A Chance of a Lifetime (6 page)

Calvin couldn't walk away from those pictures fast enough. He sat so his back was to them, and he kept his gaze fiercely, narrowly ahead.

“There's a game on if you want to watch it,” Justice said.

“Nah, I'm okay.” He rested his forearms on his knees. “How's business?”

“We stay busy. Everyone wants tile in their houses—except your mama. Right now we're doing a project for a retired general who wants the Army Seal in the middle of the foyer. So we're cutting little pieces of tile to make cannonballs, a suit of armor, and flags. It's beautiful—we're about half done—and it's labor-intense, which means pricy. So the general's happy, and so are we.”

Painstaking, repetitive work. That sounded like just what Calvin needed. When he had to focus hard on what he was doing, time went faster and things went better. It was when his mind wandered that he worried.

But a call from the hallway was going to keep him focused enough. “Dinner's ready!” Gran yelled. “Bring your appetites, your blessings, and your thanks to the cooks.”

Lucy had finished her Saturday chores and was considering a trip to Sam's in Tulsa to restock her baking ingredients and wondering what Joe was up to. She could easily make the journey alone, but it was always nicer with someone to talk to on the long drive—and face it, to heft those fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar into her cart and then her car.

After wiping down the kitchen counters, she walked into the living room, rubbing lotion into her hands, her fingers bumping over her wedding rings every time she swiped. There on the sofa lay Norton, back scooted against the cushions, a pillow under his head, and nestled against him, tucked into the curve of his chin, was the pitiful kitten Joe had rescued last week. Lucy had tried to send it home with him, but Joe had tap-danced out of it, leaving her with a kitten she really didn't want.

Both animals lifted their heads to look at her, then resumed their usual task of doing nothing.

When the doorbell rang, Lucy was surprised. No one came over without calling first. Well, Joe did, but civilized grown-ups didn't, and he only rang the bell on the times he was too lazy to dig out his keys. She checked the peep hole—a few years ago he had lowered the old one so she could see—then she pulled the door open. “John! What a pretty boy you are. And so happy.” She swung him from his mother's arms, then added, “Hi, Ilena. Come on in. What brings you two out on such a gloomy day?”

“It's not so gloomy. The sun's there. You just can't see it for the rain.” Ilena slipped off the quilt that was keeping John dry, then shrugged out of her coat and hung both over the back of a kitchen chair. “Where's Joe?”

“Did you hear your silly mama?” Lucy said in a baby-soft voice before making smoochy sounds at John. “I'm going to put a sign on both doors that says, ‘Attention: Joe Cadore does not live here. He just spends way too much time here. His house is the white one'—and I'm gonna paint an arrow pointing that way.”

John laughed delightedly, making the lost-her-chance wife and mother inside Lucy embrace her tightly from inside out. A couple minutes with Ilena's cutie patootie, and she was a happier woman. That was a lot of magic for a five-month-old to wield.

“And why does Joe spend so much time here?” Ilena asked slyly.

“Because I feed him.”

Ilena blew a raspberry.

“Because he can dump strays on me and I take them.”

“Oh, Norton's not a stray—” Looking over at the dog, all comfy on the couch, Ilena broke off. Circling around, she sat on the coffee table for a better look. “What's the name of the little teeny guy lying way too close to Norton's mouth? Dinner?”

“I thought of that, though for Norton, he'd only be an appetizer. I also considered Conair since it took me two hours to thaw him out from last week's ice storm and get him warm and dry again. And I gave some thought to Keurig because I drank a dozen cups of coffee to stay awake that night for fear he would die if I closed my eyes. The last option was Lazy Bum, for Joe, who brought him into my house, wrapped him in a towel, and said, ‘Here you go, Luce. Happy Saturday.'”

Ilena cautiously lifted the kitten from the couch, settling him on her lap. Norton's suspicious gaze never left them. “Which one did you settle on?”

“Sebastian.”

“Poor Sebastian. Sweetie, your name's bigger than you are.”

Lucy and John watched Ilena gently stroke the kitten before Lucy said, “Hmm…you know, John will need a pet before long. A little boy would probably love a little kitten who could snuggle with him and purr when he babbles.”

“Oh, no,” Ilena said in her sternest voice. “I'm already coping with one nonverbal creature who needs constant care. I'm not adding another.”

“Darn,” Lucy said, though she wasn't really disappointed. She had never said to herself,
I want a half-frozen kitten,
but since she'd gotten one, she was making the best of it. Besides, Norton curling up to sleep on his bed with Sebastian and his yellow ducky sharing equal places of honor guaranteed her at least one smile a day.

Ilena replaced the kitten next to the dog, then stood up and brushed her skirt down. “I came to talk to you about your business.”

Pleasure skittered through Lucy, settling somewhere in her chest.

“Remember my old boss Brody? Actually, I probably talked more about his wife the witch than I did him.”

Lucy nodded. The conversations were memorable for two reasons: because it was out of character for Ilena to talk badly about someone else, and because the wife really had been a witch to all the poor unfortunates who crossed paths with her.

“Alicia Anne fancied herself a caterer, so Brody bought a little place for her to set up shop in. Before she actually cooked anything in the new building, she decided the summers here were too hot, so he sold the real estate office and they moved to Florida.”

“Because of course it never gets hot there.”

Ilena grinned at Lucy's snark. “Anyway, Alicia Anne won't let him sell the building because…well, even Brody doesn't understand why, but he figures he should recoup at least some of his investment, so he's looking for a tenant. He completely redid the kitchen for Alicia Anne, though she decided they had to move as soon as that was done, so the dining room needs work. The rent is really reasonable—”

She stated a number that raised Lucy's brows. She could totally pay that for a year from her savings, which was how much time she'd given herself to prove Prairie Harts could succeed. She wasn't expecting total self-sufficiency, much less a profit, in that time, but at least some evidence that either or both were somewhere on the horizon.

“The downside is that the location isn't the best—one of the reasons Alicia Anne changed her mind, I'm sure. It's on North First Street.” Ilena wrinkled her nose and raised her brows. “But you see the potential, don't you? You want to go see it, don't you?”

North First was that section of street leaving town that every town had: empty lots, a motel, a flower shop, a gas station, a garage. It lacked the charm of downtown Tallgrass and the commercial traffic of East Main and the first few blocks of South First. But a kitchen she could afford…a space that met her needs both for catering now and a bakery/restaurant later…

“Of course I want to see it. Can we go now? Just let me clean up.”

After handing John to his mother, Lucy went to the bedroom, opened both closet doors, and stared for a moment before pulling out a brand-new pair of miracle-fiber jeans that were like Spanx for her entire lower body. Even her feet looked better in the jeans. She added a snug-fitting sweater that stopped an inch below her waist and boots that barely cleared her ankles—her punishment for having fat ankles and calves that wouldn't fit in a pair of knee boots to save her life. She put on rings, bracelets, a necklace, and perfume, and headed back to the living room.

“Oh, I like your hair down, Lucy,” Ilena said happily. “You're so pretty.”

A flush warmed her face. She had never had the delicate/pale/blond beauty Ilena took for granted, but she
was
feeling happier with her own self these days. Not pretty yet—still too round for that—but getting there.

“And you went shopping! How many sizes have you lost?”

“Two. Three if I don't breathe.”

“Oxygen's overrated.” Ilena hefted John to her shoulder while Lucy gathered her coat, purse, and keys, then they piled into Ilena's SUV for the short drive to the restaurant.

It sat alone in the middle of a block that was only half the usual size. The parking lot was gravel and bumpy, and patches of yellow weeds attested to how rarely it saw traffic. The building was sandstone across the front, brick on the sides, and large windows looked in on a largely empty room with construction debris on one side and a dusty display cabinet on the other. It was kind of sad and lonely looking, but Lucy could all too easily envision landscaping, scrumptious pastries in the display case, a homey dining room, and the wonderful, yeasty, buttery aromas of deliciousness in the ovens.

She absolutely loved it.

C
ome walk with me to deliver that pie I just made.”

Bennie looked up from the middle of her bed. Her laptop was open on one side, her tablet on the other, and a good old-fashioned textbook sat in the middle. Except for a break for lunch, she'd been studying all day, and she was pretty sure her brain had run out of room for new facts a while ago. Taking off the glasses she had to wear after a few hours of digital reading, she pinched the bridge of her nose, then smiled at Mama. “You're giving that coconut cream pie away? And here I thought you'd made it for me, since I'm the biggest fan of your pies in the whole universe.”

“I made one for us, too. Come on. Put some shoes on and let's get us some fresh air.”

Because she did need fresh air, and because she didn't like Mama wandering off through the neighborhood alone, Bennie swung her feet to the floor and slid them inside her favorite scuffed-up clogs. They had a wedge heel that kept her jeans from dragging on the ground, and nubby wool socks would keep her feet warm.

Brushing curls back from her face, she followed Mama to the living room and slipped her arms into her favorite jean jacket. Already wearing her own jacket, Mama waited at the door, a plastic cake carrier carefully balanced by its handles.

“Which of our neighbors is the lucky one today?” Bennie asked as they made their way down the steps, then along the sidewalk to the street.

“I haven't decided yet. Might be the first one I see. Might be the last house I pass before I decide to come back home.”

Mama's method was no more scientific than that. Knowing that, on cool fall days when she baked pies and tarts from the apples that fell in their yard, the whole neighborhood would be out on their porches or in their own yards, hoping her randomness would pick them.

“It's a lovely day to be out, isn't it?” Mama asked with a satisfied sigh.

The temperature was just low enough that Bennie could have used a heavier jacket, and the sun had no intention of coming out to play. The rain had stopped, though. Plus, Mama routinely announced that every day a person woke up was a lovely one—as opposed to the alternative—and no one ever won an argument with Mama.

“Tonight's trick or treat.”

“Oh, yay.”
Not.
Bennie had been officially over Halloween since high school. All the day meant now was too much candy, too much spending, and too many parents giving their kids an early start on the idea of getting something for nothing.

Mama, on the other hand, had a decidedly different point of view. “What are you dressing up as?”

“A hardworking student who needs to learn microbiology before the test on Tuesday.”

Mama gave her a chiding look. “I'm going to be a witch. I have a pointy hat and a wart to put on my nose, and I'm going to wear my ruby slippers. I've been practicing my cackle. How does this sound?”

She unleashed a laugh that made Bennie laugh, then fake a shiver. “Spooky.”

“Nobody will dare prank me. They'll be too scared.”

She was right about the first part. There wasn't a kid in the neighborhood who would think of toilet-papering her yard or egging her house, but it wasn't because they were scared of her. It was a matter of respect and love, though if they needed a little fear to keep them on the straight and narrow, Bennie would be happy to provide it.

“And we have a winner.” Cheerfully, Mama turned into the next driveway, her short legs making long strides while Bennie dragged in dismay. The Sweet house. Had Mama planned to come here all along, or had she just chosen the family because Justice, sitting on the porch, was the first neighbor they'd seen—

Bennie's feet came to an abrupt halt without input from her brain. That wasn't Justice sitting still as a statue in the red rocker. No, it was a younger version, a taller one, a leaner one.

It was Calvin.

“Mama!” she whispered, but by now her grandmother was just a few yards short of the porch steps.

What was she supposed to do now? Of course she knew what Mama expected of her: following along obediently, smiling, and being friendly. But that wasn't Bennie's first choice. Maybe standing at the end of the driveway like a fool while Mama dropped off the pie? Mama
never
just dropped off a pie. She would stay and visit, say hello to Justice and Elizabeth, and give Miss Emmeline an opportunity to take credit for teaching her how to make that special meringue.

Or she could run back home like a coward.

Oh, no. Benita Pickering Ford was not and had never been a coward. She'd been standing up for herself all her life, knowing first her daddy and then Mama had her back, but she hadn't relied on them too often. She fought her own battles and stood up to her own bullies.

And Calvin Sweet wasn't going to change that.

Stiffening her spine, she strode along the driveway, reaching the steps just a few seconds behind Mama. She followed the old lady up, folded her arms across her middle, and waited strong and steady for the confrontation to come.

“I heard you were in town,” Mama said with a broad grin. “About a week, isn't it, and you haven't come to see me so I can hug your neck yet.”

“I, uh…” That may have been all he meant to say. It was hard to tell since Mama had hold of his neck, and it was even harder to tell from ten feet away if she was hugging him or strangling him.

J'Myel had always accused Mama of using a hug as an excuse to get him into a headlock.
That's because you've always been up to something,
Mama responded.
For every hug you deserve, you've probably earned two headlocks.

Bennie's chest tightened. After J'Myel died, she'd become an expert at breathing using just a tiny portion of her lungs. Filling them took too much effort, gave her mind too much time to run through a million precious memories. In the moments it took her to breathe deeply, a tear could fall, and the first one was always followed by a flood of tiny, salty, anguished ones that didn't end until she was a limp, exhausted, soggy mess. And she would not let Calvin turn her into a soggy mess.

With her hands tightened into fists, she took another breath, then slowly directed her gaze past Mama to finally settle on Calvin for the first time in years. At the moment, she couldn't remember exactly when things had started going wrong between them, when J'Myel had stopped starting every sentence with
Me and Calvin…
It had been years. A lifetime. Too much time had passed, too many hurts, to ever forgive.

He was six feet tall, but even after all the years of working out and literally running for his life, he was as lean as ever. J'Myel had bulked up tremendously. When he'd come home for their wedding, he'd had to borrow a dress uniform from one of his friends because his muscles didn't fit into his old one anymore.

Calvin was still sleek, muscular but not-in-your-face so. There were a few hard lines etched into his face, and his eyes were flat—not emotionless, but wary. Unwelcoming. There was none of the mischief or the gleam she'd always associated with him, none of the pleasure at seeing her.

Well, that was only fair, because she wasn't feeling any pleasure at seeing him, either. Her chest hurt, and the air simmered around her, and she wanted nothing more than to vent her anger, to stomp her feet, to stare right through him, to freeze him to the core.

All he'd said so far was
I, uh…
, but Mama didn't need silly things like responses; she could keep a conversation going all by herself with minimal effort. After a good long hug, she stepped back and gestured Bennie's way with one elbow. “Well, Calvin, say hello to Bennie, or did you not recognize her there? All growed up, dressing like a woman instead of a tomboy, and she finally quit torturing her hair.”

“Mama.”
Heat rushed though Bennie, but she steeled herself for his gaze, sliding head to toe as if he were confirming that she had indeed grown up, morphed from buddy into woman, and gone natural. She hoped he didn't think she'd dressed up for him because obviously she hadn't. Obviously she wouldn't even be there if she hadn't been tricked. Her jeans were almost as comfortable for studying in bed as sweats, and the dappled gray sweater was flattering. Nothing special.

“Say hello, Calvin,” Mama prompted.

Lines appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Bennie.”

Mama beamed. “Now you say it back, Bennie.”

Bennie would bet matching lines had formed around her mouth. She knew her teeth were clenched so tightly that it was a miracle sound could escape. “Hello, Calvin.”

Mama appeared oblivious to the tension, but Bennie knew better. The old woman wasn't oblivious to anything, no matter how she might pretend.

“I brought you one of my famous coconut cream pies,” Mama said, lifting the carrier to bring his attention to it. “I remember how much you loved them. I'll just take it inside and say hello to your folks and to Emmeline. Here, Bennie, you have a seat and make yourself comfortable for a few minutes.”

Why?
Why was Mama putting her through this? She knew everything that had happened between Bennie, J'Myel, and Calvin. She
knew
how he had let Bennie down, how he'd broken her heart even when it was already breaking.

But Mama was a woman of grace and forgiveness. She thought some of that had rubbed off on her granddaughter.

Bennie scowled at her grandmother's back all the way to the door. Wishing she had her big coat with pockets to hide her fists and a hood to hide her face, she turned to stare out at the street. One minute ticked by after another, nothing but silence in the air. She didn't mind silence. She wasn't intimidated by it. She could stand right there, chilled to the bone, and say nothing until Mama finished visiting with the family inside. Wouldn't bother her in the least.

So she couldn't begin to explain why the next sound she heard was her own voice, hostile and thick and as cold as the air. “Why are you here?”

More quiet, then finally came the creak of the rocker. “I go where the Army tells me.”

She closed her eyes. He had a man's voice now, deep and steady, though she would bet he still had the ability to hit some notes that were high for even her when he was excited.
Squeaky,
J'Myel used to call him.
Squinty,
Calvin responded, a reference to the glasses J'Myel had hated.

“How long will you be here?”

“As long as they say.”

Oh, God, had he been assigned to Fort Murphy? Was he going to be living in her town for the next however many years, where she could run into him every time she left the house? Could she bear seeing him at odd times, caught off guard and overwhelmed with memories?

Tallgrass was a decent-sized town, she reminded herself while struggling to steady her breaths, and the fort was even bigger. Since he would work on post and she was at the civilian hospital, and he would hang out with his Army friends and she would stay with her friends, it wasn't likely they
would
run into each other. Maybe in the neighborhood here, but she would be on alert. She could avoid him as thoroughly as he'd avoided her the past five years.

That was what she would do: avoid him when she could, ignore him when she couldn't. The way he'd avoided her. The way he'd ignored her. It was a plan she could live with.

So she was doubly surprised when her body turned to face him of its own volition and the next sound she heard, once more, was her own voice. “Why didn't you ever say
I'm sorry
?”

As Calvin's hands tightened on the arms of the rocker, Bennie's hand flew to her mouth as if she wanted to capture the words and force them back inside. A sharp wind from the west made his eyes water. Not sorrow. Not guilt. Not the anger of her and J'Myel's betrayal.

He was sorry, all right. He was sorry J'Myel had let him down. Sorry Bennie had thrown away more than fifteen years of friendship with
him
in favor of staying on J'Myel's good side. Sorry that J'Myel had died and sorry that
he
had lived when so many good people hadn't.

“What do you think I owe you an apology for?”

She blinked, her brown eyes going even darker with emotions flitting through them. She really was
all growed up
. She'd been pretty when he and J'Myel had left for the Army, but in the years since, she'd matured, gotten all soft and womanly. Curls framed her face, and her curves had filled out, rounding her breasts and hips. Any man would give her a second glance, would go out of his way to speak to her, learn her name, earn a smile from her…if he didn't already have a history with her.

Annoyance settled in her eyes as she freed one hand long enough to make a dismissive gesture, one he'd seen from her a thousand times. “Not an apology. Sympathy. When J'Myel died. My husband. Your best friend.”

Too restless to sit any longer, Calvin surged to his feet and walked to the end of the porch. From the corner of his eye, he could see his father through the window, sitting in the old easy chair with the newspaper, and he knew from experience that the women were in the kitchen, gathered around the table there to gossip.

Probably about him.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he faced Bennie, though he had to focus every second on keeping his gaze from darting away. “He wasn't much of a friend the last few years,” he said flatly, refusing to acknowledge even to himself how deeply those words hurt. “And neither were you.”

She didn't have anything to say to that. She tried. Her lips parted, then closed, parted again, then closed again. There just wasn't any defense to the truth.

Even though it was the truth, he still could have sent a card. People who hadn't known J'Myel and Bennie even a fraction of the way he had, had sent cards, maybe even flowers. Calvin could have, probably should have, but the time for that was long past. The fact that he hadn't was just one more in a very long list of regrets.