Author’s Notes
Chapter One
Genealogy: the piecing together the puzzle of ancestors. Or completely reinventing them, if necessary.
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Kate Thornton felt her face turn as red as the wallet that wasn’t in her tote bag. Digging through the contents, she dumped her address book, two lipsticks, and a hair-brush on the counter, displacing the fried pork rinds and Copenhagen snuff. Her cell-phone chirped as she added it to the pile. “I’m so sorry. It’s got to be here somewhere.” She continued to burrow through the detritus in the bottom of the bag. “Blast, it has to be here. My wallet, I mean.”
The faded, shingle-sided convenience store just off Interstate 16 had a reputation for the best pulled-pork barbecue in Georgia. Kate never stopped without seeing a long line of locals as well as tourists, in route to the Georgia coast, waiting for the spicy pork sandwiches. Just standing there, Kate inhaled the sharp-sweet smell of the vinegar –based barbecue sauce.
The teenaged clerk behind the counter heaved a loud eye-rolling sigh and drummed his fingers on the chipped formica surface as he glared at her.
The customers behind Kate shuffled in line, clutching their own purchases.
The clerk looked past her to the next person, another teenager, this one in a Bone Pony concert t-shirt.
The young man grunted past Kate and put a six-pack of Coke on the counter. “Got ten dollars on pump three. Gimme two of them barbecues, and a pack of Marlboros.”
The clerk rang up the order, then looked at the youth, then the other customers. “No cigarettes without ID, Mac. Sixteen dollars and forty-five cents.”
The red-faced youth slid the money across the counter, gathered his food, then turned and pushed past the next customer.
That person, a narrow-faced woman, hair pulled back into a red scrunchy, looked over at Kate. “Didja find your money? How ‘bout some plastic?” Clearly a tourist, given her New Jersey accent.
Kate hadn’t been this embarrassed since the time her hem caught in the piano stool and she dragged it across the recital stage. “I’m sorry. My credit cards are in my wallet. But I must have some money here somewhere. Sorry.” She continued to sort through the different little pockets in her tote bag.
The New Jersey customer reached over Kate’s pile of purse filler to pay the clerk and then left the store. “Good luck, honey.”
Kate nodded, certain her face was redder than her hair. The cell-phone chirped again, and she grabbed it. “My mad money! My mad money!” She pulled a twenty-dollar bill from the side pocket of her phone-case and waved it in the direction of the clerk. “I found a twenty!”
He reached over the counter and snagged it. “Well, that covers your gas. That will be another $6.43 to cover the barbecues and the sweet tea.”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Yeah, the barbecue I already took a bite from. Blast. “Listen, if I call my cousin, can she give you her credit-card number on the phone?”
The clerk shook his head. “Nah, sorry. Can’t do that.”
Kate thrust her hands into her khaki pockets and shrugged. “Well, can I mail you the money? I mean, I already ate some of the sandwich. I’ll be at my parents’ house in two hours and--- hey.” Her fingers curled around a folded bill, tucked deep in the right-hand pocket. She pulled it out and unfolded a five. “Here. Now I owe a dollar and forty-three cents.”
“Here.” A tall man about her age pushed his way from the back of the line. He laid a dollar bill and two quarters on the counter. “Let me help.”
Kate felt her face burn even more. “I’m so sorry. I can’t take your money. It’s just that I lost my wallet and---“ Her gut tangled in knots, threatening to expel her barbecue. I can’t go through this again. I am out of that business. Period. Well, he doesn’t look like the kind of man to knee-cap a woman.
“I heard the story.” His smile removed any sting from his words, even though he talked with his teeth slightly gritted, like that Main Line attorney she had done research for. “Could happen to anyone. I don’t believe you’re running any kind of grift. ”
“Well, thank you. If you give me your name and address, I’ll send you the money.”
“Don’t worry about it. The postage would be more than money. Have a nice day.” He smiled, turned back to the counter, and slid money for his purchases to the clerk.
Kate took her sandwiches and tea and wandered out to the picnic tables under the oak trees in the parking lot. Occasional streaks of sunshine snuck through the dark cloud band to the west and reflected off of the small pond. A frothy spill of lavender wisteria tumbled over the rotted fence separating the highway from the pond. Kate loved the waterfall flow of the purple blossoms despite the stern words of her mama and Aunt Sister, co-presidents of the Oak Harbor Garden Club for the previous twenty years. Chinese wisteria is a non-native invasive species that needs to be destroyed not propagated. Where was her wallet? She jumped up and went to her rental car, ran her hand under the seat, between the console, behind the cushions. Nothing. Shoulders slumped, she returned to the table and finished her lunch.
“Mind if I join you?” Green eyes stared down from her rescuer, that nice smile still there.
Kate jerked from her reverie. “Oh, sure, please. I guess I never really introduced myself. Kate Thornton.” Why was he following her? Maybe he was just being nice. But Trax Bragg seemed nice, too. At first.
“Ash Hampton.” He shook her hand before opening the foil wrap to his barbecue sandwich. “These smelled so good, I had to follow your example and get one. So are you from around here?” His eyes closed as he savored the taste of the pulled pork. “Absolutely wonderful.”
Kate felt her shoulders relaxing. “ Oak Harbour. Small town about twenty miles from Savannah. Actually, I live in New Jersey, but most of my family is still in Oak Harbour. We’re visiting. I had some business over near Union Point. In fact, I bet that’s where I left my wallet. You?” Her phone chirped again. “Sorry.” She tucked that loose strand of hair behind her ear again and glanced at the phone display.
He looked down at the cell, a smile revealing even white teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. “Go ahead and answer it. Someone seems determined to reach you.”
“Probably just the family. I’m running a little bit later than planned. Had to stop and see a new client. Really sweet old man.” She mashed her code to the voicemail system and listened to the mechanical androgenous voice announce four messages.
First Message. 1:21pm. 912-369-7649 Ms Thornton, I have something important for you. And I need to talk to you. Kate recognized the voice of the elderly client she had left two hours before.
Second Message. 1:58pm. 315-266-4419 We’ve got a job. Civil War this time. Her cousin and business partner, Joanna.
Third Message 2:10pm. 201-555-0011 Hey Momser, what’s taking so long? We caught crabs for dinner. Her son, Alex.
Fourth Message. 2:15pm. 912-369-7649 Miss Thornton, we need to talk about this. It’s important that we talk. Kate recognized her client’s voice. Talk about what? Talk about what? The project. Oh, blast, he wants to cancel the project, and she didn’t get a signed contract or a retainer or anything. She needed that project. She needed the money the project would bring. Genealogists didn’t make a lot of money, and with the current economy, projects were few and far between. Please don’t cancel the contract!
“Excuse me just a minute more.” She gestured to Ash, then pushed redial.
The call went straight to voicemail. She pushed that strand of hair behind her ear again, counted to ten and pushed redial once more. Straight to voicemail.
Blast, he’s going to cancel the contract. She needed that contract, she was down to her last three hundred dollars in the bank.
“I’ve got to go!” Kate bolted from the table, dumped her trash in the receptacle and jumped into her car.
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