The Last Chance Cafe

by Linda Lael Miller

  Hallie followed him into the kitchen. He opened the broom closet and took a set of keys from a hook inside, jangled them at her. “The house key is on this ring, and there’s one here for the Jeep, too.” He glanced up at the clock. “You’ll want to get back to the café soon,” he said. “I’ll make sure the rig starts before I go home, if you want me to.”

  She ran her hands down the thighs of her jeans. Something about this man made her palms sweat, and other things were happening inside her, too, none of them ordinary. “You’ve done enough,” she said. “Thanks for everything.”

  He nodded, and for one brief moment, she thought he was going to confront her, ask her point blank about Phoenix, and Lou, and all the rest of it. “I’ll see you around,” he said instead. And then he was gone.

  Hallie watched through the oval window in the kitchen door as he backed the truck out, turned around, and drove away. When he was gone, she locked the house, hurried upstairs, and took a hasty shower in Jessie’s bathroom.

  She ironed a blouse from her suitcase, put on clean jeans, applied minimal makeup, blow-dried her hair, and caught it up in a clasp. Then she moved her things into another bedroom, one adjoined by a smaller one, with twin beds. Kiera and Kiley could stay there, close enough to her to feel safe, but far enough away to begin establishing some degree of normalcy. Their lives, like her own, had been turned upside down in the space of an afternoon, but they were at an extra disadvantage, because they had no way of comprehending the reasons for what had happened. They’d been thrust into a maelstrom of change, taken from the only home they’d ever known, with the clothes on their backs and the image of their father running after the truck.

  Tears rose in her eyes, and she blinked them away. No time to fall apart now. She had a job to do and besides, there was no use in looking back. She had to reinvent herself, move on, leave the past behind.

  She could do it.

  She went downstairs, switched off the coffeepot, paused in the living room, before the computer, unconsciously flexing her fingers. A few key strokes, and she would know what Chance had been doing while she was talking with Jessie on the telephone. The question was, did she want to know?

  At last, she turned away, headed outside, locking the door of the house behind her. The snow was melting, lying in wet, ragged patches upon the muddy ground. The nearby creek was visible through the trees, sparkling in the thin autumn sunlight, making music as it went on its way.

  She headed for the barn first, to look in on the horses, then made her way to the shed. The Jeep was parked inside, dark blue and dusty, and when she turned the key in the ignition, the motor roared to life. She was almost jubilant with relief.

  A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot at the Last Chance Café, which was empty except for a yellow Volkswagen and a big SUV, emblazoned with a gold badge and the word “Sheriff.” She parked the Jeep, got out, and made her way to the door, projecting a confidence she didn’t really feel. Although she’d been telling the truth when she told Chance that she wasn’t a criminal, she had ample reason to be wary of the police.

  Jase Stratton was sitting at the counter, on the stool Hallie already thought of as Chance’s, drinking coffee. Kiley and Kiera were dancing with each other, while the jukebox poured out a lively tune.

  “Mommy!” they chorused, when they saw her. They ran into her arms, and she gathered them close, as if to push them all the way into her heart and lock them away there.

  Jase turned on the stool, looked at her curiously, then smiled. “Looks like you’ve got your very own welcoming committee,” he said.

  She laughed and nodded, ruffling her daughters’ hair. “We’re a team, all right,” she said, and then focused on the small faces turned up to her. “So. Were you good?”

  “I was,” Kiera said.

  “There was a lady here,” Kiley added excitedly, tugging at the hem of Hallie’s coat. “She invited us to play-group, after school. There’s going to be a costume contest at the Harvest Carnival, with lots of prizes—”

  “Can we go to play-group?” Kiley asked.

  “Please?” Kiera pleaded.

  “We’ll see,” Hallie hedged. She couldn’t promise, not before she’d done some research, found out how much it cost. The days when she could afford a lot of extras were gone, possibly forever. “The first order of business is to get you signed up for school.” That task would have to wait until tomorrow, for better or worse, since she couldn’t ask for time off on her first day.

  “The teacher is Ms. Callahan,” Kiera persisted, ignoring her mother’s reference to elementary school. “She has bells on her ankles.”

  Jase, who had been looking on, chuckled at that observation.

  “Bells on her ankles?” Hallie echoed, surprised. And intrigued.

  “Evie Callahan,” explained the sheriff, “is Primrose Creek’s resident free spirit. She teaches belly dancing over at the Grange Hall, and reads palms and tarot cards, too. Besides running the play-group.”

  Hallie raised both eyebrows and smiled.

  “Evie is great with kids,” he added. “Both my daughters attend her after-school dance and art classes. They love every minute.”

  Just then, Madge came out of the kitchen, looking weary. She smiled warmly at Hallie. “Well, girl,” she began, “you ready to run your feet off? Bear’s made up a batch of his beef stew for today’s special, and everybody in town comes in for either lunch or supper whenever he does that.”

  Hallie drew a long, appreciative breath. The very air of the café was savory. “It smells delicious,” she said.

  “It is,” Jase put in. He stood up, laid a dollar bill on the counter. “Guess I’d better get back to fighting crime,” he said, with a wink at Madge. “I’ll be back for some of that stew, though.”

  Madge beamed, maybe with affection for Jase Stratton, maybe with pride over the stew. “We’ll be watching for you,” she said.

  He executed a teasing salute and left the restaurant.

  “My dogs are barking,” Madge announced, and sank into a chair at one of the Formica-topped tables.

  Kiera looked around, puzzled. “They are?”

  “I don’t hear any dogs,” Kiley said.

  Madge laughed, pointed at her crepe-soled shoes. “It means that my feet hurt,” she said.

  Kiera and Kiley looked at each other and shrugged. A young couple, probably the owners of the yellow Volkswagen Hallie had seen in the parking lot, left their booth to study the selection of tunes on the jukebox. When they’d dropped in a few coins and made their choices, the café brimmed with lively music again, and the twins once again occupied themselves with their version of dancing.

  “Can you handle the lunch crowd on your own?” Madge asked Hallie. The older woman was still sitting, though now she’d propped both feet on the seat of the chair across from hers. “I was planning on hanging around, you being new and all, but the bone spurs on my heels are really acting up. I need to go home, plop down in my recliner, and watch soap operas until my eyes cross.”

  Hallie grinned sympathetically. “I can handle it,” she confirmed. “It might take me a while to learn the prices. You want me to work through supper?”

  Madge’s expression was touchingly hopeful. “If you’re up to it. It’ll mean a long day for the kids, as well as for you.”

  “They’re good at entertaining themselves,” Hallie said.

  Madge heaved an enormous sigh. “Well, bless your heart,” she said. “You’re the answer to an old lady’s prayers, Hallie O’Rourke, I’ll tell you that. That brother of mine, he was born to be a fry cook, and he can work eighteen hours without even slowing down, but I’m just plain pooped. Why, I haven’t been to Bingo in three months, and I can’t remember the last time I read anything longer than a magazine article.”

  “Go home and put your feet up,” Hallie said gently. “Bear and I will hold down the fort here.”

  Madge sighed. “Who knows? Maybe Wynona will put in an appearanc
e, and actually help out around here.” She paused, gave a huff of weary laughter. “The Tooth Fairy will probably show up before Wynona does.” She hoisted herself to her aching feet. “Bear!” she called to the man in the kitchen, who was scraping the grill industriously. “Hallie’s here. She’s taking over for me. Don’t you run her off, you hear me?”

  Bear, a homely man with kind eyes, smiled at Hallie through the pass-through window. “You’re the one with the contrary nature,” he told his sister. “I’m real easy to get along with.”

  Madge shuffled across the linoleum floor and took her coat, a camel-colored woolen garment with a hood, down from a hook. “You call me if it gets to be too much,” she said. “My number is on speed-dial. Just press zero-two.”

  Hallie sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have cause to summon Madge back to the café. The woman was obviously exhausted, and in considerable pain. “Zero-two,” she repeated dutifully.

  Madge put on her coat, fastened the loops around the large buttons. She took a hand-knitted scarf from one pocket and draped it over her head, tossing one generously fringed end over each shoulder. Then she pulled on her gloves. “All right, then,” she said. “I’m going.” She seemed to expect someone to stop her, and she was clearly relieved, and a little disappointed, when no one tried.

  Finally, after casting one long look around the place, Madge opened the door and went out.

  Hallie busied herself refilling salt and pepper shakers and napkin holders, wiping tables, sponging off the vinyl-covered menus. The couple with the Volkswagen paid their check and left, and she cleared their table. The twins got tired of dancing and settled in one of the booths again, reading stories to each other from a battered copy of Field and Stream. Thanks to an accelerated learning program at their school in Scottsdale, Kiera and Kiley had both been reading at a near-adult level for the past year.

  At eleven o’clock, a man in greasy clothes came in, announced that he owned the junkyard, and offered Hallie seven hundred dollars for her dead truck. It sounded like a fortune, in her current circumstances, and she accepted readily, signed the title, which he’d brought along, and he promised to drop off a check later in the day. He tarried long enough to consume two bowls of Bear’s stew, and left a good tip.

  Hallie was in a cheerful mood when the lunch rush started; she enjoyed the work and the social interaction, such as it was. She’d missed her own restaurant sorely, and the idea of it standing closed up and empty, bothered her a great deal. There hadn’t been time to tie up any loose ends before leaving, and she’d left several good people without jobs or explanations. She hadn’t dared to call them, for fear Joel or some of the rogue cops in Lou’s photographs might have tapped the line.

  Why didn’t you go to the FBI, Lou? she thought for the hundredth time. Did you really mean to dump this on me? She’d tried repeatedly to reach Charlie Long, but without success.

  There she went again, she scolded herself. Dwelling on things she couldn’t change, mysteries she might never solve. She put the whole grim situation out of her mind, for the time being, and concentrated on waitressing.

  During a brief lull, she fed the twins, who were beginning to squabble, and grabbed a bite or two for herself, and by the time Katie Stratton came in, business was slowing down. Hostilities between Kiera and Kiley, however, were beginning to heat up in earnest.

  Katie’s smile was genuine, though there was a subtle sadness in her eyes. She greeted Hallie, who was wiping down the counter, and the several older people dining on the “Senior Special,” then approached the twins, who were glaring at each other like two miniature gunfighters preparing to slap leather.

  “Looks like somebody’s coming down with cabin fever,” Katie remarked. From her tone, a person would have thought she was addressing adults, not children.

  “She called me booger-face,” Kiera said.

  Hallie had long since given up on reprimanding the children; she had her hands full with restaurant work and was willing to settle for quiet mayhem.

  “You must have misunderstood,” Katie said, in all seriousness, turning an appraising gaze on Kiley, the likely offender. “You wouldn’t say a thing like that about your sister, would you? Not when she looks so much like you, and everything?”

  Kiley had obviously not considered the booger-face question from that particular angle. She didn’t back down—that wouldn’t have been like her—but she did toss Kiera a glance that said she’d be willing to suspend hostilities for a while, if the price was right.

  Hallie decided she liked Katie very much, watching this small interaction. “Hi,” she said. “Can I get you something?”

  Katie shook her head. “I really came by to apologize,” she told Hallie quietly. “Jase and I must have made a pretty poor impression on you this morning.”

  “There’s no need,” Hallie answered.

  “There is,” Katie insisted good-naturedly. “I’m a card-carrying people-pleaser, and I want you to like me.”

  Hallie chuckled. “No problem there,” she said.

  “Good,” Katie replied. She looked back at the twins for a moment, then smiled at Hallie again. “Actually, I have another motive as well,” she admitted. “It’s story day at the bookstore. Adele Denny, the librarian, will be in to read a chapter of Harry Potter, and afterward the kids will have cookies and juice. I came to invite your daughters. They could play with my kids afterward—we have two girls, too.”

  Kiera and Kiley had tuned in to the conversation right away, and now they were at Hallie’s sides, jumping up and down. “Please,” they chanted, “please let us go—please, please, please!”

  “How can I refuse?” Hallie asked, though a part of her wanted to do just that. She’d always been overprotective where the twins were concerned, and she was worse than ever now, but there was one thing greater than her fear for her children, and that was her love for them. They would never learn to function in the real world, or feel safe in their own care, if she didn’t loosen her grip. Besides, they had to be going crazy, penned up in the café all day.

  Katie’s eyes reflected understanding. “Story time starts in fifteen minutes,” she said. “We’ll be back in an hour and a half.”

  Hallie nodded, a little choked up. The twins were dizzy with excitement, and they’d scrambled into their coats before their mother had a chance to help them. Like a swirl of leaves in an autumn breeze, they seemed to soar for a moment, all energy and bright colors, and then they blew out the door, closely followed by Katie.

  At three o’clock, the high school let out, and the café filled with exuberant teenagers, consuming hamburgers, French fries, milk shakes and Cokes and making the jukebox jump. Their laughter and talk restored Hallie, rather than wore her out, and when customers started showing up looking for supper, she was ready for them. The twins, back from their visit to Katie’s book store, were pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. They had grilled cheese sandwiches and milk, and promptly fell asleep in the corner booth.

  Madge called three times, over the course of the evening, checking up. Was everything okay? Did Hallie want her to come back and help? Was the stew selling? Would she tell Bear that he should plan on making a batch of chicken and dumplings for tomorrow’s special?

  When eight o’clock came, Bear stepped out of the kitchen, something he rarely did, as far as Hallie could tell, and turned off the neon “Open” sign in the window. “You’d better get those kids on home now,” he said to Hallie, his voice as kind as his eyes. “It’s been a long day for all of you.”

  Hallie looked around. There were still a few customers, finishing up their pie and coffee, and the floor needed to be damp-mopped. The sugar and ketchup containers at the tables had to be refilled, and there was a stack of dishes in the sink. “There’s still a lot of work to do—”

  “It’ll keep,” Bear interrupted gently. “Go on, get the girls bundled up. Looks like we might get some more snow tonight, so you’d best hurry.”

  Hallie smiled. “Thanks,” she
said.

  She’d made good tips that day, and the check for her truck was in her pocket. She didn’t dare open a bank account, she’d still have to pay cash for things, but in the morning, she could stock up at the supermarket without holding her breath when the bill was totaled. She would buy each of the girls a toy, and get them signed up at school, though the prospect of that worried her a lot. Primrose Creek Elementary was sure to ask for inoculation records, among other things, and they’d certainly be in contact with the girls’ old school in Scottsdale. The Phoenix police might well have asked to be alerted if Hallie got in touch, directly or indirectly.

  Perhaps home schooling was the best solution, she concluded, with a flutter in her stomach. No questions asked, that way.

  Bear watched from the café window and waved when Hallie started the Jeep’s engine. She waved back, then headed out, driving slowly, carefully, over the country roads that led to Jessie Shaw’s house, the kids sitting sleepily in the backseat. Silently, Hallie went over her options.

  She mustn’t get complacent, or careless, mustn’t allow herself to pretend, even for a moment, that she belonged in Primrose Creek. There was no future for her here; it was a stopping-off place, a pit stop on the way to Somewhere Safe, and she couldn’t afford to forget that. They were still out there, Joel and the others, and they’d want to make sure she stayed silent about what she knew—whatever that took. Her children could either be caught in the crossfire, or taken back to Arizona to live with their father, the crook.

  She shivered, heard a childhood phrase in her mind. Somebody step on your grave?

  Reaching the log house facing the creek, she woke the kids, helped them out of their seat belts. They came wide awake in the cool, fresh night air, looking up at a magical sky, counting the stars.

  “Let’s make a wish,” Kiera suggested to her sister.

  “Okay,” Kiley answered. “I wish we could see Daddy.”

  Tears stung Hallie’s eyes, but she made no comment. Whatever her own feelings about Joel, he was the twins’ father, the only one they knew, and it was natural for them to miss him.