A Thousand Sunsets (Band of Sisters)

by Rice, Marianne

  Moody, on the other hand, was an intentional ass. At first, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was a decent guy underneath the wispy brown and gray hair, and lines which were more from frowns than laughs. But when his insults started to mirror the ones she’d heard so often from her parents, she lumped him in the same category as them.

  Once again, she let her mind roam to not so pleasant places. She really needed to work on her focus. Picking up the plate of lobster she’d already picked, she added chunks of the tail and claw to the cheesy casserole, making sure the most visually pleasing pieces were on top, and stuck it under the broiler while she plated the rest of the dinner. A minute later, she put a healthy—or rather, unhealthy—portion on four plates and drew out a fish with the ketchup bottle, placing the corn dog piggies next to them.

  The nine other students in class watched in earnest as Moody, Dumas, and two other chefs who were called in to judge, sat on stools behind the butcher block counter.

  One by one each student was called on as the chefs sampled the dishes and asked questions about the seasoning choices.

  When it was Charlie’s turn, she took a step forward and folded her hands in front of her. She wasn’t nervous. The culinary degree was a piece of paper. The chefs were people sampling her food. It was all subjective. If someone didn’t care for cheese, she was doomed. If someone disliked lamb, Dean wouldn’t score well.

  Life was too short to take too seriously. If the culinary thing didn’t pan out, she’d find something else to do with her life. In the meantime, she had a job for the summer and a sexy contractor to fantasize about.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never seen a menu like this as one of the final exams,” judge Linda said.

  “Thank you.” Charlie wasn’t one to over-analyze people or comments. Linda didn’t say it was bad so why worry about her comment?

  “It’s not as sophisticated as some of the others,” Moody commented.

  “Well, then. It’s a good thing sophisticated wasn’t mentioned in the instructions or on the rubric.” She beamed at the arrogant asswipe and gave Linda a mental high five when she chuckled.

  “Is this a fish?” Dumas asked, swiping the little weenie through the ketchup.

  “Yup. My menu was designed for kids. The fish was a fun little embellishment since parsley or expensive sauces would be wasted on them.”

  “It’s cute,” this from Linda.

  “Cute isn’t going to satisfy palettes.” Leave it to asswipe to turn a compliment into an insult.

  “To be fair, Ms. Kellar said her menu was geared towards children. Shouldn’t we judge it based on its intended purpose?”

  Ah! So, Dumas wasn’t as dumb as he made himself out to be.

  “True, but we don’t want to encourage our students to serve us a bowl of Cheerios and mashed bananas with the lame excuse their menu is for toddlers.”

  Charlie would have leaped over the counter and throat-punched Moody had the other judges not come to her defense.

  “Nearly all restaurants nowadays have a kid’s menu. And didn’t you say your intent was to work at a children’s camp?” Sarah, the quiet judge on the end pointed her fork at Charlie.

  “Correct. I’m one of the co-founders of Camp Illumination and will be running the kitchen, menu, and shopping all summer. I plan on having kid-friendly themes, as well as hosting summer programs for children with food allergies. Over the past year I made many sample menus based on different food allergies.”

  “That’s very commendable. I’ll have to look into your camp for my son. He’s nine and is lactose intolerant.” Linda was her new favorite.

  “I wish I had known. I would have made a dairy free mac and cheese.”

  “I would love to try it. Tell me what you’ve added in this dish.”

  Charlie rattled off her proportions of nutmeg, white pepper, butternut squash—her favorite way to sneak veggies into food—and explained the corn dog piggie masterpiece.

  When they were done sampling Charlie’s food, she stepped back in line and waited while the judges drilled the rest of the students about their menu and recipes. After they went through the line, the judges dismissed the students to go back and clean up their stations while scores were tallied.

  When the last dish was dried and put away, Moody came over to her and scowled.

  “I hope you take your culinary career more seriously than you did your final.” He handed her an envelope and walked off to the next student.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Patterson project was like the song that never ended. He hated those preschool songs Livy made him listen to over and over and over again. What was worse was when she made him sing along with her.

  Owen tossed the last of his tools in the bed of his truck and closed the tailgate with a silent chuckle. Climbing behind the wheel, he fastened his seatbelt and started the ignition, grateful for Def Leppard coming out of his speakers instead of Barney or Sesame Street or whatever it was Livy used to crank through his stereo.

  She loved listening to music and had even convinced their mother to get a cheap radio for the kitchen at the diner. They kept it tuned into easy listening or light rock music. Not necessarily his favorites, but he appreciated it over toddler tunes.

  There were a handful of times when he overheard Charlie and Brooke singing from the kitchen while he worked on reconstructing the mess hall. They both had terrible voices, but their laughter had made up for it.

  If he hadn’t seen the other side to Charlie—a woman who could sing off-key and not care who was listening, a woman who would give up her summer to work at a camp for needy children, a woman who fought for our country for over a decade—he’d have shot her advances down months ago.

  She wasn’t overly-forward. It wasn’t like she tried to cop a feel or solicited her body to him. They flirted, her more than him, and he would have pursued her months ago had he not an impressionable younger sister to care for.

  Livy spent enough time at his house on the weekends to make adult sleepovers a no-go. Since his mother opened up the diner at the crack of dawn and Owen didn’t like Livy being home alone, even with the diner so close, he often had his sister bunking in his spare bedroom on Friday and Saturday nights.

  She’d come with him to the job sites on Saturdays, or he’d drop her off at the diner on his way to work if there wasn’t a good, safe place for her to hole up for the day. On Sundays, since their mom would be at the diner open, he and Livy would hang out.

  One of the many reasons why his house was still falling apart. He felt guilty working on it with Liv there. She loved to talk his ear off and wanted to be by his side while he worked. She was bored out of her mind when he had to work on Saturdays, so he felt like a jerk making her do more of the same on a Sunday.

  And he wasn’t about to use the TV as a babysitter. Her childhood would have no similarities to his, even if it meant he’d have to go without.

  Without a repaired house. Without a social life. Without a woman. There’d be time for all of that after Livy was old enough to fend for herself.

  Six more years. Maybe five if she turned out to be a responsible teenager.

  Glancing at the clock on his dash, he figured he had barely enough time to stop in to see his sister before she went to bed. Early to bed and early to rise had been their way of life since birth. Their mother got to the diner by five to start the grills and prep for the early morning rush while Olivia either stayed home alone or dragged her tired little body to one of the booths to catch another hour of sleep before school.

  He’d done the same when he was her age. It wasn’t an ideal way of life, but their sleepy town was small and quaint, and everyone knew each other. Secrets were hard to keep but some were better at it than others. Nellie McDougall was a professional. She didn’t even know truth from fiction anymore.

  Owen pulled up behind his mother’s fifteen-year-old Toyota and made his way to the front door. Not much had changed over the years. The small r
anch-style home had held up despite the events that had happened inside.

  If walls could talk.

  He knocked on the front door before turning the handle and stepping inside. The television was on in the cramped living room, but it didn’t mean his mom or Livy were still up. Picking up the remote off the aging coffee table, he turned the TV down and headed toward the kitchen.

  Not much larger than the living room, the counter was clean—as always—and only the light above the sink shone. It was oddly quiet in the house.

  “Mom? Livy?”

  “I’m in my room,” his sister called from down the hall.

  Owen passed by the bathroom, still in need of a makeover. The blue linoleum flooring had been in rough condition fifteen years ago when he’d moved out, as had the shower tile. He’d put his mother’s bathroom repairs higher on his list of projects than his own house and he still hadn’t had time to get to them.

  Hopefully this coming winter.

  He saw Livy’s open door and peeked in. She was dressed in her favorite pink flamingo pajamas he bought for her one day while shopping with her at Target and was laying on her stomach on her bed making a bracelet with the beads he got her for Christmas last year.

  “Getting ready for bed?”

  “I’m ready. Just waiting for Mom.”

  “What’s she doing?” He took a seat on the edge of her twin bed. It dipped under him and her container of beads almost tipped over. “Sorry.” He reached out to hold them steady.

  “She’s out with a friend. Told me not to wait up and to go to bed at a decent hour.”

  This was new, their mother having a social life. What bothered him more was her leaving her ten-year-old daughter home alone.

  “Did she say who she was going out with?”

  Livy shrugged and continued stringing her beads like it wasn’t uncommon for their mother to be out at night.

  “Did she say when she’d be home?”

  “No. But she said she wouldn’t be happy if I wasn’t asleep when she got back.”

  Which meant she’d planned on staying out late, leaving Livy home alone with no way to contact anyone in case of an emergency.

  Ten-year-olds shouldn’t need cell phones but they also shouldn’t be left home alone to care for themselves either. He’d make time tomorrow to get his sister one. She didn’t need a fancy smartphone but something she could call or text him with.

  “Want to have a sleepover at my house?” He hadn’t even been home yet to shower or had time to figure out anything for dinner, but she’d most likely already eaten.

  “I don’t mind staying home alone.”

  Of course she wouldn’t. She didn’t have any fears. Didn’t know the cruelty of the world and he’d like to keep her ignorance to the cruelty for as long as possible.

  “Well,” he said, picking up a purple bead from the tray. “Sometimes I get bored being home by myself.”

  “No, you don’t. You always say how you wish you had more time to spend at your house.”

  Too smart, this one. He tossed the bead back and stretched across her bed, pinning himself to the wall so he wouldn’t knock the beads over.

  “Maybe I’ll take a nap here.” He didn’t have to force the yawn that came out as he rested his hands behind his head.

  “You’re going to sleep in my bed?”

  Owen closed his eyes and pretended to snore.

  “Hey.” She whacked his belly with a giggle, and he gasped, jackknifing himself to a sitting position and knocking the beads on the floor.

  “Shit. Sorry.” He scrambled to the end of the bed and dropped to his knees scraping the stained and tattered gray rug in a poor attempt to gather the colorful beads.

  “You swore,” she giggled again.

  “You punched me in the stomach.”

  “You spilled my beads.”

  “Like I said, you punched me in the stomach.”

  “I barely hit you. You’re turning into a girl,” she teased.

  Owen paused and dropped the beads in the tray. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Girls aren’t as strong as boys. Except for Charlie and her friend Brooke. Did you know they were in the Army? They were soldiers and shot bad guys.”

  He knew all right, and it made him appreciate Charlie more than he could afford to. He didn’t have time to think about a woman, much less have one in his life.

  “Exactly my point. Don’t put yourself or other women down by implying they’re inferior to men. You can do and be anything you want to be, Livy. I want you to have dreams. Big dreams, and I’ll be there to help you and support you in whatever you want to do. Don’t limit yourself, okay?”

  She furrowed her brow and scrunched her lip at him. “What are you talking about?”

  Okay, so he may have gotten a little carried away with his speech.

  “I want you happy, peanut.” He tweaked her nose and continued picking up the spilled beads. When they were all put away, he set the tray on her dresser and helped her off the floor. “Did you brush your teeth yet?”

  “No.” She let out a dramatic sigh and dragged herself across the hall to the bathroom.

  He didn’t want to worry her so when she was done, he picked her up and flipped her upside down before plopping her on the bed.

  “My fridge is empty so I’m going to hang out here for a bit and make myself something to eat.”

  It was true. He had no food at his house, but his reason for staying here had nothing to do with that.

  “Mom says you would starve if it wasn’t for her and my cooking.”

  “Probably true.” He pulled the covers over her head and kissed her cheek through the blanket. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He lightly pinched her sides and her legs as he left the room, shutting the light off behind him.

  His appetite was ruined with worry, but he opened the fridge anyway, more as something to occupy him while he waited for his mother to get home.

  He had time to warm up a plate of chicken pot pie, eat it, wash his dish, and watch an hour of senseless television before lights shone in the front of the house.

  “Where were you?” he demanded of his mother as he whipped the front door open.

  “Owen. What are you doing here?” She snapped her head back as the lights from the vehicle that dropped her off backed out of the driveway.

  His truck was in the driveway so his appearance shouldn’t have been such a shock to her. It was the person in the car she didn’t want him to see.

  “Who was that?”

  “Can I come into my own house?” She pushed past him and into the kitchen, dropping her purse on the counter. She rested her hip against the kitchen sink as she slid off her shoes.

  Dress shoes. He’d never seen her in anything but sensible thick-soled sneakers. She wore tan pants and a button-down blouse. Compared to her usual attire of jeans, sneakers, and Black Fly Diner shirts, it was like a Cinderella makeover.

  “You left Olivia all alone.”

  “She’s good about falling asleep when she needs to.” She took a glass down from the cabinet and filled it with water from the sink.

  “You’re telling me this isn’t the first time you’ve left her alone?”

  “What’s gotten into you? I did the same when you were ten. Besides, I wasn’t far.”

  She’d left him alone at a lot younger than ten. At the time, he was grateful for the solitude. It beat the alternative.

  “It’s different with a girl.” His conversation with Livy earlier tonight came back to him. He still meant what he said. Women could do anything a man could do, but it didn’t mean they didn’t need more looking after, especially at Livy’s age.

  “She’s a lot like you, you know. Wise beyond her years.”

  Yeah, he knew too well, which was why he worked so hard to keep her young. She shouldn’t have to bear the responsibilities of an adult before she was even a teenager.

  “If you knew you had plans you could have called
me. I would have come over or brought Livy to my place. I don’t like her staying alone so much, especially at night.”

  The shadow that crossed over his mother’s face disappeared as quickly as it came. They didn’t bring up the past as long as it stayed there. In the past.

  “I’m a fifty-six-year-old single woman. I’m allowed to have a social life. And so are you. It would do you some good to do something besides work and hover around.”

  “Hover?” He reached behind and grabbed the back of his neck in an attempt to stay calm. “I don’t hover,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’m taking care of my sister because...”

  Biting back his anger, he took a deep breath and walked away. Having an argument with his mother right now wouldn’t change anything. This was what she did, who she was.

  While the socializing on a Wednesday night was new—he thought—abandoning her children was not. He couldn’t change her, but he could be there for Livy, and he’d be there for his mom as well, if she wanted him. She needed him, but she didn’t want him. Same with Livy, which was why he worked so damn hard to make sure she felt not only needed and wanted, but loved as well.

  He crossed the living room in four angry strides and stopped at the front door. “Please call me the next time you go out. I’d be more than happy to watch Olivia.” He closed the door softly behind him and waited until he pulled into his driveway before letting out a string of curses.

  THE PAST TWO WEEKENDS she’d been too busy to obsess much about Owen... or Olivia. The opening weekend at the camp had been a bigger success than she and her sisters could possibly imagine, keeping her straight out busy every second of every day.

  Between the support from the community and the campers’ families, and the labor Brooke had put into it all, the camp ran like a well-oiled machine. In another two weeks, when most schools were out for the summer, they’d have their first week-long camp. That’s when the fun would really begin.

  It was nice working side-by-side with her friends, especially Gina. Seeing a smile on her face again after all she’d been through made latrine duty worth it. Almost. Well, real close. Gina had been through the worst kind of tragedy and was only now starting to show signs of her gorgeous self again.