Lone Star

by Paullina Simons

  “Sit down.” Janice pulled on Burt’s sleeve. “Why stand at the door like a horse?”

  “I’ve been sitting for ten years,” the man said. “From now on, I’m doing everything standing up.” He grabbed Janice around the waist.

  “Burt, the children!” Janice squealed. “You’ll have to excuse him, he—”

  Blake strode out, in new jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was even wider in the shoulders than he had been last summer. Through their emails she knew that he was roofing and hauling granite blocks for outdoor fireplaces. “I leave you with her for two minutes, and what happens?” he said. He smiled. His face was clean-shaven. “Hey, Chloe.”

  “Hey, Blake. Is it true you now have even your dad running errands for you? I’m so sorry, Mr. Haul.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” said Burt, gazing adoringly at his son. “I’d carry his water for him, if he’d let me.”

  Blake gave Chloe a nudge. “Did you hear that?” He grabbed his wallet and keys.

  “So where are you two headed? Why don’t you eat first? Blake, you can show her the pictures from the fair. Janice, fetch the album.”

  “We can’t eat here, Dad, because we’re going to eat elsewhere.”

  “Is that why you told me to get dressed up?” she asked, in a miniskirt and a sleeveless blouse.

  “And I’m so glad you didn’t listen.” He winked. “Let’s go.”

  “Chloe,” said Janice, “come for dinner on Sunday. Mason will be here with Mackenzie and their new baby boy.”

  “No, Ma, Chloe won’t be able to make it,” said Blake, thank God.

  “Blakie, wait, don’t rush the girl out, I want to show her a picture of the baby—”

  “Gotta go. Bye, Mom, bye, Dad.”

  “Wait! Do you have your phone? He always forgets his phone …”

  “Lost it last week, don’t worry.” He waved, prodding Chloe to his truck.

  “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “Nope.”

  “I swear, it better not be to your brother’s house to see his new baby.”

  “There’s an idea.”

  “How’s Hannah?”

  “What, Taylor doesn’t give you a full report on us?”

  “She’s lost touch with Hannah.” Taylor was otherwise quite good at keeping Chloe updated. “She told me she’s going to start a clipping service for every time she sees your mug in the local paper. Why are you working so hard?”

  “I don’t work that hard,” Blake said. “I fix some roofs and fire pits, read to some blind old ladies, swim, fish.”

  “Renovate houses, write books, run fairs that make tens of thousands of dollars for local businesses and charities.”

  “My mother does all the work. I just make the money. She gives it away. To St. Elizabeth’s, Meals on Wheels, MADD, Planned Parenthood.”

  She did a doubletake. “What?”

  He chuckled. “Just making sure you’re paying attention. My mother loves playing the queen. Yea here, nay there. The other day she got a request from the South Maine Bowling Association asking for new shirts for their bowling league. She’s like, how is that charity? And they were like, because we can’t afford them.”

  Chloe laughed. “Where are you taking me?” They were heading into the White Mountains, past Jackson, past Bartlett.

  “You’ll see. I have a big day planned.”

  Chloe was happy to be back home. She told Blake she was thinking of not working at all this summer. Just sleeping and repairing her ruined rose bushes. Watching the road. Watching the Internet. “Um, maybe reading The Blue Suitcase?”

  He shook his head. “First, I don’t have physical books yet. In August, if we’re lucky. But second, what if, after you read it, you won’t want to hang out?”

  “Perhaps that’s a worthy sacrifice to make for art. Blake, what the heck did you put in that story? Now I’m dying to read it.”

  They turned into the mile-long winding drive of the Mount Washington Hotel, an enormous white, red-roofed resort spread over a hundred acres at the foot of the White Mountains.

  “You’re taking me to a hotel?” She was being silly.

  “To a restaurant in a hotel to be more precise.”

  They valeted his truck! That must be a first, not to self-park. “Aren’t you fancy,” she whispered to him, as her door was opened.

  “Good afternoon, sir, good afternoon, madam,” the valet said to Blake and Chloe. “Are you checking in? Will you be needing a luggage rack?”

  Chloe giggled. They called him sir! They asked if they were checking in! “Um, sir, will you be needing a luggage rack?” she teased, as Blake pressed his palm into her back guiding her inside the long gilded lobby. He was treating her to a nice lunch.

  “I thought it’d be a welcome change from the dorm fare you’ve been noshing on. I’ve acquired quite a sophisticated palate while you’ve been away. I eat lamb sliders now.”

  They sat outside on the veranda with a view of the rolling golf course and the full sweep of the mountains. White cloth napkins grazed their laps. It was funny to be so elegant. “You clean up nice, Blake Haul,” she said.

  “You too, Chloe Divine.”

  “So are you going to tell me what you and Hannah are up to, or am I going to have to guess?” she asked after he ordered for both of them (!).

  “Me and Hannah? I’m good, and she’s … well, you’ll see for yourself. She’s the last part of our afternoon today. But what’s going on with you? I saw on your schedule you’re taking advanced hiking. Among other things.”

  She was baffled. “Since when do you look at my schedule?”

  “Since your mother showed it to me last time I was over.”

  “Since when do you go to my mother’s house when I’m not there?”

  “Since every week when I ask her if she needs anything from the store, and she invites me for dinner.”

  Chloe stopped sipping her ice tea.

  “She does? And do you?”

  “Once a week.”

  “Wait. You eat dinner with my parents once a week?”

  “Your parents and Ray. He’s a great kid. Makes your mom and dad happy. You did well there, finding him.”

  “Blake, you’re bullshitting me.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “You mean there’s another subject other than you having dinner at my house every week?”

  “Absolutely. There’s the much more important matter of your schedule.” He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans. It had her course list on it.

  “So you don’t have your cell phone, but my class schedule is in your pocket?”

  “Correct. Advanced Voice? Holocaust studies? Tai Chi?”

  The lamb sliders came and distracted Chloe from having to answer Blake’s unanswerable question. She knew why she was taking these courses. Affixed to the past, she was polishing away at the edges of an empty cup. Did Blake and her mother discuss this? She almost lost her appetite. Almost, because the sliders with the mint yoghurt sauce were delectable. She didn’t respond to his teasing or judging or whatever it was he was doing. They talked about other things.

  Over the toffee chocolate bread pudding, Blake said, “You won’t believe who died.”

  “This is how you tell me? Over bread pudding? Who?”

  “Lupe.”

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry. Poor thing. What happened?”

  “She was nearly a hundred; maybe that? I loved that old broad. Remember she told me not to go to Europe? Boy, should I have listened to her. It’s as if she knew. She said all the drama I could want was right here.”

  Chloe didn’t say there was drama everywhere.

  “You want to hear drama?” He leaned toward her over the amazing pudding they were sharing.

  She leaned forward too. “What did Hannah do now?”

  “That’s later. Now it’s Lupe’s turn. In her will, Lupe left everythi
ng to me.”

  “What do you mean everything?”

  “I mean everything.”

  Chloe stopped mid-gooey-toffee slurp. “Like what? What did she have? She lived in a shack next to somebody else’s house.”

  “So you’d think. Turns out somebody else’s house was hers, and the shack, and the ten acres of property leading to the river, and also an antique store in North Conway, and a bed and breakfast in Crawford Notch, near here. Plus a shitload of investments.”

  “No way!”

  “Yeah way. Who knew, right?”

  Chloe sat back. “Haven’t you done well for yourself. And you thought Hannah couldn’t stay away from you after you won a ten thousand dollar prize and made thirty grand fundraising.”

  “Yeah, more on that later. Eat, before I devour it.”

  “For three years you lifted Lupe’s immobile legs into the car, and now look. Aww.” She smiled. “There’s a moral in there somewhere.”

  “Maybe at first glance.” He licked the spoon. His eyes were merry, his short hair a little longer, streaked blonder. He had shaved well but missed a small patch where his broad neck met his collarbone. Chloe didn’t want to stare at it and make him self-conscious. He was trying so hard. “Lupe’s sons, all three of them, raced in from California for the reading of the will, and you can imagine their reaction. They’re taking me to court. Trying to overturn the will, to say she died intestate. You should read the documents. It’s so bizarre. They’re saying I coerced her and sexually dominated her.”

  Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Are you much known for that?”

  “Well, sure, but not with her. She was mad old.”

  Chloe laughed.

  “It’s so stupid,” Blake said. “I don’t even want her stuff.”

  “Don’t say that. You do.”

  “I don’t. It’s nothing but trouble. I had to get a lawyer and everything. Hey, maybe you can be my lawyer?” Blake made a frustrated gesture with his hands. “I put shoes on a cute old lady, and suddenly I’m the bad guy. Makes you not want to do anything for anybody.”

  “Don’t worry, they won’t win,” said Chloe. “I’d love to be your lawyer, Blake. But I have to go to law school first.”

  “Are you,” he asked, almost carefully, “going to law school?”

  “Thinking about it, why?”

  “Are you taking your LSATs?”

  “This October.”

  “Where, San Diego Law?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  “What, they don’t have law schools on the East Coast? Not even one?”

  “Maybe one,” she said with a return twinkle. Harvard Law was only a few hours away. “But it’s why SDU offered me their prized undergrad scholarship in the first place. So I could eventually attend their prized law school.”

  “Is that what you want to be when you grow up?” he asked, his mouth full of the last bite of bread pudding. “A lawyer in San Diego? Or do you still want to be a florist?” He pitched his baritone higher to sound like her. “Oh, because I sure love the laaaaaw, but flowers are so preeetty.”

  And she laughed, and the way he looked at her while she was laughing made her feel slightly unsteady even though she was sitting down.

  After lunch they wandered around the expansive country club grounds of the hotel. Chloe wondered what the rooms were like, but of course wouldn’t think of wondering this out loud. She bet they were pretty lux, though. Blake showed her the ballroom with the floor to ceiling Georgian windows and asked if she thought this was a nice place for a white wedding. Or even an off-white wedding, he quipped.

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said. “Who’s getting married this time?”

  He wouldn’t say.

  They drove into Crawford Notch to Lupe’s bed and breakfast, a cozy maroon guesthouse up in the woody hills. They picked half a meadow of lupines and daisies. Blake said he had plans for the guesthouse if he won in court, but wouldn’t tell Chloe what they were yet. On the way back, they bought an ice cream and stopped by Lupe’s farm in Jackson. It was quite a spread. There was a large main house and acres of flat and landscaped lawn stretching to the woods that led to the river. There was a four-car garage, and another guesthouse.

  “Blake, give up everything else, but definitely fight for this house,” said Chloe. “It’s pretty special.”

  “What in the world would I need a house this size for?”

  “Eventually you’ll want to fill it with little Blakes, no?” She knocked into him as they paced back and forth in front of the property, enjoying their ice cream. “Taylor told me …”

  “Oh, so with Taylor you communicate aplenty.” He knocked into her, but gentler.

  “What do you mean? You and I emailed all year. Anyway, Taylor told me you were hot and heavy with some chick named Fiona. Where do you even find these girls?”

  “Fiona? In a bowling alley.” Blake grinned. “The indigent bowling alley with no money for league shirts. She bowled a 270.”

  “Blake! You went out with a chick because she bowled a 270?”

  “What, I need another reason?”

  He was impossible. Chloe didn’t mention the other thing Taylor had told her: that Fiona was inconsolable, because Blake had broken it off with her in April, out of the blue, just when she thought they were taking their relationship to the next level. Taylor said that Blake invariably seemed to find a girl in the fall and lose her by springtime. That dude has no staying power, Taylor solemnly told Chloe.

  “So what’s going on with Hannah?”

  Blake put an arm around her shoulder and led her toward his truck. “All right,” he said. “For the climax of our afternoon, no pun intended, I’ll show you Hannah.”

  A few miles off the main drag in North Conway, out in the boonies, Blake pulled up in front of a modest one-story ranch house by the river.

  This time they both walked up the steps to the front porch, littered with kids’ toys. Blake knocked.

  A few seconds later Hannah appeared at the door. Her hands were covered in flour, her hair, longer and unbleached, fell around her shoulders. Her giant pregnant stomach bumped the screen.

  “Oh, look who’s back.” Her face was full of harried happiness. “Hi, you two. Blake, bad boy, you said you’d call before you stopped by. I’d invite you in, but the house is a wreck. Next time, give me a half-hour warning, will you? Chloe, look at the porch swing we just got. Nice, right? Sit. I’ll get you an ice tea.” She turned back inside. “Hayley, stop breaking all my eggs!”

  “Hannah, wait,” Blake said. “We can’t sit or stay.” His hand circled Chloe’s upper arm to keep her from moving toward the swing. “We have to get back. Chloe just wanted to say hi. She approves of my idea, by the way.”

  “I’m so glad!” Hannah smiled. Hannah. Smiled.

  Also stunning: the enormity of Hannah’s belly.

  Squealing banging noise came from inside the house. “Zhenya, I’ll be a sec, keep an eye on the baby!” Hannah shook her head in mild exasperation. “Those kids. Blake, let me know if you need anything. A deposition, or whatever. A statement. I’ll write whatever you need. Chloe, can you believe it about those bastards suing Blake? He should be suing them for abandoning their own mother.”

  “Chloe agreed to be my lawyer,” Blake said. “So I can’t lose.” He squeezed Chloe’s arm. He hadn’t let go of her yet. “Here.” He handed Hannah the field of flowers he and Chloe had picked.

  “For me? Thank you, Blake.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. He patted her huge belly.

  “When are you due?” Chloe stammered.

  “October. I know, I’m a rhino.” Hannah beamed. “It’s twins.”

  Chloe needed Blake’s hand on her to keep her from reeling. Not from the news. From the joy with which the news was relayed.

  “Blakie, I told Orville no way am I getting married,” Hannah continued, “until I lose the baby weight. Look at me. I must be two hundred pounds. They don’t make wedding dresses in hippo size. Di
d you check out the ballroom at Mount Washington, by the way? What did you think?”

  “We did, but Chloe didn’t like it,” Blake said. “She thinks something is buried in the parquet. Like chinchillas. That’s what she said the place smelled like. Dead chinchillas. Right, Chloe?”

  “Blake! Don’t listen to him, Hannah. It was perfect. A great place for a, um, wedding.” Blake squeezed her arm until she nearly laughed out loud.

  In Blake’s truck and down the block, Chloe spun to face him. He couldn’t hide his howling delight.

  “You’re terrible!” She slapped his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And miss the shock on your face when you saw her? That was priceless.”

  “She’s having Orville’s twins?!”

  “Yup. The sucker. I guess he didn’t want anyone else giving her rides home anymore. And she’s quite grateful for that, as you can see.”

  “Blake!”

  “You know what, Miss Judgy, you should bless their union. I do. Every day I light a candle of thanks. It all worked out. I’m dating girls who know how to bowl, Orville is working two jobs and walking around like he’s won the lottery. Hannah too. Who would’ve thunk? You won’t believe what a strict mother she is, by the way. Zhenya doesn’t leave the house unless Hannah says she can leave the house.”

  Chloe watched the passing road all the way to Fryeburg. How unpredictable life was, how surprising, how mystifying. “What’s this wacky idea of yours I approve of?”

  “If the law is on my side, I’m going to give Lupe’s bed and breakfast to Orville and Hannah as a wedding present. They can make a good living there. Did you see its great location?”

  Chloe stopped staring at the road and stared at Blake instead.

  “Does my mother know any of this about you?” Lupe, Hannah, bed and breakfasts, Orville. Bouquets of lupines for his erstwhile love.