Hope Springs - 05 - Wedding Cake

C
harlotte speaking.” Charlotte Stewart was answering the phone at the women’s shelter where she worked as the executive director because Maria, the office volunteer, had gone into town to buy some stamps.

“So, how did it go?”

Charlotte smiled at the voice on the other end of the telephone. “Beatrice Newgarden Witherspoon, please tell me that you have not invested any of your money in starting a matchmaking service because you are really, really unqualified to handle these things.” Charlotte waited for the response. She always loved talking to her former parishioner and old friend.

“It was the hairpiece that threw you off, wasn’t it? I tried to tell him that in today’s time, bald is in.”

Beatrice had discovered that her husband’s boss, the owner of the funeral home in Hope Springs, North Carolina, had a nephew who was going to a conference in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She had met
Rollin Fair a couple of times, and she knew he had gotten divorced and had been single for a few months. She just thought it was part of her Christian duty to help love along. Since Charlotte, her former pastor, was heading toward forty and was still single, and was conveniently located in Gallup, New Mexico, just a couple of hours away from the winter gathering of the National Funeral Directors Conference, it seemed inspired.

Rollin wasn’t really a great catch, but Bea knew that he was gainfully employed, had his own house, and, best of all, was located back in North Carolina. Besides, Dick, her husband, had told her that Rollin was a becoming a fine funeral director and a good businessman, in line to take over the family business. He had an excellent retirement package and a wonderful time-share rental in south Florida. Beatrice considered these to be honorable attributes and began making calls to Charlotte and to Rollin as soon as she heard that the divorce was final and that he was going to the conference out west. Besides, she was not ashamed of the fact that she was acting a little selfishly since she thought that if she could find her former pastor a love interest back in North Carolina, maybe Charlotte might come back home. Charlotte had finally agreed to go out with Rollin just to get Beatrice to leave her alone. The one blind date had been a catastrophe.

“No, I’m sorry to say that the hairpiece was not the worst part of the evening.”

“Oh dear.” Beatrice sighed. “He talked about his ex-wife, didn’t he?” Dick had also mentioned that the divorce had been a result of his wife having an affair and that Rollin was having a difficult time of it.

“For two hours straight. Beatrice, the man is a mess. Why on earth did you think we would enjoy each other’s company?”

“It just seemed ordained,” she answered.

“Ordained?” Charlotte asked. “Trust me, this was not ordained. Unless you think he needed a counselor, which, I would add, he certainly does.”

“Well, maybe when he gets over his grief, you’ll reconsider.” Beatrice remained hopeful.

“I somehow think that’s not happening anytime soon. In fact, if I wait around for him to get back to normal, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be coming to him for his professional services, meaning one of us will be on our deathbed.”

Beatrice laughed. “It was that bad, huh?”

“It was terrible.” Charlotte paused.

“Well, I’ll send you the money for the gas it took for you to drive to Albuquerque. And I’ll just keep looking for you.”

“No!” Charlotte quickly replied. “Please, don’t set me up with anybody else.”

“But dear, I feel that it’s my duty as your friend to help you find true love. I’ve already signed you up for one of those Internet dating services for people in the South. In fact, that was another reason I was calling. I need a few details.” Beatrice reached over and pulled out a file she had near the phone. She cleared her throat. “Do you have any prior convictions or have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?”

“Beatrice!” Charlotte yelled the name so loudly that one of the women walking by her office stopped and peeked in to make sure the executive director was okay. Charlotte smiled at the client and nodded, showing that she was just fine. “Beatrice, take my name off of that service. The last thing I need is to have some crazy man showing up at the shelter!”

“Oh, you’re right. I forgot about where you are now.” Beatrice
blew out a breath. “Hey, how about any of those contacts? Do any of your women know anybody that could be a potential husband for you?”

Charlotte laughed. “Bea, these are survivors of domestic abuse. I don’t really think I want them hooking me up, if you know what I mean.”

“Right,” Beatrice agreed.

“Besides,” Charlotte noted, “I have met someone.”

“Who? Where?” Beatrice sounded excited.

Charlotte let out a heavy sigh. She had not intended to say anything to anybody, and particularly not to Beatrice. Even though she was a couple thousand miles away, Beatrice had a way of meddling that went beyond even great distances. “He’s a police officer. He’s from here,” she added.

“A policeman?” Beatrice asked. “You’re not paying off a parking ticket with sex, are you?”

“Bea, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, Bea, I am not paying him off with sex.” Charlotte shook her head.

“Okay,” Beatrice responded, and then waited. “Then he’s not one of those dirty cops who takes money from strip club owners to look the other way when they’re running a prostitution ring, is he?”

“What? No.” Charlotte already regretted telling Beatrice the news. “Are you still getting HBO and not paying for it?”

“I’m still considering my entertainment options,” Beatrice replied. “And I have seen plenty of programs about bad cops.”

“He’s not a bad cop,” Charlotte responded. “He’s a good guy.” She thought about him, how he had smiled at her as they stood at her
doorstep the night before when they went out on their second date. She remembered how kind he had been, how sweet. She blushed re-calling the innocent kiss he had planted on her cheek.

“You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?” Beatrice asked, aware of the sudden pause in the conversation.

Charlotte sat up in her chair, looking like she had just gotten caught by the high school principal for making out in the hallway. “I’m sorry, did you ask a question, Bea?”

“Are you going to tell me about him?”

Charlotte thought for a minute. “There’s not a lot to tell right now. We’ve only been out twice. His name is Donovan and he is Navajo.”

“Navajo? Like an Indian, Navajo?”

“Yes, like an Indian Navajo,” Charlotte answered.

“An Indian named Donovan?”

“Yes, Beatrice, an Indian named Donovan.”

“Hmmmmm,” Beatrice responded.

“So, what else is going on in Hope Springs?” Charlotte asked, changing the subject.

Beatrice sighed. She knew Charlotte was through talking about her new boyfriend. She was hoping for more information, but she would let Charlotte have her way now and would ask more questions later. She decided to go along with the new subject. “Louise heard from George.”

“Who’s George?” Charlotte asked, glad to have moved on.

“You know, the husband of Roxie, that woman she loved from her teenage years, the one she had move in with her when she got Alzheimer’s.”

Charlotte knew the name Roxie very well. She remembered how Louise Fisher, another woman from Hope Springs, had confessed her
love for her oldest friend and how she wanted nothing more than to care for her, love her, be with her while she was dying. Roxie’s family allowed Louise to take her into her home because none of them, especially her husband, who was having an affair at the time, wanted the responsibility of caring for the dying woman.

“Why on earth did he contact Louise?” Charlotte asked. She re-called that George had never been very fond of Roxie’s best friend. Even Louise had said that he had always been suspicious of the friendship between his wife and the single woman from North Carolina. They had been civil with each other only because of Roxie, the woman they both loved. She had asked them to try and get along, so they had. When Roxie developed dementia, Louise and George had fought long and hard about her care.

“I’m not sure,” Beatrice answered. “Lou only said that he was planning a trip south and that he wanted to stop by and see her.”

Charlotte knew that Roxie’s family was from the Baltimore area. She remembered being with Louise after the funeral and how the friends from Hope Springs, calling themselves the cookbook committee because of their efforts to produce a church cookbook, drove together to Baltimore at Christmas to be with Louise at the time of Roxie’s death.

“Well, that’s weird,” Charlotte noted. “How long has it been since that funeral?”

“It seems forever,” Beatrice replied. “It seems a lot longer than Margaret’s.”

There was a pause in the conversation as both women thought of their very dear friend Margaret Peele. It had been only a few months since Margaret’s death, and all the women on the cookbook committee, all the friends, still grieved deeply over their common loss.

“You remember how Margaret got us to Baltimore?” Beatrice made a sort of clucking noise. “She was worried to death about Louise, called us to come up there and help.”