Baby, It's You: A Rainbow Valley Novel: Book 2

by Jane Graves

  Kari had two orders come up at once. Because she couldn’t remember which order she’d put in first, she decided to take both. She grabbed two of the plates and balanced them on her forearms the way she’d seen the other waitresses do, and held two more in her hands. If she could carry twice as much food at once, she’d get things to tables faster and keep her customers happy. Then maybe she’d get more than pocket change for tips.

  She headed for the kitchen door, feeling perfectly balanced and right on top of things. She turned ninety degrees to edge the door open, only to have it open the other way and smack her in the hip. The baskets slipped out of her hands and went flying. They hit the ground, bouncing their contents into the air about the time she twirled around and landed facedown on top of them, her forehead smacking against the floor.

  Her first thought was that somebody had come in the Out door. But when she turned over and sat up, she realized she’d tried to go out the In. And it was Bobbie who’d been coming in.

  “Jesus,” Bobbie said. “You broke my fingernail! I paid thirty bucks for that manicure!”

  “I’m sorry,” Kari said from the floor, hoping she didn’t have brain damage.

  “Always go to the right,” Bobbie said in the snottiest voice imaginable. “Good God. Were you raised in one of those wimpy countries where they drive on the left side of the road?”

  Gloria came through the door, saw Kari on the floor, and hurried over to help her up. “Kari! Oh, honey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Kari said, even though she wasn’t. Her hip hurt and her head throbbed. She had ketchup and mustard on her apron, mingling with a smear of gravy.

  Gloria helped her to her feet. Kari swapped aprons and kept on working, but the whole time she felt as if she was going to cry. Finally when her shift was over, she sat down on one of the stools at the counter, every muscle in her body screeching with pain. She’d never been so tired in her life. Never. What had she been thinking when she took this job?

  Rosie sat down next to her. “Remember how I said you’d get the hang of the job?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think maybe I spoke too soon.”

  Kari felt a rush of apprehension. “Look, I know I had some problems. But it was so busy today. Busier than usual, from what the other girls said.”

  “We have a lot of those days.”

  “And Bobbie—”

  “Bobbie can be a pain in the ass, but she gets the job done. Part of working here is learning how to deal with her, because I can’t spend my whole day breaking up squabbles. I’m your boss, not your mother.”

  Kari looked down at her lap, feeling miserable, and Rosie’s face softened. “Maybe Marc was right, sweetie. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  “I need this job.”

  Rosie sighed. “Why don’t you think about it and give me a call later? But I gotta tell you. If you keep working here, it’s going to be an uphill battle. For both of us. Sometimes it’s just best to call it quits.”

  With that, Rosie got up off the stool and circled around the counter to take a customer’s order. Kari stood up to take off her apron. Just the act of moving from the stool to her feet made her back muscles feel as if somebody had stabbed them with a red-hot poker. What had she been thinking when she’d taken this job?

  All the way back to the vineyard, she felt miserable. What was she supposed to do now? Rosie was right, of course. She wasn’t cut out to wait tables. Now she was going to have to tell Marc she couldn’t handle the job. He’d probably be happy about that. After all, hadn’t he wanted her to get on that bus and leave town?

  Of course, the Bomb’s air conditioner didn’t work, so by the time she got back to the vineyard, sweat was pouring down her temples and the back of her neck, plastering her hair against her skin. She pulled the car to a halt and killed the engine. Marc was down by the barn. She was going to have to go down there and tell him what had happened, but the thought of it made her sick to her stomach. If only she could have stuck it out. If only Bobbie hadn’t been such a horrible bitch. If only every muscle in her body wasn’t screaming with pain.

  She folded her arms on the steering wheel, rested her head there, and closed her eyes. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

  “Taking a nap?”

  Kari jerked her head up to find Marc standing by the driver’s window. Had she actually fallen asleep?

  He opened the door. Damn it. That meant she had to get out.

  She swung her legs around and made an attempt to stand, but it took her three stabs at it before she finally came to her feet. A moan of pain started to come out of her mouth, but she gritted her teeth and kept it to herself. It wasn’t remotely fair that he was hot and sweaty but looked gorgeous, while she was hot and sweaty and looked like roadkill.

  “So how did your first day go?”

  She glared at him.

  “You seem to be a little sore.”

  “I’m a lot sore.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll get easier.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “Sure it will. You’re just not used to spending that much time on your feet.”

  Kari said nothing.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Trust me. You’re tougher than you think you are.”

  Clearly he thought that just by speaking those words he could make them happen. Well, there was a whole lot more to this situation than just a little positive thinking.

  “I made a mess of things,” Kari said. “Maybe…maybe it’s best if I don’t go back.”

  Her words hung in the air for several seconds. Then Marc turned away and shook his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “So you’re giving up right off the bat?”

  “I’m not giving up. I just found out I’m not cut out for waiting tables.”

  “Is there anything you are cut out for?”

  “Just because I haven’t found my niche yet doesn’t mean—”

  “Your niche? Seriously? You’re not trying out a hobby, Kari. You’re working to support yourself.”

  “I know, but—”

  “So you quit?”

  Kari hated this. “Not yet.”

  “But you’re going to.”

  She was silent again.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Hey! You were the one who said how stupid it was that I was going to wait tables!”

  “No. I believe I told Rosie how wrong I thought it was for her to hire you. Looks as if I was right.” He glanced at her feet. “Why are you wearing shoes like that to wait tables?”

  “It’s all I have.”

  “There’s most of your problem. You need sneakers.”

  “No kidding.”

  “So find a way to get some.”

  “Yeah. I’ll reach into my magical suitcase. They’re right next to the baby unicorns.”

  “Take this seriously and you might find a solution.”

  “Marc! I’m dying here!”

  “So quit. I’ll buy you another bus ticket, take you to the station, and you can go back to Houston and marry the asshole. There you go. Problem solved.”

  With that, he turned around dismissively and strode back to the barn, leaving Kari feeling like the biggest loser alive.

  Damn you! You have no idea how I feel!

  She folded her arms and leaned against the car, feeling miserable. She hurt in places she didn’t even know she had. She had no decent work shoes and no money to buy them with. The work was impossibly hard, and all she wanted to do was quit.

  But then what?

  All at once she realized she’d done this all her life. She’d always told herself it was just because she saw something better on the horizon and didn’t want to waste her time, but the truth was that when the going got tough, she quit. She quit the swim team in tenth grade because practice clashed with an afternoon TV show she wanted to watch. In college, as soon as a class got hard, she dropped it, which was why
it took her five years to get a liberal arts degree. She’d run away from her own wedding because she hadn’t had the backbone to call it off before she was sitting at the church in a wedding dress. Now she was running away from Rainbow Valley because she refused to stick it out in a job that was harder than she’d anticipated.

  She hated the way Marc had looked at her. He thought she was as useless as Greg did. As her father did. As Rosie did. Was there anyone in this life who respected her? Even a little bit?

  She had the most gut-wrenching feeling that the answer to that question was no. And that was the worst blow of all. The trouble was, if she quit this job, it meant she really was at rock bottom. What was she going to do then? Crawl back to her father and beg him to give her job back? That job that wasn’t really a job at all, but simply a means her father used to allow him to call the shots? If she couldn’t even handle this job, how was she supposed to get another one that didn’t involve working for her father?

  They’re right. All of them. You are useless.

  She’d known Marc all of two days, yet the fact that he was a good, dependable, honorable man was so crystal clear to her that she’d have stated it under oath. And when he’d turned his back on her and walked away, his disappointment still lingered in the very air she breathed. Oddly enough, of all the people in her life right now, he was the one whose respect she craved more than anything. With every minute that passed, that feeling ate away at her a little more, and pretty soon it hurt worse than her strained muscles and her pounding head, which meant there was only one thing she could do.

  She got into the Bomb and drove back to Rainbow Valley, ignoring the pain, ignoring the odds stacked against her, ignoring the fact that Rosie had essentially fired her but had been kind enough not to actually say the words. She parked in the lot behind the restaurant and came through the back door, trying not to look as if she could barely walk. Rosie was sitting at the counter poking at a laptop. Kari slid onto the stool beside her.

  Rosie sighed. “Honey, what are you doing back here? You look like you’re about to drop.”

  Kari lifted her chin. Oh, God. My neck muscles! “I need to talk to you.”

  “I thought things were settled.”

  “No. Things aren’t settled. I have something else I need to say.”

  “Talk fast,” Rosie said. “I have a lot of work to do before the dinner hour gears up.”

  Kari swallowed hard and started in. “I know you think I’m a lousy waitress and that there’s no hope I’ll ever be a good one. I know Bobbie hates me, so there’s that problem, too. But I’m not quitting.”

  Rosie raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right. I’m going to come into this place every single shift I’m scheduled and try my damnedest to do a good job. And you can bet I’m going to screw up. I’m going to drop things. My tickets will be out of balance. Some of the customers will probably yell at me, and I’ll earn zero tips. But I’m not going to make it easy for you to get rid of me, because I’m not going to quit. I am not going to quit. If you want me out of here, you’re going to have to fire me.”

  Rosie sighed and shook her head. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because I need this job.”

  “Part of life is knowing when to quit.”

  “Yeah, sometimes it is. But since I already know how to do that, now I need to learn how to keep going.”

  Rosie stared at her a long time with a deadpan expression. Then she looked away, shaking her head. “I can’t afford to lose any more dishes.”

  “I know.”

  “The hourly wage sucks. If you don’t make any tips, you’d be better off rummaging through sofa cushions for loose change.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “No telling what Bobbie’s liable to do if you show up here tomorrow. Remember, I can only call the sheriff after she’s committed assault and battery.”

  “I hear you.”

  Rosie twisted her mouth with irritation. “You’re not cut out for this, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Rosie tapped her fingertips on the Formica counter, and Kari could almost feel her brain working. Then, with a heavy sigh, Rosie slid off her barstool. “You got the six a.m. to three p.m. shift tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

  As Rosie strode into the kitchen, Kari felt as if she’d voluntarily signed up for life in prison. But she still had a job. As she slid off the stool, the backs of her calves felt as if they were on fire.

  Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow! OW!

  She walked as delicately as she could to the back door and got into the Bomb. Coming back there tomorrow morning would likely be hell on earth all over again, but she was going to do it no matter what. If she dropped dead, so be it. At least she’d die trying.

  She drove back to the vineyard, where she parked the Bomb. Then she walked resolutely up the steps to Marc’s deck and knocked on his back door. Several seconds later, he answered. Before he could even open his mouth, she started in.

  “Just so you’ll know, I went back to town. I talked to Rosie, and I’m keeping my job.”

  Marc’s eyebrows rose. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right. It’s the worst job I’ve ever had. I hurt in places I didn’t even know existed. But even if it kills me, I’m going back. So don’t you ever again suggest that I should go back to Houston and marry Greg. No matter what I have to do, that is never going to happen. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand completely.”

  “Good. Now I’m going to stumble back to the cottage, take a shower, and fall into a coma. If you’ll excuse me?”

  She turned around and walked back down the steps, then headed down the path to the cottage. She let Boo out to run around the yard and pee, then went inside to sit down before she fell down. Then she saw tiny teeth marks in the legs of two of the wooden chairs at the dinette table. Great. That was just what she needed. Boo eating the cottage, one bite at a time.

  She rested for a minute, then went in to take a shower. It felt good, but not good enough. She put on a robe and collapsed on the sofa again. For the next hour, she watched a little TV, avoiding her ex-favorite shows like Hell’s Kitchen or Restaurant: Impossible. People yelling at other people in restaurant kitchens just didn’t hold the same entertainment value for her it had the day before.

  She still hadn’t heard a word from her father. Not one. More than once since she’d left Houston, she’d imagined him telling her he understood why she’d run and that he supported her decision not to marry Greg.

  When would she ever learn?

  When she was ten, she’d fantasized that he would surprise her with a trip to Disney World, and he’d ride Splash Mountain with her and not care if he got wet. When she was twelve, she imagined him sitting through her ballet recital, then telling her she was the next Anna Pavlova. When she was sixteen, she envisioned him coming to her soccer game and cheering when she made a goal. But if all those things had never happened, what made her think anything would change now?

  Then she heard a knock at her door.

  With a deep breath, she hoisted herself off the sofa and walked gingerly to the door. She opened it to find Marc on the porch. He brushed past her and came inside. He carried a big box, which he set down on the dinette table.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “You’re going to have a hard time keeping that promise.”

  “What?”

  “To never quit your job. You can’t expect to be successful at something if you don’t have the proper tools.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He reached into the box. “First—ibuprofen. It’s an anti-inflammatory, so it’ll take away the muscle pain.” He grabbed a glass from a kitchen cabinet, filled it with water, and handed her two of the tablets. She stared at them dumbly.

  “Kari. Take the pills.”

  “Marc—”

  “Take them.”

  She took the pills
and downed them as he reached into the box again.

  “Your biggest problem is shoes,” Marc said. “What size do you wear?”

  “Six.”

  “Then these will be too big.” He pulled a pair of raggedy sneakers out of the box and put them on the floor. “But here are two pairs of socks. Wear both of them and the shoes will probably be okay.”

  “Whose shoes are they?” she asked.

  “Angela’s.”

  “Your daughter? You’re giving me her shoes?”

  “Do you need them?”

  She didn’t know how to answer that without appearing helpless. But maybe it was just as bad to appear ungrateful.

  “Yes.”

  “Then wear them.” He pulled a heating pad from the box, which he plugged in and laid across the pillow at the end of the sofa.

  “Your back’s bound to hurt. Sit down and lean against that.”

  She sat down, feeling like a Raggedy Ann that had gotten hit by a train. She turned and pulled her feet up on the sofa, resting her back against the pad. As it heated up, she couldn’t believe what Marc pulled out of the box next. If her muscles weren’t ripped to shreds, she’d have leapt off the sofa and grabbed it right out of his hand.

  “Wine?” she said.

  “Yep. Nature’s anesthesia.”

  He grabbed a wineglass from a kitchen cabinet, uncorked the bottle with a practiced twist and pull, and filled the glass. He handed it to her.

  “Drink this.”

  She sipped the wine. Oh, God. It filled her mouth with the most amazing flavor, and as she swallowed, she felt the soft burn all the way down her throat. Her body slumped as the wine went south, bringing on a sense of relaxation she certainly hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

  “Good wine,” she said, sipping it again. “Really good.”

  “It’s our 2010 Cabernet. Our best vintage yet. Just the right amount of rain and sun that season. Most years we’re not that lucky.”

  “So luck plays a part?”

  “It’s about the only thing you can count on. Not having any.”

  “Tough business?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Marc pulled out two more things—Band-Aids and triple antibiotic ointment—and put them on the coffee table. Then he sat down on the other end of the sofa.