Losing Penny (17 page)

“How long is mom going to stay here?” Drake
asked.

“How the hell should I know?” his dad
bellowed.

“Do you know what the Dow is doing
today?”

For a moment Drake heard the crashing waves
and crying gulls, but not a sound from his dad. Drake continued, “I
just think that if you take the time to know what’s happening with
the markets, you should take the time to know what’s happening with
your wife.”

Drake had the last word, but it didn’t feel
as good as it should. With slumped shoulders, he hung up and
returned to the house. Stopping on the back porch, he listened to
Penny and his mom and watched them through the window. Penny,
dressed in her cutoff T-shirt and jean shorts, had her laptop open
and was reading off the Internet.

“It says here that even getting less than six
hours of sleep a night increases your risk of heart disease,
stroke, and viral infections.” Penny had morning hair and wore no
make-up, and Drake thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d
ever seen.

“Did you know that more people die from lack
of sleep than from lack of food?” Penny asked.

“Can that be true?” Mia sliced a banana into
the oatmeal.

Drake was not about to eat a warm banana. He
felt uncomfortable about Penny and his mom spending so much time
together, preparing his food, and trying treat his insomnia. He
loved his mom, but his feelings for Penny were not as easy to
define. She made him laugh. He liked living with her. He liked
having her around. He liked lying beside her in the night, talking
to her as she fell asleep, listening to her quiet, rhythmic breath.
And heaven help him, he liked kissing her, if that brief—too
brief—moment in the moonlight could be called a kiss.

He wanted to do it again. He had made a mess
of most of his meaningful relationships—his dad, Blair,
Magdalena—and he didn’t want to mess things up with Penny. Yet by
kissing her, Drake felt like he already had messed thing up. Their
easy camaraderie had disappeared the moment he’d taken her into his
arms. A kiss that couldn’t be unkissed.

“Drake? Is that you, honey?” his mom called,
making Drake feel like he was four years old again.

He straightened his shoulders and headed for
the kitchen.

He would take his oatmeal like Bad Dog
Bowser.

***

Drake was midway through his breakfast when
Trevor knocked on the door. Wolfgang, who had been lounging at
Drake’s feet, bolted up and barked.

“That’s annoying,” Mia said, frowning into
her cup of tea.

Not as annoying as Trevor Marx. “He’s a
watchdog, Mom,” Drake said, motioning through the window for Trevor
to come in. “He’s just doing his job.”

Wolfgang rose to his feet, growling low and
deep as Trevor entered the room.

“This dog does not like me,” Trevor
complained.

He’s not the only one. Drake looked at his
watch—two more hours until lunch at the club. What was Trevor doing
here?

“Here, boy,” Trevor coaxed, holding out his
hand for the dog to sniff.

Wolfgang sat down, placing his bottom on the
top of Drake’s running shoe, his tail smacking Drake’s shin. He
growled again.

Trevor shook his head. “What did you do to
win him over?”

Drake smiled and shook his head. “Animal
magnetism, I guess.”

“Furry friends flock together,” Penny said,
limping down the stairs.

Drake’s spoon paused over his oatmeal. “Are
you going out with
him
?”

“See, he is part watchdog!” Penny laughed and
sat down on the sofa to put on one shoe; she left the other foot in
a sock.

“You don’t mind, right? You
are
divorced.” Trevor said. It sounded like a half question half
statement.

“How can he mind? He’s going out with your
sister,” Mia spoke up.

Geez, thank you, Mom.

Wolfgang growled and Drake suppressed his
own.

“Now, where are you two headed?” Mia
asked.

“I’m going to show her the town,” Trevor
said, holding out his hand to Penny.

Drake had a hard time swallowing his oatmeal
as he watched Trevor hand Penny her cane. He chased it down with a
slug of orange juice and nearly choked when Penny mentioned the
Bluebird Café.

He felt her eyes on him as he coughed. The
juice burned the back of his throat.

“What is it about that place? Can it be so
horrible?” Penny asked.

“His old girlfriend used to work there,” Mia
said.

Again, thank you, Mom.

“Oh,” Penny said, comprehension dawning. “You
don’t want me to meet Blair?”

Drake shook his head. “It’s not that…anyway,
I think she’s in Aruba.”

Penny frowned at him then took Trevor’s arm.
“Have fun at the club,” she said.

Wolfgang barked three times as Penny and
Trevor disappeared through the door.

Your mother was right: Breakfast really is
the most important meal of the day. Not only does it give you
energy to start a new day, but breakfast is linked to many health
benefits including weight control and improved concentration and
performance.

From
Losing Penny and Pounds

Why didn’t Drake
want her to meet Blair? Thinking about Blair gave Penny a sick,
sinking feeling in her belly and an acidic taste in the back of her
throat. Remembering that she hadn’t eaten, she asked, “Does the
Bluebird serve breakfast?”

Trevor scratched his head as he pointed the
car toward town. “I’ve never eaten there.”

“Really? There are only two choices in town
and you avoid one of them?”

“That’s not true,” Trevor said, driving over
the narrow bridge that crossed the Chebar. “There’s the bakery, and
really, it’s so good that it’s amazing that anyone would ever
choose to eat anywhere else.”

“Baked goods for every meal? No protein or
vegetables?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s protein in cream
puffs.”

“Maybe one protein gram in each 100 calorie
bite,” Penny murmured as they pulled up to the first of the three
stoplights in town.

Other than the other night when she’d come
into town with Drake, she hadn’t been to Rose Arbor in years. When
she was with Drake, he seemed to take all of her attention.
Everything and everyone was strictly peripheral when he was around.
Now, without him, she was able to see the town and measure its
changes. The trees in the green were taller. A couple of
storefronts needed paint. Grass sprouted between sidewalk
cracks.

Trevor looked over at her as he parked the
Porsche. “It never changes. It still looks the same as when we were
kids.”

Penny gave him a startled look. Had he
remembered her after all?

“That’s what Melinda always says—some things
never change,” he said.

Penny exhaled slowly. The “we” meant him and
Melinda. She paused with her hand on the door and wondered why she
trusted Drake more than she trusted Trevor with her secret.Trevor
came to help her from the car. He was saying something, but Penny’s
thoughts were scrambled as she tried to forget Drake and focus on
Trevor.

He was extolling the virtues of apple
fritters. Penny’s mind calculated the breaded chopped apple fried
in hot oil. Four hundred to eight hundred calories. Oh, dear
heaven, no. Especially since she couldn’t run with the gash on her
foot. “Maybe just the apple.”

“Oh come on, what kind of glutton girl are
you?”

Penny’s previously warm feelings toward
Trevor chilled.

He looked at her face and caught his mistake.
“I bet they have bagels and coffee.”

A bagel had about three hundred calories.
Better than a fritter, but not by much. When they stopped in front
of Neilson’s bakery, she seriously doubted if anything in the glass
case was less than five hundred calories, one third of her daily
allowance.

“Let’s just go to the Bluebird,” Penny
suggested.

“Are you sure?” Trevor asked. “They get all
their baked goods from the bakery.”

“I thought you hadn’t been there before.”
Penny limped away from the bakery and the delicious smell seeping
through the window.

“I haven’t. I make it a rule never to eat
anywhere with a neon sign.”

Penny rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” Trevor admitted, “I know it’s a
stupid standard, but at least I have one.”

She laughed. “Just one?”

He shrugged. “How many standards do you need?
They just get in the way.”

Penny stopped in front of the Bluebird café.
“Are you telling me that if this café changed its sign then you
would eat here?”

“Maybe once.”

“Come on,” she said, pushing through the
door. “Let me lead you astray.”

He shuffled his feet. “I only have one
standard. It seems a pity to lower it for a day-old bagel.”

“Fine, don’t eat. You can watch me.”

His shoulders sagged. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m not sure that standards and fun are
synonymous.”

“True.” He held the door open for her, but
she stopped in front of a flier taped on the window.

“Look—it’s The Frontier Days celebration! I’d
completely forgotten about that!”

“Oh yeah,” Trevor said with much less
enthusiasm. “Hospital bed races, pie eating contests, and all
that.”

“Donkey basketball!”

“The overweight mayor and senior citizen city
council members take on the equally chubby school board perched on
uncooperative donkeys passing balls…pooping balls.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Stop it. I
love Frontier Days.”

He looked at her sharply. “I thought this was
your first time in Rose Arbor?”

“I mean, I love small town celebrations. I
haven’t been to Rose Arbor’s, of course, but I have to go.” She
pointed to the flyer, resting her finger on the information on the
donkey basketball game.

Trevor sighed. “Can we get coffee first?”

“And cocoa.” Penny nodded. She half expected
to see a Norman Rockwellesque 50s couple sitting at the bar,
sharing a milk shake.

“Cute,” Trevor said, settling into the booth
and eyeing the vintage decor. It didn’t sound like a
compliment.

Penny flipped open the menu. She scanned the
breakfast items before settling on a banana and yogurt.

A blonde bounced over. “Hey, I’m Megan. Can I
take your order?”

But Penny wasn’t looking at Megan, she was
looking at Andrea, sniffing over the pancakes and sausage sizzling
on the grill. An idea struck.

After Megan took their orders, Penny leaned
over the table and whispered to Trevor. “We can help her, you
know.”

Trevor looked around. “Who? The blonde?”

“No.” Penny jerked her head at Andrea.

“What? Why?”

“Because being helpful is one of my
standards.” She paused. “You do know that’s why we came here,
right? To see if we could help her café.”

“
We
came here, but only
you
came to help,” Trevor shot Andrea another look. “
I
am merely
your transportation.”

Penny pressed her lips together when Megan
returned with cocoa and coffee. “It’s nice to be heroic and save
crying damsels,” Penny told him, blowing into her cocoa.

“We don’t even know why she’s crying.” Trevor
frowned into his coffee.

“Yes, we do. Remember?”

“Something about a hateful cracker.”

“And the failing café,” Penny reminded him.
“We can’t do anything about the cracker guy, but we can help her
business.”

Trevor looked relieved, and Penny wondered if
he’d thought she wanted him to woo Andrea. She looked back at the
grill. Andrea, without red eyes and a puffy nose, would be pretty.
She glanced back at Trevor and guessed that he felt
differently.

“You want to lend her money?” Trevor asked,
somewhat stiffly.

“That’s not what I was thinking.” She braced
her elbows on the table and outlined her plan.

***

“But I don’t know how to cater,” Andrea said,
clearly overwhelmed by Penny’s enthusiasm.

“Its super easy—and it’ll be fun!”

“Fun…” Andrea looked doubtful.

“And I
need
your help.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows. “Honesty is not
one of your standards?”

Penny shushed him.

Andrea’s gaze went from Penny to Trevor then
back to Penny. “You
don’t
need my help?”

“Of course I do. If I’m going to cater a
party I’ll need all the help I can get. And it’s obvious you know
how to cook.”

“Hamburgers,” Andrea said woodenly.

“And pancakes and probably a lot of other
tasties,” Penny said.

Trevor tried to hide his smirk as he sipped
his coffee.

Andrea ran her fingers through her hair. “I
suppose I could try. I do need the money.”

“And it will be good marketing for the
café.”

“It will?” Andrea’s voice squeaked. “How will
anyone know about my café?”

“Because we’ll have fliers with your menu on
them.”

Andrea looked confused. “I have a menu?”

Penny waved her hand to demonstrate the café
Vanna White style. “Of course you do.”

Andrea shook her head. “People really aren’t
all that interested in hamburgers and fries, especially not at
parties at the Marx’s place.” Andrea’s eyes lit up as if she’d just
discovered a universal truth. “People aren’t all that interested in
hamburgers,” she whispered.

Penny smiled as she filled Andrea in on the
details that she made up only slightly faster than she talked.

After Andrea returned to her place behind the
grill, Trevor bit into his pancake. “And when are you going to tell
my sister that she’s hosting a birthday party for your
husband?”

“My ex-husband,” Penny whispered. “She’ll be
thrilled to do this for Drake. Just watch.”

Trevor shrugged and looked skeptical. “Why
are we doing this?”