Sweat streamed down the sides of my face as I sat down in the grass next to Aubin. I swiped my forehead with my forearm, and decided now would be a great time for the clouds to move in and the skies to open.
“Just out for an invigorating afternoon jog on this lovely, ninety-degree afternoon?” Aubin asked. Wearing the same outfit he’d had on the first time I met him, he sat with his legs bent, his wrists resting on his knees. His walking stick lay in the grass next to him and a red Alabama ball cap shaded his eyes.
I pulled my ponytail up so the breeze could reach the back of my neck. The burning in my lungs was slowly starting to subside, but I’d have committed a felony right then and there for a drink of water. “I can’t believe anyone runs for fun. I was chasing … a cat,” I said, thinking it best to keep any mention of a blackbird appearance to myself. “A gray one.”
Aubin’s face flushed, and he began plucking blades of grass. His voice was tight when he said, “A cat. You don’t say.”
“You don’t like cats?”
“Not particularly. Especially gray ones.”
It seemed to me there was a story there, but I didn’t press. My gaze went to where the cat had been, but he was gone. That cat was amazing at quick getaways.
I let go of my hair and finally took notice of where we were. The gravestone at our feet belonged to Frances Camilla Pavegeau, loving wife and mother. Sympathy twisted through me, stirring emotions I’d rather not deal with. I hesitated to leave, since I’d been led here, but I wasn’t comfortable. “I should get going. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Aubin went back to plucking grass. “Sit awhile, Anna Kate. Let your breathing get back to normal at least. I don’t want you dying on my conscience. That dance card is full up.” He tossed a grass blade at the headstone.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. Even though it had been an accident, my mother suffered endlessly knowing she had been the one behind the wheel when my father died. I had the feeling that Aubin carried the same crushing culpability.
I bit back a half dozen questions that I ruled out as too personal or insensitive. Instead, I decided to switch topics altogether. “Thank you for the blackberry sweet tea recipe. I’ve started selling it at the café, and everyone’s loving it. Aubin’s Blackberry Tea.”
“You didn’t have to name it after me.”
“Of course I did. It’s your recipe. And because the recipe is yours, it’s not right for me to earn money from it, so I’m setting aside all profits to donate to Summer’s college fund. At this rate, she might have enough for the first installment of the tuition bill by the time I leave town. The rest, however…”
His fingers stilled mid-pluck. His eyes narrowed. “Tuition bill? Summer told me all the fees were covered with loans and scholarships.”
A bee buzzed by, landing on daisies set in a wide bronze vase in front of the gravestone. “She didn’t want to worry you. She didn’t get quite the amount of financial aid she planned on. She’s been saving, but doesn’t have enough.”
A gusty breeze blew through, and the maple branches groaned. I looked up but saw nothing but the silvery undersides of the leaves and gray clouds rolling in.
A storm was brewing.
He took off his cap, wiped his forehead, and put the cap back on. “Makes sense now why she’s been runnin’ herself ragged, taking on every odd job she can find.”
“Like I said, there should be enough money from the tea to help her out with the first payment.”
“I can’t see how selling tea is going to bring in enough money.”
I smiled. “You haven’t been by the café lately, have you?”
“I haven’t been there for twenty-five years.”
I doubted the timeframe was coincidental. “When my father died?”
He let out a deep breath and glanced around. “You know, way back when, AJ and I used to sneak out of our houses to come here at night to play hide-and-seek. Scared the ever-living tar out of each other. Some days I sit here and expect to hear his ‘Boo!’ from behind me. It would be just like him to haunt me like that. He was full of jokes and pranks.”
“He was?”
“Good Lord, yes. The best one? When he put a black rubber snake in his mama’s toilet. Had to peel Seelie off the ceiling. I’d have paid good money to see that.” He laughed. “AJ didn’t see the outside of his room for nigh on three weeks afterward.” His chest shook as he chuckled.
Smiling, I said, “If he’d done that to me, I’d have had a heart attack and died on the spot.”
“Same,” he said with a smile.
While I could sit and listen to stories of my father all day long, one thing was bothering me. “Why did you make it seem like you weren’t that close to my father when I asked about him a few weeks ago?”
Aubin’s hand clenched, released. “It’s complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it.”
“It doesn’t matter now, Anna Kate. It is what it is. I wasn’t much of a friend at the end. That tends to taint everything else. Talking isn’t going to change anything. I learned my lesson the hard way, changed some things about myself in turn, and I don’t care to go picking open old wounds.”
There was no mistaking the pain in his voice. “Seems to me, Mr. Pavegeau, that wound never fully healed.”
After a long pause, he plucked more grass and said, “I don’t want to talk about it all the same. Now, tell me how much money Summer needs.”
I bit back the urge to fight with him to get some answers. Not only because I wanted to know what had happened to cloud his relationship with my dad, but because I suspected it would do him some good to talk it out. Instead, I explained the payment plan and what Summer was up against.
He whistled sharply. “She’s always worrying about me. No one worries more than that girl. She needs to go off to school, learn to be her own person and not my caretaker. But I don’t see how we can afford it.”
Grass poked the underside of my thighs as I crisscrossed my legs. “I’m not ready to give up quite yet.”
He gave me a sad smile. “You’re a lot like your daddy. He was the optimistic sort too.”
“You say that like optimism is a bad thing.”
“Hope brings nothing but pain.”
I flicked a speck of dirt from my leg. “That’s a sad way to live life.”
“It’s been a sad life to live.”
We sat in silence a few minutes before he added, “I have some sticks I can sell.” He picked up his walking stick and rolled it in between his palms. “I can set up a roadside booth at the end of our driveway to sell our products. Honey, vegetables, soaps. Might as well take advantage of all these tourists passing through.”
“Speaking of them … How do you feel about boarders?” I asked, thinking of the idea I’d had for him to make quick money.
“Boarders? As in houseguests? I couldn’t. I like my privacy.”
“Boarders, as in paying guests. The birdwatchers need places to stay. The motel’s full. Others in town have started renting out spare bedrooms and are charging as much as forty to fifty dollars a night.”
His eyes flew open wide, and he tugged on his beard. “On second thought, I could probably stand some company. For Summer’s sake.”
Smiling, I said, “They’re not long-term guests. Most stay a night or two to see the blackbirds, then move on. But more people come in their place. It’s not forever, but short-term, there’s money to be had.”
His head bobbed. “I’d feel funny renting out the main house, but I do have a cabin in the back as well as an old hunting bunkhouse. The cabin has two small rooms, a kitchenette, a bathroom. Sleeps four. I’ve been using it for storage—stuff passed down from relatives that I can’t bring myself to get rid of. The bunkhouse sleeps six. It’s nothing fancy, so I probably can’t charge much for those beds, but it’s a place to sleep.”
“How soon can you clean it all out? With this rain coming in, the birders will need somewhere dry t
onight.”
“Few hours, at least. I need to pick up some supplies, wash sheets, and do some scrubbing.”
A trickle of excitement went through me that everything was going to work out just fine for Summer. “I’ll go back to the café and put the word out to everyone there. Then I’ll come over to help you get things ready. Many hands make quick work.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“No. I couldn’t let you.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “What would my daddy tell you to do? Because I’m betting he’d tell you to stop arguing with me and let me help.”
He wagged a finger. “You aren’t playing fair, pulling AJ into this.”
Smiling wide, I blinked innocently.
Groaning, he stood up and said, “Fine. You and your daddy’s smile win, Anna Kate. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
As I hustled back to the café, I thought of the gray cat leading me here. And my mother, too. I’d been thinking the reason was to rescue Aubin somehow or Summer.
But as the first raindrops fell, I couldn’t help thinking this meeting hadn’t been about them at all.
It had been about me.
19
“Sometimes you have to know when to give in. I mean, if he hasn’t come around by now, he never will. Am I right?”
The reporter stared at the marvel that was the woman’s hairdo. It looked a lot like white spun cotton candy. “Ma’am? I’m not sure if you’re aware that I’m writing an article about the blackbirds?”
Pebbles Lutz waved a hand of dismissal. Her color was high, her eyes glassy. “I never read that kind of stuff. I prefer romance novels, if you want the God’s honest truth. Birds.” She huffed. “Maybe I’ll give him one more chance. Just one, mind you. I have my pride to consider. Ain’t that so?”
Utterly perplexed, he said, “Yes, ma’am?”
“I think so too. Now, if you’ll be excusing me, I’m feeling a touch under the weather.” She patted his cheek as she passed by him. “You’re a nice man.”
He took a hand wipe out of his messenger bag, and as he wiped his face, the chair, and the table, he wondered what in the hell that had all been about.
Anna Kate
“I’m not happy, Miss Anna Kate.” Mr. Lazenby folded his arms over his chest and harrumphed.
Early morning sunshine poured in the café’s windows, and lingering raindrops sparkled on the glass. The storm the night before had blown through quickly, a blessing considering the roof on Mr. Pavegeau’s bunkhouse had a leak. It was nothing a bucket couldn’t deal with, but he’d vowed to get that hole patched today, and by the time I left last night, the birders staying with him were happy to be out of the weather.
It was a few minutes past eight and the café was packed. My hands and back ached from scrubbing wood floors at the Pavegeaus’, and I was trying to hide my disappointment that Gideon hadn’t come by this morning for coffee. In fact, he’d been absent a few days this past week.
I had been poised to take Mr. Lazenby’s order when he’d voiced his complaint. “Why aren’t you happy, Mr. Lazenby?”
His purple-and-silver-striped bow tie was askew, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “The pie I ate yesterday was broken.”
He sat at the end of the community table, in what I’d come to know as “his” seat. Pebbles sat across from him, Faylene to his right, and I’d made sure to seat Mr. Boyd, Sir Bird Nerd, next to her. If he was lonely, Faylene was the perfect seat companion, since I was certain she’d never met a stranger in her life. They were talking a mile a minute about the blackbirds. Well, Faylene was doing most of the talking, but Mr. Boyd was nodding every time she paused for breath.
“Broken?” I tipped my head. “How so?”
His rheumy eyes narrowed in accusation. “I didn’t get a dream last night.”
“Rosemarie probably didn’t have anything to say,” Pebbles said as she sipped her coffee. “Might could be she’s tired and wanted a night off from telling you what to do. All that talkin’ must be exhausting. Besides, notes aren’t guaranteed, Otis.”
He frowned at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. The pie was faulty.” He glanced up at me. “I’m not fixin’ to ask for a refund or nothing like that, but can you make sure I get a good piece of pie today?”
I knew there were mulberries in the apple pie he’d eaten yesterday, so there was only one conclusion I could come to. He hadn’t been in need of a message. “Pebbles is right, dreams aren’t guaranteed—they come only when there’s something to be said or something that needs to be heard.”
“Young lady, I have a hard time believing that Rosemarie suddenly has nothing to say after years of her telling me plenty. Uh-uh. No way. The pie was broken,” he insisted.
“Maybe it’s her silence that’s saying something.” Pebbles rubbed at the pink lipstick stain on her mug. “Did you ever think of that?”
Her white hair was stacked higher than usual today, and she wore a lightweight floral top that had a floppy bow tied at the neck.
“Like what?” he asked her. “What could her silence possibly tell me?”
“Like maybe it’s time to stop hanging on her every word and move on with your life?”
“Move on to what?” he asked. “I’m eighty-two years old.”
“So? Doesn’t mean life is over. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t find someone else to spend the rest of your years with. Maybe Rosemarie is trying to tell you it’s okay to keep on living.”
He snorted. “If she wanted to tell me that, she would have. If the pie wasn’t broken.”
“Lord love a duck!” Pebbles huffed, reached into her purse, and pulled out three singles. She dropped the money on the table, threw her napkin on her plate, and said, “I’ve lost my appetite.” With that she stood and stormed out of the café, stiff-arming the door on her way out.
Mr. Lazenby watched her go, then looked up at me and said, “I’ll be having scrambled eggs, sweet potato hash, two pieces of bacon, and a piece of pie that’s not broken.”
“You sure you don’t want to try a zucchini frittata?” I asked.
“No. I most certainly do not.”
I stifled a sigh as I jotted down his order. “Do you ever think you might be stuck in a rut, Mr. Lazenby?”
He set his napkin on his lap. “There’s nothing wrong with routine, Miss Anna Kate.”
I wasn’t so sure. It was the first time I questioned whether eating a daily piece of pie was emotionally healthy.
Sometimes, like Faylene had said, in order to move on you had to let go.
Mr. Lazenby was clinging to that pie for dear life.
“Anna Kate, I’ll take one of those frittatas,” Faylene said. “You’ve got me hooked on them. Simply delightful. I’ll also take a biscuit with sausage gravy, extra gravy.”
“Ooh,” Mr. Boyd said. “I’ll have the same. Faylene, have you tried the zucchini fries? Also delightful. Just the slightest hint of heat from the cayenne pepper.”
“I haven’t, but I do like a little fire. Care to split an order?” she asked, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “Maybe we can even get Otis to try one.”
“Hmmph.” Mr. Lazenby crossed his arms again.
“My treat,” Mr. Boyd said, nodding.
“Thank you kindly, sir.” Faylene looked up at me, a twinkle in her eye. “Order it up, please, Anna Kate.”
“Will do,” I said, turning toward the kitchen.
Jena moseyed over. “I still can’t get over the sight of Seelie Earl Linden walking through that there front door like it’s no big deal.”
I swung around. Sure enough, Seelie was taking the seat Pebbles had vacated. She eyed the napkin sitting on the plate in front of her with disdain.
Jena gave me a bump forward, toward Seelie. “Best go clear that setting before Seelie calls the health department about the lipstick on Pebbles’s mug.”
At my dark look, she laughed and went back to cutting biscuits.
&nbs
p; I smiled as I approached the table. “Let me get these dishes out of the way, Seelie, and I’ll be right back to take your order.”
Mr. Lazenby’s brows were furrowed as he said, “Pebbles might be coming back. We should save her seat.”
I picked up the plate and set the mug and silverware atop it. “If she comes back, I’ll find her another seat.”
“But that’s her seat.”
“Is something wrong?” Seelie asked.
“Not at all,” I said at the same time Mr. Lazenby said, “Yes.”
I pointed at him. “You, hush up, or I’ll slip a blueberry into your pie.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Try me.”
“What’s got your goat?” he asked. “Sheesh.”
“Seelie, you must try the frittata,” Faylene said. “It’s the special today, and Anna Kate outdid herself with that recipe. Zucchini, goat cheese, onion, fresh mint. Heaven.”
I said, “Really, the zucchini is the star. There’s two plants in the back that just keep giving and giving.”
“I’ll try the frittata, then. Thank you, Faylene, for the recommendation. Have you tried Anna Kate’s zucchini cheddar jalapeño biscuits? Some of the best savory biscuits I ever tasted.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen them on the menu…” Faylene picked up her reading glasses and looked around for a menu.
“I haven’t put them on the menu,” I said.
“You must put them on there, Anna Kate,” Seelie insisted. “Everyone would love them.”
“Oh, I know I would,” Faylene said.
Mr. Boyd nodded. “Me, too.”
Mr. Lazenby turned his plate ninety degrees and said, “Not me.”
“Maybe I’ll add them tomorrow,” I said. “The menu is already set for today.”
“I look forward to it.” Faylene slid her reading glasses on top of her head. “I’ve loved every single one of your new recipes, Anna Kate. Zee was a good cook, but you’re a great cook. One of the best. I’m going to miss your food something fierce when you leave us.”
Midnight at the Blackbird Cafe Page 24
