Okay, the words I knew, but in that order, they made no sense. “You’re renting my room to a stranger? Do you need money? Are you guys okay?”
Dad waved my concern away. “We’re fine. It’s nothing to do with money, and he’s not a stranger. Do you remember my buddy, Dan Barrington?”
It took a minute to dredge the connection up from my addled brain. “The guy you met in Boy Scouts and stayed friends with, right? From Vermont. We went to his house once when I was little.” I rubbed my fingers over the nubby fabric on the arm of the chair and avoided looking at my mom while I tried to pull snippets of that visit from my memory.
"He lived on a farm. There were horses, cows, a couple of kids. I can't remember their names, but we jumped in the hay, and the boy put a frog down my back."
“If I promise never to do that again, will you forgive me?” A deep voice startled me and, putting the pieces together, I turned to confront David Barrington, the man who was about to make me homeless for the second time in the same day.
CHAPTER 4
While I searched my memory for anything I might have done to deserve such lousy karma, David waited for an answer.
"Of course. I'm sorry." I rose and offered him my hand. "Everly Has … um, Dupree. It's good to see you again," I lied right to his face, and he could tell because I was too tired and emotionally drained to hide the whole of my disdain.
Turning to my mother, I said, “Could you come outside with me? I need to speak to you privately.”
She followed me to the van and settled into the passenger seat. “Before you ask, I’ll say that this was all your father’s idea. He feels he owes a debt to Dan and giving David a place to stay was a way to repay it in some small part. David’s been through a rough time, and in our defense, we had no idea there were problems in your marriage.”
Her tone carried both an apology and a hint of accusation.
“Well, neither did I until I came home yesterday and found him in bed with my former best friend.”
While she might be something of a control freak and annoyed me at times, I never doubted my mother loved me, or that, given a chance, she’d have gone to town on my soon-to-be ex. I’d seen her verbally strip the hide off a man before, and I almost regretted not letting her have her way with Paul.
“I’ll clean out the sewing room. I’m sure we can fit a small bed in there.”
Not with some strange man wandering around the house.
“No, Mom. I’ll get a room at the Bide-A-Way for a week. It shouldn’t take me longer than that to find an apartment and a job.” After all, I knew plenty of people in town. Total piece of cake. “Tell Daddy I’ll come by again soon, okay?”
“At least stay for supper.” She reached over and squeezed my hand where it rested on the steering wheel.
“Thanks, but no. I’m not up to being good company. The Blue Moon is still open late, right? If I get hungry later, I’ll pop in for a bite. It’s all going to work out.” I wasn’t sure if it was her I needed to convince or me.
The knots at the end of my rope were frayed, frazzled, and too tattered to hold my weight, which is why it took so long to trip my suspicions when the motel clerk offered me a ridiculously low rate for a week’s stay.
Squinting through the haze of exhaustion, I thought she looked familiar.
“You play canasta with my mother, don’t you? Admit it, she called and asked you to give me the friends and family discount.” I wasn’t complaining, because it meant Mom cared, but I could have done without my business becoming fodder for the gossip mill.
Oh, who was I kidding? I'd driven through town in a moving van. The mill was already turning, and the only question now was how finely it would grind me up before it spit me out. Couldn't be worse than what Paul had done to me, so I gladly paid for the week, and accepted the look of pity that came with the key.
"It's offseason for another week or so,” the woman said, offering me a smile. “Not even your mother could talk me into that kind of a deal once the tourists start rolling in."
I’m pretty sure she was hinting I needed to be gone by then. “Grab an ice bucket from the shelf if you want one. There’s an ice maker, a couple of vending machines, and a coin-op washer and dryer in the room with the dark green door. I lock up at ten sharp so plan accordingly.”
The number on the house-shaped fob went to the last door of the seven rooms—three on the left side of the office, four on the right. I pulled into a parking spot next to a blue sedan with a dented-up front fender and a bumper sticker advertising the owner had no life because his kid played basketball.
Hoping that kid wasn't planning to play ball in the next room, I surveyed my temporary home. The doors were painted with cheerful candy-colored pastels, each door a different hue, and flanked by matching window boxes. Combined, they gave the place a family-friendly appeal.
The room was clean, I’ll say that much for it, but it boasted decor right out of a magazine ad from the seventies. Daisies in pumpkin orange and yellow ocher cavorted across a chocolate background of the wallpaper and clashed with the nubby textured bedspread in olive green. Paul would have hated every little thing about the place, but after my eyes adjusted to the riot of pattern, the room grew on me.
I tossed my purse on the nightstand, cranked up the AC, and fell face first onto the surprisingly comfortable bed. Because night comes late in the summer, full darkness was still a couple of hours away when I slid into an exhausted, dreamless sleep without even bothering to unpack. A sleep that was rudely interrupted just before midnight by the unmistakable sound of a headboard knocking against the wall in the room next door.
Groaning, I searched for something to throw at the wall, and since there was nothing but a lamp bolted to the nightstand and a Bible in the drawer, I chose my pillow. And while it flew across the room, there was no satisfying thump when it landed. Worse, the second pillow was too soft to sleep on, so I had to get out of bed and retrieve the one I’d thrown.
Once up and moving, I realized the room had gone chilly, but I was too sleep-addled to change the temperature again. With another groan, I crawled under the covers and dragged them over my head to tune out the noise.
Sleep came harder the second time, and when I finally fell, I dreamed of people staring at me with sad faces and talking in solemn tones.
Sunlight speared through the gap between the drapes to fall across my face at what turned out to be six o’clock the next morning but felt like the crack of dawn. With the light tickling my lids, I woke with only a vague notion of where I was until everything came back in a rush. I'd slept nearly ten hours, and as much as I might want to escape back into dreamland, there were things I needed to do.
I rose and confronted myself in the mirror over the bathroom sink. Hair sticking up every which way, eyes crusted with gunk, and crease marks on my cheek—I looked like twenty pounds of crap in a ten-pound bag. A shower and some serious makeup were in order if I was going to find a job and a place to live. I could do this, right? Well, it wasn’t like I had a choice, so I figured I’d better get moving.
All of my clothes were still in the van, so I wet my hands and ran them through my hair until it resembled a damp bird’s nest—which was an improvement. For the first time in two days, it seemed luck was on my side when I managed to grab what I needed without running into anyone who might be scarred for life by the sight of me.
Some part of my brain noticed the truck parked next to the U-Haul van but was too bleary to remember why it looked familiar. Half an hour later, when the heated spray of the shower had blown away most of the cobwebs, the truck was gone, and by the time I got to Mabel's Blue Moon Diner, I’d forgotten all about it.
If not for the sign mounted on a pole in the near corner of the parking lot, you'd be hard-pressed to recognize Mabel's as a place of business. It looked more like a double-wide modular home someone had plunked down in the middle of town. I stepped through the front door that was painted a screaming red and just stood there for a moment while
the mingled scents of breakfast washed over me.
Four years of marriage to a man who wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this had not adjusted my palette to his taste for small bites artistically arranged on a plate. Mabel didn’t bother with pretension and would have gleefully tossed him out the door if he’d dared criticize her choice of garnish—a slice of lemon on a leaf of curly kale adorned every plate. Standing just a shade over six feet tall and built like her daddy was a refrigerator and her momma had ties to Wonder Woman’s tribe, Mabel tolerated no disrespect in her place of business.
On my way to an open booth, I grabbed the local paper to look at the want ads while I ate, but didn’t bother with a menu. Mabel's loaded omelet with a side of home fries had been on the menu since she opened and was my idea of the ultimate comfort food.
“Everly, I’d heard you were in town.” I laid the paper aside and looked up at the familiar, smiling face of Jacy Wade, or rather, Jacy Dean now that she was married.
Did she know? Was she looking at me with pity or speculation?
The better question was: why was I being such a fool? Jacy was my oldest friend. Even if she’d heard about my unfortunate break-up, she wasn’t the type to revel in someone else’s misfortune — especially not mine.
I rapped my knee on the table as I rose to exchange a hug, then she held me at arm’s length. “There you are. I’ve missed that face.” She pulled me in close again, and since it was there, I breathed in the honey-and-floral scent of the cologne she’d been using since ninth grade—the year her grandmother deemed her old enough for such things.
“Still rocking that Sweet Honesty.” It felt good to smile and to be smiled upon in return.
“My signature scent to the last drop.”
It felt even better to giggle at the shared memory.
Based on a rumor that the cologne was being discontinued, and convinced the bottles would eventually become collector’s items, Jacy’s grandmother ordered cases of the stuff. Enough, she said, to get rich off her investment. She’d sworn off Avon entirely when the rumor had proven false, but from then on, Jacy received a bottle at every holiday—and I mean every single one, including Columbus Day and Fourth of July.
“When I die at the ripe old age of a hundred and ten, my kids will put the last five bottles in my casket just to make sure I have enough for the afterlife.”
“And when you meet up with your grandmother on the streets of gold, you’ll give her a spritz for old time’s sake.” I giggled again as I filled in the rest of the vow she’d made years ago.
Jacy scribbled something on her menu pad and pulled off the top sheet. "Let me put your order in, and I'll take my break so we can catch up." That last she tossed over her shoulder as she rounded the counter to hang the order on a revolving rack. She said something to Mabel in a low enough voice I couldn't make out what it was, and on her way back, grabbed the pot of hot water and a couple of tea bags.
“I don’t get to order?” I couldn’t help but smile in Jacy’s presence.
“Pfft.” She settled her trim body into the seat across from me, and with economical movements, made us each a cup of tea. “Some people drown their sorrows in alcohol, some in sweets. You always go for the loaded.”
“I’m that predictable?” But she’d confirmed the rumors were already flying. “How did you know I’d need solace?”
Leaning back, Jacy shot me a raised eyebrow. “You drove through town in a moving van that was then spotted at the Bide-A-Way motel. Didn’t take much of a leap to figure out something happened. If you hadn’t shown up here today, I’d have come knocking on your door with ice cream and a bottle of wine later. Just in case you wanted to indulge in a little omelet-free consolation.”
"It would have been good wine, right? Not that rotgut stuff we swiped from under your mom's sink when we were sixteen." I shuddered at the memory, and Jacy laughed.
“No, my tastes have improved considerably. As I remember, that was cooking wine and more than halfway to the vinegar stage, besides. I’ve never been that sick again in my life.”
Mabel dinged the bell to announce my order was ready, and Jacy scrambled up to grab two plates. “Figured I’d eat with you. Now, tell me what happened. The real story.”
The first bite of vegetable-flecked egg hit my stomach and spread warmth like a blessing for the troubled soul.
"Not much to tell. I caught him in bed with another woman." No one needed to know how close a friend she'd been since that was insult added to injury.
“You caught him? Like right in the middle of—” Instead of saying the word sex, Jacy used a hand gesture.
My blood rushed down to my feet at the memory. “Yeah, right in the middle.”
Without pity, Jacy sympathized. “That’s horrible, Ev. I'm sorry. Are you okay? Can I do anything?”
Anyone else might have fished for every detail, but Jacy was more concerned about me than a salacious story. Her concern untied some of the knotted tension I’d carried for the past two days.
“I’ve missed you, Jacy. I really have.”
“What are you going to do now? Are you moving back home?” She eyed me with hope.
I sighed. “That’s the plan. I thought I would stay with my folks for a week or so while I made other arrangements, but …”
“But they’re renting your room out to that David guy, so you ended up at the Bide-A-Way where … never mind.” She dropped eye contact and gave her eggs some undue attention.
“Where what? If there’s something hinky going on out there, I’d like to know about it. Isn’t it a safe place anymore?” My mother wasn’t prone to gossip, but you’d think she’d have told me if there was a reason why I shouldn’t be staying there.
With a funny look on her face, Jacy waved my concerns aside and gulped down a mouthful of tea to buy some time. “Nothing like that, it’s just … well, Hudson’s staying there at the moment and I figured, you know, with your history, it might be awkward.”
Now I remembered where I’d seen that truck before, and I didn’t think it was merely a coincidence that had landed me in the room next to his. Resisting the urge to bang my head on the table took more effort than you’d have thought possible.
“I’m a good person. You think so, right? So why is karma out to get me all of a sudden?”
She might not have pried into the dirty details of my imploding marriage, but Jacy was practically bouncing in her seat with eagerness to tell me what she knew of my former boyfriend’s current situation.
“There was a scandal at the high school. No one knows exactly what happened, but he got demoted from head coach to assistant, and I heard even that’s only on a trial basis. Then a few weeks ago, he moved out of his house and took a room at the motel.”
It looked like I wasn’t the only one whose life had hit the skids, but that didn’t mean I wanted to start a club with him or anything.
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll try to avoid running into him.”
Her break ending, Jacy reached for my plate, stacked it on top of hers, and slid out of the booth. “You’d think after all these years, he’d let it go.” She referred to the grudge Hudson had held in my honor ever since I’d broken things off with him before leaving for college.
“I slapped his ego, but he’ll have to find a way to move on now that I’m going to be living here again. Speaking of which, do you know if Leo Hanson still owns Brookside apartments? I need a place to live.”
Jacy looked at her watch. "He does, and if you hang around another few minutes, he'll be in for his daily cup of coffee. He's here like clockwork." She grinned and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not for the cup of Joe, either. He comes in to make eyes at Mabel."
Even if he were wearing boots with heels, Leo would have to stretch his neck if he didn’t want to be looking Mabel's boobs right in the eye, and if he weighed anything over a buck fifty, I’d be shocked. An unlikelier looking couple might never exist. “He’s set his sights high, ha
sn’t he? Does she like him back?”
“Oh, you know Mabel. Dating doesn’t rate high on her list of priorities. Or anywhere on it, really. I’m glad you’re back. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Without waiting for me to answer, Jacy leaned down and gave me a one-armed hug. “Breakfast is on me, and I’ll see you later,” she promised, then bustled off to clear and reset one of the other tables.
Keeping an eye on the door, I opened the paper to the classifieds and scanned through the limited options in the help-wanted section. I wasn’t qualified for anything in the health industry or interested in a management position that was a euphemism for direct sales. You can call them floor maintenance systems all you want, but they’re still vacuum cleaners, and selling them in any capacity was not my thing.
Thankful for Jacy’s warning, I ruled out the substitute teacher position at the local high school where I’d be almost guaranteed to run into Hudson every day, too.
I’d given up on finding anything when Leo walked in and chose a seat where, if he leaned a little to the left, he could see into the kitchen. Watching him do just that, I knew Jacy had nailed it, but then, she’d always been able to spot a possible love connection from fifty paces.
As he picked up his cup and took a sip, his eyes tracked Mabel's every move. If I didn’t know he was painfully shy and completely harmless, he’d have given me the creepy stalker vibe. Except there was a sweet hopefulness to him that made me feel sad for them both. The one who might never know love and the one determined it wasn’t for her.
He’s better off, the bitter and scorned part of me insisted. They both were.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hanson. May I?” I pointed to the chair opposite him at the table. Behind thick glasses, his eyes widened, but he nodded cordially enough and made polite conversation by asking after my parents.
"They're doing very well, thank you. The reason I'm bothering you is I'm moving back to town, and I need a place to live, so I was wondering if you had any apartments available." Leo owned a pair of four up/four down units on the edge of town.
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