Between Us Girls (41 page)

Lord, have mercy.

She promised Samantha she would pray that Jasmyn would have wisdom to make the best choices. Now was not the time to explain that sometimes not-so-good choices ended up being the best for growth as well as for blessings. That life was never perfect and that stumbling allowed one to seek grace like nothing else could.

Liv did not want to hear that stuff herself. She preferred to hear that God answered the prayers of a woman of faith, even if those prayers were purely selfish demands.
Just bring her home to the Casa, Lord. Just bring her on back.

She stroked Tobi's furry neck and listened to her sweet purr. “What are we going to do, Tobi? Prayer is a work in progress. Faith has no handles. We can only keep on keeping on.”

She sat in silence and listened to the whispers in her heart.

And she understood that keeping on keeping on was not a solo affair.

And that faith did have handles. They came in the form of friends, three women in particular.

Liv referred to them as her top people. Although separated through the years by situations or distance, they remained her touchstones when it came to the spiritual.

But what she loved most about them was that they prayed at the drop of a hat.

She set Tobi on the floor, went to her desk, and composed a quick email to her friends and sent it off. Technology and backup were also wondrous things.

Liv found Beau in Cottage Three, sitting on a tarp in the living room, staring at three opened cans of paint.

“Beau?”

He turned, his cheeks still tinged with pink. “Sorry to have bothered you while you were on the phone, Miss Olivia.” He gestured to the cans. “I can't remember which color you wanted where.”

The man never forgot the slightest detail about what she asked him to do. They had discussed the colors on Friday for a long time. She had even gone with one of his suggestions. And by now in her presence, he would have politely risen to his feet.

She said, “I liked your suggestion about the pale yellow in the living room and the lemon yellow in the kitchen.”

His eyes glazed over.

“Beau, are you all right?”

“Hmm?”

“You seem to be somewhere else today.”

“Well now, Miss Olivia, I am sorry to say that your observation is true. I apologize for my subpar performance.”

“Can I help you?”

He looked somewhere over her shoulder and exhaled a big-man sort of exhausted breath. He got to his feet and removed his cap. “I'm afraid I need some time off. A week.” He shook his head. “Or so. I'll get someone to cover for me. I have a trustworthy friend who can work here between his other jobs. You don't need to worry about a thing.”

Liv felt her hand moving toward her chest and lowered it. Her mind was already drafting a postscript to the email she had just sent. “I do worry. About you, though, not about the work.”

His shy smile flashed. “Miss Olivia, you could pass for my Granny Mibs.”

“Except for the small hands.”

A crimson red flushed his cheeks now.

She had hoped for a full-on grin. What was going on with Beau, the steady, unflappable guy?

He cleared his throat. “I do thank you for your concern, but there is no need for you to worry. We know rain is going to fall now and then in every life. I seem to be in the middle of a flood. I'll just run up to Hollywood to see if I can't rebuild the riverbanks before any more damage is done.”

River banks? Hollywood? She had no clue what he was talking about.

He reached into a back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “If you don't mind, I'll close up these paint cans and give my friend a call. Here's his card.” He handed it to her. “Nice guy. Knowledgeable. Excellent.”

Liv touched his hand. “Beau, will you save the cottage for whenever you get back? Please.”

“Of course, Miss Olivia, if you're sure that's what you want.”

“It is. This is our project. I don't want to move ahead without you.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded, as if he understood there was no practical reason for her request. She was asking him to come back because she simply could not lose another member of her home.

Seventy-One

Tuesday morning at the Pig, wrapped in Danno's bear-sized arms, Jasmyn shut her eyes. She felt the soft flannel against her cheek, smelled the familiar barbecue scent, and wished more fiercely than ever that he was her dad and not that fly-by-night stranger who just happened to meet Jerri Albright on his way through the state.

“Welcome home, Jazzie.” Danno moved her to arm's length, his eyes soft and his forehead creased. “That girl was honest-to-goodness for real?”

There was no need for him to explain which girl. “She was honest-to-goodness for real.”

“Well, I'll be switched. You got family in California.”

“Sort of.”

He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and let go. “I bet the guy never knew you existed. Have a seat.”

She smiled to herself. Quinn had filled him in on the details of her meeting with Manda Smith. He was sweet to try to make the situation okay.

He yelled toward the kitchen, “Hey, Biscuit!” He winked at Jasmyn and said in a low tone, “I found a new way to annoy Quinn.”

As if on cue, there was a loud smack against the swinging door, and Quinn burst through it, frowning. “Seriously, Danno? You're going to keep that up?”

Jasmyn laughed. “He will as long as you keep reacting like a wet hen.”

Danno led them through the dining room, vacant at this time of day. “Step into my office, ladies.”

They sat near the French doors that led to the screened-in porch at a large round table, where Danno typically conducted business. If vendors came during business hours, he'd offer them a stool in the kitchen beside the stainless steel counter. His official office was a messy, closet-sized nook, where the only clear spot was the computer. Jasmyn did not know for sure if there was a desk underneath it.

Danno eyed them one at a time. “Ready?”

Jasmyn nodded and saw Quinn do the same.

The evening before, he had called to ask if they could meet before she returned to work on Wednesday. He wanted to discuss the possibility of her buying the restaurant, if she was still interested. She was, but she hadn't imagined he would bring it up on her second day back in town. But then, she had absolutely no clue how to take over an established business. She had told him her idea about partnering with Quinn. He invited her to join them.

“Let me start by saying that you two are the best.” Danno's expression seemed more sad than businesslike. “In my thirty years here, you two have been the absolute best. Separately and as a team. I know if anyone can keep the Pig flying, it'll be you ladies.”

Jasmyn exchanged a glance with Quinn. Her brows inched upward too. The praise was overboard for Danno.

“You know I'm not full of hot air, so just accept what I said as true.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from a file folder and laid them out. “I want to show you exactly what you'd be signing up for.”

Jasmyn listened as he explained some of the financials. The numbers were not unfamiliar. He had brought her into the loop years ago, needing her to fill in for him now and then to order supplies or help with the payroll. She knew he made a decent living, but it was hard work.

“It's more a labor of love than anything. I think you both get that. You gotta love people and make them feel special. You gotta make top-notch food and make the place comfortable. We're getting a little dated, but that's an easy fix. Fresh paint, new lights. Just takes time and creativity. You'll want to put your own stamp on it. Maybe even change the name.”

They protested that idea.

He smiled. “Remember, it was the Factory when I bought it. I called it the Rib House for years before adding the Flying Pig because the wife thought it needed some pizzazz.” His expression turned somber again,
and he muttered something to himself. “I need to quit beating around the bush.” He took a deep breath. “The thing is, Ellie has breast cancer.”

Jasmyn imagined his wife, several years younger than Danno, a vivacious redhead who was involved in theater, mostly in Rockville where they lived. When it came to the Valley Oaks community and barbecue ribs, she was usually absent. She and Danno seemed mismatched. Somehow, though, they had made their marriage work. They never had children. The restaurant and Ellie were his life.

As Jasmyn and Quinn began to sympathize and ask questions, he held up his hands. “They got it early, but this is it. She means more to me than the Pig. It's time to retire. She's already moved down to Florida where her sister lives. She'll have surgery and treatment there. So, ladies, I am leaving.”

Jasmyn stared at him.

He nodded. “In two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“Yeah. I'm sorry. That messes with the timetable.”

Timetable? What timetable?

Suddenly Jasmyn realized that her eager-beaver return was all about some fuzzy future. It was not about two weeks from now.

She looked over at Quinn, who mouthed,
Red flag
.

Seventy-Two

The Valley Oaks Library resembled absolutely nothing Sam had ever seen before. Which was, surprisingly, a positive.

It fell somewhere between her childhood library—three shelves in a doorless closet off the community meeting room—and the bibliophile's dream-come-true at UCLA. Valley Oaks was a happy medium with an old-fashioned card catalog, a few computers, and, most importantly, books on local history.

Sam sat at a table alongside tall, sun-filled windows, lost in the thickest book titled simply
Patrick County
. It contained the county's history including photographs, a few from the 1860s. She flipped pages in search of a Hannah Susanne Carlson born in 1924.

Sam muttered, “How can there be so many Carlsons in one place? I should start with her parents' names. Or the grandparents.”

“What you need is the genealogy collection.”

Sam jumped at the squeaky voice behind her and turned to see a very small bird of a woman in a wheelchair. “Excuse me?”

“The genealogy collection. It's in the basement.” She scowled, jerked on the wheel, spinning it toward the front desk, and called out, “Gloria! Gloria! Go get her the genealogy collection.”

The librarian, a fortyish blonde who had helped Sam find the local history books, stepped from behind the counter and came over to the table. “Hattie, what do you need?”

“
I
don't need a thing.
She
needs the genealogy collection.”

The librarian smiled at Sam. “Which township?”

“I don't know. Whichever one Lynn Center is in.”

Hattie shouted, “Denkmann Township! The red-bound ones on the east wall. Do I have to get them myself?”

“Would you like to? I'll take you on the elevator.”

“No, I would not like to! You know they made me retire. I don't work here anymore, missy.” In a huff she wheeled herself away.

The woman chuckled. “When I was a kid she was the librarian, always shushing me and my friends because we whispered too loudly. How can I help you? I'm Ann, by the way, not Gloria.”

“I'm Sam, and I guess I want the genealogy collection for Denkmann Township, red-bound, on the east wall.” She smiled.

“Actually, Hattie helped collect and organize the information on local families ages ago. I'm sure we have more details than you can find online. I'd ask Hattie for help, but she doesn't seem to be in the mood today. Do you have an idea of the years you want? Some of the families are in several books, depending on when they settled here and how long the descendants stayed around.”

“My great-grandparents were married in 1920 in Andover. Does that help?”

“It's a good start. Who were they, by the way?”