Different Drummers by Jean Houghton-Beatty

up to him, determined to win him over. “Aren’t you proud of me?”
    Bob leaned against the car. “Whew, thirty-eight dollars a week. I never thought you’d get that much. Old man Tate must have taken quite a shine to you.”
    â€œThere’s more,” she said, trying not to babble. “He’s offered to rent us a little dream house at the back of his own lot. I can’t wait to show it to you.”
    He slapped his hand on the hood of the car. “Damn, Kathleen, I told you last night we can’t go movin’ right now. You make it sound so easy but what about furniture and all the other things we’ll need? And anyway, how much is he askin’ for rent?’
    She pushed away the feeling of irritation and hurt. “It’s already furnished, right down to towels in the bathroom. And the rent is only thirty five dollars a month which I’m sure must be a steal.”
    Her smile came back as she added her final piece of good news. “On top of that, he’s letting us have the first month rent free.”
    A frown creased Bob’s forehead. “Why’s he bein’ so nice to you? I don’t get it.”
    â€œIt’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
    He folded his arms as he looked at her with grudging admiration. “I have to hand it to you, Baby. When you move, you really move. Shoot, you’re way ahead of me. I ain’t even thought about lookin’ for a job yet.”
    â€œMr. Tate said you shouldn’t have any trouble. There are jobs all over. I brought the Gazette home so we can check the advertisements. We’ll find something.”
    â€œHm, we’ll see. When does he want you to start?”
    â€œWe settled on next Monday. That’ll give you and me a week together. I told Mr. Tate we’d probably spend a few days at the beach before we settle down.” She smiled, knowing already what his answer would be. Or at least she thought she knew.
    â€œThe beach.” His voice was loud, harsh. “Where in the hell did you get an idea we might go to the beach. I never told you we’d do that. I hate the beach. Can’t stand all that sand.”
    Kathleen flung out her arms. “Damn it, Bob, in one of your letters you said Myrtle Beach was one of your favorite places.”
    She’d read the letter so many times she almost knew it by heart.
    â€œYou wrote about the miles and miles of beautiful sands and how you loved to walk in the surf. Why did you write those things if you hate the beach so much?”
    He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Hell, I don’t know. Why do we say a lot of things?”
    He turned as Beulah gave a loud sigh and started to walk away. “Where’re you goin’, Momma?”
    Beulah stared at her son, disappointment showing plainly in her face. “Kathleen done good today gettin’ that job, Bobby, and findin’ y’all a place of your own. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see you shouldn’t be doin’ all this fussin’. It ain’t right.”
    She pulled her battered straw hat down low over her eyes, then picked up her hoe. “I’m going on out to my garden. I ain’t listenin’ to anymore of this.”
    Kathleen stared after her, filled with warmth and gratitude toward the sad, retreating figure. “Your momma’s right,” she said, turning back to Bob. “We are fussing and I don’t know why.”
    â€œIt’s because you just can’t let me be. For cryin’ out loud, I just got home yesterday.”
    The good news about her job and the beautiful little house she’d found were lost on her now. Apparently Bob didn’t give a damn about either. A trembling anger surged through her at this undeserved treatment.
    â€œYes, I can leave you be, but remember I only got here myself last Wednesday. Four weeks ago I was still in England. I think I’ve had a lot