But there were no magic words, so once I finished the last dish, I dried off my hands and turned to her. “Ma’am?” I said. “Mrs. Cashwell?”
“You can call me Lorena.”
I hesitated just for a second, but what real choice did I have? “Um, I noticed your sign in the window. See, I don’t have enough money to pay your, er—Jeremy’s, um, grandfather—”
“Just call a spade a spade. My rat bastard husband.”
I couldn’t help it. My mouth fell open. Close your mouth, Pea, you’ll catch flies, Sister always said. But that sweet little old lady had just said rat bastard.
“Close your mouth, honey. You’ll catch flies.”
Okay, now I was flabbergasted. I had been at the point of asking Fate some hard questions. My faith had wavered now and again, I had to admit.
But when that woman, who held the keys to getting me back on the road with money left to find Sister, spoke to me in my own sister’s very words I had just that moment been recalling, well, there was no way it was not another sign. An honest-to-God bolt from the blue. “Er, yes, ma’am. That is—” And here I considered that the aforementioned rat bastard had my car and an equally important role in sending me on my way. “If you say so. I just met him, after all.”
She laughed, and eyes that she’d bequeathed to Jeremy sparkled. “Now there’s a diplomat.” Then her expression grew a little wary. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Okay. Deep breath. “You’re shorthanded, I hear. Your family is worried about you.”
Her brows squashed together. “My family needs to mind its own business.”
Uh-oh. Put my foot in it. “I guess. Thing is, I have experience running a place like your store. I could help you out.”
“For a week?”
Make it good, Pea. Problem was, a person doesn’t get a lot of practice at salesmanship in a convenience store. Folks already know why they’re there, so there’s not much chance to sell them on what they should want to buy. “Maybe a little longer. I guess it depends on how much you’d pay me and how long it would take me to work off the repairs.” The very thought of an indefinite delay in my journey made me want to howl. To sit on the floor and suck my thumb.
“I couldn’t pay more than minimum wage,” she said. “Assuming I would want to employ someone at all, especially someone who I know won’t stay.”
She was right. But I was desperate. “I swear on Isis’s head that I’m honest and hardworking and you can trust me.”
She studied me for a minute that strung out forever. Finally, she spoke. “Isis?”
Okay. Detour. “Egyptian high priestess. Only person to know the secret name of the sun god Ra.”
“Mighty important name for such a little speck of a thing.” Then she switched topics. “What will you do if I say no?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. I didn’t expect car repairs when I left Austin. I have some money, but not a lot. First, I’m going to ask Mr.—er, the rat bastard if he can just do something temporary and, well, cheap.”
“Cheap is his middle name,” she muttered. “Knows his vehicles, though. No one better. If he could do it cheaper, he would have already suggested it.”
My slim hopes for a repair I could afford vanished in a puff of smoke. “So . . . will you hire me?”
“I have to think about it.” She looked me over, though that scan had nothing at all in common with a long, slow down-and-up. This was more like a microscope, and I was the germ squirming under glass.
“You’re worried that I’ll rob you blind.”
“Not really.” A pause during which my heart shivered in fear and hope. “You strike me as reliable.”
Oh, wow. I pictured myself in a uniform. Sort of the female version of the Texaco man. Someone people depend on and know will never steer them wrong.
Nice. Okay, boring, but people don’t give routine enough credit. They take it for granted. You should never, ever assume life won’t slap you upside the head with a surprise or two you’d just as soon have passed on.
I sweetened the pot. “I’m a quick learner, and you’re right, I am reliable. Maybe I won’t be staying, but you might be able to take some time off in a few days, once I get familiar with your system and you’re comfortable with me. Have yourself a little vacation.” I waited, barely breathing, to see which way the scales would tip.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, young lady. I haven’t even agreed to try you out.”
I opened my mouth to plead, but her expression said I’d best leave her alone to ponder.
The wait was a long one while she rearranged some items in the refrigerator. “I suppose we could try it. A trial run only, mind you.”
Yesss! It was a chance I desperately needed, but I managed to nod soberly and keep my happy feet still. “Thank you. I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”
“If you do, you won’t be the first.” But she smiled just a little. “So where will you stay?”
Oh, lordy. “Is there a motel?” The very notion of more expenses was more than I could stand.
“In Jewel?” She didn’t roll her eyes, but she might as well have.
“Ah, is there one down the road, then?”
“And how would you get to work?”
“I’d walk. I’m strong and not afraid of hard work.”
“Child,” she said, eyes soft. “There’s not a motel for a good sixty miles.”
“Oh. Well,” I said, thinking frantically. “Maybe we could . . . ” Sleep in the car, I started to say, but that was just dumb. There wasn’t room for two, much less three plus a cat.
She touched my arm. “There’s an RV parked behind my house. You could stay there, you and your sister.”
“My sister? Oh—you mean Alex. She’s not—I don’t really know her. I just, um, picked her up.” At her slight frown, I continued. “She was in some trouble, and I couldn’t just stand by.”
“So where will she go?”
“Beats me.” I wanted to confide in her that I wasn’t sure what to do with Alex, but I was on thin ice here, and explaining my theories about Sister might not further my cause. “I’m working on that.” Anyway, I wanted to get back to the subject of the RV. “You wouldn’t mind us staying there?” Then, though it just about choked me to ask, I went ahead. “Would you want me to pay rent?”
“Of course not.” She looked scandalized. “I would never do that. Back in my grandparents’ day on the frontier, hotels and boarding houses could be days’ ride apart. Folks left their houses unlocked, and if a traveler passed by and the owners were gone, the travelers would just go in, stay the night, fix a meal, then clean up after themselves before they continued their journey. Good country hospitality. You would be my guests and welcome to it.”
I could not imagine that world she’d described, but gratitude blew through me like a cool breeze. “I would pay for our meals.”
“Nonsense.”
“Then you would have to let me help you prepare them. Let us help,” I amended. Val and Alex could pitch in.
She nodded. “That would be fair.”
I was getting more encouraged. She didn’t know yet that I would do one whale of a job for her, but I did. Then I remembered that she’d only spoken of two of us staying there. “Is there room in the RV for three?” Though sharing more close quarters with Val was not high on my wish list.
“Your young man can bunk with Jeremy. I don’t hold with unmarried couples sleeping together.”
“We’re not a couple,” I said.
“Even more reason to be proper. He’s a friend of yours, then?”
“Uh, well, actually, I don’t really know him either.” That was an understatement.
“He’s not part of that little girl’s trouble, is he?”
“Oh, no.” But I could just imagine her reaction if I said He’s a con man, but he’s trying to go straight.
“You picked him up, as well?” She peered at me closely. “Did no one ever talk to you about the da
ngers of picking up strangers?”
It had been a long time since someone had taken the time to lecture me. Mrs. Cash—um, Lorena, was looking very grandmotherly to me, but it felt, well, kinda good, actually. “He’s . . . um, it’s hard to explain.”
Lorena glanced over toward the storeroom where Isis had given up trying to bat her way out of the door. “She one of your strays, too?” Her eyes were twinkling.
I ducked my head, smiling. “Well . . . ”
“Child, you have taken a good slice of the world on your shoulders, haven’t you?”
My chest was full of warm honey that spread through my veins and made me as happy as I’d been in quite some time, simply because this woman made me feel cared for. Abruptly, tears threatened. I shrugged but couldn’t speak.
“Come on,” she said gently. “Let me show you where you can stay, and you rest up a bit before you come to work.”
“No, ma’am, I couldn’t do that. Let me tell Val and Alex what’s going on, then maybe you could show Alex where to put our things. I’ll go talk to the, er, your husband. Once I’m done, I’ll come back here and get to work. I can sweep the floors or something until you get finished. I know how to work most every cash register ever made, so you don’t worry about that one bit, unless there’s some code you need to give me.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, we don’t run much to codes and security systems around here, dear.” She studied me, then relented. “All right. We’ll meet back here in a jiffy.”
Barely, I resisted the urge to hug her and left the kitchen to talk to Val and Alex.
The cash register was ancient. And unbelievably cool. Ornately carved metal with tall round keys you had to push down hard.
And a drawer that went—hand to Jesus—ka-CHING! when it opened.
I was in clerk heaven. Even if this place closed at six p.m. and there was no possibility of a night shift. I could have played with that register all day. Could, literally, because—get this—there was no monitoring tape or file to track money in and out. I could punch keys to my heart’s content.
Unfortunately, there were also no customers after the ones Lorena handled while I was still on pins and needles about asking her to let me work.
I wanted a customer so bad I could taste it.
Since there were none, I made Alex play pretend with me. She wasn’t real happy about that, but mostly because Ray wouldn’t let her hang out at the garage. Jeremy was supposed to be working, see, even though, best I could tell, he was spending half his time out on the driveway casting moon eyes at Alex.
Val, however, was allowed to hang out. Men only, seemed to be the deal. Even though Alex understood way more about cars than Val, testicles were the ticket for admission.
“I’m tired of this,” Alex whined.
I glanced at the clock. Ten fifteen. “Good idea. I’ll put the groceries away this time.” A lot of trouble to keep returning them to the shelves, yes, but we did, after all, need to make this realistic for proper training. “Then you can go rest. Nap a little.”
“Nap?” Alex shrieked. “I’m not a kid.”
“No, but you’re having one. Rest is good for you.” As least, it seemed like it would be.
The pout was already forming when Lorena came out of the kitchen and hijacked it. “We need to finish getting ready for the lunch rush. Alexandra, would you please fill the salt shakers?”
Lunch rush? I’d barely even seen any cars drive by.
“Come on over and slice me some green tomatoes,” she said to me. “I’ll work on the okra.”
My ears perked up. “You serve okra? Not boiled and slimy, right?”
“Of course not. Fried, just like the green tomatoes.”
Pitty-pat, pitty-pat. My heart was warming up for a little happy dance. If Lorena’s fried okra was as good as the pancakes she made us, then life was definitely looking up. In my book, fried okra was manna from heaven.
Didn’t even have to be a sign from Sister, though I defied anyone to tell me it wasn’t. Nope, good fried okra was reason enough to rejoice, all on its own. And if the green tomatoes were decent . . .
Well, no call to get too carried away, now. I could take or leave them, except if by chance she made them with a dab of brown sugar the way one of our neighbors used to.
But I was getting ahead of myself. “Just let me put these groceries back,” I said.
“Then wash your hands, both of you.”
I had to smile. She really did sound exactly like a grandmother should. How did I know that? Well, I had had a little taste of a grandmother myself. Only one, of course, since Casper—well, he had a mom, I guess, in whatever sense ectoplasm can have ancestors—but since I never met him, the concept of a mother for him was a little fuzzy.
Mama’s mother, though, I only saw her once that I recall, and what struck me most was this: She smelled of lilacs.
And she ordered you around in a way that felt real good.
Like you were worth the trouble.
Mrs. Cordia Sloan Duke
(Jan. 10, 1887-July 23, 1966)
Chronicler of a unique era in the history of the Southwest. Born in Belton, Mo. At 17, taught school in Indian Territory (Okla.)
In 1907 she married Robert L. Duke, a ranch hand who had risen to division manager of the XIT Ranch (then world’s largest). In addition to her own family, she “looked after” the 150 cowboys who worked the 3,000,000-acre spread. Kept a diary of everyday events in ranch life around here and successfully encouraged 81 others to do likewise. Thus was preserved an authentic account of a passing phase of American life—the cowboy and his work.
THE ZEN OF FRIED OKRA
By afternoon, I would have sworn I had met all nine hundred seventy-three inhabitants of Jewel. Helped serve lunch to every last one of them.
At last I was off my feet, nearly too tired to eat. Except that Lorena made the best fried okra that had ever crossed my lips, and her fried green tomatoes did indeed have brown sugar in them. Not too much so they were sicky-sweet, just exactly enough to offset the pucker.
I sighed again, in between shoveling mouthfuls like a longshoreman, and Lorena smiled real big. Not one hair on her head the slightest bit ruffled, I might add.
“You are amazing,” I told her.
Her cheeks pinkened, and I couldn’t help but stare. She was so in charge and together, that seeing her flustered was . . . fun.
“I mean it. This is the best food I have ever put in my mouth. No wonder the entire town showed up for lunch.” Then I frowned. “But you won’t be able to take much time off, after all.” I glanced at my adored cash register and sighed again.
“Why not?”
“I could never in a million years cook like this. I can manage the store just fine, but—” I waved my hand over my plate. “This is way past me.”
“I told you any fool can cook.”
“Not like this, I assure you. I’ll run the store for you, though.”
“I appreciate your help with lunch. Usually I’d still be in there working for another hour, at least.”
“I’m glad.” There was something about working together with other women. I felt closer to her already.
“But back to the cooking. A body should know how to prepare meals from scratch. It’s a crying shame how many folks rely on prepared foods or junk from a fast food restaurant. You were right that you’re a quick learner, and there’s no reason you can’t start out with one dish and expand to more.” One eyebrow arched. “Unless, of course, you’re a coward?”
Well, that shut me up. Dark Agnes stirred and stretched a bit, like she might wake up. “No, I’m not.” Not that cowardice didn’t have its appeal, but how would I ever find Sister if I was too chicken to tackle this?
Her lips twitched as if she had just watched the hook catch in my mouth and was already reeling in line. “I sort of cotton to the idea of a little vacation. Based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m optimistic that you can manage. We’ll give it a while
and see.”
“But—” Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut? Had to go and talk her into hiring me, didn’t I? The very thought of cooking for people used to Lorena’s miracles had me stone-cold terrified. “Um, it’s not that I don’t want to help you . . . ”
“Oh, pish. You’re plenty smart enough to handle this, Eudora.” She called me Eudora—got the story of my name out of me before I knew what was happening—and from her, it actually sounded right. Fitting, as if I could lay claim to that sort of dignity. That kind of strength.
So . . . courage. Maybe I’d exercise a little of it and ask her the question that had been bugging me. “So why exactly are you two not speaking? Six months is a long time, you know.”
“You’re telling me. Man was never much for words, but I like a good chat of an evening. House is real quiet. He doesn’t make much noise. Even quit belching. Never thought I’d miss that.”
I goggled. “You still live together?”
She looked at me like I was a half-wit. “Only got one house. Already told you there’s no motels around here.” Her mouth pursed. “Not that I’d set foot in one, mind you. I’d sooner start selling cigarettes and beer.”
Oh. I was definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
But back to the point. “Isn’t it . . . awkward?” I was trying to picture day after day sharing a home that way, living in a state of . . . what? Armed truce? Could they leave notes? Were there separate bedrooms?
She chuckled. “You get used to it. Oh, I’m not saying it wasn’t miserable at first, being so mad at each other. The air was like a tornado back then, whipping around so full of bad energy that a body could barely get a breath, but—”
“What?” I dared.
“It went from full-out, can’t-be-in-the-same-room kind of mad, all I-leave-when-you-show-up, door-slamming fury to, I guess you’d call it an armistice.”
Armistice. I’d never heard a human being use that word before. It’s a World War I throwback, the stuff of Victorian novels and a bygone sense of chivalry. Of elegant manners.
Not one thing in common with rat bastard. “You declared peace?”
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