I've mentioned Faylene McFarland, my main character in the Faylene in High Plains books several times, but some of you may not be acquainted with her. She can be pretty vocal and has been pestering me to introduce hersself to any of you who don't know her.
So, to please her and get her to stop talking in my ear, I am posting the first chapter of book one in the series, "Faylene's Biggest Catch."
Coincidentally, you'll also get to meet a few of her quirky friends. I hope you enjoy what she and her pals have to say.
Chapter One
The gaudy neon sign flashed the words
“Bart’s Discount Caskets” alternately with “Come in and browse”. I rubbed my
eyes and blinked, but I wasn’t seeing things. Pulling up in front of the
building, I shook my head at the conspicuous advertisement in the window.
So that’s what Becky Jo had been bragging
about. She made sure everyone at Tootie’s Cafe knew her brother was involved in
a new business venture. While I was enjoying one of Tootie’s legendary ham
omelets, she approached me with a smug smile on her made-up face. “Faylene,
Bart’s got hisself a business loan, and he’s on the cutting edge of something.
I guess now you won’t be the only one in town that’s a business proprietor.”
Me, a business proprietor? What a fancy
word for someone who owns a car wash in High Plains, Texas. I used to be an
executive assistant for an attorney until my fiftieth birthday, when I realized
I didn’t want the responsibility anymore. Deadlines and incessantly ringing
phones became very unappealing. I quit and went for something with a lot less
stress and a lot more freedom. That’s when I bought The Splash N Dash Car Wash.
Because I’d been single my whole life, I didn’t even have to okay it with
anyone.
Apparently, Bart had become the
‘proprietor’ of a retail casket store. I figured it must be another one of his
get-rich-quick schemes, but I sincerely hoped it turned out better than his
last one. Painting cattle guards did not turn out to be profitable. Yes, he
really tried that. I can’t make this stuff up.
I
had to go in and check out the newest store in town. Bart stood behind a
counter, talking on the phone. He hung up abruptly and bounced toward me,
stretching up to his full height in an attempt to bring us eye to eye. Still,
it was more like his eye to my nose. I think it bothers him that he’s shorter
than me. He gave a quick nod. “Well, if isn’t Miss Faylene McFarland.”
“Yes, it’s me.” I squinted in the dim
light, trying to see my surroundings. Soft organ music played in the
background. What was supposed to be soothing came off as a bit macabre. I had
visions of Boris Karloff banging on a pipe organ, bats flying overhead.
Instinctively, I swatted the air above me.
Bart looked at me, puzzled. “Everything
okay?”
I gulped. “Fine. Just fine.”
His voice became soft and concerned. Maybe
he had taken acting classes. I’d never known Bart to be concerned about
anything or anyone but himself. “Would you like to hear about our pre-payment
plan?” Bart had a slight under bite. When we were in school, the kids used to
call him Bart the Bulldog. One time in junior high, he tried to kiss me. I had
turned my head away, not wanting his flabby lower lip to ever touch mine.
I found myself looking at his mouth,
thinking about that day. “No, thanks. Not interested in a plan. I just came in
out of curiosity.”
“Yes, well, as the sign says, browse all
you like.” He leaned obnoxiously close to me, his combover almost in my face.
“And when you’re done, maybe you’d like to grab a bite for lunch?”
“I don’t think so, Bart. I have to check
the change machines at the car wash.”
He shrugged. “Your loss, doll. Maybe next
time.”
I left as fast as I could without
sprinting. My cell phone began to ring, and Molly June Taylor’s gushy voice
greeted me. “Faylene, I’m here at the Splash N Dash and I need help.”
“I’m on my way, Molly. Hang on.” Molly
June hadn’t grasped the concept that the car wash was for cars. The last time
she called me, she was using a spray wand to wash off her husband Duane’s muddy
boots.
When I rounded the corner, I saw Molly
June’s small frame in one of the bays. She struggled with a large red wagon,
tugging on the handle. I pulled in, bracing myself for whatever the wagon
contained.
She called to me. “Hurry up! I need help.”
I ran over and looked in the wagon. Orange
and white golf balls covered the bottom. I didn’t even ask.
Molly handed me the wagon handle, and used
the soap brush on the golf balls. “Now you stir them up and I’ll rinse them
off.”
I scrunched my eyebrows into a knot. “Stir
them up?”
“Yes. You know, so they’ll all get
rinsed.” My instinct was to argue with her. It was a very hot day, even for
Texas. Most folks were indoors, not out doing physical labor. But I knew Molly
June. I would be wasting my breath.
I shuffled them around and waited
patiently while Molly June rinsed. When she was done, she instructed me, “Now
dump the water out of the wagon.”
There must have been at least a hundred
golf balls swimming in several inches of water. “Uh, I don’t think I can do
that. The wagon’s heavy, and the balls will roll out.”
Molly June sighed loudly. “Faylene, isn’t
this your car wash?”
“Yes, but…”
“You’re wiry. Those long arms can handle
it. Besides, I don’t want to break a nail.” I glared at her, but she spoke
again before I could. “Don’t you think you should take care of your customers?
Just dump out all the water you can, and we’ll scoop out the rest.” She cupped
her hands together, making a scooping motion.
“Okay, Molly, I’ll try, but let me remind
you that this is a car wash. For cars. You know, you drive your automobile into
the bay, feed the coins in the slot and use the spray wand to wash your car. It
really isn’t recommended for anything else.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you don’t think I
would wash these golf balls in my bathtub, do you? I’ve got a lovely claw foot
porcelain tub, and there is no way I would do that.”
“Do you have a garden hose?”
Molly stared blankly for a minute, then
sniffed. “Well, I’m here now. Just help me finish, okay?”
When we had scooped out most of the water,
Molly smiled. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Maybe not for her. I smiled back, hesitant
to voice my real thoughts. “If that’s all, I have to check the change
machines.”
“Whatever. Oh, hey, did you hear about
Bart West’s casket business?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was coming
from there when you called.”
“You were? I hope you’re not in need of a
coffin. And did you ever hear of such a thing?” She shook her head. “Discount
caskets, my eye.”
Nodding, I agreed. “It is a little
strange.”
Molly pulled the wagon up to the door of
my SUV. “You’ll need to give me a ride home.”
I glanced around, not seeing Molly June’s
vehicle. “You didn’t bring your car?”
“No. I pulled the wagon
thinking the exercise would do me good, but I’m worn out now, and it’s hot.
It’s all too much for a little ole thing like me, anyway.”
My lack of patience wasn’t Molly’s
problem. I tried to remember I was a Christian, so I said, “Okay. Help me lift
the wagon into the back.”
She made a half-hearted attempt to lift
the front end of the wagon while I raised the back end up into my vehicle and
pushed.
Out of breath, I climbed into the driver’s
seat. Molly June faced me as I drove, a serious look on her face.
“Girl, are
you ever going to get married?”
Silently, I counted to ten. “Have you been
talking to Iris?”
“Well, of course I have. She’s concerned
about you. You do remember Iris’s deathbed promise to your mother, don’t you?”
Of course I remembered. Iris was my
mother’s best friend. Mom made Iris promise to try to get me married off. I had
to smile. They had done everything in their power for years to find a husband
for me.
My SUV glided into Molly’s drive. “Don’t
you worry about me. I’m happy just the way I am.”
“You know Bart would marry you in a
heartbeat if you just showed him a little interest.”
“No, thanks. He’s not my type. In fact, I
wonder if he’s anyone’s type. I know he means well, but he’s just so…”
“You don’t have time to worry about
finding your type, honey. You’re a spinster if I ever saw one. In fact, you’re
getting mighty close to old maid territory. You still don’t look half bad,
although you could use some wrinkle cream. And so you’re a little awkward, but
that’s probably because you’re flat footed. You shouldn’t wear flip flops, you
know.”
I shut off the engine in front of Molly
June’s house. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m doing just fine. I hate to rush
you off, but I really need do to go check the change machines. Somehow I forgot
to do that.”
“Fine. Help me get my wagon out.”
***
Iris knocked on my front door early the
next day. “Faylene? You in there?”
I was busy paying bills. “Come on in,
Iris.”
Iris was a tiny lady, but she loved large
handbags. She glued plastic flowers on them to match her outfits. Her current
bag had a large red bloom glued to its side. She pushed through the door
wearing a bright red pant suit, her lips smeared with matching red lipstick. A
cloud of lavender scent followed her.
She
hovered over me. “Come downtown with me, dear. I want to see Bart’s new store.”
I peered at her over my glasses. “You do
know it’s a casket store?”
“Why yes, I’ve heard. I was actually going
to talk to him about his pre-payment plan. At my age, you just never know.”
When Iris set her mind on something, there
was no talking her out of it. “All right. I can finish these bills later.”
Gently placing my hand on Iris’s elbow, I
helped her down the porch steps.“Mercy, Fay,” she said. “I am not helpless.”
I raised both hands in surrender. “All
right. Just being neighborly.” Did I mention Iris is a very independent lady?
She chattered while I drove, stopping only
to dab at her lipstick when we arrived at the casket store.
Bart met us at the door. He winked at me.
“Couldn’t stay away?”
“Funny. I’ve just come to keep Iris
company.”
Iris stood at the door, taking in the
casket displays all around the store. She approached one and ran her hand along
its smooth surface.
I waited patiently while Bart showed her
several different caskets. Iris shook her head and frowned. “I thought this was
a discount casket company. These seem awfully expensive.”
“Oh, these are about half what they would
cost from a funeral director. Don’t take my word for it, though. Check it out
for yourself.”
I
shrugged. “He’s right, Iris. I remember getting Mom and Dad’s caskets. These
are relatively inexpensive.”
Bart beamed. “There. You know Faylene
wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
Iris shifted her purse on her arm. “Of
course she wouldn’t. Well, then, I guess there’s nothing to do but get one, if
they’re a bargain. Dear, do you like the silver, or do you think the powder
blue would go better with my eyes?”
“Iris, I hate to bring this up, but your
eyes will be closed,” I said.
She nodded in agreement. “Then let’s go
with the silver.”
While Iris filled out paperwork, I watched
the people passing by on Main Street. That’s when I noticed the men building
something near the courthouse.
“Hey Bart, what’re they doing over there?”
He looked up from his papers. “That’s the
new band shell. They’ll use it for the Catfish Festival, and other community
events, too. That’s what I heard, anyway.”
Iris spoke up. “I love the Catfish
Festival. When my Robert was alive, he always entered the Biggest Catch
Contest. He never did win, but he came close a couple of times. Loved to fish,
that man did.”
The conversation took me back to my
childhood. High Plains, Texas rarely gets enough rain in a year. It’s hot and
dry in the summer, but we are blessed to have natural springs outside of town.
Years ago, someone with foresight had suggested the springs be dammed up to
form Coyote Springs Lake. “Iris, do you remember me going out on the lake with
him and Dad when I was a little girl?”
She laughed. “Of course I do. You were as
bad as they were. You loved to fish more than you loved to eat back then.”
I continued. “They always got so excited
when they caught something. Dad entered the contest once, but he didn’t win.
The Jackson guys beat him. Seems like they win a lot.”
Bart handed papers to Iris to sign. “They
wouldn’t have won so many times if they hadn’t cheated,” he said.
“The rules
say the fish can’t be caught by any means other than on a pole. I saw them take
their prize off a trot line one year. It was my word against theirs, though. I
never told anyone. What good would it have done?”
I agreed. “I’ve heard rumors about them
not following rules, too. Well, Iris, if you’re finished, I need to run by my
car wash.”
“Certainly, dear.” She shook hands with
Bart. He winked at me as we made our way out. I hoped he didn’t see me roll my
eyes.
Iris patted my hand. “Bart’s really a
lovely man. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
“Iris, I love you, but I’ve told you a
thousand times, I’m not interested in Bart.”
“Well he’s a business owner now. You could
do worse.”
“I wonder just how long that business will
survive. This is a small community. Not much call for high volume casket
sales.”
She set her lips. “Well, you still could
do worse.”
***
When I returned to my house, I felt a rush
of warmth. It was the house I’d grown up in and it exuded charm. When I
inherited it, I eagerly left my sterile apartment and moved back in. I’d
removed the carpet, exposing the golden oak floors, and had the kitchen
modernized with new countertops and appliances. While the inside was
comfortable, my favorite part of the house was the front porch. I didn’t change
a thing. Under the overhang was a shady place to sit and visit. My mother’s
trumpet vine snaked its way up the supporting pillars and a hummingbird feeder
hung from one of the beams.
Once inside, I curled up to rest, but my
down time didn’t last long. A loud bang, followed by another one, jolted me off
the couch. I looked out the front window. An old car was weaving its way slowly
down the street, backfiring repeatedly. The driver was Mr. Bill Fenton, my
elderly neighbor.
I ran outside, shouting at him to pull
over. He ignored me. Mr. Fenton hadn’t had a driver’s license for several
years, and his son had taken his car keys. Apparently, he missed one.
Thinking quickly, I ran in to get my own
keys and jumped into my SUV. I drove around the block the opposite way, and met
Mr. Fenton in the middle of the street. His car putted toward mine, head on. I
honked, rolled down the window, and yelled. “Mr. Fenton, stop!”
He stared straight ahead, still headed for
my vehicle. I was willing to take the hit to stop him. As slow as he was going,
I doubted there would be much damage. I braced myself for impact when the old
car’s engine suddenly quieted, and the car rolled to a stop a few feet from
mine.
The elderly man peering over the top of
the steering wheel looked startled. His face was unusually pale and his glasses
had slid all the way down his nose.
I jumped out and opened his car door. “Mr.
Fenton, are you all right?”
He scowled. “Well, of course I’m all
right, but this blasted bucket of rust isn’t. It just quit running.”
“Here, let me help you out, and we’ll call
for help. We need to get your car out of the road. Come and sit in my vehicle
while I call a tow truck.”
He frowned, but allowed me to lead him to
my car. His round cheeks had regained some color. Drumming his fingers
impatiently on my dashboard, he asked, “Now what?”
Before I could call anyone, a policeman
arrived. Someone must have seen what had happened. The High Plains grapevine
would be launching into high gear.
The elderly gentleman snorted. “Police.
Bunch of kids. They don’t know a thing. I need a mechanic.”
Officer Parker was indeed a kid, but his
baby face belied his professional demeanor. He wrote while I talked, then went
to speak to Mr. Fenton. “May I see your driver’s license, please?”
He sat up a little straighter and leaned
toward the open window. “Was a time when a man didn’t need such a thing. He
just drove, and followed the rules of the road.”
Officer Parker’s expression didn’t change.
“I’ll need to see your license, sir.”
“Now you listen here.” Mr. Fenton shook
his finger at the policeman. “You’re still wet behind the ears and you can’t
tell me what to do. I don’t need you. I need a mechanic.”
I reached inside and touched Mr. Fenton’s
shoulder. “Don’t get upset. I’ll talk to him.”
The young cop and I walked away from my
vehicle. “Officer Parker, this is my neighbor, Bill Fenton. He can be
forgetful. His son thought he had taken his car keys away, but I guess he
didn’t get them all. If you’ll just let me call his son, I’ll get this
straightened out. No one’s hurt, and there’s no damage to either vehicle. We
can push his car to the shoulder and have it towed.”
Officer Parker searched my face. “This is
unusual, but if you’ll call the son right now and let me speak with him, I’ll
let this go.”
“Thank you, sir.” I did as instructed.
In a few minutes, Oren Fenton arrived.
Officer Parker spoke briefly with him and left.
Oren sighed. “Thanks, Faylene. I’ll take
over.”
“No problem. I was just concerned for your
dad’s safety.”
“Me, too. I’ll have Gertie call you and
invite you to dinner. Much obliged.”
Mr. Fenton’s son guided his father out of
my SUV. I waved goodbye and decided to make a quick trip past the car wash. All
the bays were empty. I prayed for rain, because everyone knows when you wash
your car, it rains. I hoped the Lord didn’t think I was being selfish, but I
had just paid my bills, and could use some extra money. Besides, praying for
rain in dry West Texas wasn’t selfish. The farmers almost always needed it.
I went home to turn in early.
***
The band shell on the square was nearing
completion. I stopped my SUV and got out to get a closer look. Men in hardhats
drilled and hammered and shouted back and forth to each other. One approached
me and spoke. “Hello, ma’am. Can I help you with something?”
He had dimples and silver sideburns. “Hi.
Oh, uh, no. I was just seeing how things are going. I’ve lived here all my life
and always like to check out what’s new in town.” I prayed that my babbling
made sense.
He pulled off his work glove and extended
his hand. “Sure. I’m Mike Chapman. Nice to meet you.”
Somehow, I found myself smiling at him a
little too much. I tried to widen my eyes and stretch away the crow’s feet.
Wow. I was attracted to this man. My common sense took a hike, and I hoped he
wasn’t married.
One of the workers called to him. Mr.
Chapman looked a little annoyed. “Excuse me, Miss …uh?”
“Faylene. Faylene McFarland.”
“Well, Miss Faylene McFarland, I’m being
paged.”
Still grinning stupidly, I replied, “Oh,
certainly. Nice to meet you, too.”
“Maybe I’ll see you again?”
“Yes, maybe.” That grin on my face just
would not go away. Surely a married man wouldn’t say that, would he?
I left my vehicle parked and walked down
the block to Tootie’s Cafรฉ. The building was old, but well kept. It smelled of
strong coffee and bacon. I checked the bulletin board just inside the door. It
had gotten punched so full of thumbtack holes that chunks had fallen off, and
there wasn’t a lot of useable space left. Because High Plains was small, people
used the bulletin board to post needed specialty items from Lubbock. Anyone
going that way took the note and got the items for the person requesting them. I
often just read the board for fun. It never ceased to amaze me what people
thought they needed. One note read: Need plantains, chocolate covered coffee
beans, and red satin pillow cases.
When I looked up from the bulletin board,
Molly June waved at me from the gathering of mid-morning coffee breakers.
“Faylene, come and sit with me.”
I really wasn’t in the mood for Molly
June, but being the kind-hearted person I am, I obliged her. She touched her
hair and grinned. “Do you like the new color?”
“New color?” It didn’t look any different to
me.
Annoyed, she let out a puff of air. “Yes.
It was Platinum Ring #4; now it’s Platinum Ice #3. Can’t you tell?”
“Oh. Well, maybe I see a
subtle difference.”
“Subtle difference? Goodness, Faylene,
it’s strikingly different.”
I forced a smile.
“Well, never mind. You probably didn’t
notice because you’re just not into that sort of thing. Really, Fay, why don’t
you do a little something with yourself? You’ve got nice eyes, and you’re not
overweight or anything. You have potential.”
“Buh-bye, Molly. I’ve got things to do.”
She grabbed my arm. “Oh, now wait a
minute. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I was just giving you a little
advice. Have a cup of coffee with me.”
Bart’s sister Becky Jo Johnson popped up
from the booth right behind me, scaring me in the process.
“Molly’s right,
Faylene. You could use some help.”
Becky Jo’s makeup looked like it had been
shoveled on, and her hair was stacked so high you could have driven a
Volkswagen under it. She could have used some help herself.
I folded my arms. “What is this, Pick on
Faylene Day, or something?”
Becky Jo clucked. “Just stating a fact.
Doesn’t matter. For some reason Bart likes you just the way you are. Why won’t
you go out with him, anyway?”
Standing, I faced Becky.
“Bart’s a nice enough guy, but I’m just not interested, and he knows it. Now if
you ladies will excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to you two
figure out how to fix what’s wrong with me.”
Becky’s eyes widened. I turned and walked
off, the aging floorboards creaking under my feet. I’m pretty sure I heard
Molly say, “I never…”
Since Tootie’s didn’t work out for me, I
went to Bart’s. Any port in the storm would do. Besides, I wanted a good view
of the construction site. No one was in the front of the store, but I could
hear noises in the back.
“Bart?”
“That you, doll?”
“Umm, it’s Faylene.”
“Be right there.”
He came out, wiping his mouth on a napkin.
“Becky Jo brought me a piece of cake. She makes the best red velvet cake I ever
tasted. That Johnny Johnson’s lucky he snagged my sis.”
“I suppose he is.”
“Did you come to take me up on that lunch
date?”
“No. Actually, I just came in to kill a
little time.”
“Sure. Have a seat.” He pointed to a stool
behind the counter.
“Thanks, but I’ll just stand here and look
out the window.”
The handsome man I met earlier walked past
my SUV and paused. I think he peeked in. “Hey Bart, do you know that guy
there?”
Bart squinted. “Which one?”
“Right there, walking past my
car.”
“No. I think the crew’s from up around
Amarillo somewhere. Why? You got a thing for him? I wouldn’t like that.”
I ignored his question. “Gotta go, Bart.
Thanks for letting me hang out.”
He mumbled something about nobody having
time for him as I left.
My SUV almost drove itself past the car wash.
Three of the six bays were full.
(End of Chapter One)
¤¤¤
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Happy Writing,
Betty
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