And for what? So she could come back to the home she’d made for her and Jack and face living alone, waiting, wishing for happiness that seemed never to be in the cards.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“GRANDMA ROSALITO’S SPAGHETTI,” Clancy said, his sarcasm clearly indicating his opinion of the food container he was handling. “I bet if there ever was a Grandma Rosalito, she’s rolling over in her grave right now.”
Bret took the poly bag from him and examined the graphics on the front. A nice mountain scene under the words High Country Kitchen, and below that a steaming plate of pasta and sauce. “Looks good to me,” he said, hanging the bag on its appropriate hook.
Clancy took another bag, one labeled Green Bean Casserole and hung it next to the spaghetti. “It’s all freeze dried,” he said. “You add boiling water and eat it right from the pouch.”
“Pretty convenient, I’d say,” Bret said. “No muss, no fuss, lightweight and easy to carry.”
“And only $7.99 a serving!” Clancy barked. “It’s highway robbery. I tell you, son, I’d have to be starving before I’d eat any of this stuff.”
“It’s very nutritious, Grandpa,” Luke said, handing the next pouch to Clancy. “I had one for lunch, the macaroni and cheese, and it was really good.”
Clancy attached the pouch to the hook and took another from Luke. “Your son is eating all the profits, Bret. But I guess based on his recommendation, I might try this chicken Alfredo.”
“Never mind, Pop. You can go into the kitchen and open a can of Chef Boyardee. We need to sell every one of these within the next—” he checked the packaging on a breakfast skillet meal “—seven years!” He grimaced. “This stuff must be made of iron filings and bird toenails if it lasts that long.”
Luke dropped the next bag on the floor. “Ew, Dad! I was going to have one like that for breakfast.”
“Maybe you’ll think twice before wasting another $7.99 from now on,” Bret said, and immediately regretted his sharp tone.
Luke stared up at Clancy with a shocked expression on his face. Clancy shrugged one shoulder. “In case you haven’t noticed, your dad’s been a little cranky lately,” he said. “Cut him some slack, Luke. That’s what I’ve been doing. Along with staying as far away from him as possible.”
“But it’s been five days,” Luke said.
Bret knew exactly what his son was referring to, and the kid was right. Today was Wednesday. Dorie had gone out of their lives five days ago, and nothing had seemed right since. He should be apologizing to his son right about now, but instead, he snapped, “You can both go do something else if you want. I’ll finish up here. I can handle hanging up some bags.”
Luke handed him another pouch. “Come on, Dad. I miss her, too, but you don’t see me going around biting people’s heads off.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Bret had lost count of the number of times Luke had complained about having nothing to do since Dorie and King had left. He griped about the cooking, too, which was probably why he’d resorted to eating meals made with boiling water. Even Clancy had seemed out of sorts, although Bret wasn’t sure if that was because Dorie had left or because Maisie was coming.
He didn’t know when his mother would arrive, but anticipating her appearance at any minute was like having a cloud hanging over all of them. Oh, he loved his mother, he guessed, even if long ago he’d stopped admiring her maternal skills. But he feared that Maisie, out of her tinkling-bell-canyon element, could be a force to contend with.
Bret hadn’t heard from her since her call informing them she might come for a visit, but that wasn’t surprising. Maisie was unpredictable. For days, he and Clancy had been living as if they’d heard a tornado warning, and yet the skies were still clear.
“Look,” he said after a moment, “We’ve been at this for a while. Let’s leave the food for now and switch tasks. Luke, you and Grandpa can stack those mylar blankets. Put a price of $5.99 on each one. I’ll work on these aluminum pots. We’ll have supper in an hour.”
If he’d expected that announcement to cheer his crew, he was wrong. They all missed Dorie’s cooking.
Luke and Clancy worked at one end of the shelving while Bret stayed at the other end. His family was right. He wasn’t fit company to be around. He’d done a lot of soul searching in the past five days, trying to analyze what had gone wrong and what he could have done differently.
Dorie had been absolutely convinced her brother was innocent. The boy she’d raised couldn’t possibly shoot someone. That kind of blind loyalty could be a good thing, but Bret had seen far too much during his days as a cop to buy into a theory based on instinct alone. Even after meeting Jack, Bret hadn’t formed a rock solid belief about the kid’s guilt or innocence. But one thing he was certain of—teenage boys went through skyrocketing testosterone as they navigated the waters between childhood and adulthood. He’d seen their tempers when confronted with challenges, heard their cocky denials when they were caught, their attempts to get out of trouble by blaming others.
Maybe Jack was innocent, but if hunches were worth anything, and they could be to an experienced, open-minded cop, Bret’s hunch told him the boy was guilty of far more than he’d admitted to. And even now, after five days of going over the situation in his mind, Bret’s opinion hadn’t changed.
He had done what he had to do because he had his son to think of. Luke was the most important person in the world to him. His son, his small family, they were the only people he had left. Or they had been, until that pretty woman armed with mace and undeniable grit had driven up his mountain and made him think about a future. But even for Dorie, Bret couldn’t be someone he wasn’t. His instincts told him to protect his son, and that’s what he would do, even if it cost him the woman he loved.
The realization that he did truly love Dorie hit him square between the shoulders. He didn’t think he would ever feel that kind of connection with another woman. Dorie had come into his life bringing sunshine, determination and compassion.
And now she was gone. He didn’t even know her address or her cell number. Not that those details would be hard to find. Her brother was in lock-up. His address was public record, and a cop, or ex-cop, could get it easily. But even if Bret found out where she lived, what could he do? In Dorie’s eyes, he’d betrayed her. She probably hated him.
He looked down at the price stickers he’d been putting on the aluminum pans he was displaying. For Pete’s sake. He’d forgotten the first number on every price tag. If he didn’t correct himself, he’d have to sell everything for ninety-nine cents! Way to go, Donovan, he said to himself as he picked up his pen to begin making adjustments. He had to shake off this funk he was in. He owed it to Pop and Luke. But how?
Inspiration suddenly hit him. He dropped everything and called to his son. “Hey, Luke. I’ll pick you up at school tomorrow, so don’t take the bus.”
“Okay. Why you doing that, Dad?”
This decision had already lightened Bret’s mood, but he kept his smile hidden and spoke as if what he were saying was no big deal. “I thought we might go down to the Walker County Animal Shelter and take a look around.”
A grin spread across Luke’s face and took more of the darkness from Bret’s world. “Are you kidding, Dad? We can get a dog?”
“I’m thinking it might be time,” he said.
* * *
FOR A MAN who’d moved away from Miami to avoid danger, stress and surprises, Bret had experienced more than his share of unexpected occurrences. On Friday afternoon he came around the side of the lodge trailed by the most recent surprise in his life, his mostly Labrador, seventy-pound black dog.
“Where is Luke, anyway?” he said to the energetic canine. Probably in his room playing a video game. And Skeeter, the dog, had obviously decided not to stay with him. “Do I need to remind you that, technically, I
am not your owner?” he said. “Have you forgotten that ten-year-old human upstairs?”
Skeeter pretended not to understand a word, but his ears perked up when they both heard a chugging noise coming from down the mountain. Bret paused, peered through the archway, and Skeeter plopped down on his haunches beside him.
“What do you suppose that is?” Bret said just before catching sight of the tiny car when it crept onto the property, putting along like a super-charged golf cart. He was surprised the car had made it up the mountain, and he couldn’t imagine who was driving it.
A woman got out of the car and ran toward him, her long, salt-and-pepper hair trailing in the wind behind her. “Darlin’!” she hollered. “I made it!”
Maisie’s ankle-length skirt whipped around her legs. And she jingled. She always jingled. The small brass bells hanging from her belt contributed the happy sound today.
“Hello, Maisie,” he said, allowing her to give him a monstrous hug and even offering a tentative one in return. After the age of seven, he’d never called her Mom, though Julie still did. Despite all her professions of love, Maisie had never felt quite like the moms his friends had. Maybe it was her complete lack of motherly instincts or her inclination to be a pal rather than a parent.
She’d never prepared his school lunch, never checked his homework and always let him miss school when he wanted to. Rules were made for everyone but Maisie.
“I wasn’t sure you’d follow through on this threat,” Bret said.
“That was the old Maisie,” she said. “I always keep my promises now.” She looked down at the dog. “Who’s this? Don’t tell me...”
“Yes, we got a dog.”
She stuck her nose in the fur at Skeeter’s neck and inhaled. Bret had no idea what she was testing for, maybe a new homeopathic canine potion. He didn’t think she’d smell much. The rescue kennel had bathed Skeeter.
“Well it’s about time,” she said. “No boy should grow up without a dog.”
“Ah, I did.”
“That was different. We had your father to feed and bathe.” She glanced around the property. “Where is the old snake-oil salesman, anyway? And where is my grandson?”
“Luke’s in his room. Pop’s around.”
“Probably napping if I know him.”
Bret couldn’t argue.
“Where did you get that car?” he asked.
“I rented it at the airport, of course. Only $17.95 a day.” She gave him a coy smile. “I can stay a week or two at those rates.” She checked the watch hanging around her neck. “Julie’s not here yet I see.”
“Julie’s coming, too?” Another surprise.
“Well sure. What would you expect? She wants to see me.”
“Naturally.”
She pointed to the colorful automobile. “Get my suitcase, sweetie.”
“Where is it? There’s no trunk.”
“There is, too. You’ll find it, and show me to a room.”
“A room? Maisie, this isn’t a hotel.”
She spied the cabins around back and clasped her hands in glee. “One of those places, then! Perfect.”
“There’s no heat in any of them,” Bret said.
“So what? It’s not cold.”
“But it could be tonight.”
She spun in a complete circle. “I want to see every inch of this place. Reminds me of a commune we have in the valley.”
“It’s not a commune. It’s a business.”
“Maybe you should rethink that. All these trees and rustic buildings. It’s just perfect for the disenchanted, where they can commune with nature, and grow their own vegetables. Non-violent inhabitants only, of course.”
His brow furrowed. She was the second woman lately to envision another purpose for his outfitter’s store. “There are many reasons for people to want to commune with nature,” he said. “I’m catering to men who want to explore their wild sides—in a civilized way.”
She smiled. “Oh, goody. Wild men. I’ve come to the right place.”
Thank goodness he wasn’t open yet....
She tucked her arm through his. “Actually darling, I have a plan.”
“Oh, no.”
“You’ll like this one. I’m thinking about taking your father off your hands.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s time I fixed the old dunderhead.” She walked toward the cabins in back, pointing her finger in all directions until divine inspiration made her pick a spot. “This building, under that giant elm. This is the one I want.”
He backtracked to get her suitcase out of the tiny hatchback compartment of the car and then followed her. They’d only gone a few steps when Clancy came out of the bathhouse, stopped cold and hollered, “Why didn’t you warn me, Bret? I could have run off into the woods and hidden in the trunk of a hollowed-out tree.”
Maisie planted her fists on her hips and laughed. “You’re still welcome to do that, Moon Doggie.”
“How long is she staying?” Clancy asked Bret.
“She’s right here, Clancy,” Maisie said. “So you can start talking directly to me.”
“All right. How long are you staying?”
“As long as it takes, so get used to me.”
Bret kept walking toward the cabin, rolling the suitcase over the dirt. He did not want to get in the middle of this. He’d been caught between his mother and father too many times when he was a kid. When he went inside, he heard his mother’s voice.
“You don’t look half bad, Clancy, considering you’ve been on your own for so many years. But I can still make some improvements.”
* * *
JULIE, ALONG WITH her two boys and the usual cooler full of food, arrived around five o’clock. Luke was in heaven. Skeeter, barking and circling the new arrivals, was as close to doggie nirvana as a four-legged creature could be. Bret, as he’d been for more than a week, was still miserable, though he had to admit that the commotion was a distraction from missing Dorie.
After dinner, Julie and Bret cleaned the kitchen while the boys played in the dusk. Clancy and Maisie were temporarily MIA.
“I think it’s going well,” Julie said. “What do you think, Brat?”
“Nobody’s killed anybody, so I’m optimistic,” he said.
“Mom and Dad are really more alike than I remembered,” she said. “Both of them look like flower children with their ponytails. Both of them are unapologetically unconventional. And they both use those stupid nicknames for each other, like time hasn’t passed at all.”
“Apparently nicknames run in this family,” Bret said.
Julie grinned. “I can’t imagine what you’re referring to, Brat.”
“Maisie said she’s going to take Pop back to California with her.”
“Yes, that’s what she told me when she called last night. She thinks they can make a go of it this time.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Bret said. “I just hope she knows about his history from the past few years. He hasn’t exactly become Mr. Responsible.”
“No, and that’s part of the reason she’s willing to take him back. She hates that Pop keeps dropping into your life every time he messes up.”
Bret wadded up the dish towel he was holding. “Now wait a minute. That’s no reason for Maisie to take him on. She can’t let Pop become her problem just to keep him from being mine.”
Julie put the last pot in the cupboard. “You need to let her decide that,” she said. “I think she’s regretting her lack of mothering where you’re concerned, and she wants to make it up to you.”
“Taking Pop off my hands would be a good way to start,” Bret conceded. “But only if that’s what she really wants to do. And I’m getting kind of used to the old guy. He’s been a help around h
ere. And he’s working off a debt to me. I still wonder, though, when he’s going to drop another anvil on my head.”
“Oh, there’s one other thing you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“Mom knows about Dorie. I told her everything.”
Bret made a note to never tell his sister anything, ever again. “I don’t know what you could have told her. I mean, you never even knew Dorie that well. And she’s gone now, anyway, so what does it matter?”
Julie pulled out a chair and sat. “Now don’t be mad at what I’m going to tell you...”
Bret hated any sentence that started out with “Now don’t be mad.” Almost always when a person said that, Bret was mad before he could count to ten. “Oh, no. What now?”
“I’m a bit closer to Dorie than you might think. After you got the landline put in, we talked on the phone a few times.”
Bret felt his muscles tense. Now his sister no doubt knew more about the woman he loved than he did. Sometimes he felt like an outsider in his own world.
“And I really like her,” Julie said, oblivious to his discomfort. “I know I told you that before, but she’s remarkable. She’s so independent and strong. And she’s very giving. And she really cares for you, Bret.”
“Cared,” he said. “She doesn’t care so much now.”
“Sure she does.”
“You don’t know how we parted. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“So? You can change that. You just have to try. If you want to reconnect with her, that shouldn’t be so tough.”
This was too much. Julie was about to get into an analysis of his feelings and he wasn’t prepared for that. He’d done what he had to do when he’d threatened to turn Jack over to the authorities. And even then, he’d given Dorie a break when technically he shouldn’t have. Ever since, his emotions had been playing havoc with his familiar feelings of guilt. The last thing he needed was his sister’s amateur psychoanalysis.
“Don’t go there, Jules,” he said. “This is my problem and I’ll handle it.”
“By trying to forget about her? News flash, bro. That’s not handling it.”
Blue Ridge Hideaway Page 20
