Kisses in the Rain

by Pamela Browning

  "He's only communicating," Martha said afterward. "It's not as though Davey has tantrums often. He's learning how to let his feelings out. He's using a tantrum to tell us what he thinks of something. If we keep encouraging him to communicate verbally, he won't have temper tantrums anymore."

  Martha's instincts were astonishing. Upon reflection, Nick agreed that she was probably right. Even a temper tantrum was more reassuring than Davey's former stony silence.

  Hallie showed no signs of returning to Williwaw Lodge. Wanda's healing went slowly, and without the use of one hand, Wanda couldn't very well keep up with the care of her five grandchildren. Hallie told Nick that if he was smart he'd keep Martha at the lodge forever.

  Nick had begun to think the same thing himself. He just didn't know how he was going to bring it about, that was all.

  * * *

  Weather-wise, the last Monday in July was one of the worst days since Martha had arrived in Ketchikan. A smoky fog settled over the town, and air traffic was restricted. The wind whistled through cracks in the Bagel Barn and tore around the buildings of the town, driving sodden refuse ahead of it. To top it all off, Martha felt the beginnings oí a sore throat.

  "We might as well go home," Randy said in discouragement as he stared unhappily at the boats heaving against the dock. "We won't get too many customers anyway."

  "A couple of cruise ships are going to arrive today, not to mention the ferry," Martha replied stubbornly. "There's no point in missing out on any customers." She hated to give up before the day even started.

  "All I can say is that I hope our customers like soggy bagels," Randy said.

  Martha was dispiritedly counting out change to a customer when she saw a familiar dapper figure walking rapidly up the ramp from a ferry that had just docked. The man was particularly noticeable because he seemed to be in a hurry while the other passengers meandered listlessly through the rain, huddling under dripping umbrellas as they unfolded their new street maps.

  "That's Sidney!" exclaimed Martha as a feeling of dread clamped down on her. She'd had no idea that the busy Sidney ever indulged in surprise visits.

  Sidney approached the Bagel Barn like a man with a mission. "Martha! How're things? Not so busy today, right? I thought I'd drop by, see how things are going! I was looking over the town of Sitka for a new Bagel Barn, I couldn't catch my flight out of there because of the weather, and I had to take the ferry instead. The ferry stops here, so I thought to myself, 'Sidney, you'd better say hello to Martha.' Say, is there anywhere nearby where we can talk business?" He noticed Randy inside the Bagel Barn for the first time. "Hey, who are you?"

  "I'm Randy," Randy said, sticking his hand out the front of the Bagel Barn. Sidney's eyebrows flew up, and for one awful moment Martha was afraid that Sidney wasn't going to shake Randy's hand. He did, though, just in time.

  "I suppose I have some explaining to do," Martha said. She was prepared to back up Randy one hundred percent. If it weren't for Randy, sales wouldn't be as good as they were.

  "Well, let's find a place out of the rain," Sidney said with the first hint of grumpiness she'd ever detected in him.

  Martha took Sidney to the café where she and Nick so often went for chili. She realized as soon as they sat down that it had been a mistake. Sidney couldn't find anything on the menu he wanted to order, and he proclaimed that chili interfered with his digestion. He looked exhausted, and for the first time Martha noticed that skin drooped from his jowls. Finally they both ordered a cup of coffee, and Sidney said abruptly, "All right. What's with Randy?"

  "He helped me put up the Bagel Barn when I first got here, and I hired him because I needed someone. I had a hunch he'd be a terrific worker. And he is. Why, he's—"

  "Never mind, never mind. You know I want pretty girls working in my Bagel Barns. Fire him."

  Surely he didn't mean it.

  "I can't do that," Martha said. "I could never find another employee as helpful, as enterprising, or as loyal as Randy."

  "Randy. Do you know that I thought he was a female? I thought it was spelled R-A-N-D-I or something cute like that."

  "Sidney, I need Randy."

  "Never mind that. Get rid of him and find a girl. A pretty girl like you. Which brings up another thing. Why aren't you wearing a dress and the checkered apron like you're supposed to?"

  "Everybody wears jeans in Ketchikan. It's a casual place. Anyway, jeans are fine to wear in what is supposed to be a representation of a barn. And the apron looks silly with jeans. In this weather I needed my windbreaker, so that's what I'm wearing."

  "Martha, Martha. Girls—women, I mean—who work in my Bagel Barns wear dresses and aprons, and that's that."

  "It seems to me you should be more flexible and let the conditions at each Bagel Barn dictate the correct way of dressing." Martha regarded Sidney coolly; he might be her boss, but he had promised her a certain autonomy in running this Bagel Barn, and she was using good judgment in making her decisions.

  "You let me decide what my employees wear. Stick to business, Martha."

  "I am sticking to business."

  "Your sales figures look good, Martha. I'll say that for you." Sidney whipped a laptop out of his briefcase, powered it up, and pulled up a spreadsheet.

  "You should be proud of how well you've done these first few weeks," he continued. He bent closer to look at the figures. "I notice your order for lox is way down. Any explanation for that?"

  "I'm selling Alaskan salmon on the bagels. It's smoked with alder wood by a local firm, and the customers love it." She sat back, ready to accept the praise she was sure would come her way.

  "Alaskan salmon, huh? What's wrong with plain old lox?" He narrowed his eyes and waited.

  Martha quickly explained how tourists loved Alaskan salmon and how lox wasn't really salmon but trout. All the selling points that had worked on her didn't make any difference to Sidney.

  "I don't know about this, Martha. It sounds like a good way to ruin a perfectly good bagel." He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. "Tastes like turpentine. I should've ordered something else."

  "Sidney, I'm proud of my business decisions. For instance, the chocolate-chip cookies. I was going to wait to tell you about this, but since you're here I'll tell you now."

  He scowled at her. "Something tells me I won't like this."

  "Sidney, I've developed this wonderful chocolate-chip cookie recipe, and I've been selling the cookies at the Bagel Barn. I package two giant cookies in cellophane, sell the package for four dollars, and so far the packages of cookies are outselling the bagels almost two to one. I'm going to keep on selling them, too." Again she waited for his praise. After all, everyone else had praised her cookies. Why shouldn't he?

  Sidney sputtered and appeared, for once, to be speechless. His expression settled into one of violated outrage. "Cookies? You're selling these cookies you make in my Bagel Barn?"

  "Yes, and you'll have to try them."

  "But you say they're outselling bagels!"

  "Sidney, my cookies are making money! It's an original recipe! And I developed them on my own time! Why, I think it would be a good idea if we hired a bakery to bake the cookies from this recipe in quantity and shipped them fresh to every Bagel Barn in the country!"

  "That, Martha, is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! Cookies at a Bagel Barn? You must be crazy!"

  "Sidney, didn't you hear me? They're making money! They're delicious!"

  "I'm outraged that you sell these cookies of yours in my Bagel Barn without my consent. That's insubordination. Add that to the fact that your weekly orders have come in late a couple of times and you can see that I have good reason to be annoyed with you." Sidney glared at her over his coffee, which was now cold.

  She was even more stunned when Sidney stood up from the table in the booth and tossed down a few bills. "I'm going back to San Francisco. You get rid of that Randy and stop selling the cookies. I don't want to get the locals mad at us, so you can keep on selling the
Alaskan salmon if you insist. I'll expect your orders on time in the future."

  With one final glance of total fury, Sidney stomped out the door.

  Chapter 13

  Sidney's visit had been a total disaster. If only Martha had had some inkling that he was coming! Where was the authority he'd promised her? She had no authority at all if she couldn't make decisions concerning the Bagel Barn she managed.

  What was she going to do? She couldn't fire Randy. Aside from the fact that he was doing a wonderful job, she felt a certain loyalty toward him, just as she was sure Randy felt toward her. And her cookies—her delicious cookies! Why wouldn't Sidney even try one?

  She roused herself out of her misery, pulled on her damp windbreaker and went running through the rain back to the Bagel Barn. If it wasn't too late, she'd insist that Sidney taste one of her cookies, just one. Better yet, she'd give him some to take on the ferry with him. Surely she could convince him that they ought to sell cookies in Bagel Barns.

  But when she arrived breathlessly at the Bagel Barn she saw the ferry steaming out of the harbor, its wake widening as it left the dock behind.

  "Did Sidney stop by here on his way back to the ferry?" she asked Randy.

  Randy looked perplexed. "All he did was stick his head in the door and shout, 'You're fired!' What did I do wrong, Martha?"

  Martha sank against the counter. "Nothing. Except perhaps be born a boy."

  "What?"

  Martha sighed. "Randy, Sidney has this prejudice against hiring men to work in the Bagel Barns. He wants pretty girls who wear dresses and aprons." She gestured down at her windbreaker and blue jeans. "You can imagine," she said ruefully, "what he thought of this outfit."

  Randy's eyes bulged. "Did he fire you, too?"

  She shook her head. "No. But he said I can't sell cookies anymore."

  "Not sell cookies?"

  "Well, that's what he said. I'm supposed to fire you, stop selling cookies, and wear a dress and the red checkered apron."

  "I guess I don't have a job then," said Randy, his perplexity turning to sadness. "That's too bad, 'cause I've always liked working here."

  "Wait a minute," Martha said. She didn't like this. She didn't like anything about it. She didn't believe in sex discrimination of any kind. And she wasn't going to fire Randy. Her heart ached for him because she knew he needed this job.

  "But you said—"

  "Never mind what anyone said. You still have a job here, Randy. And I'm not about to stop selling cookies. Let's close up now. You'll report to work tomorrow as usual." Briskly she shoved the cream cheese and jelly into the refrigerator, and she gathered their unsold cookies and stored them in plastic containers.

  "Are you sure, Martha?" Randy said as she locked up. He looked so forlorn as he stood beside her in the softly falling rain that it only strengthened her resolve.

  "I'm sure," she said, before hurrying off to the cannery to meet Nick.

  * * *

  "What are you going to do?" Nick asked, staring at the plastic containers of cookies that Martha had piled on his desk. In the background clattered the noise of the cannery, but in Nick's office, with the door closed, it was quiet enough that Martha could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

  "I'm going to pay Randy out of my own pocket," she said.

  "Is that wise?"

  "My expenses are minimal. Sidney provides the apartment and the car. I was saving most of my money so that I could rent or buy one of those old Victorian houses I liked so much in San Francisco. I can afford to pay Randy."

  Nick leaned back in his chair. It creaked. He tried to think. He didn't know if Martha was making the right decision.

  Finally he cleared his throat and spoke. "That's very kind of you, Martha. What if Sidney finds out? He made it clear that he wants only pretty women working in his Bagel Barns."

  "Pretty girls—that's what he said," Martha replied bitterly. "He always calls women girls."

  "Nevertheless," Nick said patiently, "he won't like it if he finds out that you've kept Randy. It could cost you your job."

  Martha's eyes sparked with defiance. "I don't care. It isn't right."

  "He's still the boss."

  "Maybe I don't want to work for him anymore."

  "I'm not sure you can decide that on the basis of Sidney's surprise visit today."

  "Nick, when I go back to San Francisco I'll have a lot more contact with Sidney. He's not the way I thought he was when I met him. Now he's being totally unreasonable. Today I saw a tyrant, not a levelheaded, reasonable businessman. I didn't like the Sidney I saw today, Nick."

  The clock ticked on, and Nick sighed. "It's your decision, Martha." His voice softened. She looked so disillusioned, sitting across from him in her wet jeans and with damp curls fringing her forehead. "My dear Cheechako, I don't want you to leave at the end of the summer. If you're not working for Sidney, you won't have to leave." The words hung in midair. He waited to see what her reaction would be.

  Martha leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. "Nick, I can't talk about that now. I can't take any more heavy discussions today."

  "Whatever you say," he said. He stood up and came to stand beside her chair. His hand reached out and massaged her shoulder for a moment. It slid up to her neck, where it cupped her nape, and then he bent and kissed her lingeringly on the lips.

  "You shouldn't kiss me, Nick. I'm getting a sore throat."

  "I'll take my chances," he said. His eyes linked with hers. In them she saw interest, concern and a love that he never tried to hide. She was suddenly grateful to him for all the happiness he'd brought into her life.

  "Oh, Nick," she said, reaching out to wrap her arms around his waist. He knelt in front of her and held her close for several moments. She rested her head on his broad shoulder.

  "You've had a hard day," he said tenderly. "Let's go somewhere and have a quiet meal, just the two of us."

  "Without Davey?" They usually picked up Davey at Wanda's if they were going to eat in town, and Davey went with them. This had ensured a steady diet of McDonald's hamburgers, because Davey was getting to like them almost as much as he liked chocolate.

  "Not Davey. Just you and me in a nice, quiet, candlelit restaurant. We'll talk this over at length. Would that help?"

  "Yeah," Martha said, disengaging herself from his embrace. "I'll go to the ladies' room and try to get myself looking half-decent first, and maybe I'll calm down a bit. I'm so keyed up that I can hardly think straight."

  "A glass or two of wine might help that," he said with a smile.

  She looked at him, and it seemed to her that she'd never get enough of looking. He was a tall, rugged, handsome man, and he was in love with her. She knew the way his ears stood out from his head, the cowlick on his crown, the whiteness of his teeth in the dark. When she was with him, it was all she could do not to be touching him every minute, because touching him was such a tantalizing pleasure. She had known it would be from the first moment she'd seen him, and she remembered how she'd longed for his touch at first. Now she could touch him anytime he was near. It was a luxury she would never be able to take for granted, and just to prove that she wouldn't, she reached out and laid her finger against his arm.

  He looked at her questioningly.

  "I just wanted to touch you," she explained, and by the answering look in his eyes she knew he understood. He understood everything, always.

  Thank goodness Nick understood, Martha thought a few minutes later as she stood before the mirror in the ladies' room and tried to run a comb through her tangled curls. Without him she'd feel so alone here in Ketchikan.

  She gazed into the mirror with dawning awareness. The person who stared back at her wore her hair in haphazard ringlets that were drying stiffly all over her head. She wore no eye makeup, and her lipstick seemed to have disappeared. Her skin was no longer milk white; instead it was turning a pale amber color, though how she could have become suntanned in this place where it rained most of the
time, she couldn't imagine. Instead of one of her former color-coordinated outfits, she wore a windbreaker and a pair of jeans so faded that once she would have thrown them out. Who was this Martha Rose?

  Sidney had changed. There was no doubt about that. But the most peculiar thing was that Martha had changed too. She wasn't the same person who had arrived in Ketchikan. She was someone entirely different.

  And her own metamorphosis was even harder to understand than Sidney's.

  * * *

  Martha didn't fire Randy. And she didn't stop selling chocolate-chip cookies. She stopped selling them at the Bagel Barn, though.

  This was Nick's idea.

  "You know," he said one Sunday afternoon when they had taken Davey to see the totem poles at Totem Bight Park, "you may have to be like Raven in Tlingit mythology." All the way to the park Nick had regaled them with Native myths, much to Davey's delight and Martha's mystification. "Never mind," Nick had said. "The totems will help you understand."

  But Martha didn't even pretend to comprehend the stories the Native totems told. Their carved images weren't always readily identifiable as the beavers or fish or whales or ravens that Nick told her they were. Now he was telling her she should be like Raven. How?

  "I'm not even sure what question to ask you after a statement like that." She smiled up at him and slid her arm through his. A totem loomed over them, casting a shadow in their path.

  "In the Tlingit legends, Raven outwitted Eagle. That's because Raven knew how to change his form."

  "I don't know what in the world this has to do with anything, Nick," Martha said as she kept an eye on Davey, who was trying to shinny up one of the totems by planting one sneakered foot firmly in the mouth of what Martha thought must be Wolf. Or was it Raven, changed into Wolf? While Martha was mulling this over, Nick retrieved Davey. Then, with Davey skipping along the path in front of them, Nick explained what he meant.

  "You could outwit Sidney by selling your cookies at my salmon store. That way you still get to sell your cookies, only in a different way. You may have to change their form, like Raven did his. Instead of packaging two large cookies for an immediate snack, offer smaller cookies in a bag or box so that the tourists can easily carry them back to the ship the same way they carry the salmon they buy from me."