by Abigail Keam
“I think he wants more than that. I think he wants a commitment of some kind.”
“Wow, a commitment? How is that so terrible? Most men hightail it in the opposite direction at the mere mention of the word. You’ve got one who thinks you are hot and wants to see where dating will lead. I bleed for you, Mary.”
Mary playfully nudged Lillian with her hip and they both giggled while watching a pod of dolphins swim through a path cast by the moon’s light reflecting upon the ocean.
Lillian had given Mary something to think about. Maybe she was being foolish and throwing away a last chance for happiness.
35
For the next several weeks Mary busied herself working at the Pink Flamingo after having offered to take several of Eva’s shifts so she could spend more time with Jenny. When not at the motel, Mary cleaned her house, got her hair done, did the grocery shopping, had her car detailed, and did the laundry.
She no longer stopped over at Mike and Eva’s house unless invited, and didn’t talk to Jenny unless her granddaughter called.
During this time Mary noticed several things.
Eva seemed calmer and her relationship with Jenny was going in the right direction.
And Mary was clean. Very clean! She had clean clothes, a clean house, and a very clean car. Everything was as neat and tidy as it could be. What she did not have was companionship.
Mary realized she was lonely.
She also realized another thing.
River had never called, nor did he stop by–not once.
Mary thought he must be really mad. She kept mulling over what Lillian had said. But Lillian was in her forties while Mary was in her early sixties.
She looked in the mirror, really scrutinizing her face. Mary had to admit she looked younger than most sixty-some-year olds. And she was in very good health. Maybe she was being too hasty to throw in the towel as far as romance was concerned.
Mary did what she often did when she was truly stressed. She cooked her way through the problem. She made her signature mac ’n cheese casserole with fresh tomatoes and bacon. When it was done, she carefully pulled it from the oven and then put it in an insulated casserole carrier.
It would be the icebreaker she needed to ask River if they could talk and tell him she was sorry for being so hasty in her decision.
What man could resist macaroni and cheese? “Well, old gal, here goes nothing,” Mary said as she headed out the door with the casserole.
It took her several minutes to drive to his trailer park since she drove slowly to avoid spilling the casserole. Pulling into his carport, she noticed River’s trailer had an unoccupied look about it. No lawn chairs were out front and the drapes were pulled.
Mary got out and, holding her casserole in one hand, knocked on the trailer door.
No one answered.
Mary began to have a sinking feeling in her stomach. “River!” she called as she knocked again. She peeked into the nearest window, but couldn’t see a thing.
The man next door had been watering his plants when he peeked around his trailer. “You looking for River Egan?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, you just missed him. He said Florida hadn’t panned out like he had hoped and was going back home. He caught a cab to take him to the airport shuttle. If you hurry, you might catch up with him.”
“Thank you very much.”
Mary hurried back into her car and threw the casserole in the back. She had to think about where he would go to meet the shuttle. Probably at one of the big hotel chains in the area. She thought of where the closest hotel was located and gunned her car in its direction.
36
Mary screeched to a halt in front of the hotel. Lowering her car window, she asked the valet if the airport shuttle had left.
“Yes, ma’am. It left several minutes ago.”
Mary got the shuttle’s route from the valet and squealed off to the next hotel.
When she arrived at the hotel, she left her car idling in the guest check-in parking area and told the doorman she would only be a moment as she rushed past him.
Mary scanned the massive lobby as she felt her heart thumping against her chest.
Bingo!
In the back corner, she spied River sitting with his faded beach hat on his lap and his little suitcase perched at his feet.
Mary strode over to him and snatched up the suitcase.
River looked up, startled. “Hey, what’s going on?” he snapped before recognizing that the person who had swiped his meager personal belongings was Mary.
“Come on, River,” commanded Mary in a sharp tone.
“I don’t think so,” replied River, looking angry.
Mary started walking away with his suitcase. “Come on now. Don’t be stubborn. We need to talk. Afterwards, if you still want to go to the airport, I’ll take you myself,” she said as she continued to roll his suitcase through the lobby toward the entrance.
River muttered, “You’ll be the death of me, woman!” grabbing his hat as he rose to follow her.
Mary threw the suitcase in the back of her car after handing the doorman twenty dollars for not calling a tow truck on her.
“Get in, mister,” instructed Mary when River shilly-shallied by the car door.
River looked questioningly at the doorman who shrugged in response.
Cars behind Mary began honking.
“I’m not going anywhere unless you get in, River.”
River jumped into the passenger seat. “You’re causing a scene, Mary Bishop.”
“Since when did causing a scene bother you, River Egan?” she asked as she pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot with tires screeching.
“Where are we going, and what’s that delicious smell?”
“It was supposed to be a peace offering. I’ll just give it to the sharks now.”
River turned around in his seat and spied the casserole looking a little worse for wear. “That for me?”
“It was.”
River smiled. “You missed me, didn’t ya?”
Not responding, Mary pursed her lips.
“Would it kill you to say you missed me, Mary?”
“I may have missed you a little.”
“I would say a lot, since you worked so hard to find me.”
“You flatter yourself, River Egan.”
River settled into his car seat and grinned, pushing his hat back on his head. “I think not, Mary Bishop. I think not.”
He wouldn’t ever tell Mary, but he had been sitting in that lobby for days waiting, and had paid his neighbor thirty bucks to tell her where he was when she came by. River grinned. He knew a thing or two about taming a nervous filly. A man just needed to be patient . . . and have a plan.
37
“Why are we stopping here?” asked River, looking out the car window at Aussie Jack’s.
“I’m going to buy you dinner. I want to talk to you.”
“It’s too early for dinner.”
“Then I’m buying you lunch.”
“Already had it,” replied River, folding his arms in defiance.
“Then I’m buying you a drink. Just get out of the car!”
“Say please.”
“What?”
“Say please. You’ve been screaming commands at me since you kidnapped me from the hotel lobby. Now I want you to ask me nicely. Say please.”
Mary fumed for a moment and tightened her grip on the steering wheel before asking, “River, will you please join me for a drink at Aussie Jack’s?”
River cocked his head, “I don’t know.”
Mary grabbed River’s face with both of her hands and pulled him to her. “Will this change your mind?” She kissed him passionately and then shoved him away. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bar.” She got out of the car and sashayed into the restaurant, looking back seductively.
“Wow!” whistled River. “Things are looking up. She’s finally game!” He got out and hurried after her.
River found Mary sitting at the bar. She ordered two Kentucky bourbon whiskeys neat.
“Okay, I’m here. What do you want to say?”
Mary looked up at Aussie Jack, who was not-subtly lingering while drying wine glasses that were already dry. “Jack, I think I hear your mother calling you.”
Realizing he’d been caught eavesdropping, Jack frowned and said, “I’ll be in my office if you need me,” knowing he could easily turn on the speaker for the listening devices he had installed to keep tabs on his business when not on the floor. He knew something was up with those two, and he wanted in on the juicy tidbits. Yes, Aussie Jack was a bit of a nosy bloke.
Mary patted the bar stool next to her.
River obliged by sliding onto the stool, grabbing his drink, and taking a healthy swig. “I’m waiting.”
“I want to apologize to you. I’m sorry I was so abrupt when you asked me to date you. To tell you the truth, it frightened me. It just opened up so many fissures in my comfortable life that I didn’t want to change.” Mary smiled sadly. “But change comes anyway, doesn’t it?”
“Change doesn’t have to be bad or unpleasant, Mary.”
“I know that now.”
“Okay, you’ve apologized. Now take me back to the hotel. I can catch the next airport shuttle,” bluffed River standing up.
“River, please sit down and enjoy your drink. It is a beautiful day at Aussie Jack’s.”
River plopped back down on the barstool. He was enjoying making Mary sweat a bit.
Mary took a sip of the bourbon. “Why didn’t you call me again? Let me know you were leaving?”
“A man can only be so persistent in pursing his ladylove. Once she tells him in no uncertain terms to hit the highway, it becomes stalking after that. I gave up.”
“Well, what if I say that I don’t want you to give up?”
River looked at Mary in surprise. “Are you already sloshed?”
“I certainly am not. I am in full command of my faculties. I want you to stay, River. I really mean that.” Mary rested her hand on his.
“Mary, I’ve got to know. Do you like me? Are you attracted to me, not like a friend, but something more? Tell me the truth now.”
Mary swung River’s barstool around to face her. “Ask me out, River. Ask me out on a date. A proper date, now. I’m not easy. Don’t mistake my boldness for being a floozy.”
“Mary Bishop, will you go out for dinner and dancing with me?”
Mary acted like she was thinking hard about his offer. Suddenly smiling, she asked, “I need to know the venue in order to dress properly.”
River thought for a moment. “Why don’t we head up to the Fontainebleau for dinner? They might have a combo that would play the cha-cha for us.”
“I see that this will call for a tight dress with high heels.”
“I need to get a suit,” River mused.
“A pair of dress pants and a silk shirt might do. We’ll check their dress code. Now the question is when?”
“Why not tonight?”
“Why not, indeed?
“My lady, you need to let me off at a barbershop. I need a haircut and a shave. Maybe a new manicure might be in order?”
“I’ll definitely need to get my nails done, too,” concurred Mary, studying her hands.
They looked at each other and giggled.
“I feel like I’m sixteen,” confessed River.
“I do, too. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Aussie Jack went to the back of the bar and got out his most expensive bottle of champagne. Grabbing two champagne glasses, he popped the cork and poured it in front of Mary and River.
“Absolutely no such thing as going to Miami for your first official date. You two will stay right here and sip on this very expensive champagne and talk as long as you like. Take a stroll around the deck. When you’re hungry, I will personally fix you a meal that even the Fontainebleau would have a hard time matching.”
Mary gasped. “Jack, we can’t afford that champagne. I know how much it costs.”
“It’s on the house, as is the meal. Just relax and enjoy yourselves.” Jack winked at River. “If there is going to be a new beginning, it is going to begin on Key Largo.”
Mary gushed, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She glanced at River. “We both thank you sincerely.”
Lillian strolled by with an armful of pressed linen napkins. “Hey, you two. How are you? Haven’t seen you for awhile, River.”
Aussie Jack interrupted, “Lillian, consider this couple my special guests. All food and drink is on the house today.”
“Okay, boss,” replied Lillian, looking rather puzzled.
Mary grabbed their bourbons. “We’ll be out on the deck, Lillian.”
“Okay,” repeated Lillian. She looked at Jack. “What gives?”
“I swear the Last Chance Motel must be magic,” replied Jack as he watched Mary and River stroll out onto the deck.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Didn’t those two meet at the Last Chance?”
“Don’t let Eva hear you call her baby that, but yeah, Mary met River at the Pink Flamingo.”
“She should never have changed the name.”
“Why?” asked Lillian, leaning on the bar counter, watching River and Mary settling down at an outside table and talking. River reached across and held Mary’s hand.
“Look at those two. If anybody had a last chance at happiness, it was those two. Now look at them.”
“Coincidence.”
“Really, Lillian, you think that? Look what happened to you when you stayed at the Last Chance Motel. Look at Eva and Mike, and you and Jim. And I’ve heard countless other stories of healing at the Last Chance Motel. There’s just something special about that place.”
Lillian thought for a moment. “You know, you’re right. There is something off about that motel, but in a very good way. I’ve never been so happy, but something else would make me positively tingle with glee.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“A raise, Boss. A nice, fat raise.”
Aussie Jack threw down his bar rag and cursed while heading toward his office.
Lillian laughed and followed, continuing to pester him for a pay raise. “How about a bonus, then?”
Aussie Jack shut the door in her face.
Laughing, Lillian yelled through the door, “You can’t blame a girl for trying.” She gathered her napkins and began putting them on the tables for the evening trade.
Occasionally she glanced out the window at Mary and River.
They were now sitting side by side watching the fishing boats come in. When River put his arm around Mary, she nestled into his shoulder quite comfortably.
Lillian thought about how her life had changed since she came to Key Largo and the Last Chance Motel. Maybe Aussie Jack was right. Maybe there was real magic working at the Last Chance Motel.
And who could argue? Who was to say what magic really was? It could be just the touch of one reassuring hand on another. Wasn’t that magic, really?
Songs That Inspire the Last Chance Motel Series
Jan Hammer – Miami Vice Theme Song
Jimmy Buffett – Margaritaville
The Beach Boys – Kokomo
Billy Ocean – Caribbean Queen
“IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole – Somewhere Over The Rainbow
1
I knew something was wrong as I turned the corner around the copse of black walnut trees where mourning doves roosted. The stillness of the gray-breasted birds perched in a dull slash on a tree limb contrasted with the clamorous buzzing of thousands of bees. As though readying for battle, their thundering racket was an alarm that meant danger to anyone or anything that chanced upon them in their harried state.
As a mother knows the meaning of her baby’s whimpering, so a beekeeper understands the droning of her bees. I thought an animal might have disturbed them . . . a raccoon, or
maybe a deer, had kicked over a hive. That alone would cause them to be anxious and make it difficult for me to work with them. I hurried past the vigilant doves, their heads swiveling in my direction. Coming around a hedge of honeysuckle, I encountered a six-foot-high wall of enraged bees hovering between their white hives and me, a glittering wave of golden insects ready to inflict painful stings on anything deemed hostile.
Thank goodness I had worn my thick white cotton bee suit as honeybees hurled themselves at my veil in a panic. To be accosted this aggressively is unnerving, even for the most experienced beekeeper. I felt my stomach muscles tighten. Talk about a gut feeling.
“Babies, babies,” I cooed. “Settle down. Settle down.” Then I saw the source of their fear and revulsion. The metal cover from the most populous beehive had been heedlessly thrown on the ground, and wooden rectangle frames full of baby brood lay abandoned next to it. Thousands of young nurse bees frantically tried to protect this nursery full of eggs and wax-capped unborn bees by covering the frames with their bodies. This violation alone would make honeybees angry, but I saw that someone was bent over and plunged face down into the open hive, which made them even wilder. The person’s arms hung down outside the hive. I noticed the fists were clenched.
“What are you doing?” I yelled, startled at the sight of a strange person with his head and shoulders inside one of my hives. “Who are you? Get away from there!” I stepped back, waiting for a response.
My chest tightened. Hoping to stave off an asthma attack, I reached in my pocket for my albuterol spray, but realized my veil would stop me from getting the medicine to my mouth. I breathed more slowly. I inhaled the musky odor of the bees along with the heavy, cloying scent of honeysuckle hedges behind their hives. Somewhere in the distance I heard the growl of a tractor cutting sweet hay. I flinched at the sudden piercing call of a redwing blackbird.
I scanned the field for further danger. Other than a person sticking his naked head into one of my hives with Eighty thousand bees dive-bombing him and me, nothing appeared different. The rest of the hives waited in line like sailors standing at attention in their white uniforms. Bullets of reflected light darted back and forth from openings in the bottom hive boxes so quickly the human eye could barely register the tiny insects. Freshly mowed grass manicured the ground around the hives. Their water tank, full of hyacinths and duckweed, stood unmolested.