She nods up at me, and they ladies shake their heads.
“Stop it, you’ll make him blush.” Mindy Ray, Noel’s best friend and my former college buddy walks up, pulling me into a hug.
Mindy’s in jeans and a red sweater, and her long brown hair is in a low ponytail over one shoulder. She started her own marketing business and only works part-time here now, but she still pretty much runs the place.
Stepping back, she inspects me with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. “Gary Cooper… hmm… I can see it. You’re a little too cocky for Mr. Cooper.”
“I’m not cocky.”
She makes a pfft sound. “You most certainly are.”
“I miss all the good stuff now,” Ms. Irene sighs.
“Did you come to see Mindy?” Miss Jessica waggles her eyebrows at the two of us, and I take a seat beside her.
“I came to see you.”
“Oh, my land, I’ve waited for this.” She puts a hand on her chest. “Cowboy, take me away!”
Shaking my head, I take the letters out of my bag. “Noel found these in an old box at the feed shed. I asked her if I could bring them to you… I think one of them might be from my grandmother.”
Her thin brow wrinkles. “Who is your grandmother?”
“Well, she was Kimberly Allen.”
The old lady’s eyebrows shoot up, and she leans back. “Oh.”
Ms. Irene scoots closer. “Kim was your grandmother?”
I’m not sure what to make of this response. “Did you know her? This letter is addressed to Winona… something.” I hold out the missive. “The rest is worn away.”
Miss Jessica takes the envelopes, sliding her fingers over them as if they’re precious relics. “I didn’t know Kim very well. She was friends with my sister Winnie. She died… oh, about twenty years ago.”
“Winnie?” I had been leaning forward, resting my forearms on my knees, but that name draws me up straight. Winona… Winnie… Was my aunt named for this lady?
“It was just a nickname. Winona Fieldstone was her married name.”
I slowly lean forward once more, nodding at the letter. “We found that, and I thought you might want it.”
She turns it over in her hands. “I don’t know why I’d want an old letter. If it’s important to you, you can have it.” She gives it to me, and I pause, thinking.
“Miss Jessica, did something happen to my grandmother? Something I might not know about?”
Her weathered hand flutters to the neck of her smock. “I have no idea what you know. Anyway, I didn’t know her very well. Like I said.”
Mindy sits on the arm of my chair. “Sounds like you’re sitting on a good story. Spill it, Miss J.”
“Melinda Ray! I am not sitting on anything. Mind your business.”
Reaching out, I put my hand over hers gently. “It’s okay. After my father died, it seems like a lot of my family’s history was lost.”
“Swept under the rug is more like it.” Ms. Irene nods her head.
That gets my attention. It’s the exact thing I’m thinking. “Do you know about her?”
Her clouded eyes drift to the ceiling. “Your grandmother was a beautiful woman. Probably the prettiest girl in these parts until Penelope Harris.”
“That was Noel’s mom.” Mindy whispers into my shoulder. “She won every beauty pageant in the tri-county area.”
“What happened to her?”
“She was in love with two men, from what I remember. Isn’t that right, Jessica?” Ms. Irene looks in the direction of her friend, who’s still clutching her collar and looking worried. “Weren’t they best friends?”
“Good night, Irene, I was a child. I didn’t understand half of what everyone was talking about.”
That sounds familiar.
“Well, I did.” Ms. Irene nods at me. “Your grandmother married the rich one—who was your grandfather, I guess, since you have all the money.”
“Oh, yeah, Deacon’s loaded.” Mindy gives my shoulder a playful shove.
“But from what I understand, she never got over the other guy. What was his name?”
“Pablo.” Miss Jessica holds up a finger. “No… That wasn’t it. Marco… No… Juan.”
“Oh, sweet lord. I’d say she was getting dementia, but she’s always been that way with names.” Ms. Irene shakes her head. She leans forward and lowers her voice. “I never knew what his name was, but he was of the Mexican persuasion.”
Her lips press together and she nods.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Holy shit. “Are you saying my grandmother left my grandfather for another man? A Mexican man?”
“I don’t think she ever left him.” Ms. Irene’s blind eyes drift around my face. “I think she came here after things… went too far.”
“Went too far?” I look at Mindy, who’s looking at me with raised eyebrows. “Does that mean…”
“You know what it means!” Mindy stage-whispers. “Your grandmother was a ho.”
“Melinda Claire Ray!” Miss Jessica swats her with the remaining three envelopes. “Kimberly was a wonderful girl. She just got a little mixed up. It happens.”
Miss Jessica is an old maid, if I remember what Mindy told me. Still, I’m not interested in what she knows about love triangles. I’m wondering if this crazy story might be what has Angel’s brother so pissed at the Drings.
I take Miss Jessica’s hand again. “Do you have any idea where I could find out the other man’s name?”
“You have the letter.” She nods towards it. “I’m sorry that’s all I know.”
Looking down at the faded ink on paper, I wonder if I can wait the two-and-a-half-hour drive home to read it… Nope.
I’m not even sure I can wait to get to the parking lot.
“Thank you for telling me this.” I stand, sliding the envelope into my pocket.
Ms. Irene reaches for Mindy and slowly rises to her feet. She grasps my forearm. “I’m sorry if I upset you with that story.”
“You didn’t.” I lean down to hug her carefully. “You actually might have helped me.”
“Well, I hope so. I would never want to hurt anyone.”
“I’d better get on back, but I’ll be here for the festival.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Come see us, will you?”
Miss Jessica stands, holding my arm. “Don’t be too hard on your ancestors. They were human just like us.”
“As in everybody makes mistakes?” I give her a wink.
“Exactly.” Her tone reminds me of a school teacher, and we walk slowly to the exit. “Jesus said he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
“Don’t worry.” I give her a final hug. “I’m not planning to stone anybody.”
I’m trying to get certain people to put down their rocks.
“See you in a few weeks.” Mindy gives me a quick hug before guiding the ladies in the direction of the cafeteria.
I dash out to my car, hopping inside and whipping out the envelope. The paper is yellowed and fragile, and the words are faded and written in an ancient, swirling script. Still, they’re legible.