Stef Ann Holm (16 page)

“I won’t keep you,” Lucy immediately replied. “I’m done now anyway and I’ll just—”

A cell phone rang—more like played a song that was familiar to Lucy; every radio station was airing it. “Since You’ve Been Gone” filled the kitchen, and Drew about took a header to answer that phone.

Lucy glanced at Jacquie, who glanced at her, then the two women settled their unwavering gazes on Drew. Perhaps they were both thinking they’d been fools to fall for a man like him, who kept women on a string like fishermen kept the catch of the day on lines. Neither said a word as he answered.

Neither cared to examine the gamut of emotions that rattled to life within her heart.

“Hello?” Drew answered the phone, forgetting about the two women in his kitchen.

“Hi, it’s me. It’s Mackenzie.”

He knew who “me” was. She didn’t have to say Mackenzie. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m okay.”

Drew didn’t want to smother her. He’d rather she take the lead, talk at her leisure, tell him why she’d called. Surprised didn’t begin to describe his reaction. It was more like relieved. He’d been hoping she’d use the phone he sent her. And to call him.

“Just okay?” he finally said, unable to keep silent.

The line was dead a moment, and he thought he might have lost her. “Hello?”

“I want to come spend the summer with you.”

His daughter’s voice sounded far-off, tired. Sad. But none of that immediately registered. All he heard was she wanted to come see him.

Drew didn’t even ask why she’d changed her mind. He didn’t want to know, didn’t care. The fact was she wanted to come.

“I want to be there as soon as I can,” Mackenzie said, a waver in her tone. “Please.”

“All right. We’ll get it all arranged. I’ll take care of it. I can’t wait to see you.”

After a few minutes talking with his daughter, he disconnected the call.

He exhaled softly, grinning so widely he couldn’t stop it if he’d wanted to. Looking up, he realized he wasn’t alone. He’d forgotten about Jacquie and Lucy.

The two of them—so different from one another—stared at him and he couldn’t guess their thoughts.

Funny how the women in Drew’s life had a strange way of all being there at the same time.

J
ason delivered his mom’s food to the Sunrise Trail Creek old people home. This was his third trip here and he thought it smelled like mold and something dying or dead.

He didn’t like this place.

His mom had dropped him off and he had to stay and help in the kitchen. He thought they would have their own cooks for this sort of thing, so why his mom was volunteering to provide food he didn’t know. The residents liked his mom. They smiled when she came in.

Momentarily, he wondered just how many people lived here. When he got old, he didn’t want to live in a place like this where it smelled gross—like B.O. and medicine combined.

Maybe it wasn’t
that
bad, but he just didn’t want to be here. When he turned eighteen, he was so moving back to Boise.

Little League ate up a lot of his day. And since starting “work” at the Sunrise, he had no time to himself. He’d also got that busboy job at Woolly Burgers. That one, he didn’t mind. It was cash-o-lah in his pocket. He worked there four days a week, and had to come here a couple times a week.

He had no effing life. That made his mom happy.

At least he was definitely trying. He hadn’t been smoking any dope. When he was done with work, he waited for his mom to pick him up and take him home. Too tired from being at baseball, Woolly’s and here, he didn’t have the energy to track down the local supplier.

If only he could get out of doing this food delivery for his mom. It was really not something he could get used to. Old people freaked him out.

Not his grandma and grandpa, though. They were cool. When he and Matt and Mom had lived in Boise, Grandpa and Grandma would drive their motor home to visit them and park it in the front yard. They’d hook up to the electric, and he and Matt got to stay with them overnight. It was like camping on their block. Jason missed their old house and everyone in the neighborhood. The skateboard ramp, the basketball hoop in the driveway and his old school.

Red Duck was a po-dunk town.

After Jason finished in the kitchen he wandered out front to wait for his mom. When the receptionist saw him, she waved him over.

“Jason, your mother called.” The lady had big hair and pink fingernails. “She’s running late and said for you to sit tight and she’ll be here as soon as she can.”

Frowning, Jason stuffed his hands into his pockets and went to look out the front window. The only thing that kept him from losing it was the fact that this volunteer stuff she was making him do would pay off and get him his truck back.

He waited until he got bored, then wandered out the doors and onto the porch that ran around the building. The heat outside felt good after being in the AC. Following the cement walk along the side, where a bunch of flowers grew, he held back when he saw a woman crying. And pretty hard.

She was with another lady. He knew who she was. Her name was Spin. She’d been featured on the television for living to be over a hundred years old without croaking.

When the tall, crying lady turned, Jason recognized her from that day in Opal’s when they had just arrived in town. He couldn’t remember her name. She was Drew’s girlfriend. Or something. Jason had seen her with him before.

She was kind of pretty, but she wore a lot of makeup. Black stuff smudged beneath her eyes. She had a tissue and she blew her nose, then said a four-letter word he’d never heard an adult say. At least his mom had never used it.

Jason inched closer, hiding behind a potted fern on the porch.

“That bastard is already taking up with two women before the sheets have even cooled down.” The woman sniffled into her Kleenex, her shoulders slumped. “I mean, I know I was the one who screwed up, but still. For chrissake…”

Spin stood pretty tall for someone over a hundred. Confusion about her name gave him pause. It made him think of the spin cycle on his mom’s washing machine, and he couldn’t figure out why someone would name their kid after a washing machine.

Spin put her arm around Drew’s girlfriend. “Jacquie, you’ve got to knock this shit off. First of all, it takes two to blame, so you are not the only guilty party. And second of all, the man isn’t worth it.”

Jacquie’s chin lifted. “How do you know? Sex is worth a lot, Spin. Forgive me, but you probably don’t remember what it’s like.”

“Oh, hell yes, I do. Wally and I went at it all the time.”

Jason grimaced. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. The visual made him a little queasy. He knew exactly what sex was. Brian, his friend in Boise, had a porno DVD they got from a kid at school and they’d watched it. Gross. Awkward watching that stuff with another dude. They had only lasted about five minutes before turning it off and saying it was sick. But Jason had thought about what he’d seen.

Sex was kind of weird. He’d had thoughts about what it might feel like, but actually doing it…no way. He’d never even had a girlfriend.

“But, Spin,” Jacquie said, “that was a long time ago. You had a love of your life. I thought Drew was mine. I mean—” she started to cry again “—I miss him. I miss how we were.”

Jason figured he’d heard enough. He wasn’t interested in the problems of adults. He had enough of his own.

Jacquie continued as he started to turn, and then he stopped.

“I…I never thought I’d be such a pussy about it. But when I found Lucy at his house—it really hurt me.”

Lucy?

Jason knew his mom had started cooking for Drew Tolman. She’d told them it was going to help her establish her business here. Jason hadn’t thought much about it. His mom cooked for people. That was her job. How come Jacquie was mad about it?

Spin faced the duck pond and her bony hands gripped on the railing as she stared at the water. “You know what I think? I think you need to give up men for a while. Stop using sex to get your way. Value yourself, Jacquie.”

Gasping, Jacquie acted as if Spin had suggested she jump into the pond with the ducks. “Give up men?”

“Yes. You need to discover who you are without a man. Learn to live alone.”

“I can’t!” Jacquie fumbled with the opening of her purse and came up with a pack of cigarettes. Casting a quick look over her shoulder through the recreational room window to see if anyone was looking, she put a smoke between her lips and lit it.

The smell of burning tobacco drifted to Jason, making his nose tickle.

“Have you ever tried?” Spin asked, her voice sounding tired.

“Well…not really. I mean, I didn’t have a boyfriend in grade school. Maybe not through the fifth grade. But then in the sixth, I had one.” Jacquie grew thoughtful. “And in junior high. Through high school. Of course I had a boyfriend,” she insisted, as if she needed to verify that. “What woman doesn’t need one?”

“You don’t.”

“You’re wrong, Spin. I do.”

“No. You just think you do.” Spin moved to one of the chairs and sat down.

Jason had to hop a few feet back or he’d be spotted spying on them. Unfortunately, when he did that, the fern wobbled in its pot and he had to reach out and prevent it from toppling. When he did so, he gave a little yelp. Busted.

Jacquie came right for him. “Hey, you!”

Jason was going to bolt, but he had no place to go. So he put on a defiant stance. “Yeah, what?”

“How long were you standing there?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were listening!” she accused, then she narrowed her gaze, reading him like a book. “You’re Lucy’s son.”

“So?”

She didn’t say anything else about his mom and he was glad. He might have had some issues at home sometimes—maybe a lot lately—but he loved his family. She was a good mom. What Gary did to her sucked and it was wrong and she was doing the best she could.

In that moment, Jason wished that back in Boise he’d said he was sorry to his mom for all the crap he’d given her. He had said, “Sorry,” but it wasn’t something he’d really felt. Now he did mean it.

“You’re that young man who delivers the food.” Spin gave him a long look. “I had some of it today…and nothing came up on me.”

He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but he figured she was meaning she hadn’t puked or something. Gross.

Jason didn’t feel like being razzed so he said, “I gotta go.”

He walked away, the scent of cigarette smoke following him on his clothes, his skin. Great, this was all he effing needed. His mom was going to think he’d been smoking.

Once he got to the front of the Sunrise, he saw his mom’s car pulling up. When he got inside, he was relieved she didn’t ask him if he’d had a cigarette.

Her radio was playing and she was in a good mood.

“Guess what?” she said, smiling and not waiting for him to ask. “I got another client! Now I have two people to cook for.”

“That’s cool, Mom.”

She told him about it and he listened, watching the smile on her face. When she was done, she looked at him.

“What?”

“Nuttin’.”

Her brows rose and she smiled once more. He felt like crying, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“Mom…I’m sorry.”

That’s all he had to say. She knew.

When she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek at a stoplight, he had a really hard time holding back his tears.

He loved her and he was glad she was his mom.

“I
f it’s got tits or wheels, sooner or later it’s going to give you trouble.” The mayor of the dock, Lloyd Zaragoza, was on his third Bud and feeling quite profound.

“C’hew got that right.”

Lloyd, Raul and Opal sat at one of the high bar tables at the High Country.

Opal took exception. “I beg your pardon. I ain’t never given a man trouble.” She thought for a moment about Sheriff Roger Lewis. Several years back she could have sworn he had a thing for her, but he’d never acted on it so she’d ignored him. Time had passed and the both of them had become involved with different people. Opal had nobody special in her life at the moment and she wondered if Roger was seeing anyone.

She hadn’t heard any gossip, and surely she would have heard some at the counter of the diner. The early birds slung more loose-lipped talk than she cooked hash specials.

“Present company excluded,” Raul said, sipping a bloody Mary. “I’m talking about that Lucy Carpenters.”

“Carpenter,” Lloyd corrected. “The Carpenters was a musical group.”

“C’hew making fun of the Raul’s accent?”

“Oh, hell, Raul,” Lloyd snorted. “Don’t go acting like you’ve got a couple French fries short of a Happy Meal. Get a grip. I was only making a casual comment.”

Raul’s hair gleamed from pomade, reflections from the slow-moving disco ball glittering across its smooth black surface. He felt as if he was coming down with some sickness. His stomach roiled from the tomato juice he drank. He worried his thumbs.

“That Lucy Carpenters got a client today,” he said aloud, the words souring his already aggravated belly. “Did anyone hear about her sample menu?”

The sparse details annoyed Raul’s stomach even further. He didn’t lack for confidence, but if she got one client, she might get another….

“Why would we know that?” Opal asked.

Furrowing his brow, Raul said, “This town is like a gossip ship. Information lands in all ports—from the hotel bars to the ice cream parlor.”

“I haven’t heard,” Lloyd commented.

Raul pursed his full lips glumly, trying to figure a way out of the creative slump he felt himself slipping into. This was totally unlike him to let a newcomer worry him.

Then a brilliant idea hit! Like an explosion of flavors on his tongue, he tasted victory. “I know what to do! I wan’ you to book a sample menu night with Lucy and tell me what you think of her cooking. Get the recipes and report in to the Raul.”

Grimaces abounded and Opal spoke first. “I don’t need any personal chef, Raul. I cook all day myself and take home plenty from the restaurant.”

Lloyd’s palm rested on his generous stomach. “My doctor’s putting me on a low-fat restricted diet to help me lose a few pounds.”

Raul had never known Lloyd to be weight conscious. “What does that have to do with anyting?”

“All right then,” Lloyd retorted. “I got a bit of a spastic colon issue and I can’t be eating certain foods right now. I’m not about to have that pretty lady come over and me tell her, ‘Sorry there, sis, but I can’t eat that—it’ll give me gas.’”

Raul frowned, but was not defeated. There had to be a way to get a sample of Lucy’s cooking.

“So just who is this client she’s going to be cooking for that has you all riled up?” Opal nibbled on a bowl of buttered and heavily salted popcorn that had been brought to their table. Microwavable with fake flavoring. Raul wouldn’t touch it. Peasant food.

“A Californiano.”

“A what?” Lloyd scrunched his face. “What the hell’s that?”

“The Dickensons from Californias. They moved up here with a big cash flow, but I don’ know what he does for his job. He knows Tolman. Drew Tolman is like that freakin’ E. H. Hutton guy on the commercials. He talks and everyone listens. Damn Californians.”

“Yeah, damn Californians with all their bucks,” Lloyd snipped, then remembered a tidbit. “Hey, Raul. Aren’t you from California?”

“La Puente.”

“Where in the hell is that?”

“C’hew don’ want to know.”

The three of them voiced various opinions on the Californians in Idaho, then tired of that topic and switched gears to discuss whether or not Opal should expand her parking lot.

Raul listened, but only when his name was mentioned did he add to the conversation. These Dickensons could be big trouble for him. If one went over, then another would follow….

And Raul Nunez had had the market on the chef business in Red Duck and Timberline far too long to let any of his clientele slip away. No. He was the best.

This was the Raul’s town.