Breakfast at the Honey Creek Café Page 4

  His logical mind colored in the known facts with guesses. Her black SUV, parked in the mayor’s spot on the back parking lot, was clean . . . she was organized, maybe even a neat freak. Her office was packed with file boxes . . . she was searching for answers. The trash under her desk was full of empty drink cans and what looked like every snack from the machine he’d seen in the hallway . . . she hadn’t had time to go out for food and she was running on caffeine and sugar.

  He’d already figured out her type. Organized, driven, in charge. She would be one of those people who had to be in control. That’s probably why she wanted to show him around.

  She was the kind of woman who planned everything in her life and something wasn’t going right tonight. He guessed whatever crisis she faced had nothing to do with him. Welcoming a traveling preacher couldn’t have been high on her list.

  Maybe Sam could piece together the mayor’s personality, but he was baffled by his own, especially the call to preach. He’d been twenty-three when he graduated from seminary. With no relatives to attend, he’d skipped all the ceremonies and left with three friends for a summer in Europe. One of the guys was from Italy and another’s family lived in England. They had the loan of a flat in London and an apartment just outside of Rome. So if their money ran out they had places to stay free.

  They left laughing, hungry for an adventure before they all had to step into their serious lives.

  Sam returned that summer with one friend, James, beside him. Both had wounds healing that they barely noticed. Their English and Italian classmates had been buried while Sam and James had still been in the hospital. The underground bombing in London had shattered Sam’s faith and strengthened James’s.

  Within hours of landing back in Texas, Sam and his one remaining friend joined the army. Sam no longer felt the calling to preach. He wanted to fight evil. James became a chaplain, and Sam learned to fly.

  When he was flying, the world couldn’t touch him, and later, when he was fighting fires, there was no time to think of anything else. Maybe this break he was now taking would do the same thing.

  When Sam had arrived in Honey Creek that morning, he’d driven out to his church just to take a look. Well, his church for as long as this part-time job lasted.

  Could he play this part? He did have a divinity degree even if he’d never preached a single sermon from the pulpit. By the time his fellow graduates were being assigned churches, he was in boot camp. He’d seen evil that summer and had made the choice to fight rather than reform criminals.

  He heard what sounded like a mouse squeak and turned away from the window.

  The outline of the mayor in a brown suit that looked two sizes too big for her stood before him backlit in the dull yellow of the hallway light. Her face was in shadow. He realized she was medium everything. Not tall or short. Not fat or thin. Even her hair, that just reached her shoulders, was medium length, medium brown. If she robbed a bank, nothing about her would stand out.

  Until she turned toward him, clicked on the desk lamp, and he saw her eyes. Forest green. The color of priceless jade.

  “May I help you?” she asked as she took a step backward.

  “I’m Samuel Cassidy. I believe I was supposed to meet you here.”

  She offered her hand as she straightened. “I’m Mayor Mackenzie. Welcome to Honey Creek.”

  “Thank you.” He had the feeling she was playing as much of a role as he was tonight.

  “We should be going. Your new staff didn’t have time to plan your reception. I’m sure they will have it Sunday. Tonight they just want to meet you, show you around a bit, and hand over the keys. I’ll be happy to take you out to eat when that’s done.”

  “I know where the church is. I can drive over, and you don’t have to feed me. I can take care of myself, but thanks for the offer.”

  “It’s part of my job.” She held the door open impatiently as if he were the last customer to leave at closing time.

  Sam didn’t move.

  She brushed his arm as she reached for her umbrella and computer bag. “I’ll take you to dinner to show our hospitality. It is what the mayor should do for the new interim minister in town. By the time we order dessert, word will have spread that you’ve arrived.”

  Sam picked up on the “new interim” line. “How many visiting pastors have you had this year?”

  “You’ll be the fourth or fifth. The last one made it three Sundays before he broke and ran.” The mayor hid her smile. “We seem to be hard on the clergy.”

  He followed her out of the office, then waited while she locked her door.

  “Can you preach?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator that rattled and grinded.

  “I can preach. The invitation came to me, but I suspect it was meant for my father.” Sam suppressed the urge to tell her that he had given up on Heaven.

  Sam never talked about his only love, or losing his friends that summer in London, or even about his parents. In fact, he hadn’t said April’s name aloud since the day he found out she left this earth without saying goodbye. That night seemed so long ago. He’d screamed for her as if she could hear him and would come back.

  He didn’t believe he’d drop to hell when he died. He was already living there now. But he’d drawn this wild card and he planned to see it through.

  The mayor pushed the elevator button and they stood, staring at the crack in the elevator door as it moved down.

  “Barbeque or chicken fried steak?” she asked.

  For a second he thought she was asking for a password. If so, he had a fifty-fifty chance of failing. Then he remembered she’d mentioned dinner. “Chicken fried steak, of course.”

  “Good. I think you’ll like the place I have in mind. It’s a bit of a local dive, but best chicken-fry for fifty miles.”

  He walked her to her car, then with a nod he turned to his Audi parked three spaces away. Sam followed her the few blocks to the church. The charm of the town surprised him. The streets were clean, the breeze beginning to cool, and the church came into view in Thomas Kinkade perfection. As a teenager he’d driven these very streets, but he hadn’t seen the charm.

  After locking his car, Sam walked up to the driver’s side of the mayor’s SUV.

  For a moment he saw her leaning her head back with her eyes closed as if meditating.

  The lady must be dealing with a big problem. He was just a duty of her office. Once she got rid of him, she’d probably go back to her office.

  He studied her profile. Memorizing the outline of a delicately carved face. Even in the streetlight’s glow he could tell she had a classic kind of beauty. One of those women who could blend into a crowd without being noticed, but in the right clothes, the right makeup, she’d definitely stand out.

  She had beauty and intelligence, only he wasn’t interested in her or any other woman.

  Her silent moment ended and she stepped out.

  Sam grinned. “Little lady in a big car.”

  She managed a smile. “I need to haul a lot of shit.”

  Before he could respond, she added, “My hobby is gardening. Vegetables in the summer and greenhouse flowers in the winter.”

  “Sounds exciting,” he lied, offering her his arm as if they were walking into a formal dinner.

  By the time they reached the church steps, three greeters were standing at the door waiting. As he walked to the huge double-door entrance, the three were taking turns speaking to him, as if they’d rehearsed it.

  Sam just kept smiling as Stella Blake, a slender woman in her mid-thirties he’d guess, rolled off numbers. Attendance, average age, number of days he’d be required to keep office hours, unless there was a death or hospital visit, of course. The woman looked like she’d never been outside of Honey Creek in her life.

  The man on her left, Benjamin Blake, introduced himself as Stella’s older brother. Their great-grandparents were one of the five families who started the church.

  Sam would bet neither of the Bla
kes was married. Benjamin’s sport jacket looked like the Penney’s special from 1985. He was round-shouldered and potbellied and at least ten years older than his sister.

  The third man, Tyrone Tilley, was short and had nicely wrinkled into his eighties. He said all the right things, even had a strong handshake, but something about him wasn’t real. He seemed an actor playing his role but underneath he walked another path that Sam would bet had nothing to do with this life he played.

  Tyrone seemed to speak only in sayings he’d heard. It’s always darkest before the dawn. Good things come to those who wait.

  Stella showed Sam the church, while her brother mentioned the flaws in both the building and the congregation. She was as shy and meek as her brother was bold and bossy.

  When they finished the tour, they were back where they started. Sam spotted the mayor waiting at the front door. She looked bored as Tyrone complained about the spotty cell service in town and demanded to know what she planned to do about it.

  Sam’s relief at seeing Piper must have been apparent, because she gave him a sympathetic smile.

  He managed to thank all three greeters, and accepted the keys to his cottage out back of the church. When Piper offered once more to take him to dinner, he quickly accepted. The last thing he wanted to do was stay around with these three.

  On the way to her SUV, she whispered, “You all right?”

  “You ever see that old movie, Children of the Corn? I just met their grandparents. Stella seemed nice, but she wouldn’t look me in the eye. I don’t know a woman over eighteen that is half as shy.”

  The mayor fought to hold in a giggle, but she didn’t unlock her car. “The café is not far, want to walk?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Within thirty seconds they were walking west, leaving Stella, Benjamin, and Tyrone still standing on the church steps.

  “They do go home, don’t they?”

  She laughed. “I think so.”

  “Good.” He relaxed and she slipped her hand under his arm to guide him. “I was afraid I might find their coffins in the basement.” Swallowing down a few cuss words, Sam realized he was falling out of character. “Sorry about that comment,” he added.

  “You’ll get used to them but don’t expect them to warm up to you.” Mayor Piper was silent a moment, then cleared her throat. “Have you heard about our problem in Honey Creek?”

  “Nope, fill me in.” He thought maybe they’d found mice in the church, or the last minister ran off with the church secretary, or maybe there were bats in the bell tower. There was always some crisis going on.

  When the mayor hesitated, he glanced at her and thought he saw tears in those beautiful eyes.

  “Just tell me. Whatever it is couldn’t be that bad. The church is broke, or it’s splitting apart. I’d like to know what I’m stepping into.”

  The streetlights were getting farther apart and he could no longer see her eyes. They were heading onto a street lined with pawn shops, bars, and weathered restaurants that were only a few blocks from the church.

  He thought it odd how fast the world shifted from being a picture-perfect town to being a place where his senses became more alert.

  “It’s not about the church. It’s about me. The papers claim I’m engaged to a man I dated a few times. He’s disappeared. Everyone in town has a reason they think we broke up, or they think they know why someone killed him even though there is no body.” She straightened like a soldier giving a report. “I’m telling you this because you might not want to be seen with me.”

  “Damn.” Gossip about her wasn’t what he expected.

  “Don’t say damn,” she said, as she stared at the road.

  “What?”

  “Don’t say damn. You’re a preacher, remember. Cussing will rank right up there with me killing my almost fiancé.”

  They both chuckled, and a bond seemed to form between them.

  After a minute, he said, “Maybe outlaws like us should stick together, Mayor? I’ll watch your back and you watch mine.”

  “Maybe we should, Preacher.”

  She pointed to a square building near the corner. The long ribbon of lights circled the roof. They blinked off and on in no apparent pattern, making the red lines seem to stutter. “Best chicken fried steak in town, I promise; but don’t eat anything else here.”

  Sam relaxed a bit as she began telling him about the town as they neared.

  “The first pioneer here settled between the Brazos River and a creek that feeds into it. Our founder, a sea captain, said if he had to move inland he’d need to see water. He built his huge house close to the creek while the town grew farther inland. After all his family died off, my cousin Jessica bought it and turned the first floor into a café. You’ll want to eat breakfast there or at the little coffee shop on the square. My cousin has the best French toast in town. She’d planned to make it a bed and breakfast upstairs but claims too many ghosts still live there.”

  “You only recommend the three?”

  She raised an eyebrow as if to remind him she was the mayor.

  Sam let it pass. “I think I saw the beautiful house at the edge of town when I drove around.” It looked like the home belonged on the northern bay or along the Mississippi. The first floor had shined with new paint, and the wide windows seemed to be welcoming guests. The second- and third-floor windows were dark.

  When they were getting close to the café, Sam turned back to the mayor’s problem. “Tell me the facts about your difficulty before we go inside. I don’t want to talk about it where someone might hear.”

  Piper began explaining her relationship with a man named Boone Buchanan, who had disappeared.

  When she was done, Sam nodded but didn’t comment. He’d just learned what worried her, and all he had to do was figure out how to help. After all, she was the only friend he had in this town.

  When they entered the café, a long bar packed with mostly men greeted them. Several people turned to stare. A few lifted their bottles and smiled.

  Piper nodded at a few but moved directly to a hallway at the back. Sam followed. Five feet into the hallway a room opened to a big dining room. It was rough, well-worn tables, paper towel rolls in the center to serve as napkins, and half a dozen screaming kids to drown out the country music from the bar.

  He smiled. This was his kind of place.

  Sam pushed his shoulders back, plastered on a smile, and started nodding at everyone looking his direction. By the time they sat down at the table by the kitchen, he was starting to feel like a bobblehead.

  He commented that the café smelled like heaven loud enough for several people to hear. When he called Piper “Miss Mayor,” she raised one eyebrow slightly as if in warning that he was laying it on too thick.

  Only, she had a part to play too. She began her welcoming lecture. Though a bit distant, she was the perfect tour guide telling him the history of the town, a few colorful stories about outlaws who hid out here, and how more than one of the old homes had ghost tales to tell.

  He noticed that she mentioned nothing personal. She might have let him see her true self for a moment, but now she was totally a professional.

  While he ate a chicken-fried steak as big as the plate, she bragged about her town of Honey Creek.

  Sam made a show of offering to pay, and she insisted on picking up not only the bill, but the tip as well.

  After dessert, he followed her to the front door, calling out to everyone he’d been introduced to by name.

  Once they were walking back to the church, she said, “I’m impressed. You remembered every name, even the waitress’s.”

  “Knowing names was a skill I learned from my dad. He was a preacher and loved everyone he met. The army taught me to notice details. It takes about five seconds to really look at someone. Height, weight, approximate age, hair color, eye color, visible scars, what they are wearing. Most people don’t take those five seconds.”

  He smiled. “For example, what col
or was the waitress’s uniform? What toy did the little girl who walked past us three times have in her hand? And the cashier, what animal did she have tattooed on her wrist?

  Piper smiled back. “Gray uniform, teddy bear, and a dove.”

  “Are you sure, Mayor? Would you swear in court?”

  “Yes,” she answered, not sounding sure at all.

  “You were closer than most. The toy was a bear. The tattoo was a bird, but the uniform was blue, not gray.”

  “But I didn’t know I’d be having to ID someone or I’d have looked closer.”

  “For the most part, no one does. Practice five seconds now and then. My dad claimed people are fascinating if you just take the time to look.”

  “Did he retire?”

  “I guess you could say that. He went home. Dad and Mom died in a boating accident before I finished college. I thought I’d follow in his footsteps, but it wasn’t a straight path for me.”

  Green eyes studied him. “There’s a story there.”

  “Another time, Mayor. You fed me and now I’ve got to find that shower and bed.”

  As they reached the street corner, a drunk stumbled from a bar near them.

  Piper slowed, waiting for him to pass.

  He wavered right and left as if trying to remember his directions and then headed left down a broken sidewalk.

  Sam watched him, as always noticing details others never saw. He might be medium built and thin, but his shoulders were muscular, rounded slightly from hard work.

  As the drunk passed the alley, three little children stepped out of the shadows and began to follow him. The oldest, maybe ten or twelve, pulled an old wagon. The other two, a few years younger, walked beside the wagon. They kept their distance from the drunk, and the man in work clothes never looked back.

  The mayor answered the question Sam hadn’t asked. “They’re not his kids. Daily Watts was only married a short time. People say that she died. He gets drunk every Friday night, walks home, and usually, no one sees him again until Monday morning when he walks to work. He’s a mechanic who doesn’t own a car.”

  When Sam remained silent, she added, “The Sanderson kids lost their father five years back. Their mom works days at the cleaners and nights at the hotel.”