by Wendy Silk
I smiled, despite myself. It was true. The health department was increasingly strict about the use of portable toilets on these little farms; we all knew that. Bringing an animal into the rows or leaving one’s own bodily waste would get everybody slapped with a massive fine.
Davis saw my grin and went on, pressing his advantage. “Listen, I know you’re a good driver. I saw how well you handled yourself with the van back in that mud in Yamhill.”
“Boss, I don’t have a license.” It pained me to admit it, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to get fired for lying about it.
“I don’t care about that.” He dismissed my concern with an impatient shake of his head. “Just don’t get pulled over and you’ll be fine. I need that delivery at this address by ten o’clock, no later. Got it?” He shoved a piece of paper at me. Before I could answer, he was already striding away, on a mission to badger some of the other pickers into increasing their speed.
I shrugged and began the long walk back to the front of the farm, where the dusty work van would be waiting. Once I got there, I looked around, thinking I’d have to load it up. But the back was already full of the juicy, smelly berry flats. Hey, there was one thing going my way already.
No, lots of things. I’d survived a few months in prison, I was a free man again, and I was working. I’d impressed my boss enough that he was giving me extra responsibility. This was a damn good day, and I was going to appreciate every moment of it.
When I pulled up to the address on the ragged piece of paper, I was whistling and savoring my determination to make the best of my life. I’d had to stop at a cutesy small town to ask directions on my way here, and I’d taken the opportunity to clean myself up a bit. The woman at the gas station had been pleasant, even cordial. She didn’t know that I was a man with a history of trouble with the law, and she didn’t need to.
Nobody needed to know that.
My easy whistle faded as I looked up at the building where my van full of berries belonged. It was a massive hotel, perched on a ridge that overlooked the water. I really had ended up on the other side of the island, looking at beautiful, rocky beach on the west side. The hotel was something else. It looked like an antique, like something you’d find on a postcard from before my grandparents were even born. Which is not to say it was shabby. It was just the opposite. The rich brown shingles were offset by the brightest white trim I’d ever seen. The peaks of the roofline were perfectly cared for, and the exposed rafter tails that I could see were entirely free of signs of rot. It was immaculate.
I’d have given anything to get a job working on that hotel. The chance to keep a building like this strong and vibrant was what construction was all about for me. Some guys liked being able to slap up a tiny house quickly, or to fix up existing construction that was already shoddy so that it would last just long enough that it could change hands. Those two good old boys that we’d met with in Cici’s bar were like that. They hadn’t wanted to spend any money to keep their properties in good condition. They only wanted to cover the dry rot with some cheap framing, so they could keep collecting rent from single moms.
But a place like this was different. That was old growth lumber in the framing, no mistake about it. I could tell this place was more than a hundred years old. I’d put it at 1905, as a guess. It almost made me shiver, thinking about all the years that it had stood there, looking out toward the Pacific Ocean.
Finally, I realized that I was staring when I had real work to do. I followed the signs marked “Deliveries,” and circled around to the side of the building. When I found the right spot, I jumped out and looked around for somebody to sign for my cargo.
“Hello?” I peered around the massive, antique doors that closed in the loading ramp. “Is anybody there?”
As I leaned in, one of the heavy doors quivered and began to swing back out toward me. I stepped back easily, but if I hadn’t, I would have been bowled over, or at the very least, whacked in the back. What the hell? I looked the ancient doors up and down, trying to figure out why they were still in use. They looked dangerous, not just irritating.
“Yeah, I can’t stand those doors.” I heard a man’s voice, deep and stuffy, as if he had a cold. A tall, athletic man a little older than me walked up behind me and directed a glare at the still swinging door. He ran a hand through his hair, making it look messier than it had before.
“This place is amazing,” I said, meaning it. “I’ve never seen a building that spoke to me like this. It’s in great condition. Those beams are pristine, all through there. You couldn’t get lumber like that these days if you tried.” I pointed up.
“You think so?” He kept a straight face for a moment, studying me, then his expression dissolved into a grin. “Well, thanks. It’s my place.” He extended his right hand and added, “I’m Grant.”
I shook his hand reflexively. “I’m Tim. Sorry, didn’t mean to take up your time. I’ve got this delivery of berries for you. You want me to unload it here?” I was embarrassed at having been caught taking my time on my work. And not even by regular management, but by the owner of the hotel.
He looked at me for a moment, then said, “Yeah, in a minute. First, tell me more about what you think of the hotel. The silhouettes of the roofline up there and there are sort of famous.” He pointed as he spoke. “And what do you think about the way these trim pieces are set in here?”
“Are you seriously the owner, sir?” I was getting nervous. Was I going to get in trouble if I hung around to chat? I didn’t have any margin for this kind of error in my life, not any more.
“Hey, stop it. Don’t call me ‘sir.’ I’m not that much older than you. Yes, I’m the owner. It was my parents’ hotel, and now it’s mine. But look at this loading area. I swear, I’d kill for a modern set of automated doors here.”
“I wondered about that,” I admitted. “Everything else is in top shape, so why haven’t you replaced these doors for ones that work better?”
“I wish,” answered Grant. “I’ve been discussing it for years now with the historical society, and they say these heavy old doors are a national treasure and they have to stay.” He frowned at them. Then his face brightened as he continued. “My wife, Alice, however, says she thinks the historical society is right. And I think Alice is always right, so there you are. Can’t complain.”
I was studying the doors again. “Well, they’re really not that bad. Heavy, yes, but this is a great mechanism. It’s really clever the way they got this piece to leverage the load right here. You just need to shim out this hinge to make it stay put.”
“Huh. You got a second to show me?” Grant bent down and gestured for me to join him on the concrete flooring.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d managed to sort out the errant door and to get the entire assembly into a newly secure position. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for solving a real problem, not just doing the repetitive manual labor that had become my life. More than that, I was glad to be doing anything at all related to construction again.
Grant stood back, admiring what I’d done. He was about to say something, then he sneezed several times and started rubbing his head. “I knew that was coming. Listen, I’ve got two maintenance guys and an assistant manager down right now with the summer flu. Now it looks like I’ve got it as well. Are you set on this berry delivering gig, or can I offer you a job this minute at my hotel?”
Something caught fire in me. I’d do anything for this job. It was hard to answer, though, without giving away more about myself than was prudent.
Grant mistook my hesitation for a lack of interest. “Come on, give it a try. What would you say to a two week trial, then the possibility of a longer contract after that? I have a hard enough time finding people who really understand how this building is put together. For me, it’s a treat to actually meet somebody who can fix things and who respects the place.”
I still hesitated. “That seems a little...premature, doesn’t it? You don’t really know me.”
He stared at me steadily for a moment, and admitted, “No, I don’t. Well, I haven’t known you for long. But I’m a pretty good judge of character. You would do well here, I can tell.”
I couldn’t keep quiet. In a panic, I blurted out, “I have a record. I was in prison.” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that out loud. I looked down at the ground. “That’s why I’m delivering berries. I’m really just a berry picker right now.”
He didn’t look surprised. “Yep, that’s pretty much what I thought. Tell me. Did you hurt anybody?”
“No. God, no.”
“Did you have a DUI?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then that’s good enough for me.” Grant grinned at me. “Can you start tomorrow?”
“Really, you don’t want to ask what it was?” I couldn’t stop myself. “It was marijuana. In a small town in Texas.”
He actually hooted. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that. It’s my understanding that the sentences for that in some states are pretty crazy.” He held out his hand again and said, “Good. So we’re on? Come in here tomorrow morning, eight o’clock, and talk to the receptionist at the front desk. Her name is Cindy. She’ll get you all set. If you don’t have a place to live yet, she can call over to Old Man Kemble and see if he still has that room for rent above his shop. It’s on me for your two week trial period.”
I shook his hand firmly and said, “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
He patted the side of the door and said, “Nope, I know I won’t.” Then he sneezed again and left, rubbing his temples and directing a haphazard wave at me behind him.
I was left there to unload the berries and look around at my new favorite place in all the world. I’d get the van back to Davis, then I’d hitch a ride to get back out here tomorrow morning.
Some days, if you clean yourself up and give the world a try, miracles can happen.
Chapter 8: Cici
We were up with the dawn, getting ready for our interview at the Blue Shore Hotel. Kelly kept trying to distract me from my nervousness by singing out portions of our catering menu. She knew I was regretting having agreed to do this. There was no going back, though. Even though I was tempted to skip the meeting and send her alone, I would never do that to her. We were a team, and I wasn’t going to shirk my part of the work.
As I brushed my hair, I could hear her in her room, belting out, “Order our famous blueberry muffins by the dozen! Or you can choose an assortment of fruit and nut muffins, perfect for your brunch meetings!” She was starting to get inventive, setting the words to Christmas carols, even though it was the middle of summer.
“Holy cow,” I muttered to Maggie as I added a tiny blue barrette to the front of her wispy hair. “Your Aunt Kelly has lost it.”
Maggie loved the singing, however. She was wiggling her shoulders back and forth as if she was dancing to this never-before-heard version of Jingle Bells. I finished packing her diaper bag for the morning, zipping it up with a flourish. Then, on second thought, I added a light sweater to it, just in case the daycare next door was drafty.
“Okay, kiddo, let’s head out. You’re going to have a great time at Miss Donna’s; it’s going to be good.” I scooped her into my arms, put the bag over my shoulder, and went downstairs.
“Cici, you ready?” Kelly appeared in the doorway, jiggling her keys.
“Honestly, I’m more ready to stop hearing your singing than anything else.” I pointed my finger at her jokingly.
She was undeterred. As we left the house, she was singing under her breath, “And you can upsize your coffee service to include a variety of teas…”
She waited in the car as I made my way up the walk to our neighbor’s house. Our neighbor, Donna, ran an accredited daycare from her home, and I had to admit, it looked great. Her house was painted a cheerful light blue, and she had found clever ways to incorporate children’s small artworks all through her front garden. It had every appearance of a happy, safe place.
Why was I so nervous, then? I’d never left Maggie with anybody other than Kelly, not ever. By the time I was visibly pregnant with her, I’d stopped working at the bar, of course. Kelly kept going in for a few more weeks, but then we’d driven up to Washington to live here, and there had been no need to use a real daycare. We worked from home most of the time, and the nature of our catering commitments hadn’t required us to both be absent from the baby at the same time.
If we were going to hit the big time now, though, everything would change. No more swapping which of us was with Maggie and which was at our commercial kitchen space preparing food. If we got approved as an event vendor at the hotel, we would have gigs that paid well enough that I could have my daughter in the daycare, even if it was just for a few hours a day. The idea simultaneously excited me and made me want to throw up.
When the door opened, I had the uncontrollable urge to shuffle my feet against the sisal mat that lay across the wooden floorboards of the porch. I was almost able to resist it, but not quite. “Donna, I’m glad to catch you this morning,” I said tentatively.
I had chatted lightly with her several times since we’d moved in, and she had encouraged me to bring Maggie in any time. I hoped I was doing the right thing. If it wouldn’t work out for her to keep Maggie this morning, I’d have to bow out of the meeting. Secretly, that was exactly what I was hoping for.
“Cici, what a pleasure!” Donna disappointed my hopes of skipping the hotel. She was happy to see us, and she saw no problem with Maggie staying for a few hours with her. “Cici, really, she can come in anytime, hon. You know I’ve told you this before. I’m glad you’ve moved back in. That house had renters for too long. It needs its own family back in it.” She looked at me with an understanding that made me uncomfortable. Then she reached out and hugged me to her. “I’m just glad you’re back, Cici. You’ve been through too much.”
I returned the hug, but I had to keep it short to avoid giving in to the tears that were threatening to swamp me. I didn’t have time for this touching emotional moment, damn it. Donna had always been nice, I’d give her that. Twelve years ago, when I’d left the house behind for what I thought was forever, she’d been a harried mother of teenagers, fitting in a job as a part-time accountant. It wasn’t until Kelly and I moved in that I saw that Donna had started the daycare that was now thriving.
I’d known this woman all my life. I could trust her with my most precious treasure for just a couple of hours, right? I kissed Maggie’s cheek and transferred her pudgy little hand into Donna’s. She toddled across the welcome mat and waved at me with no sign of distress.
“Bye, honey!” I waved back at her, and then sprinted down the walk to get into the car. Kelly was on edge, but we were nowhere near being late.
When we pulled up to the enormous brown and white hotel, I almost gasped out loud, even though I had seen it a hundred times before. It didn’t seem possible, but it looked even better than it had when I was a kid. Maybe now I had a greater appreciation of the contrast between this lovely, elegantly proportioned building and the strip malls that lined the Texas neighborhoods where I’d lived more recently.
Kelly tried not to show it, but I could tell she was impressed, too. I couldn’t help teasing her. “So you say you’ve been driving past this place, dreaming about working here? What do you think now that it might be really happening?”
She turned to me with a fierce energy in her eyes. “Oh yeah, it’s going to happen. Let’s get in there and show them how great we are.”
“You’re right. Who’s got time to worry about things when there are jobs out there that need us? I like your spirit.” I fell into step with her as we approached the imposing front doors. My guess was that once we were employed at the hotel, we’d be service entrance material, but I didn’t see why we needed to start there today. This morning represented a business meeting.
We had our own business! Hearing the words in my head gave me a sense of euphoria that las
ted through our greeting from the kind, older lady at the front desk, and right up until she showed us into a quiet meeting room. There, sitting at the long, polished meeting table, was Grant Bedloe.
Oh, Grant, I thought. I knew you would be here, and still I came.
He looked up at us with a polite smile. “Wildflower Catering? It’s very nice to meet you.” He rose from his seat, setting a stack of papers into order in front of him. He sneezed violently, then apologized in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry about that. There’s a little bit of a cold going around…”
As he reached the front of the room, he held out his hand to shake ours. But when he was close enough to really look at my face, he stopped in his tracks. He might have been frozen in a block of actual ice. Had he stopped breathing? The moment stretched out for what felt like an eternity, but it could only have been a few seconds before he recollected himself.
“Ah, excuse me,” he murmured. “You are...Cici?” He shook my hand and turned smoothly to Kelly to do the same with hers. “And Kelly? It’s very nice to meet you both. We were hoping to just have a quick session with you to get to know more about your business. It does look like your catering company could be a very good fit with our event schedule.”
Grant gestured for us to sit down at the table. He introduced his head of reception, Cindy, whom we’d already met at the front desk. Then he spoke in an inexplicably tentative tone to introduce the other man at the table. He was a slim, younger man, perhaps of college age.
Grant said, “This is my younger brother, Toby. He’s here from college for the summer, and of course he helps a great deal.” Grant’s voice was so choked that it was hard to hear him.
Toby looked unaffected by the recognition of me that was plaguing his brother. His gaze lingered slightly on me, as if he thought he might remember something of note, but then he moved on to smile at Kelly. He remained standing when the rest of us had taken our seats, and he gave a brief slideshow about the guidelines for approved vendors at the hotel. His voice was somehow both gravelly and sweet.
