The Last Chance Matinee

by Mariah Stewart

  “Let’s see what we have in the butler’s pantry.” Barney disappeared for a moment and returned with a large bowl. “Will this do?”

  “Got anything larger? Even a pot you make soup in. I just need to mix it. Then I’ll need cookie sheets to spread it out and bake it on, then something airtight to store it in.”

  “I have several sizes of soup pots. Come take a look.”

  Cara followed Barney and glanced at the displays of silver serving pieces and candleholders behind the glass doors. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in a time when all of this”—she waved her hand in front of the built-in cabinets—“was used all the time.”

  “It wasn’t so very long ago,” Barney told her. “My parents entertained frequently. All the silver you see there was brought out every weekend.” She smiled. “It was a very different time, a different way of life.” She opened a lower cabinet door and brought out a large pot. “How ’bout this?”

  “Perfect,” Cara told her.

  “And there are baking sheets in the lower cabinet on your left.”

  Cara sorted through the baking sheets until she found two that she thought would suffice. “These will do nicely.”

  “Now I’ll just have to poke around and see what we can come up with that might be airtight. Why don’t you go on and get started? This might take me a few minutes.”

  “Good idea.” Cara gathered her findings and went back into the kitchen.

  When Barney emerged from the pantry, she had several large cookie tins in her hands. “Will these do? I use them to store homemade cookies around the holidays. Best I can come up with.”

  “They’ll be great.” Cara measured the dry ingredients into the pot, then stirred the mix with a long-handled spoon. “Barney, would it be okay if I poked around in my dad’s old room?”

  “Sure.” Barney opened a drawer for a towel and began to dry the tins. “Any particular reason?”

  “I guess I’m hoping to find something that might give me a clue as to who he was.” Cara put the pot aside and began to chop the almonds.

  “You don’t think you know?” Barney appeared mildly confused.

  “Not really. I know who he was when he was with Susa and me. At least, I know the man he wanted us to know. The rest of it . . .” Cara shrugged. “I don’t think I have a clue.”

  “What is it you want to know?” Barney asked.

  “Who he was when he was younger. When he was a kid. A teenager. I guess I want to see if I can figure out what made him do what he did.” Cara mentally checked the recipe and continued to add what she needed.

  “Cara, no one can answer that but Fritz, and he had his chance and chose not to take it. You’re welcome to go through his room, though there’s not much left. He took his clothes and anything that meant something to him a long time ago. Everything else—books, records, that sort of thing—got packed up and sent to the attic years ago.”

  “What did Dad read when he was a kid?” Des stood in the doorway, apparently having heard the conversation.

  Barney put the towel down and pulled a chair from the table to take a seat. “As I recall, mostly adventure-type books. Treasure Island and The Call of the Wild. Around the World in Eighty Days.”

  “He read those to me when I was a child,” Cara recalled.

  “Me too.” Des leaned over the pot of granola and sniffed. “You put cinnamon in. I love the smell of cinnamon. It reminds me of Christmas.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me that he was into adventure books. He always made up stories about finding buried treasures and solving mysteries.” Cara smiled at the memory. “Of course, they all starred me as the heroine.”

  “Funny, he always did the same with us, too. Allie and I were the sisters who traveled the world in a hot-air balloon with our monkey sidekick and a cooler filled with lemonade.”

  “You had a pet monkey when you were a kid?” Cara asked.

  Des made a face. “Please. Our mother never even let us have a goldfish. The monkey was made up.”

  “God, we had such a menagerie.” Cara laughed. “At one point we had two dogs, three cats, a parrot, a goat, and a llama that someone had given my mother in exchange for yoga lessons.”

  “No wonder Dad fell for her. She sounds like she was so fun,” Des said. “He always wanted pets for us. My mother was just too finicky.”

  “Mine was just the opposite.” Cara gave the granola one last stir, then proceeded to spread the mixture onto the sheets. “Barney, you said Dad had some records that got packed up? What kind of music did he listen to?”

  “Oh, he had a whole box of old forty-fives. Mostly early rock and roll. Lots of fifties stuff. Elvis and Chuck Berry and some of those old slow songs they used to play at the school dances.” Barney grinned. “Somewhere upstairs there’s a red leather case with a whole lot of vintage rock on vinyl and an old record player that we used to keep in the upstairs sitting room because my mother would not have that stuff playing down here on the first floor where someone stopping by might hear it.” She paused, the smile still on her face. “We had a cook named Wanda who brought a small radio with her, and on days when my mother wasn’t home, she’d plug it in here in the kitchen and turn it up. She taught Fritz and me both to dance right here on this floor.”

  “I’d love to hear those records,” Des said.

  “Me too.” Cara slid a cookie sheet onto the oven’s top rack. The second sheet followed and she closed the door. “I wish we could play them.”

  “You’ll need to find that record player.” Barney paused. “I’d start with the attic. That’s the most likely place.”

  “Do you think it still works?” Cara set the timer for twenty minutes.

  “Worked fine last time we played it. Of course, that was some years ago, but I can’t see any reason why it wouldn’t work. Assuming you could find it.”

  “Okay, so Dad liked to dance and he liked rock and roll. What else?” Cara asked.

  “Well, he collected baseball cards, but back in the fifties, who didn’t?” Barney thought for a moment before adding, “Oh, and he was athletic. He ran track in high school. He was on a relay team, I seem to recall.”

  “Any chance his old yearbooks are still around?” Des sat on the window seat, her left foot tucked under her.

  “Of course. In the library,” Barney told her. “Used to be on the bottom shelf behind that brown leather chair.”

  “I’ll see if they’re still there.” Des went to search, but she’d barely reached the front hall when the doorbell rang.

  “Get that please, Des, since you’re right there,” Barney called to her.

  “Sure.”

  Cara heard voices, then footsteps in the hall that drew closer.

  “Look who stopped by,” Des said as she and Joe Domanski came into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Joe.” Barney beamed as she greeted him. “Come on in. Can we get you a cup of coffee or something? You look chilled.”

  “Yeah, the winds have picked up and the temperature is dropping. I heard maybe some flurries later tonight.” Joe turned to Cara. “Hey, hi.”

  “Hi.” Cara smiled and went to check the granola.

  “Was that a yes or a no on the coffee?” Barney asked.

  “It was a no, thank you. I can’t stay. I told Cara I’d drop off the key to the theater that she gave me this morning after I had a duplicate made.” He turned to Cara. “But I bought that new lock set we talked about, so I didn’t bother having the dup made. I’ll install the new lock first thing tomorrow but if it’s okay with you, I’ll hang on to your key to open up in the morning.”

  “Of course. Thanks, Joe.” Cara closed the oven door. “What do we owe you?”

  “I left the invoice in the truck but I can—” He stopped and sniffed. “Wow, whatever you’re making smells really good.”

  “Cara’s making granola,” Des told him.

  “That’s granola? Really?” When Cara nodded, he said, “Nice.”

  “
Tell you what,” Barney continued. “You come back in the morning and we’ll feed you breakfast, and you can sample Cara’s granola before you install the new lock.”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.” Joe looked at Cara as if for confirmation.

  “Sure. There’s a ton of it. You’re welcome to join us.” Her cheeks began to burn just a little, so she turned away. “And you can bring us the invoice for the new lock so we can pay you back.”

  “Fair enough.” Joe kissed the top of Barney’s head and half backed out of the kitchen. “I guess I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  “I’ll walk you out, son.” Barney rose, and she and Joe left the room.

  “Deny it all you want, girl, but he has his eye on you.” Des grinned. “For a moment, it looked like he didn’t see either Barney or me.”

  “Don’t be silly, Des. Barney was the one who got the kiss on the head. They seem pretty close.”

  “Yeah, what do you suppose that’s all about?” Des wondered aloud. “All we know is that his grandmother and Barney are good friends.”

  “She’s probably known him since he was a kid. Sometimes families get really close. . . .”

  Barney’s footsteps heading back to the kitchen echoed in the hall.

  “Nicest boy in town, I swear,” Barney announced as she came back into the room.

  “He seems to be,” Des said, her eyes on Cara.

  “Oh, he’s had a time of it, that one.” Barney nodded. “Turned out better than anyone gave him credit for, that’s for sure.”

  “What does that mean?” Cara turned to her aunt.

  “No one had very high expectations for him, that’s all. No one but me and his mom and his grandmom, anyway.” Barney verbally patted herself on the back. “I never doubted the boy for a minute.”

  “What’s the story?” Cara asked, intrigued.

  “Well, I’m not one to gossip, but his father . . .” Barney confided. “He was a piece of work. Inherited a very lucrative business from his father. That man, Joe Junior—our Joe is Joe the third; we used to call him J3—drove that company right into the ground.”

  “Didn’t he do a good job?” The timer went off and Cara took the cookie sheets from the oven and placed them on top of the stove.

  “He did when he wasn’t drinking, which unfortunately wasn’t often enough to keep the business afloat,” Barney told them. “A wife and three kids, and Joe Junior couldn’t keep himself sober long enough to complete a job. After a time, no one wanted to hire him, and the business tanked.”

  “It seems to be doing well now. Joe said he had men on a couple of jobs.” Cara recalled their conversation at the theater. “He said he didn’t mind being late to his jobsites because he had good crews working for him.”

  “Oh, young Joe brought the business back better than ever, worked his tail off to make it happen. Hardest-working man I know.”

  “Where’s his father now?” Des asked.

  “Over in Rose Tree,” Barney said dryly.

  “What’s that?”

  “Cemetery.” Barney’s face darkened. “Drove home from the Bullfrog one night, drunk as a skunk, hit a car in the opposite lane. Just like that, wiped out three lives. His was one of them.”

  “How long ago?” Cara searched the drawers for a wide spatula.

  “About four years ago, I guess. Maybe a little more since Joe took over the business and started building it back up. He was in the army for a while, right out of college.” Barney lowered herself into the nearest chair as if suddenly too tired to stand. “I think he’d have liked to have moved on from here, but he had obligations.”

  Cara was about to ask what obligations kept him in Hidden Falls—did he have a wife, a child?—but Allie had followed her nose into the kitchen, her phone, as always, in her hand.

  “Oh, yum! Someone made cookies. They smell awesome.”

  “Cara made granola,” Des told her.

  “Doesn’t smell like granola to me.” Allie went to the stove to check out the cookie sheets. “It smells like”—she sniffed the air—“oatmeal cookies.”

  “Close enough.” Cara scraped the granola with the spatula to form chunks. “If you wait a few minutes you can try it out. It’s too hot right now.”

  “Did I hear the doorbell?” Disregarding Cara’s warning, Allie reached for a chunk, then blew on it to cool it before popping it into her mouth. “Tastes like a crunchy cookie. Yum.” She nabbed another chunk before heading to the table.

  “Joe Domanski stopped to let us know he picked up a new lock for the theater,” Barney explained.

  “This is really good, Cara.” Allie ate the second piece. “I apologize for my skepticism.”

  “I can’t resist.” Des took a few chunks off one of the trays. “The smell is so tantalizing.”

  “Joe thought so, too. He’s joining us for breakfast in the morning before he installs the new lock.” Barney drifted toward the tray and helped herself to a bit of the granola.

  “So Joe the hot contractor is coming for breakfast.” Allie sat at the table, cradling her snack in the palm of her hand, and grinned at Cara.

  “It’s the granola he’s coming for, Allie. Just granola.” Cara hoped she hadn’t sounded as defensive as she felt.

  “You keep telling yourself that.” Allie smirked. “God, this stuff is addictive.” She went back to the trays, where Des stood picking at the smaller pieces.

  “Keep it up, you two, and there won’t be anything left for the morning.” Cara began to scoop the granola into the tins Barney had set out for her.

  “You know who he reminds me of? That super-hot guy on Game of Thrones.”

  “Could you be more specific?” Des tried to shoo Cara away from her hand and Allie looked like she wanted to sneak more granola. “There are only about a thousand guys on that show, several of whom would qualify as super-hot.”

  “You know who I mean. The hot blond guy who sleeps with his twin sister.”

  “Who sleeps with his sister?” Barney’s head shot up from a note she was writing to herself.

  “Jaime Lannister on Game of Thrones,” Allie told her.

  “Oh, that’s disgusting. Don’t tell me things like that.” Barney made a face. “I’m glad I never watched it. And don’t compare Joe to someone who does something like that.”

  “I can see the resemblance,” Des broke in. “It’s the eyes and the hair. Definitely.”

  “I don’t see it at all,” Cara grumbled.

  “You watch, too?” Allie raised an eyebrow.

  “Religiously,” Cara admitted.

  “Oh my God, I’ve got a bunch of heathens under my roof.” Barney raised her eyes to the heavens.

  “This guy is so hot, even his sister can’t resist him,” Allie went on with a wicked glint in her eye, intended, no doubt, to bedevil Barney just a little more. “They have three kids together, but everyone thinks the kids are—”

  “Enough.” Barney covered her ears with her hands. “I don’t want to know about it. And you’re not watching that sort of thing on my TV.”

  “Barney, you have cable, right?”

  “Yes, but not for the likes of that.”

  “The new season doesn’t start for months yet, but we can watch the old episodes,” Des said. “We can watch in my room.”

  “Count me in.” Allie turned to Cara. “You in?”

  “Of course. I have my laptop with me. We can watch on that.” Cara took a cereal bowl from the cupboard and filled it with granola. She placed it on the table where everyone could reach it while Barney muttered, “Where’s Mary Tyler Moore when you need her?”

  “Can you make more?” Allie helped herself.

  “I don’t think there’s enough honey.”

  “Put it on next week’s grocery list,” Barney told her.

  “Oh, I was on my way into the library for those yearbooks when the doorbell rang.” Des snapped her fingers as she remembered. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What yearbooks?” A
llie asked.

  “Dad’s old high school yearbooks,” Cara told her.

  “Oh, cool. Is Mom in there, too?”

  “Nora was four or five years younger than Fritz, if memory serves me,” Barney reminded her. “She wouldn’t be in the same yearbook.”

  “No, but there are some great shots of Dad.” Des returned with a small stack of yearbooks and placed them on the kitchen table. She opened the top book. “Look here, Dad’s senior picture.”

  She held up the page where a young Fritz, dressed in a dark suit and tie, smiled for the camera.

  “Damn, he was good-looking back then. No wonder Mom fell for him.” Allie’s eyes lingered on the page.

  “And check this out,” Des said. “Dad ran track. Look at those legs.”

  Allie and Cara both leaned in to take a look.

  “I don’t remember him talking about what an athlete he was in school,” Cara said.

  Allie shook her head. “Me either. He looked really good back then.”

  “He stopped running about ten years ago. Said his knees bothered him,” Des reminded them.

  “But he still played golf,” Allie said. “I don’t think he was very good at it, but he did it because he thought it’d be good for his business. So many actors and other agents played. It made Mom crazy, because the clubs he bought were really expensive and he donated them to Goodwill when he got tired of it.”

  “Fritz always did tire of things easily. Even as a kid, he’d go all in on something, get bored, then move on to something else.” Barney shook her head. “He had a very short attention span.”

  Allie reached for one of the other books. “This would’ve been his sophomore year.” She opened it and thumbed through the pages.

  “Let’s see. I think that was the year he joined the drama club. Made the varsity baseball team. See if you can find the sports section, Allie.” Barney waited while Allie searched the book.

  “Yes, here. The varsity baseball team. Oh, and look. I think this is Uncle Pete.” Allie tapped on a photo, and everyone gathered around to take a look.

  “Oh yes, that’s Pete.” Barney stared, then smiled slowly. “Of course, Pete had a lot more hair back then.” She continued to study the picture. “Damn if he doesn’t look like Gil in that picture. I’d forgotten how much alike they were.”