Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (31 page)

“Well, build one,” a voice chimed in.

“It's not that simple. It is expensive and Tim, Mr. Dollar, says that it will never pay for itself as a business venture. It's going to take tax dollars to do it."

A crescendo of groans arose from those present, but the banker, Tom Anthony, turned the signs of disapproval into applause. “Dr. Honneycutt,” he said. “I will be glad to work with you on this project. There may be some county and federal tax dollars already available to us, and we may be able to combine another service, like convalescence care, to get it on a break-even basis."

“While you're at it,” Joe Sizemore said, “See if you can find us a good dentist. Charlotte's a long way to drive when you have a tooth ache."

“Mr. Stone, may I say something?” asked Tim.

Stone turned to Tim, a little embarrassed. “Here, Tim. This here's your meetin'.” He moved towards the steps.

“No,” Tim replied. “You're doing a great job."

“You're a college man,” Stone grinned as he carefully descended the steps. “Shucks. I'm just an ol’ country boy."

Laughter again erupted. Everyone but Tim and Sandra knew that Amos Stone was a very proud honor graduate of North Carolina State University.

Standing once more behind the lectern, Tim said, “My biggest concern is the area's economy. I know some of you still grow tobacco, but we all know that market is fading fast. We need to find other ways to make a living."

“You have any suggestions?” Tim did not see who asked the question.

“Not really,” he replied, “but I do have some thoughts. As close as Charlotte is to us, we should think of those people as potential customers. I have learned that a considerable amount of current business at the Lumberyard, Hardware Store and Discount House comes from Charlotte customers. I have been thinking of turning some of my land into a housing development for folks who work in Charlotte but prefer a rural setting for their homes."

Negative murmurs erupted again. A man Tim did not know spoke next. “I've thought of doing that too. Trouble is that once you've done it, it isn't your land anymore. I'd rather farm my land if I could find a crop I could make some money on."

“If I had all your land, know what I'd so?” asked another man Tim did not know. “I'd build a golf course.” Responding to the resulting laughter the man continued, “I know you clowns don't play golf, but Charlotte is full of golfers."

“Why don't we see if we can get the county bookmobile to make a weekly stop in Dot?” asked one lady who immediately agreed to look into it when asked.

Billy Frank shouted, “I think what we need here is a good pool hall and beer joint."

Possibly trying to save the family honor, Dottie Frank ended the laughter and crude comments by saying, “There's something I've thought frequently about, but I don't own any farmland."

“Go on, Mrs. Frank,” Tim urged.

“Well, you all know that the tomatoes we get out of California, Mexico and even Florida during the fall, winter and spring don't have much taste. I'll bet fancy restaurants in Charlotte would pay a pretty penny for homegrown vegetables during the off season."

“That sounds like a great idea,” Tim responded.

“You gonna give us the money to build them expensive greenhouses Tim?” Again, Tim could not locate the speaker.

“No,” he replied. “I know that Pete Harlow made some personal loans, but I am not going to do that. We have a bank in Dot that will make loans. If need be, I will cosign a note with you for worthwhile projects."

Even as he was speaking, Tim saw Amos Stone again standing up. Tim's pulse rate immediately increased.

“Down at State, they spend a lot of time and money developing new farm products and other business ideas. Maybe we ought to check them out."

“Any volunteers?” Tim asked.

“If Oscar Norman and Ruth Jernigan will help, I'll take that one,” said Amos Stone to an astonished Tim Dollar.

“Mr. Dollar,” called out a soprano voice.

Tim searched for the speaker and found her standing at the right rear of the room.

“Don't you own the old warehouse across from the church?"

“I don't know. Do I?"

Amid the laughter, Tim acknowledged that he was the owner.

“Is it being used for anything?"

“I really don't know. That's one thing I haven't taken the time to check on yet. I believe Silas Coan may have told me some of Uncle Pete's things are stored there. Do you have a use for it in mind?"

“Well, I've been thinking. Everybody loves a flea market, and consignment shops are all the rage now. If we advertise pretty good in Charlotte, that kind of business might do okay. At least it would get Charlotte people into Dot."

“I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know your name."

“I'm Brenda Atwood. I'm one of the young ‘uns who didn't leave home"

“Brenda, may I put you down to look into this possibility?"

“Yes sir. I was thinking too, lots of folks around here make things—you know—crafts. This would give them a chance to earn a little extra money."

The crowd had their thinking caps on now, and ideas were flying like bursting popcorn kernels in a pan of hot butter.

“I'd like to see us get a good barber in town, and Tim, it looks to me like you could use one too."

Amid the laughter, a female voice rang out. “Don't leave us ladies out. If you're going to get a barber shop, we need a beauty parlor too."

The meeting continued until midnight. While some people slipped out, most remained to the end. Without much order or dignity, the end result was that individuals or small groups agreed to further investigate most of the items on Tim's original list plus at least a dozen new possibilities identified in the long meeting.

At the beginning, Amos Stone almost destroyed the effort but at the end, it was Amos Stone who added the final important touch. He joked that the town meeting was Tim's idea, but Tim had escaped without an assignment. Stone observed that the project needed a head honcho and declared that Tim should fill that role. As it began, the meeting ended with a chorus of “Amens". Without anything so formal as a vote the people bundled up and moved to the parking lot to scrape ice from their windshields.

“That was rough,” Tim commented to Sandra during the drive home.

“Yep, Dude. But we're on our way,” she replied, slipping her hand to the inside of his right thigh.

As the freezing rain began to beat against his hospital window, Matt Dilson reread the letter he had laboriously written to his wife over a two-day period.

Dear Loretta,

Masterson has been trying to look after me. They appointed him to fill the remainder of my term of office. He brought to me the note you left behind. I don't blame you. I have really made a terrible mess of things.

I can't explain Cathy to you. I don't understand it myself. Please believe me when I say I love you. It's not that Cathy replaced you in my heart and life. She made a separate place for herself. I was, and still am, an old fool, for I mourn her death, even though she totally destroyed me with her false sexual harassment charges.

To say that I am sorry is a huge understatement. I don't expect you to forgive me. I doubt that I will ever forgive myself.

You may not know that I was involved in an automobile accident. I got banged up pretty badly. I am writing from my hospital room at Charlotte Memorial. They say I will be here for several more weeks, and that I will probably never walk again.

If you think I wrote the above to play on your sympathy, you're right. I miss you and I need you so much.

Love,

He signed the letter and sealed it in the envelope he had already addressed.

While Dot slept, the moisture-driving low pressure moving northeastward triumphed over the high pressure that had eased into the state from the north. Quite rapidly the cold air was pushed back into Virginia. The freezing rain turned to rain. Black ice turned to slush and then disappeared. Mary Beth Jackson had to pull into the Dot Super Save parking lot and remove her tire chains before completing the delivery of the Sunday
Charlotte Observer
.

As planned, Tim went to church leaving Sandra behind to prepare dinner for Mack McGee. During the singing of the invitation hymn, Mack and Tim slipped out of the building. Tom Anthony followed.

“Tim,” Tom said when he was sure he could not be heard from inside the building. “I had a hard time getting to sleep last night. I got excited during the town meeting. Anyway, I have an idea I want to pass on."

“I was pretty excited myself,” Tim agreed.

“Have you given any thought to what you are going to do with the old hotel building?"

“Not really. I know it is an eyesore."

“I have never been inside it myself. Pete boarded it up before I came to Dot six years ago. Anyway, if the building is structurally sound, I think I know how you can do the town a favor and make a buck at the same time."

“I'm listening."

“It's a five story building. I'll bet we could put Dr. Honneycutt's clinic and maybe a beauty salon and barbershop on the ground floor. The second floor could be used for offices and the top floors could be converted into efficiency apartments."

“That's wonderful,” Tim said without enthusiasm, “But who's going to rent these offices and apartments?"

“If we get a barber, beautician, dentist and a couple of nurses to move to Dot, they're going to need a place to live. Your new business manager could use an office and Carl Elliott is working out of the back of his truck. Don't you think he might like to live in Dot? If we get things turned around, we'll get more businesses without much recruiting. For instance, it won't be long before some sharp insurance salesman sets up an office here, and when that happens can a used car dealer be far behind?"

“You may be on to something, Tom. Thanks."

“Think about it,” Tom said as he headed back to the church and the important vote.

“There's plenty more of everything, Mack. Help yourself,” Sandra urged.

“No more for me, thanks,” Mack replied rubbing his stomach. “That reminds me of a joke I haven't thought about in years. It seems this preacher was having Sunday dinner in the home of one of the church members. The couple's little boy ate four servings of pinto beans and asked for another. The preacher said, ‘Son, if you eat any more beans you're going to pop.’ ‘Well,’ said the boy, ‘pass the beans and get out of the way.’”

Along with Tim, Sandra laughed politely before moving the conversation to a more serious vein. “Mack,” Sandra said when she thought the time was right, “Tim and I aren't married."

“Say what?” responded the surprised minister.

“It's a long story, Mack,” Tim chimed in. “I ran into Sandy on my way to Dot and gave her a ride. For reasons of her own, she didn't want to tell me her real last name, so she adopted mine."

“And people just naturally assumed you were married,” Mack responded.

“Exactly,” Sandra said. “Funny thing happened. We fell in love with each other. We want to get married, but we don't want our neighbors to know we haven't been married all along."

“That shouldn't be a problem. You can just slip off to another community and get the knot tied. If you like, I can arrange a ceremony for you in the chapel at Baptist Hospital. That's where Mary Lou and I are being married."

“What?” exclaimed Tim and Sandra simultaneously.

“My timing isn't very good, is it? Well, I started. I may as well finish. Mary Lou and I fell in love while she was a resident at the hospital. I was trying to get over a divorce and, well, she was dealing with her own problems with the rigors of residency. We drifted apart. Last night, before the meeting, she asked me to marry her and I accepted."

“That's wonderful,” gushed Sandra.

Tim jumped up and pumped Mack's hand.

“We could make it a double ceremony,” Mack suggested. “Of course, we would have to discuss it with Mary Lou."

“I don't think either Mary Lou or I would want that, Mack. I want the ceremony to be right here—down beside the small pond. I want it to be on Christmas Eve night with snow falling and all our neighbors present."

“But I thought you said..."

“What we are asking,” interrupted Tim with a guilty look on his face, “is for you to be a part of a lie. We want you to perform the ceremony, but we want everybody to think it is a renewal of our vows, not an actual wedding."

Mack studied the ceiling.

“Not a very Christian thing for us to ask you to do, is it?” Sandra commented.

Resting his eyes at last on Tim, Mack asked, “Does anyone already know you are not presently married?"

“Only Dr. Honneycutt,” Tim replied.

“She knows?” Sandra's voice betrayed her surprise.

“Yes,” Tim confirmed. “I'll explain later."

“You are going to have to tell one more person,” Mack continued. “A North Carolina marriage certificate requires two witnesses in addition to the minister's."

“Are you saying you'll go along with us on this?” Sandra asked as she began refilling ice tea classes.

“Yes, and it won't be a lie. You
will
be renewing your vows."

Mack laughed in response to the blank expression on the faces of both Sandra and Tim. “You ready for a second sermon, Tim?"

“This I want to hear,” Tim replied.

“Me too,” Sandra added as she sat back down at the end of the formal dining table. “I don't think I'll nod off during this one."

“Tim, Sandy, at what point in time do a man and woman become husband and wife?"

“When the minister says, ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.'” Tim guessed.

“I would be willing to wager you're wrong one hundred per cent of the time. A marriage becomes legal in this state when the marriage certificate is properly signed, but that's not the point in time when the marriage really takes place either."

The Dollars remained silent.

“For some folks I believe the real marriage doesn't take place until weeks, months, even years after the ceremony. For most, it is my guess it happens long before the ceremony. For some it never happens at all."