by Marin Thomas
“He’s watching me work on a car.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.” Her voice wobbled.
Afraid he’d get caught in another father-daughter squabble, Jackson said, “He’s heading over to Sadie’s for a haircut. Then he’ll be home.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“You bet.” He disconnected the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Your daughter loves you.”
“I know.”
Abby had been a freshman in college when Vern took over as the minister of the only church in Little Springs. She hadn’t grown up in this town and she’d confessed to Jackson more than once that she was going stir-crazy here. “Maybe it’s time for Abby to return to Dallas.” He popped his head out from beneath the front fender. “Can you keep away from the bottle if she leaves?” Jackson swallowed hard at the thought of Vern falling off the wagon. The old man had been like a father to him.
“I only had a few drinks after Elaine died. Haven’t touched another drop since and I don’t plan to.”
“Then let Abby go. I know you like having her around, but she misses her job.” She’d confided as much to Jackson a month after she’d arrived on her father’s doorstep.
Vern stood. “You’re one to lecture about letting go when you haven’t forgotten Katelyn after all these years.” He walked out the bay door without saying good-bye.
Jackson had never forgotten Katelyn—not even the dark years of drinking had erased her from his memory. As much as he’d love to spend time with her while she was in town, he worried that dredging up old memories would trigger the insecurities that had caused him to drink in the first place. He’d been sober for a little over three years now and owned a business. The thought of jeopardizing all that should be enough to convince him to keep his distance from her.
In the grand scheme of things, what did it really matter if he was lonely?
CHAPTER TEN
“I can’t imagine what people do here all day.” Shirley paced in front of the window like a caged animal late Friday afternoon.
“The same thing they do in other small towns,” Katelyn said.
“I don’t see why you have to clean right now.”
“Mom’s house is small—it won’t take long to tidy up.” Her mother had made her feel like crap for not taking care of her when she’d broken her ankle, and all week Katelyn had been looking for ways to make it up to her—cleaning, doing laundry and knocking down cobwebs on the porches.
“I’d be happy to pay for a professional cleaning service to come in after we return to St. Louis,” Shirley said.
“That’s nice of you to offer, but there’s no need to waste your money.” Katelyn ran the dust rag over the coffee table, then wiped off the fingerprints on the empty candy dish. She hadn’t gotten much sleep this week. Each night she’d lain awake until after midnight ruminating over her conversation with Shirley at the sandwich shop on the drive to Little Springs.
Katelyn had been so busy being nice, pleasing Don, going along with things, because she thought she was getting something better in return, when in reality she hadn’t only sacrificed parts of herself when she’d married Don; she’d neglected her relationship with her own mother.
Granted their mother-daughter bond wasn’t the kind found in storybooks, but Katelyn respected Birdie. Years ago when she’d told her parents she intended to go out of state to college, her father had balked, wanting Katelyn to remain close to home. Her mother had been the one to insist Katelyn follow her dreams no matter how far away from Little Springs they took her.
Katelyn couldn’t control Don’s feelings for her and his desire for a divorce, but she did have control over her relationship with her mother and she wanted them to grow closer.
Shirley stared out the living room window. “It’s odd that there’s only one hill in town.”
“The hill is man-made from leftover construction dirt after the highway went in decades ago.”
“This house is sitting on a toxic dump site?”
Why did Shirley have to be so dramatic all the time? “The ground isn’t contaminated, but my father once uncovered a wheelbarrow and a pair of men’s boots when he dug the storm shelter on the side of the house.”
“The workers should have leveled the land so the hill wasn’t so high.”
“No one expected a tourist town to pop up between Odessa and Pecos.” Little Springs had sprung up when the United States Army Corps of Engineers had dug Catfish Bay in 1956 to help with flood control. Bait shops and food shacks for fishermen were the first to open their doors. After the Fish and Wildlife Department made improvements to the lake—campsites, picnic areas and a swimming beach—families descended on the area, and local businesses like the Buy & Bag and Little Springs Bait & Hardware opened to cater to the growing tourist population.
“You missed a spot.” Shirley peered at a smudge on the table next to the leather recliner.
“There’s an extra cleaning rag beneath the kitchen sink, if you’d like to help.”
“I don’t want to get oil on my slacks.” Shirley turned back to the window. “What is there to do here for entertainment?”
“Eat and socialize.” Katelyn exchanged the furniture polish for glass cleaner and edged her mother-in-law out of the way.
“I don’t see any restaurants.”
“The two-story powder blue house is Mama’s Kitchen. Ginny offers a lunch special every day.”
Shirley’s stomach growled. “What’s the menu like?”
“Mostly comfort food.” Katelyn smiled. “The not-heart-healthy variety.”
“Your mother’s grocery store isn’t very big,” Shirley said. “Where do the ladies shop for cosmetics?”
“The toiletry section in the store carries makeup and skin-care products, but if you’re looking for higher-end items, you have to drive to Dillard’s at the Music City Mall in Odessa.”
“What’s the building with all the garbage sitting around it?”
“Gifford’s Resale. Gary buys other people’s castoffs, calls them antiques and sells them to tourists.”
“It’s a junk shop, then.”
“One person’s junk is another’s treasure.”
“I thought there wasn’t a gas station in town.”
“There isn’t.” Katelyn’s gaze zeroed in on the brick building next to Gifford’s Resale. “That’s an auto repair shop.” She’d spent hours inside the garage after school, sitting on the floor with her back propped against the wall. She worked on her sketches while Jackson had changed the oil in cars.
“I suppose there’s no theater nearby.”
“There’s Sadie’s beauty shop. That’s where you can catch up on all the drama in town.”
Shirley’s breath fogged up the glass Katelyn had wiped clean. “Where’s the salon?”
“Sadie lives behind the park. You can’t see her place from here.”
“There’s no other beauty shop in town?”
“Nope.”
“Is she any good?” Shirley fluffed her hair.
“You just got a perm.” Wait a minute. Katelyn didn’t have to care anymore if her mother-in-law went bald.
“What’s the hairstylist’s name again?”
“Sadie.”
Why Shirley obsessed over her appearance when she hadn’t shown any interest in dating or finding a companion to spend her twilight years with was a mystery to Katelyn. “I need to run the vacuum. Why don’t you sit on the back porch and enjoy the garden?”
“Does your mother own an ironing board?”
“Of course she has an ironing board.” Shirley acted as if Birdie lived in a sod house with dirt floors.
“Birdie must have forgotten where she put it,” Shirley said, “because the clothes she wore to work this morning looked like they’d been left in the dryer for days befo
re being taken out and folded.”
Ignoring the snooty comment, Katelyn said, “Check behind the door in the sewing room. The iron is on the dresser.”
After Shirley went upstairs, Katelyn put away the cleaning supplies and then went to the kitchen pantry to retrieve the vacuum, but instead took the bag of Cheetos from the shelf and sat at the table.
She propped her feet on the chair across from her and stuffed her face, wondering if there was such a thing as a mother-in-law whisperer. Katelyn had told herself that she’d allowed Shirley to cocaptain the household after she’d moved in with the family because she hadn’t wanted to subject the twins to their constant bickering. But on some conscious level she’d suspected that her mother-in-law had seen through Katelyn and guessed she’d married Don as much for the lifestyle he could give her as because she’d been in love with him—if not more so.
She licked her orange fingers, then returned the bag to the shelf and studied the food selection—mostly canned soups. She checked the freezer, which was stocked with hot dogs and single-serve pizzas. Nothing Shirley would eat.
After Katelyn ran the vacuum, she’d take Shirley on a field trip down to the grocery store and pick up the ingredients for lasagna—one of Birdie’s favorite meals.
• • •
“You know what they say about small stores.” Shirley unsnapped her belt after Katelyn parked the Mercedes in front of the Buy & Bag.
“What’s that?”
“The food isn’t fresh. Make sure you check the dates on everything you buy.”
Katelyn swallowed a sigh and said, “Don’t forget your purse.” Shirley grabbed her bag and followed Katelyn into the store.
The layout of the market hadn’t changed much since she’d worked there in high school. White walls, and the same signage with the Buy & Bag logo—a green B&B inside a white circle—hung above the aisles, listing the food products. A handful of green shopping carts and green handbaskets sat inside the store near the doors. Katelyn picked up a basket, then glanced at the empty registers. “Mom must be on her break or stocking food in one of the aisles.”
Shirley selected a box of Entenmann’s blueberry muffins off an endcap as they passed by. “Where’s the deli?”
“In the back.” She took the muffins and dropped them into the basket.
“Katelyn?” Birdie walked toward them.
“Hi, Mom. I thought I’d make lasagna for supper tonight.”
Birdie’s eyes lit up. “That sounds great.”
“Katelyn’s lasagna isn’t very good,” Shirley said. “We should grill chicken breasts instead.”
Birdie stiffened. “What’s wrong with my daughter’s lasagna?”
“She puts too much cheese in it.”
“What recipe are you using?” Birdie looked at Katelyn.
“Yours.”
“Then I’m sure it’s fine,” Birdie said.
“Katelyn’s meat loaf is good, but sometimes it’s a little dry.”
“If you don’t like my daughter’s food, why don’t you do the cooking?”
Katelyn opened her mouth to call a truce, but a male voice interrupted her.
“Look who came back to town.”
“Hello, Walter.” Katelyn smiled at her former high school classmate and now the manager of the store. Walter’s hairline had receded another inch since she’d last seen him and his cute wife at her father’s funeral. She held out her hand, but he ignored the gesture and hugged her. The scent of cheap cologne, cigarette smoke and mint chewing gum threatened to gag her. When she pulled away, her hair snagged on his eyeglasses, pulling them down his nose.
“Sorry,” she said, tugging the strand free.
He adjusted the glasses and smiled, showing off the gap between his front teeth. “You look great.”
“Thank you.”
Katelyn motioned to Shirley. “This is my mother-in-law, Shirley Pratt. Walter and I graduated from high school together. He’s the manager of the Buy & Bag.”
“Welcome to Little Springs,” he said, then looked back at Katelyn. “How long will you be in town?”
“Not long,” Shirley answered for Katelyn.
“We should go out for a beer and talk about old times.”
What old times? They’d run with different crowds in high school and Katelyn didn’t know his wife—he’d met her in college. “How’s your wife?”
He frowned. “We divorced a while back.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Tell me, young man,” Shirley said, “how’s your meat department?”
“Fresher than most chain grocery stores.” Walter offered his arm. “Would you like me to show you our best cuts?”
“Please.” Shirley walked off with him.
“Don’t say it, Mom.”
“Say what? That your monster-in-law is rude and obnoxious?”
“Yes.”
“How can you stand being around her? I’d rather someone stab me in the chest with a butter knife than wake up to her each morning.”
Katelyn plucked a box of lasagna noodles off the shelf, then added two jars of store-brand tomato sauce to the basket. “Do you have fresh basil at home?”
“What do you think?”
Katelyn headed over to the produce section to pick up basil and thyme and then added a tomato, an onion and a carton of mushrooms to the basket, while her mother hovered over her shoulder.
“I have a package of hamburger and a box of Texas toast in the freezer,” Birdie said.
“Then I think I have everything.” On the way up to the registers Birdie stopped when the front doors opened and an elderly woman entered the store.
“I didn’t think you were coming today, Clara.” Birdie looked at Katelyn. “Clara usually does her shopping in the morning.” She turned back to the blue-haired woman. “You remember my daughter, Katelyn, don’t you?”
“Of course. Hello, dear.”
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Smith.”
“What’s on your list today?” Birdie grabbed a handbasket, then took Clara’s elbow, and the women walked off.
Katelyn placed her items on the checkout counter and glanced around.
A pretty woman walked out of the aisle across from the register. “Sorry,” she said. “I was straightening the shelves.”
“No worries.”
“I’m Layla.” She began scanning the items in the basket. “You must be Birdie’s daughter.”
“Katelyn.” She admired the cashier’s bold eye makeup. On any other woman the black liner, false lashes and sparkling lavender shadow would look trashy.
“Your mom talks about you all the time. You have twins that recently graduated from high school.”
“I do. A boy and a girl.”
Layla set the empty basket aside. “Birdie says you’re a really good artist.”
Katelyn was momentarily speechless. Neither of her parents had shown much interest in her art before she’d left for college.
“You won some kind of scholarship.”
“I did.” Katelyn moved to the end of the counter and bagged her groceries.
Layla searched a laminated produce card until she found the code for the basil. “What’s it like . . . being an artist?”
The question stumped Katelyn. “I haven’t painted anything in years.” She’d forgotten small towns were filled with nosy people. “I’ve been busy raising my kids.”
“Birdie told me, but I forgot their names.”
“Michael and Melissa.”
“Your mom has their senior photos up in her locker. Melissa’s pretty. She looks like you.” Layla batted her eyelashes, hinting that Katelyn should return the compliment.
“You have gorgeous hair.”
The younger woman fluffed the ends. “Sadie custom-mixes my c
olor.”
“Maybe Sadie would fix your hair, Katelyn.” Shirley approached the register and smiled at Layla. “You’re young enough to wear long hair, dear, but my daughter-in-law is forty and women that age should wear their hair shorter.”
“Men like long hair,” Layla said.
Shirley scoffed. “I suppose that depends on what kind of men you’re trying to attract.”
Katelyn made a mental note to speak with Layla before she left town and apologize for her mother-in-law’s rudeness. Better yet, she should take out an ad in the next edition of the Springs Jotter and apologize to the whole town.
Layla winked. “I bet your husband likes your long hair.”
If Birdie hadn’t told her coworker that her son-in-law had filed for divorce, then Katelyn wasn’t going to mention it. She swiped her bank card through the machine and Layla handed her the receipt.
“I’m not sure about this sirloin.” Shirley set the meat on the conveyor belt.
“Walter knows his meats,” Layla said.
Shirley opened her purse. “How much did the stylist charge to do your hair?”
“A hundred and ten with tip.”
“Are we still talking about hair?” Birdie and Clara arrived at the register.
“I’d be happy to treat Katelyn to a new makeover,” Shirley said.
“Maybe my daughter doesn’t want to change her looks.”
“I’m only trying to help her situation.” Shirley removed a fifty-dollar bill from her wallet.
Layla took the money. “What situation is that?”
“My son filed for divorce and I think Katelyn should fight to save their marriage.”
So much for keeping her business private.
“My daughter changing her appearance isn’t going to fix their marital problems,” Birdie argued.
“She could also afford to lose ten pounds.”
Layla’s sparkly eyes widened.
“Why should Katelyn change anything about herself when your jackass of a son cheated on her?”
“One little indiscretion shouldn’t ruin a marriage.”
“Have you considered that my daughter might not want to save her marriage?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Shirley said.
