Hope Springs - 05 - Wedding Cake (3 page)

“I think I’d rather do it here,” Jessie said. She was starting to enjoy the idea.

Beatrice glanced around. “Inside or out?” she asked.

James and Jessie looked at each other and at the same time answered, “Out.”

Beatrice grinned. “An outdoor wedding.” She thought about the logistics of planning the event. “Summer then?” she asked.

“Late spring,” Jessie replied.

“May,” James added. “Our anniversary is in May.” He took another sip of coffee and winked again at his wife.

“May it is,” Beatrice exclaimed. “Oh my, there’s so much to do and not a lot of time to do it in. We’ll need to think about flowers and music and a photographer and a honeymoon.” She pushed her chair away from the table. “And, oh my, I have another fabulous idea!”

“What?” Jessie asked.

“How about putting together a wedding cookbook?” she asked, her face flushed with excitement.

And both Jessie and James turned to their friend in exasperation and yelled at the same time,
“No cookbook!
”

C
harlotte was staring out the window and still thinking about Beatrice and their conversation, how she had spilled the beans and told her about Donovan, whom she had only gone out with a couple of times. She was having her regrets when Maria walked into the office. When Charlotte turned around, the shelter volunteer was standing right in front of the desk, wearing a strange look on her face.

“Hello Maria, how was it?” Charlotte asked. She could tell that Maria definitely had something to tell her.

Maria remained standing very close to Charlotte. She placed the stamps on the corner of the desk and then looked back up. “I went to the post office,” she responded.

Charlotte smiled. She loved how dramatic the volunteer could be at times. “Yes, I remember where you were going. And you got stamps too, which is fabulous, Maria. Is that the reason for that goofy
look on your face? Are they special stamps?” She glanced over to the small roll that had been placed by the phone. They seemed to be the same U.S. flag variety that she was used to having.

“Did we get a discount?” Charlotte knew how Maria loved to use coupons and ask vendors for discounts.

“I do not wear this look about my face because of stamps.” Maria waited, allowing for the dramatic pause.

“Okay.” Charlotte played along.

She and Maria had been friends for almost three years. Maria was one of the first people she had met when she moved to Gallup, and Maria’s family had sort of adopted Charlotte since her arrival. Charlotte ate at least one meal a week with the Roybal family. She babysat Maria’s grandchildren from time to time and even attended Mass with them once or twice a month. Maria and her husband, Gilbert, were helping Charlotte with her language skills in Spanish.

“Well, are you going to tell me or do you want me to keep guessing?” Charlotte asked. “I’ve got work to do, Maria,” she added.

“I ran into Isabella Gomez while I was standing in line to buy the stamps.”

Charlotte thought that the name sounded familiar but she didn’t think she knew who Maria was talking about. She shrugged.

Maria sighed as if she thought Charlotte ought to know who Isabella was. “Isabella Gomez is married to Daniel Gomez, and his sister married Jimmie Lujan from Farmington,” Maria explained. “They sit in the fourth row at Mass every Sunday.”

“Isabella and Daniel, or Jimmie Lujan?”

Maria let out another sigh. “Isabella and Daniel.” She thought for a moment. “She stacks her hair really high and adds a bun extension to the top of her head.”

“A bun or a French twist?” Charlotte asked, thinking about the women’s hairstyles she had seen in the Catholic church.

“Bun,” Maria answered, growing impatient.

“Okay,” Charlotte said, nodding her head. “And this is important because?”

“This is important because Daniel’s sister’s husband, Jimmie Lujan, has a cousin who is married to Carla Fairhope.”

There was another pause. Charlotte shook her head, hoping Maria would soon get to her point.

“Yes, and?” Charlotte asked.

“And Carla Fairhope is really Carla Sanchez Fairhope.” Charlotte still was not following Maria’s line of conversation. She waited.

“Carla
Sanchez
Fairhope,” Maria repeated, very carefully sounding out the name.

“Carla Sanchez Fairhope,” Charlotte said. And then the name finally rang a bell. “Are you trying to tell me that she is somehow related to Donovan?”

Charlotte had told her friend about meeting the Gallup policeman and about their first date, and Maria had promised, without any urging or request from Charlotte, to find out everything she could about the New Mexico native.

“Oh, she’s more than just related.” She paused, wanting even more of a dramatic effect to what she was about to say.

Charlotte leaned in, waiting. “What, Maria?” she finally asked.

Maria glanced around to see if anyone was outside in the hall.

Charlotte followed her eyes. She whispered, “It’s just us. The women have all gone to job training at the community college, and the kids are in school.”

Maria nodded again, looking as if she wanted to be very careful with her news.

Charlotte shrugged, still waiting.

“She was his first wife.” Maria punctuated the end of the sentence with a loud bang on the desk, pounding her fist. And then she stood up straight and waited for Charlotte’s response.

Charlotte was surprised to hear this news, but it didn’t shock her as much as it apparently shocked Maria. She and Donovan had not spoken to each other about past relationships, so it wasn’t as if he had lied to her or kept anything from her. She knew that if they continued to see each other, this subject would certainly come up, but at this point, she hadn’t asked him a lot of personal questions.

“So, he’s divorced?” Charlotte asked, not showing nearly the amount of emotion that Maria was expecting.

“You are not upset?”

“He’s in his forties, Maria. It shouldn’t surprise you that a man his age has been married before.” She reached over to a folder and opened it. There were some forms she needed to fill out and get in the afternoon mail; that was part of the reason she had sent Maria to get stamps. As always in nonprofit work, a deadline was looming.

“You didn’t find out from him if he had ever been married?” Maria asked. She pulled up a chair and sat across from Charlotte, surprised to see that her friend wasn’t stunned about this important bit of news.

“No, Maria, I didn’t ask him if he had ever been married. We’ve only been out twice.” Charlotte looked back down at the form. It was from the state government, requesting the number of children served by St. Mary’s House in the last quarter and their ages, as well as other information about them. The women’s shelter received a certain
amount of money based on the clientele they served. These forms were always important to complete because the funds were a necessary part of their income.

Maria studied the young woman. She made a kind of humming noise.

Charlotte glanced up. “What?”

“There are things you should always ask right off the bat when you go out with a man.”

“Things?” Charlotte repeated.

“Things,” Maria answered, nodding.

“Besides having been married before, what other things?” Charlotte asked. This interested her.

“Any known children, medical and family history, religious preferences, mental illnesses …” She stopped to consider other issues. “And any bad debts,” she added.

“Wow,” Charlotte responded. “That’s a lot of information. Maybe I need to ask the state to make forms for my dates.” She held up the paper she was working on and shook her head; the entire dialogue she was having was starting to sound and feel very familiar. “You are as bad as Beatrice Witherspoon,” she commented, remembering the conversation she had just had with her former church member. “I’m not asking all of those questions on the first date. And besides, it doesn’t matter to me if he’s been married before,” she added.

Maria blew out a breath. “Your friend is right to worry about you.
Los hombres que te ocultan una cosa, te ocultaran muchas más.”

“Maria, you know how bad my Spanish is. I heard ‘men’ and ‘keep things.’ What are you saying?”

“All I’m saying is that you need to beware of Mr. Donovan Sanchez.”

Charlotte laughed. “Because he didn’t tell me he has been married?”

“Is he hiding anything else?” Maria asked, looking very suspicious.

“You mean like mental illness and bad debt?”

“You go ahead and make fun. These are things every woman should know about a man she sees socially.”

“Are you watching a lot of television these days?” Charlotte asked, thinking of Beatrice and all her crime movie talk.

“I watch
La Fea Más Bella
but I don’t see what that has to do with this conversation.”

“Well, maybe you watch too much
La Fea Más Bella”

“I still say if you have been married before, that information should come up during a date.”

“Maria, the first time we went out was just for coffee after I got a flat tire and he helped me change it. We were together for just one hour. We talked about our jobs, cars, the weather, football, and whether we prefer green or red chile. Then the next time, our first real date, we went to see a movie together, so we didn’t chat at all while we were in the theater, and after that we had ice cream and talked about what makes us laugh. We didn’t get into past relationships!”

“And?” Maria asked.

“And what?” Charlotte replied.

“And which does he prefer?” Maria still had her arms folded across her chest. She was not letting go of her suspicions.

Charlotte shook her head, not understanding the question.

“Green or red?” Maria asked, smiling.

Charlotte laughed. “Whichever is hottest,” she replied.

Maria nodded in approval. “Okay, so he got that one right,” she said. “Any real New Mexican knows that even though usually the red chile is hotter, you always ask the restaurant server because it isn’t a hard and fast rule. The temperature of the peppers has to do with the batch from which they come, not so much with the color.”

She straightened the folds in her dress, smoothing the wrinkles down with the palms of her hands. “I just think you need to check up on these men before you spend too much time together.”

“And why would I need to do that when I have such attentive women in my life who know so much about policemen and dating and divorces and can find out so much more information than I ever could?” Charlotte smiled at her friend.

“You make fun if you want to, but you just look around and remember where you are.” Maria clasped her hands in her lap. “I bet these girls would tell you that they wished they had asked more questions before they got involved with the men that put them here.”

The older woman seemed so concerned, so worried, Charlotte knew better than to make fun anymore of Maria and her worries. Maria had become a volunteer at the women’s shelter after her daughter was murdered by Maria’s son-in-law. It had been a terrible time for Maria and her family, and they still grieved her death. Maria’s concern for Charlotte and her other friends was real. She never wanted anyone to have to go through what her daughter and her grandchildren had been through. Domestic abuse was personal for Maria, and Charlotte understood this.

“I will talk to him about his former marriage the next time we go out,” Charlotte promised, wondering if Officer Sanchez would call
for another date, wondering if she would ever hear from him again.

Maria raised her eyebrows at her friend. “You want me to call Carla and ask for her side of the story?”

“No!
” Charlotte answered quickly. “I don’t want you to ask anybody about anything.” She looked closely at her friend. “Maria?” She waited. “You hear me? No meddling.”

Maria lifted her chin as if the mandate was offensive to her. “Okay, I promise. As long as you talk to him, I’ll not meddle.”

Charlotte stared, making sure her friend was telling her the truth. “Have you got your fingers crossed?”

Maria sighed and held out her hands in front of her, spreading her fingers. They had been crossed in her lap, and she rolled her eyes. Charlotte knew how Maria tried never to lie, but she often crossed her fingers as if that somehow made lying okay.

“I promise I will not call Carla Fairhope to ask her about her ex-husband.” And she smiled. She knew that with that promise she could ask her friend Isabella anything she wanted.

Charlotte smiled in return. She wasn’t duped. She knew all too well that Maria would find a way to learn everything there was to know about Donovan and his first marriage. She wouldn’t have to ask him a thing. Maria would let her know the full story by her next date, if there was one.

“Would you please now go and get the latest census information from the file in the other office? If we want to get paid, I need to make sure the state gets this form back by the end of the week.”

“I will be happy to do just that.” Maria got up from her chair and headed out of the office. She turned back to Charlotte. “I just worry about you, Charlotte Stewart. You don’t know the ways of men. I just want you to be safe.”

“I know, Maria. And I love you for that. I will be careful. I promise.” She winked. “My friends in North Carolina would be very glad to know I have such a devoted angel watching over me.”

“Oh, they already know that,” Maria said.

Charlotte seemed confused. “How would they know?” she asked.

Maria shrugged, looking innocent.

“Maria, how would they know that you watch over me?”

Maria smiled. “Why do you think Beatrice really phoned you this morning?” Maria asked.

Charlotte considered the question. “To ask about that funeral director she set me up with.” She thought again. “Wait a minute. How did you know Beatrice phoned me this morning?”