Falling for You Again

by Catherine Palmer

  “Neither brown nor white!” Esther was saying. “I told Ashley I’d teach her, because I am the gravy queen. Wouldn’t you agree with that?”

  “Yup. Sure would.”

  “You don’t sound as though you mean that, Charlie.” Esther’s face sobered as she moved into the bedroom. “I know your mother always made a tasty gravy. And my mother was … well, you and I talked about how she felt about my cooking. But I thought you liked my gravy.”

  Charlie repositioned the sock balls for a third time. “Esther, I like your gravy. You know I do.”

  “You don’t sound sincere.”

  “I like your gravy!” he bellowed, surprising himself with the intensity of his own voice. He stood from the bed and jerked open the closet door. “Where in blazes do you keep your socks, woman?”

  “Right there in front of your nose.” She marched to the closet and pointed out a set of shelves she’d had him build inside it a few years back. “If you don’t like my cooking, why don’t you just admit it? That way I won’t embarrass myself trying to teach Ashley how to make a gravy no one will even want to eat.”

  Charlie plunked his wife’s socks and lingerie on the shelf. Wishing Esther would leave him alone for once, he turned his back on her and examined the items remaining in the laundry basket. If that portrait in the drawer wasn’t the strangest thing, he didn’t know what was.

  George Snyder. The name had a familiar ring, but he couldn’t quite place it. Esther had never mentioned having had a boyfriend before Charlie started dating her when they were high school juniors.

  So why had this George Snyder fellow written that he would always love her? Love was love. Not admiration. Not simple affection. Not respect or appreciation.

  Love.

  “Well, if that’s how you feel,” Esther huffed, “I certainly won’t make the effort to pass along my culinary skills. But you might have let me know what you thought of my gravy before we’d been married nearly fifty years, Charlie Moore. I can’t count all the times I’ve served it to you, and you never said a word. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Chicken-fried steak and gravy. Roast beef and gravy. Turkey and—”

  “What are you jabbering about, Esther?” He swung around to face her. “Can’t you see I’m trying to figure out where to put this blame-fool laundry? It’s bad enough I’m stuck in the house day and night, but now you’ve got me washing clothes, sweeping floors, and vacuuming carpets. I’ve about had it up to here, and I mean that.”

  “For your information, Cody Goss can do just as good a job with the laundry and the floors as you. Better, in fact. I don’t know why you asked him to stop coming after my accident.”

  “What? You told me to keep him out of the house. You thought he might have had something to do with your Lincoln rolling forward instead of backward. You said he made you nervous.”

  “Cody—make me nervous? Don’t be silly, Charlie. I love that boy. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Esther, he had been telling you he wanted to learn how to drive a car. You thought he might have fiddled with your Lincoln.”

  “And maybe he did. How will we ever know what happened that day?” She caught her breath and pressed a hand against her chest. “You blame me, don’t you? You think the accident was my fault—just like the other bad things that have happened in your life. I made you turn down that job promotion with the postal service. I raised our daughter so poorly she turned into a drug addict. I begged you to retire early even though you wanted to keep working. And now you’re stranded at home because I drove off the end of the carport and totaled my Lincoln.”

  Charlie set his hands on his hips. “Look here, Esther. I’ve had enough of this moaning and groaning. Ever since your accident, you’ve concocted one thing after another to whine about. If it’s not your achy joints, it’s your failures as a wife and mother. You’d better snap out of it, or I’m going to load up Boofer and head for California to see Charles Jr., Natalie, and the grandkids.”

  “You would leave me here alone?”

  “You’re never alone. Not hardly a minute. Women march in and out of here at all hours of the day and night. You’ve got enough casseroles in the freezer to feed two armies. You’ve got Cody to clean the house. You’ve got Ashley, your beads, your tea club, your hairdo appointments—what do you need with an old man like me anyhow? I might as well go visit my grandchildren and have a little fun.”

  “Well, why don’t you just do that!” she snapped. Turning on her heel, Esther set off down the hall toward the kitchen.

  Charlie sank onto the bed again and scratched his chin. Boy oh boy. That woman could really get his goat sometimes. No doubt she’d recite the details of their little spat to Ashley, who would award Charlie the evil eye the minute he wandered into the vicinity.

  He really was getting cabin fever, and the thought of winter coming on didn’t help a bit. A trip to California would be an adventure. Charles Jr. and his pretty wife would welcome a visit from him. The grandkids were teenagers now, and it would be fun to attend a high school football game or theater production with them. But Charlie knew he couldn’t really leave Esther in Deepwater Cove alone. Not without a car. Not without someone to watch over her and make sure she remembered to take her medicines and to drive her to church or the grocery store.

  Nope, he was glued to Esther about as surely as a postage stamp to an envelope. Like the mail he had carried so many years, Charlie and his wife belonged together. Letter, envelope, address, and stamp—communication went nowhere unless all the parts were in place. Neither did a marriage.

  Tonight, after Ashley Hanes went off to work, he would sit Esther down and do what he did best. Talk … and listen. Better than any man he’d ever met, Charlie knew how to get his wife to open up and spill her heart.

  He stood and picked up the laundry basket. As he laid out the rest of the clean clothes on the bed, Charlie realized there was only one topic he didn’t have a clue how to broach. That was George Snyder, his portrait of Esther, and his vow to love another man’s wife forever.

  Early Tuesday morning, Patsy pushed open the door to the Pop-In and found the little café already crowded with customers. It had taken Bitty Sondheim most of the summer to figure out that the Missouri palate was far different from what she’d been used to in California. Now, with cold weather settling into the lake area, folks poured in for her gourmet coffees, fluffy omelets, and sizzling luncheon wraps.

  From the moment Bitty opened at dawn until she shut down at two in the afternoon, her place was hopping. Far from competing with the tea area in Patsy’s salon, the Pop-In had actually brought new clientele both for tea and for beauty treatments. Even more important to Patsy, she had found a good friend and ally in Bitty. Like herself, Bitty was a single woman of a certain age and bodily proportion who enjoyed a pleasant chat or a shopping trip to the nearby outlet mall.

  “Hi, Patsy!” Bitty waved over the heads of her customers. “Come in out of the cold. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Much to her chagrin, Patsy had taken to eating lunch at the Pop-In frequently. Though Bitty’s vegetarian pita wraps were tasty enough, most folks—including Patsy—preferred her crispy, deep-fried concoctions of meat, potatoes, bread, and a few vegetables tucked away in the middle somewhere. Bitty had dubbed her revolutionary creations Hearty Homemade Wraps, but they were known around the lake as “heart-attack-in-a-sack” wraps. With a load of carbohydrates and cooking oil, they packed a lot of calories. Just this morning, in fact, Patsy had noticed that her slacks were a little hard to button at the waist.

  “Mornin’, Patsy.” Pete Roberts was edging through the crowd to her side. He tipped the brim of his ball cap in greeting. “I guess you’ve heard the news. You planning to talk to Steve and Brenda about it?”

  Though she tried her best to keep her calm poise in Pete’s presence, Patsy felt her heart stumble as she looked into the man’s bright blue eyes. True, he was growing his beard again, and his hair looked a little shaggy on the ends.
But she would never forget the moment he had showed up at the Labor Day barbecue. She simply could not get that tall, dark, handsome fellow off her mind. Every time she saw Pete now, he looked different to her. So rugged, so charming, so downright dashing that she was halfway scared to death of him.

  “Yes, I heard the news,” Patsy managed. “I figure it’s none of my business, though.”

  “I’d have thought you’d be steaming about it.”

  “Why should I get upset? I’ve known for months that he had a crush on her. He’s tried to tell her two or three times already. In fact, I think he blurted it out point-blank at the barbecue last month. A handwritten message in a birthday card shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone.”

  For a moment, Pete looked confused. Then one corner of his mouth curved up. “You never cease to amaze me, pretty Patsy Pringle.”

  She prayed she wasn’t blushing. “And why is that? I’m the same as the day you met me.”

  “You’re never the same.”

  “Are you fixing to tease me about changing my appearance again?” She fingered the golden curls of her favorite hairstyle. “I happen to enjoy being a blonde. I colored over the auburn three days ago, and I don’t expect I’ll change this shade for quite a while. You might as well get used to it.”

  He laughed. “What are you talking about, girl?”

  At the sight of his warm smile and the sound of his deep chuckle, Patsy knew for sure she was turning pink. “What do you think I’m talking about, Pete Roberts? My hair.”

  “But I asked if you’d heard the news about the tanning salon moving in.”

  Patsy felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “A tanning salon? Where?”

  “Here. In Tranquility. Someone’s been talking to Steve Hansen about subletting half of the tattoo parlor. They want to set up tanning beds, work on fingernails, and do body piercing.”

  “Fingernails?” Patsy breathed out.

  “I figured you would have heard about it by now.”

  “No. Nobody said a word. I thought the news you were talking about was the birthday card that Cody sent to Jennifer Hansen. The ladies next door are just buzzing about his profession of love. But I already knew how he felt about her.”

  “Cody Goss is in love with Jennifer Hansen? The missionary?”

  “She’s not a missionary yet. She’s studying to be one at Hidden Tribes Learning Center near Camdenton. Are you sure they said nails? I don’t give a rip about the tanning bed or the body piercing, but I do a big nail business all year long.”

  “Fingernails is what I heard. What did Jennifer say to him after she read the card?”

  “Same thing she always does if he starts getting too affectionate. ‘Everyone loves you, Cody. You’re so sweet.’ Is it the kind of manicure with the black polish and crazy designs, or is it my kind? You know, French nails and warm paraffin treatments and all that.”

  “Honey, I wouldn’t know a French nail from a French fry. Do you think he got his feelings hurt, because I noticed he’s been kind of moping around every time he stops by to get a hot dog.”

  “Pete Roberts!” Bitty Sondheim sang out. “Your order’s ready. One plain omelet with a hazelnut coffee.”

  “Hazelnut coffee?” Patsy stared at the tackle shop owner and part-time engine repairman.

  Pete shrugged. “A man can drink flavored coffee if he wants to, can’t he?”

  Patsy had never known Pete to drink anything but the black, tarlike sludge he brewed in the coffeemaker in his tackle shop. “Well, I guess so,” she said.

  “I’ve been known to down a hot mocha latte when the mood hits me just right.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You sure missed a good football game last Friday.”

  The bristles on his chin against her cheek sent a shower of goose bumps straight down to Patsy’s toes. She tried to back away, but in the crowded room, it was impossible.

  “I listened to the game on the radio,” she told Pete. “Last-minute touchdown for the Lakers.”

  “Say, Patsy, how would you like to go to a movie with me on Saturday night?” He paused a moment; then he moved a little closer to whisper again. “I’ll shave.”

  Seeing as she was about to shiver the top button right off her too-tight pants, Patsy couldn’t do a thing but nod. Pete winked at her and went to fetch his breakfast. Staring after the man, she watched as he paid Bitty for the meal, greeted a few fellow customers, and then headed for the door.

  “Pick you up at five,” he called to her over his shoulder as he left the Pop-In.

  Several people smiled and elbowed each other.

  Trying to appear disinterested, Patsy stepped up and placed her order. “My usual,” she told Bitty.

  A three-egg omelet stuffed with potatoes and dripping with melted cheese was exactly what Patsy needed to calm her shattered nerves. But the sudden image of herself on Saturday evening—trying to fit into her favorite purple turtleneck and matching pencil skirt—brought her breakfast plans to a skidding halt. What would Pete think if the fabric was stretched too tight or, heaven forbid, a seam suddenly ripped open?

  “On second thought, Bitty, just give me one of your plain omelets. Maybe a sprinkle or two of cheese.”

  Bitty took the change in stride. “Coming right up.”

  “A cheery good morning to you, Miss Pringle,” Charlie Moore sang out as he stepped toward her. “You’re looking lovely, as usual.”

  At the sight of the white-haired gentleman and his little wife standing arm in arm, Patsy smiled. “Hey there, you two lovebirds. Esther, your hair’s so pretty today. You’re not pulling a Benedict Arnold on me and trying out a new salon, are you?”

  “Don’t be silly, Patsy,” Esther said, touching her well-sprayed coiffure with her fingertips. “I did this myself, and it’s just awful. Last week I wasn’t up to attending the Tea Lovers’ Club or having my hair done. I didn’t even make it to church on Sunday.”

  “She’s been feeling puny,” Charlie inserted.

  “Anyhow, I’ve got no choice but to get out on my feet today.”

  “How so?” Patsy absently tucked a sprig of Esther’s hair into place. “Where are you off to at this hour of the morning?”

  “Springfield,” Esther told her. “We’ve got doctor appointments.”

  “Gonna have our arteries checked,” Charlie clarified. “Make sure we don’t have anything gumming up the works. Might have to auger ’em out to keep us both ticking for a few more years.”

  “My accident, you know. One little mishap, and the doctors insist on examining you from head to toe.”

  “And inside out.”

  “I feel perfectly fine,” Esther chirped. “Charlie’s got all those years of carrying mail behind him. We’re fit as a pair of fiddles. Seems like a waste of time to drive all the way down to Springfield, but we’re planning to do a little Christmas shopping at the big mall there. You know how I love to give presents.”

  “And get ’em too.” Charlie grinned at his wife.

  “Esther, you do the prettiest wrapping in Deepwater Cove,” Patsy told her friend. “Last year, you tied a white crocheted star onto the gift you gave me, remember? I saved it to hang on my Christmas tree.”

  “It was a snowflake, not a star, and be thankful you’ve still got it. There won’t be any more of those, I assure you. I nearly wore my fingers to the bone with all that needlework.”

  “Order’s up, Patsy!” Bitty announced. “One cheese omelet. I threw in a few potatoes for you too.”

  With distressing visions of skirt seams splitting, a competing manicure business moving in next door, and Pete Roberts looking at her with moony blue eyes, Patsy almost forgot to pay for her breakfast. As she passed Charlie and Esther on her way to the door, she saw the elderly man bend down and gently kiss his wife’s cheek. Clenching her sack, Patsy stepped out into the crisp autumn morning and hurried toward her salon.

  Just As I Am. She read the sign silently. The good Lord loves me just as I am, she told
herself. Remember that, Patsy Pringle.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  What is plaque, anyhow?” Esther asked. Seated beside her husband in the car, she gazed out the window at the majestic Ozark hills as they drove toward Camdenton. Cloaked in shades of red, gold, and brown, the trees were reaching the peak of their colorful display. Esther had always loved autumn at the lake. Brisk breezes ruffled the water and whispered through the leaves. Docks emptied as people tucked their boats away for the winter. Canada geese flew overhead, squirrels hunted for nuts, and deer bounded into the woods from the roadside.

  “Some kind of sticky goop, I guess. The doctor said it was a mix of cholesterol, calcium, and … what was it? Oh, fibrous tissue.”

  Behind the wheel, Charlie looked as he always had. Handsome and earnest but with the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Esther studied the rays of the setting sun as they lit up a farmer’s stubbled field and round bales of hay.

  “I don’t like the idea of anyone putting a balloon into my arteries or poking around in there to clean them out,” she fretted. “I’m not sure I’ll agree to that. Why do you suppose I have plaque and you don’t? We’ve been eating the same meals all these years.”

  “Probably walking my mail route kept the blood pumping.”

  “As if I didn’t walk just as much as you—running after those two kids, doing my chores, cooking three meals a day. And in case you’ve forgotten, I used to mow the lawn too.”

  “How could I forget a sight like that? You in your pedal pushers with those shapely legs. When I knew you’d be outside mowing, I used to try to get home from work early.”

  “Did you really?”

  “Sure.” He glanced over at her. “I liked the red pants with the polka dots. You were as cute as a bug’s ear.”