Change of Heart (The True Heart Series Book 3) Page 8

  Mrs. Terrence looped her arm through Carrie’s as if they were old friends. “Let’s go see your new accommodations and make sure they live up to your expectations. Parker will remedy any problems you may have. You know how she is.”

  Mrs. Terrence was a bundle of energy. For a woman seventy-plus-years of age, she was certainly spry. If she’d been a dog, she would’ve been a Jack Russell terrier. And she looked darned good, too. And it wasn’t the type of good looks money could buy; it was a beauty that emanated from within. Carrie felt immediately at ease with Mrs. Terrence.

  Mrs. Terrence lead Carrie and Parker across the pebble-stone path toward the carriage house. It was also built of stone and had four bays for cars. On the side was a set of stairs that led up to the apartment. “It’s fully furnished. If you’d prefer to bring your own furniture we can move this stuff down into the garage.”

  Carrie looked at Parker. Yeah, she’d definitely leave her furniture behind. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t have much. I was living in Belize before moving back.” She bit her lip. She should stop talking. Maybe less was more in this particular instance.

  “Yes, I know, dear. Pity things happened as they did,” Mrs. Terrence said as she opened the door to the apartment. “I wish I’d been a runaway bride with my first husband. He was an absolute rat and would not listen to a word I said. Luckily, he died young of a brain aneurism. That’s where the money tree began.”

  “You weren’t at my wedding, were you?” Carrie asked as they all three traipsed up the staircase.

  “No, dear, but Susan attended my mother while she was at Brookside and I heard all about it That’s where I met Parker and her darling partner, Amy.”

  “Oh,” Carrie said. She looked at Parker. “Was Amy’s mom at Brookside?”

  “Yes,” Parker said.

  “Now, what do you think?” Mrs. Terrence said, opening the door and swinging her arms wide.

  Carrie stepped inside. She felt like Dorothy the first time she entered through the gates of the Emerald City. The apartment was simply amazing. It was nicer than anything Carrie had ever lived in. It had leather furniture, bookcases with actual books, a fireplace, a flat-screen television, and an entertainment center filled with CDs and DVDs.

  “It’s… awesome,” Carrie said, so stunned she couldn’t think of a better word.

  “I’m glad you like it, dear. We’ll be leaving next week. I’d like to do a walk-through of the house and give you all the garden details. Do you have time?”

  “Sure,” Carrie said. She looked over at Parker. “If it’s all right with you? I don’t want to keep you.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Fabulous. I’ll have Mrs. Ramirez rustle us up some sandwiches. You girls must be hungry. Then we’ll get on with the tour.” She marched down the steps in front of them.

  “Thank you,” Carrie whispered to Parker.

  Chapter Seven

  Amy sat in the front row of the VFW hall, site of the infamous Bingo-a-thon where she had been on the winning team. She’d only been in Fenton a short time when Millie had roped her into taking the job at the Fenton Sentinel. Then Millie had convinced her to be on her bingo team, citing it was for research purposes, because Amy was supposed to write a newspaper article on the Bingo-a-thon. It had been fun, even if Mabel had been doing a victory dance on the table, fallen flat on her face, and damaged her dentures. A smile crept across Amy’s face as she recalled it. Rascal lay at her feet, panting on the cement floor, looking up at her adoringly. Jeb reached down and patted his head.

  Jeb sat down next to her. “I hate these damn city council meetings. These guys are all a bunch of buffoons,” he said, adjusting himself on the hard metal chair. “And these chairs are torture devices.”

  Jeb had recently contracted hemorrhoids and sitting was pure hell. At the office, he sat on a donut to relieve some of the pressure, but he was too embarrassed to bring it out in public. “I should’ve brought one of those camp chairs like Millie and her girls,” he said, nodding in the direction where Millie’s Militia sat.

  “I wouldn’t call them girls if I were you. They’re women. They’re real prickly about the word ‘girls’ these days,” Amy said.

  “And why the hell is that?” Jeb said, adjusting in his chair again.

  “They feel it demeans them, making them sound like children in need of care and discipline by men.”

  Jeb shook his head. “I thought all that stuff got sorted out in the seventies.” He let out a large sigh. “Oh, crap. There’s Clementine.”

  “Usually you’re delighted to see the love of your life,” Amy said, waving at Clementine. Clementine waved sweetly at Amy, but stabbed Jeb with a fierce glare.

  “Uh oh. Looks like you’re in trouble. What did you do?” Amy asked.

  More of Millie’s Militia strode by with their camp chairs, setting them up in the front of the room, making their own front row.

  “I made a comment about her change in footwear,” Jeb said.

  Amy was puzzled. As far as she knew, Jeb never noticed what anyone was wearing. She could come to work in bunny slippers and he wouldn’t notice. “Footwear?” she asked.

  “Yeah, she’s taken to wearing boots.”

  “What’s wrong with boots?” Amy leaned over and tried to get a look at Clementine’s boots as she set up her chair next to Millie.

  “They’re not just boots, they’re combat boots. She says they make her feel empowered.”

  “Oh,” Amy said.

  “What does empowered mean?”

  “It means you better get on the feminist train or you’re toast,” Amy said.

  “And just how do I do that?” Jeb asked, staring at the back of his wife’s head.

  “You should probably start by putting the toilet seat down. That’s a real point of contention.”

  Jeb threw his hands in the air in a gesture of submission. “I’m surrounded by feminists. Even Sam has joined the movement. I have no allies, except maybe Luke.”

  At that moment, Luke walked in carrying his camera equipment. He was wearing a long skirt. Between the skirt and his man bun, he resembled a very butch Pentecostal woman.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jeb whispered. “He’s wearing a skirt.”

  “Did I forget to tell you about that?” Amy said with a chuckle.

  “You forgot to tell me my first-born man-child has taken to wearing skirts? That just slipped your mind?” Jeb said, his voice squeaky.

  Amy shrugged. “It’s the latest thing. They call it gender-fluid. Luke, as a feminist man wearing a skirt, has become very popular with the college girls.”

  “I guess I should be thankful he still pursues women,” he said, looking over at Amy. Amy frowned.

  “I mean if he were gay that’d be okay with me,” Jeb amended. He thought for a moment, then asked, “If he’s wearing a skirt and pursuing women, does that make him a lesbian?”

  Amy narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m putting my foot in my mouth, aren’t I?” Jeb asked in a small voice.

  Amy nodded. “You should probably stop talking now.”

  Jeb sighed heavily. “I don’t know what the hell to think or say anymore.” He squinted one eye and screwed up his mouth. “I probably shouldn’t use the word ‘pursue’ huh?”

  “Probably not,” Amy said, “It sounds like a man is chasing a woman down. It might behoove both of us to learn what not to say. I could get myself in trouble, too. In this climate, semantics matter.”

  “Geez, I’m never going to get it,” Jeb said.

  “I’ll help you,” Amy said.

  “You’re not setting me up are you?”

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “I heard Clementine talking about something called misandry that was going around. I’ve worked crosswords my whole life and never heard of it. I thought it was some virus like the flu. I had to google it. It didn’t sound good.”

  For the first time since she’d known him,
Jeb looked vulnerable and scared. She took his hand, another thing she’d never done. “I’ll help you, okay?”

  Jeb looked relieved. “I just don’t understand things anymore. It’s like my world,” he amended, “our world got dumped on its head. Everything’s gone topsy-turvy. I love women, I always have, but now I’m the enemy.”

  “You’re not the enemy. You’re just part of the patriarchy,” Amy said.

  “And, according to my own wife, that’s a terrible thing,” Jeb said.

  “We’ll figure it out. Right now, though, I’d tread softy.”

  Jeb snapped his fingers. “Maybe you should write a column and get some education going. You know, a column for men like me. You might be able to save a lot of marriages.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know?”

  Amy wasn’t good at confrontation. It had taken her a long time to admit that to herself. She’d been a coward in her past relationships and she’d been a coward when it came to her mother. Every time things got messy or confrontational, she ran. And now, when she should be standing up like Millie and Clementine, she was afraid to write a column about feminism because she didn’t want to go around town and have people hate her. She looked over at Jeb. “I’m scared.”

  “Oh,” Jeb said. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I thought it might help the men if we had some idea of how women felt. I don’t think Clementine and I would be at odds if I were better informed.” He patted her hand.

  Amy knew the world was not going to be a better place if men and women hated each other. It would only make things worse. “No, I’ll do it. I don’t want to be a coward my whole life.”

  “Who says you’re a coward? You came back and stayed by your mother, you took a chance on Parker, and Lord knows, being a writer puts you out there. You have to be tough to say things that may not always be popular.”

  “Oh,” Amy said.

  “Oh,” Jeb echoed.

  Amy laughed. “We’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

  “Yeah, I think the entire world is having a lot of ‘oh’ moments.”

  ***

  Mayor Austin tapped his gavel. “I call this meeting to order. And I want you ladies to behave yourselves,” he said, glaring at the women in the front row. “This is a meeting and no place for raucous behavior.”

  “Oh look, a man is telling us what to do,” Mabel said loudly. “Just like always.”

  “He’s the mayor, Mabel,” Clara whispered. “That’s what they do.”

  “Humph,” Mabel said. She clicked her flip-flops against the bottom of her feet, making slapping noises.

  “Stop that,” Clara said. She put her hand on Mabel’s bouncing knee. “You’re like a cat flicking its tail in irritation.”

  “I am irritated. Who does that milquetoast man think he is?” Mabel retorted.

  “As I recall you voted for him.”

  “I thought he had liberal leanings. I had to vote because it’s my civic duty and the suffragettes put their lives on the line so I could vote,” Mabel said. “I had no idea he’d behave like a republican.”

  Millie leaned over Bernie and said to Mabel, “Don’t worry. Our list of demands will put him in his place.”

  “Damn right,” Clementine said.

  Jeb looked over at Amy who said, “Do not say a word. Pet Rascal. He’ll make you feel better.”

  Hearing his name, Rascal sat up and put his big head in Jeb’s lap. He gazed up at Jeb with his large chocolate colored eyes, full of caring. Jeb stroked his head. “You’re a good boy.”

  Amy was always amazed at how good Rascal made people feel. It was if he extracted all their fears and concerns and set them free to evaporate into the vastness of the universe where they disappeared into the ether.

  “To begin the meeting, it needs to be said that the women’s march,” the mayor used air quotes around the words ‘women’s march,’ “was completely unnecessary as well as being illegal. Fenton does not have women’s issues. We respect our women and there is no need for complaining. The gender issues,” once again, he put air quotes around the words ‘gender issues’, “is plain silly. We’re a small town with small town values. The current climate of unrest in the country at large does not affect our quaint hamlet in the least.”

  He looked out at the crowd and was met only with stony gazes. He turned to the panel where the other council members and the Deputy Mayor, whose hands were clasped together so hard that her knuckles were bone white, sat. The male members of the council looked out at their wives sitting in the audience.

  Jeb whispered, “This does not bode well.”

  “Are we not in agreement?” Mayor Austin asked, evidently confused by the crowd’s silence.

  “We are not, you misogynist,” Mabel said. She took off her flip-flop, stood, and hurled it at the mayor. It hit him square in the forehead. Following Mabel’s lead, Millie and her militia, including Clementine, stood up, cupped their hands around their mouths, and booed him.

  Mayor Austin stood in shock, rubbing his forehead. “That was uncalled for.”

  Rascal ran to the front of the room and retrieved the flip-flop. He brought it back to Mabel. She took the flip-flop and patted his head, then pulled a small dog biscuit from her pocket. She carried them around in her pockets, so she’d always be prepared when she saw Rascal. He gently took it from her and went to sit between Jeb and Amy.

  “You’re going to pay for that!” Mayor Austin shouted.

  “No! You’re going to pay!” Clementine shouted back.

  Other women in the crowd stood up and one of them yelled “Impeach him!” The crowd of women took up the chant, yelling, “Im-peach! Im-peach!”

  “Can you impeach a mayor?” Amy asked. She’d whipped out her notebook and was busy scribbling notes. She didn’t want to miss any of this.

  “Yes. It’s referred to as a recall but it’s essentially an impeachment and the citizens do have the power to remove him,” Jeb answered. “I know because Clementine has been researching it all.”

  The crowd’s chants were growing. Even some men were joining in with the chant.

  Luke roamed the room, snapping pictures. Amy saw several cell phones held up recording the ruckus. “Uh oh, this is going to be big,” Amy said.

  “As in all over YouTube?” Jeb asked. He was petting Rascal so hard that Amy worried he’d pet his fur off.

  “I’m thinking Fenton is going to be famous in about two minutes,” Amy said.

  “Arrest that woman!” Mayor Austin spewed, pointing his finger at Mabel.

  Amy turned around in her seat and saw Chief Bob Ed sitting in the back row. The chief looked uncomfortable. He knew as well as Amy that arresting Mabel would cause an even bigger stink.

  “I didn’t hurt you, you wussy!” Mabel yelled. She was now standing on her chair.

  Chief Bob Ed stood up and yelled in his most authoritative voice, “Quiet! I want everyone to take their seats right now.”

  “Down with the patriarchy!” Clementine yelled back.

  Jeb stood up with the intention of calming his wife down. Amy grabbed him by the belt and yanked him back toward his seat. “Are you crazy? They’ll flay you alive,” she hissed.

  Jeb sat back down, looking helpless.

  Amy felt a deep-seated thrill that the men sitting on the dais looked frightened by the fury of the women. She thought, how does it feel to have the shoe on the other foot?

  Mayor Austin pounded his gavel. “This is why women shouldn’t be in charge. They can’t control their emotions!” Mayor Austin said.

  Amy blanched. “That was not the right thing to say.”

  “Nope,” Jeb agreed.

  Suddenly, Mabel took off her other flip-flop and cocked her arm. Clara attempted to stop her, but was half a second too late. Mabel’s flip-flop sailed across the room. The mayor saw it coming and turned and ducked. The flip-flop hit him square in the butt.

  The crowd roared with laughter.

 
Clementine unlaced her boots and threw them at the mayor. Millie’s Militia quickly shucked off their shoes and hurled them. Some shoes hit their mark. The mayor cowered behind the podium. The rest of the city council members dove for cover under the long table where they’d been sitting.

  Amy began to unlace her cross trainers.

  “You too?” Jeb asked.

  “I have to make a stand with my sisters.”

  The mayor came out from behind the podium and angrily shook his fist at the crowd. He hurled insults at the women, but he couldn’t be heard over the mob’s chanting.

  “They’re my sisters, too,” Jeb said. He pulled off his boots and cocked his arm. He let the first boot sail. His aim was true. He hit the mayor right in his balls.

  Surprised, Clementine looked at Jeb. She ran around the chairs and threw herself into his surprised arms. “I love you, Jeb Marshall.”

  “I love you, too,” he said.

  In the midst of the hubbub and hailstorm of shoes, Jeb and Clementine embraced. Jeb was barefoot and happy.

  ***

  Parker had finished showering and was getting dressed when Amy arrived home with Rascal at her heels. Amy left Rascal outside to sniff around and make sure no one had infiltrated the perimeter during his absence.

  Amy leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom. “Hey, there,” she said.

  “How was the meeting?” Parker asked.

  “Oh, you know, city council meeting where all hell broke loose with Millie’s Militia. Mabel threw her flip-flop at the mayor and hit him in the face. Then the mayor continued to insult them. So the rest of the women, including me and Jeb, took off our shoes and threw them at the mayor. Jeb hit the mayor in the balls with his cowboy boot.”

  “Jeb must have amazing aim. That’s a small target,” Parker said.

  They laughed.

  “Nobody got arrested, did they?” Parker asked.

  “Actually—and this is the best part— Chief Bob Ed arrested the mayor.”