She snapped a picture of the yearbook photo, zooming in with her cell phone. Then she attached the picture to a text and sent it to Sally in Connecticut.
Do you remember this guy from high school? Graduated the same year. Found out our 10-year reunion is next week. Wish you were here.
"So is it a joke," Kira mused, waiting for a response from Sally. "Or is the man lying through his teeth?"
Could she trust him? That was a question without an answer since she had never spent five minutes alone with him.
The man from last night was pretty darn gorgeous. Those gray eyes, the straight nose, and the easy, disarming smile. Actually, his shyness had been endearing when he tried to hide how much he was staring at her while she served.
If she came right out and admitted it, her heart had been in her throat the entire time she took his order and served him dinner. And then to top it all off was that inexplicable tip of five hundred dollars.
Knowing that Caleb Davenport was thinking about her, that he'd taken the time to write the note asking her for a dance on the back of the hundred-dollar bill, gave her a fizzy feeling that soared straight up her neck, making her scalp tingle. She couldn't remember when a man had ever made her feel like this in her life.
Chapter 8
A text from Sally came through when Kira walked up the back porch. The screen door snapped behind her as she paused to read it.
Sorry, don’t remember this dude at all. You sure he graduated the same year? Stay away from him at the reunion, he looks like trouble. Wish we could go together! XOXO
Gosh, she missed Sally. The last two years had been hard enough without her long-time friend to share the sorrows and fears of Dad’s accident and the ensuing surgeries and health scares. Although Sally had called every day while Dad had been in a coma that first month.
At first, they didn’t know if he’d live or die.
Multiple fractures and lacerations. A brain hemorrhages. But worst of all came the news that her father's spine had been severed and Dad became a paraplegic for the rest of his life.
Leaning against the back door, Kira took a moment to get her emotions to settle down. She brushed at her eyes and poured a glass of ice water to rinse the dust out of her throat. “Hey, Mom, can I show you something in here?” she finally called out, remaining where she was to force her mother to come to her.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Mom’s eyes were bright with false cheerfulness when she stopped in the doorway. As though she suspected that her daughter wanted to have a private talk and would rather go hide in a closet. “Can I make you some lunch now?”
“Nope, it’s only been an hour since breakfast.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re a busy girl and have lots to do before you have to go to work.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, Mom?”
“You look so thin these days, sweetheart. I hope you’re eating something besides Diet Coke and Doritos.”
Well, at least her mother remembered her favorite snack food.
Kira took her mother’s hand and led her into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Dad had a John Wayne western playing on the television, the volume turned up loud. She suspected he was beginning to lose his hearing. Probably needed his ears checked now.
Her mother always wanted Kira to go to the doctor with them so she could have help folding the wheelchair into the trunk of the car, help Dad in and out of the front seat, using the unique belt from the hospital to steady and secure him. At least Dad still had most of his upper body strength which helped with getting in and out of the car or his bed in the morning.
Mom busied herself rearranging knickknacks on the dresser. Moving Dad’s spare change, she stacked the quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies in rows. She straightened her sock drawer. Stuck a bobby pin in her hair to get it out of her eyes. Cleaned a hairbrush, all of her movements quick as a sparrow as if flitting from a tree to a rooftop and back again.
“Mom, please sit down.” “I have so much to do.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just fussing and avoiding me.”
Her mother’s eyes widened in horror. “I would never avoid you.”
“I found my rent check from last month in your stuff. But where’s the other check? I had two month’s rent to be mailed. One was a little late, and the other was a little early because I’d worked overtime and wanted to make sure I didn’t get late fees twice in a row. That check is missing.”
“Missing?” Her mother swallowed hard. “I’m sure it’s just misplaced. Once you explain to your landlord—”
“It’s going to take some sweet talking to shred that eviction notice.”
Her mother gave her a small pat on the shoulder and began cleaning the bathroom, talking through the door in a louder voice. “It will all work out.”
“Mom.”
Silence. The sink ran, and Kira could see her mother change out the TP roll and root around for the cleanser and wet wipes.
“Mother,” she said again.
“You wanted to talk some more?”
Kira got up and firmly set the cleaning supplies down. “I think you took the check, Mom. But why? Are things so bad?”
Her mother turned away, but not before Kira could see her eyes filling with tears.
“What did you use it for, and why didn’t you just talk to me?” Somehow, her mother had doctored the check and was able to deposit it or cash it. Which was extremely disconcerting that her mother could be so devious.
“I’m sorry, honey. I haven’t had a paycheck for two months myself, and your father’s medicine is so expensive. I was waiting for the reimbursement from insurance. The paperwork is endless. So overwhelming, you have no idea. It takes me half of every day. And I don’t understand most of it.”
Kira watched her mother throw up her hands, as though already defeated. “Even bankruptcy costs. Everything—it’s just—too much.”
“I think you need to get a check-up, Mom. And you need some help here.”
Her mother gave her an offended look. “I don’t need any help. I’m perfectly capable.”
“I know you are. Very capable,” Kira assured her.
Her mother pressed her lips together. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Maybe you just need some hormone pills or something. You’ve probably neglected your own health taking care of Dad the past two years. It’s completely understandable.”
Her mother suddenly dropped to the bed, her face in her hands. “I’m a terrible wife. There are days I just want to run away.”
Kira sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “I know you love Dad. Nobody doubts that for a minute. You have a lot you’re trying to take care of, but right now we need to take care of you. I’m scheduling you for a full check-up with your primary care doctor. And I’m going with you.”
“You don’t have time. You already do too much yourself. You’ve given up your schooling and your own life.”
“I want you to be healthy, Mom. Dad needs you to be healthy. I’ll get it scheduled and go with you. We’ll have lunch afterward, it’ll be fun.”
“We haven’t been out just the two of us for a long time . . .” her mother’s voice trailed away. She reached for a tissue from the dresser and blew her nose.
“Maybe we can go shopping for a decent dress for my high school reunion, too.”
Her mother’s expression perked up. A tremulous smile crossed her lips. “Going to the mall for a new party dress would be heavenly. Grocery shopping is just drudgery. Pinching pennies, cutting coupons.”
“Why do you think I drink Diet Coke and chips all the time?” Kira laughed. “Well, a frozen bagel or pizza once in a while. At least I get one good meal a day at Rossi’s on my break.”
“Before I forget again, here’s your reunion announcement. See, I didn’t even open it. I assume that’s it.”
Kira almost laughed. She raised her face to look into her mother’s worried face. With a sly grin, she said, “It’s a pretty safe bet th
is is it. The envelope is stamped with Southfield High School Reunion on the outside.”
Her mother let out a small laugh.
“It’s going to be fine, Mom. Hang in there. Let Dad take care of the household bills and finances. He’s perfectly capable of filling out paperwork.”
Since it was Saturday, Kira had to leave a voicemail to schedule a doctor appointment for her mother, then she penciled in a shopping date on her mother’s calendar that hung next to the sink.
When she hugged her father goodbye, he whispered, “We’re okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about us.”
Kira gazed into her father's watery blue eyes. “At the moment, it’s not you I’m worried about.”
He gave a knowing nod. “I’m glad you’re taking your mother to the doctor. She won’t listen to me.”
So Dad wasn’t completely clueless. After waving goodbye, Kira headed out to return home to change for work—by way of the landlord’s office first. She didn’t want to see her possessions thrown out into the street.
But she was more worried about her parents. Without her mother’s part-time job, her parent’s future had become even more precarious. But Mom didn’t seem capable of working any longer. The early signs of dementia terrified her. “Please, God, no. Please. How much more can Mom and Dad take?”
She climbed into her car and turned the key, the ignition coming to life. She pounded on the steering wheel in frustration. “And what am I doing going to the high school reunion alone? Why did I agree to go?”
That was a useless question. Curiosity, that’s why.
Was Caleb Davenport a Denver native—or a transplant in on a gag with Troy and his friends when they saw her at the restaurant last night?
While she drove back to the freeway, the man’s face rose in her mind, and Kira found herself swerving just a little up the on-ramp. All evening, Caleb had practically willed her to look at him with a strange magnetic pull of emotion and attraction.
The feeling he evoked made her want to float five feet in the air.
The next minute, a flare of anger welled up her throat. If she were being played for a practical joke, she’d personally take a hit out on Troy Thurlow herself.
Chapter 9
When Kira visited the apartment office, she practically got on her hands and knees to beg Mr. Whipple, the landlord, to cash the rent check she’d found for September and then to accept the second check she’d written fresh that morning which included the five-hundred-dollar tip from “Caleb Davenport” to help cover October.
Despite the cash and checks, Mr. Whipple stalled for a bit, trying to look like a tough guy, but eventually told Kira to rip up the Eviction Notice.
“Thank you, Mr. Whipple.” As she was leaving, Kira deposited an aluminum foil covered plate with homemade chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, on his desk.
He eyed her over his wire-framed glasses. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
Kira widened her eyes. “Of course not. I baked way more than I can eat, so you get the extras.”
“Ever heard of a freezer?”
Kira gave him a smile. “Take them home for your kids.”
“My kids are forty years old.”
“Your grandchildren, then.”
“That I can do,” he said drily, moving the plate closer. “It did seem odd to me that after a year of on-time rent, you let it go into arrears so badly.”
“Thank you for understanding, Mr. Whipple.”
Before he could lecture her further, Kira scurried out the door. She pulled her jacket collar up close from the chill wind coming down the street, tossing the leaves on the trees surrounding the property.
At least she had something to look forward to besides work the upcoming week. Shopping for a dress on Tuesday. Fingers crossed her mother’s doctor appointment by the end of the week if Doctor Giles could fit them in. And then the High School Reunion the following Friday.
Kira replayed the conversation in her mind. Had she agreed, or merely nodded in vague acquiescence?
She wondered if some of her old friends from Choir would be there. That would make the evening more palatable. Why was she so reticent? Or was it nerves. The nagging feeling that somehow she was being set up still hanging around.
The worst would be to dress up and go and then Caleb and Troy, and the other guys were no-shows, and she’d awkwardly sit with a table of strangers. It had been a large graduating class, and she probably didn’t know more than a fraction of them.
“For the moment, I will remain happy that I still have a place to call home,” Kira thought out loud.
When she let herself into her apartment, she sat on the sofa with Miss Pixie in her lap while she shot off a group text to all three of her older brothers—all who lived out of state; Carl in San Jose, Brad in New Orleans, and Evan in Nebraska working the oil fields.
Thanks for all the help, bros, she wrote with a tad of sarcasm. Dad’s the same. A little depressed, maybe, feeling cooped up, but Mom may be losing her marbles. Taking her to the doc next week. Anytime you want to swing by would be great!
A reply from Evan, her brother just three years older, came back quickly. Ha-ha, Kira. Next time I’m in the neighborhood.
Kira: Ha-ha, yourself. I almost lost my apartment due to mom’s negligence. Hey . . . Do you ever remember a Caleb Davenport from high school? He would have been in my class.”
Evan: Nope. Didn’t pay attention to the babies below me.
Kira: Don’t get lost in the oil fields. Just bring us home some black gold so we can all retire.
Evan: Sure, I’ll tell my boss to hand over the company to me. Just because you asked nicely.
Kira: Can’t blame me for trying.
A smiley face came back, and Kira giggled at her cell phone.
She tossed it onto the couch where the device immediately fell between the cushions.
Her brothers were all married with wives and little ones, and she could understand the difficulty of getting time off and the travel expense, but it wasn’t fair that she had all the burden of her ailing parents and their medical and money woes.
“Brothers get off scot-free while daughters are assumed to put their own lives on hold and do the work,” she grumbled. Because she had to whine a little, or else scream. Screaming was out of the question with neighbors only a thin wall away.
Besides, what could they do, really? Mom could still prepare meals, shop, keep house. She wasn’t running around the neighborhood delirious and naked—yet.
Once she was dressed in her Rossi’s uniform, Kira made a PB&J and dug out her phone, pulling up the DREAMS app. “Wonder if they sell fancy dresses?”
She typed in ‘high school reunion dresses’ and snorted. No such category existed, of course. Continuing to laugh at herself, she switched her search to ‘Evening dresses.’
She scrolled through pages and pages of them. Beautiful and unique dresses, actually, in every style, color and size imaginable. And cheap! Her eyes bugged out at the astonishingly reasonable prices.
“Unfortunately, I can’t try them on. I need a virtual dressing room.”
She perused through categories of toys and antique furniture and some lovely chiming grandfather clocks. “DREAMS could be the wave of the future. Why go to a regular store or even Wal-Mart?”
An app would never take the place of people who liked to window shop in real stores. Try on clothes. Size out the furniture. Have lunch out and make it a day.
But she could see why this was a popular site.
The alarm on her phone beeped with her drop-dead time. “And now I’m late.”
Kira gave Miss Pixie a pat on the head before rushing out the door. She nearly got a speeding ticket running through a very orangey red streetlight, but the police car’s siren remained thankfully silent. A traffic ticket was the last thing she needed.
Chapter 10
By the time two Fridays came around, Kira had worked herself into a beautiful set of nerves. One mi
nute she was nervous with anticipation thinking about the reunion and the next she’d decide to stay home and watch Gone with the Wind with extra buttered popcorn. Five minutes later, she’d pull up possible hairstyles on the internet.
“Oh, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said out loud, channeling Scarlett O’Hara and switching off the TV. “Okay, I’ll go.”
She’d give anything for a fairy godmother to come sweeping in with the perfect dress that clung to her body in all the right curves. Including gorgeous high heels and an upsweep with delicate tendrils that rivaled the best salon in New York City.
Instead, she dragged out her makeup case and curling iron and tried to assemble something respectable. With lots of extra hold hairspray.
The dress she’d finally found shopping with her mom, after six hours on their feet at Macy’s, Penney’s, and then Dillard’s, was an emerald green color that matched her eyes.
Sparkly gemstones along the collar and neckline, but not overdone. A three-quarter length drop waist swished around her calves in soft chiffon. Not floor-length as if she were attending Senior Prom—which she hadn’t since she graduated a semester early and worked all those months to help pay for her living expenses while at Julliard.
“Miracle of miracles,” she proclaimed when she was finished. “I don’t look half bad.” Her hair was soft and wavy, falling below her chin. Not too much cleavage either so she didn’t have to worry about bending over.
Emerald green dangly earrings to match the dress. Together, the dress and jewelry weren't more than a hundred bucks. With an extra shift, she could pay it off her credit card next month.
Kira's phone rang, pulling her away from a daydream of dancing with Caleb. “How does your dress look?” asked her mother. She was on speaker phone. Dad was probably listening too.
“Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Now I just hope I don’t get lost trying to find my way downtown to the hotel. And parking is always a pain.”
“Aren’t you meeting up with any friends for dinner first?”
The Executive Page 6