BLOGWORDS – Wednesday 7 May 2025 – WRITING WEDNESDAY – DOUBLE DOUBLE WHO’S IN TROUBLE – DINNER WITH MARLA and KEATON BAXTER

BLOGWORDS – Wednesday 7 May 2025 – WRITING WEDNESDAY – DOUBLE DOUBLE WHO’S IN TROUBLE – DINNER WITH MARLA and KEATON BAXTER

WRITING WEDNESDAY – DOUBLE DOUBLE WHO’S IN TROUBLE – DINNER WITH MARLA and KEATON BAXTER

 

* cover reveal Friday 4 July

 

 

DINNER with MARLA and KEATON BAXTER

     NOTE: There is a strong element of racial tension in this scene.

       The Brockton Hyde Country Club was an older building, ironically a former plantation home. With slaves. It had been modernized decades ago, and with the money floating around the place, was kept in tip-top shape.

      I drove up the curved brick drive and a valet came out to open Paige’s car door, then around to hop in the driver’s seat to park the car. I hadn’t thought about there being a valet; not something I had ever experienced in my modest life.

      I walked Paige up the steps and into a massive entry, or foyer, as Mere would correct me. A huge chandelier above, what I was sure was a very expensive Persian rug on the floor and also very expensive table with inlaid wood patterns and a very expensive porcelain vase with a huge flower arrangement.

      Paige directed me toward the private dining area, off from the main restaurant area; apparently her parents had their own private room.

      Of course Mr. and Mrs. Baxter were already there even though we were early; they were earlier.

      I held out my hand but Mr. Baxter just gave me the once over. I had never felt so small or dirty in my life.

      “Daddy.” Paige’s soft voice sounded almost warped from the tension in the room. “This is Jordan Jernigan.” She held my hand tight but stood up tall. All of her full five-foot-two-inch stature.

      “Let’s sit, shall we.” It wasn’t a question; Mrs. Baxter was no more open to meeting me than her husband. Or, truth be told, than I was to meet them.

      If I expected a menu I would have waited all evening. No, Mr. Baxter had ordered ahead of time, the same for all of us. Good thing I’m not allergic to shellfish.

      I declined the wine, though. Not because I didn’t drink, but because I didn’t want to drink with them. I don’t lose control like my brother. But I wanted my wits about me, without even the slightest [WC]. All Mr. Baxter said to me was, “You don’t drink, Boy?”

      While I tried to figure out how to answer, he turned back to Paige, trying yet again to sway her into coming to work at their law firm. Belittling her choice of being a nurse. Raking her over the coals for being so athletic and allowing some white trash boy to do what he did.

      Paige just sat stoically, taking it; it was nothing she hadn’t heard before. And as she told me later, no response was the best response.

      After an eternity, four waiters brought four bowls of she-crab soup. Which, as I said earlier, it’s a good thing I’m not allergic to shell fish. I may have discovered a new favorite dish. At least I have that to thank Mr. Baxter for. Well, that and Paige.

      The rest of the menu was as pretentious as you might guess—Caesar salad, filet mignon, baked potatoes, green beans almondine, and amaretto souffle for dessert.

      Mr. Baxter excused himself to go to some other room to have his after-dinner cigar and a glass of port.

      We couldn’t leave, of course, until he returned to the table. When he did, he didn’t sit but eased his wife’s chair out and she took his arm, and they left. No good-byes, no talk-to-you laters, and definitely no hugs.

      Paige took it all in stride—after all, she had grown up under these peoples’ roof—but  I was never so glad to leave a place—or people—than I was that night. It’s a close second—very close second—to leaving The Crew.

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

“I’ve always had voices—er, stories in my head. I once said I should write them all down so someone could write them someday. I had no idea at the time that someone was me!”

My stories are deep and dark, my characters raw and real, with a healthy helping of hope and joy, humor and laughter, and abiding and sustaining faith.

My characters struggle in some way for their identity. Their stories are their journey to know who God created them to be.

There is also a strong element of friends, family, and faith in all my stories, and the difference it makes to have such a support system.

 

 

• unsavory heritage series—seven generations, from Cissy to Connie, each with their own secrets, one of which is ugly and unsavory, and initiates the curse they all bear
• Seasons series—four friends, each one struggling to know the truth of just what happened when one of them plunged into the depths of the black waters of the Edisto River
• FourSquare – Four stories about four couples who also happen to be four sets of twins.

 

 

“Maybe you have to know the darkness to truly appreciate the light.”—Madeline L’Engle

 

“There is freedom waiting for you on the breezes of the sky. And you ask, What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?” —Erin Hanson

 

#Blogwords, Writing Wednesday, Robin E. Mason, Current Work in Progress, #WIP, Double Double Who’s in Trouble, FourSquare Series Book 2, Dinner with Marla and Keaton Baxter, #FourSquare, #twinfiction, #twinsmarryingtwins, #twinconflict, #fictionwriter, #battleforidentity, #cominginAugust, #amwriting, #amediting, #fictionwriting, #faithfiction