The End of Promise by Rita A. Popp

Author:Rita A. Popp [Popp, Rita A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC022070 FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Cozy / General
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Bethany started the new day with a plan to get to the Foundation office by nine o’clock after a quick stop to see Gene Waverly. She parked in his short driveway, and hoping he hadn’t left for campus, stepped up to a covered porch. As she knocked on the front door, she heard a chorus of yapping. She had never been inside this nineteenth-century home across from the park. She’d never had a reason to visit Gene’s home before now.

She could hear him admonish his dogs. “Pipe down, you three.” Moments later, he peered out at her. “Bethany Jarviss? Not a sight for sore eyes. Seems we just saw each other.”

“You did invite me to see you again.”

“Yes, I did. Come on in. Don’t mind the ankle biters.”

“Ankle sniffers.” The Dachshunds examined her feet and lower legs. She gave each dog a pat.

“Let’s go out back,” Gene said. “I’m having my morning coffee. Interest you in a cup?”

“No thanks. I’ve had mine.”

She followed him through a homey living room and kitchen to a porch filled with marigolds and geraniums ranging from white to pale pink to red. The potted plants covered a patio table, the porch railings, and most of the floor. The Dachshunds fitted themselves into tight spaces among the greenery and lay panting.

Gene drew out a chair for Bethany. Across from her, he drank from a purple mug stamped with a worn NMU logo.

“It’s nice out here,” Bethany said. “Your flowers are beautiful.”

“The wife’s. Like the sausage dogs.”

“You take good care of them.”

“The plants or the doggies?”

“Both.” Bethany relaxed in the peaceful surroundings. “Know what, if it’s not too much trouble, may I have a cup of coffee after all?”

“’Course you can. Back in a sec.”

He rose from the chair in a quick, startling motion. A spry old guy in his red suspenders and faded jeans, the man in the flesh didn’t fit his lazy-prof image. People must underestimate him.

He returned with coffee in a worn mug that matched the first one. Bethany imagined Gene and his wife sitting here with their coffees year after year, the mugs’ lettering fading with repeated washings. Apparently, their marriage had faded as well. She felt sorry for this man left to lovingly care for the ex’s little dogs and her flowers.

Bethany hesitated to say what she had come to ask. Instead, she said, “Good, strong coffee. Do I taste peanuts?”

Gene thumbed a suspender and stuck out his chest. “That’s right. I grind some from the family farm in Portales with the coffee beans. People like hazelnut coffee. I figured why not try putting in peanuts.”

“Clever,” Bethany said. “Delicious.”

Past the porch, the fenced-in backyard held bushes and trees as healthy as the potted plants. Gene was a farmer at heart; he didn’t neglect the living things on his property.

“You’re obviously good with animals and plants, Gene. Why didn’t you become an ag prof or county agent? Why choose education?”

“Because of my mama. She said kids needed more men teachers. If I was an education prof, I could be a role model for guys considering majoring in it.

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