The Last Chance Cafe

by Linda Lael Miller

  Madge broke Hallie’s reverie with a cheerful cluck of her tongue and a shake of her bright-red head. “If I stand around here yammering for another minute, I’ll be late for my manicure,” she fussed, grabbing her purse from behind the counter and trundling toward the door. “I’ve got my soaps to watch—I tape them all, you know—and there’s bingo tonight at the Knights of Columbus. Five-hundred-dollar blackout.”

  Bear and Hallie exchanged glances, and Bear made a comical face, but he was obviously pleased that Madge had wasted no time in going out and getting herself a life, once she’d been relieved of some of her duties at the café.

  As she stepped outside, she almost collided with a long-legged young woman in tights, a gold sweater, and a short green skirt. Her hair was the color of polished copper, and cut in an attractive layered style. For a moment, Hallie was afraid this was Wynona.

  “Hi, Evie,” Madge said, with a smile.

  Evie smiled back. “Hi, Madge,” she replied. Then she crossed the floor, reached across the counter, and caught one of Hallie’s hands in hers. She turned it palm up, and bent to study the lines with all the intensity of a brain surgeon peering into an open skull. After a few moments, she lifted round brown eyes to Hallie’s face. “Oh, my,” she breathed.

  Hallie withdrew her hand, a little unnerved. “What?” she whispered.

  “Your life is a train wreck,” Evie said succinctly, and plunked down on a stool. She instigated a handshake, which Hallie returned by rote, and smiled, lowering her voice a little. “Don’t worry, though. It’s all temporary. You’re going to be married within a few months. You’ve been together in other lifetimes, you and this guy. Happy every time.”

  Hallie was practically speechless.

  “I’m Evie Callahan,” the other woman finished. “And you’re—?”

  “Hallie O’Rourke,” Hallie said, wondering if Evie could tell, with her psychic abilities, that she hadn’t legally been an O’Rourke since before her mother married Lou Waitlin. He’d adopted her within a few months.

  Evie turned on the stool, admiring Kiera and Kiley, who were coloring at a nearby table. There was no other word for the expression on her face; this was a woman who not only adored children, but understood them on a very fundamental level. “Are those your little girls?”

  “Yes,” she said. “They’re seven.”

  Evie nodded. “I suppose you’ve heard about my playschool.”

  Hallie smiled, glad the café was empty of customers. She could spare a few minutes to talk about enrolling the twins. “I have,” she affirmed. “Katie Stratton told me about it. She says you do a great job.”

  Evie blew on her fingernails and polished them against the front of her sweater, then grinned engagingly. “It’s true,” she said.

  Hallie chuckled. “How many students do you have now?”

  “Ten,” Evie answered.

  “That’s a lot of kids for one person to handle,” Hallie said, imagining a herd of children running amok, sloshing finger-paints in every direction, pulling each other’s hair, jumping up and down on top of desks. Sometimes—more often than not, actually—her imagination got out of hand.

  “I have assistants—Polly and Clarissa. And, of course, the angels help out.” Evie’s expression was absolutely serious.

  Hallie swallowed. “The angels?”

  “Oh, yes,” Evie said. Then her eyes were shining with mischief, and her face broke into a glorious smile. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? Don’t you believe in angels?”

  She thought it over. “I guess I do. But I didn’t know they were in the child-care business.”

  “Can you think of a better one?”

  Hallie smiled, shook her head. “Now that you mention it, I can’t.”

  Evie laughed again. “Well, of course you’ll want to see the school for yourself, check things out. What about Primrose Elementary? Have you signed them up?”

  “I’m planning to home school, for the time being,” she replied, “but I’ll definitely stop in at your place as soon as I can.” She was intrigued by this woman who read palms and had angels on staff. She liked her immensely, and she knew the kids would, too. “About the tuition—”

  “It’s doable,” she said, and named a figure that seemed within the realm of possibility, even on Hallie’s strangulated budget.

  Hallie remembered that she was a waitress. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?” Eye of newt?

  Evie was on her feet again, shaking her head, smiling. “No, thanks. I just came in to look at your palm and invite you to check out the school. I’ve got to get back—it’s almost time for our afternoon left-and-right-brain-integration exercises.”

  Hallie squinted at the other woman.

  Evie nodded, then crossed to the twins, leaving a trail of sparkling fairy dust in her wake. “Most children are geniuses, you know.” She smiled winningly at Kiera and Kiley, who were gazing up at her in rapt adoration, and cast her singular spell. “Hi,” she told them. “I’m Ms. Callahan.”

  They chatted for a few minutes, Evie and the twins, and then Evie breezed out the same way she’d breezed in.

  “What an amazing person,” Hallie remarked, and started when she realized that Bear was standing virtually at her elbow.

  “She’s that, all right,” Bear agreed quietly, and with something more than fondness, something decent and good. “One of our own, Evie is. She went away to college, came back and taught at the elementary school for a while, then decided they were holding the kids back. She got herself a charter from the state and started her own school, just like that.”

  Hallie wasn’t really listening; at that moment, she was thinking about Joel and the people who probably wanted to kill her, while staring down at her own palm and trying to find her lifeline.

  7

  C hance leaned against the chest-high door, watching as Sugar and the little colt, Rookie, rubbed noses over the cinder-block divider between their stalls. Further proof, he reflected wearily, that misery really does love company. He’d spent all day Saturday and most of Sunday morning working with the pair, separately of course, and hadn’t gotten to square one with either of them. Normally, he could get inside a horse’s head, inside its heart, but these two were hard cases, blocking him out at every turn. Maybe, though, if he couldn’t reach them, they could reach each other. He straightened, turned. He’d finished the day’s chores, except for the second feeding, which he would take care of when he got back from taking Hallie O’Rourke and her daughters to dinner and a movie. He intended to put his concerns—the cougar; the tense situation between Jase and Katie, whose marriage seemed to be falling apart; the horses; and a seemingly irresistible urge to run where angels feared to tread—and simply enjoy the evening.

  The plain black wall phone near the tack room rang just as he passed it, on his way back to the house. He still needed to shower, shave, and put on clean clothes. He snatched up the receiver. “Hullo,” he said, hoping it wasn’t Hallie calling to cancel their plans.

  The answering voice was Katie’s. “Hi, Chance,” she said, sounding apologetic and pretty well worn out. In a flash, he saw her at sixteen, shiny-eyed and elfin, queen of the prom. God, he’d been so crazy about her back then, he couldn’t see straight. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  Chance suppressed a sigh as he leaned against the wall. He was over Katie, had been for a long, long time, but the damage between him and Jase had been done, and there was no going back. “What’s up?”

  “That woman called again.”

  Chance consciously relaxed his jaw. “What woman?”

  “You know the one. The cocktail waitress in Carson City.” Katie began to cry. “Oh, Chance, she says he’s still seeing her. Claims she can prove it.”

  The fingers of Chance’s right hand clenched into a fist; he barely kept himself from slamming it through the wall and bloodying his knuckles up good. If Jase had been right there, he probably would have lost it entirely. “Have you t
alked to him?”

  She struggled to gain some control. “No,” she said finally. “I told her I had nothing to say to her, and that she ought to call Jase directly if she wanted to talk to him.”

  “Do you want me to come over?” He couldn’t see how his being there would change things—hell, it might even complicate matters—but Katie was his friend and he couldn’t just leave her hanging. She’d called him, after all, and that meant she was pretty shaken up.

  Katie was silent for a long time. “I don’t know what I want, Chance. For all this to be over, I guess. Better yet, for none of it ever to have happened in the first place.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “Okay. Suppose I find Jase and have a word with him?”

  “No!” Katie cried. No ambivalence there. “The two of you will just get into a fistfight and kill each other.”

  He drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. At the moment, he did feel like tracking the sheriff down and beating the last hallelujah out of him, but Katie was right. It wouldn’t solve anything in the long run, and one or both of them would end up in a world of hurt. On top of that, he’d have to change his plans for the rest of the day. “Listen, Katie—” he began slowly, awkwardly.

  “I know,” she broke in. “This is my problem, and I shouldn’t be dragging you into it. It’s just that, with Jessie gone, well—”

  “You think you don’t have anyone to talk to,” he said kindly. “But you do, Katie. You have Jase. The best thing would be for the two of you to sit down and hash this out, once and for all.”

  She gave a bitter, broken cry, meant, he supposed, as a laugh. “Do you really think we haven’t tried?”

  “Then divorce him.” It was a challenge, a bluff. He knew it, and so did she, but she bit anyway.

  “You know I can’t.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to find some way to work things out, won’t you?”

  “What is this?” she demanded, but with a smile in her voice, a real one. “Tough love?”

  “Something like that. You don’t need to me to tell you—or maybe you do—that this isn’t good for the kids. They probably feel like they’re living in a cement mixer.”

  Katie was quiet for a long time. “You’re different somehow, Chance.” The comment didn’t sound like a complaint, just an observation. “I don’t know, more open or something. What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m the same guy I’ve always been,” he said, but then he felt the burn of Hallie’s mouth beneath his, hot as a fresh brand, and he knew Katie was right. He was different. Once, he’d been in total control of his emotions and his life, and now it was as if he’d been hijacked to another planet, where all the rules were different. And it scared him shitless.

  “It’s Hallie, isn’t it?” Katie pressed. At times, usually the worst ones, she could be damned near as perceptive as Evie Callahan. “You like her.”

  “Yeah, I like her. So what? I like lots of people.”

  She sniffled, obviously cheering up a little. “Chance, that’s great!”

  “Now don’t go making some big thing out of this. We’re going to supper and a movie, that’s all. And we’re taking her kids.”

  “You have a date with Hallie?” The tone of her voice made Chance picture Katie all but clapping her hands.

  “It’s not a date,” he insisted.

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s . . . supper and a movie.”

  “Why didn’t I think of this? She’s perfect for you—”

  “You don’t know a thing about her,” Chance pointed out, getting a mite testy. Hell, for that matter, he didn’t know squat about Hallie either. Unfortunately, he’d already reached the point where that didn’t matter.

  “Evie read her palm. She’s an old soul.”

  Chance rolled his eyes. “Oh, well,” he drawled, “in that case—”

  She waited, and he could sense her laughter in the silence.

  “At this rate, Hallie’ll get a little older, just waiting for me to pick her up. I’ve got to shower and change clothes, Katie, so if you don’t need me for anything—”

  “A friend,” she said softly. “I’ll always need you for a friend.”

  Funny. She’d said those words to him once before, and they’d broken his heart. Now, years later, they sounded, well, right. “You know I’ll be here,” he replied.

  “Good-bye, Chance. Have a nice time.”

  He smiled, said a good-bye of his own, and hung up. In his mind, he was back on Jessie’s doorstep, kissing Hallie, only this time, the kids were nowhere around, and he carried her inside, up the rear stairway, along the hall . . .

  He reined in his thoughts, closed and fastened the barn doors, and sprinted toward the house.

  Chance Qualtrough looked good in his clean, creased blue-jeans, white Western shirt, polished boots, and denim jacket. He’d left his hat at home, and his blond hair, which curled against his collar in back, glinted in the late afternoon sunshine. He tugged at the nonexistent hat brim. “Howdy, ma’am,” he drawled, his eyes full of laughter. Hallie’s defenses were flimsy where this man was concerned, and as she looked at him, she felt them wobble precariously. She stepped back to admit him, felt the heat as well as the impact of his presence, even though they were standing a few feet apart. It was like the aftermath of an earthquake. “Come in,” she said belatedly. Stupidly.

  He stepped across the threshold. Kiley and Kiera burst into the room, ready to go. As a unit, they launched themselves at Chance, and he caught them, one in each arm, with a chuckle, then carried them around in a big circle, like schoolbooks. They squealed with delight, and Hallie looked away, blinking, her eyes hot and wet. Their longing for a father’s presence in their lives was pure and poignant, and Hallie nearly couldn’t bear it.

  There was a brief silence, and when she turned her head, she saw that Chance was watching her. He set the girls down gently. “Get your coats,” he said, and they ran off to do his bidding.

  He and Hallie stood there, alone in the kitchen, looking at each other.

  “They’re starting play-group tomorrow,” Hallie said, knowing the remark was out of context, but desperate for something to say. The silence had seemed magnetic somehow, pulling her toward him; she’d had to break it.

  “At Evie’s place?”

  She nodded. “I went over there yesterday, after work, and looked at some of the other children’s work. I was impressed.”

  “It will be good for them.”

  She nodded again, fresh out of small talk and quite unable to look away from Chance Qualtrough’s face. She felt his kiss again, not just on her lips, but as a hot echo that ran throughout her body. Fortunately, Kiera and Kiley returned just then, wearing their coats.

  “I never saw a truck with a backseat before this one,” Kiera said, when she and Kiley were both buckled in.

  “Yes, you have, silly,” Kiley retorted. “Daddy’s friend Mike has one. We went to Sedona in it once.”

  Chance and Hallie, settling themselves in the front, exchanged a long look. Hallie was the first to glance away.

  “Mommy,” Kiera protested, “she called me ‘silly.’ ”

  Hallie didn’t answer. She was looking out the passenger window, watching the waters of Primrose Creek roll by, sun-dappled and shimmery-clear. She realized then that she wanted to stay in this place, for always. And that, of course, it was impossible. She felt the last shards of her dreams fall, tinkling, to the ground, and her spine sagged a little.

  When Chance’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, a reassuring touch, demanding nothing, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  Less than an hour later, they were in Carson City, standing in line to buy movie tickets. Looking around at the other people waiting, families mostly, Hallie was stricken with a sense of loneliness so profound, so elemental, that it nearly brought her to her knees. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eye, she discovered that Chance was watching her again.


  He bought four tickets, and they went in.

  “Popcorn, anybody?” Chance asked, addressing the question to the girls.

  “Yes!” cried Kiley, stabbing the air with her fist like an athlete after a score. “Me, too, me, too!” Kiera joined in.

  “You’ll spoil your dinner,” Hallie said.

  All three of them looked at her as if she’d just confessed to a long history of alien abductions.

  “All right!” she conceded, outvoted, and heard herself laugh, as if from a little distance.

  The movie was a comedy about talking dogs and cats, and the twins enjoyed it enormously. When the four of them left the theater, Kiera and Kiley were still wired.

  Hallie didn’t shush them; she loved the sound of their voices, and Chance was smiling to himself as he watched their antics.

  “You guys like Chinese food?” he asked.

  A chorus of yeses was his answer, and Hallie joined right in.

  They went to a cafeteria-style place, crowded with Sunday evening diners, and got into line behind a man in a clown suit, much to Kiera and Kiley’s delight. Just as they reached the cash register, a merry tune sounded, and the fellow produced a cell phone from the depths of his oversize yellow and blue polka-dot pocket. He looked serious, even dour, as he barked, “Yes?”

  “Clown emergency?” Chance whispered to Hallie, in a tone of mock urgency, and she laughed. In a way, sharing a silly joke made her feel even more vulnerable than the infamous kiss.

  The clown glared at her, snapped his phone shut, paid his bill, and took his big floppy feet over to a small table, where he was dining alone. Hallie rolled her eyes at him, then immediately felt foolish. She saw Chance grinning at her, and blushed.