William's Tale (7 page)

“Can I bring you anything else?” the waitress asked as she looked at the sweater vest Jackie’s father wore.

Jackie looked over to her father's sweater. “Daddy, you forgot to wear your nametag.” It wasn’t exactly policy, but as a courtesy, Silver Estates asked the residents to wear them — not just for the staff, but for the residents who had trouble remembering who people were.

“His name is Herman. I’m his daughter, Jackie.”

“Welcome to Silver Estates,” the waitress smiled at them as she filled their water glasses. “If there is anything you need, please let me know.”

Jackie nodded as the woman walked away. It pleased her to have her father living in such a wonderful retirement home. The food looked healthy and plentiful. The menu today was pork chops, fresh apple slices, warm butternut squash soup, a healthy salad, and a variety of desserts.

After she took a bite, she knew the food wasn’t as good as her mama’s cooking, but pretty darn close. Within minutes, she noticed her father picking at his food. “Daddy, make sure to eat some of your salad. You need greens in your diet.”

Herman wrinkled his nose. “The salad dressing has soured.”

She reached over and picked up the bowl. “Now, don’t be like that.” She sniffed the food and set the salad back down. “Did you want ranch dressing? Because this is bleu cheese.”

He gave her a slight smile as he touched the side of his face. “I left my glasses upstairs.”

“Well, if you can’t read the signs of what is what, all you got to do is ask. This place has plenty of staff to help you.” She halfway stood up. “I’ll get you a fresh salad.”

Holding up his hand, he stopped her. “I’m not all that hungry anyway.” He looked past the dining area to the main office. “What did the manager say?”

“He has a crew in your apartment right now fixing your heater. Mr. Appleby seemed very apologetic Daddy. I’m sure he’ll have it fixed in no time.”

She noticed her father staring near the kitchen door. “Looks like they’re bringing out new desserts. Looks like cheesecake.”

Jackie sighed and felt saddened as her father left the table to fetch them some cheesecake. Cheesecake was her favorite, and her father knew it. The dessert was her mother’s favorite, as well. Mama would make her cheesecake from scratch, not with the cream cheese most recipes had these days. She would bake her cake for birthdays, Easter and Christmas — saying the dessert was too rich for everyday food. Her mother always held tight control over their diets when it came to rich, sugary foods, saying it wasn’t good to give children a sugar rush, and imply that her father didn’t need the excess. Her father remained somewhat slim as an older man, but his cholesterol and heart issues had always been a concern. Jackie decided to ignore the indulgence — at least for now as he settled into his new home. This wonderful retirement home was just minutes from her apartment, and she wanted him to get comfortable and consider it his home as soon as possible.

A heavy emotional weight settled over her. At the time, she felt fortunate to get her father into such a fine place as Silver Estates. With the waiting list, it usually took nearly a year to get in, but a sudden vacancy allowed her to secure her father a spot after only two weeks. Now, with the loss of her job, she worried if she’d be able to afford the place. Her father paid for most of the cost, but she had fudged the numbers to him so he wouldn’t suspect she financially helped him. She had researched retirement homes in the area. They were either all too expensive, too far away, or just terribly unpleasant places where she didn’t want her father to live out the rest of his life. Paying a little extra a month herself to secure something this nice was worth the personal cost. She only hoped she could still afford the place now.

He came back to the table and set two wedges of cheesecake down. He frowned as he took his seat. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothin’ you need to worry about.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he took a good look at her. “Is everything with your job all right?”

Biting her lip, she gave him a wry smile. “Yes, Daddy. It’s all good.”

He scratched his head and still studied her. “Is a man troubling you? Because if a man has broken your heart again…”

Jackie sighed, which caused him to pause mid–sentence.

“It
is
a man,” he accused.

She smiled back at her father. She hadn’t been on a date in months. She hadn’t…
been
with a man for even longer. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to share with him.

“Your mama always said baking was a way to share your soul with those you love.” He scooted one plate of cheesecake closer to her. “It’s not your mama’s, but it looks good.”

She smiled as she glanced at the cake. It was nice to hear him quote her mother, who always had nice sayings about life. Jackie cleared her throat and mentally chided herself. She didn’t want to fall apart in front of her father. She missed her mother terribly, but wanted to be strong for him.

So she thought about something else she wanted to share with her father. She doubted he had been watching the news lately since he seemed so busy with his move. In fact, she had wanted to tell him about the meeting with the President since the moment they had sat down at the table. She filled him in on the presidential things only, omitting she was subbing at the school and any ideas she may have had about the minority numbers being odd to her. What she didn’t skip was the part of how the gorgeous agent had selected her out of everyone to shake the President’s hand. She had been so surprised after he admitted to having selected her, but she didn’t have enough time to ask him about it since he had to leave and tend to the President.

Her father had smiled through the entire tale. “You must have caught his eye for him to give you such an honor as shaking the President’s hand.”

“Maybe so.” She didn’t go into detail, but did mention the agent was extremely handsome. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Herman beamed a smile back to her. “And he has a good, solid job working for the President.”

“An agent who allows racial inequality in his job, but I guess it’s still a solid job.” She regretted making the snide comment, and wished she had censored herself the second the sentence left her mouth.

Her father cleared his throat. “Now, don’t be like that.” When she stared into his eyes, she saw a stern look about him. “Do you remember a show you liked as a kid that was called Star Trek?”

Remember it? She loved the show as a kid. Of course, she liked the original series the best. “Lt. Uhura was always my favorite.”

“I know,” Herman said.

Jackie stared at her father. There were days he couldn’t remember what he had for lunch the day before, and there were times he could remember the most minute details. It was nice to have him fully here and in the moment. “What about the show?”

“Your mother didn’t like all the space stuff, but she and I both agreed it was a good show for you to watch. Do you want to know why?” When Jackie shook her head, Herman continued, “Because of the actress Nichelle Nichols who played Lt. Uhura. Back in the 1960s when she started in the show, her small and somewhat degrading part upset her. She almost quit until she met Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who told her she needed to be on the show. You see, that television show was based in the future, and he believed that a black face needed to be on the bridge to encourage the next generation of Americans to believe in equality.”

Jackie always enjoyed the show and had never heard the story before. Lt. Uhura was always a hero of sorts, to her and she now realized the load the actress must have had to endure to remain on film back in the days with segregation and other racial inequalities. Jackie looked at her father. “How do you know all this?”

“She did an interview way back in the day. Anyway, if this young man of yours is holding down a job that only a few decades ago wouldn’t have been open to him, then he’s paving the way for the next generation and the one after that. He’s doing more for equality than you can even imagine just by being in his position.”

Jackie smiled at the revelation. Her father had a good point. Even a few decades ago, she wouldn’t have been allowed to teach at her school since white children attended. Her purse hung from the chair and she retrieved the agent’s business card from it. “He did give me his card,” she said as she handed it proudly to her father.

His hand danced over the card as he turned it over. He gave the card back to her, but not before he could let out a disappointed sigh.

Jackie palmed the card. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought it’d be neat to see the presidential seal or Secret Service stamp.”

Jackie studied the plain white card and a frown crossed her face as she realized her father was right. This wasn’t an official government card with the Secret Service or FBI emblem on it. This was the man’s personal business card having only his name and phone number. She had seen plenty of cards like this in the past, and they were always given out by men who only wanted one thing from a woman.

Good Lord. He had played her.

When he had given her the card, she had hoped he might be able to help her with her petition for the school funding — and maybe a whole lot more on a personal level. Now, looking at the man’s information, she read between the lines. He was a user of women. He had this card at the ready to give to any cute woman he came across, and probably handed out several a day. She tossed the card into her purse and then picked up her fork, diving into the cheesecake. She’d be damned if she were going to be William Wardell’s next conquest.

Jackie sat nervously on the brown overstuffed chair in the corner of Starbucks. She knew the place well since it was so near to her old school, even with her strict discipline of only enjoying one purchased coffee a week. She waited for Principal Bob Monroe to show up.

Why did the man want to meet with her? And why now? The last time she had seen the man, he had laid her off. The fault of her job loss didn’t rest on Bob’s shoulders, but she did, sort–of, want to shoot the messenger. Taking a deep breath and blowing through the small slit in the lid of her coffee cup, she focused her attention on her hot cup of coffee.

She didn't have to wait long. Bob entered the shop, waived to her, and then ordered himself a hot beverage. Once he had his coffee in hand, he took a seat next to her.

As she waited for him to talk, it occurred to her that perhaps her petition had caused trouble for the school, or had threatened Bob’s job. She certainly hoped Bob was strong enough to stand his ground and demand the changes that were desperately needed. Bob was a good family man with four kids, and she hoped his position wasn’t in jeopardy; he needed his job.

Well, she needed a job, too. She sighed slightly. Whatever he needed to tell her must be important since he had asked for her to meet with him right away. It wasn’t as though she was busy. Other than the subbing job from last week, she had nothing financial lined up on the horizon. She didn’t even want to get her hopes up that he brought her here for good news.

Bob placed his coffee cup on the small table as he sat across from her. “I’m so glad you could meet with me, Jackie,” he smiled over to her. “How have you been?”

His smile defused her worry, and for a moment it felt like old times. She shared with him her recent trip to California, the breakup with Steve, and her father’s move into a nursing home. Overall, having an old friend to talk with felt nice.

“My goodness,” she chuckled. “Just listen to me talk. I haven’t even asked about your wife and kids.”

“She’s fine,” he replied. “The kids are the same. School work, track, and basketball. Our lives are filled with carpools.”

“You know what they say. It takes a village to raise a kid.”

“That’s right.” Bob sat straighter in his seat and cleared his throat. “An anonymous donation has been made to the school,” he announced. “Which is why I asked for you to meet with me.”

Jackie sipped her coffee and then set the hot cup down on the table. “A monetary donation, I’m guessing.”

“Yes. And, before you ask, I don’t know who the benefactor is, just that a sizable amount was donated.”

Her jaw tightened as she eyed him. “I do love a good mystery. Go on.”

“The funding is already in place. There are some stipulations for tapping into the funds, though. One is that we bring back one of our cut programs, the other is that we bring you back as a teacher within that program.”

“Me?” she stammered. “Why would this benefactor want me?”

Bob shook his head. “No explanation was given.”

No explanation? Damn, that meant the donator probably knew her. Who could it be? Was it her ex-boyfriend Steve? As a pension fund baby, he had some dispensable money. She didn’t like the idea of being in debt to the sleaze, but it was a job — of sorts. A job worth looking into. “What program would be brought back?”

“Music and Art.”

Music, chorus, and anything liberal arts related had been cut across the school district. Her face whitened. She couldn’t draw a straight line or carry a tune, and had no clue how to play a musical instrument, but she needed a job. “What would I be expected to do?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her seat.