Games We Play

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Games We Play Page 10

by Ruthie Robinson


  “The owner of the Coopersville Brewpub, the one we thought was stealing from Aunt Myra.”

  “Dang, Kendall, nothing like going to the source. Well, how was it?” Lark asked.

  Kendall laughed. Leave it up to Lark to ask that question.

  “It was good, better than good…Hell, I didn’t even know it could be that good.”

  “See, told you to leave those professor and business types you think are so smart alone. So what’s the problem?”

  “We met tonight, to…you know…again, and he accused me of being in town to steal from Aunt Myra.”

  “Does he know her well?”

  “Yes. He said that Myra had spoken to her closest friends about me, that she’d asked them to make sure I didn’t take advantage of her.”

  “It sounds like Aunt Myra has some really good friends.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Yeah, okay, sorry. Want me to come up there and kick his ass for you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, so is that what has you so upset? I mean, if you were in his position or Aunt Myra’s, for that matter, you would probably feel the same way. No one has been to see her in what, twenty years? We talked about it ourselves before you left. That’s why we agreed that the best course would be for you to lay all your cards out on the table, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “You think she believed you?”

  “I did. But after listening to him tonight, maybe not,” Kendall said.

  “Do you think he was lying?”

  “No, but why would he say those things to me, about me, if Aunt Myra believes what I said?”

  “I don’t know, maybe she hasn’t had a chance to call off her dogs yet.”

  “You’re supposed to be on my side,” Kendall said.

  “No. That’s now why you called me,” Lark said.

  “You’re right.”

  “So, what else?”

  “What do you mean, what else?”

  “I can tell something else is bothering you.”

  “He called me a gold digger,” she said.

  “Ah…I see,” Lark said. That was the thing; both of them considered it a fate worse than death to be lumped into the same category as their mother.

  “I am not a gold digger.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Sometimes I’d give anything to have a different mother,” she said.

  “Never going to happen,” Lark said after being quiet for a few minutes. “If he’s worth anything, he’ll figure that out too. If you want to have some more sex with him, that is. I can’t believe it, my older, bordering-on-dull professor sister had a one-—no, make that two-—night stand.”

  Kendall laughed. “I’m not dull, and it was only one night. We didn’t get very far tonight,” she said, chuckling now. Leave it to Lark to cheer her up.

  “Good, huh?”

  “Amazing,” Kendall said.

  “Well, let’s play mad for a little while and see if he apologizes or tries to make it better. He might have believed you, and since you are going to be there for the summer and he is too, and he is amazing…” Lark said, mimicking her sister’s earlier use of the word, “…why not go all in? Really put Houston behind you. What do you have to lose?” Lark asked after their laughter simmered down.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “You’re not a gold digger, and you’re not in town to steal your aunt’s money, and time will only prove you right,” Lark said.

  “I know, and enough about me. How’s Dad?” Kendall asked, changing the subject.

  “Great. I love it here, and he’s a really good man.…I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive Vivian for this, for keeping us away from him for so long,” Lark said.

  “Give it time,” Kendall said.

  “It won’t matter. But guess what?” Lark asked. Maybe a change of subject was in order.

  “What?”

  “I think Dad is coming around to the idea of expanding what I’ve started to call the family business,” she said.

  Kendall sat back against the headboard of the bed, blew out a deep breath, and listened to her sister talk about all things cars. She sat there for a while, ’cause Lark could talk.

  #

  Saturday night

  Kendall looked over at the clock. It was near eleven. After her call to Lark, she’d spent some time with her aunt before going to bed, listening to the list of things that needed doing for the Memorial Day celebration over at the park on Monday. No way would she bring up LC’s—Barnabus’s—comments. She wasn’t up for any more doubt…and she was sick of explaining herself. She’d had enough. She’d taken to calling him Barnabus. It seemed like an appropriate name for a rich jerk.

  She had turned in at around ten thirty, and dozed off and on for the sum total of thirty minutes. She was awake now, and her mind had returned to Barnabus. She was torn between the memory of his hands skimming over her body, making her feel great, wanted, and the predicament that was her mother.

  The only way to view her mother in any favorable light was to conclude that Vivian had been born in the wrong era. She would have been better suited to the days of Jane Austen, a time when women of certain means had very few options in life without a man, when hunting for men with money was the norm, and was even looked upon favorably.

  She and Lark had somehow managed to escape most of her mother’s machinations. They’d been stuck with the learning how-to-catch-a-man part, but they’d totally avoided putting the learning to use in snagging said man.

  Kendall had become a professor instead, which was way too much education for Vivian’s taste. Men don’t like them dumb, but they don’t want them supersmart either.

  Kendall had chosen a passive-aggressive approach to living with her mother when she was younger. It helped that she’d spent her summers abroad. She’d stumbled upon that practice the first summer after high school, when the thought of hanging out with her mother for months on end was too much to bear. Her only regret was that she’d had to leave Lark behind. It had ended up working out for them both, though. Kendall had gone the way of academia, while Lark had kept busy and out of sight under the hood of some car.

  Kendall felt like an idiot for falling for LC, and so quickly too. Maybe she should just give up on men, throw in the towel on her hopes of marriage and family. She stood up and headed to the kitchen for something to drink—a belt of scotch was what she really wanted. She grabbed her tablet, hoping to read or play one of her games if all else failed. She quietly made her way to the kitchen.

  Not wanting to disturb her aunt, she chose a soda from the fridge instead of something warm like coffee or tea. Those were both moving-around-the-kitchen-and-making-noise activities. She made her way out to the back porch with her soda—stealthily, she hoped—and slid her butt into a chair. She opened her tablet and stared at it for a while, not really reading her book.

  “Kendall, is that you?” Aunt Myra asked, standing in the doorway in her gown and robe, all pink and shiny satin, covered with light blue roses.

  “It is,” she said.

  “You couldn’t sleep?”

  “No, ma’am. I could not.”

  “You want some tea? I make a mean tea when I can’t fall asleep,” her aunt said. She turned around and went back inside, not waiting for Kendall’s response. “Come in and join me,” Myra called from the kitchen a few seconds later. Kendall complied and made her way inside, choosing to stand next to the refrigerator instead of taking a seat at the table. She didn’t really feel up to talking. She watched as her aunt moved about the kitchen.

  “Is it that boy, that one you broke up with? Houston, I believe you said his name was. Is he the reason for your mood? I noticed how quiet you were earlier. Is everything alright?” she asked, turning the flame on underneath the teakettle, setting it to high.

  “Yes, that’s his name, but no, it’s not him. I’m f
ine.”

  “You are not fine. Something is bothering you. Are you having problems with your mother?”

  “No, it’s not Vivian…or maybe it is. I’ve never wanted to be like her. You do know that, right?” she asked.

  “I know,” Myra said, looking at her oddly.

  “She has always wanted me and Lark to follow in her footsteps, but we never did,” she said, watching as her aunt took two mugs from the cabinet and placed them on the counter, positioning two tea bags in each. She opened another cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of brandy.

  “My secret ingredient,” Myra said, holding the bottle out for Kendall to see. “If it’s not Houston, then who or what is it? Out with it. What has you so bothered that you can’t sleep?” she asked, looking at Kendall again. “How much sugar?”

  “One spoonful,” Kendall said, accepting the mug from her aunt. After her aunt poured brandy into her own mug first, she handed the bottle to Kendall, who poured some into hers.

  “Okay, I’m listening,” Myra said, staring at the teapot. “On second thought, let’s finish making our tea first, and then we can sit and you can tell me all about your troubles,” she said. They didn’t have long to wait; a few minutes later, the teakettle started in with its loud whistle. Myra filled both their mugs with water, stirred her tea with a spoon, which she gave to Kendall, who did the same.

  “I met someone today who accused me of being here to steal from you,” Kendall said, following her aunt across the kitchen to the table.

  “What did he look like?” Myra said, taking a seat, waiting until Kendall sat down beside her.

  Kendall took her first sip and coughed, and Myra smiled.

  “Owns the Brewpub,” Kendall said when she stopped coughing, not up for guessing games.

  “Cooper,” Myra said, watching Kendall. “I didn’t realize you’d gone to the pub.”

  “I haven’t,” Kendall said.

  “The golf course, then.”

  “Yes. I’m not here to steal from you or to try and prove you incompetent. I’m not. I don’t know how else to tell you that,” Kendall said, not attempting to hide her frustration and hurt.

  “I’m sorry that you were wounded by Cooper’s words, by whatever he said to you,” Myra said, covering one of Kendall’s hands with hers, as she studied Kendall in that way of hers, like she could see to the truth underneath. Kendall fought against the desire to squirm.

  “He can be really protective of those he considers family. So I apologize on his behalf. I know he didn’t mean any harm. I’ll speak to him first thing tomorrow. I’d call him tonight, but I hate to interrupt him at work. I know he only wanted to protect me.”

  “No, you don’t have to talk to him. I would really rather you didn’t,” Kendall said, taking another sip of her drink. She’d poured way too much brandy into her tea, and she was starting to feel the warmth of it seeping into her body.

  Her aunt nodded. “Well, I’m sorry nonetheless. I told you what I suspected about you and your mother before you came to town, so you shouldn’t be surprised about that. And of course I mentioned your visit to a few friends of mine. Cooper is one of those friends. Actually, he’s more son than friend to me. I spoke to him and the others because I was worried. I did it in confidence, knowing that they would make sure I was protected. We all look out for each other, and it was probably in that spirit that he spoke to you.”

  “I understand, really I do, as irritating and as hurtful as it was to listen to him. Still, I wish there was something I could do to show you that I’m not interested in anything other than getting to know you…that I’m interested in protecting you too.”

  “I believe you. From the beginning, I believed you. I’m a very good judge of character, and I also called your father earlier this evening, just to be safe. Between his assurances and what I’ve seen of you, I don’t have the slightest bit of doubt. I just haven’t had an opportunity to speak to Cooper. I’m sure he only thought to help me, and that it wasn’t anything personal.”

  “I understand,” Kendall said. “I don’t want him to think I was bothered by him, though.”

  “I won’t mention it then,” Myra said.

  “Thanks for listening,” Kendall said, yawning.

  “Think you might be able to get some sleep now?”

  “I do,” Kendall said, handing her mug off to her aunt. Myra placed both mugs in the sink, then watched as Kendall walked toward the kitchen door.

  “Goodnight,” Kendall said, from the doorway.

  “Goodnight,” Myra said.

  #

  Sunday afternoon

  “Coop here,” he said into his cell. It was Myra calling, sooner than he’d thought. The professor must have told on him already.

  “Hi, Cooper. Is this a good time?” Myra asked.

  “I’m sitting in my office, so yes, now works,” he said.

  “We made a mistake,” Myra said.

  “Your niece,” he said.

  “Of the many things I admire about you, number one on my list is your directness. You don’t beat around the bush. I hear you spoke to her,” Myra said.

  “Yes.”

  “She was really upset by it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I guess it couldn’t be helped.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said.

  “She was more upset than I would have thought, given who her mother is.”

  “Maybe she’s one of those women who are supersensitive,” he said.

  “What exactly did you say to her?”

  “I asked her reasons for visiting you. I told her that you weren’t alone here, and that she wouldn’t be able to harm you if that was her goal. It was the easiest and quickest way to have our answers.”

  “That was it? That was all you said to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “She was angry, and she said that she wasn’t here to harm you.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “I did,” Cooper said.

  “I did too. I should have called you sooner, but I hadn’t anticipated that you’d run into her so soon. My opinion of her changed almost immediately after we met. She was honest from the start. She just came right out and told me that she wasn’t here for my money. I am finding her to be very different from her mother.”

  “My heart goes out to her for having to live with my sister, who’s has kept her away from her father most of her life. Kendall told me that she and her sister have finally reunited with Butch. I called him too. He and I were good friends before his divorce from my sister. They are in contact with him now, and he thinks very highly of them both. They are not their mother’s daughters.”

  “I met her over at the Quarry on Friday evening. We played a few holes,” Cooper said.

  “That’s what she told me,” Myra said.

  “You asked us to have your back, Myra, and that’s all I was trying to do.”

  “I understand, I do. I’m just surprised by her reaction. She seems really hurt, which I wouldn’t expect, since it’s not the first time she’s been accused of being her mother’s daughter. She told me as much. I wondered if perhaps you might have said something else to her.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “I also accused her being here for me, here after my money,” he said.

  “Oh, Cooper,” she said, and he could hear the disappointment in her voice. “You have to let that go…move on,” she said.

  “Celeste is back,” he said.

  “Your ex-fiancée? That Celeste?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here in Coopersville?”

  “Yes. Saturday was her first day working at the pub. Luis hired her. Plus she’s renting one of my houses.”

  “Oh, Cooper,” Myra said. Both of them were quiet for a few minutes. “Well, I understand better now.”

  “It was an honest assumption given what I knew at the time. You said so yourself—like mother, like daug
hter—and her old boyfriend Houston showed up here yesterday, and he didn’t have anything nice to say about her either. All of that, along with some of her comments during our golf match…Well, Celeste was the icing on top, reminding me of the harm women can do. So maybe I was harder on her than I should have been. But you can see how I might have been predisposed to think the worst,” he said, deciding to stop explaining, ’cause it was starting to sound more like he’d been in the wrong.

  “Not all women are Celeste,” Myra said. She waited a few minutes for that to sink in. “Her ex-boyfriend was here? Houston, you said? When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon?”

  “He didn’t stop by the house,” Myra said.

  “He changed his mind after he arrived. He was here with a friend who talked him out of it. They had a few beers, then left.”

  “I understand, but I believe Kendall is very different from her mother and from Celeste.”

  “I do too.”

  “We have to fix this,” Myra said. He’d heard steel in her words before, and he knew she meant what she said. “We have to make this right. And you will start by apologizing. Can you come by the house this evening?”

  “I don’t know about this evening, Myra. We’re busy here with the Memorial Day crowd. I’ll stop by if I can squeeze in some time. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow at the park.”

  “I feel awful about this. She is such a nice young woman. You better fix this—do you understand me?” Myra said. He could hear the determination in her voice again.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  #

  Sunday evening

  “What are you going to do about Celeste?” Luis asked. Cooper had brought his friend up to date on the latest conversation he’d had with his new employee, who was off today, and his conversations with Kendall and Myra. He’d had enough of conversations.

  “Nothing. She’s here to do a job,” Cooper said. They were in the pub’s brewing room, tasting beer that had been brewed a week ago and was in one of the conditioning tanks. It was going to be kegged tomorrow.

  “So…have you missed her? Do you want her back?” Luis asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Not even a little bit?”

 

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