Losing Penny

by Kristy Tate

  “Is it working?” Mia asked.

  “Not really,” Penny said.

  “Sort of,” Drake said.

  “Is that for Drake?” Penny limped into the kitchen and peered into the oatmeal pot. “You should add some bananas to that. Yesterday Helene told us that Drake needed banana and whole grains to help him sleep.”

  “But Drake doesn’t like bananas,” Mia said with a scowl.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Penny said. She grabbed a bag of slivered almonds from the cupboard, and before Mia could say anything, Penny tossed in a handful. “Helene said he needs these too.”

  Drake didn’t think he could handle any more women domination, so he picked up his phone and banged out the door.

  “Drake honey, where are you going?” his mom called after him. “This is almost done.” She turned to Penny. “No one likes cold oatmeal. It turns to wallpaper paste.”

  As if Mia had ever tasted wallpaper paste. Drake crossed the lawn, went down the bank, sat on a piece of driftwood, and called his dad. He took a few deep breaths while the phone rang.

  “Why is mom here?” Drake asked without a greeting.

  Instead of answering Drake’s question, Drake’s dad launched into his inevitable rant that had nothing to do with his mom and everything to do with Drake “stopping his foolishness, putting down his cursed novels, and coming home and take over the family business.”

  “What does my job to do with Mom?” Drake picked up a rock and threw it at a seagull. The bird flew away.

  “If you came and worked for me, I would have more time for your mom. She’s just lonely and bored.”

  “You say that, but you know it isn’t true. If I joined the firm, you wouldn’t work any less.”

  “Of course I would,” his dad returned.

  “No, you wouldn’t. You don’t have to work now, and everyone knows it.”

  “Someone in this family has to work.”

  How had he gotten sucked back into this tired whirlpool? It was always the same with his dad. Malcolm Islington was much too important and busy to do anything for anyone, and there was Drake wasting time with a book. Again. “I work. I even get regular paychecks, a fact that you choose to ignore. And I’m an author. I don’t ‘play’ on the computer. My books aren’t a waste of time.”

  Drake picked up another rock and lobbed it another gull. That bird also flew away. He’d never hit the birds. He’d never please his dad.

  “I have a multi-million dollar business, and someday it will be yours whether you want it or not. It’s high time you show your face around the office…and some gratitude.”

  Drake wanted to say, “Dad, I don’t want your business. I want you to sell your business. Take your millions of dollars and take mom on a trip somewhere far, far away.” But instead of confronting his dad, instead of telling his dad exactly what he could do with his money and business, he let his dad’s words roll away. Since his dad would never understand, he sat through the harangue without comment and without even really listening. Malcolm Islington worked like a dog with a prize bone and he didn’t have time to pull his wife out of his son’s hair.

  “How long is mom going to stay here?” Drake asked.

  “How the hell should I know?” his dad bellowed.

  “Do you know what the Dow is doing today?”

  For a moment Drake heard the crashing waves and crying gulls, but not a sound from his dad. Drake continued, “I just think that if you take the time to know what’s happening with the markets, you should take the time to know what’s happening with your wife.”

  Drake had the last word, but it didn’t feel as good as it should. With slumped shoulders, he hung up and returned to the house. Stopping on the back porch, he listened to Penny and his mom and watched them through the window. Penny, dressed in her cutoff T-shirt and jean shorts, had her laptop open and was reading off the Internet.

  “It says here that even getting less than six hours of sleep a night increases your risk of heart disease, stroke, and viral infections.” Penny had morning hair and wore no make-up, and Drake thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Did you know that more people die from lack of sleep than from lack of food?” Penny asked.

  “Can that be true?” Mia sliced a banana into the oatmeal.

  Drake was not about to eat a warm banana. He felt uncomfortable about Penny and his mom spending so much time together, preparing his food, and trying treat his insomnia. He loved his mom, but his feelings for Penny were not as easy to define. She made him laugh. He liked living with her. He liked having her around. He liked lying beside her in the night, talking to her as she fell asleep, listening to her quiet, rhythmic breath. And heaven help him, he liked kissing her, if that brief—too brief—moment in the moonlight could be called a kiss.

  He wanted to do it again. He had made a mess of most of his meaningful relationships—his dad, Blair, Magdalena—and he didn’t want to mess things up with Penny. Yet by kissing her, Drake felt like he already had messed thing up. Their easy camaraderie had disappeared the moment he’d taken her into his arms. A kiss that couldn’t be unkissed.

  “Drake? Is that you, honey?” his mom called, making Drake feel like he was four years old again.

  He straightened his shoulders and headed for the kitchen.

  He would take his oatmeal like Bad Dog Bowser.

  ***

  Drake was midway through his breakfast when Trevor knocked on the door. Wolfgang, who had been lounging at Drake’s feet, bolted up and barked.

  “That’s annoying,” Mia said, frowning into her cup of tea.

  Not as annoying as Trevor Marx. “He’s a watchdog, Mom,” Drake said, motioning through the window for Trevor to come in. “He’s just doing his job.”

  Wolfgang rose to his feet, growling low and deep as Trevor entered the room.

  “This dog does not like me,” Trevor complained.

  He’s not the only one. Drake looked at his watch—two more hours until lunch at the club. What was Trevor doing here?

  “Here, boy,” Trevor coaxed, holding out his hand for the dog to sniff.

  Wolfgang sat down, placing his bottom on the top of Drake’s running shoe, his tail smacking Drake’s shin. He growled again.

  Trevor shook his head. “What did you do to win him over?”

  Drake smiled and shook his head. “Animal magnetism, I guess.”

  “Furry friends flock together,” Penny said, limping down the stairs.

  Drake’s spoon paused over his oatmeal. “Are you going out with him?”

  “See, he is part watchdog!” Penny laughed and sat down on the sofa to put on one shoe; she left the other foot in a sock.

  “You don’t mind, right? You are divorced.” Trevor said. It sounded like a half question half statement.

  “How can he mind? He’s going out with your sister,” Mia spoke up.

  Geez, thank you, Mom.

  Wolfgang growled and Drake suppressed his own.

  “Now, where are you two headed?” Mia asked.

  “I’m going to show her the town,” Trevor said, holding out his hand to Penny.

  Drake had a hard time swallowing his oatmeal as he watched Trevor hand Penny her cane. He chased it down with a slug of orange juice and nearly choked when Penny mentioned the Bluebird Café.

  He felt her eyes on him as he coughed. The juice burned the back of his throat.

  “What is it about that place? Can it be so horrible?” Penny asked.

  “His old girlfriend used to work there,” Mia said.

  Again, thank you, Mom.

  “Oh,” Penny said, comprehension dawning. “You don’t want me to meet Blair?”

  Drake shook his head. “It’s not that…anyway, I think she’s in Aruba.”

  Penny frowned at him then took Trevor’s arm. “Have fun at the club,” she said.

  Wolfgang barked three times as Penny and Trevor disappeared through the door.

  Chapter 29
>
  Your mother was right: Breakfast really is the most important meal of the day. Not only does it give you energy to start a new day, but breakfast is linked to many health benefits including weight control and improved concentration and performance.

  From Losing Penny and Pounds

  Why didn’t Drake want her to meet Blair? Thinking about Blair gave Penny a sick, sinking feeling in her belly and an acidic taste in the back of her throat. Remembering that she hadn’t eaten, she asked, “Does the Bluebird serve breakfast?”

  Trevor scratched his head as he pointed the car toward town. “I’ve never eaten there.”

  “Really? There are only two choices in town and you avoid one of them?”

  “That’s not true,” Trevor said, driving over the narrow bridge that crossed the Chebar. “There’s the bakery, and really, it’s so good that it’s amazing that anyone would ever choose to eat anywhere else.”

  “Baked goods for every meal? No protein or vegetables?”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s protein in cream puffs.”

  “Maybe one protein gram in each 100 calorie bite,” Penny murmured as they pulled up to the first of the three stoplights in town.

  Other than the other night when she’d come into town with Drake, she hadn’t been to Rose Arbor in years. When she was with Drake, he seemed to take all of her attention. Everything and everyone was strictly peripheral when he was around. Now, without him, she was able to see the town and measure its changes. The trees in the green were taller. A couple of storefronts needed paint. Grass sprouted between sidewalk cracks.

  Trevor looked over at her as he parked the Porsche. “It never changes. It still looks the same as when we were kids.”

  Penny gave him a startled look. Had he remembered her after all?

  “That’s what Melinda always says—some things never change,” he said.

  Penny exhaled slowly. The “we” meant him and Melinda. She paused with her hand on the door and wondered why she trusted Drake more than she trusted Trevor with her secret.Trevor came to help her from the car. He was saying something, but Penny’s thoughts were scrambled as she tried to forget Drake and focus on Trevor.

  He was extolling the virtues of apple fritters. Penny’s mind calculated the breaded chopped apple fried in hot oil. Four hundred to eight hundred calories. Oh, dear heaven, no. Especially since she couldn’t run with the gash on her foot. “Maybe just the apple.”

  “Oh come on, what kind of glutton girl are you?”

  Penny’s previously warm feelings toward Trevor chilled.

  He looked at her face and caught his mistake. “I bet they have bagels and coffee.”

  A bagel had about three hundred calories. Better than a fritter, but not by much. When they stopped in front of Neilson’s bakery, she seriously doubted if anything in the glass case was less than five hundred calories, one third of her daily allowance.

  “Let’s just go to the Bluebird,” Penny suggested.

  “Are you sure?” Trevor asked. “They get all their baked goods from the bakery.”

  “I thought you hadn’t been there before.” Penny limped away from the bakery and the delicious smell seeping through the window.

  “I haven’t. I make it a rule never to eat anywhere with a neon sign.”

  Penny rolled her eyes.

  “Okay,” Trevor admitted, “I know it’s a stupid standard, but at least I have one.”

  She laughed. “Just one?”

  He shrugged. “How many standards do you need? They just get in the way.”

  Penny stopped in front of the Bluebird café. “Are you telling me that if this café changed its sign then you would eat here?”

  “Maybe once.”

  “Come on,” she said, pushing through the door. “Let me lead you astray.”

  He shuffled his feet. “I only have one standard. It seems a pity to lower it for a day-old bagel.”

  “Fine, don’t eat. You can watch me.”

  His shoulders sagged. “That’s no fun.”

  “I’m not sure that standards and fun are synonymous.”

  “True.” He held the door open for her, but she stopped in front of a flier taped on the window.

  “Look—it’s The Frontier Days celebration! I’d completely forgotten about that!”

  “Oh yeah,” Trevor said with much less enthusiasm. “Hospital bed races, pie eating contests, and all that.”

  “Donkey basketball!”

  “The overweight mayor and senior citizen city council members take on the equally chubby school board perched on uncooperative donkeys passing balls…pooping balls.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “Stop it. I love Frontier Days.”

  He looked at her sharply. “I thought this was your first time in Rose Arbor?”

  “I mean, I love small town celebrations. I haven’t been to Rose Arbor’s, of course, but I have to go.” She pointed to the flyer, resting her finger on the information on the donkey basketball game.

  Trevor sighed. “Can we get coffee first?”

  “And cocoa.” Penny nodded. She half expected to see a Norman Rockwellesque 50s couple sitting at the bar, sharing a milk shake.

  “Cute,” Trevor said, settling into the booth and eyeing the vintage decor. It didn’t sound like a compliment.

  Penny flipped open the menu. She scanned the breakfast items before settling on a banana and yogurt.

  A blonde bounced over. “Hey, I’m Megan. Can I take your order?”

  But Penny wasn’t looking at Megan, she was looking at Andrea, sniffing over the pancakes and sausage sizzling on the grill. An idea struck.

  After Megan took their orders, Penny leaned over the table and whispered to Trevor. “We can help her, you know.”

  Trevor looked around. “Who? The blonde?”

  “No.” Penny jerked her head at Andrea.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because being helpful is one of my standards.” She paused. “You do know that’s why we came here, right? To see if we could help her café.”

  “We came here, but only you came to help,” Trevor shot Andrea another look. “I am merely your transportation.”

  Penny pressed her lips together when Megan returned with cocoa and coffee. “It’s nice to be heroic and save crying damsels,” Penny told him, blowing into her cocoa.

  “We don’t even know why she’s crying.” Trevor frowned into his coffee.

  “Yes, we do. Remember?”

  “Something about a hateful cracker.”

  “And the failing café,” Penny reminded him. “We can’t do anything about the cracker guy, but we can help her business.”

  Trevor looked relieved, and Penny wondered if he’d thought she wanted him to woo Andrea. She looked back at the grill. Andrea, without red eyes and a puffy nose, would be pretty. She glanced back at Trevor and guessed that he felt differently.

  “You want to lend her money?” Trevor asked, somewhat stiffly.

  “That’s not what I was thinking.” She braced her elbows on the table and outlined her plan.

  ***

  “But I don’t know how to cater,” Andrea said, clearly overwhelmed by Penny’s enthusiasm.

  “Its super easy—and it’ll be fun!”

  “Fun…” Andrea looked doubtful.

  “And I need your help.”

  Trevor raised his eyebrows. “Honesty is not one of your standards?”

  Penny shushed him.

  Andrea’s gaze went from Penny to Trevor then back to Penny. “You don’t need my help?”

  “Of course I do. If I’m going to cater a party I’ll need all the help I can get. And it’s obvious you know how to cook.”

  “Hamburgers,” Andrea said woodenly.

  “And pancakes and probably a lot of other tasties,” Penny said.

  Trevor tried to hide his smirk as he sipped his coffee.

  Andrea ran her fingers through her hair. “I suppose I could try. I do need the money.”

&nbs
p; “And it will be good marketing for the café.”

  “It will?” Andrea’s voice squeaked. “How will anyone know about my café?”

  “Because we’ll have fliers with your menu on them.”

  Andrea looked confused. “I have a menu?”

  Penny waved her hand to demonstrate the café Vanna White style. “Of course you do.”

  Andrea shook her head. “People really aren’t all that interested in hamburgers and fries, especially not at parties at the Marx’s place.” Andrea’s eyes lit up as if she’d just discovered a universal truth. “People aren’t all that interested in hamburgers,” she whispered.

  Penny smiled as she filled Andrea in on the details that she made up only slightly faster than she talked.

  After Andrea returned to her place behind the grill, Trevor bit into his pancake. “And when are you going to tell my sister that she’s hosting a birthday party for your husband?”

  “My ex-husband,” Penny whispered. “She’ll be thrilled to do this for Drake. Just watch.”

  Trevor shrugged and looked skeptical. “Why are we doing this?”

  “Because we can. Listen, I’ll pay for everything.”

  “You’re going to pay yourself and that short order cook to cater a party at my dad’s house?”

  “Not at his house, at the beach below his house, and don’t call her that. By the time I’m done with her, you’ll be calling her a gourmet.”

  “Because you’re a foodie and you have the magical power to turn everyone else into a foodie?”

  Penny settled back into the booth, a huge smile spreading over her face.

  Chapter 30

  “What have I to do with thee, monster of the deep?” Hans called as the creature rose from the billowing waves, drenching him with ocean spray. A mottled green and purple, the horned serpent lifted itself up like a column searching the sky for a lost heaven. Gazing into the dragon’s flaming red eyes, Hans knew the serpent had come to remind him he was unworthy of Ingrid’s love.

  From Hans and the Sunstone