The House Guests

by Emilie Richards

  “He’ll receive a trophy. The other boys will carry the winner through town on their shoulders. And then the Glendi begins.” Travis brushed off his pants. “And there you have it.”

  Amber had been unexpectedly moved. Not by the liturgy, since she’d understood little of it, but by the adherence to tradition, the sense of being part of something that had been happening for years.

  “Thanks for explaining. You made it so much more interesting.”

  “So we have choices now. I need to stop by Yiayia’s.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Perfect. And then we can head over to the park for the Glendi. They’ll have food, dancing, lots of families hanging out together. But I have another idea, if you’re interested.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “When we’re done at Yiayia’s, let’s ditch the crowd and go to a quiet little restaurant I’ve been wanting to try. Then I’ll take you home.”

  She knew better than to say yes. Attending this celebration together had been one thing, but eating at a restaurant felt like a date. She started to refuse. The words wouldn’t form.

  “That sounds good,” she said instead. Because, despite warnings zinging between her heart and brain, it did.

  She liked this man. She liked his warm, easy smile, the way he listened to her opinions, the way he’d gone to bat for her when she’d been evicted. Travis was different from the other men who had tried—and failed—to get close to her. Reporter or not, Amber had never been just a good story to him. From the beginning he had recorded her plight but seen her humanity.

  He took her arm so they could stay together as they wound through the crowd. And when he didn’t drop it right away, she didn’t protest.

  21

  SAVANNAH HAD ALWAYS TAGGED along with her parents if they came to Tarpon Springs for Epiphany. They hadn’t made it every year. Sometimes at Christmas they’d had to visit her grandparents in Seattle, a long flight and a short stay. Her grandparents liked their quiet condo better than they liked their son and his family. They tidied their guest room and came along for the obligatory day or two of sightseeing, but their farewell was always more enthusiastic than their welcome.

  She’d spoken to them twice since her father’s death. Her grandmother had advised her to put the past behind her and get on with her life.

  Savannah didn’t like her grandmother.

  Yiayia, on the other hand, was hard not to like. Savannah and the others had seen the dive and been to the Glendi. Now Yiayia’s house was their last stop.

  Yiayia greeted them immediately, raved about Helia’s hair, which was now cotton candy pink on top and shaved on the sides, and welcomed Minh as a fellow immigrant.

  She embraced Will right before she left to greet more guests, and Savannah watched his cheeks turn red. “Your mother was already here,” Yiayia scolded. “She did not eat enough. You make her a plate to take home.”

  Savannah was relieved to have the introductions over and no crisis—at least she hoped not—from anything Yiayia had said. Yiayia shooed them to tables loaded with food and insisted they pile their plates high.

  The yard looked much the way it had at Thanksgiving, and once again loudspeakers were belting out Greek music. The crowd was a little smaller because people were coming and going.

  “Does she always do this?” Will asked, when they were out of earshot and Helia and Minh were filling plates. “Have a party for every holiday?”

  Savannah didn’t know. “We only came for Epiphany, but somebody told me this is nothing. Easter is supposed to be twice as festive.”

  “You’re so lucky.”

  “I’m not related to her. She just pretends. She’s related to Cassie. That’s all.”

  “Yiayia isn’t pretending.” He glanced sideways. “Do you have other family? You know, blood family?”

  “Grandparents on my father’s side. Gen’s parents are missionaries who run an orphanage in Nigeria. I met them once, and Gen says one day we’ll go there and visit. I have doubts. They weren’t exactly friendly the first time.”

  “Why?”

  Savannah usually didn’t talk about the strange custody arrangement her father and mother had worked out, because it was too hard to explain. But for some reason she wanted to tell Will.

  “Nobody’s ever really said so, but my parents only got married so I wouldn’t be illegitimate. You know, a bastard.”

  “Not a good way to think of yourself, Sav.”

  “Yeah, but almost correct. They split up pretty much right after I was born. My father wanted to raise me, so that’s how they worked it out. They were on different coasts, so, like, shared custody was impossible. Anyway, my grandparents are super religious. Missionaries, right? And I think they’re still angry at Gen for the whole setup. I’m thinking I won’t be visiting them anytime soon.”

  “Maybe I’m lucky I don’t know my family.”

  Savannah thought about that as they dished up plates and later after Helia and Minh had gone off on their own and Will was driving back home.

  “So...you don’t know your family at all?” she asked, as if the conversation had been just a moment ago.

  “Just my mother. I’ve never met her relatives, and she doesn’t talk about them.”

  “You really don’t have a father?”

  “My mom says he’s dead, but I remind her of him. He wasn’t married, so it wasn’t adultery. That’s about all I know.”

  Savannah watched as he turned into Sunset Vista and waited for the security gate to open before he continued at a snail’s pace. “I guess you don’t know his name?”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s weird, Will. Was he a serial killer or something?”

  He strangled a laugh. “I don’t think so. She says he was a good man.”

  “Well, what else would she say?”

  “I doubt he was Ted Bundy.”

  “I didn’t mean to make it sound like he was.”

  “I like it when you apologize.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t count on it ever happening again.” She saw they were nearly home. “You really deserve to know more, don’t you? You’re old enough to drive this car and work part-time and, well, everything else. If you want to know, shouldn’t you ask her?”

  “You think I haven’t?”

  “You’re just such a goody-goody, I’ll give you some advice. If you want something, you keep asking. Maybe with Amber you have to phrase it differently every time. You know, ask it this way and that. In different places, maybe. Casually and pointed. That kind of thing.”

  “Wear her down, you mean?” He sounded skeptical. “Is that working for you?”

  Savannah considered. “I haven’t measured my success rate. But yeah, sometimes. Mostly I didn’t have to find out big stuff like you do. I knew who my parents were. Mine was little stuff. Like curfews and going to parties.”

  “My mom’s life has been tough. I don’t know what it was like before I came on the scene, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t good.”

  “Your father had to be part of it.”

  “Yeah, that’s obvious. But if she doesn’t want me to know more, do I want to make her life harder with demands? I mean, I’m all she’s got.”

  “Doesn’t that seem kind of weird, too? I mean, your mom’s gorgeous. She’s smart and funny. Wouldn’t any man want to be with her? Or...woman?”

  He snorted. “Man.”

  “You know for sure?”

  “She goes out with men.” He pulled into the driveway and clicked the garage door opener. “Sometimes.”

  “You’re going to move away one day.” She frowned and gave that some thought. “I hope you are, right?”

  “She wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “Then she’ll be alone, and
her life might be tougher. So if you make it a little tougher now by asking about your father, maybe asking will, you know, make her tell you. And maybe that will free her a little to have a social life.”

  “That makes no sense at all.”

  “I just think you have a right to know exactly who you are, even if it hurts your mother a little. I read this article about adopted kids and how important it is for them to find out about their birth parents. Not all of them, maybe, but a lot.”

  “Even if the news is bad?”

  “At least they know. It’s better than living with secrets and wondering the worst. And I think maybe if your mother finally tells you, she’ll feel better and be able to move on.”

  He pulled into the garage and parked as Savannah finished up. “If you’re old enough to help support your little family, you’re old enough to know its history.”

  “You don’t let up, do you?”

  She considered. “I’m demonstrating.”

  “I got the picture.” He reached around and took the plate he’d heaped high for his mother at Yiayia’s insistence.

  They both got out. “Hey, we have the stuff for ice cream sundaes,” Savannah said. “I could make them.”

  “You didn’t eat enough at Yiayia’s?”

  “You’re probably already hungry.”

  He smiled just enough to let her know he wasn’t holding a grudge.

  * * *

  The sun had set by the time Travis walked Amber to the door of Cassie’s house. They’d had so much fun at the restaurant that she hadn’t even realized how late it was. Tonight she’d learned that Travis had worked in food service during college, and as a bachelor, he tended to eat out a lot. So he was something of a connoisseur.

  “And another thing,” she said on the front stoop. “Four different people checked on us. From my perspective, that’s excessive and pushy.”

  “And our server only checked once. The rest of the time they were strangers.”

  He had a journalist’s eye. She was impressed he’d counted. “A lot of restaurants are trending away from having their servers establish a primary relationship with customers. Some of it seems to be the way they organize the dining room and scatter servers from end to end. One person takes an order, then someone else delivers the food, and managers or assistants or even the host who seated them stop by to be sure all is well. I’ve never thought that was a good idea. I like to be the one they ask if they need something or have a complaint.”

  He laughed. “You want them to complain?”

  “We make our living from tips. If people feel they know us and can depend on us, they’re more generous. The best dining rooms keep servers in their own section. Tickets are printed wirelessly. Bills are presented and credit cards swiped at the table. Tonight I was waiting for the bartender to show up and ask how you liked your Manhattan.”

  “We both liked the food, though.”

  “If I hated it, I would certainly have had lots of evidence to back me up. You ordered enough for an army.”

  He put one hand on the door and leaned against it. “It will all get eaten eventually. And aren’t you glad I ordered the pasta with artichokes, even though you thought it was too much, on top of the grouper?”

  “And the three appetizers and the extra sides. Oh, and different salads.”

  “Seems to me you ate your share and mine.”

  “I’m not going to eat again for a week. I’ve done nothing all day but eat.”

  “Except the seafood salad. You only ate one bite.”

  “I’m not a fan of calamari.”

  “You’re living in the wrong town.”

  “It didn’t feel like it today,” she said, before she could consider her words.

  He was pleased. “So you had fun? You like being with me?”

  She had liked it, although she wondered how a man who made his living as a freelance journalist could afford to entertain her that well. She hoped they hadn’t eaten their way through his entire monthly food budget.

  “No?” he asked, tilting his head in question when she didn’t answer.

  She couldn’t do anything but smile, because he was so appealing as he tried to get her to confirm what had been perfectly obvious. “Travis, you are really hard not to like.”

  “Which means you might be willing to enjoy my company in the future?”

  She searched for an answer that wasn’t a commitment. “Stranger things have happened.”

  He pushed away from the door and opened it. “And you’re sure I can’t pawn off some of the doggie bags? Will would probably love what we had.”

  “Nope. This way you won’t have to cook all week, and these days we eat a lot of our meals at the Kouzina.” She started inside, and then she turned to face him. “Thank you for a wonderful day.”

  He rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers, so fast she wasn’t prepared. Not quite like a friend, but not like somebody determined to become her lover. He understood her well, which concerned her.

  He straightened. “You’re welcome.” And then he was gone.

  She was smiling when she closed the door behind her. There were no lights on in the great room, so either Cassie hadn’t made it home yet, or she was in her suite washing off the remnants of a day serving food under a tent at the park. She thought she heard music coming from Savannah’s room.

  At the door of their suite she knocked to let Will know she was entering. Inside, the door between the sitting room and the bedroom was open, and she crossed to peer inside.

  Will was sprawled on the bed using the laptop they shared. He didn’t look happy.

  “Hey, did you have fun today?” she asked.

  He looked up. “It was good.”

  “Did you get enough to eat? Or do you want to make something now?”

  “I’m full. Look what I’m doing.” He turned the laptop to face her. She couldn’t tell what was on the screen from that distance, so she walked closer and bent over.

  The last website she’d visited was on the screen. She remembered now that she’d closed the computer without getting off the site and erasing her history. She’d done exactly what she tried so hard to avoid. She had left a footprint for Will to follow.

  Had she left more? Her mind raced through the websites she’d visited lately. But here? At the library? At the community college?

  “Are you looking for a new place to move?” His tone was just short of a rebuke.

  The page read “Small Towns, Big Rewards.” Now she remembered that she’d been checking out some of the places she’d investigated the day Cassie showed up at the library. Frantically she continued to search back through her mind, praying that this was the only site she had checked on this computer.

  She perched on the edge of the bed and tried to look relaxed. “Not seriously,” she said, with a smile. “But you know me. I’m always looking for the next great opportunity.”

  “Mom, a lot of your so-called great opportunities weren’t. You know what I mean? And I thought we were staying here until I graduate.”

  Will was rarely angry. She didn’t know how she’d given birth to someone so even-tempered, since neither she nor Billy had come from easygoing families. Many times she’d tried to imagine their life together if Will had been prone to acting out or temper tantrums.

  He was angry now, though. She could see it in his eyes. He was angry and hurt that she was looking for a way out when he was growing happier and happier here.

  She formed her next sentences slowly and carefully. “You’re right. I guess I’ve found enough not-so-great opportunities that I keep expecting the roof to cave in here. We came close, remember? When we were evicted?”

  “Yeah, well, we have a roof over our heads now, and Cassie and Savannah really want us here. So why are you looking for the next town?
”

  She made herself comfortable against the footboard of the bed. “Habit?”

  “You’re making friends, and Yiayia thinks you’re great. She sent home a big plate of food for you.”

  Her stomach turned over. “It’s really nothing for you to worry about,” she said. “I was just fooling around on the internet. Wasting time, I guess.”

  “You could have a real life here, if you just made up your mind to stay. Travis likes you a lot. That’s pretty obvious.”

  “Don’t play Cupid.”

  “I’d like a father, you know?” He narrowed his eyes. “As far as I can tell I’m a frigging miracle.”

  She wondered what had brought this on, but hadn’t she known that the confrontation would come at some point? Hadn’t she stayed awake at nights preparing what she should say?

  She schooled herself to sound calm. “You’re angry that I’ve told you so little.”

  “You think?” He sat up straighter, crossing his legs campfire style. “It’s my past you’re keeping secret. And what will happen if you die suddenly? How will I know if I’m going to be prone to certain diseases? Or—”

  “You’re worried about your health? You’ve hardly ever been sick, Will. Anything serious would have shown up by now.”

  “I’m worried about my mental health. Not knowing who I am isn’t good for it, you know?”

  She pressed her lips together and tried, just one more time, to think of a better way out of this. But nothing occurred to her now, just as nothing had on all those sleepless nights.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I really am. I... It’s not a pretty story, sweetheart. And nothing good can come out of it. When I’m done, you still won’t have a family.” She paused. “But maybe you’ll understand why not.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  He was so rarely sarcastic that stopped her. “For the record, you’re not the only one this has been hard on. Okay?”

  He nodded after a moment.

  “You have to promise that whatever I tell you will be between us. And that you won’t go to the people I’m going to tell you about, looking for more answers. Otherwise I’m not going to tell you a thing.”