Chasing Sunset

by Missouri Vaun

  “Are you sure I’m not imposing?” Lunch sounded good. She’d meant to grab something at the airport for breakfast, but after the ID debacle, it had slipped her mind. Her stomach had growled earlier reminding her of the oversight.

  “Please do. My mom loves to meet new people, especially when she gets a chance to feed them. Sunday lunch is a time-honored southern tradition meant to be shared.”

  “All right, if you think it’s really okay for me to crash.”

  “Absolutely.” Finn started walking and Iris followed.

  The main house was a large, two-story, home. The entry hall was set up for guest registration, and the sitting room had been converted into a dining area where they served a continental breakfast and coffee all day. Iris hadn’t really sampled the breakfast display because Finn had delivered coffee and biscuits right to her door.

  She followed Finn through the dining room. They passed through double swinging doors that ushered them into a large, eat-in kitchen. They were greeted by a flurry of activity—food being placed on the table in large plates, glasses being filled with ice, a pitcher of tea almost sliding off the counter. In other words, homespun chaos.

  “Taylor, pour the tea before your father spills it all over the floor.” Finn’s mother looked up from the serving dish, visibly surprised to see a stranger in her kitchen. But she rallied quickly. “Well, well, hello. Taylor Elizabeth Finn, where are your manners? Introduce your guest.”

  “Mom, you remember Iris from when she checked in? And this is my dad.”

  “Hi.” She tucked away the amusing knowledge that Finn’s middle name was Elizabeth for a later date. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. F—”

  “Call me Betty and Taylor’s father is Michael. We’re on a strictly first name basis around here…Betty and Mike.” Betty fussed with arranging the food in the center of the table, adding serving spoons as she talked.

  “Thank you for letting me join your family lunch.”

  “Now, now, we all have to eat and it’s so much more pleasant to eat together.” Betty surveyed the table. She seemed satisfied. “All right now, everyone take a seat before everything gets cold.”

  Trey was quick to find a chair. He started to reach for a piece of fried chicken but slowly withdrew his hand due to Betty’s scowling glare.

  “Sorry, Mama.”

  “Honey, will you say grace?” Betty looked at Mike, seated at the head of the table. Betty was on one end and Mike was on the other.

  Finn held out her hand to Iris. A tiny rush of adrenaline traveled through her bloodstream as she accepted. Finn’s hand was warm and strong as her fingers lightly curled around Iris’s. Betty held Iris’s other hand. It had been a long time since she’d been at a table where anyone said grace before a meal. This act of thanks was oddly touching in a way she hadn’t expected.

  “Dear Lord, we thank you for this fine meal and we’re grateful to those who prepared it. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to your service. In Christ’s name we pray, amen.” Everyone softly echoed amen.

  “I like how he always says them, when the Lord knows I’m the only one in the kitchen.” Betty passed the chicken to Finn, quirking an eyebrow playfully at her husband.

  Finn held the plate of chicken out for Iris to take a piece. Then served herself. Next came mashed potatoes, green beans, carrots, and more of those amazing biscuits. Within mere moments, Iris had a plate piled high with food.

  “Now, Iris, you’re not from Georgia are you?” Betty sipped her iced tea.

  Iris swallowed her mouthful of food and then dabbed at her lips with the napkin.

  “No, I’m from California. I live in Santa Monica.”

  “She’s an actor, Mama. She came to Atlanta to read for a part.” Finn smothered the bottom half of her biscuit with butter.

  “An actor.” Betty entwined her fingers in a little triangle above her plate. There was a twinkle in her eyes. “Do you know George Clooney?”

  “Mama, not everyone in the LA area knows George Clooney.” Finn shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, no, I don’t know him.” Iris was amused by the idea of it.

  “He’s a mighty good-looking man, yessir, mighty fine looking, Betty crooned.

  “I’m sittin’ right here.” Mike frowned and then returned his attention to his meal, shaking his head.

  Iris tried not to laugh.

  “That’s why you look so familiar.” Trey set down his fork. “I’ve seen you in something. What was it?”

  “Law and Order? I played the wife of a murder victim in one of the show’s last season.” Iris threw out a suggestion.

  “No, it wasn’t that.” Trey’s brow furrowed as if he were focusing on something intently.

  “A Doritos commercial?” It was unfortunate that her stint as a barmaid during the Super Bowl was what most people seemed to remember.

  “That’s it! Oh, man, you were so h—”

  “Don’t say it.” Finn threatened her brother with her dinner knife.

  “I was gonna say talented.” Trey cleared his throat.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought you were going to say.” Finn winked at Iris and resumed her meal.

  “Has George Clooney ever done a Super Bowl commercial?” Betty was hopeful.

  Everyone laughed.

  Finn’s family was a pleasure to be around and the meal was delicious. Mostly the conversation was light and friendly. Once it had been settled that Iris and George Clooney were not acquainted then Betty moved on to other topics. Some of which included chores she wanted Mike to do, or Trey, while he was there for the afternoon.

  “I told Dad that we need bear lockers too.” Finn served herself a second helping of mashed potatoes. “Did he tell you there was a bear out behind cabin two getting into the trash?”

  “No, he neglected that detail.” Betty worked at the chicken on her plate with a fork.

  Iris was never sure if it was acceptable to eat fried chicken with your fingers or if she should use a fork. Perhaps either method was okay.

  “I’ll figure something out.” Mike reached for another piece of chicken. “They’re just hungry is all. They don’t mean no harm.”

  Finn watched Iris daintily hold a piece of chicken between her slender fingers. She seemed to be taking the Finn clan in stride. Luckily, nothing too embarrassing had happened so far, except her mother’s reveal of her middle name. That was unfortunate. Finn liked to keep those sorts of details to herself.

  “Is cabin two still open?” Finn asked her mother.

  “Yes. I swapped out the sheets and towels this morning.” Her mother settled her fork across her plate.

  “Good. I’ll get Iris the key after lunch.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She checked the screen. She had a text message from Ward. “Say, after we get you checked in, do you want to ride over to Ward’s place with me?”

  “Sure.” Iris sipped her tea. Her plate was nearly empty.

  “I forgot that I told him I’d stop by when we saw him at the store yesterday.”

  She didn’t miss the fact that her mother perked up at the news she’d been with Iris the previous day. But she wasn’t in the mood to get into all of it now. She was sure her mother would pelt her with questions later.

  “Mama, do you want me to stay and help with the dishes first?”

  “No, Trey can help. You girls go ahead. You can get Iris’s things settled too.” Her mother seemed as pleased as a meddling matchmaker.

  “Hey, why do I have to do dishes?” Trey on the other hand, was less than pleased, although he was clearly joking.

  “He who eats free helps with dishes.” Her father settled back in his chair and held out his cup. “Is there coffee made?”

  “Good Lord, you’d think a grown man could get his own coffee. I swear I have to do every little thing around this kitchen.” Her mother touched her dad’s shoulder affectionately as she served him coffee. “Does anyone else want coffee?”

  “No, thanks,
Mama.” Finn took one last swig of her iced tea. “Lunch was great, thank you.”

  “Thank you, Betty. That was a terrific meal.” Iris stood and slid her chair back in place. “Are you sure I can’t help with the dishes?”

  “No, no, you’re our guest. You just get yourself settled in. Taylor can help you with your bags.” She started to shift the leftovers to containers on the counter. She obviously only called Finn by her first name. “You girls have fun.”

  She followed Finn to the front office to find the keys for cabin two. They stopped off at Finn’s cabin to retrieve Iris’s suitcase.

  “Thank you for inviting me to join your family for lunch. That was really fun.” Iris stood back while Finn unlocked the door. “Your mother is a great cook.”

  “I’m just thankful they didn’t say anything too over-the-top.” She stepped aside to allow Iris to enter. “I mean, the George Clooney question was bad enough. My mom is fifty and still as boy crazy as ever.”

  “She’s sweet. And so is your dad.” Iris took the bag from Finn and rolled it into the bedroom. “Even your brother is charming.”

  Hmm, Iris obviously liked her brother. Should she be jealous?

  “He’s almost as charming as you are.” It was as if Iris had read her mind.

  “Nice save.” Finn leaned against the frame of the open door. “So, are you still up for going for a drive over to Ward’s?”

  “Sure, just let me take a few minutes here and then I’ll meet you at your car?”

  “Sounds good.” She turned to leave but stopped before she closed the door. “Hey, Iris?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m really glad you’re here.” She hoped Iris knew how sincerely she meant that.

  “Me too.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ward’s garage and repair shop was a long building, like a small warehouse, constructed mostly of corrugated metal. Large sections looked as if they were on the brink of rusting through. There were two bay openings, and cars in various stages of reconstruction or deterioration were scattered all over out front. Frankly, the whole place was so perfectly disheveled that it struck Iris as if she were stepping into a location for a film.

  Ward stepped from the shadows, wiping his hands on a red cloth. He shoved the rag in his pocket as they approached.

  “Hey, thanks for coming by. I needed a break.” Ward smiled.

  “You remember Iris?” Finn lightly touched Iris’s shoulder.

  “Hello.” Iris nodded. She was a little out of her natural habitat. A bit out of her element.

  “Of course. Nice to see you again.” He motioned toward the truck parked inside the bay. It was up on some sort of lift. “I was attempting to fix a spongy brake pedal in that ninety-three GMC Sierra. I bought a new master cylinder and it was crap.”

  “Fascinating.” Finn studied him with her hands at her hips.

  “And before that it was a power steering pump. The replacement pump had a faulty bypass valve. It was as if there was no assist at all. The pump made a bunch of noise and fluid churned about in the reservoir, and…”

  “He babbles when he’s around beautiful women,” Finn half-whispered to Iris.

  She appreciated that Finn was able to jokingly harass her friend while simultaneously paying her a compliment. This wasn’t the first time she’d thought Finn was gifted at flirtation.

  Ward continued to relay all the details about his current repair project, as if anyone was actually listening. Finally, Finn cut in.

  “You see, this is why I don’t drive a GMC.” Finn grinned at Iris. “One of many reasons.”

  “Not all of us get to drive our dream car.” Ward scowled.

  “I hear ya, brother.” Finn patted him on the shoulder. “So, what do you need?”

  “There’s a race this weekend in Dawsonville, and I wanted you to take the car for a few turns.” Ward started walking toward an older model, two-door seventies era Ford Mustang.

  “Who’s driving?” Finn asked.

  “Ned Ames.”

  “He’s such a dick.” Finn walked around the car, inspecting it. “Why do you keep fixing cars for him?”

  “That ancient evil known as money.” Ward shrugged. “He’s got more money than sense.”

  “He’s got more money than skill.” Finn crossed her arms.

  “That too. Let me just hit pause on this and I’ll grab the keys.” Ward turned to walk back into the darkened garage and they followed.

  There was an elegant vintage Lincoln parked in one of the bays. Mostly it was black, except for a few large organic shapes of gray primer. The hood was up. It looked like another project in process.

  “That’s a 1964 Lincoln Continental. It has suicide doors.” Finn opened the back driver’s side door so that Iris could see the red leather interior.

  “The door is backward.” Iris didn’t know anything about cars, but even she could see that the hinges were at the rear rather than the front of the door.

  “That’s why they call them suicide doors. Because they’re generally considered to be unsafe.” Finn grinned. “Unsafe but unquestionably cool.”

  “Whose car is this?” Iris would have described the car as sexy, over cool.

  “Mine.” Finn closed the door. “Apparently, cars from the late fifties, early sixties are my ideal vintage.”

  “So, you have the smallest car and the longest car?” The Lincoln was huge compared to the roadster.

  “Well, I always figured we’d restore the Lincoln, and if things didn’t work out, I could always live in it.”

  Iris laughed.

  Ward rejoined them. He and Finn started back toward the front of the garage, where the stock car was parked. Iris followed several feet behind, taking in the shelf along the back wall filled with motorsport trophies.

  It took a moment for Iris’s eyes to adjust to the brightness after the dark interior. She shielded her eyes.

  “So, what do you say? Will you take it around a few times and let me know how it feels?” Ward held a helmet out in Finn’s direction.

  “Sure.” Finn put the helmet on. She looked at Iris as she adjusted the chin strap. “This won’t take long.”

  The door was welded shut, so Finn slid into the seat through the window using something like a gymnastics move. The engine roared to life. Iris watched as Finn steered the car toward the pasture near the shop. Although, as she walked closer she could see that a dirt road circled the tall grass and shrubs of the open field. Finn turned onto the road and hit the gas. Dirt and dust billowed behind the wide tires as the car spun out and then lurched forward, fishtailing just a little before stabilizing. Finn was going so fast so quickly that it made Iris’s pulse quicken. The whole setup seemed sort of wild and rough. There were no guardrails unless bales of hay along the side of the dirt track counted.

  “Do you like cars?”

  Iris had almost forgotten Ward was standing next to her until he spoke. She’d been completely distracted watching Finn.

  “Oh, um, well, I own a car. But it’s more about simple transportation than anything else.” Iris didn’t really care what model she drove as long as it was safe and dependable.

  “Lucky you.”

  “Why do you say that?” Was he being sarcastic?

  “It’s an expensive hobby once the bug bites.”

  “What bug?”

  “Car fever.” He smiled.

  “Does Finn ever drive in races?” She was reminded of her time with Kent. How she’d worried about his reckless weekend racing.

  “She used to race a lot. We’ve got a shelf full of trophies in the garage to show for it. But she hasn’t been racing lately.” Ward sounded like maybe he didn’t agree with Finn’s choice to stop.

  “Did the other racers give her a hard time?” Iris wondered if Finn had stopped racing for some particular reason. Racing had to be a hard career choice for a woman.

  “Sometimes. Guys can be assholes.” Ward smiled. “Especially when a girl kicks their as
s on the track.”

  The Ford roared past, sliding a little through the curve, and then gained speed in the straightaway. Iris could feel the sound reverberate in her chest. She took a few steps back.

  * * *

  Finn gripped the wheel aiming for balance through the curve. Then she upshifted and hit the accelerator as she came out of the curve. Controlling the V8 beast gave her an adrenaline boost, a thrilling injection that pulsed through her entire system. The car was tight. Ward had made some good modifications that Ned should be pleased with. She was almost jealous that it wasn’t hers to drive, but she needed to stay focused on a different path. Especially now.

  She’d done the dirt track circuit for a few summers. There was no doubt it was fun, and sometimes you won and actually made some cash. But the culture that surrounded the races just wasn’t where she wanted to be any more. Plus, there were too many redneck amateurs signing up to race which made the whole endeavor unsafe for everyone.

  She downshifted heading into the next curve. In rapid succession, she worked the clutch and the accelerator. The goal was to avoid using the brake to slow the car and manage the turns while maintaining as much speed as possible. The right rear wheel hit the grass on the outside of the curve. She’d overshot and had to course correct. The steering wheel shimmied as she fought the car back onto the rutted dirt road.

  She did two more laps and then turned the Ford toward the driveway in front of the garage. Iris was holding herself with her arms crossed as if she were chilled, but the air was plenty warm. Finn couldn’t be sure, but Iris almost looked annoyed. Maybe she’d taken too long. Maybe she shouldn’t have suggested that Iris come with her. Usually women liked the whole racing vibe. It was a turn-on for some. And if Finn were being honest, she’d admit that she’d wanted to show off just a little for Iris. She still couldn’t quite figure out if Iris was into her or not. If her expression in this moment was an indication then the answer was no.

  Finn tossed the helmet on the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. She was sure she had dust in her hair. She could see it on her jeans. She dusted them off.