by Beth Wiseman
“Tallie Goodry.” Owen reached for a cookie. “She said they’re all homemade.”
“They’re homemade, all right—homemade by Weikel’s Bakery in La Grange. I’d know these muffins and kolaches anywhere.” Hunter frowned. “Tallie Goodry is a—” He stopped, pressed his lips together, then sighed. “She don’t like me at all, and I never did nothing to her.”
“Well, she seemed glad you were working here. She didn’t say anything bad.” Owen scooped out another cookie. “So she didn’t make all this? She sort of implied that she did.”
“No, this is Weikel’s stuff. And they make the best.” Hunter picked up a kolache. “You better watch that Tallie. I reckon she’s on the prowl for a man, and I feel real sorry for whoever ends up with her.”
“Little harsh, don’t you think?” Owen grinned, but had to admit that he shared the boy’s sentiments somewhat, just from the little he knew about the woman.
Hunter shrugged. “Maybe.” He brushed crumbs from his mouth. “I figured Brooke Holloway was your girlfriend anyway.”
Owen thought for a moment. “I don’t know that she’s my girlfriend, but I guess she’s become more than just a friend.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I guess she’s my girlfriend.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”
Hunter laughed. “Wow, man, she’s got your head all confused, don’t she?”
“I guess so.” Owen smiled, thinking that wasn’t such a bad thing. A month ago he wouldn’t have thought that possible.
Hunter had demolished the kolache and was reaching for a cookie. “I got this girl, Jenny, that I been talking to sometimes on the Internet.” He blushed. “We’re gonna get together soon, I think. In person, I mean.”
“Cool.” Owen grabbed two bottles of water from his small refrigerator and handed one to Hunter. “What’s she like?”
“She’s real pretty. Blond hair. And she knows I have this real good job.” Hunter smiled, something he didn’t do often.
“A fresh start can be a good thing.” Owen heard himself speak the words and realized that there might be some truth in them for himself.
Owen put a half-eaten muffin back in the basket when he heard a loud pounding on the door. “That’s bound to be my uncle.”
He moved quickly to the front door and opened it. Uncle Denny was exactly as Owen remembered him, only grayer. His grizzled hair hung almost to his shoulders in a wild nest of waves. Bushy gray eyebrows arched high on his forehead, and his mouth naturally crooked up on one side, whether he was smiling or not. He wore a dark-brown shirt, and his khaki pants hung low beneath a protruding belly.
“Owen!” Uncle Denny threw his arms around Owen and squeezed. He smelled like cigars and garlic.
“Good to see you, Uncle Denny.” Owen eased out of the hug and reached for the red suitcase on the porch beside his uncle. “Is this all you have?”
“It’s all I need.” Uncle Denny’s left eye twitched as he spoke, a condition he’d had for as long as Owen could remember.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Owen stepped aside so his uncle could come in. “Like I told you when you called, I recently bought this place, so it’s a mess.”
“I’m sure it is quite luxurious compared to my most recent accommodations.”
Hunter met them in the entryway. “Uncle Denny, this is Hunter Lewis. He works for me during the week.” Owen nodded to Hunter. “And, Hunter, meet Uncle Denny.”
Denny and Hunter shook hands, then Owen asked, “So where have you been this time?”
“Motuo County in the Nyingchi area of southeastern Tibet.” Uncle Denny rocked back on his heels and closed his eyes, a blissful expression settling on his face. “Unbelievable slice of heaven, I tell you.”
Owen turned to Hunter. “Uncle Denny is fulfilling his bucket list, which is to visit the ten most remote places in the world.”
Hunter smiled. “Really? That’s cool.”
Uncle Denny chuckled. “It’s cool, all right, but it takes more out of me these days than it used to. Not as young as I once was, you know. So now I’ve got to rest and work on my memoirs before I head to Peru.”
“When are you gonna go there?” Hunter asked.
“Whenever I feel like it!” Uncle Denny laughed and slapped Hunter on the back so hard that it jarred him from his stance. “Where’s my room, Owen? I think I may need to sleep for a couple of days.”
Owen motioned for his uncle to follow him to the stairs. “What’s in here?” he said, hefting the heavy suitcase. “Bricks?”
“Maybe one or two.”
Owen was sure the bag must weigh seventy pounds, but he managed to get it up the stairs. Once he had his uncle settled, he walked downstairs smiling. He’d always enjoyed his Uncle Denny, and it would be nice to have a housemate for a while—especially someone as interesting as Uncle Denny. Owen looked forward to reading those memoirs someday. Uncle Denny wouldn’t show them to anyone yet.
When he got back to the kitchen, Hunter was positioning another portion of the kitchen counter. He stopped and wiped sweat from his brow. “That uncle of yours must be loaded to go to all them foreign places.”
Owen grinned. “After my aunt died, Uncle Denny sold everything they owned—house, furniture, boat, and everything else they’d acquired over forty years of marriage—and used that to finance his travels. My dad said he’d always hoarded money away too, and they’d never had any children.” Owen paused, remembering his uncle as a younger man—a bit thinner and without all the gray hair, but just as jolly and boisterous. “Anyway, he announced to the family about a year after my aunt died that he had this bucket list—you know, a list of things he wanted to do before he kicked the bucket. I think he’s already gone to five of the ten places he wanted to visit. The way he does it is to travel for a while, then come back to the US and rest for a while, then take off again. This time he asked to stay with me since he knew I’d just gotten divorced.” Owen paused. “He and my ex-wife didn’t get along too well.”
“The guy’s funny.” Hunter’s toothy full smile made him look even younger than he usually did.
Owen covered his grin with his hand as he rubbed his chin. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Hunter picked up a hammer and gently tapped the section of counter into place as if he’d been installing cabinets his entire life. “Bet there won’t be no dull moments with him around.”
Owen’s grin broadened. I’m sure there won’t be.
Twenty-One
Only two days left.
Brooke stared at the X she’d just marked on the kitchen calendar, then reached up and added the single digit in the corner. She picked up her coffee, but the lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. So she carried the cup upstairs to her bedroom, where she had laid out several outfits on her bed. She was staring at them, contemplating what to wear on Saturday night, when her phone rang.
“How’s Meghan?” Owen asked.
“She’s fine. I think it’s almost run its course, and she’s definitely not contagious anymore. You’re okay, right?”
Brooke and her kids had been more or less in quarantine since Saturday morning, when Meghan surprised Brooke with a sprinkling of red bumps on her face. Brooke had vaccinated both her children against the itchy disease, but apparently Meghan was among the 2 to 3 percent who got it anyway. Owen had never had the chicken pox or vaccine, so Brooke insisted he go get vaccinated and stay away from the house, just to be sure. Brooke had stayed home from the store with Meghan all week. Spencer had attended the Fourth of July parade on Tuesday with Judy’s family, but otherwise he’d been home as well.
“I’m fine. Tell Miss Meghan I miss her almost as much as I miss her mommy.” He paused. “Spencer too.”
Brooke smiled as the now-familiar warm glow took over. “I’m sure we’ll see you soon. How’s it going with your uncle?”
Owen laughed. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. He slept for two days straight, then started helping me and Hunter around the house.
He’s strong for an old guy.” Owen paused. “And he makes Hunter laugh, which is nice to hear.”
Brooke had been trying hard to put her feelings about the boy behind her. The apology had definitely helped. And Owen said he had a great work ethic. “So Hunter is working out okay?”
“Yeah. The kid has all the genes I didn’t get—mechanical, woodworking, etc. He can fix just about anything and has a natural knack for working with his hands. It’s been a good arrangement for both of us.”
“I’m glad.” Brooke could almost say that with a full heart.
“You decide whether or not you’re going to talk to your dad?”
Brooke had been telling Owen every night when they talked—sometimes for over an hour—that she was thinking about talking to her dad, for her mother’s sake, if nothing else. Mom had come by earlier in the week to visit Brooke and the kids, but she’d just seemed so sad. Brooke knew she was the cause of it. But surely Mom understood that her not telling Brooke the entire truth years ago was adding to the distance between them.
“I’m going to do it. Soon.”
Silence for a few moments.
“Brooke, I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Oh!” Owen paused. “I keep forgetting to ask you. Are you going to Tallie’s party Saturday night? You can ride with Uncle Denny and me.”
Brooke swallowed hard. “Whose party?”
“Tallie Goodry. She was over here last Friday and invited us.” He paused. “She made it sound like everyone in town was invited. Don’t tell me you’re not.”
Brooke was surprised he hadn’t mentioned this sooner, but she wasn’t surprised that Tallie hadn’t invited her. “I guess I wasn’t on Tallie’s list.”
“Then I’m not going. You know how I feel about her. But she’d brought that basket of treats over to the house and said that everyone would be at her get-together, that it would be a chance for me to meet the community. So I said I would go, thinking you and I could go together. Now I won’t.”
“That’s ridiculous. You should go. Tallie knows everybody, so it really would be a great opportunity to meet Smithville folks.” Brooke deliberately pushed aside the image of Owen at a party with Tallie Goodry. Brooke and Owen had been seen out enough that word on the street was probably spreading, but not enough for Tallie to abandon her efforts to get her hooks in Owen.
“I’ll just call her and tell her I’m bringing my girlfriend.”
The glow returned, but only briefly. “Tallie and I have the same friends. She didn’t invite me because she wants to make a move on you.”
“So are you jealous?” Owen snickered.
“Jealousy is a sin.” Brooke squeezed her eyes closed, knowing she was a sinner. “I think you should go and meet people, and it will be good for your uncle too.”
“You’re the only one I want my uncle to meet.”
Warm and fuzzy feeling again, but . . . “Besides, I have this thing I have to go to Saturday night.” Brooke glanced at the outfits on her bed again, then walked to her closet and pulled out another one.
“What thing?”
She rubbed the side of her face, squinting, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to share either. “Something I committed to a few months ago. A dinner.”
“Oh.”
Brooke knew he was waiting for more information. But Brooke felt guilty discussing Travis with Owen.
“Who’s keeping the kids?” he finally asked.
“They’re going with me. It’s kind of a family thing, and the doctor said Meghan won’t be contagious. You’re only contagious for four to five days after the symptoms start.”
“I got the shot right when you told me to, and then I’m supposed to get another one in four weeks, but I’m pretty sure I’m not in danger of catching.” He paused. “So maybe I could come over tomorrow night? Or after the party on Saturday?”
“I’ll see how Meghan is feeling tomorrow, but it will probably be late when we get home Saturday.” She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t ask more questions.
There was a heavy exaggerated sigh from Owen. “O-kay.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” She smiled as she hung up the phone. But the lump in her throat returned as she eyed the dresses laid out before her.
Patsy paced in the tiny kitchen of Harold’s shabby apartment, wishing the constant drip in the kitchen sink would stop. She stepped carefully on the uneven vinyl floor as she wondered what she could do to rid the place of the musty smell. This place made her apartment at the Oaks seem downright luxurious. Worst of all, the air-conditioning was on the fritz. They had it cranked down as low as it would go, but the temperature still hovered at eighty-six degrees. She’d called the apartment manager three times.
Harold was lying on the couch dripping in sweat, and Patsy wasn’t sure how much of it was from the heat or how much from the fever he’d been running the past few days.
“I should have taken you to Brooke’s, Patsy.” Harold was so weak. They’d been to the doctor the day before, and Harold had a bacterial infection, common to advanced liver disease.
She dabbed a cold rag on her husband’s forehead. “You’re not in any condition to drive. And I wouldn’t leave you anyway. But as soon as I have time to look, we will move to a better place.”
“I have money saved, and I’ve already put you on all my accounts.” He took a deep, labored breath.
Patsy wondered how much that might be since he’d chosen such a low-budget apartment. It didn’t matter. The hardware store was in her and Brooke’s names. And she had some money saved, a few investments. They’d get by.
She blotted sweat on his cheeks and smiled. “Remember that first apartment we had when we got married? This reminds me of it.”
He smiled back at her. “I think we had better AC at that place.”
Patsy shook her head and looked at the clock. “It’s been three hours since I left the last message at the manager’s office. What’s wrong with those people? Don’t they know it’s supposed to be a hundred degrees tomorrow?”
She was worried about Harold. His fever still hadn’t broken after a few doses of the antibiotic. Should she call an ambulance or wait until Monday to see the doctor? They could hardly ask Brooke to take them. Brooke was probably on her way to Houston anyway. Today was the day. Patsy knew Brooke was both anticipating and dreading this evening, which she’d been counting down for months. She hoped it turned out to be a good evening for Brooke and the children. But she couldn’t help but be a little worried, knowing her daughter was so far away.
Sighing, she listened to the drip in the kitchen as the temperature continued to rise, hoping to hear from the landlord soon.
Brooke braided Meghan’s hair, then twisted it atop her head.
“Daddy always liked my hair like this. He said I looked like a princess.”
Brooke smiled, hoping that Meghan would always remember things like that about Travis. “You do look like a beautiful princess.” She kissed her on the cheek, glad that only a few small bumps were left, then ran her hand along the white ruffles at the bottom of Meghan’s pink dress.
Spencer joined them in the living room wearing black slacks, a white long-sleeved shirt, and no belt, though Brooke had asked him to wear one. Spencer hated belts. Choose your battles. She let it go. Today was not the day to get in an argument with her son. “You look very handsome.”
Spencer grabbed his trouser legs and fidgeted, avoiding Brooke’s eyes. “You look pretty.” He spoke softly, but Brooke wasn’t sure she’d ever been more touched in her life.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper. She was glad she’d chosen her peach-colored suit. It had been Travis’s favorite.
“You ready?” She glanced back and forth between her children, knowing this would be a hard couple of hours for all of them.
Meghan and Spencer nodded, so they set off on their two-hour trip. Brooke had talked briefly to Owen last night, and he’d left her a message earlier today, bu
t she hadn’t called him back. This was a day to remember Travis. But the farther out of town she got, the more she thought about Tallie’s party and the fact that Owen would be there.
She wasn’t surprised when it started to rain on the way to Houston. It had poured the day of Travis’s funeral as well. Her mother had said that when it rained during a funeral, it meant the angels were taking the soul to heaven. Brooke smiled, hoping the angels would be with them today too.
It was nearing six o’clock when they arrived at Carrabba’s Italian Grill in Houston. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t seen Travis’s parents since Christmas before last, even though LeeAnn and Chuck had asked Brooke and the kids repeatedly to visit them in Colorado, where they’d lived for the past four years. Going there without Travis had been more than Brooke could bear. But when LeeAnn told Brooke months ago that they’d be stopping in Houston on the way to board a cruise ship, Brooke hadn’t been able to think of an excuse for avoiding a reunion.
She latched onto Meghan’s hand as they crossed through the parking lot. “Come on, Spence. We’re already a little late.” Brooke picked up the pace, knowing how LeeAnn felt about tardiness. Her stomach churned, partly from hunger, but mostly in anticipation of the surprise her in-laws said they had for her and the children.
Chuck and LeeAnn had always been full of surprises—some good and some bad. She recalled the time when Travis’s parents had bought them two round-trip tickets to Europe. Meghan was barely six months old at the time, and neither Brooke nor Travis was in a position to leave their stores for more than a day or two at a time. But when they politely declined the tickets, LeeAnn threw a fit, repeatedly telling them how ungrateful they were. LeeAnn and Chuck had gotten most of their money back for the tickets, but Brooke and Travis had heard about that one for a long time.
She opened the door to the restaurant. “We’re meeting someone,” she said to the hostess. “Chuck and LeeAnn Holloway.”
Brooke gave each of the kids a once-over and smoothed the wrinkles from her slacks before they followed the young woman to a table at the back of the restaurant. Chuck stood up when they got near and scooped Meghan into his arms. LeeAnn stayed seated.
