by Molly Cannon
After glancing at Etta he noticed, for a change, she didn’t look quite so unhappy to see him. In fact, she smiled, a big old happy glad-to-see-you smile, throwing him completely off balance and putting him on guard. She was wearing a gray faded Chicago museum T-shirt over red plaid pajama pants, and her short hair was a tangled mess. She looked adorable. That set off a few alarms in his head. He didn’t want to think she was adorable. No way. She was an out of bounds female as far as he was concerned. A rare smile wasn’t going to change that. No siree. Not on your life. But maybe because of Belle’s stunt last night, they’d fashioned more than a temporary ceasefire. If so, he welcomed it for as long as it lasted.
She walked back to the stove and turned the flame on under the skillet. “You’re welcome to join us. Besides, I need to talk to you about a few things.”
“Uh oh, what did I do now?” He hung his hat on the rack by the back door.
“Don’t worry. You’re off the hook this time. Besides, from the sound of it, I think we may be the ones intruding on you.” She put a slab of butter in the hot skillet and started dipping the bread into an egg-milk mixture.
“Oh? How’s that?” He wasn’t sure where this was going, so his question held a note of caution.
Beulah was getting plates down from the cabinet and turned to set them on the counter. “I’m all packed for my stay at your house, Donny Joe. But there’s been a last-minute change in plans.”
He walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Now listen, Beulah. You can’t stay here during construction. We’ve been over all that.”
Beulah patted his arm. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not arguing, but now Etta and Daphne need a place to stay, too.”
Donny Joe looked at Etta and felt panic rise in his chest. She wasn’t leaving as planned? This could only mean trouble. “I thought you were going back to Chicago.”
She smiled brightly, like she was sharing the best news ever. “I was, but I got a better offer. Daphne and I are going to stay here with Beulah until Belle gets back from her trip. Aren’t we, Daphne?” At the mention of her mother’s name the little girl nodded her head in a resigned manner that pulled at his heart strings.
Donny Joe didn’t think too much of Belle Green at the moment, but he hid his opinion behind an enthusiastic declaration. “Well, how about that? I’d say that is an offer too good to pass up.”
“But with the kitchen renovation getting under way, we can easily go to a motel for the week. We don’t have to stay with you.” Etta seemed overly anxious to assure him that they weren’t his responsibility.
Well, shit. And damn it all. He couldn’t stand by and let relatives of Miz Hazel go stay in some sleazy flea trap motel on the highway. Not when he had plenty of room to spare. Her ghost would come back and pay him nightly visits if he did that. But having Etta Green under foot day and night? They’d likely be at each other’s throats the whole time. Hell, he should get a blasted medal for even considering it. But hemming and hawing wouldn’t change the fact that he didn’t really have a choice. He bit the bullet and extended the invitation.
“Don’t be silly,” he said magnanimously. “This has been set up for a long time. No reason to change things now. And there’s plenty of room for everybody. The more the merrier, right?”
“We really get to stay at your house, Donny Joe?” Daphne seemed to perk up at the idea.
“If your Aunt Etta gives the okay,” he said. He glanced over and raised his eyebrows, waiting for her answer.
“It is the most practical solution, Etta,” Beulah said, chiming in.
Daphne jumped up and down. “Oh, please, can we, Aunt Etta? It’ll be so much fun.”
He smiled at Daphne’s enthusiasm. He’d be lying if he said the idea of having Etta Green under his roof didn’t give him a bad case of heartburn, but for Beulah and Daphne’s sake he’d do his best to hide the way he felt. And on the other hand, who knows? It might give them a chance to hammer out the kinks in their working arrangement before she left town for good.
Donny Joe winked at Daphne and walked over to look at the bread browning in the pan. “How ’bout we make a trade, Etta. I’ll take some of this delicious smelling French toast, and you and Daphne can have one of my extra bedrooms for the week.”
Daphne tugged on Etta’s sleeve to get her attention. “That’s a good deal, Aunt Etta. Don’t you think? So can we? Can we stay with Donny Joe?” Daphne was dancing around like a puppy hoping to play fetch with her favorite stick.
He could see it on her face when Etta finally gave in. She apparently didn’t like the idea any better than he did, but he could also see she didn’t have the heart to disappoint her niece. “Oh, okay. But if we get in your way, Donny Joe, just let us know, and we’ll move to the Caravan Motel out on Highway 80.”
Daphne let out a squeal. “Yippee, I better go get Sarge.”
Beulah stopped her before she could run out of the room. “Hold on there, missy. We aren’t going anywhere until tomorrow night. First breakfast, and then we’ll have plenty of time to get your belongings together.”
“Okay, sorry, Cousin Beulah.” Daphne grinned and climbed back onto the stool. Etta transferred the toast from the pan to a couple of the plates on the counter and Daphne poured syrup on the French toast, and then shook powdered sugar all over them. Donny Joe winced at the big mess she was making of things, but she was laughing, and for the moment didn’t seem to be dwelling on the fact that her mother had run off and left her behind.
Beulah picked up the plates. “Let’s eat in the sunroom, Daphne. You two can join us when you’re ready.”
Daphne hopped down from the stool and followed Beulah out the door. “You’ll have to put the powdered sugar on the rest of them, Donny Joe.”
“I can handle it, kiddo.” He picked up the sugar shaker and bounced it in his hand. Once Daphne was out of earshot he asked, “So, what happened with Belle?”
“My darling sister stole away in the dead of night with Roger, but being ever considerate, she left a note. Take care of Daphne. I’ll be back when I’m good and ready. I’m so mad, I could spit. I thought she’d have sense enough to tell him she couldn’t go anywhere right now.” Etta stabbed the remaining toast with more force than necessary and put them on the other two plates. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Sure. You know, I really do have plenty of room to put everyone up if that’s what you’re worried about. And it’s only for a couple of days before she’s back, right?” He poured some syrup onto his toast.
“I know.” Etta sighed and braced herself on the edge of the counter. “After the hard time I’ve given you, I can’t believe you’re being so nice. Last night and again this morning. And I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, Donny Joe. It’s just that I really need to get home to Chicago. How long is a trip to Paris, anyway? Thanks to Belle I really don’t have any choice but to stay here for now.”
With a wink he said, “So, I guess that thing we talked about where we communicate strictly through texts and emails will have to wait a while, too.”
She smiled. “I’ll try to stay out of your hair.”
“Don’t worry about me. I guess you know a crew will be here first thing Monday to tear out these cabinets.” He walked over to the pantry door and peeked inside.
“That’s what Beulah said. I guess I better get some boxes. It’ll take most of the weekend to pack up this kitchen. How in the world did Beulah think she could handle this on her own? I’m a little overwhelmed at the prospect myself.”
Donny Joe bristled. Did she really think he’d leave Beulah to handle a job this big? “I have it covered. Help is coming this afternoon. I didn’t think that was a chore your grandmother and Beulah could manage alone. If it wasn’t for the funeral a lot of this would have been taken care of last week.”
Etta turned off the burner and moved the skillet to the back of the stove. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to stop underestimating you, Donny Joe.”
He
shrugged, pretending false modesty. “It’s a common mistake. With my boyish good looks and winning personality people forget that I’m an astute businessman, too.”
The look she gave him clearly said she wasn’t impressed. “I’ll try to remember that. Are you ready to eat?”
“Is the sky blue? I’m so hungry I could eat a dinosaur.” He picked up the two plates and followed her out to join Daphne and Beulah on the porch.
Etta curled up in the chair by her bedroom window. She had a perfect view of the backyard. Even in the middle of winter it was a peaceful scene. Tall trees flanked walkways leading to well-kept flower beds. A wooden gate led to the open pastures beyond. Nothing was blooming now, but soon the backyard would be a riot of crazy color. Grammy had loved to garden. On top of everything else, she would need to find someone to take care of the grounds. Not a small undertaking, but for the time being it was going at the bottom of her growing list. Maybe Beulah would have some ideas on that subject.
She’d spent most of the day helping box up the mountains of pots and pans, silverware and utensils that filled the kitchen. Daphne pitched in, carefully wrapping glasses in newspaper, while Beulah supervised the whole operation. And what a job. Grammy Hazel must have acquired every single gadget ever invented with a culinary use, or at least it seemed that way, as they emptied one cabinet, cupboard, and drawer after another. And she owned enough dishes to feed an army, which would come in handy at the B&B. All the food from the pantry had to be pulled out, not to mention the perishable items in the refrigerator that were toted over to Donny Joe’s refrigerator. As promised, Donny Joe had lined up a bunch of ladies from town to pitch in with the packing, and it had gone like clockwork. Bertie Harcourt showed up with boxes. Bitsy Jones had packing material and box tape. Maude Ferguson and Linda Parker took charge of getting the food over to Donny Joe’s house, and everyone showed up with a willing hand and an eagerness to help get the job done. Donny Joe pitched in and with his help all the boxes were now labeled and stored out of the way in the front parlor where they’d stay until the new kitchen was unveiled at the end of the week. The women all exchanged hugs as they left and told her to call if she needed help with any little thing. It was silly, but their kindness made her feel all weepy. The idea that she’d almost left Beulah to face this mess alone made her feel guilty all over again.
Donny Joe said his good-byes, saying he couldn’t disappoint the women at Lu Lu’s on a Saturday night. He’d winked and said Etta should join him if she felt like taking him on in a game of darts. What a cocky SOB. It would serve him right if she took him up on his challenge sometime. Put him in his place. But on the other hand, he’d been a lifesaver today, so she’d thanked him for the invitation and said she’d take a rain check. The pleasure of kicking his butt would have to wait for another day.
Right now she needed to call Diego. She’d put it off as long as possible. She’d gotten a text message from Mimi. “Diego acting odd since the Mann dinner. Get home ASAP.” Mimi liked drama, so she didn’t take it too seriously.
And getting home ASAP wasn’t possible. Maybe Diego would surprise her and show some understanding for a change. She’d met Diego in cooking school, and they’d had an instant connection. Back then they’d had the same dreams and hopes for the future. And the sex had been good, too. Way back when. And the best part? When he met Belle for the first time he seemed to hardly notice her. He didn’t turn into a slobbering fool falling all over himself to impress her, and for that alone he’d won Etta’s respect for all time. The relationship had changed over time, especially after their breakup nine months ago, but at the root of everything they shared a mutual love of Finale’s. They’d have to find a way to work this out.
She grabbed her phone, scrolled down to his name in her contacts, and hit the call button before she could find another excuse to avoid it. It was late enough for the Saturday night rush to be over, but early enough for him to still be at the restaurant. Knowing Diego he was relaxing with the staff, drinking a glass of wine and winding down from the hectic weekend pace. The phone rang five times before he answered without a hello or a how-do-you-do.
“Etta. I expected you home today. What happened?” Despite his abrupt greeting, he sounded loose and happy, and not at all put out with her like she expected.
“Hi, Diego, listen, I’m sorry, but I’ve run into another complication.”
A woman’s voice in the background said, “Come on, Diego. We need to go.”
“Hold on a second, Sandra. I need to take this call.”
“Sandra? As in Sandra Mann?” And he wasn’t calling her Miss Mann, either. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. Sandra Mann was a Chicago socialite who could turn a club or a restaurant into an instant hit if she decided it was her flavor of the month. Diego had been angling to be just that for months now. The day the call for the Mann party reservation came in to the restaurant, the whole staff had gone into a tizzy.
“That’s right. She’s got some terrific ideas for the restaurant. So tell me. What’s your problem now, Etta?”
Her problem? For one thing Sandra Mann was having “terrific ideas” about her restaurant when she wasn’t there to nip most of them in the bud. That was all she needed right now. Sandra Mann had been married to a very rich older gentleman, and she’d accumulated quite a fortune along the way. Now she was a widow who enjoyed using her money to indulge her “hobbies” whether they involved backing a stage production, a hot new club, or a restaurant. Diego would trade the heart and soul of the place for the backing of a big-time money donor. His ambition sometimes outpaced his need to stay true to their vision.
Etta closed her eyes and tried not to imagine the worst. “I can’t come home just yet. I have to take care of my niece for a few days.”
“Your niece? What’s going on? Where’s your sister?”
Etta heard Sandra Mann coaxing him to hurry. “Diego, honey, come on.”
Honey? Oh dear. She let out a deep breath and plunged on. “She’s gone to Paris. And did I mention my grandmother’s house is being converted to a Bed and Breakfast?”
“A Bed and Breakfast? What does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s scheduled to have a grand opening on Valentine’s Day and—”
“So, you’ll be gone until Valentine’s Day? Is that what you’re saying? I’ve tried to be understanding, but this is crazy, Etta.”
“I didn’t say I’d be gone that long, I’m just trying to give you an idea of what I have to deal with down here. Maybe—” Before she could explain further, Diego cut her off again.
“Listen, Etta, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”
Etta could hear Sandra in the background, so she said in defeat, “Okay. I can tell this isn’t a good time to talk. Why don’t you call me tomorrow?”
“Sure, okay. I’ll call tomorrow. It sounds like we both have lots of things to discuss.”
Oh, Lord. He seemed keyed up, the way he got right before he took a dive into the next big thing, and this time she wasn’t there to pull him away from the ledge. “We do. Good night, Diego.”
“I’m coming, Sandra. ’Night, Etta.”
She stared at the phone after he disconnected.
He’d hardly given her a chance to get a word in edgewise. He just jumped to conclusions and got off the phone as quickly as possible since Sandra was obviously waiting for him. Etta had been prepared for Diego to be upset with her, and she would have understood it. In fact, she completely shared his frustration right now. He was trying to run a business, their business, and not having her there to put out fires and keep the kitchen running smoothly was unfair to everyone. But life wasn’t fair sometimes. Grammy dying of a heart attack certainly wasn’t fair. But in the end Finale’s was all he really cared about, and if you pressed him, he’d tell you it was all she should care about, too. But she couldn’t ignore her family obligations, either. Belle needed to come home. That was all there was to it.
On impulse she texted
Mimi. “OK. What’s going on??” but changed her mind before she hit send. It wasn’t really fair to put Mimi in the middle of things. At least not yet. She’d hold off until she talked to Diego again.
The house was too quiet. Beulah and Daphne had been in bed for hours, but after talking to Diego she was feeling too wired to go to bed. Normally, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d go bang around in the kitchen for a few hours until she worked out whatever was bothering her. Cooking was her meditation, her stress reliever, the emotional outlet she used to channel all her frustrations and fears. Measuring ingredients and combining them in controlled portions until they transformed into some magical dish was Etta’s therapy of choice. But with the kitchen cleared for the renovation that was out of the question tonight.
She remembered all the time she’d spent with Grammy Hazel in this very house learning to cook. Her grandmother had patiently shared her old family recipes, letting her experiment, encouraging her to try new recipes, no matter how complicated. She knew without question it was those hours spent in her grandmother’s kitchen that convinced her to apply to cooking school.
Every single time Etta visited they would bake an applesauce cake. The first cake they made together when she was a little girl. Over hot tea and big slabs of cake they would talk for hours, solving all the problems of the day.
It had become a tradition. A familiar ritual that Etta relied on for comfort and strength. She fought back a sob and her eyes filled with tears knowing she would never share that with Grammy again.
On impulse, she grabbed her grandmother’s journal and climbed the stairs to the second floor. She hadn’t been upstairs since she’d arrived. For as long as she could remember, the family had lived strictly on the first floor. It was a big house. While she’d been growing up, the upstairs had always seemed dark and mysterious, closed up rooms that no one had any reason to visit. But now according to the big plan, they were going to be guest rooms. Transformed into bright, inviting places where people would come from all over to forget their regular lives. She couldn’t imagine what to expect.
