Riversong

by Hardwick, Tess

  With his ring finger, Mike moved the financial projections in little circles on the table. He stared at the board. Lee could see the machinations of his brain, calculating and surmising but was uncertain of his conclusion. He crossed his left foot over his knee and gripped the top of his boot with his right hand. “Your work is impressive. You've got class little lady, but it might be too fancy for the folks here.”

  “I've done the research and the demographic supports the idea. Think about it, rich retirees, professionals, special occasion customers, and tourists for the dining room. A young local crowd for the bar.” Lee sat down across from him and pointed at one of the lines on the spreadsheet. “All we need is some good press, a product that delivers and people will flood in here. There's nothing else like this. Give them something they didn't even know they wanted. That's business.”

  He tipped back in his chair. “I don't know about the artsy-fartsy stuff.”

  “The revolving art attracts a certain clientele. It's all part of the package. I'm right about this.” She raised her eyebrows in a tease. “Just ‘cause you don't go for that kind of thing.”

  “I'm more a golf and fishing guy myself.” He smiled and tipped back in his chair. “You can't charge big city prices. Is that factored in?”

  “Of course.”

  He picked up the spreadsheet again. “This is a hell of a lot of money you want from me.” He put down the paper, crossing his arms and scrutinizing her. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

  “I know business. It's black and white, dollars and cents, do this, do that, this happens. It's the other stuff in life I have trouble with.”

  He glanced at the door of the kitchen as if Zac were there. “Yeah. Me too.”

  Lee took a deep breath. “I'll open the place for you and help you determine who you want to run it after I'm gone.”

  His eyes were still on the kitchen door. “Guess it can't be Zac.”

  “I would highly recommend you find someone else.”

  He glanced out the front window for a moment and sighed. “This consultant thing, it lacks commitment.”

  She waved her hand as if to ward off evil spirits. “I can't stay here. I'm fixing up the house and I'll be gone as quick as I can sell it.”

  “You have a place to go?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Tell you what, you commit to this for real. Stay in town for awhile, come work for me as the manager of this place and I'll fund the whole idea hook line and sinker.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table, calculating numbers in her head – the house sale, plus a salary, plus a bonus if they were profitable after a year. It might be enough to pay off DeAngelo. She wrote a number on a scrap of paper and pushed it over to him. “If I were to commit, I need this salary and a lump sum bonus at the end of twelve months if we make the profits I projected in my spreadsheet.”

  He slapped his hand on the table and grinned. “Shoot, you're a fast thinker.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming. “But so am I. I agree to the salary but not the lump sum. I'll split the profits with you 50/50 but you have to come on as a partner.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because if you own part of something, you'll work harder. That's just human nature.”

  She fluffed the front of her blouse to cool her damp torso. “I'm pregnant.”

  He raised his eyebrows and stared at her for a moment. “Well, I had no idea. Congratulations.”

  “I didn't know until after my husband died.” She paused and took a breath. “My husband committed suicide over a bad business deal. You still want me as a partner?” She tried to sound light hearted but the words came out a croak.

  He shrugged, smiling at her. “Call it an old man's eccentricities, but I have a feeling about you. You're a scrapper and a fighter. I want a girl like that on my team.”

  “I can't pay the doctor bills for this baby with what I'm making now. I want health insurance for me and everyone on the staff. Starbucks style.”

  “Starbucks style?”

  “Benefits for part-time workers. Anyone over 20 hours, we kick in for a portion.”

  “Done,” he said.

  “You've got yourself a deal.” She reached to shake his hand but he moved around the table and squeezed her in a bear hug. He pulled back and looked in her eyes. “You know, a baby's a blessing no matter when they arrive.” He let go of her, glancing at his watch. “I'll talk to my attorney and get something formal put together.”

  Lee clasped her hands together, smiling. “What have I done?”

  Mike re-tucked his dress shirt into his jeans. “Commitment. Highly underrated these days.”

  “Can you ask Zac to clear his stuff out of the office?” she said. “It's a bit awkward for me to talk to him about it.”

  “That's fair.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a huge set of keys, slipping two from the ring. “Here's the keys. One for the back door and one for the office.” He collected his papers and put on his hat. “Only one thing. Now we're partners, you've got to find something legit for Zac to do.”

  After Mike left she walked back to the manager's office, using her key to open the door. It was in its usual state of disarray. She looked through the piles of papers on the desk until she found the fairy diary with Zac's notes. She dropped it in her purse and crossed the street to Ray's Accounting and Taxes. Ray was in his usual place at the computer, smiling when he saw her. She sat in the visitor's chair and told him her plans for the restaurant. “Wanted to thank you for introducing me to him.”

  “Oh, that was my pleasure,” he said.

  “We'll continue to need your help with the books and taxes once we're open for business.”

  He smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “That'd be just super.”

  “Maybe we'll have some profit to report by the end of the year.”

  “I believe you will, Lee. I surely do.”

  She reached for her bag. “Actually, I came by to ask a favor. Could I use your copy machine?”

  “Why sure.”

  She pulled the fairy diary out of her purse. “Just a little tidying up to do before I take over Zac's office.”

  “Help yourself.” He pointed to the copy machine in the corner. “Then you have to let me buy you a Blizzard at Dairy Queen to celebrate. I hear they have a new flavor.”

  “Perfect. I'm starving.” She smiled and put her hand on her stomach, thinking she'd tell Ray about the baby over their Blizzards.

  Later that day, Lee and Annie sat in the empty restaurant. The business plan spilled out of Lee in a rush of words. Annie's eyes were glassy. “You want me?”

  “What do you think?” said Lee. “You up for it?”

  “I could merge it with the Italian tradition of three courses, only with a Northwest flavor.” Annie's eyes misted. “What do I have to do to get this job?”

  “I want you to cook a full meal for me at my house Monday night. If it tastes the way I think it will, it's all yours.”

  Alder bounced up and down in his chair. “She's the best cook in the whole world.”

  Lee put her hand on Alder's head. “You come too. I'll invite my friend Ellen.”

  Alder, grinning, gave Lee a paper. “I made the baby a picture.” He pointed at the crude drawing. “See, there's me and there's the baby. She's pink ‘cause she's gonna be a girl.”

  “We'll see you Monday.” Annie hugged her. Lee resisted the urge to rest her head on her soft, maternal shoulder.

  Twenty minutes later, still at the restaurant, Lee plugged her timeline into the project planning tool on her laptop. She'd just completed it when Tommy walked through the door. He pointed towards the parking lot at the back of the restaurant. “There're some shady characters out back.”

  “You recognize any of them?”

  “Look like local lowlifes to me.” He sat on one of the empty tables swinging his legs, a vein protruding from his bulging calf muscle. “You don't work after
dark do you?”

  “Don't worry about it.”

  His voice was tender. “But I do.” He crossed his arms and stared at her for a moment. She avoided his eyes by looking out the window, feeling nervous to be alone with him. “I met with Mike this afternoon. We agreed on a plan for this place.”

  “Can I hear too?”

  She smiled and looked at him. He seemed genuinely interested and it gave them something to talk about. Less chance for him to ask her personal questions, she thought. She gave him the entire presentation and he listened all the way through without comment.

  “What do you say? Want to be our main band?”

  He smiled and clapped his hands together, twice like it was time to belt out a song right then and there. “I'd be honored. I guess Mike was right about you.” He crossed his feet and arms, his voice teasing. “This mean you're going to stick around for awhile?”

  Lee looked down at her computer, playing with the mouse. “Not necessarily.” She hooked her ankles under the chair and told herself to breathe.

  Strolling over to where she was, he put his elbows on the table. He looked over the top of her laptop. “Why do you hate it here so much?”

  His gaze unsettled her. “I don't.” Her voice quivered and she tried to stop the prickly sensation behind her eyes by pressing her fingertips into them. “I just worked so hard to have a different kind of life. Away from here. Away from my mother and all the-”. She paused and took in a deep breath. “Away from all the memories. Being here makes me feel like the little girl who was sad all the time. It's hard to explain.”

  “Are the memories still that strong?”

  “I don't know. Sometimes. I've been remembering the good things too, though. I forgot how much I loved the air here. And the stars at night.”

  “You could replace all those bad memories with good ones, if you gave it a chance.” He shrugged and grinned. “Gave me a chance, for example.” His eyes danced, like he was teasing, but she knew it was a serious question.

  She could feel hot splotchy red spots on her neck, and covered them with her hand. “Why do you love it here so much?”

  His eyes were soft. “I love who I feel like when I'm here. The first time I drove through, and this was fifteen years ago, I thought, someday I'll come back here and live. It felt like home.”

  “I'd hate to see where else you've lived if this was your first choice.”

  He smiled and picked up her cell phone. “You're cute when you're grouchy. May I put my number in here in case you ever need me to come pick you up?”

  “In the fire truck?”

  He laughed and punched some keys on her phone. “When I was in fifth grade I loved a redhead named Minnie Stewart. She was sassy and had freckles too.” He crossed his arms and leaned on the edge of the table. “But then her brother called me a Spic and that ended our ill-fated love affair.”

  “A name calling is all it took to change your mind?”

  He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “Depends on the girl.”

  “I'm sure.”

  “Actually, I beat the crap out of him and she dumped me.”

  “Is that how you got the scar?”

  He covered the scar with his hand. “No, I got this from my brother when I tried to flush his cocaine down the toilet.”

  “Your brother cut you?”

  “Don't get between an addict and their drug of choice.” He stepped towards the door. “It's not safe for you to be here alone after dark. I'll be back in an hour to walk you to your car.” Before she could protest, he was gone, the door closing behind him so quickly that she wondered if she imagined he was ever there.

  There was a warm breeze an hour later when Tommy walked her to her car, holding the door while she scooted behind the wheel. She turned the key but nothing happened. The battery must be dead. She looked at Tommy before fingering the car light knob. “Crap, I left the lights on.”

  Tommy grinned and put his hand on the back of her seat. “See, this is why you need me around.”

  She glanced at him and then back at the blank dashboard. “Do you have jumper cables?”

  “I have some at home, in my garage.”

  “Well, you might want to keep those in your car if you've taken it upon yourself to be my rescuer.”

  “How is it that you're so damned cute even when you're being a pain in the ass?”

  She laughed in spite of herself and threw up her hands. “I don't suppose you'd give me a lift home?”

  He gave her his hand, helping her out of the van. “I thought you'd never ask.”

  She and Tommy walked up the new steps of her porch. The handyman, in the course of a week, had torn out the charred wood and replaced it with oak slabs. The porch was not yet stained, still smelling of fresh, newly shaved and cut wood. Joshua's handiwork was impressive. From her kitchen window, she had watched him as he stood the wood upright alongside the house and then run his fingers along the surface of the boards like they were a woman's leg, seeming to look for imperfections. She asked him about it later and he said he liked the pieces to fit closely together without a lot of sanding and cutting. When it was finished the boards fit so snugly together that it looked like one slab, except for the fine lines that proved they were once separate boards.

  Tommy was next to her at the door. She could smell his lime aftershave and for a second wished she could just back up a half a foot and melt into him. But instead she unlocked the door and reached inside for the light switch. “This is what I'm talking about,” said Tommy. “You need a porch light out here.”

  “Have you always been this bossy?” She stepped into the light of the foyer.

  He ran his hand through his hair, peering behind her into her house. “First off, yes. Second, it's clear that you don't understand the extent of Zac's business, nor do you take proper care to protect yourself. Leaving your car lights on, no porch light. Need I say more? These tweakers are unpredictable. I wouldn't put it past one of them to follow you home in some paranoid rampage.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?”

  He shook his head. “No, I'm sorry. I'm compelled to look after you. I can't control myself.”

  “I'm fine, plus, Joshua, my handyman, is installing the light tomorrow. Have you forgotten I managed to burn down the porch?”

  “How could I forget that?” Something unsaid hung there for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders and turned to go. “You call me tomorrow and I'll take you to your car, get it jumped for you.”

  It was late, past eight and she was hungry. Not knowing what possessed her, she put her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. “You want to come in, have something to eat?”

  He looked surprised, raised his eyebrows. “You're inviting me to stay?”

  “It was nice of you to pick me up. Least I could do is feed you. Unless you've eaten already?”

  “I have, but I'm always hungry.”

  “I'm not much of a cook, but Ellen leaves me mystery dishes in the fridge.”

  He followed her into the house and she felt him behind her all the way to the kitchen as if they were tethered by an electrical current. She switched on the light in the small kitchen. “The kitchen is next on Joshua's list, then the floors, then painting,” she said. “Have a seat. I'll see what I have in here.” She opened the refrigerator and sure enough Ellen had left a plastic container labeled “Chicken Stew.” Lee put the old sauce pan on the largest burner. Tommy sat at the table, watching her. “You want something to drink?” she asked him. “Joshua leaves beers in the fridge if you want one. I don't know exactly why he has to have them at my house but his work is beautiful and his rates so inexpensive I figured it was a small thing to ask.” She stopped, feeling like she was rambling and sighed.

  “What's wrong,” he asked her, propping his cheek in the palm of his hand.

  “I don't know. You make me nervous, for some reason.”

  “You don't know why?”

  “Do you?” she asked, fiddling with the
metal hanger on the end of the pot's rubber handle.

  “What do you think?”

  She laughed and turned down the heat on the stew. “I'm the one asking the questions here.”

  He grinned and held up his hands as if to shield himself. “I've got this John Hiatt song called ‘Stood Up’running through my head. Ever heard it?”

  “I don't think so.”

  He sang, “I guess she never understood what she could do, With all her flaming red hair, But I could not stand the heat in her kitchen, So, Jack, I got out of there”.

  She felt herself go hot, embarrassed and turned back to the stove.

  He went to her. “I'm sorry. I've made you uncomfortable.” His voice was low, near her ear.

  The stew made a popping sound and Lee stirred it, the glaze over the top having softened. The room filled with the smell of rosemary, onions and roasted chicken. He was still behind her and she could almost feel what it would be like to have his arms encircle her waist, to feel his hands on her thighs. “Looks great,” he said. She felt his breath at the top of her head. She scooted away from him and opened the refrigerator door. She found a beer in the door called “Rogue” in a brown bottle with nice artwork on the label. “You like this?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” He kept his eyes on her as he tilted the beer into his mouth.

  Lee's mouth filled with saliva and she swallowed, chastising herself for thinking about the way his lips gripped the opening of the beer bottle. She touched a finger to her temple thinking she needed to get serious control of herself before she did something stupid.

  She found two bowls and filled them with stew. They sat at the table and began to eat. The stew had rounds of tender carrots, pearl onions, red baby potatoes and shredded chicken that tasted like it had been roasted over a wood burning flame, accompanied by a hint of rosemary and fresh thyme. “This food Ellen brings, it reminds me of this restaurant in Seattle called the Five Spot - kind of down home cooking with a flair. I've started to imagine Ellen's house actually is the kitchen at the Five Spot. Something about her is bigger than life. She's so full of energy and ideas, especially when you consider she's in her 70's.”