Eva's Deadline

by Linda Hope Lee

  Eva tossed back her head and laughed. “Okay, blame me if you insist. The outfit is gorgeous. Have the clerk wrap it up and let’s go eat lunch.”

  “Okay. But aren’t you buying anything?”

  “A couple tops is all.” Eva held out the clothing draped over her arm.

  “You’re not even looking at the dresses?”

  “I haven’t worn a dress or a skirt in months. All my work clothes are going to be out of style by the time I come back to Seattle.”

  Twenty minutes later they pushed through the door at Clay’s Waterfront Restaurant. “I’m so glad to be home again, even for a couple days,” Eva said and then stopped short as she almost ran into someone. “Whoa, what’s this? A line for tables? Do we want to wait?” She stood on tiptoes. “There must be two dozen people ahead of us.”

  Susan shifted her shopping bag from one hand to the other. “There’s always a wait here. It’s never stopped us before.”

  “Right. Of course we’ll wait. I wish I hadn’t worn these shoes, though. My feet aren’t used to high heels anymore.”

  When they finally were seated and had placed their orders, Susan said, “How are things between you and Mark?”

  Eva sipped her iced tea and then frowned. “We’ve gone from bad to worse.” She told Susan about Boyd Carlstrom and his offer to buy her half of the Herald.

  “That would be a good out for you, wouldn’t it?”

  Eva nodded. “But Mark would have a fit. He says my father didn’t want Boyd to have anything to do with the Herald again. What happens to the newspaper is not my concern. And I can accept Boyd’s offer if I want to.”

  “Too bad you feel that way.”

  Eva looked down at her plate. “Yes, isn’t it? Maybe if things had been different…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If my brother had lived…”

  “I remember you mentioning a brother, but you’ve never said much about him.”

  “No, I don’t talk about him a lot. But since I’ve been back in Willow Beach, he’s been on my mind. And that’s the main reason I don’t want to live there again. It harbors too many painful memories.”

  “I hear you. I’ve never lost anyone close to me—yet—but my sorority sister’s brother committed suicide while we were in college. I don’t think Jilly and her family are over it to this day. What happened to your brother?”

  “He, uh, drowned in a boating accident. Right after he graduated high school. He was supposed to go to the U and then work for my father’s newspaper, but he…”

  Susan leaned forward. “Yes?”

  Eva closed her eyes and put down her fork. “I can’t talk about it, Suse. I’m sorry.”

  Susan laid a hand on Eva’s arm. “You don’t have to, hon.”

  Eva forced a smile. “I want to hear something happy, which is you and Greg…I hope. Tell me, how are you two getting along?”

  Susan’s eyes brightened. “Our relationship is moving along quite nicely, thank you.”

  “You’re still sure he’s the one?”

  “Oh, absolutely. And he’s hinting at a permanent relationship.”

  “As in marriage?”

  “That’s the only permanent I’ll accept. You know I’ve been dreaming about being a bride since I was a little girl. Well, Greg hasn’t actually proposed yet, but he’s danced all around the subject, asking me what kind of house I’d like to live in, how many children I want and whether I favor a large or a small wedding.”

  “That does sound serious.”

  Susan held up a hand. “I haven’t picked out my china pattern yet, Eva. But I am excited about this relationship.”

  “I’m happy for you, Susan. I really am.”

  *

  EVA SAT AT the dining-room table, her fingers flying over the computer’s keyboard. Her novel was going full speed. When she’d scrapped the self-pitying story she’d started with and used her imagination to come up with something else, the story rolled along. Even if she never got it published, at least she was filling her time with something that interested her.

  She took a break to make a cup of tea. While she waited for the water to heat, she glanced at her wall calendar and her enthusiasm drained away. Filling the time or not, more than half a year of her exile remained. Nothing she could do about that. Time moved at its own pace.

  October’s fall colors had faded into November’s gray, with fewer sunny days and a windstorm or two. And with November came Thanksgiving. How would she spend the holiday? Last Thanksgiving she’d invited a dozen of her friends to a dinner at her condo. She hadn’t actually cooked the dinner—her favorite caterer had supplied the food—but no one seemed to mind.

  An idea brought a smile to her lips. Maybe this year she and Susan could collaborate on a similar party. Greg would be included, of course. The occasion would be a good chance to meet the man who had so captivated her friend. She picked up her cell phone and punched in Susan’s number.

  “How about you and I hosting Thanksgiving at the condo for all our friends?” she suggested when Susan came on the line.

  “That’s a great idea, Eva, but I’ve already planned to ski Whistler over the holiday.”

  “Oh, is there a group going?” Maybe she could tag along. She wasn’t particularly fond of skiing, but she could always hang out in the lodge.

  “Actually, no,” Susan said. “I’m going with Greg and his parents. They have a vacation condo there.”

  “You’re meeting his parents?” Eva teased. “Sounds serious.”

  “I’m excited, but a little nervous, too.”

  Clutching the phone, Eva stood and wandered to the window. She gazed idly into the distance, where the ocean sparkled under a moonlit sky. “I can have my own party, like I did last year.”

  “I’m sorry.” Susan’s voice was heavy with apology. “I’ve already promised my cousins they can have the condo then. Wish I’d known earlier that you wanted to come. I’m sure you could be included in their party.”

  “No, no, I don’t want to intrude on their celebration. It’s just that I miss Seattle sooo much.”

  “I know,” Susan said in a softer tone. “I’d feel the same way if I were away from home. But hang in there. You’re almost halfway through. Did you ever think of that?”

  “Always, but the holidays are a difficult time.”

  “They are, and don’t think I’m not having my own little meltdown. Meeting Greg’s folks has me tied in knots.”

  “You’ll do fine, Suse. They’ll love you.”

  After they hung up, Eva thought about calling a few of her other Seattle friends to see what they were up to for the holiday. Or maybe some of the friends she had here. Or used to have here. She hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, save for an occasional email exchange with Fran. No, she wouldn’t call anyone, either here or in Seattle. She didn’t want them to think she was begging for an invitation.

  The following day at the newspaper office, when she went to the staff room to refill her coffee mug, Mark was there. He sat at the table, looking over some notes. He glanced up and they nodded to each other.

  As she stood at the coffee urn, he said, “I suppose you’re going home for Thanksgiving.”

  “I’m not sure yet. My plans are, uh, fluid at the moment.”

  “Fluid, huh? Okay, here’s a thought. If you happen to be stuck here and need something to do—” He paused to sip his coffee, gazing at her over the rim of the mug.

  Was he going to suggest they spend the holiday together? She poured hazelnut creamer into her coffee, picked up a spoon and gave the brew a vigorous stir.

  “The community center cooks dinner for people who have no place to go,” he finally finished.

  Oh. So he wasn’t asking her to spend the day with him and Sasha, after all. She brushed away a niggle of disappointment.

  “No, I don’t think I want to eat there.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you eat there. I was suggesting you help out. You would get your
dinner, too, if you wanted.”

  “Help out. You know I’m not much of a cook.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, we had a sample of your cooking at the picnic, didn’t we? There are other ways to help. I happen to know they particularly need servers. I don’t think you’d have any trouble dishing up food.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s where I want to be, even if I do stay in town—which I probably won’t.”

  “Of course. But if you change your mind, just give the center a call and have Thelma put you on the list.”

  That evening, Eileen Dugan phoned Eva. “You’re welcome to join us for Thanksgiving dinner,” she said. “It’s later in the day, after the community center’s dinner is over.”

  “You’re volunteering at the center and cooking dinner for your family, too?”

  Eileen laughed. “George and I are in charge of decorations for the center’s dinner, and we’re decorating on Wednesday. Plus, our son and his family will be here to help with our family meal. Anyway, you’re welcome to come.”

  “Thanks, Eileen. My plans aren’t set yet, but I’ll let you know soon, one way or the other.”

  Eva hung up, touched by Eileen’s invitation. When Eva had moved back to Willow Beach, she sensed Eileen disapproved of her and figured that she, like so many other townspeople, couldn’t understand why she’d refused to join her father at the Herald. Of course, Eileen knew about Brett’s accident, but not the whole story. No one knew. Not even Eva’s father.

  But today Eileen sounded as though she really wanted Eva to join her family for Thanksgiving dinner.

  Eva was reluctant to accept. She’d still rather spend the holiday someplace other than Willow Beach.

  Yet, a few days later, still with no other plans, Eva found herself calling the community center and volunteering to help with their dinner.

  “We’d love to have you join us, Eva,” Thelma, the center’s secretary, said in her soft, melodious voice. “We can always use an extra hand. What hours are you available?”

  “Early in the day would be best. I’m going out for dinner later.”

  Next, Eva called Eileen and accepted her invitation. She hung up, wondering if she’d made the right decision. One thing was for certain—this would be a Thanksgiving like no other.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THANKSGIVING MORNING DAWNED gray and cloudy. Eva went for her jog on the beach as usual. When she’d finished and returned to her apartment, she was so cold not even a cup of coffee warmed her. She took a hot shower and dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater. When time came to report to the community center, she put on a blue windbreaker with a hood in case it rained, grabbed her leather purse and headed out the door.

  A six-block walk brought her to the center, a two-story brick building on a side street near City Park. One of the oldest buildings in town, it had character, Eva noticed as she paused to take in the ornate cornices on the roof and above the windows. The signs advertising the dinner pointed to the basement door. Delicious smells of roasting turkey, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie floated up the stairs, along with the sounds of talking and laughter. Eva stopped on the top step and took a deep breath. Did she really want to do this?

  Never mind—backing out now was not an option.

  Gripping the railing, she started down the stairs. The steps opened out to a large room, at the end of which she glimpsed a kitchen. Long tables covered with butcher paper filled the room. Eileen and George’s wall decorations of cardboard turkeys, pilgrims and pumpkins gave the place a festive air.

  Eva joined the group in the kitchen, where steam rose from pots on the stove and the worktables held huge bowls of cranberry sauce and green salads and cloth-covered baskets of rolls. Several urns burbled with brewing coffee and hot water for tea.

  A middle-aged woman with an air of authority stepped forward. “You must be Eva.” At Eva’s nod, she continued, “I’m Betty Foster.” She turned to the six or seven other people occupied with various tasks. “Hey, everybody, this is Eva Sinclair. Seb’s daughter.”

  Everyone stopped to wave or nod, and Eva greeted them in turn. She recognized Hal Barnett from the drugstore and a couple of others.

  Betty picked up a spoon and stirred a pot of green beans. “I moved here after you left, but of course I knew your father. Everyone did. What a great guy.”

  “Yes, he was, wasn’t he?” Eva mumbled as she took off her windbreaker.

  “Hang up your coat and purse over there.” Betty pointed with her spoon to a row of pegs nailed to the wall, where other coats and jackets hung. “And grab an apron while you’re at it.” She nodded at a stack of denim on a nearby table.

  After hanging up her coat and securing her purse on top of it, Eva picked up an apron and slipped it on. It reached nearly to her ankles.

  “How about makin’ the gravy?” Betty said.

  Eva frowned. “Mark said there wouldn’t be any cooking involved.” She spread her hands. “Not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I’m not very good at it.”

  “Not to worry. I have a recipe right here.” Betty picked up a small card covered in plastic and handed it to Eva.

  Eva glanced at the card. “Okay, this looks simple enough.”

  As she was measuring the flour into a bowl, the back door opened with a blast of cold air. She turned to see who had entered.

  Mark.

  Eva dropped her measuring spoon into the bowl. She hadn’t expected to see him here. She figured he and Sasha would have their own dinner or one with friends.

  “Hey, everyone.” Mark grinned and waved to the group. His gaze landed on Eva.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to be here,” she said.

  He grinned. “You didn’t ask.” He shrugged out of his windbreaker and hung it on a peg next to hers.

  He rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt and grabbed an apron. “Eva cooking?” he said to Betty with a grin. “That’s risky.”

  Eva stuck her fingers in the flour and flicked some at him. “Enough out of you, buddy.”

  Betty looked as though she wasn’t sure whether or not to take them seriously. “Now, now, let’s all get along,” she soothed.

  She put Mark to work mashing the potatoes. Soon it was time for dinner. Someone opened the door to let in the people who’d lined up outside. They streamed in and quickly filled the tables. For the next couple of hours, Eva, Mark and the others served up food nonstop. The tables remained filled. As soon as one diner left, someone else would come in and sit down in the empty seat. There were singles and couples, families with children, people of all ages.

  During a lull, Eva peered out at the crowded dining area. “Where do all these people come from? Willow Beach can’t possibly have so many homeless people.”

  “They’re not all homeless.” Mark scooped more potatoes onto his serving tray. “Anyone who can’t afford a Thanksgiving meal is welcome. The word has spread, and some of these folks are from nearby towns. We don’t turn anyone away.”

  Betty came up behind them. “The time you signed for is up, Eva. Only thing is, your replacement just called in sick.”

  “I can stay,” Eva said without hesitation. “Until around four-thirty. I’m going to a friend’s for dinner then.”

  “That’s when my time’s over, too,” Mark said. “I guess you’re going to Eileen and George’s. I’ll give you a lift.”

  “I didn’t know you were going there, too,” Eva said.

  His eyes sparkled with teasing. “You didn’t ask.”

  Betty offered a wide grin. “Super, Eva. That will really help us out.”

  When she’d moved off, Eva narrowed her eyes at Mark. “Is this whole thing a conspiracy?”

  “No. I didn’t tell Eileen to invite you, and I didn’t tell your replacement to call in sick. But as long as you’re going to stay, you might as well ride with me over to Eileen’s.”

  Eva shrugged. “Might as well.”

  At four-thirty, Mark put down his serving spoo
n and took off his apron. “All the turkey and trimmings around here have made me mighty hungry. Grab your suitcase, Eva, and let’s go.”

  “My suitcase, huh?” Eva took her purse from the hook and swung it at him.

  “Hey, watch out!” He ducked and raised his hands over his head.

  “You watch it, mister. My purse and I don’t take insults lightly.”

  Their sparring drew a round of laughter from the others.

  Eva and Mark left the center and drove in Mark’s SUV to the Dugans’ house. The place buzzed with activity. Eileen’s son, daughter-in-law and their three children had already arrived, plus some of the neighbors. Sasha was deep into a board game with the other children but took time to run over and give Eva and Mark a hug.

  Eileen insisted Mark and Eva relax with glasses of cider while final preparations were put to the dinner. Grateful for a chance to sit, Eva sank onto a comfortable sofa by the blazing fire.

  Eileen’s daughter-in-law, Rilla, came to sit beside her. She told Eva about her home-based business designing and making handbags. “I just love working with fabrics,” she said.

  “I’d like to see some of your work,” Eva said. “If you’re looking for sales outlets, I can give you some Seattle contacts.”

  Rilla’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great. I’m selling mostly on the internet, but I’d like to branch out into stores.”

  Eileen called them to dinner. Eva sat next to Sasha, with Mark on his daughter’s other side. Everything tasted wonderful, and Eva accepted second helpings when the plates of food came around again.

  Halfway through the meal, the doorbell rang. “Who could that be?” Eileen wondered aloud as she rose and hurried from the room.

  A few moments later, she returned with April in tow. “Look who’s here,” she said.

  “I got back to town from my uncle’s earlier than I thought.” April shed her navy blue parka into Eileen’s outstretched hands. Her gaze roved the table, lips curved in a smile—until she saw Eva. George brought a chair to the table for her.