It had been a church function. Dinner, dancing, and a fun, little not-so-newlywed game. Whoever nominated him and Alice had gotten their vote’s worth, for sure. Trent chuckled at the memory.
“So, Trent” Pastor Fred gave a mischievous grin. “Tell me, which animal did Alice say you most resemble, a mole, peacock, or a chicken?”
Laughter filled the sanctuary.
Trent played into the audience. “It would be easier to answer if I knew their driving personality traits.”
Ed stood, stuck his fingers in his armpits, and waved his elbows. “Baaak, baaak, baa-aak.”
Trent lurched to his feet and held his arms out in a “You-want-a-piece-of-this?” gesture.
More laughter. He glanced at Alice. She brought her hand to her mouth and giggled, her blue eyes sparkling.
Pastor Fred hummed the tune to Jeopardy! and motioned for everyone to settle down.
Trent cleared his throat and returned to his seat. “All right, if it were me, I’d say I resemble a bright, socially adept, creative mole.”
“Leave it to you to turn a rodent into a CEO!” Someone from the back of the room hollered. It sounded like Theo.
Trent leaned back and draped his leg over his knee. “But Alice would probably say I remind her of a peacock.”
Boos, heckles, and a few “amen to that’s” shot out.
“And the answer is . . .” Pastor Fred turned his attention to Alice.
She giggled again and flipped her piece of cardboard around to reveal her answer.
Trent grinned and punched the air. “What’d I tell you? I know my girl.” He leaned over and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.
When he pulled away, he saw she was blushing, making her look all the more beautiful.
The shrill ring of the phone brought Trent back to the present. He returned the photo to the drawer and glanced at the number displayed on the caller ID screen. Another creditor. He hit ignore.
CHAPTER 30
Sitting at Beth’s kitchen table, Alice wrapped both hands around her coffee mug and watched the steam rise. “I don’t know what to do.” She looked at Beth, who sat across from her.
“You said Danny asked you to leave them alone?”
She nodded.
“And they’re staying at the Luttrells’?”
“I assume they still are.”
“Then they’re safe. You called the school, right?”
She nodded again. “At least they’re still taking classes. For now. But what if they get into trouble? They won’t take my calls. Maybe I should go to the school. Talk to the principal . . . or the police?”
“I don’t know.” Beth stirred her coffee. “I’m not sure what the police would do, except maybe force the boys to go back home.”
Alice shook her head. “I don’t want them around Trent.” Having the kids watch their father throw his life away certainly won’t help them get a grip on theirs.
“If you push them, they’ll probably just leave again, and who knows where they’d end up. You said Tim’s pretty reactive.”
“But not Danny. At least, not until now. He’s been mad at me before, turned silent, but he’s never shut me out like this.”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” She placed her hand on Alice’s arm. “Honestly, right now I think the best thing you can do is pray and keep reaching out. Send cards, leave phone messages. Let them know you love them, no matter what. That you’re here for them. Maybe once they calm down and the storm settles, they’ll be more apt to listen.”
Alice slumped her shoulders. “Maybe.”
Trent closed his office door, settled behind his desk and pulled out his phone. He called the bank.
“First American Savings. This is Saundra. How may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Trent Goddard. I received a message yesterday from a Leah Northrup.”
“Will you hold, please?”
Elevator music played across the line. It stopped abruptly when a woman’s voice came on.
“Hello, Mr. Goddard?”
“Yes?” His stomach churned as he waited for the inevitable.
“This is Mrs. Northrup. I’m calling to discuss your delinquent mortgage.”
He massaged his forehead. “I know I’m behind.”
“I’m trying to work with you here, but as I told you during our last conversation, property values have dropped and as this is a refinance, you now owe more than your house is worth.”
“I plan to mail a check later this month, as soon as I get paid. If I could just . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut and calculated all his potential commissions. They were thin. Real thin. But if he could get a few more accounts turned in before the next pay period . . .
Mr. Lowe entered his office, and Trent nodded a greeting. Mrs. Northrup continued but Trent no longer listened. He focused on his boss who now stood in front of the desk. A deep scowl clouded his face, and a thick stack of brochures crumpled in his hand.
Trent ended his call and swallowed past a dry mouth. “Good morning, sir. I was going to call you today to go over my ideas for the Hendell account.”
“What is this?” Mr. Lowe dropped brochures Trent had recently completed on the desk.
“Is there a problem? Because if you’d like me to—”
“Seamless commutations? Commutations?”
Trent stared at the bright white lettering beneath the Astra- Owens logo. There went 30,000 copies, along with four banners and three 7-by-5-foot signs, down the drain.
“Seriously, Trent. Didn’t you use spell check?”
“I . . . I . . .”
Mr. Lowe leaned forward and pressed his palms into the desk. “What is with you?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lowe. That was unacceptable. I will—”
“What? You’ll call Astra-Owens and explain why we don’t have their marketing materials ready for their grand opening? You’ll cover the loss, not just on wasted print and supply fees, but on all the business this will cost Innovative Media Solutions? Not to mention all the bad publicity this will generate.”
What could he say? “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what happened. This isn’t like me, sir. You know that.”
“You mean it wasn’t like you. You’re off your game, Trent. Have been for a while now. You need to take some time off—get yourself together.”
This was crazy. He couldn’t be laid off now. “But sir—”
“Either you take time to get your head straight, or you find another job.”
Bile flooded the back of his throat. He swallowed it down and looked at a stack of open contracts to his right, then back at Mr. Lowe.
“Yes, sir.”
His mind raced as he watched his boss leave. He struggled to breathe against constricting lungs and thought, for the third time that week, how easy it would be to end it all—to slip into the dark abyss of nothingness—no more pain, no more bills, no more muscle-men breathing down his back . . .
But then there’d also be no more Alice. Beautiful Alice.
CHAPTER 31
Alice paused with her hand on the diner door and watched women in polyester scurry from table to table, steaming pots in their hands. Men in ball caps and faded T-shirts filled nearly every booth.
Inhaling, she opened the door and stepped inside.
A tall, trim girl half Alice’s age took orders from a group of men. Alice’s cheeks heated as she watched a broad-shouldered man ogle the girl, his mouth curling into a hungry smile. She tugged on her waistband, suddenly feeling exposed.
“Hey there, darlin’.”
Alice turned to see a bleached blonde with gray roots bounding toward her. Thick folds of flesh strained against the seams of her uniform. “So you’re the new busser, huh?” The woman smiled and turned to a man standing behind a long metal counter. She handed him a slip of paper. “Two up. Not too runny.”
Her lips twitched as she turned back to Alice, her narrowed eyes sweeping over her like a calculating drill sergeant. “I’m Melba
. Been waiting tables here for 20 years, ain’t that right, Frank?”
The cook flashed a toothless grin, save a few gold-capped incisors, and grabbed the order. He stuck it to a clip dangling in front of him. “You know that’s right. Old Melba been here ’bout long as me.”
The woman planted her hands on her hips. “Two things you gotta remember. Keep the tables clean and the coffee mugs filled. And your rear end far from Mr. Leupold’s grabbing paws.” She shook her head. “Ain’t no tip worth putting up with that man, I tell you.” She motioned toward an old man sitting at the bar in red suspenders and a sweat-stained hat. He threw Alice a wink.
“You do that,” Melba tucked her order pad in her belt, “and I’ll give you 10 percent of my tips.”
Yahoo, a whole ten cents on the dollar. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hey, Melba.” A man at the end of the counter clanked his coffee cup against the Formica. “I’m going dry over here.” He raised his mug.
She jerked her head his way. “Better get going, darling. Old Carl’s like a sieve, always flowing from both ends.” She shoved a pot of coffee at Alice who hurried to Carl’s table, filling raised cups as she passed.
Melba lumbered by carrying a tray full of food. She pointed her elbow toward an empty table on the left. “Grab those dishes on your way back, will you, Sugar?”
By 10:30, Alice was covered in thick syrup and egg yolk, and her feet burned. She leaned against the dish station and watched as Melba and Miss Flirt made their way through the few remaining tables.
Around 11:00 things slowed. Melba handed her last customer his check, set her order pad on the counter, and walked back to Alice. “Thing’s will pick up soon.” She reached behind the breakfast bar and pulled out a blue-and-green-checkered tote bag. “If you wanna smoke, now’s the time. Before lunch rush hits.” She rummaged through her purse until she found a pack of cigarettes. “But we gotta go out by the Dumpsters, so’s the customers don’t see us.”
Melba headed to the back. Alice stepped out front where she could soak up a few rays of sunshine before returning to the dungeon. Perched on the edge of the curb, she hugged her knees. It was almost noon. Only four more hours to go. She grabbed her cell phone and called her boys, leaving a message for each of them. “It’s your mom. I love you. Call me, please.”
“Excuse me, miss?”
She looked up into clear blue eyes set beneath thick, blond eyebrows. “Yes?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to I-5 from here, would you?” The man ran his fingers through curly blond hair and stared at a map in his hand.
She stood. “I-5 is on the other side of Lake Washington.”
“And that is?”
“West. You’re going to want to head north on 202 until you get to 522.” She leaned forward and traced the highway with her finger, her nose filling with the woodsy scent of his aftershave.
“I knew I missed my turn.” He folded the map and tucked it into his back pocket. “After two months, you’d think I’d be a better navigator.” He gave her a boyish grin and glanced at the diner. “You work here?”
Alice blushed and glanced at her food-splattered uniform. She nodded. “First day.”
The man watched her for a moment, his eyes softening as if he instantly knew her life story. “Yeah? So how’s it going? The food any good?”
She shrugged. “If you like stale coffee and slimy pancakes.”
“They’re the best.” His smile quickened her pulse.
“I got to get going.”
The man glanced at his watch, the heart-stopping smile lingering on his lips. “Yeah, me too.” He paused. “You work tomorrow?”
She fingered her wedding ring. Was he flirting with her?
“Uh . . . I think so.”
Trent shut the door behind him, threw his keys onto the coffee table, and fell into the couch. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Mrs. Northrup’s number. Slumping forward, he dropped his phone and rubbed his face. There was no point calling. With unpaid leave, credit card interest rates ballooning, and enough debt to land him in the senate, he was out of options.
What had happened? When had everything gotten so out of control? And where was Alice?
Picking up his phone once again, he tried her cell. Her voice mail came on. He sat with the phone pressed to his ear until a shrill beep ended the call.
He laid his phone on the table.
The sound of the front door crashing into the wall jolted him to his feet. Tim stomped to his room, slamming the door behind him. Loud banging echoed down the hall then stopped. Tim emerged a moment later with a large duffel bag slung over each shoulder.
Trent stared at him. “Where are you going?”
“Alex’s.”
“When will you be back?”
“Don’t know.”
“Wait. I need to talk to you.”
Tim stopped in midstep, turned, and glared. “What?”
Trent rubbed the back of his neck. How does a father tell his son he is about to lose their house and has absolutely nowhere else to go?
“Never mind. We’ll talk later.”
Danny never made it home that night, which probably meant he’d joined Tim at Alex’s. Which was good. At least Alex’s parents had food in the fridge.
CHAPTER 32
After four days of bussing tables, Alice was starting to get the hang of things. She even learned how to deal with nasty old Carl. Setting her purse behind the counter, she tucked her hair behind her ears, and mentally prepared herself for yet another busy day. At eight o’clock, the morning rush was already well under way. Customers filled nearly every table and, according to Mr. Wilson, they were short handed.
“Grab an apron from the back room. You’ve just been promoted.”
She stared at him with wide eyes.
“Come with me, sweetie pie.” Melba grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her to a janitor’s closet near a large metal door. White aprons dangled from a hook. Stacks of order pads and pens piled on a shelf above them.
Melba grabbed one of each and handed them over. “Hurry up. I’ll be on the floor.”
Alice tied the apron around her waist and tucked the order pad inside the wide pockets. Nothing like crash course in waitressing to get her blood pumping.
She emerged to find Melba loaded down with plates and a long list of drink orders waiting to be filled.
“Grab the coffee pot and hit the floor running, sugar drop. And see about getting Carl his two-egg special.”
Alice complied immediately. Three tables later, Carl grabbed her arm. Glancing at the other waiting customers, she sighed, then set the coffee pot down. She pulled out her order pad and a pen.
Old man Carl’s face puckered as he watched Melba rush from one table to the next. “Send Melba my way, will ya, cutie? She seems to be dodging me this morning.”
“I’ll be more than happy to take your order. What can I get you, sir?”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I thought you was the bus girl.”
“I was, but they’re shorthanded today.”
He raised an eyebrow and studied her. But then his features relaxed. “I want that two-egg special. Not the one with bacon, but this one here.” He traced the menu with a dirty finger. “Eggs over easy, but not too runny. Extra butter, two scoops.”
Alice wrote down his request word for word. Carl leaned over to look at her pad.
“And make sure my bacon’s crisp. Not that soggy garbage Frank tries to give me. Not too greasy, either.” He shoved his mug to the edge of the table.
Alice filled it then hurried back to the kitchen, leaving half the restaurant with empty mugs.
She tore off the order and handed it to Frank.
His face twisted into a grin. “You writin’ a book, pretty lady?”
Melba arrived and grabbed the order. Throwing her head back, she laughed. “Whoo-wee, girl! Never waited tables before, have ya?”
Alice
shook her head.
Melba looked back at the floor and gave a shrug before returning her attention to Alice. “Let ’em wait. If I don’t school you now, you’ll be holding us up all morning.” She grabbed a menu, set it on the counter, and placed her order pad beside it.
“Never use whole words. See here, ‘2 OE sp w/bc’ means a two-egg special, over easy with bacon. And,” she scribbled some more, “‘msh/saus/sp + 2 T’ means a mushroom sausage and spinach omelet with two slices of toast on the side.”
“Hey Melba! Where’s that decaf I ordered?” A man in a plaid shirt raised his mug.
“Comin’, Abel.” She turned back to Alice. “Don’t sweat it, darlin’. Just scribble it down without the vowels. Frank here’ll figure it out, won’t ya handsome?”
Frank grinned and pushed a plate of scrambled eggs across the counter with a wink. “Don’t you know it?”
Melba picked up the plate and dropped a bottle of ketchup into her apron pocket. “You take the right, I’ll go left. Might wanna get those fellas that just came in some water.”
Alice nodded. She grabbed two glasses, filled them, then dashed back to the floor. She was almost finished with her second table when a familiar face flashed through her peripheral vision. When she turned to make eye contact, her heart gave an odd jump. It was the guy with the map, the one she’d met her first day. And based on his amused smile, he had been watching her.
Alice looked away as heat flushed her cheeks. What was it about him that got her so flustered? Besides his icy blue eyes and rock star smile, that is.
She ran her thumb over her wedding band and turned back to her customer. “Is there anything else?” She felt the stranger’s eyes on her, sending a flutter through her stomach.
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