While You Were Speaking: Spring Flings and Engagement Rings

by Maria Hoagland

  Not that it wouldn’t keep her from a few harmless daydreams.

  The drive was short between the Cornucopia and the drive-in theater. She parked at the ticket booth, unlocked the gate, and then led them under the mid-century marquee onto the property. The two other cars pulled up in stalls next to hers, three across and pointing at the big screen as if at a private showing. If only that were the case. Some of her favorite memories were of late nights, after the last of the double feature’s customers had left: her dad would insist he wasn’t exhausted, though she could see it in the slump of his shoulders as he started a movie just for them. “What’s your pleasure, pumpkin?” he would always ask, whether she was nine or nineteen.

  “Oh, Moose, it’s just like I remember!” Mikki clutched her husband’s hand, pulling him closer.

  “Then I guess your memory is just as dimmed as this screen,” Moose said gently, laughing a little.

  “Some of my memories may be a little soft around the edges, but I remember that day perfectly.” Mikki went about a third of the way to the left side of the screen and about a third of the way back. “We were parked here, and I thought it was a really strange place to choose. You never parked there.” Pulling the edges of her cardigan together, she folded her arms. “You thought you were so sneaky, but you were acting different, nervous. You’d asked me a question about ring size a few weeks before, and I was on high alert, waiting to see if you were going to ask me to marry you. How I hoped it would be that night!” She looked up at him with sparkles in her eyes.

  “It was so much fun watching you find excuses to look through the glove compartment and feel under the seat.” Moose laughed heartily. “And all that time, you had it in the pocket of my jacket that was draped over your knees.”

  “How was I to know there was an inside pocket?” Mikki said defensively. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, halting his laughter. “At the intermission between the two films—The King and I and High Society—I remember.” She lifted a finger in Moose’s face as if he’d doubted her, which was all the more comical because he towered over her.

  He covered another laugh with a cough, and she gave him a warning look.

  “At intermission, the owner did something I’d never seen before,” she said to those listening to her story. “He said he was holding a drawing for a gift certificate for a free movie night. Just before he called our names, you asked if you could have your jacket and you put it on.” There was that warning finger and the twinkle in her eyes again. “I didn’t catch the jacket thing then, but I thought about it later. I should have known it was a setup. You weren’t surprised at all when they called our names and asked us to come forward.” She held out her hand to her husband, who took it tenderly and pressed a kiss to her fingertips before smiling at her cheekily.

  Together, they walked to the small stage in front of the large screen, the entire family following, entranced by a story they’d doubtless heard before. Lucy was enthralled. This couple was adorable, made all the sweeter by the evidence of the years they’d been together.

  They stepped onto the stage, and Mikki turned to Lucy. “When we got up here, the owner handed Moose the ticket—”

  “We really did get a free night,” Moose explained. “And that wasn’t part of what I’d arranged with him either.”

  Mikki smiled at her husband’s addition to her tale. “The proprietor’s wife stepped up with this gorgeous bouquet of red and white roses, and instead of handing them to me, like I expected, she handed them to Moose.” Her face showed confusion.

  “Because I look pretty with roses.” Moose curtseyed.

  “And smell nice too.” Bill held his nose.

  Moose clapped Bill on the shoulder. “Thanks, son.”

  “Anytime.”

  With a soft clearing of her throat to keep her boys in line, Mikki continued. “Moose pretended to accept the flowers from her—hamming it up just like he is now—but then handed them to me. And what do you do with roses?”

  “You smell them?” Lucy answered.

  “I smelled them,” Mikki agreed. “I buried my face in them and inhaled deeply. When I looked up, Moose was on one knee and pulling a ring out of his pocket.”

  “Aww.” Lucy placed both hands over her heart. She was a sucker for a good proposal story and always had been. Even a should we get married? could be sweet if told the right way, but to think that this one had happened at her own drive-in had her teary. “Can I see the ring?”

  Zach and Trina stepped back, a significant look passing between them, so that Mikki could step forward. Like a new bride-to-be, she lifted her hand for Lucy to see. In the sunlight, the round-cut diamond shone in its white gold setting, a few smaller diamonds descending in size from the larger one in the center.

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  Mikki admired the ring with a sweet smile full of a lifetime of memories. “Moose always did have good taste.”

  “Yes, I do,” Moose said, his eyes soft on her.

  The sweetness of the scene was so much. What would it be like to have a love like theirs? The love between these two people had created this entire jovial, adoring family, and Lucy’s chest tightened with longing. Her parents had had that as well—at least her dad had told her they had—but she’d never really gotten a chance to see it, feel it, be a part of its security. “What year was this?” Lucy was pleased she managed to ask without allowing the emotion to leak into her words.

  “1956. Two years after it opened, and one year after our first date,” Moose said with confidence.

  “Thank you so much for sharing your story with me.” Lucy’s hands were still over her heart. She would always treasure this special story that reinforced the reasons she had for wanting to reopen the drive-in.

  With Leah and Ezra trying to climb off the stage, the family made their way down, dispersing to walk around in twos and threes. Lucy stood, overlooking the property in the stark afternoon light. It really was a mess—embarrassingly so—and yet, the Hughes had seemed to appreciate being here. Maybe this wasn’t as crazy an idea as she’d once thought.

  She may not have had the chance to fix up anything cosmetically, but she had taken care of the most important thing. For his speech, Carter would stand on this stage, surrounded by volunteers in their cars and pickups. She didn’t have the capability to project him onto the screen, but she’d made sure everyone would be able to hear him. Dropping the money into sound equipment had been a risk that had made her sick to her stomach, but she’d invested in her future, taking that first big step Carter always talked about. She’d had no problems hooking up the technology—sound was her thing, after all—and if she was really going to make a go of reviving the Starlight, an FM transmitter was the best place to start.

  Zach’s brother-in-law, Blake, in particular seemed fascinated by the old metal speakers that hooked onto the cars’ windows. He picked one up from its pole and shook it. Knowing their state of disrepair, Lucy could imagine the rusty rattling he heard. “If you get the drive-in up and running again, will you use these?”

  She shook her head. “Sadly, no. There’s maybe one company in the world that still has parts for them. Most drive-ins now broadcast on their own FM stations.”

  “Kate was saying you work at the radio station,” Zach’s sister, Marnie, said. “Does that mean you’d know how to do that then?”

  “I actually just got it up and running last week.” Lucy grinned. As long as it worked, that was probably the easiest part of the transition to digital for her. She turned to Mikki at her side. “So you two grew up here in Harvest Ranch?”

  Mikki stood maybe to Lucy’s shoulder, her short curls blowing in the breeze. “I did. Well,” she corrected, “my family came when I was a teenager, and moved away again a few years after we did.” She looked over at Moose, who was standing next to Zach, showing Leah one of the speakers. “Moose was here as a mortician trainee.”

  Mortician. Lucy hadn’t expected that. Zach’s head shot
up from his conversation with Leah, his eyes finding hers as if gauging her reaction. She hoped she kept her face straight even in her momentary shock. Was he expecting her to be offended or put off? Why was it talking about work as a mortician had such a bad connotation? She was grateful for the kind couple who had taken care of her father when he’d passed. They’d made the whole process as easy as possible for Lucy when she’d been going through so many details in a complete and utter fog. “How long did you stay here after you got married?”

  “Only for a few months, but then he got his job at a big funeral chapel in Chicago. We were there for many years—”

  “Until Bill graduated with his license as well,” Moose took over the story. “I wanted a business of my own I could pass down. That’s when I moved us back to my hometown in Massachusetts.”

  “We’ve been there ever since.” Mikki slipped her hand through Moose’s elbow and squeezed.

  Lucy turned to Bill. “So it’s a family business, then. You’re a funeral director as well?”

  Bill gave a lazy smile. “It’s the best job. The only one I know where the customers never complain.” His smooth delivery told her this wasn’t first time he’d made this joke.

  “The families do,” Zach grumbled. “They have no idea . . .”

  So Zach was a mortician as well. And it didn’t sound like he liked it much. Interesting.

  “And Carter?” Obviously, she was aware he wasn’t currently a mortician, but maybe he had been before he started speaking for a living.

  Zach scoffed, and Bill answered. “He was supposed to but decided it was a dead-end job.”

  Despite Bill’s jokes, the subject was apparently a touchy one for Zach, so Lucy decided to backtrack to a more comfortable topic. She focused instead on Moose and Mikki. “Does the place look much different from the last time you saw it?” Other than the weeds taking over the grass and the wild blackberries encroaching on the perimeter. And the concession stand that was falling into disrepair. And the speakers and poles being less polished.

  “It pretty much looks the same,” Moose said.

  She’d always assumed the signage and mid-century modern marquee were original. When she was younger, she’d wished her dad had had the money to update it, but now she was glad he hadn’t touched it.

  “I don’t remember the playground.” Mikki pointed at the metal swing set, tall slide, and merry-go-round.

  “I’ve been wondering if I need to pull those out. They have to be from the eighties, maybe even the seventies.” They were so much more fun than the lower-to-the-ground plastic things that constituted playground equipment now.

  Bill shook his head. “They’re classic.”

  “And a hazard,” Trina said. “Your insurance premiums would be less if you went with something a little safer.”

  Lucy had been afraid of that.

  The family made their way back to their cars.

  “Thank you for allowing us this little walk down memory lane.” Mikki squeezed Lucy’s hand, and just when she thought that would be the extent of the thank-you, she pulled Lucy into a tight hug. “It means the world to me.” When Mikki pulled back, unshed tears sparkled in her eyes.

  Touched that she could bring joy to this woman, Lucy barely managed to speak. “You’re so welcome.” She hugged her back and then let go. Not only had she lost her parents, but she hadn’t had a grandmotherly hug like that in ages. “It was completely my pleasure.”

  Amidst more thank-yous, family members young and old started choosing car doors to pile into. Lucy stood where she was, waiting to see them off.

  “Are you going to head out as well?” Zach asked, hanging back from the rest of the family.

  “I have some things I need to do here first—take some measurements for a cabinet, that kind of thing.”

  A light went on in Zach’s eyes. “I could help,” he offered eagerly. “I’m halfway decent with a tape measure.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry. I only accept ‘decent with a tape measure.’ No halfways around here.”

  He pulled a serious face, seemed to consider her words, and nodded. “I can manage decent.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. What kind of special skill was that?

  “I can keep it level at least. Hold it securely so it’s accurate.”

  She hadn’t planned on being that precise, but she wouldn’t mind the company. Especially his. “I’ll take it.”

  Zach’s eyes flicked to his mother’s. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Trina nodded. “We’re just going to walk down Main Street, I think.”

  “After I put Ezra and Leah down for naps,” Marnie said.

  “Thank goodness,” Blake said, strapping his son into his car seat. “Because that means I’ll need to stay behind at the cabin with them . . .”

  “And if you just so happen to fall asleep too . . .” his wife teased.

  “Hey, I’m on vacation,” Blake defended himself.

  “He’s earned it.” Bill backed him up.

  “That doesn’t mean you have,” Trina warned Bill. “You’re coming with us.”

  He gave Zach a pleading look. Zach shrugged and grinned.

  Lucy folded her arms, basking in the light family banter, and smiled. Did Carter Hughes know how lucky he was to have this? Not that she knew anything about him personally other than the carefully curated tidbits that had been revealed in interviews and on his website, but this life was so different from what she’d assumed a celebrity’s home life would be. Carter Hughes was one lucky man. And yet, Lucy’s mind wasn’t on Carter as much as it was on his brother, Zach. What a mystery he was turning out to be.

  He stood beside her, waving at his family as they pulled out. “Ahh.” He exhaled slowly and completely. “Silence.” The word was communication of his relief, but one touched by humor. “Kudos to you for putting up with them so long.”

  Lucy took her cue from him, listening to the world around her. All she could hear were a few songbirds and the breeze rustling the new spring leaves. It was nice, but not as nice as hanging out with his family. “I enjoyed it.” She grabbed the keys for the concession stand and a tape measure from the front seat of her pickup.

  He gave her a sideways, don’t-lie-to-me look.

  “I’m serious. I kind of envy you.” She started walking toward the all-purpose building that housed the cameras, sound equipment, restrooms, and concession stand. “In here.” Gravel crunched softly underfoot. “I don’t think I’ve ever been part of a family gathering like that. I’m an only child, and both my parents have passed, so . . .”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.

  “It’s okay.” It was what it was. “My mom passed when I was five, so I don’t have a lot of memories. I think I might remember her taking care of me when I scraped my knee once.” There were a couple other important memories, but she didn’t want to focus on those now. Her feelings fluctuated, but today was a good day. “My dad made sure I had a great childhood. We made lots of memories.” She looked around her. Every inch of this property brought another memory of their time together. “Many of them right here.”

  “Then your father owned the drive-in?”

  “He did.” The lock to the concession building was sticking. She fought with it, jiggling the key to jar it loose. She’d need to bring some WD-40 next time she came by. “Actually, my mother owned it first.”

  “Really?” He reached around her, presumably to save her from fighting with the lock and key. She caught a hint of cologne, and when his fingers touched hers as he reached for the key, she about melted into his chest behind her. Though she knew what he was doing, she looked up at him automatically, his chin over her shoulder. His look was a question, and she stepped back reluctantly, giving him room to open the door.

  Even once she’d stepped back, the question in his eyes remained. He’d asked her something . . . about how the drive-in had gone from her mom to her dad to her. Right. “My dad liked to
say that my mom gave him the world—the world through his windshield.”

  “I like that.” The lock turned for him, and he opened the door, holding it so she could go through. “If movies aren’t how we experience the world—”

  “Well . . .” She could think of several—if not most—movies that weren’t even remotely realistic.

  “And other worlds,” he clarified.

  “If that isn’t true …” Lucy walked to one of the big picture windows in the dining room and put her hands on the dusty sill, peering through the dirt-smeared glass. “I used to sit here and color while Dad worked. It was right here I watched Signs.” She patted the nearest table. “I think I was about seven?” She turned back to the room and then walked as she spoke to the space behind the counter. “A little young for a movie like that, at least without supervision, which is why I think I only saw parts of it from inside here. But anyway, I was so freaked out! I was sure some alien was going to break through the glass and snatch me. So Dad let me come behind the counter and hand out boxes of candy when customers asked for them.”

  “Started you working young, did he? There are these things called child labor laws . . .”

  Lucy chuckled softly, her answer to his rhetorical question. She liked the way Zach’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “He’d be pretty proud of you for starting up the drive-in again, I bet.”

  “He probably would.” She couldn’t admit—out loud, anyway—that he most definitely would. The two of them had talked about it many times. Right before he’d died, he’d brought it up again, begging her to give it a shot. But that meant a whole lot of risk—personally, professionally, and financially—that she wasn’t sure she was ready to invest. She didn’t want to think about it right then, so she changed the subject. “Your family was so amazing, so kind to me.”

  “It was their pleasure, really.”

  She smiled and sighed, but then decided it was time to move on to the reason she’d hung back. “I wanted to measure this nook to see if I could find a shelving system or cabinet that would fit in here.” She pulled the tape measure off her hip.