Promises to Keep

by Shirley Hailstock

  “I didn’t say that. Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

  Anger flared inside McKenna. “Why did you come, Parker? If you knew this was all a lie in my mind, why are you here? You can’t want to go on. You never did. Why would you, now that I’ve acknowledged the truth? I guess we should just call it a day and return home.”

  “I said I wasn’t going to kiss you. And I’m not. But you need to be kissed, thoroughly.”

  “Not by you. Which proves you don’t know everything, Parker.”

  McKenna lobbed the words at him, but wondered if he could tell how her chest heaved up and down as she drew breath. Or if he shared her thought that they were standing too close to one another, that more distance would be better.

  “I only want to say that this has become something you want to do, McKenna, and we’ve agreed to see it through to the end. I have no problem keeping my end of the deal. And I’ve never had the idea that you wanted to end it. But things have changed. We can’t pretend they haven’t.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  “Do you want to complete the trip?”

  “I like what we’re doing. I enjoyed helping Joanna and I like Sherry, although I don’t know her well.”

  “And I like taking jobs I usually wouldn’t think of doing. I’ve never had to do that. Even though you forced me into it, I’m glad to be here.”

  McKenna watched the way he looked at her. She knew it would not be the same from now on. The two of them had crossed a threshold. She wouldn’t allow it to go any further, but they couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened.

  “We go on,” she said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BOTH MCKENNA AND PARKER stepped out of their rooms at the same time. McKenna looked down the long colonnade. Parker lifted his hand and waved. McKenna let a breath out. She was glad they were still friends, she thought. She didn’t like arguing with him.

  She sure did like kissing him; it hadn’t been all one-sided. She had responded to it, to him. But she couldn’t let it happen again. They met at the car with a smile.

  “I’ll drive,” he said and McKenna immediately handed him the key.

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  “I did,” she answered honestly. “Have to admit, I’m used to you being in the room. It felt a bit weird without you. But I settled down and didn’t wake up until the clock alarm went off. How about you?”

  “I missed you, too,” he said.

  An economy of words, McKenna noticed. They drove the rest of the way in silence and went right to work. As usual the restaurant was busy. They barely had time for anything until after lunch.

  While Parker cleaned the grill and Sherry cleared the last of the patrons’ dishes away, McKenna returned from the pantry with an idea.

  “Sherry, do you mind if I make something to add to the menu tonight?” McKenna asked.

  “You cook, too?” Sherry questioned, adding the dishes to the nearly full dishwasher.

  “I’m not a gourmet, but for good ole plain food I can hold my own.”

  “What have you got in mind?” She flipped the switch on the machine and the sound of water immediately filled the space.

  Sherry headed back to the dining room. McKenna followed.

  “Corn pudding and banana bread,” she said. “We can pair the corn pudding with one of the meats, say the lamb chops, and call it a special. The customer will get the banana bread as a dessert.”

  “It sounds good, but have you ever cooked for a hundred people?”

  “I’ve cooked for twenty on Thanksgiving, and I know how to multiply a recipe. Some recipes can only be done in batches, but these are not that kind. It’ll work. And we can sell the dinner at a special price.”

  “I’m game. Do we have all the ingredients you need?”

  “I checked. We have everything, including some overripe bananas.”

  “I was going to throw those out.”

  “Now we have a use for them.”

  “If this goes well, you should get credit for it.”

  “It’s a family recipe. I expect it to go well, but if it doesn’t, I’ll take the heat.”

  “If it doesn’t go well, we’ll just chalk it up to experience,” Sherry said. “I’ve had my share of disasters.” She paused and adjusted her apron. “Are you going to need help?”

  “I know you have to get the other dishes ready. Parker will help me.” She wasn’t completely sure how he’d feel about her having volunteered him. “And we’ll fill in to help where you need us. Prep time is short, especially with the equipment you have. But we’ll manage.” McKenna wanted to assure Parker that things between them were back on solid footing. Working together would let him know she held no hard feelings from their argument yesterday.

  “Did I hear my name?” Parker said from the kitchen doorway.

  “You and I are going to make something special for the dinner crowd,” McKenna told him.

  “You’ll need to make extra. Tonight is Friday and we always get truckers from the highway popping in for a meal,” Sherry said.

  Within minutes McKenna had given Parker instructions on what to do to make the bread. He took direction well and went to work like a pro. McKenna started on the corn pudding. Each of them used a section of the large center counter. Sherry kept looking over at what the two of them were doing. McKenna wondered if Sherry was nervous and if she was wasting the woman’s costly inventory.

  “Where’d you learn to cook, Parker?” Sherry asked. “You took to that grill yesterday as if you’d been at it for years and now this, with almost no instruction. McKenna hasn’t had to say another word.”

  “I learned out of necessity,” he said. “As a kid, I hung around the kitchen a lot. Then in college I was a short-order cook at a pancake house.”

  “Really?” McKenna was shocked.

  He smiled. “Another thing you didn’t know about me.” He winked at her. “I paid for a lot of my misspent youth on the salary of a cook.”

  “Did you think of going into the business, becoming a chef?” Sherry asked.

  Parker shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good home-cooked meal. But I don’t want cooking to comprise my entire day, every day.”

  “So, what comprises most of your day?” Sherry asked.

  Parker peeled and broke bananas, adding them to the industrial-size mixing bowl. “I teach economics at a university.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you took to the cash register like it was an extension of your hands.”

  “Where are the loaf pans?” he asked.

  “Bottom shelf, over there.”

  Sherry indicated a stainless steel cabinet in the corner. Parker bent down and opened the double doors. Reaching inside, he found dozens of pans.

  “What does economics do for you that cooking doesn’t?” McKenna joined in.

  Parker stood up and stared through the kitchen toward the dining room windows. “Food doesn’t light up.”

  “Light up?” Sherry stopped seasoning the lamb chops that would go with the corn pudding and both women stared at the only man in the room.

  He turned to them. “You both know what I’m talking about. It’s when the lightbulb goes on. When one of my students finally understands a concept that has eluded him or her, it’s like seeing a light turn on. One day all the pieces fall into place and you suddenly understand a concept or an equation and then wonder why you ever thought it was so difficult. Remember when you learned your times tables? At first it was just memorize it, but later you saw the logic of how to figure it out.”

  Both women smiled. “For me it was long division,” Sherry said.

  Parker moved back to his work station and turned off the mixer. The whine of the motor wound down, leaving the kitchen with only the hum
of the restaurant-size refrigerator.

  “It happens spontaneously,” he went on. “The lightbulb flashes and words tumble out of their mouths. When I see it, when I hear it, I know I’ve reached into the mind of someone and opened a door. It’s exhilarating. You can’t get that from cooking.”

  “Okay,” McKenna said, thinking of a baker designing a cake and practicing getting all the roses in icing to look alike. She watched him complete the recipe she’d given him and begin to pour the batter into the loaf pans.

  “Obviously, there’s a lot more to you, Parker, than meets the eye,” Sherry commented. “When I hired you two, I was desperate, but you’re turning out to be a godsend.”

  “What about you, Sherry?” McKenna asked. “How’d you become a restaurant owner?”

  “Oh, that’s a long story.”

  “We’ve got time before the dinner crowd arrives.” Parker put the first batch of banana bread in the oven. Then he opened the refrigerator, got three bottles of water and handed them out. Sherry had explained the importance of remaining hydrated while they worked.

  “Do you think this will be too much?” He’d found thirty loaf pans and filled them with batter. Half of them were in the oven.

  “They freeze well, if they aren’t all used tonight,” McKenna jumped in.

  “Thirty should be enough to begin with,” Sherry agreed. “If these new recipes really take off, you know I’m going to be up the creek when you two leave.”

  “I’ll give you the recipes,” McKenna said. “You can bake the bread at night and stockpile it and the pudding in the freezer.”

  Parker started cleaning the equipment he’d used.

  “I was a divorced mother of two girls, ages seven and nine,” Sherry told them. “My husband left me and took everything we had. The bank foreclosed on the house and the state was threatening to take my kids.”

  “Oh, no.” McKenna reacted with a jolt.

  Sherry gave her a reassuring smile. “It worked out,” she assured McKenna before going on with the story. “I had an aunt who lived here in a small house. She was ailing and needed someone to care for her. I agreed to do it so we’d have someplace to live, but she wasn’t rich, so we had to have an income.”

  Sherry stared at her hands holding the bottle of water. McKenna knew she was looking into the past.

  “I started working the lunch shift and preparing food for the dinner menu. I did it in my aunt’s kitchen and brought it over in time for the rush hour. My aunt died and left us the house. I worked full time after that and eventually the owner wanted to retire. He offered to sell the restaurant to me. I could barely afford shoes for my girls, so I couldn’t pay for it. But he made me a deal where he held the mortgage. I never missed a payment. When he died three years later, his will cancelled the debt, leaving me the business free and clear. I’ve maintained it ever since.”

  “You used economics in doing that,” Parker said, replacing the bowl on the mixer. “And you do it every day when determining what supplies you need and how much food to get ready for each meal to keep waste at a minimum.”

  Sherry raised her arms and shouted, “I’m an economist. Who knew?”

  They all laughed.

  McKenna’s corn pudding went in the oven as the first batch of bread came out. An hour later everything was ready.

  The bell over the door jingled as the first diner appeared.

  “Sherry, I don’t know what you got going back there, but I’ll take two helpings,” someone shouted.

  Sherry grinned. “That’s Mike. Drives an 18-wheeler from St. Louis to Phoenix. Always drops in for a meal. I think your menu item is going to be a hit.” Sherry slipped out of the kitchen to take Mike’s order.

  McKenna turned to Parker. “Since you’re good at writing on blackboards, why don’t you list the specials for tonight?”

  * * *

  INSTEAD OF BEING tired after the long day, McKenna was exhilarated. Parker was like a giant puzzle to her. As their trip had progressed, he’d become more and more enigmatic, but between last night and today, she’d learned a lot about him and felt as if she understood him better. And she liked him better, too.

  After the last dinner guest left and the cleaning was completed, Sherry brought decaf coffee to one of the tables and the three of them sat down for a few moments of calm. The night had been hectic. The diner had quickly filled with patrons; three times before closing there must have been a turnover of customers. McKenna had needed help on the floor. Parker pitched in and did what he could. McKenna hadn’t counted her tips, but she was sure tonight was a career high for her in the restaurant trade.

  “Sorry, there’s no banana bread to go with the coffee,” Sherry said.

  “I should have made more. We’ll do it for tomorrow.” Parker looked at McKenna as he said it.

  She nodded.

  “Where’d you say that recipe came from?” Sherry asked.

  “It’s been in my family for a long time. My mother gave it to me in one of her cookbooks,” McKenna told her. “I tried it one night when I was in high school and it turned out well. I make it every year, usually around Christmastime. But tonight I thought it might be good for business.”

  “You were right there.” Sherry confirmed. “People bought entire loaves to take with them. And who thought they’d pay that much for one loaf of bread?”

  They both looked at Parker.

  “Our economist,” McKenna said.

  “It was worth it,” Parker added. “First it tasted fantastic and it was a perfect illustration of the law of supply and demand.”

  “We had demand,” Sherry said. “We even took orders.”

  McKenna sipped her coffee.

  “The corn pudding was a hit, too,” Sherry went on. “I’ve had it before, but it never tasted like yours.”

  “We can thank my grandmother.” McKenna bowed her head.

  “You know what? You should consider selling other items,” Parker suggested, still in his capacity as an economist.

  “What do you mean?” Sherry asked.

  “Offering baked goods, desserts, breads that people can order. Maybe adding catering to your services.”

  “Hold on, professor,” Sherry said, her hand telling him to back off. “I’m having serious personnel problems. No way could I add baked goods for order and catering. When would I sleep?”

  “And I think you should put up a billboard on the highway, enticing people to dine here.” Parker continued as if Sherry hadn’t said anything. “The food is good and they get a little treat with the special. Who knows, in time you could have more than one restaurant.”

  “Does he often go on like this?” Sherry directed her question to McKenna.

  “He hasn’t until now. I guess business is one of his hot buttons.”

  Parker’s eyes flashed at McKenna and she wanted to pull the words back as soon as they were out. She turned back to Sherry.

  “It’s not a bad idea he’s got,” McKenna told her. “Eventually, you could set up a bakery section.” McKenna scanned the floor plan. “You could even have a revolving stand by the door so people see the baked goods when they come in. If you knocked out that wall.” She indicated the end of the dining room. “You could build a room and put the display cases there.”

  Parker nodded as if the decision had already been made.

  “During holidays, proms, birthdays, parties, you could supply the baked goods. Is there already a bakery in town?” Parker asked.

  Sherry shook her head, looking as if the suggestions were one step too far. “You know you two could be dangerous.”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be fun?” McKenna said.

  * * *

  RETURNING TO THE motel after closing the restaurant was more comfortable between them than it had been when they
’d left it early this morning, Parker thought. McKenna’s idea of making recipes for the daily special helped. He might be an economist, but he didn’t miss her subtle intentions. She was breaking the ice between them. At least, she was melting the last pieces of it by working with him and giving him credit for the most talked about meal the restaurant had had in years.

  He pulled the car into a parking space right outside her room and they got out. As they stepped onto the walkway, his room seemed miles from hers.

  “I guess this is good night,” McKenna said. She’d made no attempt to find her key or to enter her room.

  “It was a good day,” Parker said.

  “I liked your ideas about expanding the restaurant. It reminded me of how the auto business expanded.”

  “Sherry would take in a lot, but I understand her reluctance. She’s only one person.”

  “More economic facts?” McKenna smiled.

  “I can’t help it. It’s how my mind works.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m getting used to how your mind works.”

  He laughed. “That’s great, because I have no idea how yours works.”

  McKenna smiled as if his comment was a compliment. “It works much like yours. We all have a little economist in us.”

  “And a little adventurer.”

  He watched the smile spread across her face. She was an adventurer, traversing her own jungle in pursuit of a dream. After a moment, the silence stretched. “I guess this is good night,” Parker said.

  He watched as she turned to her door. He also moved toward the door and so they collided with each other. He caught her at the waist and steadied her. She looked up at him. Despite the darkness, the light above the door shone clearly into her eyes. He saw concern mixed with something unreadable, but it was soft and warm.

  No doubt she thought he’d forgotten that they no longer shared the same space. His room was the width of the building away from hers.

  “I thought I’d check your room before leaving,” Parker said.

  McKenna moved back. She opened her purse and retrieved the plastic keycard. Parker took it and preceded her into the room. He was already familiar with it.