As Lily walked back out to the parking lot, mulling such thoughts, an idea began to take root.
Chapter 7
Lily rolled slowly to a stop in front of Faye’s house. It was a complete contradiction to the brusque, world-worn woman she’d met at the bar. It blended much more with the Faye she’d seen at the hospital, a side Lily would bet few people knew.
Dad obviously knew.
That thought set off a cascade of unwanted emotions. Her intellectual side said it was good her father had someone to share his life with. Wonderful, in fact. After all, her mother had left the family well over twenty years ago. No one had heard from her since. Lily and her siblings were scattered on the winds, leaving her father alone. It was perfectly natural for him to take up with… a woman.
But the part of Lily that clung to the security of knowing her childhood was there, ready to retrieve undisturbed from her father’s house, felt the disruption. Someone else had entered the picture, changing the landscape. The child deep inside Lily wanted nothing more than to send that person away, pretend nothing had changed.
How was she going to handle this? Go in there, acting like she already knew; that, naturally, she and her dad had discussed his love life? Enter with cold and disapproving looks? Maybe rush in with tearful accusations of secrets and disregard for family?
Of course, she would do none of those things. She’d knock. Faye would answer the door and they’d treat each other like the awkward strangers they were.
Lily got out of the car and paused, unwilling to rush things, clinging for a few precious seconds to the childhood that was about to be forever swept beyond her reach.
Faye lived in a yellow and white clapboard single-story house that looked like it had been built in the thirties, on a quiet tree-lined street near the center of town. A tiny porch with two small white pillars supporting the arched roof led to a round-topped front door. Very Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. On either side of the porch were white benches set behind the pillars, perpendicular to the front of the house. Behind those benches were latticework trellises supporting a bounty of bright red climbing roses.
Lily had tried to grow roses. Really tried. After fighting mildew, aphids and leaf-spot for three seasons, she dug up the pitiful, straggly, yellow-leafed things and put them out with the trash.
She looked at the house again. God, it looked like a postcard from the past. A past where Ozzie and Harriet sat around the dinner table with their boys and happily discussed the events of the day. The only thing missing was a white picket fence around the front yard. A far cry from a four-room apartment over a bar in which the children ate dinner alone night after night.
Lily got out and took a wide path to the front door, enabling her to get a look into the back yard. Well, damn. There it was, on the side of the house—the white picket fence, complete with an arched gate with black wrought-iron hinges.
An odd weight settled on her shoulders as she walked up the brick walk that led to the porch. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the heavy wood door. There was a tiny leaded-glass window in it, right at eye level. Lily tried to see inside without pressing her nose to the glass, but it was too dark on the other side. She listened for footsteps, any noise that said someone was inside.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Silence.
She finally did press her nose against the window, centering her right eye inside one of the tiny diamonds of glass. The drapes were closed in the living room, the interior swathed in shadow. She angled her head, trying to see down the hallway that led deeper into the house.
“Nobody home there.”
With a gasp, Lily spun around, her hand at her throat, her heart racing. A stoop-shouldered old man stood on the sidewalk with a huge puff of beige fur that had to be a cat tucked under his arm.
“I… uh… well ” Her cheeks heated.
“You Benny’s girl?”
Truth or lie? Lies always caught up in this town. “Yes. Do you know where they might be?”
The man rubbed the flat-faced cat under its nonexistent chin. “Second time today Sampson’s got out. Found him halfway to the square earlier. This time he was only in the Brookmans’ hedges.” He lifted the long-haired cat so they were face to face. Rubbing noses, he said in a voice normally reserved for babies, “He’s such a bad boy. Yes, he is. He knows better than to run off. Yes, he does.” He fussed with the kitty for a few more seconds, settling him on his shoulder like an infant. “I’m next door. Haven’t seen Faye today. Know she’s gone ’cause her car usually sits in the driveway, see it from my breakfast table. Got that little garage packed with gardening gadgets.”
Lily stepped off the porch.
“Might want to wipe that nose print off the glass. Faye’s very particular.” He turned and strolled toward the house next door.
Lily waited until the old man disappeared inside his own house. She glanced around to make certain no one else was snooping around, then wiped the glass clean. When she turned back around, she caught sight of the old man stepping back from the window that looked onto the alley between the houses. Suddenly Lily was certain that Sampson hadn’t escaped at all. It was just an excuse for the old man to nib into his neighbor’s business.
Yep, she thought, lies always catch up to a person in Glens Crossing—some lies faster than others.
There was only one place her father could be. He was just stubborn enough to have gone back to the Crossing House, fire inspectors be damned. Lily only hoped Faye had stayed with him. Someone needed to call 911 when the old fool fell through the floor and ended up in the basement.
As the bar came into sight, Lily’s aggravation was quickly swallowed by the sick feeling that rose from the pit of her stomach. Seeing the Crossing House in the light of day made her realize just how lucky her father had been. Pulling into the parking lot, she could see areas of the roof had been burned through. The lighted rectangular sign that stood on the peak of the roof appeared to have been the bull’s-eye for the lightning. It had been twisted into a U-shape and thrown toward the rear of the building, still anchored only by a single set of bolts. The fire appeared to have been most intense right where her dad’s bedroom was.
Only one car sat in the lot besides her father’s, which was still in its regular spot near the Dumpster. Faye drove a late-model silver mid-sized Buick four-door. A grandma car. Who would have thought?
Lily pulled up next to it, got out and looked around. Faye must have been foolish enough to go inside with her dad.
The first thing Lily noticed was the heavy smell that lingered in the air, charred wood, melted plastic and burned upholstery. Carefully entering through the rear door to the kitchen, she sloshed through about an inch of water on the linoleum floor. Although the fire hadn’t burned in the kitchen itself, the white walls were darkened by a film of greasy-looking soot. The light that came in through the single window was hardly enough for her to pick her way safely across the room. She took two more cautious steps and was about to call out for her dad when something touched her arm.
With a scream, she jumped away from the touch.
“It’s okay! Lily-girl, it’s me.”
“Henry!” She put a hand over her racing heart. “What are you doing in here?”
“Gotta get this place back up and running.” He pointed behind him to a mop and bucket he’d been using to sop up the water. “Benny thinks we can get it done in a week.”
Lily looked around. A month didn’t appear to be enough time, even with a crew of young men working 24/7. And she hadn’t even seen the worst of the damage yet.
“I’m sure the insurance will pay for someone to come in and do the cleanup. You and Dad should leave this to the professionals. It could be dangerous.”
“You sound like Faye. Heard her squawkin’ all the way out in the parking lot when I walked up. ‘Benny, darlin’, you shouldn’t…’ ‘Wait for the fire chief…’ ‘I told you it was dangerous…’ ” Henry did a fine im
itation of a nagging woman. “Damn mother hen,” he said with disgust. “If you women would just leave me and Benny alone, we’d get this taken care of.”
“Where is Dad?”
Henry jerked his pointy chin toward the bar. “In there with the hen.”
Just about that time, Lily heard a crash, followed by her father’s unintelligible shout. She’d made it to the swinging door before she heard Faye’s voice, soothing, calming—not at all henlike. “It’s gonna be fine. We’ll just have to take our time. I bet there’ll be plenty of folks to help.”
No one around here seemed to understand the concept of how insurance worked.
Lily pushed the door open just a crack. Her father slumped with his elbows on the bar, his head in his hands. The skeleton of a bar stool, its upholstered seat melted away, lay on its side near the front door, where he’d apparently flung it in frustration. Faye hovered just behind him, her hand rubbing his back, her lips pressed close to his ear. Lily could no longer hear what she said, just a soft, singsong cadence.
“Dad?”
His head jerked up and he sniffed. “Damn smoke smell’s makin’ my eyes water.”
Lily swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Mine, too.” She walked to him. Faye didn’t move away to offer them a moment alone. She remained next to him, a hand possessively on his shoulder. Her mascara had run in puddles under her eyes and long gray streaks down her cheeks. Lily couldn’t quite decipher the look Faye gave her. It wasn’t hostile, nor was it inviting. It felt more… challenging.
Lily was the first to look away. “Have you called the insurance company yet?”
Her dad nodded. The slow, heavy action made Lily’s stomach drop.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, fearing the answer. “You did have insurance, didn’t you?”
“Not enough. Building’s paid for. Didn’t think I’d ever be faced with this kind of catastrophe. My insurance guy kept nagging me to up the coverage. Told me I was risking my business in a crap shoot.” He gave a snort of derisive laughter. “ ’Til now, I’ve always had a lot of luck at craps.”
Lily put her hands on her hips and looked around. “Well, if there’s not enough insurance, we’ll just have to be creative.” She paused, considering if this was the time to broach the subject that had been picking up steam since she’d spoken to Bea at the hospital. Might as well get it out there and see if she could get the ball rolling. “This could actually be a great opportunity. We just need to look at it in the right light.”
Her dad looked sick. Faye looked like she’d like to pinch Lily’s head right off.
“Really.” Lily forged ahead. “There’s a whole lot of business to be had in this town that the Crossing House just isn’t getting. Now’s the perfect time to change the image, bring in some new clientele.”
Faye actually made a move in Lily’s direction.
Lily took a sidestep to put her father between them.
“That’s just ridiculous.” With Lily out of reach, Faye had to resort to a purely verbal attack. “What’s wrong with our ‘clientele’?” She said the word as if Lily had tried to dazzle them with a fancy foreign language.
Benny remained silent.
“All I’m saying is that there are a whole lot of people who would come in for dinner—families, elderly ladies, summer people—if we gave it an inviting pub atmosphere. Put a railing, or maybe a half-wall with some leaded glass panes on top, to separate the bar from the dining area to make it legal for minors. And use really rich colors, some thematic framed art and subdued lighting. Or we could go with a more nautical theme, capitalizing on the lake cottage look.”
“And what about our regular customers?” Faye said.
“Just because you update your business doesn’t mean you’re going to lose your regulars.”
“Our folks like the Crossing House just the way it is… was,” Faye said. “Put in a lot of fancy hoo-ha and they’ll go drink their beer at that shithole on Fourth Street.”
“Nobody in their right mind would touch a glass in that place,” Lily said. “The health department’s shut them down once already since I’ve been back here.”
Faye opened her mouth again, but Benny put a hand up to silence her.
“All this chatter is for nothing,” he said. “That ‘updating’ costs money, lots of money. Remember I said I had too little insurance, not too much.” There was an apology in his brown eyes, as if he’d let Lily down somehow.
Over her dad’s shoulder, Lily caught sight of Faye crossing her arms and lifting her chin in victory.
“Hmmm, it just seems a shame to let this opportunity slip past. The money would surely be made up quickly with increased business. Maybe we can stretch the budget by doing a lot of the work ourselves.”
Faye gave a snort that Lily ignored.
“Dad, you said the building’s paid for, right? You could get a loan to make up the shortfall from the insurance.”
He shook his head. “I can’t afford to be shut down long enough for us to poke along doing things ourselves. Besides, there are things we just don’t know anything about, electrical, plumbing—”
“Well, of course, we’ll have to hire help for things like that. But the cleanup, painting, decorating we could do.”
He put a hand on Lily’s shoulder. “It’s good that you want to help. I appreciate it, I really do. But I just don’t see how it could work.”
Lily looked around. Right now the place was a hopeless-looking mess. The second floor had to be even worse. “Please don’t dismiss it without thinking about it—at least overnight. You could double your business, maybe even triple it.”
“We can’t handle any more business,” Faye piped in. “Henry’s cooking fast as he can now.”
“Hire another cook to help Henry! For God’s sake, don’t let something like that—”
“Lily!” He then lowered his voice. “Don’t get so wound up. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. That’s all I’m asking.” The more she thought about it, the more excited she became about the idea. The Crossing House could be a gathering place for the community. Her father would own the most popular place in town. She looked around the room, suddenly feeling like she could set things right with one hand tied behind her back. “Now, where do you want me to start?”
“Who are you calling?”
Riley spun around at the sound of Bud’s voice. His heart leapt into his throat. He knew he’d get caught—it was just his luck.
He said quietly into the receiver, “Gotta go.” Dropping the phone back in its cradle, he said to Bud, “I was just checking in with my mom, making sure she can pick me up after work.”
Bud stood there, staring him in the eye, until Riley shifted and started toward the door.
“I’d better get back to work.” He’d almost made it out the door when Bud called him back.
“We’re going to do something different for a while.”
Riley’s spirits sank even lower. What could be more awful than scraping boat hulls? One thing was for certain: If Bud wanted him to do it, it was sure to somehow be worse. Maybe he had a horse out back and wanted Riley to shovel shit for the rest of the day.
Bud led him out to the gas pump on the dock. “There may be times when I can’t get out here to take care of the boaters. I want to make sure you know the procedures.”
Was he kidding? Bud thought he needed instructions to pump gas. This guy must think he was a complete moron.
Bud acted like he didn’t hear Riley’s deliberate grunt of annoyance. “Let’s see you gas up that inboard there.”
Riley went through the steps his grandpa had taught him, casting the occasional glance at Bud to let him know just how stupid he thought this whole exercise was.
Bud didn’t seem the least irritated by Riley’s pointed glares. He stood there, limp-limbed and relaxed.
When Riley slipped the nozzle back into the pump, he looked at Bud.
“Now start it.”
> Riley rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he climbed back into the boat and flipped on the blower and waited a few seconds.
Just as he was going for the key, Bud reached down from where he stood on the dock and plucked it from the ignition. “That’s fine.” He sounded like it wasn’t fine at all. He sounded pissed.
He turned around and walked away without another word.
“Hey!” Riley’s temper snapped. He’d taken about all of this crap he was going to. He jumped onto the dock and trotted after Bud, who kept right on walking. “Goddammit, stop!”
Bud turned around. The look on his face told Riley he’d gone from pissed to really pissed. For the slightest moment, Riley felt a prick of cold fear deep in his belly. There was something that went beyond just grouchy and rude in Bud, something that made Riley reconsider the stand he was about to take—at least for a second. Then he pulled in a breath and took another step forward. “What in the hell was that all about?” He jerked a finger toward the boat.
“Had to let my last help go because he kept forgetting to turn on the blower first. Damn kid seemed determined to blow himself up.” As if that explained everything, Bud started toward the office again.
“So that’s it? You were looking for me to blow myself up?” Riley’s anger threatened to lash wildly, like an unmanned fire hose.
Bud called over his shoulder, “Guess I can’t count on that now, can I?”
That was it. The pressure burst forth. Logic be damned. Riley ran after Bud, throwing himself low, aiming to tackle him at the waist.
Riley had no idea how it happened. There was a blur of movement. Suddenly the jagged crushed stone was digging into the flesh of his back and the air had been knocked from his lungs. Bud knelt over him, his forearm pressed against Riley’s neck. That dangerous look had focused into something sharp and deadly.
As he struggled without success to draw in a scrap of air, Riley saw his brief and uneventful life flash before his eyes. This guy was going to kill him.
The Road Home Page 11