He plugged his phone into the charger and put it on speaker. “Listen, Olivia. I’m right here, and I’ll stay on the phone till your mom gets home. You put your phone on speaker too, and we’ll just pretend we’re together, okay? Are we watching television?”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of scary. Someone just got killed.”
“Well then, let’s turn that off right now. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Pocahontas. I have the DVD.”
“Put it on, and we can watch it together. You can tell me all about it.”
“Okay.” Her voice had gone back to chirping, and he listened to the bustle as she moved around finding her movie. Finally, as music that could only come from Disney filled the room, she was back. “Okay, there’s all these people getting ready to get on a boat, see . . .”
Chris wasn’t sure how long he sat listening to Olivia narrate her movie. The pauses between her comments became longer and her voice grew sleepy. She finally drifted off to sleep, and Chris smiled as her snores came to him over the phone. For a little girl, she made an awful lot of noise.
He turned his own television on with the sound almost off so he could hear everything that went on in Kaitlyn’s apartment and tried to stay awake. Despite his efforts, he must have dozed, because he was suddenly aware of Kaitlyn’s voice in the room.
“Kaitlyn!”
The voice on the other end stopped for a moment. “Chris? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Pick up the phone and turn off the speaker.” He jabbed at the speaker button on his own phone and waited until she came back on the line. It was just past midnight.
“Chris. What’s going on?”
“Why don’t you tell me? What do you mean leaving Olivia alone? She’s seven years old, for crying out loud.”
Kaitlyn laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about Livvy. Sometimes I think she’s the grown-up.”
“Well, she’s not a grown-up. She’s seven. What if something happened?”
“I’ve gone over all that with her. She knows how to get help if she needs it.”
“Even if nothing happens, Kaitlyn, leaving her alone is illegal. The authorities would have every reason to find you an unfit mother and take Olivia away from you. Do you realize that?” Chris found himself wishing he could reach through the phone and shake some sense into his sister.
“Look, I don’t need a lecture from you.” Kaitlyn’s voice took on the same petulance she used when he’d tried to rein her in when they were kids. “You have no idea what it’s like being tied down with a kid all the time. I’m only twenty-four. I have a right to live my life too, you know.”
Chris sighed and rubbed a pain that had begun between his eyes. He didn’t know where Olivia was, but she didn’t need to be hearing the things Kaitlyn was saying, although he didn’t imagine it would be the first time she heard them.
“Okay, it’s late. You need to see to Olivia and I need to get to bed. But don’t leave her alone anymore. Got that? She’s just a little kid, and she was scared. That’s why she called me.”
The voice on the other end of the line softened. “Well, there’s no one better to go to when you’re scared. I’ve known that all my life. But I’ll find a sitter next time, promise.”
“You’d better.” Chris felt his rage, if not his frustration, slip away in spite of himself. He never could stay mad at Kaitlyn long. That was probably why she always did exactly as she pleased. Well, not where Olivia was concerned. Not if he could help it. “Olivia is a precious gift. I hope you realize that. And if you ever need any help with her, all you have to do is let me know. Understand?”
“I understand. And don’t think I won’t take you up on that.”
“You do that.”
“Love you, Chris.”
“Love you too. And give Olivia a kiss for me.” Chris hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. If he could gather just an ounce or two of strength, maybe he could get to bed.
3
Did you find enough to at least get started?” Nancy Jo Cooley looked up from the bread she was kneading when Sarah came through the back door.
“I found a ton. There were some great midcentury modern pieces in that shed. I had no idea all that was out there.”
“Midcentury modern?” Nancy Jo swiped the back of her hand across her nose, leaving a flour smear. “You’re not talking about that awful blond bedroom set, are you?”
“And the coffee tables, and the turquoise sofa is still in good shape. And there’s even a Formica and chrome kitchen table.” Sarah practically danced with excitement. “I marked everything I wanted with that blue painter’s tape that was out there. The guys said they could load it on the truck and bring it to town tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you want that awful old stuff from the fifties. Gran was still hanging on to her big-city ways when she went clear to Albuquerque to buy it and then had it shipped down. It made the ranch quite the showplace, but by the time I married your dad, it was ready for the shed. Did you see the oak dining table with the claw feet? The bentwood rocker? I think those pieces are so much nicer than that so-called modern stuff.”
“Oh, shoot. They’ve already taken up the gold shag carpet. Otherwise the oak would be perfect, especially with a macramé plant hanger or two.” Sarah poured herself a cup of coffee and set another where her mother could reach it. “Nope. I’m thrilled with the midcentury modern. Wait till you see how it looks in my house.”
“Did you go through the linen closet too? There are plenty of sheets and towels you can have.” Nancy Jo gave the bread dough a final thump and set it to rise under a damp cloth before rinsing her hands. “Thanks for the coffee, honey. I’m ready for a break.” She smiled at the familiar ringtone coming from Sarah’s purse. “Is that Brandon? Tell him hi from me.”
Sarah didn’t answer either the phone or her mother, and if Nancy Jo noticed, she didn’t say anything. “I think I’m going to get all new linens. I’m going up to San Ramon this afternoon for that, as well as shelf paper and whatever else I decide I need. Want to come?”
“I wish I could. It sounds like fun. But I’ve got way too much to do around here.”
Sarah got up and squeezed her mother’s shoulders before she put her cup in the sink. “Well, I’m sure it won’t be the last time I head up there for something for the house. I’ll give you some warning next time, and maybe we can make a day of it.”
“Do. I’d like that.” Nancy Jo took a sip of coffee. “Oh, since you seem to like that old stuff, did you find the dishes?”
“Dishes?”
“Gran has a box of Fiesta ware out there somewhere. It’s not a complete set anymore, but there should be enough to set a table.”
“Real Fiesta? Just sitting in a box in the shed? You’ve got to be kidding. If it’s out there, I’m taking it with me now.” Sarah was already off the porch and on her way to the shed by the time the door slammed behind her.
The kitchen, Chris guessed, had passed muster. Not only did Carlos have nothing to say about it, but he actually seemed cheerful as he worked. Chris even caught him whistling softly. Nevertheless, discretion being the better part of valor, Chris decided to stay out of his way. That was the course of action Fayette had recommended anyway, and though he had no intention of abdicating the kitchen of his own restaurant, taking a day off from battle now and then would not hurt. It could even help in the long run.
When the front door opened and in breezed Rita Sandoval, the mayor of Last Chance, Chris held his breath. Earlier, before anyone else arrived at the diner, he had taken down the bell over the door. So far no one had said anything, but he had learned already that nothing ever got past Rita. She stopped in the doorway, looked up, swung the door back and forth a few times, shrugged, and bustled on in. Chris slowly exhaled, feeling absurdly pleased that at least one change he wanted to make at the Dip ’n’ Dine had slipped by.
“Sarah Cooley’s not here, is she?” Rita looked around and gave a sharp nod. “G
ood. I stopped by Elizabeth’s and she said Sarah was going to come in for lunch on her way to San Ramon this afternoon.”
“No, we haven’t seen Sarah today, have we, Chris?” Juanita’s voice oozed innocence, but Chris felt his ears growing hot anyway.
“Good. Then I’ll make this fast. Sarah’s moving into the Carter place this week, and we’re going to give her a pounding on Saturday night.”
Chris had no idea what a pounding was, but he was pretty sure it couldn’t be as violent as it sounded. Last Chance just didn’t seem like that kind of place.
Rita plopped her ever-present clipboard on the counter. “I’d rather everyone sign up for what they’re going to bring so we don’t get twenty-five pounds of tea and not an ounce of sugar to go with it, but people in this town can be so hardheaded when it comes to taking the tiniest suggestion, so I’ll just let it be what it is and hope for the best.”
“Rita, I do believe you’re getting soft. You start letting people make up their own minds about things, and the whole town’s likely to go to pot.” Juanita picked up the clipboard and looked at it. “You can put me down for two jars of my homemade green chile salsa, and of course I’ll bring my specialty for the potluck table.”
“Terrific. We can never have too much lime Jell-O with cottage cheese and marshmallows.” Clearly Rita recognized a dig when she heard one and had no trouble giving as good as she got.
“What about you, Chris?” Juanita either didn’t get the jab or chose to ignore it. “You’re invited too, you know. The whole town comes to these things. You bring a pound of something for the pantry and a dish for the potluck. It’s like a surprise housewarming.”
“I don’t know. I’ve only met Sarah once. I’m sure she’ll want to see all her old friends.” When Chris talked to Sarah again—and he fully intended to—he didn’t want it to be in front of a room full of attentive strangers.
“Oh, but you have to come, Chris. She’ll think you’re hiding from her.” Juanita appeared to be working hard to hide a smile. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Chris took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but Rita held up a hand and interrupted. “Shhh, here she comes. Remember, 6:00 Saturday evening. Everyone’s meeting at Elizabeth’s, and we’ll walk over together.”
She stopped on her way out to give Sarah a hug and then caught Chris’s eye over Sarah’s head and mouthed something that looked strangely like “Be there or be square.”
“What’s Rita up to this time?” Sarah smiled as she came in. “I noticed the clipboard.”
“Oh, you know Rita.” Juanita waved a dismissive hand. “She’s always got some project or another going.”
When Sarah glanced at him and looked away, Chris realized he was staring. Was his mouth even hanging open? He wasn’t sure if he was completely captivated or just falling asleep on his feet, but he had to admit she did look good.
“I hear you’re heading up to San Ramon this afternoon to do some shopping. How’s the house shaping up?” Juanita handed Sarah a menu that she didn’t bother to open.
“How did you know I was going to San Ramon?” Even with her brow furrowed, Sarah looked cute.
If Juanita knew she had blundered, she gave no clue. “How does anyone know anything around here? I think it just blows on the wind. Now, have you had time to look at that menu?”
Sarah held her puzzled frown for a second longer before she accepted the truth of Juanita’s observation and let her face relax into a smile. “Don’t need the menu. I’m still working my way through the specials.”
“Huevos rancheros it is, then. And since Carlos gets his chile from Russ and me, you know it will be the best you’ve ever put in your mouth.”
“My mouth is watering already.” Sarah handed the menu back to Juanita. If that big goof of an owner didn’t stop staring at her, she was going to have to do something. She wasn’t sure what yet, but it wouldn’t be taking her business elsewhere, since (a) there was no “elsewhere” and (b) she was here first, darn it. If anyone needed to go elsewhere, it was Chris. Her earliest memories included ice cream at the Dip ’n’ Dine on Saturday afternoons. Fayette had been a waitress then before she bought the place, and Sarah was just beginning to realize how much she was going to miss her.
She glanced at Chris, who had stopped by another table to chat for a moment with the customers. Fayette used to do that all the time, of course, but it was different when she did it. Fayette was friendly and down-home. You felt she was plain glad to see you. This guy acted friendly, but Sarah didn’t believe it. She had seen guys just like him all her life—big guys with way more looks than brains who thought of no one but themselves and who expected the world to part like the Red Sea just because they swaggered through it. She caught him looking at her again and stared back, opening her eyes as wide as she could get them. He actually blushed and looked away. Take that, you big doofus, and start packing.
“Here you go. Eggs over easy. I forgot to ask, but they’re best that way.” Juanita appeared with a steaming plate of huevos rancheros and a basket of thick flour tortillas.
“Thanks, Juanita.” Sarah spread her napkin over her lap. “I meant to tell you how nice it is to see a friendly face in here. When did you start working here?”
“Well, I volunteered, of course, with the rest of the church when Fayette was spending all that time with Matthew at the hospital. Then after she sold the place, I found I missed it. Well, not so much the work as the people. With the kids all grown and gone and the business end of the farm all computerized, I wasn’t as busy as I once was. I just work a few days a week anyway.”
Sarah kept her voice at a low murmur. “How is it working for . . . ?” She tilted her head toward the kitchen.
“Chris?” Sarah saw him look over at the mention of his name and wished Juanita would lower her voice. “Oh, he’s doing all right. He’s a little green right now, but he’s coming along.” A ding came from the kitchen and Juanita rolled her eyes. “Well, either I have an order ready, or Chris wants to bless me out again for talking about him to the customers. His one weakness, other than wanting to change every last thing, is that he’s a bit touchy. You enjoy those eggs, now.”
Juanita went to the kitchen where there was indeed an order waiting for her, and Sarah turned her attention to her huevos rancheros. Juanita was right. They were outstanding, and Sarah sopped up every bit of egg and green chile with the thick tortillas.
She didn’t have time to think of ways to get Chris out of the Dip ’n’ Dine and out of Last Chance, because every time someone came in, they stopped by the table to welcome her back. It was surprising how many knew she had taken the Carter place and how many even remarked on her pending trip that afternoon to San Ramon. Juanita was right. There were no secrets in Last Chance.
4
Sarah did a double take when she walked through her living room Saturday evening and glanced out her front window. Something was up. Cars were parked up and down her quiet street, though none directly in front of her house. She saw the Watsons hurry past without looking up, Les holding a plastic grocery bag and Evelyn carrying what looked like a Bundt cake. Someone was obviously having a party tonight, and since she hadn’t heard a word about it, she was pretty sure who it was.
Looking around her small living room, Sarah smiled in satisfaction. She had worked hard over the last few days and was pleased with her work. She had been able to get most of the spots out of the turquoise sofa and covered those that remained with cushions of coral and lime green. Some of the Fiesta ware was on display in the kitchen, and the rest sat on freshly papered shelves. She quickly shoved the few boxes she still had to unpack into the spare room and shut the door. There. It looked like she’d been settled forever.
It wasn’t till she was adjusting her new towels in the bathroom that she glanced in the mirror. The house might have been ready, but with her stained T-shirt and cutoff jeans, her hair drawn back in a careless ponytail, and not a smidgen of makeup, Sar
ah clearly was not. She raced to her bedroom to change and had just fluffed her curls around her face and begun applying a light coat of lip gloss when the low rumble of a crowd trying to be silent and the doorbell told her that her party was about to begin.
The surprised look Sarah had practiced in the mirror as she got dressed was totally unnecessary, because as her guests poured through the front door, their attention and exclamations turned to the little house she had worked so hard to fix up. Everyone’s attention but that new owner of the Dip ’n’ Dine, Chris. At six-something, he stood out in the crowd like a sore thumb, and he was looking at her, not her house. Who invited him, anyway?
“Oh my goodness, I haven’t seen this furniture in years. What in the world made you bring all this down?” Elizabeth had a slight smile on her face as she looked around.
“It’s the latest thing, Gran.” Sarah gave her grandmother a hug. “All the stores are filled with midcentury replicas, and look! I’ve got a houseful of the real thing. Isn’t that great?”
“Well, I was sure proud of it.” Elizabeth ran her fingers across the kidney-shaped coffee table. “I can’t say your granddad was all that tickled with it, though. He let me get it, but he always said it made him feel like he was company in his own house. It does look cute in here, though.”
“Okay, everybody.” Rita emerged from a reconnaissance visit to the kitchen. “We’re going to need every inch of the counters as well as the table to set up the potluck dishes, so just put your poundings over there by the fireplace.”
“Um, this should get in the freezer right away.” Chris held up the small cooler he was holding.
Rita sighed. Clearly, she did not like to be interrupted when she was in full organizational mode. “What do you have there, Chris? Ice cream?”
One More Last Chance Page 3