and George.”

“Me too.” Tish said good-bye and walked across the street to her own mailbox. Junk mail, a magazine, and bills. Bills, bills, bills. She didn’t want to look at them, much less open them.

A quick glance at her next-door neighbors’ house confirmed that they weren’t venturing out for their mail. Sooner or later, she would meet them too. She headed inside, grateful for so much but worried at the same time. If she couldn’t find a job, she wouldn’t be able to pay her bills. She’d get behind on her house payment, and that would add to her reputation as one of those less-than-respectable McCombs. An unemployed McComb. A slouch. And a Yankee to boot.

She walked slowly up the stairs and lay across her bed. Calv’s laughter rang out, muffled by distance, and she imagined Mel out there in the garage, regaling him with her tale of landing a job the first day she started looking.

Closing her eyes, Tish revisited the day, starting with Mel trudging away that morning, looking defeated before she’d begun, and ending with the way she’d raced home, screaming that George had hired her. He could have played the just-protecting-my-business card, like Farris, but he hadn’t.

Tish smiled. “Bless you, George,” she whispered, suddenly smitten with him for taking a chance on Mel.

On the other hand, it was aggravating that Mel found a job when she was the reason the bank job hadn’t worked out for Tish.

Tish frowned, remembering her conversation with Farris, and before that, her encounter with Marian. The anger, the frustration, the pitiful attempt at peeling out of a parking lot in a Volvo. Well, none of it mattered now, at least for a little while.

She needed to come up with a celebration dinner for Mel. A cheap one.