Authors: Phyllis Smallman
CHAPTER 7
The parking area at the Sunset was nearly empty but across the road the public lot on the beach was quite busy. Hopefully a few of them would come in for lunch. I wouldn’t even insist on shoes and a coverup. The fear of impoverishment was making me real tolerant.
The Sunset is on the second floor of an old hotel with a panoramic view over the beach to the Gulf of Mexico. There’s a tiny elevator that takes customers up to the dining room in what was once the ballroom with an outdoor porch. It’s the best place on the whole West Coast of Florida to watch the sunset. And that’s not just me bragging but an actual quote from a Florida living magazine review, which I framed and hung in the elevator.
I don’t like elevators so I took the outside stairs at the north end. As I stepped through the door into the foyer my cell rang.
I opened the glass door to the bar, once a private club and my favorite part of the Sunset, as I answered the call. In the bar soft blues played in the background and huge ceiling fans, still run by the original pulley system, stirred air smelling of expensive perfume and very old scotch.
Clay said, “Hello, darlin’.”
A tingle of desire ran down my spine . . . well, at least somewhere in that direction. A man who could lead a saint down the road to perdition and have her saying, “Thank you, Lord,” when she got there, Clay could pretty much set everything on me vibrating.
But even as his velvet tones caressed me and turned my insides to jelly, his next words froze my heart.
“Sorry, babe, I’ve got bad news.”
“Well, tell me quick so I can get straight to calling you a bastard.” There had been too many last-minute cancellations, so manymissed dinners that our long-distance romance was surviving on memories alone. But I was crazy enough about Clay to put up with just about anything, including neglect.
“I can’t make it home.”
“Bastard.”
“The guys from North Star Construction are coming in tonight to look over the project and they want a meeting first thing tomorrow.”
“Will you be home after the meeting?”
“Only if it doesn’t go well.”
“And if it goes well?”
“I’ll be home next weekend for sure.”
I bit back sharp words while my brain called me a fool. I’ve got a real bad habit of hanging in too long, long after the party is over, and maybe I was doing it again hoping things would get better.
He sighed.
That sound set my heart fluttering. What hope did I have if just the sound of his sigh could warm me up enough to shed my clothes . . . along with my already very low standards? A kiss and I’d forgive him anything.
“I can’t stand it,” he said. “One way or another I’ll be home in a week.”
One more deadline, one more line in the sand.
What with the story about Holly, Isaak leaving me and Clay not coming home, I’d had all the bad news I could handle, but my already miserable day was about to get worse. Her name was Nora Simpson and she was one of Jacaranda’s gentry. With two friends in tow, she walked into the foyer where I was standing in for the hostess. She smiled at me like she had a bug in her sights and was about to stick a pin through it. My worry meter cranked up to the danger zone.
Nora was Laura Kemp’s best friend and Laura was Clay’s ex-girlfriend, the woman everyone was expecting Clay to go back to the minute he came to his senses and dumped me.
Laura’s clique never set foot in the Sunset so just coming through the door meant Nora Simpson was there for a purpose—and it wasn’t to make my day better.
“How lovely to see you, Sherri.”
“Likewise.” My mouth stretched in an imitation of a smile every bit as sincere as hers.
She jutted a hip and looked me up and down. “I must say you’re taking it well.”
Having no idea what she was talking about, I gave a slight lift of my shoulder and said, “No problem.”
“Really?” It was a long-drawn-out mocking sound. “I thought Laura being in Cedar Key with Clay would be a big problem for you.”
I picked up three menus. “A table for three, is it?”
Nora glanced into the restaurant. “And that’s not a problem either, I see.” She gave me another faux smile. “I’m so happy you’ve managed to stay in business. I’m sure this is a terrible time for you, but then breakups aren’t good at anytime, are they?”
I bit back, “You should know, bitch.” No way was I going to drive away customers. She could dump on me all she wanted as long as she paid the bill, so I refrained from telling her that her own husband was having an affair with one of the ladies she was lunching with.
I tried another smile and said, “This way.” I led them to a spot by the windows and set the menus down on a table with a pillar blocking the view. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies.”
I walked away with my head high, telling myself if Laura was in Cedar Key there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Trouble was, I couldn’t think of it.
My experience with men wasn’t encouraging. Jimmy Travis, my no-good dead husband, hadn’t kept his marriage vows long enough for the wedding bouquet to wilt. For Jimmy, cheating was just a game and one he played with great delight. But Clay wasn’t like that. At least that’s what I told myself over and over. Repetition didn’t seem to make it truer.
Nora wasn’t done wielding the knife. I had just hung up from taking a cancellation when she came out to the foyer on her way to the ladies room. She stopped in front of me and said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet, or in your case, your back.”
“Thank you for your confidence in me.” I turned away from her to greet two people getting off the elevator.
After I seated the new arrivals, I went into my office to make a call, intending to ask some pointed questions, like why is Laura Kemp in Cedar Key and is she the reason you can’t make it home?
Clay and I are equal partners in the Sunset. If he wanted out of our relationship and our partnership—well, there was no use considering that situation. I sucked in some deep breaths, telling myself, “Don’t start screaming before you know there’s a fire.”
When Clay finally picked up I gave him the good news, telling him Aunt Kay was making our late mortgage payments. “This will keep us alive until Thanksgiving.”
“But I don’t understand what she wants from you.”
“She just wants me to drive her around a bit.”
“It isn’t dangerous, is it?”
“Naw. I’m going to drive her around and wait while she talks to people. I can carry on almost as if I was at the Sunset. Talking of dangerous, what is Laura Kemp doing in Cedar Key?”
The silence was so loud it was deafening. Clay said, “Don’t go jumping to the wrong conclusions.”
“I haven’t jumped anything. I hope you can say the same.” There was a choking sound but before he could yell I kept going. “And I haven’t concluded anything except that the fact Laura Kemp is in Cedar Key hasn’t gone unnoticed. People are starting to talk about us in the past tense.”
His voice rose in protest, or maybe outrage. “She’s decorating the model suite for me.”
“Just make sure that’s all she does for you.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Why didn’t you tell me she was going up there?”
“If you’re not jealous, why do you care?”
Some truly rude comments came to mind. While I sorted through them for the most choice, Clay said, “Look, I didn’t want to upset you.”
I started to speak but he interrupted. “I know, I know, you couldn’t care less, but still, you and Laura have a little history.”
“A little history? More like our own civil war, not that it’s ever been very civil.”
“See what I mean? Just let it go. Laura’s been great. She brought lots of her own stuff and has done a fantastic job. Plus, she’s been helping to wine and dine these guys from the North who are going to save my bacon. And . . .”
“Stop,” I shouted before he could sing any more of her praises. “She’s so sweet I may throw up.”
“See, there you go.”
“You’re right. Here I go.” I hit End and then turned off my cell. It didn’t matter. Clay wouldn’t be calling back. Judging from past conversations like this it might be several days before one of us broke down and called.
Bugger! I wished I’d gotten some money out of Aunt Kay. Maybe I could talk her into paying half upfront. Then at least, if everything went for a dump, I’d have something. My mind played with the math. I could make a lot of suppliers happy and pay off a little on the mortgage. Maybe if I showed her I was trying I might be able to convince her to hand over a check.
I called Dan Raines. As I listened to the phone ringing, I worried that if Aunt Kay had time to think about her offer to me she’d change her mind. I should have gotten a check even if it was postdated.
“Hello,” Shelly Raines said. I stumbled over telling Shelly my name and that I wanted to talk to Dan.
Dan’s folks still lived in Jacaranda. They’d brought Shelly and Dan into the Sunset just the month before to celebrate Dan’s birthday, but Dan and I hadn’t really seen each other since high school.
“Dan worked the midnight shift,” she said, easy and friendly and not at all curious why this woman she barely knew would want to come to her house and talk to her husband. “He’s still sleeping. Come by about eight. Dan will be up by then.”
CHAPTER 8
Gwen Morrison, our hostess, wasn’t the only member of staff who wasn’t available that Sunday night. My bartender also didn’t make it in. It’s pretty sad when even the staff gives up on you, but to be fair there weren’t enough people in the place to make it worth his time.
I slipped behind the bar and listened to the woes of the few drinkers who did show up. Sometimes I think the only thing that brings customers up in the little elevator is the lure of having someone to talk to when they get to the top. Maybe it’s no more than my blank expression, which they mistake for rapt attention, but people seem to confide in me, to trust me enough to dump all over me. For that privilege they’re willing to buy overpriced alcohol. Recently, though, I’ve thought about getting a sign that says
DON’T TELL ME YOUR PROBLEMS OR I’LL BE FORCED TO RECIPROCATE,
but I figure it wouldn’t add much to the ambiance.
And most nights other people’s mistakes and bad decisions make for great entertainment. Not that night. That night a worm of worry was eating its way through my heart. Just the thought of losing Clay made tears well up.
I slipped into the kitchen to check on Miguel, who was in charge while Isaak was away. Miguel had everything under control. I was about to leave the kitchen when I turned back and asked, “Do you remember a waitress named Holly Mitchell?”
He didn’t look up from plating an order. “
Si
, pretty little thing.” His hand made a round motion in front of his stomach. “Very pregnant last time I see her.” He looked up. “Crazy to think of that one being a mother . . . she may forget to feed it.” He put three finished plates onto the high counter in front of him and hit a pager to summon a waitperson.
“When was this, when did you see her when she was pregnant?” He turned and gave orders to a helper before he considered myquestion. “We were in Sarasota for my niece’s first communion, before Christmas.” He turned away, a steaming pan already in his hand.
The bar had more lonely people in it than normal that night, all of them making me crazy. Brian Spears came in just in time to save my sanity. Before either of us spoke I took down a bottle of Famous Grouse and showed him the label. He nodded. When I set the scotch in front of him, he lifted his glass to me and offered his usual toast. “Success to temperance.”
I picked up the glass I had beneath the counter. “And to abstinence.” His first sip was followed by a contented sound and then he said, “Wait until you hear this, Sherri. According to your Uncle Ziggy, your father has a new girlfriend.”
“Well, that just proves hope never dies. I must take after my old man after all.”
“I have to say, your family is definitely entertaining.”
“We aim to please.”
The cash register pinged. I read the bar order and opened a bottle of red wine and set it on a tray with four glasses. “All of us Jenkinses like to keep things interesting.”
“You always do that.” Brian was not only my lawyer but also a longtime friend. He knew all about my folks, the ins and outs of family relationships and—from Ziggy’s fire to the attack on the ranch by the local crazy—he’d been involved in more than one of our disasters.
“So who is the new girlfriend?” Brian asked.
“If Uncle Ziggy doesn’t know, I sure don’t.” I delivered the wine to the wait station and came back to lean on the bar in front of Brian. “Old fool. It’s bound to end badly—finish with tears and restraining orders.”
He took an appreciative sip and made sounds of joy before going on with his story. “It’s become some kind of a game for those two old buzzards. Ziggy’s taken to sneaking up on Tully to figure out who it is your dad phones behind closed doors. Ziggy says it’s definitely someone in Jacaranda so it must be someone we know.”
“Probably a married woman,” I said. “Dad likes it that way— they don’t get ideas.”
“Ziggy tried tailing him into town but Tully cottoned on to him, turning off his headlights and tearing off down a dirt road. They played tag in the dark like teenagers before Ziggy lost him.”
Brian was grinning like a fool as he tipped his glass at me. “You are a shining member of one crazy clan.”
“Show a little respect. It took two hundred years of inbreeding to arrive at our level of stupidity.”
Brian jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the dining room. “I think it’s one of your waitresses. Your dad took a keen interest in Maria at his birthday dinner.”
“My father takes a keen interest in any female who comes within sniffing distance. It was about the only thing my parents had in common, an overwhelming interest in the opposite sex. It kept their lives interesting, deciding which one was currently misbehaving.”
Brian lowered the glass halfway to his lips. “Do you suppose Ruth Ann is back in town?” He answered his own question. “No, we’d all know if your mother was back. So who is it?”
“Why would I know, or care? My dad’s life is his problem. I have enough troubles of my own.”