The lack of a cranking sound when she turned the key in her car left her slightly befuddled. Suspecting the probable cause to be a dead battery, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel and shed a few tears before calling for a tow truck.
21
Close to midnight, Allee locked the door of her apartment behind her and leaned against it. She dropped her things and fell into bed. After twelve hours of sleep and a hot shower, she was ready to face the world again. She spent a frustrating half day completing employment applications at a department store, a high-end restaurant, and a dry-cleaning establishment. She made it a point to arrive at the rehabilitation center at precisely three-thirty, the earliest Tina said she was allowed to receive visitors. “Tina!” Allee ran to her friend’s bedside. “Can I hug you without hurting anything?”
Tina was dressed in shorts, lounging on her made-up bed. She flung her book aside. “Allee! Of course, you can hug me. In fact, I insist.”
Allee nodded toward a device that slowly bent and straightened Tina’s leg. “What’s that?”
“It keeps my knee moving so scar tissue won’t build up. It’s a holdover from the Spanish inquisition.”
After they embraced, Allee asked, “Why no morning visitors? Is it because you’ve decided to sleep in every morning?”
“I wish.” Tina buzzed the head of her bed upward until she was in a sitting position. “They work us like slaves from breakfast until early afternoon. Grab a chair. I want to hear about the trip I almost took, and for which you must be forever indebted to me for winning for you. Start with every single detail about the guy and tell me how you know he’s the one.”
Allee raked her bottom teeth down her upper lip. “What makes you think that? We happened to meet, you know, two unattached Americans away from home. So we did a few things together. That’s about it.”
“No, no, no. He’s the knight in shining armor you’ve been waiting for to come and sweep you off your feet. That’s what you said.”
“Tina, you’re hallucinating. They must have you on some heavy drugs. I never said anything of the sort.”
Tina picked up her phone and scrolled. When I asked for particulars, you texted me, and I quote, ‘Chevalier, captain, don’t know number’ as preserved here on this unimpeachable repository of evidence.”
“What I said is a far cry from the way you interpreted—or should I say, embroidered—it.”
Tina insisted, “But you said he was your knight. Your chevalier. So what else could I think?”
“Chevalier is his name. Paul Chevalier, and I never once said—”
“That’s his name?” Tina broke in. “Don’t you know what that means, Allee? A chevalier was a French knight.” She leaned her back against the pillow and put a hand across her eyes. “It’s an sign from God. Your destiny. I can’t wait to meet this guy.”
“Chill, cupid. He’s moving to Colorado, and he told me he doesn’t believe in long-distance romances. Do you want to look through my pictures?”
“Later. So, you two must have been discussing romance when he made the long-distance comment, which I’m certain he did not mean.”
“Stop me if I’m wrong.” Allee rolled her eyes at Tina. “I thought I was the one who went to France and had this conversation. Therefore, I have the context, which you do not.”
Tina grinned and hugged a small teddy bear to her chest. “Let’s start at the very beginning. You need to tell me everything that happened, and then I’ll have all of that indispensable context.”
“How much time do you have?” Allee was torn. She wanted to re-live every moment she’d shared with Paul. At the same time, she didn’t want Tina to know how much she missed him.
“Time?” Tina laughed. “The soonest they’ll let me go home, well, to my sister, Emily’s house, is next week. Until then, my dance card is one hundred percent blank. Spill it.”
Three hours and half a box of tissues later, a young man in white stuck his head inside Tina’s room long enough to say, “Dinner in ten minutes, Miss Bandolino?”
Tina groaned.
Allee was surprised by her reaction. “Have you developed a sudden dislike for food?”
“Imagine a totally healthy diet, nothing fried, no gravy, and very little sugar or salt. I think it’s a motivational thing. Sooner or later you start walking no matter how much your knee or hip or whatever hurts, because you’ve got to go somewhere and get something good and greasy to eat.”
“I’ll bring you a cheeseburger tomorrow.”
“Oh, Allee, you are a true friend. Don’t forget the fries, and maybe a milkshake.”
With one last hug, Allee headed home. Time was short to find a new place to live, but she couldn’t make an intelligent choice until she knew how much money she would earn over the summer. Remembering how thoroughly she and Tina cleaned out their food supplies before the trip, she decided to stop off at a grocery store for a few items. Her recent unexpected purchase of a new car battery reminded her to be cautious. She fought back memories of French chocolate and dessert crepes while selecting a jar of peanut butter, grape jelly, bread, and two Fast and Thrifty boxed casseroles.
After a week of numerous applications and no job offers, Allee drove to Helmut’s Chinese Mexican Buffet. If she didn’t get a job here, she’d decided to go home to Redmont’s Crossing, move into her old room and help out on the farm until school started. She could only hope Mr. Helmut had forgiven or forgotten the incident a couple of summers back, when she’d suggested he would get more cooperation from his employees if he treated them better.
22
At noon the following day, Allee balanced her and Tina’s dinner in one hand as she hurried down the hallway at the rehabilitation center.
“Oh, you are an angel of mercy,” Tina chirped, closing her book and reaching toward Allee. “Hugs later, but right now let me at that cheeseburger.” She opened the fast food sack Allee offered and waved her hand across its top. “Ah, the sweet aroma of health and happiness. Why do we call that funky white cake ‘angel food’? I’d bet celestial beings order burgers at every meal because there’s nothing tastier. Unless it’s a greasy French fry. Did you have those in France? I heard we just say ‘French’ to make them sound classy, but they’re really something we invented here in this country. I bet you missed good old American food in Paris.”
Allee laughed. “Not so much. Someday I’ll tell you about the chocolate parlor Paul took me to in Paris. If angels eat food like we do, which I doubt, I’m guessing they’d favor French chocolates.” She arranged food on the rolling table next to Tina’s bed. “Cheeseburger, fries, and a giant, apricot milkshake.”
Tina clapped her hands together. “Oh, Allee, you drove all the way out to that place on the highway to get me an apricot milkshake. You’re the best friend ever.” She unwrapped her burger. “Hey, good news. I’m being released tomorrow. Time off for good behavior. They even said I can go back to work part time in a few days if I feel like it.” She nodded toward the crutches in the corner of the room. “I get stuck with those.”
“That’s wonderful news, Tina. It seems pretty quick, though. Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Are you kidding me?” Tina’s eyes widened dramatically. “I feel as if I’ve been in bed for a year. And believe me, my bank account insists it’s high time to get back to selling houses.”
“I can sympathize with the financial pinch.” Allee opened several packets of ketchup and placed them near Tina’s fries. “I always look forward to school starting, but more this year than ever.”
“Is that so you can get your mind off the knight?”
“No.” Allee shook her head. “So I can count on a steady paycheck and replace my cell phone. The ‘knight’, as you call him, is just a sweet memory.”
“Hasn’t he texted you? Or called? No email or anything?” Tina stuffed French fries into her mouth.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Allee frowned.
“What do you mean? He has your nu
mber, doesn’t he?” She tented her eyebrows. “And don’t tell me he’s not crazy for you. Remember, I saw those pictures. I have eyes.” She used two fingers to point out the truth of her statement.
“Tina.” Allee took a sip of her soft drink. “I dropped my phone in the parking lot and smashed something inside. So, nobody will call me until I have the money to get a replacement.” She sighed. “I wish I’d taken the insurance, but it’s too late to worry about that now. Anyway, you need to calm down your romantic imagination and plug in to reality. That’s what I’m doing from now on.”
“Don’t give up on flights of fancy, Allee. They make life fun.” She studied a pickle slice before eating it. “For example, I could dwell on being confined to a place where most of the other patients are old enough to be my grandmother, they make me work so hard I want to scream, and the meals taste like cat food. But I’ve decided to make friends with all the old ladies and enjoy having people make my bed and clean up after me. Think of it. I have more servants than a member of the royal family.” She grinned. “Of course, they think they are therapists. So let’s not spoil it for them.”
Allee couldn’t help laughing. “OK, Princess Tina. But there are some holes in your logic concerning me and the knight, as you call him. He’s done with me, and you don’t know what cat food tastes like.”
“Maybe he is, and maybe he isn’t.” She chewed on her burger. “Cat food tastes a lot like that meatloaf they used to fix every Tuesday when we were in high school, only it’s oilier and too spicy. Remember Fluffy, that white kitty I had in sixth grade? I tasted her food one time when she turned up her nose as if it wasn’t acceptable to her highness.”
“Tina, you didn’t.”
“Of course, I did. I wanted to know why Fluffy didn’t want it, and besides I was curious to find out if it tasted like it smelled.”
“So, how was it?”
Tina wrinkled her nose. “A little too salty and way too heavy on the garlic. Now remember who you’re talking to. When someone with my heritage says garlic is overdone, you can take that to the bank.”
“The next thing I’m taking to the bank is my paycheck from old Mr. Helmut.”
Having finished off her burger and fries, Tina turned her attention to the remaining portion of her milkshake. “I wonder why more restaurants don’t use apricots in their drinks. They make your body less acidic. Do you realize they’re almost as healthy as spinach and taste a whole lot better?” She drew the thick liquid through her straw until the unmistakable sound of an empty cup resounded throughout the room. “I thought you said you’d starve before you’d ever go back to work at the Chinese Mexican buffet.”
With a shrug, Allee said, “The apartment manager is letting me have a one-bedroom furnished unit without any deposit or change fee. I can move my stuff down one floor without renting a trailer. It will cost more than splitting the two-bedroom with you, but it’s doable if—and only if—I get a job to tide me over until school starts. It all added up to another summer with Mr. Helmut.”
“Will you be Senorita Tortilla again?”
“Probably.” Allee groaned. “Since I have experience with that tricky machine.”
“Yeah, and you look great in that flamenco dancer outfit.”
“Thank you for reminding me about that,” Allee retorted. “One more word about the costume, just one, and you’ll be on your own for cheeseburgers and apricot milkshakes.”
“No.” Tina held out both hands. “Have pity on me. I’m not cut out to be a health nut.”
“Then you have to promise, no pictures of me in that Senorita Tortilla getup. Word of honor.”
“If that’s the way you want it.” Tina grinned. “Maybe you can get something going with Uncle Panda.”
Allee stuffed the trash from their meal into a paper sack. “I don’t need any more romantic suggestions. That’s my mom’s territory and, believe me, she covers it very well.”
23
Paul Chevalier cruised into the apartment house parking lot, hoping he hadn’t made a colossal mistake. After a short but intense prayer, he switched off his car’s engine, and smoothed his hair. Brimming with excited anticipation, he located the building with apartment number three twenty-two. He looked up at the row of identical balconies and windows. There was nothing left to do but climb those stairs and face his future. Out of habit, he checked the time. Eight-fifteen. Hopefully late enough not to interfere with mealtime.
There were muffled sounds from inside apartment three twenty-two, but no one opened the door in response to his knock. He rapped again, somewhat louder, and waited. What if she slammed the door in his face? What if she had company, someone she’d invited over for dinner? He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and surveyed the parking lot. Perhaps she was out, and the movement inside was a cat or dog. Maybe she had a date.
It seemed like forever before the door cracked open, chain on. “I—” Paul discontinued the speech he’d prepared and cleared his throat. He was staring at a man about his own age, with a shaved head, and a full beard. “I was expecting someone else. Uh, Allee Bell.”
The man stared back for a long moment, then smiled. “You wouldn’t, by some chance, be the guy who keeps sending me flowers, would you?”
“If they’re red roses, yeah, that’s me.”
The chain came off, and the fellow threw open the apartment door. “Listen, Darlene, that’s my wife, Darlene thought the bouquets were for her. Let’s not bust her bubble.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It put her in a real good mood, thinking I’d sent her flowers, if you know what I mean. I’d hate for her to find out the roses were for somebody else, and I’m not the romantic hero she thinks I am right now.”
“I understand.” Paul took a slip of paper from his pocket. “I thought sure this was Allee Bell’s address. I must have transposed some numbers or something.”
“Darlene and I just moved in a week ago. I bought out the game centers at the malls. We’re waiting for our house to be built.”
Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “Allee must have moved. You don’t have any idea where she went, do you?”
“No, sorry. I think she must be a realtor, if that helps any. I found a stack of business cards she must have left behind.”
“May I have one?”
“I sure wish I could help you out, especially since Darlene liked the flowers so much. But we spilled catsup on them cards and I had to throw them in the dumpster.” He scratched his bald head. “Maybe the apartment manager can tell you where the old tenant went.”
Paul nodded. “Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No worries, man.” The man almost closed, and then re-opened the door. “The gal that lived here is probably not the one you’re looking for anyway. I don’t remember the name on the business cards, but it wasn’t Bell. The first name was ‘Tina’ and the last name was a long name, Italian I think.” He re-set the chain. “I hope you find her.”
“Thank you. So do I.” Paul descended the stairs. Of all the obstacles he’d anticipated, not locating Allee at her address wasn’t among them. He started reviewing possibilities. He’d try, but doubted the apartment manager would give out personal information. He planned to compile a list of the private schools in Montgomery. It would take time to visit each one and speak with an administrator, but as soon as school started he’d give it a try. Meanwhile, he’d start visiting churches. How many Sunday school classes of eight-year-old girls could there be in a town the size of Montgomery, Alabama? After moving heaven and earth to get his assignment changed to Maxwell Air Force Base, he wasn’t giving up until he found Allee and told her how he felt.
~*~
Tina carefully climbed out of her sister’s SUV and maneuvered on her crutches into Helmut’s Chinese Mexican Buffet.
Allee waved and pointed to a booth near the front of the restaurant. By the time Tina eased herself into a sitting position, Allee joined her. “How’s the first day at work going?”
&nb
sp; Tina grimaced. “It takes me forever to get in and out of houses and cars, but I’m so happy to be out of the house and with people I’m not complaining. Emily must have five hundred TV channels, and there’s nothing worth watching until the evening news comes on.” She smiled. “How are you doing with the tortilla machine?”
“It’s really very simple, mostly timing. As long as I make the dough balls the right size and put them in at the correct intervals, the flour tortillas come rolling out of the oven right on schedule, no jams. I have to admit, the customers are fascinated by seeing the tortillas made in their sight.”
“Everyone loves a good show,” Tina observed. “I just wish they would put some of them on television during the daytime. The commercials have better story lines than the features.”
Allee eyed Tina’s crutches leaning against the table. “Want to fix me a plate for you so you don’t have to get up and down?”
“Sure. I’ll return the favor when you’re old enough to get your knees replaced.”
When Allee stood, the flounce of her colorful full skirt swayed around her ankles. She returned with two plates of steaming rice, borracho beans, and cheese enchiladas with chili gravy on a serving tray. “Obviously, I went to the Mexican counter. We can have Chinese tomorrow. Free food for employees and a spouse or one friend are part of Mr. Helmut’s comprehensive employee benefit plan.”
The employee portraying Uncle Panda stopped beside their booth. “Want a balloon, little girl?” The helium-filled balloons clutched in his hand strained toward the high ceiling. “I have etchings out in the kitchen, if you prefer.” The deep voice came from underneath the panda’s permanently-fixed smile.
“No thanks, Mark,” Allee laughingly replied.
“How about your friend?”
Tina giggled. “Maybe next time.”
Uncle Panda wandered away, leaving Allee and Tina to talk and eat.
“Good enchiladas.” Tina wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She took out a small mirror and applied lipstick. “I gotta run. I hope I’ll be driving soon. Meanwhile, Emily is picking me up and chauffeuring me around. Bless her heart, she’s even taking me to show a couple of houses this afternoon. Wish me bon chance. That’s French for good luck.”
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