Mystic Park (2 page)

“How are your plans for your musical progressing?” Peyton's question pushed the ghosts of performances past back into the corners of his mind.

“I appreciate your not-so-subtle encouragement.” Vaughn smiled at the university's newest faculty member.

Peyton had arrived in Trinity Falls in July via New York City. She was now dating Darius Knight, one of Vaughn's childhood friends and the town newspaper's managing editor. The journalist was a lucky man.

“That's not an answer.” Peyton gave him a chastising look.

“I'm ready to start production.” He forced the words past the uncertainty weaving doubts in his mind.

“You don't sound ready. What's holding you back?”

Vaughn paused in the hallway just outside the auditorium. Benita's refusal to return to Trinity Falls still hurt. “I'm not sure I can do this alone.”

Peyton stopped beside him. “Producing a musical is a lot of work. I'm sure you'll need help.”

Vaughn hesitated. “Would you have time to help me?”

“Me?” Peyton's winged eyebrows flew toward her hairline.

“I know it's a lot to ask. I'll understand if you're busy.”

“I want to help”—Peyton spread her arms—“but I don't know anything about producing a play.”

“You did a great job cochairing the fund-raising committee for the Guiding Light Community Center last winter.”

Peyton dropped her arms. “Fund-raising is a lot different from the theater. I can throw a party. But you need someone who knows what's involved in producing a performance.”

Once again, Benita invaded Vaughn's mind. In high school, they'd been members of their drama club. Now she worked in the entertainment industry. She had years of experience with performances: contracts, budgets, schedules, logistics. But he shut down that road before he traveled too many miles. He had to let go of Benita. She'd made him realize that two days ago.

“I'll try it alone first. Maybe I can handle it.” Vaughn began walking in the direction of Peyton's office near the end of the hallway.

“Isn't there someone in Trinity Falls who's been involved with plays?”

“We don't have a community theater.”

The building was just coming awake with other faculty members preparing for early morning classes. Vaughn gave a nod of greeting to housekeeping staff as he escorted Peyton down the hall. It was the last full week of March. Midterms were behind them. Spring break was around the corner. The air was brittle with tension as the school year rocketed toward finals week.

“I don't think it's a good idea for you to produce this play on your own.” Peyton sounded worried. “Why don't you make a list of the things that need to be done, then give us assignments so we can help you?”

The “us” Peyton referred to were their mutual friends, most of whom had known each other since childhood. They were each other's Constant Cavalry. If ever one of them was in a bind, all he or she had to do was call. “If I get overwhelmed, I'll consider that.”

Peyton stopped, prompting Vaughn to halt beside her. “There's no ‘if' about it. You're going to need help. It took a lot of courage to get to this point. I don't want you to become discouraged and give up on your dream. You've worked too hard.”

Peyton spoke with the passion of someone who knew what it was like to gather one's courage for a leap of faith. She'd taken a similar leap when she'd left her familiar life in New York City to start over in Trinity Falls, Ohio.

Vaughn smiled. “I promise that, if I need help, I'll ask.”

“All right.” Peyton gave him a dubious look. “But I'm going to stay on you about this.”

“Fair enough.”

But Peyton wouldn't need to. This musical wasn't his only goal. Vaughn was hitting the Play button on his life and putting himself back on the market. If Benita wasn't going to be part of his future, he'd find someone who was interested.

CHAPTER 2

“Are you going to spend your entire visit moping around my home?” Ms. Helen spoke with her back to Benita Monday afternoon.

Benita frowned from the threshold of her great-aunt's kitchen. She wasn't moping around.
Am I?

She took in the small, neat figure of the elderly woman standing in front of the kitchen sink. Her great-aunt Helen filled her kettle with water before moving on to her stove. She wore an oversized vivid floral-patterned blouse over sage green yoga pants. Pink ballet slippers protected her dainty feet.

“I'm going to mope around Harmony Cabins tomorrow.” Benita lowered herself onto a seat at the kitchen table. “I want to check on Audra. I'll probably shift my moping to Books and Bakery Wednesday.”

“At least you have a plan.” Ms. Helen fired up the burner under the kettle, then faced Benita. “I hope you snap out of it before we meet with Foster on Friday. If he sees you looking so sulky, he'll think I'm not feeding you.”

Benita smiled at the idea. “Aunt Helen, I don't think anyone would think I'm missing meals.”

“What's wrong?” Her great-aunt's thin, arched eyebrows knitted with concern. She joined Benita at the table. “Did you and Vaughn argue?”

“Vaughn?” Benita kept her expression blank.

“You remember Vaughn.” Ms. Helen spoke with the patience of a nurse, comforting an amnesiac. “He's the nice young man you dated in high school. He teaches music at the university now. You have sex with him at least once every time you return to Trinity Falls.”

Shock wiped Benita's mind clean. “You know about that?”

“This is Trinity Falls.” Ms. Helen rose from her seat at the table and crossed to the cabinet beside her stove. “Did you really think no one would notice?”

“People are talking about us?”

“I don't know about all that.” Her great-aunt took three mugs from her cupboard and set them on the counter. “Probably, although there are plenty of other things to talk about in this town.”

“Oh. My. God.” Benita's gaze swept the kitchen without seeing the bright green walls and ivory cabinets that made the room seem spacious and cheery. “Why didn't Vaughn tell me?”

“I wouldn't have.” Ms. Helen selected tea bags from a separate cupboard and placed one in each mug.

“Why not?” Benita's gaze lifted to the back of Ms. Helen's head. Her great-aunt had pinned her snow white hair into a neat, thick chignon.

“What does it matter if people are talking about you? Your visits are so brief. You're not usually here long enough to hear the gossip.”

Ms. Helen checked the clock on the wall across the kitchen. Benita followed her gaze. It was a couple of minutes before noon. She puzzled at her great-aunt's actions. Why was she preparing three mugs of tea when there were only two of them in her house? Was she right to be concerned about the older woman's health and her ability to continue living on her own?

Benita started to ask about the third mug of tea when the kettle came to a boil. Ms. Helen turned off the burner just as the front doorbell rang.

“I'll get it.” Ms. Helen gave Benita a critical look. “Try to look pleasant, dear. We don't want our company to think I've been beating you.”

“Yes, Aunt Helen.” Benita stood to trail her relative to the foyer. Ms. Helen's soft laughter floated back to her. Benita shook her head at her relative's twisted sense of humor.

Ms. Helen stood on her toes to check her peephole before releasing her locks. She stepped back, pulling the front door wide. “Alonzo, how nice of you to stop by.”

“It's good to see you, Ms. Helen.” Their guest's warm baritone rumbled across the threshold before he entered the foyer. Ms. Helen closed and locked the door behind him.

Sheriff Alonzo Lopez was old enough to be Benita's father, but that didn't detract one bit of her appreciation for his exotic good looks. He removed his brown campaign hat, revealing his still-dark, wavy hair. His tall, lean, broad-shouldered frame was impressive in his sheriff's uniform: brown shirt, black tie, and green gabardine pants. Or maybe it was his build that made the uniform look impressive.

His dark, coffee-colored eyes smiled at her. “Welcome home, Benita. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, Sheriff. And you?”

“I can't complain.” The understatement of the year, considering the happiness and well-being Benita felt radiating from him in waves.

“No, you can't, considering you're marrying one of the most wonderful people in Trinity Falls. Congratulations.” Benita watched with delight as Alonzo's smile spread into a grin. She felt a twinge of envy.

According to her great-aunt, Alonzo had been in love with Doreen Fever—now the mayor of Trinity Falls as well as manager of the café at Books & Bakery—since they were in high school. Now nearing retirement, the sheriff was finally going to marry the great love of his life. In contrast, Benita had just broken up with her high school sweetheart. Wasn't life something?

“Doreen is
one
of the most wonderful people in town.” Alonzo's expression softened at the mention of his fiancée. “Your great-aunt is equally a treasure.”

Benita smiled in agreement. “You shouldn't let Aunt Helen hear you say that, though. It'll go straight to her head.”

“Save your backhanded compliments.” Ms. Helen waved a small, seemingly frail hand. “Would you like some tea, Alonzo?”

Benita frowned as she recalled the three mugs of tea on the counter beside her great-aunt's stove.

“If it's not too much trouble.” Alonzo tucked his campaign hat under his arm.

“No trouble at all.” Ms. Helen led them back to her kitchen. “We were just about to have some ourselves.”

Alonzo waited for Benita to follow her great-aunt before accompanying them to the kitchen. How had Ms. Helen known to prepare three mugs of tea? Had she known Alonzo was on his way? But she'd seemed surprised to find him on her doorstep. Benita shrugged the mystery aside. She had enough weighing on her mind. Vaughn had broken up with her after eighteen years of their on-again-off-again romance. And she needed to find a way to convince Ms. Helen to move into an assisted living home.

About half an hour later, Benita cleared the table after their tea with Alonzo and prepared a light lunch for Ms. Helen and her. She slid a glance toward her great-aunt, who was enjoying a second mug of chai tea. Her relative seemed in good spirits after the sheriff's report on his department's morning activities. In Los Angeles, Benita was bombarded with news bulletins about drive-by shootings, home invasions, and murders. In contrast, this morning, the Trinity Falls Sheriff Department had freed a toddler whose head had been stuck in a staircase banister. Deputies had investigated a prank at Heritage High School involving students who'd nailed shut the teachers' break room. Alonzo suspected the perpetrators to be the same ones who'd nailed shut the high school's exterior doors last Halloween. Benita was reassured that the national crime wave hadn't spread to Trinity Falls.

“Never a dull moment in Trinity Falls, is there?” Benita was only half joking.

She lowered the burner under the pot of homemade chicken soup she'd prepared for dinner last night. The air swelled with the scents of seasonings and fresh vegetables. Benita pulled her homemade wheat bread from the refrigerator to make sandwiches as she waited for the soup to boil. She was rarely inspired to cook like this in L.A. Why was that?

“That's what I keep telling you.” Ms. Helen crossed to the dishwasher to add her mug to the machine. “Do you need help preparing lunch?”

“No, I've got it.”

“That's what I love about your visits.” Ms. Helen returned to her seat at the kitchen table. “As brief as they are, I never have to do anything while you're here. You wait on me hand and foot.”

“Actually, Aunt Helen, that's one of the things I wanted to speak with you about. I'm concerned about your living alone.”

“Why? Because of the recent crime spree? Now you know how I feel about your living in Los Angeles.”

Benita's living in Los Angeles was a different matter from her great-aunt living on her own
anywhere
. But Ms. Helen wouldn't take kindly to that sentiment. “I realize Trinity Falls is comparatively safe.”

Ms. Helen snorted. “You mean, compared to anyplace else you've ever lived?”

Benita ignored her relative's commentary. She pulled from the refrigerator sliced chicken breast, honeyed ham, and cheddar cheese. “The fact is, Aunt Helen, I'm concerned that you're getting older. You need help getting around and taking care of things.”

“According to whom?”

Benita looked around at her great-aunt. Ms. Helen seemed more curious than angry. Benita quickly constructed the sandwiches, then turned off the stove. “No one's said anything, at least not to me. This is a concern
I've
had for a while.”

“Benita, I'm a scientist. If you want to convince me of your hypothesis, you're going to have to offer something more than your feelings.”

Had the temperature in the kitchen dropped about twenty degrees? Benita filled two bowls with the chicken soup. She carried one of the bowls and a sandwich to Ms. Helen, then returned for her own dishes.

“Aunt Helen, how old are you?” Benita sank onto a chair at the kitchen table.

“I'm old enough to know when someone doesn't have the facts to support their premise.” Ms. Helen gestured toward Benita with her soup spoon. “You claim I'm too old to live on my own, but you don't know my age.”

“Aunt Helen, I—”

“What examples can you offer to validate your concern?”

Benita hadn't thought this through. She spread her napkin on her lap, trying to buy time. It didn't help. “I can't think of any.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” Ms. Helen spooned up some soup. “You say I look as though I need help. Well, science has proven that looks can be deceiving.” The retired university chemistry professor proceeded to eat her lunch in stony silence. Her displeasure was obvious in the set of her shoulders.

Benita swallowed a sigh of despair. Vaughn had ended their relationship. Ms. Helen was irritated with her. How many other people in her hometown would she alienate before returning to L.A. in a month's time?

“I don't know how I'm going to do it.” Doreen's fingers trembled with the need to rip out her hair Tuesday morning. All of it. By the roots.

Megan McCloud, her employer, dear friend, and her son's girlfriend—soon-to-be-fiancée?—was lending a sympathetic ear as Doreen voiced her anxieties. It was coming up on seven in the morning. Megan was keeping Doreen company in Books & Bakery's kitchen before the store opened at eight
A.M
. It was a habit they'd developed when Doreen had first started working for Megan almost three years ago. The bookstore owner wore a warm gold pencil-thin skirt with a hem that ended just above her knees. Her maple brown scoop-neck blouse complimented her cinnamon skin.

The kitchen was a bakery chef's dream—or at least it was Doreen's dream. The modest white and silver room was bright and lined with modern industrial equipment. All of the appliances were clean and well cared for, and everything was positioned within her reach.

“You don't have to plan your wedding all by yourself, Doreen.” Megan spoke from her usual perch on one of the two honey wood chairs nestled into the corner of the kitchen.

“I'm just trying to wrap my mind around it.” Doreen measured flour, salt, and cinnamon into a mixing bowl. “It's been years since I've attended a wedding.”

“Me, too.” Megan smoothed back her shoulder-length dark brown hair. “My last single friend got married a couple of years ago.”

Doreen gave Megan a brief look before returning her attention to her Trinity Falls Fudge Walnut Brownie mixture.
Turn off the Mommy Radar
. Time enough to worry about Megan and her son, Ean's, relationship when she and her fiancé, Sheriff Alonzo Lopez, returned from their honeymoon. Urgh, the honeymoon. Another thing to add to the task list. And they would have one or Alonzo would rue the day, especially after everything he was putting her through to plan their wedding on his impossible time frame.

“Alonzo did agree to wait until June.” Doreen measured cocoa, nutmeg, and butter into the electric mixer. “He'd originally wanted a May wedding.”

“That's an additional four weeks.” Megan seemed satisfied.

Doreen wasn't. “I don't understand why he couldn't wait until
next
June.” She let the blender run before continuing. “He proposed in January. Six months isn't enough time to enjoy the engagement much less plan a wedding.”