Authors: Christa Maurice
“Like box lunches on the hikes,” Ida added from the counter, the incorrigible eavesdropper.
“Just like that. Even the school is participating now,” Mom continued.
“The school is participating?” Cass asked. This should alarm her but she didn’t know how to carry on any coherent conversation with Jason playing footsie with her under the table. He gave her a sly little smile.
“I nudged them a little,” Mom said.
“You nudged them how much?” Jason’s other foot joined the dance, cradling her left foot between both of his. He seemed so good at this. A chill she couldn’t attribute to the cold passed through her. He’d practiced this. He was famous and he’d seduced far more experienced women than her.
“Just a little.” Her mother preened. “I know how you want to build that new building next summer so you’ll need to be booked solid all summer, and if you have lots of events going on, you’ll be booked.”
“Lots of events?” Between trying not to think about what Jason was doing and how he’d gotten so good at it, she needed to cling to the subject at hand with both clenched fists.
“Well, some.” Her mom bit her lip and looked at the table. “You haven’t been to Sue’s yet?”
“No. Am I going to be surprised?”
Mom gave her a smile, eyes sparkling. “Well, you might.”
“Is it going to be a good surprise or a bad surprise?” Cass asked.
Shirl stared into her bowl. “I didn’t know you could make chili without tomatoes. I wonder if Paul will give me the recipe.”
Her dad snorted then gave Cass an apologetic look. Well, there was the answer. When she’d been growing up he’d often said, “Nothing stops your mother when she gets a-going. Best just to get out of the way.” Jason seemed to share her mother’s determination, judging by the expertise with which he manipulated her foot under the table. She was the goal, and whether she wanted it or not, his determination raised her body temperature.
Cass looked at the table. She had never even managed a nightmare this bad. Exactly how much worse could this get?
“Hello, Cassie,” Melinda said. Crap.
She met Jason’s eyes. He was watching her. She dragged her gaze away and ended up looking at her mother, who also observed her, but for a different reason. Her ESP must have kicked in. Her father consumed his chili like Paul might take it away before he finished. By the time Cass got to the end of the table, Melinda was shuffling from foot to foot, wringing her hands.
Cass thought her head might explode. “Hi.”
“Everything okay?” Melinda bit her lip.
Okay? Unlikely. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like, but her mother shifted like a toddler with a hand still in the cookie jar and her father wouldn’t take his eyes off the chili bowl. Ida had a world-winning smirk on her face, while Jason grinned like the cat who’d found the cream. “Sure. Great.”
“Oh.” The well-worn crease in Melinda’s forehead deepened as she continued. “Dan will be happy to hear that. He said he didn’t see you over Christmas. He thought you were mad at him.”
Cass looked across the table for some confirmation of the insanity of her situation and found Jason, part of the insanity, still watching her. He moved his feet, reminding her that he still had her foot. She turned back to Melinda before her head did explode. “I’m sorry. I did miss him over his break. I had to get back up the mountain early because I had a winter guest coming. Melinda, this is my guest. Jason, this is Melinda Pierce. Her son Dan works for me in the summer.”
“A pleasure.” Melinda nodded and turned back to Cass. She had bigger fish to fry than meeting the visiting rock star. “So you’re not mad at him?”
“Why would I be mad at him?” At the moment, she couldn’t even remember what Dan looked like, let alone what he might have done to make her angry.
“He just really likes that job and wants to come back next summer.”
“Isn’t Dan graduating this spring?” Ida asked.
“He is, but he does want to have one more summer at the campground before he gets a real job.” Melinda looked like she might start pleading if Cass didn’t say something quick.
Paul came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of dishes. “Hello, Melinda. Are you joining the party?” He set the tray on a neighboring table.
“No, I—”
“She wants to know if Dan still has a job at the campground this summer,” Ida explained.
“Of course he does, if that’s what he wants. Isn’t that right, Cassie?” Paul put a plate in front of her. Tamales, beans, salsa and ramekins of corn pudding.
“Of course.” When had she lost control of her business? Her mother ran it, Paul ran it, and now the local school system, with her mother’s encouragement, seemed poised to take a cut of the operations. She just showed up May first and smiled for six months. This must be how it felt to live in a soap opera. Someone handed out script pages and the actors did their thing.
“Besides, Melinda, if she’s a good girl, she might need somebody to run the place full time,” Paul said, serving plates to Jason then Cass’s parents.
“What?” she nearly squeaked. Did they think she was going to run away with Jason? That idea appealed, even if it was complete fantasy.
Jason was watching her with a less devilish expression than a moment ago. And, he’d stopped dandling her foot. He still had more control over it than she did, but wasn’t wielding that power now.
He smiled at her and gestured with his fork. “It’s good,” he murmured.
It felt like he’d whispered in her ear. Heat crawled up her cheeks to her hairline.
His smile turned dark and he winked at her.
The bell over the door rang, and as the crowd turned to see who’d walked in, she caught a glimpse of Finn arriving. Now the madness was complete.
“Bill Wernick is talking about selling that property that adjoins yours,” Paul continued, seeming oblivious to what took place inside their booth. “It would almost double your grounds. You’d need somebody up there full time to help you then. You really need to call me, little girl.”
“Bill wants to sell his high pasture?” her father asked, setting down his spoon. His eyes glazed with longing. “It’s a beautiful piece of land, Cassie. There’s that high valley up there with the pond and the waterfall.”
“I’ll talk to Bill about it,” she said before her father could start waxing poetic about the land. He knew the mountain like no one else, and had taken her all over it when she was a child. High up and commanding a view of the valley, that land would be a great place for more cabins and tents below, but she’d have to look at her insurance and find out what his price was. Her rec hall would have to wait another year at least.
“So you think you might be able to hire Dan full time?” Melinda asked.
“Let’s not get our hopes up yet.”
“About what?” Finn asked, stopping at the edge of the table. He glowered at Jason in what amounted to a challenge, but Jason was too busy scraping the last of the corn pudding out of its ramekin to notice there’d been one issued.
Then Jason twitched one foot and looked at her through his eyelashes. The motion so startled Cass, her finger slipped off her fork and plunged into her refried beans. He’d noticed the challenge and blew it off. Someone must have given him the script pages with the background story, and he knew he had nothing to worry about from Finn’s direction.
“Cass might buy Bill Wernick’s high pasture,” Paul told him.
“You should talk to me about these things before you make a decision, Cass. I am your accountant,” Finn whined. He must have noticed his challenge had been dismissed, too.
Cass tried not to flinch at the possessive way Finn spoke to her and opened her mouth to snap that she’d just heard about it.
“Paul, this is excellent,” Jason cut her off, announcing over everyone else. “I haven’t eaten this well since the last time I was in Europe. Thank you.”
“Oh, well, it was nothing.” Paul turned a shade of red that competed with Ida’s hair for wattage.
Cass stuck her thumb in her mouth to clean it off, hoping no one would expect her to speak. However, if she needed to intervene she would have food in her mouth and wouldn’t be able to. Decisions, decisions. Jason watched her draw her thumb out of her mouth the way he might watch the first day of creation. His hand tightened around his fork, and he licked his lips. Oh dear.
“What’s the matter, swee’pea?” Dad asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “My thumb slipped.”
“Are you going to buy this land, Cass?” Finn demanded.
“Paul,” her mom asked, “could you find it in your heart to give me the recipe for that chili?”
“Well, if he gives all his recipes away, why would anyone bother to eat here?” Ida retorted.
Cass resorted to wiping the rest of the refried beans off her thumb with her paper napkin so she could observe the rest of the table for signs they had picked up on the interchange between her and Jason a second ago. Paul’s gaze turned from her to Jason, innocently devouring his lunch. Two and two were rapidly becoming five, possibly six. Paul was a great cook and an excellent mathematician when it came to human algebra.
“Cass?” Finn demanded again.
“Oh, Finn, leave it alone.” Paul elbowed him. “You know, Shirl, it isn’t that hard if you have the right cilantro.”
Paul started talking about the food. He must have picked up on her discomfort. Maybe she could speak with him about Jason flirting with her. Ugh, bad. Paul made an excellent information hub but a lousy confidante. Her father and Finn debated her ability to buy and improve the pasture with her current income stream. Finn was against it, felt she couldn’t take the financial risk. Her father, in a typical knee-jerk reaction, thought she could if they were careful. He’d never been very fond of Finn. Maybe that had something to do with her lack of interest. Melinda asked polite and pointed questions, trying to ascertain the added workload the extra land would entail. She would be for anything that might keep her son in town.
“Well, the other customers are getting jealous,” Ida said eventually, and wandered off. Melinda left behind her, seeming confident about Dan having a summer job and potentially a permanent one right here in town. Paul had meals to cook. Beneath the pressure of her father’s barrage, Finn took his Wednesday turkey and Swiss on rye back to his office to eat.
There. Now she could breathe normally. She returned to the conversation. Her parents were talking to Jason. Actually, her father and Jason were discussing cars. Safe enough, so she let it go.
Cass finished her meal. Jason had not recommenced playing footsie since she’d stuck her thumb in the beans, but neither had he relinquished his hold. Paul delivered the recipe to her mother, gave Cass one long significant look and vanished into the kitchen. Based on the way Mom had focused on the recipe, she apparently thought she would have to memorize it and eat the card before she left the building. Hah! Everyone else might believe her mother was studying the recipe. She was really studying Jason.
“So is everyone full?” Ida asked, coffeepot in hand.
“Yes, it was excellent,” Jason said. “My compliments to the chef.”
“Oh, don’t you dare. His head’s already big enough.” Ida cackled.
“I’ll take the bill,” he told her.
Mom and Dad objected, and Ida over rode them. “There’s no bill.”
“Really?” Cass asked.
“Are you kiddin’? This was an excellent opportunity to suss out what else that boy can make.” Ida grinned. “We might be having us a Spanish special one of these nights. The tourists’ll love it.”
Dad stood and grabbed her mom’s hand. “Well, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Nice meeting you, Jason.” He pulled Cass into a bear hug and used the opportunity to whisper into her ear, “Nice boy.”
Mom held out her hand to shake Jason’s and when he kissed it instead, giggled like a girl. Still giggling, she hugged Cass. As Mom stepped back, a blush brightened her cheeks. Dad helped Mom into her coat. Cass turned back to pick up hers and found Jason already holding it open for her. Over the collar and past Jason’s arm, she saw Paul simpering from the kitchen door before she turned to step into it. As she adjusted it around her shoulders, Jason scooped her hair out of the collar. The backs of his fingers brushed her neck. She had to bite back a moan of pleasure. The outward ripples of delight threatened to roll her eyes back in her head an instant before they nearly unhinged her knees. She kept her expression neutral through force of will, but her mother’s gaze sharpened on her face anyway. It was hopeless.
“When I’m done, I’ll come help you.” The cold wind sliced through her. She hugged herself, trying to get a little more coverage out of the inadequate coat. The cold at least encouraged her parents to hurry home.
“I still don’t know what to buy,” Jason protested. “Why don’t I go with you, and when you’re done, we can do my shopping together?”
Stars and birds should be circling her head from the cartoon anvil that just fell on it, but she refrained from looking. She needed a few minutes away from the too tempting Mr. Callisto to get her head back on straight.
But her father approved of him. Dad, who disapproved of the accountant, thought the rock star was dandy.
Her father must be getting senile.
“No, I just have a couple of quick stops anyway.” She unlocked her truck and grabbed the box of mail on the seat. “Look for stuff you can eat without cooking, or heat and eat. I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Jason shifted from foot to foot beside the truck like he was being abandoned.
Cass shut her door and set off for the post office with her box, not looking back to check if he was watching her.
The town commercial district consisted of two blocks along the imaginatively named Main Street, with lesser businesses off Maple, Pine and Willow avenues. Apart from the cars parked on the street, it looked like a movie set for the Depression. The town hall sat at the center of town with a statue of a Civil War hero on his horse in front of it. Every year the high school graduating class pulled a prank involving the statue. Last year they’d dressed the poor man in a flowered dress and straw hat. Cass’s class had mummified him and his horse in torn sheets.