Novel Excerpts–The Boaz Stenographer, Chapter 43

The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.

The Boaz Stenographer, written in 2018, is my fourth novel. I'll post a chapter a day over the next few weeks.

Book Blurb

Walt Shepherd, a 35 year veteran of the White House’s stenographic team, is fired by President Andrew Kane for refusing to lie.

Walt returns to his hometown of Boaz, Alabama and renews his relationship with Regina Gillan, his high school sweetheart, who he had ditched right before graduation to marry the daughter of a prominent local businessman.  Regina has recently moved back to Boaz after forty years in Chicago working at the Tribune.  She is now editor of the Sand Mountain Reporter, a local newspaper.

Walt and Regina’s relationship transforms into a once in life love at the same time they are being immersed in a growing local and national divide between Democrats and traditional Republicans, and extremist Republicans (known as Kanites) who are becoming more dogmatic about the revolution that began during President Kanes campaign.

Walt accepts two part-time jobs.  One as a stenography instructor at Snead State Community College in Boaz, and one as an itinerant stenographer with Rains & Associates out of Birmingham.

Walt later learns the owner of Rains & Associates  is also one of five men who created the Constitution Foundation and is involved in a sinister plot to destroy President Kane, but is using an unorthodox method to achieve its objective.  The Foundation is doing everything it can to prevent President Kane from being reelected in 2020, and is scheming to initiate a civil war that will hopefully restore allegiance to the U.S. Constitution.

While Walt is writing a book, The Coming Civil War, he is, unwittingly, gathering key information for the Constitution Foundation.

Will Walt discover a connection between the Foundation  and the deaths of three U.S. Congressmen in time to save his relationship with Regina, prevent President Kane from being reelected as the defacto head of a Christian theocracy, and the eruption of a civil war that could destroy the Nation ?

Chapter 43

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the pool.  Other than the time Regina and I went on our midnight skinny-dipping venture in the waters of my grandfather’s spring, we had never been in the water together.  Assuming, you didn’t count the seven times over the past few weeks that we had slipped into the shower together.  By 6:30 p.m., we were both exhausted from diving for quarters in the deep end of the pool.  We went up to our room, shared an eighth shower, dressed, and found a romantic little bistro on Canal Street that served the best scallops in the world.  At least, that’s what the menu said.  Neither Regina or I had ever eaten them.

It was now Tuesday morning.  We both spent the last two hours stretched out in two lounging chairs, each with a novel, and a tall cup of coffee.  Today, according to Regina, is dedicated to finding an antique bedroom suite.  She has refused to listen to all my arguments against buying furniture so far from home, and for either looking at the many antique stores in and around Boaz or simply forsaking the idea and continuing to use the still-strong suit my ex-father-in-law gave Jennifer and me when we were living in Charlottesville, Virginia.  Regina countered my argument with, “this bed is too tempting for you to think of all the wild and crazy times you and the tall sexy Jennifer had.”  I have reminded her that Jennifer wasn’t that tall.

Before we left the hotel, we found a few prospective stores on Google.  First, we drove to Southern Pickers on South Main Street.  This older man and much younger woman team were nice enough but all they had was one 19th century bedroom suite.  It was mahogany.  For a reason unknown to me, Regina had her mind set on walnut, and hopefully, early 19th century, preferably late 18th century.  What the couple lacked in furniture, they made up in local knowledge.  As we were leaving, the woman, Claire, said, “You might check with Kim Carey over at Carey Antiques & Furniture.  She is Wilma Carrington’s niece.  Wilma and Carl, her husband, have an old plantation home out on Horseshoe Loop in the Paradise Public Fishing Area.  It is completely furnished with the type of furniture you are looking for.”  We thanked Claire for the lead, wrote down the address for Carey’s place and decided to walk.  Before we had left the hotel, we had indulged ourselves with the grand continental breakfast.  Of course, Regina had pancakes, two stacks, and I ate three biscuits smothered in sausage-gravy.  It was only a couple of blocks.

Kim Carey and Lenna Tucker were sisters-in-law.  They had introduced themselves the moment we walked in.  We told them what we were looking for and that Claire from Southern Pickers had referred us.  At first, Kim seemed reluctant to even talk about her aunt and uncle, saying their health wasn’t good and they rarely entertained, as she put it.  Regina pulled Lenna away to show her an Armoire over in front of the far windows alongside a row of roll-top desks.  I told Kim I would pay her $200.00 if she would introduce us to her relatives.  I shared how dead-set Regina was and how I didn’t want to spend the next three days wandering around looking for old furniture.  She countered with $300.00 and I reluctantly parted with most of the money I had earned yesterday. Thirty minutes later we were back in my truck headed east to Carrington Place, a real 19th century plantation that, according to Lenna, Carl’s great-grandfather had purchased in the early 1840’s and developed into one of the largest cotton-producing operations in South Georgia, all with the help of nearly 200 slaves.  Kim had drawn us a map.  It took nearly 45 minutes, including the time it took to drive halfway around Lake Patrick after I missed the right-hand turn onto Horseshoe Loop.

Wilma and Carl were not anything like I had imagined.  They both looked healthy as a horse and much younger than Kim had described.  I had to admit that when I was much younger, say in my 20’s and 30’s, fifty-five and sixty-year-old folks looked ancient.  For the next hour we toured the two-story home that exactly mirrored my idea of what a Southern Plantation home would be.  It had six huge white columns across the two-story front.  The only difference was this giant of a home was brick, white-washed brick.  I had assumed that it would have been clapper-board-sided.  During our tour, we inspected four large bedrooms upstairs, all exquisitely furnished.  All were built of either cherry, maple, or oak wood.  When Regina re-emphasized, she was looking for walnut, Wilma said, “I heard you the first time dear.  I was saving that for last.  Mine and Carl’s bedroom suite on the first floor will, no doubt, be what you want.”

“I know you wouldn’t sell that.”  Regina responded.

“I would.  For the right price.  Anyway, Carl and I are moving to Destin, Florida this Fall, and my son and his wife are taking over the plantation.”

After we listened to Carl and Wilma explain their reasoning for the big life change they had planned, she lead us downstairs.  The first moment Regina walked through the door and saw walnut wood everywhere, I knew my pocketbook was in deep trouble.  Wilma immediately spouted out, in detail, the inventory that was before us: “we have a Chippendale Walnut Pennsylvania Chest (circa 1780), an early 19th century Chippendale Walnut chest of drawers, an early 19th century Federal inlaid walnut desk & bookcase. My favorite is the desk, it has two inlaid doors opening to a fitted interior with walnut dividers, with long drawers with original brasses flanked by inlaid quarter columns and straight bracket feet.  The bed is an American four-poster with spare, understated lines that characterize 19th-century early American furnishings.  It was crafted of walnut and featured gracefully turned corner posts, an upholstered camelback headboard and ball feet.”

An hour and a half later, Regina and I were driving back to the Hilton Garden Inn.  The two women had negotiated the transaction.  I would pay $8,000 to Wilma, certified funds only, or cash.  Carl would secure the help needed to load the furniture on to a 14-foot U-Haul trailer that we would bring with us Thursday at 3:30 p.m.  Wilma insisted that I write her a $5,000 check as a deposit, promising to exchange it for my larger cashier’s check on Thursday.  “Young man, this gives you the motivation to rent that trailer.”  Wilma said as we walked down the brick steps off the grand and glorious front porch.

When we returned to our room I lay across the king-sized bed and asked Regina, “do you think we could move mine and Jennifer’s bed downstairs in the guest room.  I hate to part with it.  I feel it will be a valuable antique someday.”  She just looked at me and said, “I don’t mind at all.  You know your new bed is much smaller.  It will only be comfortable for one person.  You can sleep with Jennifer downstairs and I’ll sleep upstairs on the four-poster.  No, I don’t mind at all.” It took me an hour to lure Regina away from her novel. 

“Seriously dear, I do love your talent for spotting beautiful furniture.  I’m glad I brought you along.”

“Walt, I love the furniture too, but what I love most was what we did today is all about us, me and you, our lives as one.  This thrills my heart.”

“I love you Regina.” I said pulling her on top of me, clothes and all.  This activity, and a host of others, all without our clothes, consumed the remaining hours of a perfect July day in South Georgia.

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 Help a starving artist.