Hair Calamities and Hot Cash.

by Gail Pallotta

  Lloyd ambled over and shook Philip’s hand. “That car still working for ya’?”

  “It’s humming like a songbird.” Philip kept a straight face.

  Lloyd slapped his knee, tilted his head back, and laughed. “Eve, he’s all right.”

  Was Lloyd giving his approval for me to see Philip? Was it that obvious that he’d awakened a yearning inside me? My heart skipped a beat for all the pain it would cause when Philip left. I had to stop seeing him before the ache would be too much to bear, and to think, I’d just invited him to my home.

  Lloyd ran his hand through his hair. “The part for the car I’m repairin’ should get here next week. As soon as I have it, we’ll get ‘er fixed.”

  “It could be a month before I leave.” Philip’s grin spread across his face.

  He must’ve liked the idea of staying here a while, but in thirty days he’d be gone, and I’d never see him again. What was I thinking? Heaviness formed in my chest. Then a bell rang in my head. There’d be no commitment for either of us. That meant no betrayal of Jordan and no guilt. I deserved a few nights of fun, didn’t I?

  “We’ll have it for ya’ for sure by then.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You bet.” Lloyd took a step to my side of the booth and tapped my shoulder. “Hang in there, Eve. Pete and Charlie will make your place as good as new.” He headed to the back and Bonnie Sue set our steaming plates on the table.

  Philip bit into his lunch, his mouth half grinning as he chewed. “Hmm. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a burger this good.”

  “I guess I take them for granted, ordering one anytime I want.”

  “Triville should be known for the country’s best chili cheeseburger,” Philip said.

  “I don’t know about that. If we wanted to give it the title we’d have to go to every community in the United States and eat chili cheeseburgers.”

  Philip sat back in his chair and laughed. “We should do that.”

  What a frivolous thing to say. We didn’t have enough time to travel to even a few nearby places before he returned to New York. Triville wasn’t real to him. I wasn’t real to him. I slumped in my seat, blinking my eyelids, squeezing back the tears rushing to my eyes.

  He ate his last French fry. “I hate to leave when I’m having so much fun, but I have work to do.” He left Bonnie Sue a five-dollar tip, stood, and picked up the bill.

  I rose from my seat, and we went to the cash register. My head knew he’d leave for good one day. How could I let my heart ignore it?

  In what seemed only moments we went outside and got in the car. We sailed down the hill and level roads leading to my house, and Philip escorted me to the door. He pushed back a tendril of hair on my forehead. Lightly etching the side of my face with his hand, he placed his soft lips on mine. His breathing increased and joy fell over me while my heart beat next to his. He pulled away and stroked my cheek.

  “See you later, gorgeous.” He turned and headed toward the car, leaving my mind longing for one more moment of happiness before I stopped this relationship that never could be.

  I hurried to the kitchen and pulled Aunt Rose’s instructions for beef tips over rice from a book with a tattered red cloth cover and papers sticking out of it at odd angles. Perfect, but I had to allow time for the beef to marinate. I laid down the handwritten notes and tore out to the car.

  After a quick trip to the grocery I returned and stood at my counter top with a sirloin tip roast and my chef’s knife. I chopped the meat into bite-sized pieces, and set it aside. Aunt Rose’s secret sauce made the entree melt in one’s mouth. I added it and placed the dish in the fridge.

  Music rang out from the radio as I polished my silver tray and arranged cheese and crackers on it. The clock ticked to four, and I danced around the room while I waited for Aunt Rose’s concoction to finish its magic. I hadn’t done that in ages, but the steps, the joy came back to me. The song ended, and I pulled out the seasoned delicacy.

  I dipped juicy looking cubes of meat from the dripping liquid and browned them and the onions. To wrap up the meal, I poured in the remaining marinade, turned the burner to low, and prepared rice. Now for an elegant setting.

  I retrieved a blue-checked tablecloth and napkins from the linen chest. They blended with the border on the plates my grandmother gave me. Only the centerpiece was missing. I marched into the kitchen and snatched the arrangement of dogwood blossoms in the blue vase from the windowsill in front of the sink. Then I plunked it down on the dining room table and placed blue candles on either side of it. Looked like New York to me.

  ~*~

  The doorbell rang.

  “Hi, I’m so glad you could come.” I pointed toward the den. “Have a seat.”

  Phillip sank down on the sofa, and I left the room. My heart danced as I brought in a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “I’ll be right with you.” I returned to the kitchen and came back with two big glasses of sweet tea.

  Philip sipped his drink. “Umm. Good.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” I joined him, picked up a cheese cracker, and munched it. “Did you have any trouble getting here?”

  “No, I didn’t have to climb a hill.” He snickered.

  “Maybe it won’t be long until Lloyd has your rent-a-car repaired.”

  “Pff. That car’s fun to drive. Now I admit, at first I worried it might quit on me, but it doesn’t appear to be a problem.” Philip set his glass on the coaster.

  I wanted to ask if he’d visit Triville after he snagged Mr. Jacobsen’s account, but the words stuck in my throat. “I’m sure running around these hills in that vehicle has been quite an experience.”

  Philip chuckled. “One I won’t easily forget.”

  Would he remember the times we’d shared here? “You’ll have lots of memories—crashing into a beauty shop, driving a clunker that keeps humming in spite of itself, and of course, there’s Mr. Jacobsen.” A twinge of pain pricked my heart when I said Mr. Jacobsen’s name. Once Philip met him and secured his business, there’d be no more memories for him and me.

  “All good. At least, I hope Mr. Jacobsen and I will get along and our meeting will go well.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  “So, you don’t cook much on Sundays.”

  Aunt Rose’s beef tips hardly could pass for a simple dish. At the same time, I didn’t want Philip to know how much I yearned to impress him. “After you left, a recipe that’s been in my family for years popped in my head, and I couldn’t resist.”

  “It smells delicious.” Philip tapped the rim of his tea glass. “I’ll have this with dinner if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. I already placed fresh ones on the dining room table. Sounds as if you’re ready to eat.”

  “With the aroma wafting in here it’s hard not to be.”

  “Let’s go.” I smiled and floated on his compliment as I guided him to the home-cooked meal. The quiet room and centerpiece lent an intimacy Bob’s Diner lacked. I scooted in the seat across from Philip and fanned my face from the warmth pulsing from my heart. Did Philip experience it too?

  “Should I say grace?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Philip said a blessing then picked up his fork and scooped up a bite of rice.

  I’d stuffed in so many meals by myself at the kitchen table. Looking at him seemed like an illusion.

  Philip speared a forkful of beef tips. “Hmm. This is so good.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you enjoy cooking gourmet dishes?”

  It’d been fun preparing this one because he was coming to dinner. “I like it fine when I have time, and I’m in the mood.”

  “You must have been in the mood today. This is great.”

  Heat rushed to my face, not at the praise, but at the affection in his voice. Was I reading more into it than he meant? His searching gaze told me I wasn’t. Who’d have thought someone like Philip would turn up in this little mountain town and have a meal in my hou
se?

  “Is this a secret recipe?” Philip wiggled his eyebrows when he said the word secret.

  “It’s my great Aunt Rose’s special marinade.”

  Philip placed his napkin on the table. “It was incredible.”

  I carried our plates to the kitchen and brought in homemade brownies and coffee. I’d never entertained a date in this house. Jordan loved my cooking, but we were married when we built our home. Now there was an attractive man from New York in my dining room, and he wasn’t just any man. He drew me into him as though he’d cast a spell over me. I hardly could believe this evening was real.

  Philip popped a sweet treat in his mouth. “Umm.” He picked up his coffee cup and sipped.

  “When will you go back to New York?” I made polite conversation, but my words sent an ache to my chest.

  “As soon as I finalize things with Mr. Jacobsen.”

  Finalize! I couldn’t do this. I had to stop seeing him.

  He pushed aside his dessert plate. “That was delicious—beyond words.”

  “Thank you.” I picked up our dishes and carried them to the kitchen as he wandered into the den. I set them down then joined him.

  A hairstylist magazine I hadn’t noticed earlier when I’d brought in the hors d’oeuvres lay next to him on the sofa. A fine, distinguished man like Philip sitting next to a periodical with pictures of hairdos. My face grew hot. I’d been so busy setting the stage for my New York act I’d left a piece of the real me lying around.

  He picked it up and flipped a few pages. “Some of these styles are pretty wild.”

  I snatched it from him and sat down. “I’m sorry I don’t have a news magazine.”

  “That’s OK. I’d rather look at you.” He pulled me close.

  Snuggling into his chest I found a safe, comfortable place and yearned to stay there. He ran his finger down my cheek, his tender touch melting my heart. His lips brushed against mine, and I put my arms around his neck. My emotions twirled.

  He released me and touched the tip of my nose with his forefinger. “How did you get so cute?”

  My stern will to resist his charms turned to mush. “You’re not bad yourself.”

  “Then you might say ‘yes’ if I asked you to go to the Western Hills Festival with me tomorrow. I saw an article about it in the paper. It looks interesting.”

  “Sure. That’ll be fun.” Had I really said those words? It would be rude to back out, and I didn’t want to, but each time I saw Philip I gave him another little piece of my heart.

  “I should go and turn in. I’ll pick you up around eleven o’clock.”

  He stood, and I escorted him to the entrance. He gave me a peck on the lips then opened the door and disappeared into the night.

  I locked up and leaned against the wall like a moonstruck teenager. One day he’d go out for good. My plan not to see him seemed so simple until I was with him. By agreeing to go with him tomorrow and kissing him goodnight I’d dug a deeper hole for my emotions to fall into. Tomorrow I’d stand firm and end this once and for all.

  7

  The sun shone on two bread slices with turkey, provolone, lettuce, and tomatoes generously stuffed between them. Two sodas sat beside them on the white kitchen counter. Tin foil rattled and a sweet aroma wafted up as I wrapped leftover brownies.

  I picked up the sandwiches and sweet treats, placed them in a picnic basket, and snapped the lid. The doorbell rang, and I hung the carrier on my wrist, stuffed the drinks into a small cooler, and trekked to the door.

  “Hi, thanks for bringing our lunch. After last night I know whatever’s in there is good.” Philip’s lips turned up on the corners as he reached out and took items from me.

  “You’re welcome. The restaurants in New York must have lots of delicious dishes.” I headed toward the old car with New York on my mind. I’d told myself before this day ended I’d gather my nerve and let Philip know I couldn’t see him again. When I was with him so much joy surrounded me I forgot life’s harsh realities, especially the one in which he’d leave and break my heart. I had to stand firm.

  “Not as good as the ones I’ve eaten here.”

  Philip placed our lunch in the car’s backseat. I peered at the sheet of plastic covering my shop window and the part of the wall missing the bricks. I breathed deep trying to overcome the helplessness sinking into my pores. I’d left a key under a big rock beside the door in case Pete and Charlie showed up. They had to.

  Philip let me into the car and I stiffened as he took the driver’s seat. Would the old vehicle take us to the festival? She grunted and groaned winding up the mountain road but lived up to the task.

  I motioned toward the first picnic station under the shade of oak and sycamore trees by the river. “Stop there. It’s probably past your lunchtime.”

  “No argument. I plead hungry.” Philip pulled onto the parking area beside a patch of emerald green grass and two mountain laurel bushes and cut the engine. We eased out of the car, and I set the wicker basket on the seat attached to the table.

  English sparrows flew from it and scattered as I unlatched the top of the container. The loose hinges on the lid wiggled when I opened it. I pulled out the red and white checked tablecloth, and a mountain breeze carrying the scent of moist, fresh earth blew by and furled it. I whipped it in place, added the napkins, and plopped the basket on it as an anchor.

  Philip swatted at a fly.

  Nothing would interrupt this perfect picnic. I’d keep it in my memory forever. I pulled out a citronella candle and lit it. “Would you like to say a blessing?”

  “Sure.”

  We bowed our heads.

  “Our Heavenly Father, thank you for this beautiful day and for time to relax. Thank you for Eve who prepared this food. Bless it to the nourishment of our bodies. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”

  Philip rubbed his hands together and wiggled his eyebrows. “Now to eat.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “I’ve never dined next to a river flowing at ground level.”

  Crystal clear water babbled over rocks in the riverbed lined with white trillium and wild pink azaleas. Salamanders and trout swam downstream and a frog croaking mixed with tweets from the birds in the distance. I soaked in nature’s bounty and stress rolled off me like raindrops.

  “Some people drink from it. They claim the stream rushes too fast for lizards, snakes, and such to contaminate it, and there aren’t any pollutants up here.”

  “I’d like a few sips from the spring. Is that it spurting from those two boulders?” Philip pointed upstream to the other side of the river.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Yes. That’s where the water comes from.”

  We finished eating, cleaned the table, and hiked up the narrow trail that wound through underbrush and wild flora. Sticks crunched underneath our shoes and leaves rustled until we stood on the riverbank facing the spring on the opposite side.

  Philip tilted his head and stared at the water. “Do we wade over?”

  “We can walk. See.” I motioned toward the stones stretching across the water.

  “Wouldn’t we be better off wading? We might fall.”

  Obviously, Philip hadn’t grown up near the great outdoors. I put my hand on my hip. “Well, yeah, if you plan on slipping.”

  Philip bit his bottom lip as though he thought better of his suggestion to drink from the spring. Even if he did, he’d cart himself across that river. He didn’t seem the type of man to back down. “OK, you’re right. We’ll go one at a time. Usually it’s ladies first, but I’ll let you choose.”

  I’d crossed here many times. If I led the way, he could follow my path. The last thing I wanted him to do was misstep and take a tumble. “I’ll go.”

  I grabbed a low-hanging branch on an oak tree and leapt to the first rock. Balancing with my arms I trod the short distance to the second. One wide stride took me to the slab on the other side in front of the spring. I peered over my shoulder.

  Philip stood on stone number two. Se
cure on the large boulder, I turned around and waved him over. “Come on.”

  He bounded over and landed right beside me. He flashed a grin so big it looked as though it might crack his cheeks. We stood for a moment then bent down and scooped up handfuls of natural spring water.

  “It’s so beautiful here.” Philip swung his arm toward the river. Then, he pulled me close and I melted into his arms. He brushed his lips against mine then deepened his kiss. I swirled with the roar of the waterfall. Cool, moist droplets splashed onto us from the cascade, and I rose like the swell of the river and floated to a place I’d never been.

  He released me and took my hand. “This is the best part of the Western Hills Festival.” He looked at the surroundings then me. “I would offer to carry you across but...”

  He’d already transported me where I never intended to go. “Go ahead. I’m right behind you.”

  Stepping carefully, we reached dry ground. Philip leaned over, picked up several pebbles, and skipped them across the rippling water. The joy he brought and the pain his leaving would cause sent my emotions crashing faster than the current. Had he experienced the swell of the river? Did he want it to never end?

  He brushed off his palms and clasped my hand as we strolled to the old car. A short drive took us to a stoneware display. We got out and proceeded to a woman with short, curly black hair seated at a pottery wheel. A mound of clay spun around and around on the throwing device while she touched the vessel with both hands shaping it. The sun glinted off one of the finished pieces, and it caught my eye. An iris that looked as though it grew on the side of a vegetable bowl with a royal blue band testified to the artist’s talent.

  Philip smiled at her. “I’ve never watched pottery in progress before. Thank you for demonstrating.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We left and drove to a parking space farther into town. A wooden replica of a pioneer woodsman dressed in buckskin holding a rifle stood guard over a two-story inn. I studied the long tail on his fur cap as we got out of the old vehicle. It appeared a coyote had donated its skin.