This crazy woman he didn’t remember at all. Maybe when he heard her name...
Daisy moved toward the house with her offerings. Jacob stayed close behind her. “Yes, I suppose he does look like his grandfather. But now, that’s not his fault, is it? It’s not his fault that he’s a Tasker, either. There’s not a thing he can do about the name he was born with.” Standing on the bottom step, now, too damn close to the shotgun, Daisy turned to him. “Jacob, this is Vivian Reynolds.” She looked up again. “Miss Vivian, be nice to Jacob and I’ll braid your hair.”
The old woman sighed as if being nice to a Tasker was going to be a great sacrifice, but she did finally nod and head across the porch and into the house. Jacob sighed himself when they stepped into the house and the Reynolds woman set her shotgun aside, leaning it into a corner near the front door. “Can’t be too careful when you live out in the boonies on your own.”
Jacob glanced around the living room, which was clean and nicely furnished, though none of the furnishings were new. There were knickknacks, but not too many. An older television with a single recliner in front of it. A small bookcase filled with paperback books.
A smallish dog came running from the back of the house. A bundle of hairy energy, the brown dog danced and sniffed around one visitor and then the other, then finally returned to the feet of his mistress. They were a matched, scruffy pair, both of them in serious need of more care than a little time with Daisy would provide.
“Why do you stay out here all alone?” Jacob asked. “Wouldn’t you be better off living in town?”
The shotgun-toting woman turned an evil eye on him. “Well, ain’t you the nosy one?”
“Sorry. But you did mention being careful because you live out in the boonies on your own.”
She huffed, and when she moved her head her wild white hair danced. “If I could afford to move, sonny, I would’ve done it years ago. This house is paid for, the land is mine. It’s all my sorry excuse for a husband left me when he passed, near twenty years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sorry that he’s dead, or sorry that he didn’t leave me a pot to piss in?”
Jacob wondered if it was too late to head outside and wait in the car. Ninety-plus degrees and sunny, it was still not a bad idea. Nothing he said was right. “Both, I suppose.”
Daisy directed Mrs. Reynolds to the chair in front of the television, which was dark, and slipped out of the room. Jacob was tempted to follow her, or else excuse himself and wait outside in the heat.
Vivian pierced him with a glare. “So, Eunice is your grandmother.”
“Yes, she is. Do you know her?” Jacob racked his brain, but he had no memory of the Reynolds’ family. He couldn’t recall ever hearing the name Vivian Reynolds.
“I do. Is she still a conniving, backstabbing bitch?”
“Miss Vivian!” Daisy said, as she returned to the room with a brush in one hand and a handful of bobby pins in the other. “What a thing to say.”
“I’m old enough to speak the truth when it suits me,” she argued, settling back in her chair as she awaited the brush. She closed her eyes and looked almost content as Daisy began to brush out the tangles. It wasn’t an easy job.
“Have you been using that conditioner I gave you?” Daisy asked.
“Now and then.”
“Every time you wash your hair, use it,” Daisy instructed firmly.
“All right, all right, if you insist.” Vivian puckered her lips. “Like anyone cares what I look like. Hell, like anyone’s going to see.” She looked down at her dog. “Buster doesn’t care if my hair is tangled or not.”
Jacob glanced around the room. The only pictures displayed were two snapshots of a young Vivian and a handsome man who had a rough look about him. No pictures of children or grandchildren. No smiling photos of family and friends. Did she have no family or had she chased them all away?
“I see,” Daisy said, “and so do the volunteers who come by on Wednesday and Friday. You know I would be happy to take you to the grocery store instead of bringing your groceries in, and when you need to see Doc Porter there are always people in the waiting room. If you’d start coming back to church you’d see all kinds of people.”
“Last time I was at church that dirty old man George Hayes made a pass at me.”
Daisy laughed. “He asked you out for ice cream and offered you a ride home.”
“Like he didn’t expect something in return,” Vivian muttered under her breath.
Jacob wouldn’t allow himself to smile. With his luck the old woman would pick that precise moment to open her eyes.
“I do hope you’re not sleeping with this...this Tasker.” Vivian didn’t wait for a response. “First of all, you deserve better than a Tasker. And secondly, no man is going to buy the cow when he can get the milk for free.”
Daisy sounded calm as she replied, but he couldn’t miss the new tension on her face. “Jacob is just here for a visit. He lives in San Francisco.”
“Hell, if I was a Tasker I’d move as far away as I could, too,” Vivian said. She opened her eyes and glared at Jacob. “You had the good sense to run away from that sorry family of yours. Why did you come back?”
“My grandmother is very ill.”
Vivian made a huffing noise and closed her eyes. She squirmed a bit and finally she said, “Good.” But there was something strangely complicated in her voice. She wanted to be glad that Eunice Tasker wasn’t well, but she wasn’t. Not entirely.
Daisy quickly transformed Vivian’s hair, taking her from Einstein to simply disheveled. For a few minutes, while Daisy worked, everyone was silent. Even the dog. Then Vivian spoke, and her voice was different. Reluctantly softer. “What’s wrong with her?”
Jacob explained, about the wheelchair. About the dementia. He didn’t tell her about the ruse he and Daisy were participating in. He’d prefer to keep that in the family, if he could.
When he was finished, the old woman said, “Eunice and I used to be best friends, a lifetime ago. We grew up together.” Her words were clipped, precise. “I thought of her as if she were a sister, until she stole my boyfriend out from under me.” Her eyes hardened. “That would be your grandfather, sonny.”
Well, that explained a lot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know...”
“Of course you didn’t know,” Vivian snapped. “I did marry, a few years after Eunice and Charles, and I loved my husband deeply. But we didn’t have much, and we never had children of our own. Do you know how much it hurt to see Eunice...” The woman took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “But that was a long time ago. I don’t suppose I should blame you.” And yet her voice made it clear that she did blame him...
In Jacob’s mind, Grandma Eunice had always been an old woman. He couldn’t imagine her as a young girl with a best friend. Maybe laughing and dancing, whispering about boys...stealing her best friend’s guy. That part wasn’t all that hard to believe. For as long as he could remember, his grandmother had found a way to get what she wanted.
“Tell me about her. And you,” Jacob added. “Tell me about those days.”
* * *
It took a while to comb all the tangles out of Miss Vivian’s fine, white hair. It always did. As she brushed, Daisy listened. She didn’t know a person alive who didn’t like to talk about themself and times gone by. Jacob had smoothed things over considerably by asking the old woman to talk about herself and her friend.
And apparently they had been very good friends, once upon a time. Miss Vivian talked about sleepovers and dances, skipping school and fishing. She talked about the time before they’d had a falling-out over a boy, and before she was finished the older woman was smiling in a way Daisy had never seen.
She finished with a story about two sixteen-year-old girls and a litter of puppies.
Daisy finished the braid and secured it. Next week she’d have to do it all again. Without Jacob. He’d disappointed her by not turning his nose up at those she vis
ited, by pitching in when he got the opportunity. He’d taken an infirm woman’s garbage cans to the street and had swept a kitchen or two. He hadn’t uttered a word of complaint or judgment.
But best of all, he’d asked Miss Vivian to talk about herself. And then he’d listened. Miss Vivian always looked and obviously felt so much better after Daisy’s visits, it made her wonder if she wouldn’t be a completely different person if she wasn’t so isolated.
Daisy settled her hands on Miss Vivian’s bony shoulders. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come to dinner with us one night at the Tasker House?”
The answer was immediate and held no room for negotiation. “I’d rather starve than eat in that woman’s house. I’d rather have ground glass for supper than eat at Eunice’s table. I’d rather eat cat food out of the can than give her the satisfaction.”
Jacob didn’t look as if he thought it was a very good idea, either, but he said nothing.
Daisy didn’t give up. “Don’t be that way. I’ll give you a ride. I can do your hair, maybe even your makeup, before we go to the house. Don’t think of it as having supper with ‘that woman,’” she added. “Think of it as visiting with an old friend who might not be here six months from now.”
Instead of another immediate refusal, Miss Vivian pursed her lips.
Jacob said, “Think of it as an opportunity to talk about the old days one last time. Fishing and dances, puppies and cutting class. It’s been a very long time, and...”
“Fine, fine,” Miss Vivian said. “If you two are going to twist my arm I guess I have no choice but to agree.”
Behind the older woman’s back, Daisy smiled.
“How about Friday?” Miss Vivian said. “Friday is a lousy TV night. I won’t miss anything if we make it Friday. There’s a baseball game, but I should be home in plenty of time to see the last few innings.” She scoffed. “It’s not like I’m going to hang around after dinner is over.”
“Friday it is,” Daisy said, heading toward the bedroom with the brush and what was left of the bobby pins.
Behind her, she heard Jacob add, “Leave the shotgun behind.”
Chapter Ten
Jacob pulled his car to the curb and shut off the engine. Daisy turned to him, smiled, then leaned over to give him a quick, easy, perfectly natural kiss. He was right there, and she just couldn’t help herself. It had been a good day; he’d been a good sport. He’d not only stayed with her as she delivered the meals to those who needed them, he’d helped her help Terry paint her bedroom a hideous shade of lavender. With the three of them working it hadn’t taken long. Of course, Terry had started before they’d arrived, so there hadn’t been all that much to do.
Wanting Jacob was one thing. Realizing that she still loved him...she could live with that. Liking him was another matter entirely. It was a complication she could do without.
Daisy pulled away. Slowly.
“Are you going to ask me in?” Jacob leaned toward her, mirroring her movement away.
Daisy shook her head. “No.” She couldn’t ask him in. If she did they’d end up in bed again, and she was determined to remain in control of this situation.
He didn’t press her. Maybe because he understood her reason.
“When do I get my date?” he asked.
Daisy laughed. “You don’t! I think I’ve made it clear...”
“I threw myself in front of a weapon for you today. Don’t you think that should earn me a little consideration?”
“It was just birdshot,” Daisy argued.
“Just birdshot,” he repeated.
“Not that Miss Vivian would’ve shot you.” She shrugged. “Maybe,” she added in a lowered voice. “She’s not particularly fond of Taskers.”
“One date or I’ll camp on your front porch.”
“That would be so uncomfortable for you. Maybe I can spare a pillow to make your stay more comfortable.” She tried to sound nonchalant, when in fact the idea of Jacob right outside her door was torture.
He didn’t give up. Had he ever? “One date or I’ll hire a mariachi band to stand in your front yard and play until you change your mind.”
“You know I hate mariachi music!”
“One date or...”
“Fine,” she conceded. “Though I’ll have you know it’s only the threat of mariachi music that made me change my mind. One date. Nothing fancy. Maybe this weekend...”
“Tomorrow.”
There was a note of finality in his voice, and she was forced to remember that Jacob was a master of negotiation. He was determined to succeed in anything and everything, and always had been. He didn’t always succeed—his poor guitar-playing skills proved that—but he didn’t give up.
She wondered if he still played the guitar or if he’d abandoned the pastime entirely, the way he’d abandoned her.
Daisy knew when she was fighting a losing battle, and to be honest she wanted that date with Jacob. This time they would end it finally and completely before he left for California. This time she wouldn’t be left hanging and hoping and waiting.
It was going to end, they were going to end, but there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy the little bit of time he was here.
He took her face in his hands. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
Daisy sighed. “You’d better not.”
“I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”
And she wasn’t ready to let him go, which was all the more reason to make him stay in the car. Daisy shook her head as she turned away from Jacob and opened her door.
“So,” she said as she exited the car, “when are you going to tell Miss Eunice about the guest you’re bringing to dinner on Friday?”
“I think it should be a surprise, don’t you?”
“We’ll have to tell Miss Vivian about the fake wedding business,” Daisy said, leaning down to look into the car. “Otherwise she’ll be very confused.”
“We’ll fill her in on the way. I have a feeling she won’t feel at all bad about putting one over on my grandmother.”
“Probably not.”
She pulled away, reluctantly, and Jacob called out, “I have the connections to round up a mariachi band and have them here in less than an hour. Don’t forget that!”
Daisy laughed. She felt amazingly lighthearted and happy as she all but danced to the front porch. Jacob watched her go; she could feel his eyes on her. He didn’t even start the engine until she unlocked and opened the front door.
Once inside the house, she leaned back against the closed door and shut her eyes. Listening to him drive away, she sighed. This was supposed to be helping; it was supposed to be a way of finally and completely letting go.
It wasn’t working. And tomorrow night she actually had a date with the man she was still in love with.
A man who would never choose her over his career. Who would never put her first in his life. After all these years of caring for others, she needed to feel like the most important thing to someone.
The house was so quiet...so lonely. Even the squirrels had gone silent, or else had departed completely, leaving Daisy entirely on her own. She could feel and hear her own heartbeat, could hear the ticking of the clock over the mantel. It had never seemed so loud before, as if it were counting off the seconds of her life.
Or counting down the seconds of the little bit of time Jacob would be close by.
It took every ounce of determination Daisy possessed not to run outside and chase Jacob down the street. She’d smiled as she’d left him sitting in the car, but as she stood alone in the only home she’d ever known, a few annoying tears slipped down her cheeks.
* * *
“I called the house and told Lurlene that I wouldn’t be home.”
“Yes, she passed the word on. But she didn’t say where you were, and I was worried sick!”
Jacob felt like a fifteen-year-old who’d been caught sneaking out. He was thirty-one, an adult who shouldn’t have to explain to his mother where he’d spent
the night. All things considered, it shouldn’t be much of a mystery.
Lurlene wheeled Grandma Eunice into the foyer. It was likely not a coincidence that she appeared when she did. She’d heard his car, and come out to say hello. Jacob looked at his grandmother and, for the first time, saw her as a young girl. He tried not to picture the kind of young woman who would steal a good friend’s boyfriend, but instead attempted to see the girl who’d fished and skipped school and babied puppies.
“Where’s Daisy?” Eunice asked, looking past Jacob to the front door.
“She won’t be here tonight. It was a long day and she wanted to get to bed early.”
Eunice smiled, briefly. “Well, perhaps tomorrow. She still hasn’t tried on her wedding dress!”
Jacob shook his head. “Sorry, it won’t be tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Tomorrow night we have a date.” He winked at Eunice, who seemed very pleased by his announcement.
“Well, then, you two have a good time. Another day this week, then.”
Jacob thought about Friday, and wondered if he should tell Grandma Eunice that an old friend would be joining them for dinner. He hesitated. He was already rethinking his impulsive invitation. If Grandma Eunice reacted to Miss Vivian the way Miss Vivian had reacted to her, then the night could turn ugly.
But he didn’t think that would be the case. They’d been good friends, once, and now they were both alone. Alone in different ways, but still, surely an old friend would be welcomed. He said, “Tonight after dinner, why don’t you get out some old photos and tell me about Grandpa.”
She smiled. Like Vivian, talking about the old days was not a chore. And though her memory of recent events was fuzzy, at times, she remembered those old days as if they’d been just yesterday.
“Of course. It’s such a shame that your Grandpa Charles passed before you were old enough to remember him.”
“Yes, it is.”
“He was very handsome in his day, you know. You look very much like him.”
So he had been told.
Grandma Eunice seemed to be in a very good mood, bright and with it...until Ben and Maddy arrived, and she mistook her youngest grandson’s wife for the new maid.
A Week Till the Wedding Page 11
