The Penta Millionaire

By Gail Longino

Baby did not want to go with Whip, but she was afraid to refuse. She had borne the brunt of his temper, and she knew he just as soon hit her as look at her. Oh, well. OK. I guess I can, she said. She hoped Cecil would take up for her and send Whip off on his own. That didnt happen. She decided she would buy a blow pop at the Quik Stop when they got to Main Street.
Whip spit in the yard as they left it; this time he had a real gun with him.
Baby was quiet all the way to town. She said, Whatcha gonna do now?
What difference does it make? You wouldnt understand if I told ya. You not only the dumbest girl in town, you the ugliest too.
Baby was used to abuse; she thought it was normal. She knew she could not argue with Whip or she would get even worse treatment. So why did you want me to go along with ya tonight?
Im teaching ya how to stand up for yaself. No one else will. Youre hopeless! Whip sneered. When they got to the Quik Stop, she went in and bought her sucker. He got a beer and drank it while they walked toward Ms. Greys house. It was dark, and when they got there, they eased around to the back of the house. No lights were on, and no cars were parked on the street.
This is gonna be easy. Well wait and see when she comes home, and then when she goes inside, well get her. Whip knew Thursday night she always went out around seven and came home around nine thirty.
How we gonna do that? We cant just go in and get her, Baby said.
Whip pulled out the key from his pocket. Jus like this, he said.
Baby didnt want to harm Ms. Grey. No, I wont help you, she said and ran as fast as she could around the corner of the house.
He hunkered down behind the bushes and sipped on his beer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493198818

Gail Longino

After listening to her mother Gail Longino express her desire to write fiction her entire life, Beth Robinson said, “It’s now or never, Mom. In November sign up for NANOWRIMO and write 50,000 words on your novel in one month.” Gail followed her daughter’s advice and to Gail’s surprise, she was a winner in 2013 and published her first book The Penta Millionaire that year. In 2014, she repeated the success with her second book, The Self-Actualized Baby. She is now writing a third book The Unamished. All of the heroines of these novels live in a small town in Mississippi. Oakwood has a population of just over three thousand. Evelyn Grey Smithe lives in the center of town on the prestigious Governor Street, Willow Wilton lives two miles north of town with a large family of brothers, and Gretchen Oatley lives two miles south of town on the organic farm she and her husband John run with the help of their four children and a few field hands. Willow’s brothers, with their freewheeling lifestyles, create havoc on these three women. An unlikely friendship bonds these women together as they face the challenges the Wilton brothers create. When Gail is not writing, she is visiting the families of her four children, watching Netflix series, playing the piano, dabbling in art projects, and Skyping with Emma Hsu in Taiwan. Gail has lived in Vermont, Salzburg, and Vienna. She is a fifth generation Mississippian and now lives in Houston.

Book preview

Chapter One

Second Thursday in May

Oakwood, Mississippi

E velyn Jane Grey was nearing the end of a forty-year career as a history, geography, and social studies teacher at Oakwood High School. Her prospects of marrying the man of her dreams had almost expired. She did have one in mind though. Sid Smithe worked alongside her as the principal of the school and was a childhood friend.

She led a frugal life of discipline, order, and predictability. She knew history and geography better than most university professors and read historic novels for fun. Her work ethic in the classroom was rewarded, and for ten years she was voted Teacher of the Year.

Evelyn was the only child of a wealthy family. She lived in her childhood home in Oakwood, Mississippi. More money was not her aim in life, and in fact, she felt that money drew disaster with it. The love of money is a source of all kinds of evil (1 Timothy 6:10). She played down her own wealth and secretly gave away substantial sums to church and charity.

She was a romantic full of passion hidden under classic styles and beige colors. She was as tall as a fashion model and still wore the same size clothes she wore in college. Every six weeks, her trips to the Total Woman on Main Street renewed the shoulder-length blond hair and the only touch of glamour in her life, a manicure and pedicure in a bright color.

She loved deep and meaningful conversation but was disappointed by small talk. It was not often that a quiet person came into her life and would talk about ideas rather than events. Watching a romantic movie at home was her favorite activity.

She knew that she must be wise about danger in the world. It was real, and she had to stay vigilant and cautious and ready to defend herself. She carried Mace in her purse but had never used it. Evelyn had never traveled farther than New Orleans or the coast in her life. She decided she would not like flying so had refused to visit her friends’ second homes.

Evelyn Jane Grey stepped out of her front door into the eighty-degree evening, and she was ready to relax and have some fun with the girls at the Thursday Canasta Club just to break the tedious schedule of grading senior history term papers.

She looked down at the time on her cell phone. Where are you, Charlotte? We’re late again!

Hi, Ms. Grey. Two former students called and waved to her from the sidewalk; she smiled and waved back. The rumor was that she was related on her father’s side of the family to English royalty. Some students even called her Lady Evelyn Jane Grey. To her surprise, it was true. Last year a senior student asked the names of her parents and grandparents and found her link to Lady Jane Grey on Ancestry.com.

Charlotte, Evelyn’s next-door neighbor and best friend, slowly drove her white Mercedes SUV around the circle driveway. Evelyn grabbed her umbrella, opened the passenger door, climbed into the vehicle, and settled into the black leather seat. Air-conditioning inside the car felt good on this hot and humid spring evening.

We are crazy to ride two blocks, but it feels like a thunderstorm is brewing tonight. Did you hear the weather report? Charlotte asked.

Yes, a severe storm is coming.

Sixties music rolled through the stereo; B. J. Thomas was singing Hooked on a Feeling. I just can’t stop this feeling deep inside of me… Evelyn thought about Sid, whom she had secretly loved since first grade. Not even Charlotte knew. Now she and Sid were sixty-two years old. She was retiring from her teaching career at graduation, and as far as she knew, he had not decided to leave his position as principal of the Oakwood High School.

Evelyn, your Knock Out roses look terrific in the front yard around the tallest pine tree. They’ll be perfect cut flowers in a vase on your kitchen table this summer. I needed something different this year. Copley’s son, Sean, transplanted the pink vanillin to the backyard and in its place he put in the roses around the tree.

You should see the yellow and white Lemon Slice Superbells he has in hanging baskets on the veranda. Hummingbirds and butterflies are all over them. Copley has a gift for landscaping, but we all get old. Thank God he trained Sean to take over his work.

That piece of eye candy! Charlotte exclaimed. He must work out between yards. I always tip him extra when he works with his shirt off. They both smiled. By mid-June he will have a golden tan and look like Mr. Universe. But seriously, I need to ask Copley about suggestions for something new to replace the flowers that froze during the winter, Charlotte said.

What do you do about the yards in Vienna and Montpelier? Evelyn asked. It wasn’t the beautiful clothes, new cars, superior education, or lovely home at 112 Governor Street that was the major asset of being a trust fund baby. For Charlotte it was traveling to Austria and Vermont anytime she wanted to and owning three homes.

Same as here. I have a yard management company that takes care of it for me. Easy… peasy!

How was your trip to Vermont? Evelyn asked. Charlotte turned off the music. Mud season is over, and the mountains are green again. The sun is up early, and it’s getting dark later in the evening. The flowers are blooming. The capitol in Montpelier’s long mall is landscaped in multicolored pansies. It takes your breath away. The temperature is above freezing and pleasantly moderate during the day. Everyone in Canasta Club has been to see me when I am there, except you.

I don’t like to visit cities, Evelyn said.

Montpelier is the smallest state capitol in the nation. It’s only about four times the size of Oakwood. You’ve got to see for yourself one day.

You know I have no desire to travel, I’m content right here. I’m looking forward to life in Oakwood at Robin’s Nest with the freedom to enjoy it after retirement.

What is it going to take to get you out of this town? I know two good places to visit. You should go with me to Europe. My house near Vienna is a lot of fun in the summer.

Thanks, but don’t hold your breath! Evelyn laughed. I won’t leave Robin’s Nest unless there is a disaster and I absolutely have to leave. The most notable thing about her home was not its spacious rooms, its veranda and backyard, nor its distinctive furnishings, but its nickname. When her father had the 1920s Sears mansion built, he named it for his wife, Robin Grey. When Evelyn was a child, she thought the house was named for the robins that built their nest in a tree right outside her second-floor bedroom window.

I hope you get bored this summer and want to travel with me, Charlotte said.

Three cars were parked at Nono Barnes’s house. Looks like Mila and Jet are here tonight. They probably brought others, Charlotte said as she parked her SUV along the street behind Jet’s yellow Volkswagen convertible. She always parks crooked. Just an observation, I’m not trying to be mean!

Evelyn and Charlotte were a picture in contrasts standing on the porch waiting for someone to open the door. Evelyn was tall with shoulder-length blond hair, and Charlotte was small with a black bob. Evelyn was like a colorful parrot in a gilded cage. Everyone wanted to stop and talk with her. Charlotte was like an eagle. She soared high above the crowd, observing life here and there and traveling between her homes.

Nono opened the door. Come in before the rain hits you. Nono’s given name was Celeste, but she picked up her nickname early in life hearing her parents call New Orleans by the abbreviated version NO. By the time she was two and a half, she constantly said Go Nono to mean I want to go to New Orleans. In first grade, she refused to be called Celeste and insisted on Nono. The nickname stuck with her for life. The architecture of her home was French Quarter style with black flowery wrought-iron decorations on the front and a balcony. Her food and hobbies all reflected New Orleans. When Evelyn and Charlotte stepped into Nono’s home, they could hear Satchmo singing What a Wonderful World quietly in the background.

The storm had begun with large drops of slow rain and gray skies turning darker by the minute. They moved into the living room and joined the noisy group sitting around the room with bowls of spicy crawfish étouffée, crusty buttery French bread, and cups of New Orleans-style French Market Coffee with chicory. Evelyn was hungry, so she went to the table and filled a bowl with hearty soup. She found a seat by Anne Hope, who was also retiring this spring. Anne was a former Miss Mississippi and a PhD who had spent the last twenty years teaching and coaching woman’s basketball at the university close to home.

Charlotte moved around the crowd speaking to everyone and then surveyed the table. Mila Sokolov was sitting near the table and said to Charlotte, I’m finished, you can have this seat.

Thanks, I don’t want to rush you, Charlotte said.

No, you’re not rushing me. I’m ready to play cards. Mila lived in Oakwood for ten years, and her Russian accent mixed in a cute way with the Southern dialect. She arrived in Oakwood at age fifty as the wife of a retired professor, Costia Sokolov. They met while he was teaching in Saint Petersburg. She was a professor in the same university, and it was love at first sight for them. His parents moved to the United States when he was a child. Costia and Sid met at Columbia U and became lifelong friends.

Evelyn heard the thunder and a crash of lightning that shook the house. She felt chilled. The weather reminded her of her parents’ tragic death. They had spent the day shopping on Canal Street, dining in the French Quarter, and attending their favorite opera, Carmen, in New Orleans. On their way home, the Cadillac Seville was caught between the slow-moving traffic ahead and an eighteen-wheeler hydroplaning behind. Evelyn felt sad but remembered that her parents were together and happy doing what they enjoyed most on that fatal