Running on Empty

by Sandra Balzo

  AnnaLise's cellphone gave a two-tone ping, indicating a new text message. She glanced at it and hit delete, but not before noting the time. 'It's not quite eleven thirty. Will Tucker be at work already?'

  'Of course,' Daisy said, leading the way down the block. 'Torch is open all day.'

  'They're serving lunch, too?' To AnnaLise's knowledge, the Stantons had obtained a liquor license and created a small kitchen in one corner in order to offer light hors d'oeuvres during club hours. She didn't realize they'd put in a full, professional-grade food service operation.

  'I have a hunch Tucker believes in giving the people what they want.' Joy stopped next to a little red convertible with a tan top and nodded down the block. 'Go take a look, and I'll catch you later.'

  'Sounds good. I think I'll run the lake path tomorrow or Monday. Want to come?'

  'Sure, but make it tomorrow,' Joy said, climbing into her convertible. 'Monday's the parade, as a born-and-bred Sutherton girl ought to recall.'

  Of course, the Labor Day Parade. With the excitement of Frat Pack Night, AnnaLise had forgotten the other holiday.

  As Joy backed out of her parking space, AnnaLise and Daisy continued down Main Street to Torch.

  The entrance of the former Griggs Market was set at an angle facing the intersection of Main and Second Street. Around the corner on Second was the residential entrance to the townhouse-style apartment where Daisy lived. And, at one time, her husband Tim and AnnaLise lived with her.

  The commercial plate-glass doors of the market had been replaced with rich wooden ones that gleamed in the morning light. They were flanked by newly installed sidelights, each featuring an elongated flame on a matte-black background and the word 'Torch'.

  Despite Daisy's assurances, the place looked closed. AnnaLise leaned down to peer through the translucent white center of the sidelight flames. Detecting movement inside, she raised her hand to rap on one of the doors when it abruptly swung open.

  'Sorry, man,' a boy of about seventeen said. 'I mean, ma'am.'

  AnnaLise, who had backed off just in time to save face, literally, was young enough to prefer the nearly cross-gender term 'man' over 'ma'am'. 'Not your fault. I didn't know the place was open.'

  As AnnaLise spoke, she realized the boy held what looked like a miniature to-go cup, just the right size to accommodate a double shot of espresso. And it smelled great.

  Before she could ask him where he'd gotten his drink, the kid was halfway across the street and heading for the beach. No matter, the scent of espresso from inside Torch still hung in the air.

  Daisy entered and threw out her arms. 'Isn't it wonderful?'

  Following her, AnnaLise took in the revolutionary change.

  The shelves and counters of the market were gone and the walls of the square room were painted slate gray. In addition to round tables on the floor, a raised bar-level had been installed in front of three walls, giving those seated there a place to set their drinks while enjoying a clear sight-line to the half-circle stage on the fourth wall.

  Tucker Stanton was cross-legged on said stage, a scraggly attempt at growing a mustache and goatee against his toffee-colored skin making the eighteen-year-old look even younger. He was alternately slapping splayed fingers on a bongo drum and reciting something that sounded like a cross between haiku and 'There Was a Young Man From Nantucket'.

  Mercifully, Tucker caught sight of them before he got to the punch line. 'AnnaLise! Welcome!'

  Hopping up, he weaved his way through the tables to give AnnaLise a hug. Tucker Ulysses Stanton might be too young to drink the alcohol he served, but AnnaLise thought he had a great chance of succeeding at pretty much anything he put his mind — and his father's money — to. He was just that kind of kid.

  But a bongo? And blue haiku?

  'How do you like the place?' Tucker asked.

  'It's great,' AnnaLise answered honestly. 'But I thought you were opening a nightclub.'

  'It is a club―' Tucker started.

  'But not just at night,' Daisy added, looking pleased with herself and Tucker. 'I asked him why he'd spend all that money to be open only four hours a day.'

  'And your mother was right,' Tucker said. 'I'd already decided to put in an espresso bar for the after-work crowd, so opening a few hours in the morning for the caffeine-cravers seemed natural.'

  'A coffee shop.' AnnaLise was taking in the mostly full tables. 'How does―'

  'Oh, don't worry,' Tucker said hurriedly, looking a little hurt. 'I checked with Mama to make sure she was down with it. Besides, Torch isn't a coffee shop, it's a coffeehouse. The "cool, man" kind, like with Dobie Gillis.'

  And Maynard G. Krebs, which explained the sparse facial hair on the guy who looked more like a young Will Smith than Bob Denver. 'There's no way you could have seen The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis. That was more Daisy's generation.'

  'Excuse me,' Daisy protested. 'Only if I watched TV practically in utero. That was late 1950s, I think.'

  ''59 to '62,' Tucker said. 'It was based on a collection of short stories.'

  'By Max Shulman,' AnnaLise said, getting in another shot for the written word. 'But how did you ever see it, Tucker?'

  'DVD,' Tucker said. 'If you want, I can lend them to you.'

  'I'd love that,' Daisy jumped in. She'd wandered over to the stage and was tapping on Tucker's bongo with a fingernail.

  'Great. I'll bring volume one tonight.' Tucker turned his boyish charm on AnnaLise. 'Torch is premiering a tribute to Rodgers and Hammerstein, featuring our very own chanteuse. Can you make it? I'll even waive the cover charge.'

  It was a thoughtful, showman-style invitation and any other time AnnaLise would have jumped at the chance. But tonight was Frat Pack Night. You just didn't miss that, show tunes or not.

  'I'd love to, but I have a date with some old friends.' She turned to Daisy. 'Maybe my mother...'

  'Oh, she'll be here,' Tucker said.

  'I certainly will.' Daisy let the drum go silent. 'I haven't missed an opening yet.'

  AnnaLise was grateful to hear that she'd found a place to socialize so close to home. As in downstairs. Especially since daughter was abandoning mother on the first of three nights home. In order to be back at work on Wednesday, as AnnaLise had promised, she'd need to be on the road very early on Tuesday.

  'Cool,' Tucker said. 'Hey, can I get either of you an espresso?'

  Daisy declined on the basis of having drunk nearly a pot of coffee at Mama's, but AnnaLise quickly accepted. 'I'd love a large decaf, non-fat, no-foam latte. With a sugar substitute.'

  'Coming right up,' Tucker said, turning to a woman who had just appeared behind the granite-topped counter. 'Sue, one large "what's-the-point", please.'

  Daisy laughed and gave Tucker a hug. 'Isn't he just adorable, AnnaLise?'

  'He is that,' AnnaLise said, and meant it.

  As they left the store with her latte, AnnaLise felt completely relaxed for the first time since Mama's call about the blood drive.

  Daisy seemed as sharp as ever. And if that weren't enough, Tucker was an absolute gem — almost like AnnaLise had a younger brother living at home to keep an eye on things — and her mother obviously enjoyed having him there. All was right with the world again.

  As AnnaLise rounded the corner onto Second Street, her cellphone rang. She started to hand Daisy her latte, but the older woman was lagging a bit so AnnaLise set the drink on a window ledge and went handbag-diving.

  When she finally came up with the phone it was blinking 'one missed call'. AnnaLise's options were 'view' or 'ignore'. She chose the former and a display came up 'Ben's cell'. She snapped the phone closed and shoved it back into her purse.

  'Sorry, Daisy. I should have just ignored it.' Picking up her latte, AnnaLise looked around.

  No Mother Griggs in sight.

  AnnaLise retraced her steps around the corner and onto Main Street. Daisy was back in front of the coffeehouse/nightclub, one eye pressed to a sidelight like it was the viewing end of
a telescope.

  'What's up?' AnnaLise called. 'Is Tucker waxing dirty again?'

  Daisy turned, a horrified expression on her face. 'AnnaLise, quick,' she whispered. 'Tell your father to call the police. Some crazy bearded man with a drum has broken into our market.'

  Chapter Five

  'So what did you do?' Sheree Pepper asked AnnaLise.

  'I didn't know what to do, but the moment only lasted for... well, a moment. Then she was Daisy again.'

  'Weird.'

  'You're telling me,' AnnaLise said.

  'Like she was possessed or something.' The two old friends were sitting in the parlor of Sheree's bed and breakfast, the Sutherton Inn.

  Sheree had redecorated when she bought the place, each room now virtually museum-quality. The parlor featured bright yellow walls, whitewashed woodwork, a floral couch and one cherry red chair.

  Sheree — the third corner of what Mama had called AnnaLise's social triangle — unwound her tanned legs and stood to retrieve an opened bottle of Cabernet from the sideboard. 'More wine?'

  'It is past noon, so what the hell. Thanks.' AnnaLise held out her glass, wondering for the umpteenth time why Chuck Greystone had preferred tiny, brunette AnnaLise to statuesque, red-headed, sexpot Sheree. 'I know there's some rational explanation for Daisy's behavior, but it was downright spooky.'

  'Rational is as rational does,' Sheree said. 'Just what are you thinking? Alzheimer's?'

  'God, no.' AnnaLise shivered involuntarily at the thought. Her friend always had possessed a knack for voicing scenarios that AnnaLise would be trying hard not to envision. 'More like a vitamin deficiency. Something easy. Daisy's too young for Alzheimer's.'

  Sheree remounted her chair with the grace of a ballerina. 'Early onset, maybe? I've heard about people getting it while they were still in their forties.'

  Getting it, AnnaLise thought. Like catching a cold.

  Another shiver told AnnaLise that she couldn't get her head, or even body, around the idea that something serious could be wrong with Daisy. AnnaLise looked at the antique schoolhouse clock on the wall. 'It's nearly three and I haven't heard back from Dr. Stanton.'

  'Give the guy a break, huh? It's the Saturday of a long weekend, and you called him all of an hour ago, right when you came through my front door. We haven't even finished this bottle of wine I popped to calm you down. Besides, Daisy's OK now, right?'

  'Fine, so far as I can tell. Or I wouldn't have left her.'

  Even as she said it, AnnaLise wondered whether Daisy was indeed 'fine', or prodigal daughter had just convinced herself of that so she could escape to the normalcy of the inn. Bobby Bradenham's mother wasn't the only one capable of ignoring things in hopes they would just go away.

  But the fact was, Daisy had shown no embarrassment at her haunted — if brief — detour down memory lane. After an awkward hesitation, AnnaLise — partly from nerves, partly in disbelief that her mother could be serious — had simply laughed off Daisy's panic. 'Are you kidding? Tucker playing a bongo in our old market? Daddy would have loved it!'

  Daisy squinted at her, as though it had been AnnaLise who'd departed from the main line, then broke into a laugh herself. They'd gone into the apartment, Daisy to start lunch and AnnaLise to unpack.

  So... could Daisy have been kidding? Maybe she was sitting at Philomena's right now, telling Mama about AnnaLise's brain-fart, the way AnnaLise was discussing Daisy's with Sheree.

  'This place looks great,' AnnaLise said, trying to be casually social with her old friend.

  'So you've told me. Twice.' Sheree was many things, but sensitive wasn't one of them. She leaned toward AnnaLise. 'Now you listen to me, honey. You'll talk with Dr. Stanton when he calls you back. Until then, there's nothing―'

  Neither of them had heard the door open, but suddenly in the room appeared a man, the same one AnnaLise had seen at the restaurant.

  'Jim,' Sheree said, hand to her heart. 'You scared me near senseless.'

  A look of apology on the handsome face. 'I'm sorry. I thought all the other guests were off on a frolic.'

  He extended his hand to AnnaLise. 'I'm James Duende. Didn't I see you at Mama's this morning?'

  Despite the Latin surname, there was no accent in his speech beyond a trace of north-east corridor.

  'You did. I'm AnnaLise Griggs.'

  'AnnaLise and I went to school together,' Sheree said.

  'A pleasure to meet you.'

  'Are you visiting for the weekend?' AnnaLise asked.

  'And beyond,' Duende said, cracking a grin. 'I have a job that will keep me here for the duration of the winter, God help me.'

  'Hey, skiers pay big money for the pleasure of Sutherton's ivory-colored slopes,' Sheree said, before AnnaLise could ask Duende what he did.

  'Jim lives above the dining room,' the innkeeper continued, with a meaningful gleam.

  'Ahh, number thirteen.' AnnaLise turned her own blind eye to the 'gleam' part. 'You're a brave man.'

  Room thirteen had become another Sutherton legend after a spurned lover barricaded himself in it and drank poison before throwing himself out the window. His ghost would probably still haunt the place if the 'poison' hadn't been cheap room-shampoo and his fall barely nine feet, cushioned by newly tilled soil below.

  But Sutherton didn't let go of its legends easily. More's the pity, since Daisy's siphoning of Mrs. Bradenham was destined to become one. Probably number one.

  'I have to admit, I'm a sucker for a good story,' Duende said. 'Besides, I can stomp around all I want without bothering anyone below, except during breakfast.'

  'Nonetheless,' Sheree said coyly, 'some noises carry. '

  Damn, thought AnnaLise. Another one bites Sheree's dust. No matter, though. AnnaLise wasn't in search of a man and certainly not one who was living indefinitely in a rooming house of sorts in small-town North Carolina, and shtupping the innkeeper to boot.

  Still, an extra man, no matter whose, would make Frat Pack Night even more fun. 'Are you coming to Sal's tonight?'

  'What's tonight?'

  Sheree looked put out. Apparently she'd had other plans for the evening. And 'Jim'.

  Well, that's too bad, AnnaLise thought. It wouldn't kill Sheree to share. 'I'm sure you've met the Frat Pack.' The sisterhood took over the inn whenever they visited. It would be hard to miss them.

  But apparently he had. 'Pardon?'

  'Joy Tamarack and her gang,' Sheree explained, a tad sourly.

  AnnaLise noticed. 'Why the long face, Seabiscuit?'

  Duende laughed, but Sheree's scowl grew more pronounced. 'What are you, five?'

  'Sorry. Coming home can regress a person.'

  'You don't live around here any longer?' Duende asked.

  'No, I went to college in Wisconsin and took a job there after graduation.'

  'So you're back to see family. I couldn't help but notice the resemblance this morning.'

  Since Daisy was blonde and blue-eyed and AnnaLise dark-haired and brown-eyed, Duende was probably assuming Mama was AnnaLise's... well, mama. It was a common mistake.

  'It's a little hard to explain, but my mother is Daisy Griggs, the blonde woman I was sitting with this morning. Mama is her best friend.'

  'Gotcha.' If he did, he was a quick study. Duende changed the subject. 'So, what do you do in Wisconsin?'

  'I'm a reporter for the city's daily, the Urban Times.'

  'General assignment?'

  The guy obviously knew something about the biz. 'No, I cover the police beat. Are you a journalist, too?'

  But James Duende was backing toward the door. 'Nope. I've just known a couple. Well, I'd better get going. Nice to meet you, AnnaLise. See you later, Sheree.'

  And he was gone.

  AnnaLise looked at Sheree. 'He was in a hurry all of sudden.'

  'Not always.' Now an arch look. 'Mostly he takes his time.'

  The last thing AnnaLise wanted to hear about was Sheree's love life. Or, more precisely, her sex life.

  Like James Du
ende, change the subject. 'Why were you looking so disapproving of Joy and her band of sisters? Did they break something again?'

  So far as AnnaLise knew, the Pack had broken one lamp, two chairs and an antique chamber pot. At least as of the last statement.

  'No. They just gave me notice. They won't be back next year.'

  No Frat Pack? It was unthinkable. Not that it should matter to AnnaLise. You don't live here any longer, she reminded herself. Still...

  'I just saw Joy and she didn't say anything about this being their last year here.' A suspicion crept in. 'Are they going to Asheville instead?'

  Lying southwest off the Blue Ridge Parkway, Asheville touted its 'arts community, diverse outdoor adventures, a vibrant and inviting downtown, numerous historic and architectural attractions, and unique shopping options'.

  Let's just say that if Sutherton and Asheville were siblings, the latter would be the one mom liked better.

  'Never.' Sheree was aghast. 'This is Joy and her gang we're talking about.'

  True. Imagine the damage the women could do to the art galleries of Asheville. And what it would cost them to make restitution.

  'Joy's planning to stay in Hart's Landing,' Sheree continued. 'Free of charge.'

  AnnaLise found that hard to believe. 'Does her ex know yet?'

  'I doubt it. But Joy usually gets what she wants from Dickens. Makes you wonder what she has on him.'

  Echoing what AnnaLise had thought earlier. That didn't stop her, though, from saying, 'Maybe he still loves Joy.'

  Sheree threw her a look dripping with pity. 'You really are still five, aren't you?'

  'Because I'm not jaded and cynical?' Or am, but try not to show it?

  'Exactly. Dickens Hart loves Dickens Hart. He created one empire and now he's building another, zoning it mixed-use and naming it for himself. Along the way, Hart's destroyed plenty of people and will destroy more. And I'm betting Joy knows just which of his closets are holding the skeletons.' Sheree sniffed. 'Frat Pack weekend was eighteen "room nights" I could always depend on. I just hope this isn't the start of a slippery slope.'

  'You've never had a problem with Hotel Lux or the mountain rental properties, have you?' Fact was, the 300-room hotel and assorted mountain chalets and cottages were essential to Sutherton's tourist business. Joy's thirteen rooms couldn't accommodate every one of the area's visitors.