by K. B. Draper
“That’s where Grand pulled you out?” This time there was a hint of a question in her voice as she walked back, slipping an arm around my waist.
I lifted a finger to wave in the general direction. “Yeah, down where that tree kind of hangs out. They’d found Erika’s body the next day a mile or more downriver.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ashlyn said, head leaned against my shoulder.
“It’s a little better knowing … knowing I wasn’t the reason or at least not the direct reason anyway.”
“Thank you,” Ashlyn said after a long silence.
I nodded. “It was good for me to see it again. Differently now and with you.” I pulled her in closer before releasing her. “We should get going, or we’re going to be late meeting Dad.
Chapter 5
The next stop on the Tour de AJ brought a smile to my lips. Dad’s shop. And by shop, I mean, three large buildings built on about two acres on the south edge of town. Machine shop, woodshop, and the main building—and I loved each and every one of them. Dad’s office in the main building was one of a comfortable six-pack that was laid out behind a large welcoming lobby, which was set up more like a living room than a storefront. Mom had designed the place to give their guests a comfortable space to discuss ideas, roll out blueprints, and flip through designs books, all while showing off her husband’s and their team’s work. Everything in the large room spoke to their attention to detail, from the large fireplace with a hand-carved mantel and the large wood columns that met the real wood floor to the towering ceiling with its large wood beams. One corner housed a full kitchen, with richly stained cabinets outlining the quartz counters and stainless-steel appliances.
Ashlyn took three steps into the showroom before stopping. “Oh my god, this is their shop? I could live here.”
“Might be a little awkward to have adult time with all the spectators.” I swept a hand at the baker’s dozen that had all turned to spectate at the newcomers. “But I mean, I’m game if you are.”
“Addison Jo Mattox, it’s about time you came home,” a voice boomed from behind one of the large counter areas.
My smile went next level. “Vera,” I said, leaving Ashlyn for the other love of my life. Not the do naked things with love, but the woman who’d captured my heart the first time she’d told me to “stop monkeying around or she’d drive me to the zoo and lock me up herself.”
Vera was all of five-foot-two, small-framed, but with a little fighter’s weight on her, two pounds of it being the four-inch-tall pile of white/silver hair she had braided and wrapped up neatly on her head.
When we played out the hug and love routine a few moments later, she stepped back and gave me a good once-over. “You look good, child. Strong, healthy …” She took in my face. “And is that a hint of happy on my girl?”
“Happy now that I’ve seen you,” I offered, my affection for this woman evident in my tone.
Her dark cocoa bean eyes sparked in response. “You always were such a slick talker. Is that how you got this beautiful thing?” she asked as Ashlyn came up alongside me, already reaching a hand out in greeting.
“That and my bedroom skills,” I said, just to get a rise out of her, which happens to be one of my favorite pastimes.
“Don’t make me take you out back and straighten you out so early in your visit,” Vera scolded as she took Ashlyn’s hand in hers. “I swear I tried to raise this girl right, but she’s got a devil’s streak in her that’s a mile wide.”
“And a foot deep,” Ashlyn added.
“I like her already,” Vera offered in my direction before turning back to Ashlyn, “I’m Vera, by the way, since I apparently didn’t get any manners to stick to her either.”
“I’m Ashlyn,” Ashlyn offered, as Vera turned her and started leading her away, instant BFFs, bonding over their shared commiseration a.k.a. me.
I fell in behind them, smiling at the two opposites attracting. Vera, her shoulders starting to hunch, the little hitch in her knee worse than when I’d last saw her and begged her to get the surgery that she’d needed for years. Her giving her standard reply. ‘I can’t be away from work that long, but maybe when things slow down, maybe.” Ashlyn, tall, strong, graceful, her training and workout evident with every muscle engagement. Vera’s volume was set on seven, Ashlyn’s always a soft calming four, well almost always, hint-hint double wink. Vera’s double-mocha-latte skin; Ashlyn’s was more double shot of cream in a chai latte. Despite the surface differences, they were two of the most determined, strong, intelligent, and beautifully stubborn women I’d ever known.
Vera had adopted our family nearly twenty-five years ago after mom had learned from a mutual friend that Vera had some much-needed house repairs. Turned out, Vera’s daughter had been killed by a drunk driver, and she was now a single grandmother of a five-year-old. Add to the pain and suffering, Vera had been laid off from the local boot factory. Mom told Dad the story over dinner, and the next day he’d shown up on Vera’s doorstep with toolbox in hand.
Vera refused his offering of freebie assistance stating she didn’t take handouts. I don’t know exactly how their exchange went from there, but the work got done, and the next morning dad found Vera leaning against his work truck at 6:30 a.m., and she’d never missed a day of work since. She’d had to bring her granddaughter, Mia, to work a few times when daycare or family fell through, but Dad and Mom didn’t care, as they had to bring my sister and me nearly every day back then too.
Mia and I had become fast friends. Best friends. Mia was smart, sassy, and fearless. Mix that with my special blend of trouble, and we’d spent many hours in timeout in Vera’s office. We were inseparable. Luckily, Mia wised up after we’d started school. Not that we stopped stirring things up; she just became more cunning and kept us from getting caught. She’d been the first one I’d come out to and had been my fiercest defender when the whole Erika thing went down.
A wave of red-hot guilt stoked in my gut for distancing myself from her after the Oklahoma incident. It got easier to ignore her completely after we moved away for college and got busy with a full load of classes and then attending all those pity parties I threw for myself. After a while, she became a part of my past, like so many other things.
I put those regrets in my back pocket and focused on the two chatty women in front of me. Ashlyn was asking Vera about herself and the business, and Vera was her usual modest self, saying, “Oh I don’t do much, I just try to help Joy and Roy the best way I know how, to lessen their loads where I can.” Totally skipping over the part that she’d raised an amazingly strong, smart, beautiful granddaughter, put herself through night school, and earned herself two degrees, accounting and business management. For the last fifteen years, she had run the business part of the company. Five years ago, for her twentieth anniversary, Dad and Mom, with my sister’s and my full support, had given Vera twenty-five percent stock in the business and had added “& Robbins” to the wood shingle that hung over the entry door.
“Enough about me, did my girl tell you about the time I caught her at the top of a three-story scaffolding where she’d fashioned a zipline?”
Ashlyn smiled over her shoulder. “No, I think she’s failed to tell me a lot of things.”
“I’ll admit it was a pretty good setup. She’d figured the angle of line, weight capacity, even fashioned a bumper for the end of the ride, but that silly widget didn’t tighten the rig at the bottom bracing enough and if she’d taken just one more ride down that cable, it would’ve stripped and she—”
“Would’ve been flatter than a fritter,” I finished the well-told story for her.
“Lord, we barely got that girl raised.”
Ashlyn was nodding in understanding. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”
Vera pushed through the swinging double doors that went out to the shop part of the building. “You just let me know if she’s causing you any trouble. She’s not too big to be bent over my knee.” Without so much as a glance back at me, or she would hav
e seen my mouth cocked and ready, she said, “Speak those words that are fixin’ to come out of that ornery mouth of yours and I’ll get the soap.”
I’d had an unfortunate encounter with a bar of soap once. It wasn’t of Vera’s doing, despite her years of threats. It’s a long story, but needless to say, it involved a shabby motel, a loose sink, and a juice box. A fo’ realz juice box with the stupid mini-straw, not J’uicy Boxx, the red-headed stripper from Birmingham, but I can see where that would have been a logical leap. Anywho, I zipped it, but kept the grin going as we moved out into the 10,000-square-foot shop and my one-time happy place.
Industrial grade machinery lined the perimeter, each its own neat workstation. The smell of sawdust mixed in the air, and I paused to take it in. My dad was a safety fanatic, which explained each station being end-capped with extra gloves, protective eyewear, and a plethora of cartoon-themed safety posters. Who said safety wasn’t fun? Me, a couple hundred thousand times as a teen. And maybe four times yesterday. Oh wait, there was the waffle iron incident—five. Oh, and the sword thing, six, but to be fair Danny was the one running with it. My dad’s efforts had paid off. Twenty-seven years in business, and he’d only had eight recorded incidents. I accounted for seven and a half of those; Stubby accounted for the half. I finger-waved at Stubs, he finger-waved minus a tip.
The door to the small corner office opened, and my father stepped out with Jose, his shop foreman. Jose had been with Dad for almost fifteen years now, ever since dad had caught Jose, as a teen, breaking into one of his job sites. Dad had come back late from a supply run to the city and wanted to check on the crew’s fireplace reassembly progress. Jose was attempting to pry open the back door when Dad rolled up. He assumed the kid was looking to vandalize the place or steal some tools or supplies to pawn. It was rare in the small town, but it had happened a couple times on job sites in the past.
Jose ran at the sight of the headlights, and Dad followed him wanting to get a description if something showed up missing. What he got instead was the discovery of a woman with a healing black eye, curled protectively around a crying, cold, and hungry three-year-old. They’d run out of money and gas after fleeing across two states from an abusive husband and father with only the car, thirty-six dollars and the clothes on their back. Jose explained that he had just been looking for blankets and food for his mother and sister. And just like that, our happy family grew by three more that day.
Maria, Jose’s mother, has been heading up dad’s finish crew for a good ten years now. She hires and leads a team of six women, all of similar backgrounds. Lucinda, Jose’s sister, has finished up her master’s degree and is headed to Washington, DC, to be part of the nation’s largest women’s advocacy organization.
Jose’s already wide smile cranked up a notch when he saw me and another notch when his eyes slid over to Ashlyn and then back to me. We did the intro, miss ya, how’s it going thing for a bit before one of the guys yelled out needing assistance. A quick nod and nice to meet you to Ashlyn, and he was off.
“How are my favorites?” Dad asked. “You have a good morning? You two take a ride in the countryside?”
“It was an amazing morning,” Ashlyn offered. “Your town and the lake …” Ashlyn laid a hand over her heart. “Simply beautiful.”
“We kind of like it,” Dad said with a wink. “Ready for some lunch?”
“Always,” I answered quickly.
“Vera?” Dad asked.
Vera waved him off. “I’ll keep things covered here; you all go and enjoy.”
“I appreciate you.”
Vera waved him off. “I know. I know.”
“Thought we’d go to CCs. Can I bring you back a slice of strawberry rhubarb? No wait, I’ll bring you a whole pie, I know you have your own company coming in tonight.”
Vera’s eyes went sparkly. “I do.”
There was only one person who did that to Vera. “Mia?” I asked.
“Yes. Maybe you two could catch up while you’re both here.” It wasn’t a question.
“I … yeah, I probably should explain …” I started again. “I mean I need to—”
“Yes you do,” Vera summed up my ramblings.
“How about we all do dinner tonight? It would be great to have the whole family together again,” Dad offered. When he got the “I don’t want to intrude” vibe from Vera, he added, “Dinner tonight or you take off tomorrow so you can spend time with Mia. Your choice.”
Vera narrowed her eyes, knowing she’d been had. “I’ll call Joy to see what I can bring.”
“Perfect. Call if you need anything.”
CC’s, not to be confused with the crappy Mexican place, but CC’s, short for Colleen’s Café, was my favorite place in the history of ever. A third-generation restaurant, CC’s, was known for its “World Famous Double-Fried Tenderloins.” That bears repeating. Double. Fried. Tenderloins. This thing is the size of your face, and I’m not talking some petite little face. I’m saying like Jay Leno’s face. Mega. And one more time just for fun and cholesterol ratings, double-fried. Translation: double the magic. Add peppery white gravy with a side of mashed potatoes and more gravy and I’m total donesy.
Double-fried tenderloins are one of the top five reasons I’m going to throw down hard in the upcoming apocalypse. My list you ask? 1. I’m still cranky about Lucifer’s assholiness to Six. 2. Saving the human race. Ten or fifteen humans in particular, a fallen angel, and one angel-demon toddler. 3. Double fried tenderloin with mashed potatoes and gravy. 4. Fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. 5. Just kind of seems like the right thing to do.
Lunch with Dad was reminiscent of many lunches we’d had, and bonus this go-around was Ashlyn sitting alongside me as we talked about his recent reno jobs. Something I’d pushed to the top of the convo pile, as I loved to see the light of excitement dance in his eyes when he talked about his work. Vera had finally made him update his flip phone, a life phase that had lasted eight years too long, to an iPhone. He still didn’t know how to text or do email on the thing, but he’d taken to the camera function with great enthusiasm. Ashlyn and I marveled over the images, all 1,276 of them. My dad and his crew were true artists. And I felt that all too familiar pang of pride with every swipe left. The feels must have radiated off me, because Ashlyn slid a comforting hand under the table to pat my leg. I handed the phone back to him. “Those are amazing. I couldn’t be more proud of you, Jose, and the crew.”
“You know …” He paused to thank the waitress that refilled our drinks. “I’m getting older …”
I knew where this was going. “Maybe. Someday,” I inserted before he really got going.
He looked at Ashlyn, “You two could settle down here.” Eyeballs on me. “Get that lake house you always wanted. We could build it. Together. It can be our thing—like old times.”
“I know you don’t understand, but …” I trailed off. How do you tell your dad, “Maybe if I live that long”?
Ashlyn took up the conversation. “I would love that. I’m in love with this town. I’m in love with you and Joy. Maybe we can talk about it, but we just need some time to tie up some loose ends first.”
And the understatement of the year award goes to …
Tears hit the edges of dad’s eyes. “You would seriously consider it?”
Ashlyn looked at me. “Would we seriously consider it?”
“We … I … I mean if you …”
“I would,” Ashlyn said.
I was going to say more. I mean the moment seemed like it could use more words, but before I could pull them from my brain, I was plucked from my side of the booth and swung around while my dad proudly announced his girls were coming home. There was applauding. There were cheers. There was mortification. I’ll let you assign verbs to the proper pronouns. Ashlyn got the same merry-go-round routine. Serves her right.
But if the wide smile was any indication, she didn’t think it was much of a punishment.
“So now, how many grandkids
can I expect?”
I was already shaking my head. “Nope. Nope, you can just hold up there, Turbo, we haven’t even …” I watched as Dad’s eyes tracked to Ashlyn and smiled. I side-eyed her. “I swear to god that better be a peace sign.”
“What?” Ashlyn offered all innocent traitor-like.
I assisted her wrist and attached hand and fingers to her lap. “Maybe we could just cap it at one life decision per meal?”
Ashlyn leaned into me, shooting my father and her new co-conspirator a wink. “I guess.”
Our conversation and baby-makin’ thoughts were forgotten as lunch was placed on the table. And it was a good five minutes before I resumed human communication patterns. “Dad, we were out at Granny and Granddad’s farm. Do you remember any of Granny Mattox’s stories she told?”
“I never got stories. I got chores. But I do remember you coming home from spending the day with her, talking about women warriors and this fantasy or that. You two hit it off from day one. She even came to the hospital when you were born and she barely came into town, let alone an hour to the city. She didn’t come to see me born, but with you … she demanded mother take her to see you.” He smiled. “I handed you to her while she sat in the hospital rocker and just wept. I’d never seen her cry before, never saw her cry again, not even when granddad died. But that day, when she rocked you, tears just ran down her face.”
“Probably just a girl thing, after having a son and a grandson,” I said.
“Maybe. But I think it was more than that.”
“Was she from around here too?” Ashlyn asked.
“No, actually her story is quite the mystery. She showed up in town one day, Granddad took a liking to her, got some grief over it, but he didn’t much care what anyone thought. They got married and they lived a quiet life out there on the S curve.”
“You don’t know where she came from?” I asked.
“Nope. She’d never talk about it. If you asked, she’d just say here and there. Granddad wouldn’t say either. He’d only say it was her business to tell, not his.”
