Flamingo Diner

by Sherryl Woods

  “We’ll see,” she said evasively. “How is Matt? You should have invited him in.”

  The flush in Emma’s cheeks deepened. “He, um, had to go.”

  “Too bad.”

  Emma gave her a searching look, then groaned. “You saw the kiss, didn’t you?”

  Rosa chuckled. “I wasn’t spying on you, I swear, but yes, I saw it. Looked pretty intense from up here.”

  “It felt pretty intense down there.” She regarded Rosa with confusion. “Who would have thought it?”

  “Any female with her libido intact,” Rosa retorted dryly. “Matthew is considered quite a catch in Winter Cove. Haven’t you noticed that the clientele at the diner is running heavily toward single women in their twenties these days, especially around 7:00 a.m. when he’s usually in there? Not that he’s ever anything but casually friendly toward any of them. Matt’s a single-minded kind of guy.”

  Emma regarded her curiously. “Meaning?”

  “I don’t think he’s ever had eyes for anyone but you. Not that he doesn’t flirt from time to time and there was one woman he went out with a few times, but his heart’s been yours forever.”

  “I always knew he had a little bit of a crush on me,” Emma admitted. “Are you saying you think it’s serious?”

  “That kiss looked pretty serious to me.”

  Emma held up her hands and backed toward the door. “No, I can’t think about that. A fling might be one thing, but anything more, no.”

  “Emma, wait!” Rosa commanded.

  Her daughter stopped in the doorway.

  “Whatever you do, don’t use him just to get through a difficult time. Matt doesn’t deserve that.”

  Emma sighed, looking guilty. “I won’t, Mama. I guess that’s why I didn’t go home with him tonight, even though a part of me wanted to.”

  “People do a lot of crazy things at a time like this. Just look at Jeff and that girl. I know he’s turned to her, even though I can’t imagine anyone more unsuitable. There’s nothing wrong about reaching out for a little comfort, not for him or for you,” Rosa told her. “In your case, though, the important thing is to be totally honest, with Matt and with yourself.”

  “I’m trying to be,” Emma assured her.

  “I know you are. You’re too kindhearted to do anything else. So is Matt.”

  She felt somewhat reassured as Emma went off to bed. Things would turn out okay for her daughter. At least maybe Rosa could protect her from having her heart broken. One broken heart in the house these days was already one too many.

  Jeff’s girlfriend had blue hair, a pierced nose and a tattoo on her arm. Her jeans were two sizes too big, her tank top too small, exposing a wide band of flesh at her waistline. Emma could hardly take her eyes off of the girl. What on earth had she been thinking? Or had Jeff simply brought her into the diner first thing Monday morning for the shock value, knowing that Emma would be appalled?

  More than likely, that was exactly it. She glanced in his direction, caught the defiant stance, the challenging glare in his expression. Emma kept her own gaze steady and vowed she would be polite, even if she choked on every word.

  “So, Marisol, where are you from?”

  “California, you know, the Valley. But I’ve got a great-grandpop who lives here in Winter Cove. That’s why I came to Florida to go to college, so I could spend some time with him, you know, before he dies.”

  Emma’s head reeled. This was a Valley girl? Times surely had changed from the days when they were perky, perfect cheerleaders with blond hair and empty heads, Emma thought. Though she wasn’t quite prepared to label this girl completely empty-headed just yet.

  “Do you go to school with Jeff?” she asked, as the girl slouched on a stool at the counter, oblivious to the stares of the other Flamingo Diner patrons.

  “Uh-huh,” she replied, snapping a wad of bubble gum.

  “What’s your major?”

  “Like Jeff, I was going to do the business thing, till I figured out that it’s all a bunch of capitalist bullshit. American business is destroying the world.”

  Emma bit back the sharp response that popped into her head. “Oh, how is that?”

  “This globalization stuff sucks, you know what I mean?” Marisol said, looking as bored as if she were trying to explain the obvious art of tying shoelaces to a two-year-old.

  “No, I can’t say that I know what you mean,” Emma said. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  Marisol blinked. “Now?”

  Emma propped her elbows on the counter and looked the girl straight in the eye. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s, like, way too complicated, that’s why.”

  “Let me guess, though. You’ve been involved in those protest marches where everything gets reduced to three or four words on a poster, right?”

  “Sure. Those people get it.”

  Emma looked at Jeff. “Do you get it?”

  He shrugged.

  “I didn’t think so,” Emma said wryly, then gave up the battle before she antagonized both of them. “What can I get the two of you for breakfast, assuming you don’t mind eating food from American farmers and prepared by an American capitalist?”

  The girl blinked rapidly. “Are you, like, making fun of me?”

  “Absolutely not,” Emma said. “So, what’s it going to be? Egg? Pancakes? French toast? Jeff, are you having your usual?”

  “French toast,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to the girl’s. “A double order.”

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” Marisol said.

  Emma barely resisted the desire to explain that the toast wasn’t really from France, but decided she’d already pushed the boundaries of polite conversation. She was all for kids being passionate and outspoken about issues, but it would be nice if they actually understood those issues.

  She turned away to place the order with Andy, who seemed far happier working the grill than waiting tables. Then she grabbed the coffeepot to make her rounds of the tables, where at least half the customers avoided making eye contact, probably for fear they’d burst out laughing at Jeff’s idea of the perfect date.

  Helen snagged her hand as she passed by. “Your mother would have heart failure if she were in here right now,” she told Emma in a hushed voice.

  “I believe Mama has already gotten an eyeful of Marisol,” Emma said. “Maybe that’s the real reason she’s been hiding out at the house.”

  Helen chuckled. “At least it’s not serious between that girl and Jeff, right?”

  “Lord, I hope not,” Emma said. “I can assure you that I intend to corner him and ask just that before he takes off with her again.”

  “Careful,” Helen warned. “He’s at that impulsive, rebellious age. If you act too scandalized, he’ll probably elope with her just to prove he’s his own man.”

  Wouldn’t that be a fine addition to the family tree? Emma thought, then chided herself for making a snap judgment based on a very brief meeting.

  She left the two of them alone at the counter until they’d finished their breakfast. Marisol chattered incessantly. Jeff looked sullen and bored. Emma had to brace herself to approach them and interrupt their fun time.

  “Jeff, are you planning to go by the house to see Mama?”

  He looked shocked that she’d ask. “No way.”

  “Do you expect to come back here to help out anytime soon?”

  He flushed at that. “Looks like you and Andy have things covered.”

  “Barely,” she said tightly. “And I have an appointment this afternoon at three. I’d appreciate it if you could be here at two to help Andy close up.”

  He seemed startled by her stern tone. Without glancing at Marisol, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. I can come by for an hour or so.”

  Emma looked at his too dull complexion and into his too bright eyes and knew that he’d probably forget between now and then. “Is there a number where I can reach you?”

  “Mari’s got her cell. You
could call that, I guess,” he said grudgingly. “Is that okay with you, Mari?”

  The girl shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Jeff gave Emma the number. “You don’t need to call, though. I won’t forget.”

  “Okay, then,” she said quietly. “I’m counting on you.”

  “All right, all right, I get it,” he said, grabbing Marisol’s hand and half dragging her toward the door.

  Emma watched them go, her gut twisting into knots. If her brother wasn’t high now, he had been very recently. Odds were good, he would be again.

  And she had absolutely no idea how to help him.

  13

  Emma was almost frighteningly pale and quiet when Matt went by the diner to pick her up for the their meeting with Jennifer Sawyer. He’d heard about her confrontation with Jeff that morning and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that the kid hadn’t come back to help out as promised. If he ever had the chance, he intended to try once again to explain to him what it took to be a real man.

  “You okay?” he asked Emma.

  She gave him a wan smile. “I’ve had better days.”

  “I heard about Jeff and his girlfriend stopping by.”

  “I’m not surprised. You don’t see girls like that on every street corner here in Winter Cove. Her appearance was the talk of the diner.”

  “That was mentioned, but what most people were concerned about was Jeff being belligerent and giving you a really hard time.”

  “Yeah, there was that, too,” she said, sounding defeated. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

  “Have you told your mother he’s out of control?”

  “Actually, I think she knows, but she’s as much at a loss as I am. I don’t think she can cope with anything besides her own grief right now.” She held out a piece of paper. “At least now I have a phone number where I can reach him in an emergency.”

  “Give it to me,” Matt said, taking out his cell phone and punching in the numbers before she could protest. When a spacey-sounding girl answered, he said, “Let me talk to Jeff.”

  “Who is this? Emma?” Jeff demanded when he came on the line. “Stop bugging me, sis.”

  “This isn’t your sister. This is your worst nightmare,” Matt said, trusting Jeff to pick up on his identity. “You promised Emma you’d be at the diner at two. Where the hell are you?”

  “I got tied up,” Jeff replied, sounding a little less belligerent and a lot less sure of himself.

  “Well, get untied and get over here,” Matt said. “You’ve been slacking off long enough. Emma and Andy are leaving with me now. When they get here in the morning, this place better shine from top to bottom.”

  “Hire a damn cleaning crew,” Jeff retorted.

  “That would be you,” Matt told him. “And lose the drugs before you get here, because if I so much as get a hint that you have ’em on you, you’re going down. Am I clear?”

  He heard a startled gasp, then the soft click as the phone cut off. When he met Emma’s gaze, she was obviously shaken.

  “You know about the drugs?” she asked. “I thought you believed it was just a threat.”

  “It’s more than that, Emma. I haven’t seen him light up or pop a pill, but I’ve seen all the signs that he’s using,” Matt confirmed. “And if I wasn’t sure of it before, I am now. He definitely wasn’t expecting me to call him on it. Hopefully, the fact that I did will scare the hell out of him. Until now he’s probably thought he had it under control, that he was pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes.”

  “I just don’t understand,” Emma said. “He knows better than to use drugs. Dad taught us that from the time we were old enough to understand.”

  “And your father’s gone now,” Matt responded quietly. “What better way for Jeff to rebel than to do something totally self-destructive that he knows would have hurt your father?”

  “But the real person he’s hurting is himself,” Emma said.

  “You and I can see that. He can’t. I sure as hell couldn’t when I was his age.”

  “You used drugs?” she asked, clearly shocked.

  “I experimented once. Your dad caught me with a marijuana joint and read me the riot act. He was so damn disappointed in me. I think that’s what really did it. I never wanted to see that look in his eyes again.”

  “Do you think you’ll have the same impact on Jeff? Will he show up?” Emma asked.

  “If he’s half as sensible now as he was when he was a kid, he will,” Matt said grimly. “I’m not joking around, Emma. I’ve cut him some slack in the past because of your folks and lately because of the situation, but I haven’t been doing him any favors. He needs to wake up and understand that there are consequences.”

  Matt turned to Andy, who was listening, wide-eyed, to the entire exchange. “Come on, kid. We’ll drop you at the house.”

  “I could stay here and help Jeff,” he offered, his brow knit with worry.

  “No,” Emma said flatly even before Matt could. “You need time off, too. Doesn’t football practice start soon? You should be getting in shape. When was the last time you went for a run?”

  “I told you before, I don’t have to play,” Andy said, his expression earnest. “Really, Emma, it’s no big deal.”

  Emma ruffled his hair. “And I told you before, that while I’m here, I intend to come to every game and cheer like crazy. You’d better be on the field making the kind of big plays Dad was always bragging about.”

  Andy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “How can I?” he asked, his voice choked. “I always counted on Dad to be there.”

  Matt gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze. “He’ll still be there,” he told him gently. “Your dad would never miss one of your games.” He grinned. “And now he’ll be able to whisper in your ear and tell you where the holes are in the defense.”

  Andy chuckled as Matt had hoped he would. Matt met his gaze. “It’s going to be okay, you know. You’ll get your college scholarship. Jeff will get straightened out. Your mom will be her old self. And Emma will go back to Washington, if that’s what she wants.”

  “I guess,” Andy said doubtfully. He looked at Emma. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should jog home. The run will do me good.”

  She brushed his cowlick out of his eyes. “You do that. I’ll see you later.”

  “Where are you guys going?” Andy asked as he laced his sneakers more snugly.

  “To see a friend,” Matt replied.

  “We won’t be long,” Emma added. “If you beat us home, tell Mama I’ll be there in time to make dinner.”

  “Am I invited?” Matt inquired hopefully.

  “I’m not sure if we have enough food in the house for a bottomless pit, but yes, you’re invited,” she said.

  They were all heading for the door when Jeff rolled up, alone. He avoided meeting Matt’s gaze and looked at his sister.

  “Sorry, Emma,” he said, sounding almost sincere.

  “No problem,” she told him.

  “Emma’s fixing dinner tonight,” Andy chimed in. “Can you come by the house when you finish here?”

  Jeff looked from his brother to Emma and then to Matt. “Sure,” he said at last, as if reaching a decision on where his best interests lay.

  Matt gave him an approving nod. “We’ll see you later, then.”

  Jeff’s arrival and his concession to come for dinner weren’t much, but the relief in Emma’s eyes made Matt glad he’d forced the issue. He had a hunch that Jeff had a long and difficult road to go before he got his act together. Rosa needed to step in and play hard-ball with him, but as long as she wasn’t up to it, Matt would do what he could. In the end, though, it might take all of them together to make Jeff see that he was in danger of ruining his life.

  Rosa almost missed the light tap on her front door. Most people rang the bell. She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, not sure she was ready to face whoever was on the other side of that door. She’d grown too comfortable letting Emma run i
nterference for her.

  Then she thought of just how much she’d left to her daughter to handle. Emma had stepped in and taken over too many responsibilities that should have been Rosa’s. It was time Rosa started taking a few of them back.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she opened the door and found Sylvia on the steps, a covered cake dish in her hands.

  “This is a first, you coming here without Helen and Jolie right on your heels,” Rosa said, smiling at her. “Or are they on their way?”

  “No, it’s just me. I brought another cheesecake.” She met Rosa’s gaze. “It’s a bribe, actually.”

  “Oh?” Rosa said, eyeing the cake warily. “Come on in and tell me what you’re after. A donation of some kind? I will not cochair another fundraiser, not in a million years, so you can forget that.”

  Sylvia grinned. “I don’t want your money or even your time, at least not that way.”

  “Oh?”

  “I want you to go with me to Saint Luke’s.”

  Rosa felt her heart constrict. “You want me to go to that survivor’s group,” she said flatly.

  Sylvia nodded. “Helen told me about it and…” She looked uncomfortable. “I hope you don’t mind, but she said why she and Jolie want you to go, you know, because of Don. I agree with them and, well, I thought it might be easier the first time if you didn’t have to go alone.”

  “I told Helen and Jolie—”

  “I know what you told them,” Sylvia said, regarding her earnestly. “But you need this, Rosa. Helen and Jolie won’t push you to go, but I will. The meeting is in a half hour, so we don’t have much time.”

  Rosa couldn’t have been more surprised if Sylvia had come over announcing that she intended to run for mayor. She was a wonderful friend, always the first one to pitch in and help, but she wasn’t aggressive. Rosa blamed that on her overbearing husband. Frank wasn’t abusive, but he was a control freak and Sylvia’s meekness made her life easier.

  “I know you all think I’m weak because I don’t fight with Frank over every little thing,” Sylvia said, as if she’d read Rosa’s mind. “But the truth is, I pick my battles, and the ones I pick, I win.”