Around nine, just before Frankie was ready to take the stage, Chief Toleffson arrived with his wife Morgan, whose family had a part-ownership in one of the wineries outside town. Toleffson didn’t drink, as everybody in town knew by then, but his wife did. Tom wondered if she’d want wine, and if she did, whether she’d settle for the rotgut he’d been serving the lunch crowd. He really needed to start classing up the joint a little more.
Deirdre waited on them, moving swiftly between tables despite the obstacles presented by long Toleffson legs. Tom had wondered if she’d feel strange waiting on tables in front of her family, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Her face had that ethereal glow it took on when she was happy, as if she’d only just stepped down to earth temporarily, and would be heading back up to a nearby cloud any minute now.
Tom considered requesting “
Volver
”, but he decided to let Frankie do his thing. He wasn’t sure how the Toleffsons would react to Deirdre dirty dancing with the bartender anyway.
Belasco wore a fedora pushed forward onto his forehead and dark glasses, his silver ponytail bobbing in time to the music. He had the crowd on their feet within the first five minutes. His fingers danced over the keys of his accordion, coaxing out a combination of Tejano and Cajun, the spicy mix of Third Coast music.
At the outdoor bar, Tom loaded beers for Deirdre and Marilyn, along with the occasional mixed drink and even one or two glasses of wine, although he noticed few of the patrons took a second glass. Definitely time to move up. Chief Toleffson’s wife drank Coke, while the chief stuck with Dr. Pepper in between dances. Tom couldn’t say any of the Toleffsons were all that graceful when they danced, but they made up for it with enthusiasm, and their wives were apparently a very tolerant bunch.
Frankie watched them for a while, grinning as he goosed his accordion, then leaned to the microphone again. “I remember some of this crowd,” he said, “from the last Wine and Food Festival. First time my music ever made a woman go into labor. Here’s a little something in your honor.”
Docia Toleffson blushed bright pink in the beer garden lights, burying her face against her husband’s shoulder.
“
Jolie Blonde, ma chere ’tit fille
,” Frankie crooned.
The Toleffson table whooped with laughter, applauding lustily as Cal and Docia waltzed with the crowd.
Deirdre stepped up to the bar. “Dos Equis and three Coronas.”
Tom piled the bottles on her tray, then watched her deliver them to a nearby table. When she came back, he slipped around the bar, pulling her into his arms. Deirdre slid her hands around his neck, laughing as they circled the small area near Chico’s seat at the door. He watched them with drowsy eyes.
“
Jolie Blonde…
” Frankie sang.
Tom twirled her around again, feeling buoyed along by the music and the warm evening air. Maybe a quick visit to his house was called for. They could still go to Deirdre’s place tomorrow night.
Frankie swung into the last chorus, and Deirdre pushed away from him gently. “Got to make my rounds at the tables, boss. I need the tips.” She smiled at him, her eyes like stars in the light of the hanging lanterns.
Tom returned to his place behind the bar, watching her thread her way among the crowd. As he looked up, he was suddenly aware of several people staring his way. The Toleffson table seemed to have transferred their interest from Docia and Cal to him and Deirdre. And now to him alone.
Tom turned quickly to the margarita mixer, dipping a glass into the salt rimmer. When he looked up again, the Toleffsons seemed to have gone back to watching other people on the dance floor. He breathed a quick sigh of relief.
All the Toleffsons except one, that is. Docia Kent Toleffson was watching him with narrowed eyes, her forehead slightly furrowed until Deirdre handed her a bottle of beer. Docia glanced at her cousin and then back at him one more time, her lips spreading in a slow grin.
Well, hell.
Deirdre made one last check on her side of the beer garden. Belasco seemed to be wrapping up, which meant maybe one last round before the crowd began to drift away. She leaned over Cal Toleffson’s shoulder, placing his Dos Equis on the table in front of him.
Docia looked up at her, smiling. “You look like you’ve been doing that most of your life.”
Deirdre shrugged. “It’s not exactly rocket science. You get used to it pretty quickly.”
Docia’s grin widened. “I don’t know, kid, the Deirdre Brandenburg I knew a year ago might not have been able to do this nearly as well as you’re doing now.”
Deirdre frowned slightly. Was that a compliment?
Docia didn’t seem to notice. “Seems like ages since we’ve had a chance to talk. How about having lunch tomorrow?”
“Sorry—I work lunch on Saturdays. Maybe some other time.”
“Breakfast, then.” Docia gave her a level look. “We need to touch base.”
Deirdre took a deep breath. After all, she needed to ask Docia about a loan for the tables. Now would be as good a time as any. “Okay, sounds good. What time?”
“How about eight? We can meet at Sweet Thing and have some of Allie’s scones.” Her lips spread in a slow grin as her eyes flicked to Tom. “Unless that’s too early.”
Deirdre grinned back. “It’s fine with me. I’m not the one with a baby at home.”
Docia’s grin turned wry. “Yeah, well, I’ve given up sleeping for the time being. See you at eight, cuz.”
Chapter Seventeen
The last stragglers wandered out of the Faro at 2:00 a.m., which was the official closing time, although most nights people cleared out earlier. Frankie Belasco had apparently infected the crowd with his own shit-kicking attitude, and nobody wanted to leave.
Tom didn’t much want to leave either, unless it was with Deirdre. He watched her now, piling beer bottles on her tray to carry them to the kitchen. How could anybody look that good while hefting a tray full of empties above her shoulder? It defied logic.
Leon leaned back against the kitchen door to open it for her and was rewarded with a lesser version of that dazzling smile that made Tom’s pulse rate raise by five. He tried for a moment to remember what she’d looked like when she’d first walked into the Faro. A mouse. With a will of iron. But even then, he’d known there was a knockout underneath. Now he only had to figure out a way to hustle that knockout over to his place,
hustle
being the operative word.
Back from the kitchen, Deirdre climbed onto a barstool beside him, resting her elbows on the bar as she surveyed the main room. “I think that’s everything. The beer garden still needs to be picked up around the edges, but Leon said he’d do it tomorrow.”
Tom grimaced. “Since that’s his job, he’d better.”
She reached up to run her fingertip along the edge of his ear. “Don’t be a grouch. This was a great evening, and you know it. I’ve never seen so many people in here. We must have made a mint!”
He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her refer to the Faro that way before.
We.
Like she was part of it. He stared down at the bar rag clutched in his hand, trying to decide how he felt about that. First and foremost, the Faro was his place. But maybe he could share a little. “We did okay. Frankie takes a big cut, but he brings in the crowds.”
“He does that.” She pushed herself up, slowly, stretching her arms above her head. “I guess it’s time for me to go home.”
“You sure you want to? Doris misses you. Maybe you should drop by and reassure her.” He managed not to groan. At least she didn’t roll her eyes at him.
She turned, her lips curving up slightly at the ends. “Doris misses me? I didn’t think we’d gotten to know each other that well. I only met her last Sunday.”
“Oh yeah, definitely.” He tossed the bar rag beside the sink. “She’s really sensitive. For a lizard. Almost burst into tears when I came home without you the other night.”
The curve of her smile increased. “Well, I wouldn’t want Doris to suffer.”
He nodded. “You really wouldn’t want that. Might make her grumpy.”
“All right then.” Her voice dropped into the sultry range. “Let’s go see Doris.”
Tom blinked at her. Since when had she developed that smoldering look? Since when had she turned into a temptress? Since when had he gotten so lucky?
Only a fool asked questions like those. And whatever else he may have been, he definitely didn’t consider himself a fool. Lucky maybe, and certainly not deserving of anybody like Deirdre. But not a fool. “Let’s do that,” he said. Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he headed for the door.
The only way Deirdre managed to get to Sweet Thing by eight the next morning was to leave Tom’s house at seven. He hadn’t wanted her to go, and she hadn’t particularly wanted to either. But she had a feeling if she didn’t make it to breakfast, Docia might come looking for her, probably in the least convenient places.
She slouched back to the apartment for a quick shower and a change of clothes before she headed for the café. Docia would definitely notice if she wore the same T-shirt and jeans. She considered putting on her old khakis with one of her decorous knit shirts, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
They weren’t who she was anymore. And she liked who she was now.
When Deirdre walked in, Allie Maldonado was working the main counter in Sweet Thing, selling scones and muffins and pastries to a long line of customers. She nodded toward the back patio when she saw Deirdre. “She’s out there. I’ve already got you set up with coffee.”
Docia was sitting under a live oak, leaning back in an Adirondack chair with her eyes closed. For a moment, Deirdre felt slightly guilty—Docia should probably be sleeping at home, looking after her baby. Then she reminded herself it was Docia who’d set up this meeting, and besides she had just as much reason to be sleepy. Maybe more. She slid into the chair beside her cousin, yawning. “Morning.”
Docia opened one eye. “I guess it is. Whose crazy idea was this, anyway?”
“That would be you.” Deirdre poured a cup of coffee for herself from the pot on the table. There was also a plate of golden scones, probably peach. If she had to get up this early, at least she got to eat something wonderful to make up for it. She picked up one and bit off a corner.
“So.” Docia sighed. “How are things?”
Deirdre nibbled on her scone. “Gee, Dosh, if that’s all you want to know, you could have asked me last night so both of us could still be asleep. Things are fine.”
Docia nodded absently. “You like working at the Faro?”
“Sure. It’s easy. And the tips are good.”
“And Tom Ames?”
Deirdre kept her gaze on her plate. “He’s good too.”
“As a boss, you mean?”
“Of course. What else would I be talking about?” She ventured a quick glance at her cousin.
Docia was grinning widely.
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Deirdre sighed, picking up her coffee cup. “I’m almost twenty-five, Docia. It’s not like he’s my first boyfriend.”
“True. Of course, given your age, we were all concerned that you’d be an old maid. The family had almost despaired of you.” She was still grinning.
Deirdre gritted her teeth. “You may not be all that wrong as far as Daddy is concerned. I’m sure he was beginning to wonder.”
Docia’s grin faded. “Have you heard from him?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t expect to. He’s probably waiting for me to call him.” Or waiting for Craig to call him. After he’d reeled her in and sent her back to Houston.
“He won’t stay mad, Dee. You mean too much to him.”
“Let’s not talk about him. It’s his problem, not mine. And I don’t have much to say about it anymore.”
Docia blinked at her. “That’s very…mature of you.”
“You mean I wouldn’t have said that a couple of months ago.” Deirdre shrugged. “What can I say? Being on your own makes a difference. I know what I want now. And I’m going after it.”
“Dee, you’ve always been a strong woman. You just didn’t have to show it too often.”
“I don’t know how much I’m showing it now. But when it’s sink or swim, you learn how to paddle.” She took another quick swallow of coffee.
Time for a change of subject.
“So why was everybody laughing about Frankie singing
Jolie Blonde
last night?”
Docia’s face turned bright pink at the memory. “Last year at the Wine and Food Festival I was still pregnant. My water broke when Cal and I were dancing to
Jolie Blonde.
”
“And they were all there when it happened—all the Toleffsons?” Deirdre didn’t know whether to be amused or appalled. Some of both, actually.
“Oh yeah. And they all came to the hospital with me, except for Jess because she had to look after the kids. Then they brought her and the kids along later, after Rolf was born. You never do things alone when you’re part of the Toleffson family. Which has its good and bad points.”
Deirdre smiled, thinking how nice it would be to be part of a large family group. The Brandenburgs didn’t quite have the same heft. And besides, the only time she saw most of them was at weddings and funerals.
“Erik likes Tom Ames.” Docia munched on a golden scone. “So does Lars. I don’t think Cal really knows him. They all say he’s sort of mysterious, though.”
Deirdre frowned. So they were heading back into her business again. “Mysterious how?”
“Well, nobody knows how he came to have the Faro, for one thing. I mean, one day Kip Berenger owned it and nobody knew he wanted to sell. And then all of a sudden Tom Ames was in charge. And nobody knows where he was before he took over the Faro or what he was doing. Or even where he was from originally. He’s not local, but that’s about all anyone knows about him.”
Deirdre opened her mouth to fill in the blanks, and then closed it again. She didn’t know for sure how Tom would feel about sharing his history with Konigsburg. And it was his history to share, not hers. “He doesn’t seem mysterious to me. He’s a nice guy.”
Docia grinned again. “That’s good, sweetie. That’s all that matters, I guess.” She took another swallow of coffee, closing her eyes in the morning sunshine. “So you’re settling in, working on your shop, earning big tips. Did you finally buy some furniture, or do I have to start ransacking attics?”