by Maren Smith
Unbelievable.
There wasn’t a single apartment complex either. That wasn’t just odd, it pretty much guaranteed Cadence would never live here. Without a job and with her credit in the tank like it was, there was just no way she could afford to buy a “Better Homes and Gardens” house.
On the next street over, Cadence finally found the neat little house and tidy yard that matched the address Venia had given her. And there she was, her Other Mother, stepping out onto the porch even as Cadence pulled into the driveway. Just that quickly, everything else was forgotten. She couldn’t get her car parked or her seatbelt off fast enough. She couldn’t even run for fear her new legs wouldn’t be able to oblige her, but even that was forgotten when she and Venia finally crashed together and her Other Mother flung her arms around her. The two women hugged. No sound, no tears. Just an embrace so tight that for a few fragile seconds, Cadence didn’t feel like such a failure.
“You’re too thin,” Venia said gruffly, stroking back her hair and pulling far enough away to give her a disapproving once over. “You look like you haven’t eaten a decent meal in weeks.”
For the second time today, Cadence felt her too-brittle face yielding to a strained laugh. “I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine.”
“You’ll be even better once I put some food in you.” Giving her a final pat on both shoulders, Venia at last set her aside. “You go on inside. I’ll get your luggage, and then we’ll have a nice cup of tea and play catch up.”
“There’s just one bag,” Cadence said, feeling ridiculously embarrassed about watching Venia pull her duffel out of the passenger seat. It was lazy of her not to carry it herself.
“Pfft!” Venia waved her on. “I’ve got it. Go, go!”
Cadence limped up the flower-lined walkway, managing the three porch steps with stiff-kneed but minor difficulty, and opened the door. She took one look at those orange walls and for the first time, the smile and the laugh she couldn’t quite stop felt genuine.
“Sherbet,” she said. “What is it with you and this color?”
“It’s warm and welcoming.” Closing the door behind her, Venia dropped her duffel on the couch and led the way to the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Most people use a coffee maker these days.”
Venia scoffed. “Bite your tongue.”
Smiling, Cadence followed her from the living room into the kitchen. Orange sorbet paint and vanilla-white cabinets and trim reminded her of ice cream.
It used to be her favorite flavor.
“You look like you’re doing well.” Cadence sat at the kitchen table, her gaze drawn back across the open space into the living room. Funny, how much this place reminded her so strongly of the house in Florida. The layout was different, but many things (like some articles of furniture and the pictures across the fireplace mantel) looked very much the same.
Preparing two cups while the water heated in a kettle on the stove, Venia followed her gaze to the pictures. There were a lot of memories on that mantel: Cadence and Cecily; Venia and Cadence’s mother, Anne; Venia and her husband, Greg, also gone.
Venia drew a soft breath and smiled, before turning her attention back to the tea. “Some days are still hard,” she admitted. “But I’m where I need to be.” Bearing two steaming cups, she came back to the table and handed one to Cadence before sinking into the chair at the head of the table beside her. “All right,” she said, folding her hands around her cup. “Let’s see them.”
Currently rubbing at her right knee, trying to ease the persistent ache, Cadence didn’t even try to pretend she didn’t understand. She grimaced, but dutifully worked both pants’ legs high enough to show the scars and the bumps of the pins just under her skin.
“It’s okay,” she lied, running her hands over the mottled scars, surgical and otherwise. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
Though fifty-three, Venia hardly looked her age. She didn’t have much in the way of age lines, just a few wrinkles that creased in at the corners of her eyes and around her lips, especially when she flattened them a frown, the way she was doing right now. “Cadence Anne Westmore, you’ve been dancing from the moment you learned how to stand. Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt. I happen to know you better than that.”
“There’s no help for it, then,” Cadence amended.
“That,” Venia said wisely, “is altogether different from not hurting.” She always knew exactly what to say to cut to the meat of any matter. “How long will you be staying?”
“How long will you have me?” Cadence didn’t mean for her voice to crack, but it did anyway.
Reaching across the table, Venia covered her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Until the cows come home, and well you know it. I don’t have a guest room any more, but the couch is comfortable as hell. I practically lived on it those first few months after Greg died, until I could make myself face the bedroom again. I swear, you’ll think you’re lying on a cloud. As for everything else…” She offered another squeeze as she said, “Well, time has a way of sorting things out. I promise, you might not think so now, but you’re going to be just fine.”
Cadence didn’t have it in her to argue. Forcing another smile, she let Venia believe she felt comforted.
Her duffel bag found a place to live in an out of the way corner of the living room behind one arm of the sofa. Later, Cadence even helped with dinner, deliberately keeping the conversation light. She asked about Cecily and the new boyfriend she was seeing. She asked about Corbin’s Bend and if her aunt liked living here better than Florida.
“Winters are an arthritic hell,” Venia said, then closed her eyes with a heaven-sent smile that made her nose crinkle with near girlish-glee as she added, “but the people here are the best! Cady baby, I wouldn’t live anywhere else. Not for all the money in the world.”
Cadence was glad. If anyone deserved such happiness, surely that person was Mama Venia. She kept that thought firmly in mind, clung to it all through dinner and the quick little clean-up that followed their simple two-person supper. And later that night, when the talking was done and the lights were out, Cadence lay under her blanket on the living room sofa and privately admired the awesome acoustics taking place in that little house. Clear from Venia’s bedroom, as clearly as if they were in the same room, she heard Venia talking on the phone.
“No, it’s just a visit… Don’t worry, Brent. My Cady is a good girl… No, she doesn’t know a thing… It’s been a hard few years for her. This is something she really needs. I consider this a personal favor… No, she’s not the type to make trouble… Of course. I’ll make sure she obeys our rules, and like I said, she’ll only be here for a little while… You too. Have a good night… Tell Char I said hello.”
Hugging a couch pillow against her chest, Cadence kept those acoustics firmly in mind and covered her mouth with her hand to help muffle what few inadvertent sounds escaped her when she cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
There was only so much pity-partying a girl could do before it was time to just plain stop. The following morning, Cadence woke up on the sofa with a crick in her shoulder and the sun in her eyes, and she knew she’d reached that point. She’d always been independent. She’d always pulled her own weight and made her own way. She was not going to be anyone’s burden, least of all her Mama Venia’s. So she got up early, took a shower, and brought in the…could it even be called a ‘newspaper’?
Printed off somebody’s home computer, the paper was really more of a pamphlet. It numbered five pages total with articles on both sides that covered local community events. By the time Venia ventured out of her bedroom in a blue bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, Cadence had breakfast on the table, had just poured her second cup of coffee, and was polishing off her last bite of toast while she read through what constituted for local news. Not a lot happened in Corbin’s Bend. Someone was expecting their second baby. Someone else was apparently in trouble because, although no specific crime w
as mentioned, a disciplinary tribunal was being arranged and all community members were urged to attend. There was a birthday party scheduled for that Saturday and information was being sought in connection with a broken window at the Amore Italian restaurant.
Cadence turned the page. There was even a Classifieds section, of sorts, although it wasn’t arranged in any particular order. None of them were Cadence’s idea of an ideal job, but she only had a month to get her mother’s ring out of hock or lose it forever. Since she was going to need to get her car fixed before attempting another trip over the mountains, at this point, anything that came with a paycheck, and she thought she could physically do, was getting circled.
“You know,” Venia yawned, pouring herself a cup of hot coffee. “No one would fault you for taking at least one good day to rest up and recoup.”
“I hate waiting.” Cadence circled another ad—deli clerk for a grocery market. She’d never worked deli before, but she did have experience working a register. Granted, that experience dated back to her sixteenth year and that register had belonged to a Dairy Queen, but really, how drastically could registers have changed in ten years’ time? It didn’t pay much better, but as far as her pride was concerned, anything was an improvement over, say, waiting tables at Amore’s. Then again, a job was a job. She circled that ad too.
“You always did.” Sinking into her seat at the head of the table, Venia only just stifled a groan when her butt made contact with the chair. “These old bones don’t move so well in the mornings anymore.”
That made Cadence smile, though she didn’t bother glancing up from the newspaper. “The way you age, your ‘old bones’ will be moving around long after the rest of us are dust.”
“What can I say? I’m a fine, fine wine.”
“Or a cheese.” Cadence couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat around a table just bantering and teasing. She hadn’t known she’d missed it this much until now.
“I’ll limburger you,” the older woman muttered, pushing aside a breakfast plate laden with a thick wedge of ham and cheese omelet. She sipped her coffee instead. “So, what are you looking for?”
“A paycheck.”
Tsking, Venia picked a piece of toast off her plate and began to eat it. “All right, read them to me.”
Shrugging, Cadence went back to the top of the classifieds page. “There’s not a lot here. Only about…seven ads and they’re spread all over. I don’t know who put this paper together—”
“Ettie Thomas, a friend of mine. About once or twice a week, she copies down all the ads off the community bulletin board and then sends it out to those of us who don’t get out much.”
Cadence looked up at her in concern. “Why don’t you get out much?”
“Oh, I get out all the time. I opt for the paper because I’m nosy that way. And lazy. Why wander all over town to get the news when I can have it delivered right to my porch?”
Scoffing, Cadence shook her head. “You ought to be ashamed.”
“So they keep telling me.” Venia grinned, completely without remorse. “So, what’s Ettie got to say about jobs?”
“Like I said, there’s not a lot being offered and what there is, is scattered in amongst all the buy, sell and trades. There are a couple cars here and there. Free puppies that were, apparently, found abandoned out on the highway. Whoever did that ought to be strung up.” Cadence shot a glance at her Other Mother. “That’s a direct quote, by the way. I like your friend Ettie already.”
“Me, too.” Venia picked up the other half of her toast. “What else is there?”
“Uh…Oh, Auntie Q’s Antiques is having a ‘hairbrush blowout’ special this weekend only. With or without bristles, it says. What good is a hairbrush without bristles, is what I’d like to know? I don’t see their sale being very successful.”
“Mm,” Venia said noncommittally, her eyes sparkling and her mouth full of toast.
“And here, there’s an ad for a guy selling collars, leashes, belts and straps in leather and chainmail. For all your personal needs, he says. Chainmail? Seriously? You must have some majorly butched out dogs around here. Sale on crops, but he doesn’t even say what he’s growing.”
“How short-sighted of him.” Smirking, Venia licked butter and crumbs off her thumb.
“No kidding. Here’s an ad for the night shift at the book store, which is probably a misprint. What kind of book store stays open all night?”
“What kind indeed,” her Other Mother mused.
Cadence read the ad quietly before circling it. “I can probably do that. How hard is it to sell books? Although…I don’t know. What if they need me to step up on stools or reach high shelves? I don’t know,” she said again, even softer this time. “Oh, wait a minute…it says it’s located about fifteen miles down the road but, Ettie says, it might be worth the commute because it offers a fifty-percent discount on all inventory, except insertables. Insertables? What the hell kind of book store is thi—Ooooh.”
While Venia shook her head, Cadence scribbled that ad off her list of potential employment opportunities.
“Never mind that one,” she said and continued down the page. “I don’t know which is worse, that ad or this one: ‘Fully furnished spnk mobile. Sound proofed interior, 3 foldouts, sleeps 8, kitchen, bath, private bed. Low miles, drives great. Take your fun down to the lake. No one’ll be the wiser.’ What’s a s-p-n-k mobile?”
“No idea.” Venia buried her smile behind another sip of coffee.
“Spank…Spenk…Spink…Sponk,” Cadence said, working her way through the vowels. “Spunk? Either that’s one gross RV or it’s another misprint. Maybe I should send my resume to Ettie and help her with proofreading.”
“Maybe you should.”
Something in her tone made Cadence glance up, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why Mama Venia would be laughing at her. “You live in a weird town, Mama V.”
Venia’s eyes crinkled at the corners, her smile softening. “I suppose I do.”
Skipping over the few remaining ads, one caught Cadence’s attention. “Wait a minute, now. Oh, here we go.”
“What?”
“Full-time housekeeper/nanny position. Live-in preferred. References and experience required. Salary negotiable. Apply in person. The address given has the same street name as your house.” Pointing at the ad in question, Cadence slid it across the table. “Is this nearby?”
Rising slightly out of her seat, Venia leaned over far enough to see. “Yes, right at the end of the cul-de-sac, in fact. That’s the Doctor’s house. Well, thank goodness. It’s about time he brought in some help.”
“Yeah, that’s what Ettie says.”
“Poor man.”
“She says that too. You know him?”
“By now, I know just about everybody here. Marcus Devon. He’s our town doctor. His wife died, poor thing, about three years ago. He’s been raising their three boys alone ever since. Actually, that’s not true. He had a housekeeper up until a few weeks ago, but she and her husband just had their first baby. So, that’s where her focus has shifted to.” Venia blinked when she realized Cadence was staring at her. “What?”
Cadence tried not to laugh. “Did you get all that from one of Ettie’s papers?”
Venia grinned. “Do you want to read the edition? I probably still have it lying around here somewhere. I understand Dr. Devon can’t stand the paper, which is probably why Ettie runs something on him at least once a month.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “If you can find a way of working it slyly into the conversation, you and the good doctor can talk about it when you go interview for that housekeeping nanny position.”
Glancing up from the pamphlet, Cadence shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I can clean a house, but I don’t have any experience looking after other people’s kids.”
“You’ve babysat before.”
“When I
was fourteen!”
“Not a lot has changed. The oldest boy is ten and the youngest, six. It’s not like you’ll have to change diapers, fix bottles or comfort a teething baby. Half the time they’ll be in school, anyway.”
“Only until tomorrow and then summer vacation starts! Also, he wants references and I don’t have any that don’t involve dancing.”
“You have me,” Venia said over her coffee cup. Her eyes crinkled again. “I make one wicked reference.”
What could she possibly say to that? Cadence closed her mouth, but all those points of argument remained, locked now behind her teeth but no less significant. She looked at the ad again. She really wasn’t qualified, but…live-in preferred. She’d still be crashing in someone else’s house, but at least she’d have her own room. And while ‘salary negotiable’ could mean anything, surely it paid better than deli clerk and Amore waitress. Particularly if she wasn’t also having to pay rent somewhere.
She could buy her mother’s ring back.
Oh, but why was she considering this when she wasn’t even remotely qualified?
Torn, Cadence looked back over the rest of her circled ads, studying her choices which, compared with Dr. Devon’s ad, weren’t any kind of choice at all.
“Do you think I should?” she couldn’t help but ask, but Cadence already knew what she wanted to do.
Venia knew it too. “I’ll get my clothes on. Let’s go buy you something nice to interview in.”
“Oh, I’ll just borrow something,” Cadence said, reluctant to have any more money spent on her than absolutely, unavoidably necessary.
“And walk into that interview looking like a very matronly young woman? Ha!” Venia stood up. “Not on my watch.”
There was just no arguing with some people. Admittedly, Cadence could have tried a little harder, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. “Live-in preferred” meant at least a million highly-qualified nannies were going to apply ahead of her. Still, more than any other option in this small-town newspaper, this was the best employment opportunity that she had.