Chapter Two
A quick ride on her Vespa brought her to the rec centre and her small but devoted class. Dora and Colby were on the front row, as usual, along with Bernice, the town librarian. Beth, Hippie Chic’s owner and stylist extraordinaire, and her teenage daughter, Monica, made up the back row.
“Hi, guys. Happy Friday!” Carmen said in greeting while tying the coin sash around her waist. “Where’s Deb? Is she okay?” She kicked off her shoes and placed them against the wall.
“Here I am!” Deb burst through the door. “And oh my gosh, you all! Have I got news or what!” Deb’s curly carrot-red hair trembled with nervous energy. “Marcus and I were at Tie-Dyed and Gone to Heaven, unloading a new shipment of incense and essential oils, and we overheard some folks from out of town. They referred to themselves as the Morgan Group, and they were having a very, very interesting conversation.” Deb arched her pencilled brows.
“Out with it, Deb.” Bernice rolled her eyes.
“Well,” Deb continued, “Marcus and I heard them say that the new development planned by the Morgan Group for the Prescott Woods was going to be the most luxurious and modern one outside of Lexington. Homes are going to sell in the low to mid millions, and, get this…” Deb paused for effect. “They’re going to put a nine-foot-tall brick wall around the entire Prescott Woods. Can you even imagine what a thing like that would cost?”
“I don’t believe it,” Colby stated. She shook her head and her platinum blonde hair rippled down her back. “Calvin Prescott would never sell his family’s land for development! It’s been in the Prescott family for six generations.”
Deb huffed. “I’m just telling you what I heard, Colby. Besides, that man has no children. Who’s he going to leave all that land to?”
“I certainly hope it’s not true,” Dora clucked. “That would mean huge changes for Charade. I don’t want a bunch of rich city people moving in. I like our little town just the way it is.” She took a sad breath and her ample bosom heaved.
“Ladies, it’s time for class,” Carmen interrupted. “We’re not going to learn anything about this in the next hour, but we can get a great class in. Are you ready?”
Carmen turned on the stereo and led the class through a series of hip drops, shimmies, and kicks. As always, the Middle Eastern music soothed her, but worries bubbled beneath her surface. Were her beautiful woods—well, Calvin Prescott’s beautiful woods—going to be cut off from her view by a tall brick wall? Would a passel of the very people she’d left behind in Chicago move into her transplanted hometown? Would they overrun mellow, stuck-in-the-sixties Charade with fancy gourmet food stores and interior design shops? Would the sweet, simple life she enjoyed be uprooted by a lucrative real estate deal?
Not if she had anything to say about it, Carmen decided. She concentrated on her moves, stepping and bending to the music. As usual, she felt a lusciously erotic stirring while she danced. Her bared physique wasn’t fashion-model skinny, but belly dancing emphasized the tactile desirability of authentic, healthy curves and exposed skin. At first, Carmen had been embarrassed to feel aroused while she danced, but now she welcomed the sexual energy that sparked through her while dancing. Feeling a sweet, hot slickness grow between her lower lips, Carmen knew that she’d have to finish herself off with some personal attention as soon as she got home. Her nipples stiffened in anticipation. Belly dancing made her feel sexy, nimble and desirable, never mind that she was a single thirty-something woman who raised chickens.
While gyrating her hips to the seductive soundtrack, Carmen glanced up at the window. That same grey tomcat was sitting on the windowsill outside, staring in as though it saw a roomful of flightless birds. It licked its chops. Carmen rolled her eyes and looked away with a smile. Maybe I’ll get my new mouser after all, she thought, amused, or, at the very least, a devoted belly-dancing fan.
The class wrapped up, but her six students remained in the room. Monica giggled with excitement and Beth hushed her. “What’s going on?” Carmen asked.
Bernice pulled a gold-wrapped box from her tote bag. “This is for you, dear,” she said, handing it to Carmen. “We all chipped in. Happy birthday!”
Carmen took the box and blushed with pleasure. She had completely forgotten that today was her birthday. And it wasn’t just any birthday—it was her fortieth. “Thank you all so much,” she whispered, choked by gratitude.
“Well, open it!” Monica urged. She bounced on her toes and squealed.
Carmen slipped the ribbon off and opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous confection of bronze silk chiffon and beads.
“It’s Turkish!” Monica exclaimed. “Isn’t it fabulous?”
Carmen lifted the beaded bikini top from the box and shook it. Long strands of golden coins and beads shook like drops of metallic water from the bronze sequined bra top. “It’s so beautiful, guys.” Carmen smiled. She passed the top to Dora and held up the matching beaded belt and skirt. “I can’t wait to wear it when we perform together for the Fourth of July. This is too much, really. You are so generous, every one of you.”
Beth, Monica, Deb and Bernice hugged Carmen then gathered their things.
“I’ll let you know if we hear anything about the Prescott place,” Deb promised as they departed.
Dora and Colby hung back after the others left. “Let us take you out tonight, Carmen,” Dora offered. “We’ll drink some beer and throw some darts at the Mine Shaft. What do you say? A girl doesn’t turn forty every day, you know.” Dora covered her voluptuous figure with a fringed floral shawl.
“We’ll pick you up at nine, okay?” Colby confirmed. “It’ll be fun, Carmen. I’ve arranged a cab from Aldridge, so we don’t have to worry about driving.” She gave Carmen a knowing wink.
“Suh-weet!” Dora crowed with excitement. Her heavy breasts jiggled with merriment. “We’ll catch a buzz, okay, Carmen? See you at nine!”
* * * *
That evening Carmen had a simple meal of a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. She took her dinner outside to eat with the chickens. They pecked in front of the dense, mysterious backdrop of Prescott Woods. Carmen chewed thoughtfully as she watched ruddy Suellen chase fluffy, multi-hued Scarlett and Melanie around the yard. Surely Calvin Prescott wouldn’t sell off the woods, Carmen thought, when it’s been so important to his family and to Charade.
That huge old stone mansion built by Calvin’s great-great-great-grandfather was the most historically and architecturally impressive structure in eastern Kentucky, if rumors could be believed. Calvin Prescott, a noted recluse, refused to allow visitors to his home. The limestone mansion stood half a mile from the road and was veiled by trees, but glimpses of it were impressive nonetheless. A tall wrought iron gate surrounded the mansion and lawn, and the two-hundred-acre forest stretched beyond it.
Carmen finished her meal and gathered her chickens into their coop. They roosted promptly at sundown, so it was best to have them all tucked in before it grew dark. Spare Tire helped her round up the girls then strutted in behind them. She gave the latch an extra tug to make sure it was firmly fastened before going inside to get dressed for her birthday outing. She chose a snug pair of her favorite jeans, a black silk tank top, her dressiest pair of cowboy boots and a chunky handmade agate necklace.
* * * *
At eleven, Dora was bringing around the third pitcher of draught beer at the Mine Shaft. Colby had declared herself Dart Queen Extraordinaire and was loudly challenging everyone in the bar to a match. Vonda Richardson, Charade’s real estate agent, was quick to rise to the challenge. Carmen giggled to see dainty Colby—her ear smudged with brick-red paint from her current artistic project—talking smack about her skill at darts.
“Hey, girls!” Deb appeared by their table, radiant in a turquoise tie-dyed tunic and frayed denim miniskirt. “Mind if I join you for a minute or two? Marcus just put quarters on the pool table, so we’re up next. Are you having a fun fortieth, Carmen?”
“Indeed I am.” Carmen beamed. She hopped from her stool and gave Deb an enormous hug. “Thank you so much for my present, Deb!” she gushed. “And thank you so much for being in my class. I love belly dancing with you guys!” Carmen bounced with beer-fueled enthusiasm, causing her enormous gold hoops to flop against her neck.
“You are just so welcome,” replied Deb. “We love having you in Charade. I bet there’s no other small town in Eastern Kentucky that can say they’ve got a lawyer, belly-dancing teacher, and veggie co-op owner-slash-employee all in one cute little package.”
Carmen gave a self-deprecating shrug and rolled her eyes upward. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s no place in the world as wonderful as Charade.”
Dora poured a glass of beer for Deb from the pitcher and pulled the seat out for her. “So, did you hear anything else about the Prescott land thing?”
“Oh, God, don’t get me started,” Deb groaned. She downed half of her glass in two big gulps. “It looks like it’s going down, girls. Marcus said that while I was at belly-dancing class, a guy in a suit came in and asked where Calvin Prescott lived. Marcus gave him directions, and told him that historically, Mr Prescott did not appreciate visitors.” She cleared her throat and tossed back the rest of her beer. “Suit tells him that he’s sure Mr Prescott will welcome his visit, since he’s about to purchase a great deal of his land and make Mr Prescott a very, very wealthy man.”
“Puh-leeze!” Carmen interjected. “He’s already a very rich man! Good grief.” She poured another glass of beer for Deb and topped off her own glass.
Deb twisted her mouth to the side. “Who knows, Carmen,” she said. “Nobody goes up there, and nobody knows what old Calvin’s financial situation is. He certainly doesn’t bank around here, that’s for sure. Marcus’s friend Tom is the manager of First Trust in Aldridge, where ’most everybody around here does their banking, and he’s already asked about the Prescott money. Tom said that there’s no Prescott money at First Trust, so who knows how much Calvin’s got squirreled away.”
“Huh,” Dora mused. “Maybe he’s house poor after all, living in that big old mansion. There’s got to be a lot of upkeep to that thing.”
“Well, he still doesn’t have any right to change the whole flavor of Charade, damn it,” Carmen complained.
Deb lifted her hands in resignation. “Well, it is his land after all, so I guess we have to like it or lump it.” She waved over Carmen’s shoulder and stood with her half-full glass. “Thanks for the beer, girls, and happy birthday, Carmen. I wouldn’t worry too much about the Prescott land if I were you. Charade’s been around for a long time, and it’s not going anywhere.”
* * * *
Two pitchers later, Dora and Colby were singing an off-key but enthusiastic version of Happy Birthday to Carmen in a black-and-white Aldridge City Cab. The driver pulled in front of Carmen’s house and waited for the ladies to hug their goodnights and for Carmen to exit. While Carmen fumbled for her keys, she heard Dora and Colby resume their singing as the cab eased down her driveway.