Book Four of the Winning Odds Series: Soon to be a Movie

by MaryAnn Myers

  As always, the clubhouse would likely serve over a hundred orders of the day’s special on Chef Diamond Lou’s recommendation alone. Wendy, Tom, and Richard all closed their menus and laid them down. Blackened pork and the grain of the Inca Emperor sounded good to them.

  Tom took a drink of water and looked at Richard, picking up where they left off. “So you’re saying Heather didn’t talk to you at all this morning. She didn’t even say good-bye, kiss my ass, there’s the door? Nothing?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s just wrong.”

  Wendy shook her head. “Tom, you don’t know what’s going on in Heather’s mind. You can’t just say something like that.”

  “Yes, I can. Look at his face.” He pointed to Richard. “Does that look like the face of a guilty man?”

  Wendy laughed. “No. But come on. You have to admit these notes are a little suspicious.”

  No sooner said than in walked Heather.

  “Be on your best behavior,” Tom cautioned Richard. “She doesn’t look happy.”

  Richard pulled out a chair for her. He thought about standing. But he never did that as a rule and didn’t want to give her any reason to be even more suspicious. Certainly she’d say, “What are you doing that for? You never stand to greet me. Why now?” Best to stay seated and just smile, he told himself.

  Heather and Wendy exchanged greetings, but for some reason, instead of saying hello to Tom, Heather just gave him a disapproving glance, as if he was somehow a partner in Richard’s crime.

  “Wait a minute.” Tom leaned forward, just about to say something until Wendy tapped him with her foot.

  “So what’s going on?” Richard asked.

  “Nothing. I’m uh…nothing,” Heather said. “Nothing.”

  For a long time now, Richard thought her doing nothing was the problem; too much time on her hands. One can only shop so much. She had a housekeeper. They had a gardener. She had her nails done every week, her hair cut to perfection every two weeks. She was impeccably dressed, beautifully, the latest style always. She even had their groceries delivered to their house.

  Heather looked out at the empty racetrack and heaved a weighted sigh.

  “We’re doing the special,” Wendy said.

  “All right,” Heather responded, still looking out the window.

  Richard studied her profile and glanced at her hands. There was a time when she was hooked on pain killers for her frequent headaches and her hands would show a slight tremor. He was relieved to see them steady.

  While Richard motioned to the server and ordered lunch for Heather, Wendy tried striking up a conversation with her. The two got along famously. They were friends and usually never at a loss for words.

  “Randy heard from Dawn last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. She was in the village near where her Aunt Maeve died.”

  “I still can’t believe she’s gone. She was such an awesome woman, always doing something for someone else. Can you imagine…?”

  Richard had suggested volunteering to Heather many times. She had even tried a few local organizations, but always ended up feeling useless. Sorting clothes and running a cash register seemed ridiculous when she could just make a sizable donation instead. She considered going with Liz and Señor on one of their volunteer mission trips to the Appalachian area until she realized their primitive accommodations had spiders and bugs. She could have stayed at a hotel nearby but that seemed counterproductive too. So, she sent the money she would have spent and then some.

  “She seemed to think she’d be going to the river today,” Wendy said.

  “Who?” Heather asked.

  “Dawn,” Richard said. “She’s talking about Dawn.”

  “Oh.” Heather looked at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. I want you to be happy.”

  Heather sighed, nodding. “So do I.”

  Tom couldn’t stand the awkwardness. “Heather, Richard doesn’t know who this Janet is that keeps leaving him messages.”

  “Hmmm.” She didn’t seem to find it odd that Tom would know about this Janet person. She didn’t find it odd that he’d brought it up just now seemingly out of the blue. “What else did Dawn say,” she asked Wendy.

  “Um….” Wendy had to think. “Just that everything was going well and that she’d met a really nice lady on the plane. The woman went with her to the village. She’s a volunteer and has made many trips there.”

  Tom took another drink of water, perfectly content to let Wendy do all the talking. He’d only been around Heather one other time when she was like this. He didn’t know what to say to her then either.

  Everyone seemed relieved when their meals were served, Heather included.

  “Wow!” they echoed. “Wow!”

  Linda Dillon had called in a lunch order, came up to get it, and stopped at their table while they were eating. “Okay, don’t make too much out of this, but I’m going on a second date.” She waved to a trainer and his wife four tables down and turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, a Janet Dupree just phoned. She said she wanted to thank you again for all that you did in Washington. She said you were great and that she’d be in touch.”

  Heather stared down at her plate. What little appetite she had vanished instantly. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She wasn’t thirsty. She wasn’t anything. If it weren’t for Cracker Jack Henderson showing up at just that precise moment, she probably would have stood up and left. As it was, she loved the way Cracker Jack always made her laugh. She loved his crazy hair. When he suggested after lunch they go for a trolley ride around town, she accepted eagerly. It beat going home to an empty house. An empty life.

  ~ * ~

  George and Señor walked to the building site mid-afternoon and were disappointed to find only one machine operator on duty. “They’re finishing up another job across town,” the man said. “They’ll be here tomorrow.”

  One operator on a backhoe digging a trench wasn’t much entertainment. “The problem as I see it,” Señor said. “We have everything working too smoothly here. We’re like a fine-tuned, well-oiled machine.”

  George laughed. Señor wasn’t much help with the horses. He liked them enough but wasn’t too keen on handling them. He’d lead a mare on occasion, if she was quiet, or the ponies. But usually his help came in the form of keeping the farm equipment in good order and helping take care of the grounds. George glanced out over the pastures at the horses grazing contentedly. It was a nice farm, a simple farm, and he loved working here. He loved living here. Bored though he might be off and on, it was home. Just this morning, Glenda had shared the exact same feelings.

  “I dread the day we can’t work here anymore,” she’d said. “What’ll we do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we don’t own this house. It’s part of the farm.”

  “Then I guess we’ll just have to move into T-Bone’s Place.” Although George had made a joke of it, the thought that someday they might have to leave Meg’s Meadows played heavy on his mind from time to time also. He couldn’t imagine not being able to take care of the horses. He couldn’t imagine not belonging here anymore - not having the family dinners every night - not being here for foaling season - not being here with Beau Born.

  “What’s the matter?” Señor asked.

  “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About what a pain in the ass you are.”

  Señor laughed. “I was just thinking the same thing about you. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

  “Me too.” They both waved to the machine operator and went in opposite directions. George took the road. Señor took the now well-beaten path to his house. Maeve, Maria, and D.R. were playing in the yard and rushed to greet him.

  “Grandpa! Grandpa!”

  Señor smiled, recalling that a few years ago when he wasn’t so sure selling the homestead and moving here was such a good idea. He and Liz would be losing their ind
ependence. They’d also be losing their way of life. “But look what I would have missed out on,” he said to himself. Cindy and Marvin would be moving here in a couple of weeks, maybe more grandchildren in the future, and family all around. D.R. reached him first and grabbed hold of one of his hands. Maria and Maeve grabbed the other.

  “Grandma says we’re gonna have dumplins for dinner,” Maeve said.

  “And spare-gus,” Maria added.

  “Oh, I love spare-gus and dumplins,” Señor said, saying exactly the same way they had. “I hope we’re having chocolate cake too.”

  “We are!” D.R. liked holding his grandpa’s hand. They were rough and tough like a cowboy’s. His Grandpa liked spitting too and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. It was the cowboy thing to do. Señor glanced at him and smiled. Next year D.R. would be going to school. He hoped he remained a cowboy for a long time and lived on a farm forever.

  Liz came out onto the porch, breathless and waving. “Cindy and Marvin are on their way home! They’ll be here by dinner!”

  “What? You’re kidding? For good?”

  “Yes! For good!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Richard’s wife Heather couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun and couldn’t stop laughing. Cracker Jack shared one story after another as the two of them tooled along in the trolley with seemingly not a care in the world.

  “How about some ice cream?” he said.

  “That sounds good. Sure!”

  As luck would have it, there were two parallel parking places on Main Street just outside the Popcorn Shop in a nearby town. When a patrolman on foot made a snap decision to let them stop there, it wasn’t long before people were climbing up inside, taking seats, and snapping pictures of their loved ones and friends. Many of them recognized Cracker Jack from his celebrity days and handed him children and dogs and posed with him eating popcorn and ice cream cones - Cracker Jack’s wild hair blowing back off his face and big smiles. An elderly woman sat on his lap on the bottom step with her arm around his neck. “Does the trolley name show in the picture?” she asked her son.

  “Yes!” He laughed. “T-Bone’s Place, Retirement Home for Old Racetrackers.”

  “That’s me,” she said. “I always loved the ponies!”

  After the photo ops were over, from there, Cracker Jack and Heather drove to the cemetery where Cracker Jack’s wife had been buried. Heather sat somberly at his side as they pulled in and parked. Only a few other visitors were in the cemetery. Heather wasn’t sure what to do - stay in the trolley, avoid looking at the other people out of respect, crawl under the seat.

  “Oh, honey, look who’s here!” a man across the way said. “It’s Cracker Jack Henderson. Remember him?”

  The woman nodded and smiled. “Hello, Cracker Jack!”

  “Hello!” Cracker Jack yelled back, waving. “I’m here to visit my wife.”

  “Oh, she was such a lovely woman,” the man said.

  Cracker Jack reached for Heather’s hand. “Come on. Come on. Come see.”

  Heather stepped down out of the trolley.

  “A cemetery is a wonderful place.” Cracker Jack sensed her apprehension. “I say a bunch of us come back one night and load up the spirits and go for a midnight ride.”

  Heather smiled, her good mood returning. “How many do you think will fit?”

  “They’re spirits!” Cracker Jack said. “They won’t take up much space. We’ll take all of them!”

  Heather laughed.

  Cracker Jack pointed and led the way up the small knoll to his wife’s grave. There was a wedding photo of the two of them on the headstone.

  “She’s been gone a long time.”

  Cracker Jack nodded. “Bet you didn’t know I had black hair like that.”

  “No.” She didn’t, and smiled. His youthful hair was just as wild and crazy.

  “God, I miss her. She and I were best friends. Though she could give me hell on occasion. Then again, I gave her plenty of reason. But you know what…?”

  Heather expected him to say the old proverbial, “We never went to bed angry at one another.” But that’s not what he said at all.

  “I never for one moment, even in a fit of anger, forgot why I married her. She was the love of my life.” When he sighed and bowed his head, Heather turned to walk back to the trolley.

  “Wait a minute,” Cracker Jack said. “I was just about to introduce you as my girlfriend. You leave and she’ll never believe me.”

  Heather smiled and left him alone anyway. She imagined even Cracker Jack needed a private, serious moment now and then. The couple from across the way were now standing next to the trolley at a respectful distance from the gravesite.

  “She would often come on his show,” the woman said. “I liked that.”

  The man nodded. “I can’t remember her name.”

  “Louise,” Heather said. All three looked at Cracker Jack as he leaned down and wiped grass clippings off the headstone. He patted it then and stood tall.

  “I’ll forever love you,” he said, into the soft breeze. “Watch for me. I won’t be long.”

  Heather assumed from the smile on his face as walked back down the knoll toward them that he must have said something funny, something typical of the joy in his heart, his love of life. There were no tears in his eyes. No despair.

  He shook the couple’s hands and suggested they might want to go for a trolley ride.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said.

  “Come on,” the man insisted. “Look, the step’s nice and low.”

  “Your chariot awaits,” Cracker Jack said.

  The woman looked at the three of them and giggled. Yes, giggled. “Oh, all right.”

  When they were all aboard, Cracker Jack rang the bell. “And we’re off.”

  Seated behind him, when Heather put her hand on his shoulder, he turned. The man had his arm around his wife and both were waving as they passed their daughter’s and granddaughter’s graves. The two were smiling, recalling good times, and not the bad. They were happy.

  ~ * ~

  Even though Cindy and Marvin’s brand new home was hardly dirty, Liz and Glenda dusted the entire house and cleaned the bathrooms anyway. They took the throw rugs outside and shook them. They made up two vases of fresh-cut flowers, one for the living room, one for the dining room table, and swept the front porch. When they were all done, they opened the windows to air the house out.

  Liz glanced at her watch. Estimated time of arrival, one hour and ten minutes, “Give or take a few according to my GPS,” Cindy had said. It hadn’t been all that long since Cindy and Marvin were here last, but it seemed an eternity to Liz. Checking the house a final time for anything out of order, Liz gazed into the spare bedroom which would hopefully someday be a nursery. She wished she’d lived closer when D.R. and Maeve were babies.

  “I’m going to go wash up,” Glenda said.

  “All right, we’ll see you there.” Dinner was at Glenda and George’s this evening. The food was prepared and had already been taken over to their house. As soon as Cindy and Marvin arrived, they would all sit down to eat. She wished Dawn could be here. She hoped Randy was home on time.

  “Liz! Come see!” Glenda shouted.

  Expecting to see Cracker Jack’s trolley loaded with several of the old-timers making the rounds again, Liz walked out onto the porch. What she was seeing didn’t quite register for a second. Cindy’s car, followed by Marvin’s, were turning into the driveway. Already? When she heard a noise by the garage, she jumped and then laughed. One of them had activated the garage door opener. Apparently everyone knew they were due any minute, but her. They were all gathered.

  “Cindy didn’t want you to worry if they were late,” Señor said. “She knows how you are.”

  As Cindy pulled into the garage and Marvin right next to her, Liz hurried down the steps to greet them. Her little girl had come home. She was home.

  ~ * ~

  Linda
spent the best part of the afternoon rethinking her decision to agree to a second date with the “count-tent” as Maria called him. He seemed nice enough, but even his name, Harvey, didn’t seem to fit into her life. Harvey?

  “I was named after my father,” he’d told her.

  That made sense, an old man named Harvey, but not someone his age, mid-thirties. She wondered if he ever thought about changing his name. It seemed so old- fashioned, not to mention his suggesting they go to dinner and a movie. Who does that anymore - let alone insist he pick her up at her house so she wouldn’t have to drive home alone at night?

  She imagined calling Dawn for advice. “Oh yeah, I can see it all now. Dawn, I know you’re over there in hell on earth trying to find out something about Aunt Maeve, but what do you think about a guy named Harvey who wants to take me out for dinner and a movie? What do you think I should do? Should I go?” She shook her head.

  “Is he nice?” she imagined Dawn replying.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you feel comfortable around him?”

  “A little. Yeah. I don’t know what to say when I’m around him, but….”

  “Just be yourself.”

  “Myself? That’s a good one. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Just yesterday I had an avocado salad for lunch. I never liked avocado before.”

  Fitzgerald came out of his office and looked at her. “You talkin’ to me?”

  Linda laughed at his ridiculously poor Robert De Niro impression. It wasn’t even close. “No, I’m talking to myself.”

  “Well, why don’t you sing a song next time. That way we won’t all think you’re losing your marbles.”

  One of the other Stewards, Hank, called out from the room. “We already know she’s lost her marbles. Don’t give her any false hope!”

  Linda laughed. “I’m allowed to think out loud!”

  “Not unless you’re making sense!” Hank replied.