Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter (41 page)

“Friday it is. To what address would you like me to send the check? Or like I said, I can wire the money into your account.”

“I don’t have an account yet, so just FedEx it to me at my friend Virginia’s house. I’ll write it down for you.” In a flash, he whipped out one of his business cards and shoved it in front of me. I wrote down the address on the back and slid it across the table.

Ed moved over to the chair next to me and flipped through the papers, pointing to the lines that required my signature. As soon as I had signed my name on the last line, he rose from the table. “Well, I guess I’d better be getting along. I’d stay around to help but it looks like you’re all set.”

I walked him to the door and as he reached out his hand I gave him a hug instead. He tensed up a bit, but I chalked it up to his uptight demeanor. “Thanks for everything, Ed.”

“You’rrre welcome. It’s been great. Don’t be a stranger,” he said, and hurried on out the door.

Roberta’s always right when it comes to the weather forecast. When my alarm went off at 6:00
A.M.
on Tuesday morning, I peeked out the window at a snowy sky. The girls and I had slept in the largest bedroom of the inn, since the movers had already left with our own beds. Getting Great-grandmother’s bed back out of my room was a sight to see. Dismantling it was something else. With only an inch between the ceiling and the canopy, removing it took the movers over an hour.

It was normally hard for me to get up that early, but knowing what lay ahead, and since the butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t quit, I jumped out of bed. After brushing my teeth, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, not bothering with a bath. I huddled in front of the space heater in the bathroom a few extra minutes, for the very last time.

I kissed the girls awake and when we made it downstairs into the fireplace room, Jeb, Roberta, and Pierre were waiting for us. “Surprise,” they all yelled. Those sweet people had prepared a beautiful going-away breakfast for us. Pancakes with warm Vermont maple syrup, crispy bacon, fresh-squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs, and ice-cold milk. The table in the bay window was set and a big, crackling fire warmed the room.

“Y’all are so sweet, thanks, you guys.” I unfolded my napkin and placed it on my lap. “Hey, did you hear me? I said ‘you guys.’ ”

“But you still said ‘y’all,’ ” Jeb pointed out.

“We’re rubbing off on you,” Roberta seemed thrilled to say.

“Y’all sit down with us.” I patted the table and motioned for them to come over.

“Where’s
your
breakfast, Pierre?” Isabella wanted to know. Pierre just smiled.

“SHE . . . WANTS . . . TO . . . KNOW . . . IF . . . YOU’RE . . . GONNA . . . EAT BREAKFAST.” I pointed to him with one hand and made an eating motion with the other.

“Ahhhh.” His face lit up when he understood my hand signals. “No, no, Isabella.”

“Can y’all come with us?” Sarah asked. When all three told her no, she seemed disappointed. “You can visit us, can’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll be down there,” Jeb told her. “I’ve gut places to go and people to see.”

“How ’bout you, Roberta?” Sarah said, with her sweet little angelic voice. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I don’t know about that, missy. I’m not much on traveling. We’ll have to see.” Roberta leaned in toward her and put her hand up to the side of her mouth. “But I never say never.”

“That’s right, Roberta, never say never. We’ll get you down south. I’m not letting you out of our lives that easy.” When I eyed Roberta’s little half smile, it broke my heart.

The pancakes were delicious, always cooked with drawn butter at my inn and somewhat crispy on the edges. While the three of us ate our breakfast, Jeb rambled on and on about the different cities and attractions around the country that he planned to someday visit.

I watched Sarah eyeing him and every time he paused, she’d start to speak but couldn’t quite get a word in edgewise. Finally, she seized an extra-long lull in Jeb’s babble. “Mommy says I’m going to a new school with just girls in my class. And that makes me so happy.”

“Just girls, huh?” Roberta’s eyes lit up and she bobbed her head in approval. “No boy cooties to bother you?”

Sarah scrunched up her nose. “That’s right.”

Isabella laughed out loud and then pointed to a little white stuffed kitty with blue eyes sitting on the table in front of her plate. “Mommy, who’s that for?”

Sweet Pierre smiled the biggest smile I’d ever seen come across his face. He had gone out and bought us each a little going-away present.

“I think it’s for you,” I said to Issie. “From Pierre.”

Isabella picked it up and hugged the kitty to her chest. “Thank you, Pierre.”

At Sarah’s place was another stuffed animal—a white dog about the size of Gracie. And at my place, a small snow globe with a moose inside. I picked it up and shook it. Isabella wanted to hold it, too.

“Careful, Issie, it’s breakable,” I said. “Hold it gently.
Merci
, Pierre.”

“Es your moose,” Pierre said. “No more looking.”

I was
really
looking for Peter. In fact, I couldn’t stand it another second. “Have y’all seen Peter by any chance?”

They all looked at one another as if to inquire but I knew they had to be wondering the same thing.

“I was hoping he might stop in . . . to say good-bye.” I might as well have shined a flashlight into my heart.

“He’s probably restin’ before he starts his new job at the Sugartree,” Roberta said. “I’m sure he’ll call you once you get to Memphis.”

“Maybe he drove over to New Jersey to see family. He’s got a week off before he starts,” Jeb said, and gave me an overemphasized wink.

“You’re right. I’m sure he’ll call.” I feigned a smile.

Jeb glanced at his watch. “It’s almost seven, you better get on the road if you want to stay ahead of the nor’easter. Take a look outside, it’s gettin’ goin’ out there.”

Sure enough, snow was beginning to fall. In a few hours my friends would become shut-ins. “Let’s get our coats on, girls. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, hurry, hurry.”

Everyone bundled up and we all walked out together. Halfway to my
car, I turned back around and studied the back side of my inn, the beautiful garden—now a winter wonderland—and the front door of the superb owners’ quarters. Pierre’s little cottage with the turquoise shutters and the big barn that still housed all the extra furniture and stuff from the junk room. Instead of melancholy, an unexplained peace suddenly washed over me. I glanced up at the snow, opened my mouth, and stuck out my tongue. A big fat snowflake landed right in the center and at that moment I felt an overwhelming sense of triumph and contentment.
What an incredible adventure
, I thought. How many Southerners in this world can actually say that they moved 1,473 miles away from home, due north to
Vermont
to operate an inn? And
survived
. I spent countless days and nights dying to get home but it wasn’t the right time. Now I was going home a different woman—a better woman—a mother my girls would admire and respect.

I looked at my Vermont friends standing underneath the cascading snow. Roberta with her wild red hair sticking out of her knit hat, wearing her plaid skirt and her used Sorels. Jeb, with his lumberjack hat and his stomach poking so far out that his coat couldn’t cover his middle. And Pierre with his dyed jet-black hair and no hat. I felt like the wealthiest woman in America for having earned their friendships.

One by one, and clutching their new stuffed animals, Sarah and Isabella hugged each of them good-bye. I reached out to hug Jeb, who was standing closest to me, and as soon as my cheek brushed his bushy beard I started to cry. “I never thought I’d say this, but I sure am gonna miss you twisting your mustache, Jeb. The next time I see you, I hope Jeb’s Computer World has gotten so big that you’ve had to relocate to the shopping center.” I reached up and kissed him on the forehead. His eyes moistened and I watched a tear roll down his cheek and disappear into his handlebar.

Pierre stood right next to Jeb and by the time I reached out for him, he was already crying. “
Au revoir,
Leelee,” he said, and sniffed. “Vermont never same without you.”

“We love you, Pierre.” I put my hand over my heart and then touched his. Without a doubt, Pierre Lebel was one of the kindest men I had ever known.

“Oh, Roberta, I’m gonna miss you most of all.” I whispered in her ear so
no one else would feel bad. “You’ve been the best friend any Southern girl could hope for. What would I have done without you?”

“Aw, you’d have made it just fine. Remember what I told you. You’re a survivor. You can start another Peach Blossom Inn down south if you want to. Go back to Tennessee and knock ’em dead, missy.”

“I’m not so sure about another inn.”

“Never say never.”

“Okay, I’ll keep my options open.” I gave her one last long hug. “Take care of yourself. And write to me. Promise?”

“Of course I will. I’ll catch you up on what all you’re missin’.”

“Look at all of us, crying like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll be back for a visit. And y’all can come to Tennessee.”

“Be careful,” Jeb said, “especially in that car. You need to stay ahead of the storm.”

“I will. Hey, I’m part Yankee now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Caution guided our steps as the girls and I fought the brawling wind over to our car, amid snow swirling frantically all around us. Still, I detected the faint harmony of Jeb’s familiar whistle serenading us on our journey home. Although it had been years since I’d heard it, maybe even elementary school, I recognized the tune right away. “I wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten, look away . . . away down south in Dixie.”

My little BMW was packed to the brim with only little slivers of space remaining for us to sit. I strapped the girls in and looked back at my friends. Before sliding down into my seat, I blew them a kiss from the door. I watched them slip away through my rearview mirror as I pulled down the street for the very last time.

Chapter Twenty-four

“Bye-bye Peach Blossom Inn, bye-bye Jeb’s Computer World, bye-bye little store, bye-bye river, bye-bye our school.” Everything we drove past, the girls would wave and tell it good-bye.

“Bye-bye grocery store, bye-bye pizza place, bye-bye George Clark,” I said, as we pulled into Fairhope.
Oh, what the heck, I’ll just make his day with one last tank of gas. He’ll see my car all loaded up and by noon, the whole town will know that the “Southern gal” has moved away
.

The line for gas was only two cars deep and while I was waiting all I thought about was Peter. What would have prevented him from saying good-bye? I thought we were friends. Not just casual friends but dear friends. We hung out together six nights and six days a week for eight months.

“Hello. How are you?” George said, when I pulled up to the pump.

“I’m fine, thanks. Will you fill’er up, please?”

“Why sure.” After he placed the pump in my gas tank, I saw him glance through the car windows. He even leaned in to get a better view. “Looks like you’re goin’ on a trip. Where to?”

“Tennessee.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Forever.”

George’s eyes about popped out of his skull.

“We’re going home, George. I thought I’d stop in to say good-bye.”

“You’ve made my day.”

“That was my intention.” I grinned at him and almost laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it.

“So, did you sell the old inn?” he asked.

“I sure did.”

“Who’s takin’ over the place?”

“Actually, I’ve not met the new owners. We had to delay the closing a couple of days. But I’m leaving anyway. The girls and I are anxious to get home to the
warm weather
.”

My comment went right over his head. “What about Roberta and Jeb and Frenchie? Will they keep their jobs?”

“Oh yeah, their jobs are safe and secure.”

“And how about your new chef? What’s he goin’ to do now?” His face almost glowed when he asked that question. Fortunately, the gas line popped and George had to put it back on the pump. The man was aching for more dirt but I was not about to give it to him. “That’ll be thirty-one dollars, Mrs. Satterfield,” he finally said, after I ignored his question.

I handed George the exact change. “I don’t want to waste a second more of your time, Mr. Clark. Something tells me you’ve got your work cut out for you today.”

“Well, nice knowing you, and be careful there, Mrs. Satterfield. That car of yours ain’t the best in this kind of weather. A nor’easter’s headed this way.”

“Nor’easter, pooh. I’m not afraid of a little ole nor’easter. I can drive in the snow as well as anyone else can now. Good-bye, George and hey,
stay warm
!” I rolled up the window and giggled to myself.
There’s a choice, you Eskimos. You don’t have to freeze your fannies off.

I started my engine before I noticed someone heading in my direction. I pulled away from the pump and the person kept on walking—straight up in front of my car. He stood in my way so I couldn’t drive another inch. His
hands were shoved in his pockets and the collar on the red jacket he wore was turned up to protect his neck. A navy blue skullcap was pulled down over his head, covering his ears and all of his hair. Still, I knew the face.

I rammed the gearshift into park, right in the middle of George Clark’s gas station parking lot, and flew out of the car. We stood there in front of the left headlight, two feet apart, lost somewhere between embarrassment and grief, neither of us confident enough to expose our hearts. We spoke over each other rushing to get the words out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, at the same time I was saying, “Memphis is home.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said.

“I thought you were mad at me.” Again our words fell on top of each other’s.

“I could never be mad at you, Leelee. For Christ’s sake, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever known. When I walked out the door that night, I regretted it—immediately—but I couldn’t make myself turn back around.”