Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Molly Cannon

  “Hey, Etta, wait.” His voice caught her and slowed her down for half a second. “Have you met Randi Kay?”

  She turned and sketched a brisk wave. “Nice to meet you, Randi Kay. Sorry to rush off, but I better go check on Daphne and Beulah. They must think I’ve fallen off the face of the earth.” She laughed to make herself sound jolly and turned and hurried away.

  Chapter Eight

  Etta walked over to the kitchen counter and poked at the white paper-wrapped package laying there. “This must be Randi Kay’s fish.”

  “Oh, did you meet her?” Beulah was making a cup of tea.

  “I met her.” Etta poked the fish again for good measure.

  Beulah poured hot water over her tea bag and dunked it up and down several times. “She is just the sweetest child. So devoted to that husband of hers. They’re practically still newlyweds.”

  Etta bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to shatter Beulah’s illusions about Randi Kay. It wasn’t her place to spread rumors about the woman who’d been fawning over Donny Joe a few minutes ago. “I was talking to Donny Joe about the B&B this morning, Beulah, and I realized you haven’t had much to say about the actual plans.”

  Beulah sat down at the kitchen table with her tea. “It’s not my house, so it isn’t my place to say much.”

  “It’s been your home, though, for the last twenty years. Of course you have a say,” Etta insisted.

  “Well, in that case, I wish your grandmother had thought of this idea twenty years ago. Back when we were young enough to do everything ourselves. As it’s turned out, Hazel is gone, and I’m too old to do it all. So instead it seems to me the whole blamed thing has turned into a burden for you and for Donny Joe, too. If you have to sell the house I’ll understand. But if we get the place open for business, I’d love to do what I can to help. I still have a little get up and go left in me, and having guests come and go will keep life from being too lonely now that Hazel’s gone.”

  That was another thing Etta hadn’t given much thought to. Just how alone Beulah would be once they were all gone back to their normal lives. “You can give most women half your age a run for their money and you know it.”

  “At my age I still want to feel useful. I’m not ready to sit on the porch and rock all day.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Cousin Beulah. If we open the B&B nobody will have time to sit around rocking. At least, Donny Joe seems all gung-ho again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I don’t think he’s planning on selling the house without a fight first.”

  “Who’s fighting?” Daphne walked into the kitchen. “You and Donny Joe?”

  “No, young lady. In fact, we actually had a very civilized conversation this morning.”

  “Good, ’cause you guys argue over everything.”

  Beulah nodded in agreement. “That’s true. You do.”

  “We do not. Daphne, you’re exaggerating.”

  “Uh uh. Just yesterday you argued over how many pieces of newspaper needed to go between each plate when we boxed them up.”

  “Three sheets is a nice cushion. Less than that and you might as well not bother.”

  Daphne laughed. “See what I mean, Aunt Etta?”

  “My way made more sense. I was trying to be organized and efficient, while he was just being mule-headed and stubborn. And he didn’t even use a box for those platters. He just stacked them up willy-nilly and carried them out to the dining room table.”

  “The platters will be fine, dear.” Beulah sipped her tea.

  The back door opened and Donny Joe came striding into the kitchen. “You still worried about those platters, Etta? I swear you worry a thing to death.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “If you say so.” Daphne, Donny Joe, and Beulah all smiled, clearly not believing her.

  He saw the package of fish on the counter. “I hope I can find a place for this in the freezer.”

  “Or I could cook it for supper tonight.” Etta said.

  He opened the freezer door and tried unsuccessfully to wedge it inside. “You don’t have to do that. I can order pizza.”

  “I vote for pizza.” Daphne made a happy face that turned disgusted when she added, “I don’t like fish unless it’s fried.”

  “That’s because you’ve never tasted my fish,” Etta boasted with confidence.

  “Are you sure?” Donny Joe asked. He looked at the package of fish helplessly. “You’re a guest. It doesn’t seem right to make you fix dinner.”

  “You’re not making me. I volunteered. It’s the least I can do since you’re giving us a place to stay. Please, let me cook.”

  Beulah took over rummaging around in his freezer. “You couldn’t get that fish in here with a crow bar. It’s full to the gills. Let her cook, Donny Joe.”

  He slapped the fish back down on the counter. “Well, I guess it’s settled then. We’ll do pizza another night, okay, Daphne?”

  “Okay,” she said halfheartedly.

  “Now I’ve got some chores to take care of. I’ll be out back if y’all need anything.” He headed to the back door.

  “Can I help?” Daphne asked shyly.

  Thinking he wouldn’t want her tagging along Etta was about to intervene when Donny Joe rubbed his chin and said. “I don’t know. I have a few strict rules all of my helpers have to agree to follow.”

  “Like what?” Daphne asked.

  He held up his hand and ticked them off one by one. “No smoking, no cussing, and absolutely no beer drinking before five o’clock.”

  Etta noticed Daphne always lit up like the noon day sun whenever Donny Joe teased her. Daphne glanced at Etta and Beulah to see their reaction and then giggled. “Donny Joe, you know I don’t do any of that stuff.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. Come on then.” He opened the back door, and she scrambled to follow. “I can always use the help.”

  “Hold on, young lady. You need a jacket.” Etta grabbed her coat from the bench by the back door and helped her put it on. “You mind Donny Joe, okay?”

  “I will, Aunt Etta,” she promised.

  “Do you want to meet my cat?” Donny Joe asked as they went out the back door.

  “You have a cat? Wow. I didn’t know you had a cat.”

  “I sure do. His name is Gabe.”

  Etta watched them walk off; the tall man with his head bent to hear her, and the small girl chattering away. Whatever else she thought of Donny Joe, when it came to Daphne he’d been a lifesaver.

  Beulah and Daphne retired early to the guest room with the twin beds. Etta had checked on them fifteen minutes ago, and they were both sawing logs. Daphne looked so sweet. Her blonde hair was damp from her bath and Sarge, her purple stuffed dragon, was clutched to her chest. Her thumb stuck securely in her mouth. Poor kid. They would do their best to make sure she didn’t feel neglected.

  Donny Joe had been really good with her. He’d let her follow him around all day while he worked on some dirty project out in the garage. Another old golf cart was parked in one of the bays, and he said the plan was to get it going, too, so they could use it to carry guests down winding paths from the house to the recreation areas along the river. Etta could almost see his vision of the place taking shape when he talked about it. Fishing and swimming and nice places to picnic. All with easy access from the B&B. One would think it was his dream as much as Grammy Hazel’s, the way he carried on. But Daphne had been happily recruited as his second in command. In charge of flashlight holding, advice-dispensing, and clean-up rag supplying. All very important tasks, Donny explained gravely.

  Supper had been a success. The fish dinner was declared the most delicious meal in the history of the universe by one and all. Donny Joe and Beulah volunteered to do the dishes. Etta corralled Daphne and told her a bath was next on the agenda. The little girl had gabbed nonstop about how Donny Joe told her they were going to build gazebos and covered decks on the back of the house. She’d never seen a gazebo,
she said, but Donny Joe told her it was like a round porch out in the middle of the yard for no good reason at all. Donny Joe said sometimes you have to build something just for the heck of it. He said there was a big one in the middle of town she could see sometime. Etta nodded and used the soap to attack the grease on her neck.

  Daphne never stopped talking. She’d met Donny Joe’s cat Gabe. He was named for some old actor. Clark Gable. Did she know Donny Joe had a cat? He was orange and had a crooked ear, and lived in the barn. Donny Joe said he was old and didn’t like most people, but she petted him and he purred. He looked kind of messy, but he had the softest fur. Tomorrow she was gonna find a brush and go brush him.

  Etta grabbed the shampoo and lathered her hair. Daphne closed her eyes while telling her Donny Joe was going to show her how to throw a Frisbee sometime this week but it couldn’t be Wednesday, because Wednesday was the day he always went to the Rise-N-Shine Diner for chili dogs and lemon pie. “He said maybe I could go if you say okay.”

  Etta smiled. “I think that would be okay.”

  “But he said I’d have to promise to eat a vegetable along with the hot dog or he’d get in trouble. He said you and Aunt Beulah could come too if you wanted.”

  “Well, that was real nice of him.”

  “Do you like hot dogs, Aunt Etta? Does a pickle count as a vegetable? It’s green.” The last question was asked through a big yawn. By the time she had her pajamas on she was asleep on her feet.

  Beulah was already in bed reading when Etta tucked Daphne into the other twin bed. She put down the book she was reading and turned off the lamp on her nightstand. “That is one tired child.”

  Etta walked over and hugged her around the neck. “I think we’re all tired. Tomorrow you should take it nice and easy.”

  “I will if you will, dearie.”

  “You’ve got a deal. Can I get you anything, Beulah?”

  “No, I’m good. Good night, Etta.”

  “ ’Night, Beulah.”

  Etta walked out, closing the bedroom door behind her. The house was quiet. Donny Joe had left after supper, saying he was going out and would probably be home late. He’d promised not to make much noise when he came in. Etta naturally assumed a woman was involved. Wandering into the kitchen for a drink of water, she spied a copy of the kitchen plans for the B&B sitting on the corner of the bar. She figured it couldn’t hurt to see what changes were in the works, so she picked them up and took them with her to the bedroom. Just to see what was in the works. Just to have a little look-see.

  Donny Joe drove down the road, singing along to the radio at the top of his lungs while beating out the rhythm of “Born to Be Wild” on the steering wheel. This morning he’d had a second meeting with Craig Knowles of Knowles Hotel Management, and it had sounded somewhat promising. Knowles’s company was beginning construction on a new chain of mid-priced hotels in the DFW Metroplex, and a month ago Backyard Oasis had been invited to put in a bid for the design and construction of the swimming pools. They would make their final decision any day now, and it would be a real boon if he could get the contract. Construction for new residential pools was down, and this job would make sure he had plenty of work to keep his small construction crew busy for the foreseeable future. He didn’t want to have to lay anyone off, not in this slow economy. His guys all had families to feed, and it was his responsibility to make sure no one went hungry as long as he was the boss.

  Even though he’d had a late night, he’d woken up before his alarm clock buzzed that morning and drank a cup of coffee out on his back porch. The house was full of guests sleeping in, and it made the house feel cozy and lived in for a change. Gabe walked up yowling and circling his legs. He hardly ever left the barn, but this morning he seemed restless, too. Maybe he wasn’t sure of what to make of the visitors, either.

  Donny Joe didn’t make a habit of inviting women to spend the night at his house. It was just Donny Joe and Gabe, two old tomcats set in their ways. He made a point of avoiding the awkward trap of waking up beside someone the morning after. Over the years he’d earned a reputation for showing a certain kind of woman a good time. Women liked him between the sheets, but had little use for him outside the dance floor and the bedroom. He wasn’t the kind of man they turned to when they wanted to settle down. No, he’d served a purpose and for years now he’d been happy to oblige. He counted himself lucky. No strings and no obligations.

  Best of all, his home was the place he could give all that well-rehearsed charm a rest. This morning had been different. This morning his empty house was full of sleeping females. And he hadn’t bristled at the idea.

  Well, maybe a little. Just thinking about Etta Green rankled and his easygoing mood slipped a notch or two. But so far, for the most part things had gone smoothly. Daphne had followed him around yesterday afternoon making suggestions and asking questions until his head was spinning. She was a smart little thing, though. And she’d won Gabe over in a heartbeat. If he hadn’t seen that old tomcat voluntarily jump up into her lap he wouldn’t have believed it.

  But things were quiet now. Beulah and Daphne had decided to share the guest room, and good ole Etta slept in the maid’s room off the kitchen. As he looked around this morning one of Daphne’s stuffed dragons sat on the bar in the kitchen. A stack of Beulah’s quilt squares set on one end of the couch in the living room. And the washed pots and pans used by Etta for cooking dinner the night before were piled upside down on the drain board. The house had a lived-in look that was normally missing.

  He’d offered to order pizza last night. After all, everyone was still worn out from the upheaval of the funeral, cleaning out the kitchen the day before and then moving over to his house yesterday morning. Not to mention the crushing emotional exhaustion from grief over Miz Hazel’s passing. But Etta insisted. She said it would relax her to cook. And in no time at all she had taken the fresh fish Randi Kay had brought by that morning and whipped up some kind of fancy baked fish dish that was better than any pizza he could have had delivered. Whatever else he might have to say about her, the woman could cook.

  So he’d snuck quietly out of the house this morning, not to avoid an errant lover, but to let his guests have a much deserved morning of sleep. Taking care of them, even in such a small way, filled him with an odd feeling of contentment.

  “Odd” being the operative word. He didn’t fool himself that it was anything more than a passing fancy. His life was fine and dandy just the way it was. In fact, he would be glad when things returned to normal. Once Etta returned to Chicago, and that had to be soon, he’d handle the remaining remodeling details on the B&B without a problem. The contracts were all in place, and Hazel had lined up reputable people for each phase. All he had to do was stay out of the way and let them do their jobs. As for what would happen once the work was finished, that was a problem that Etta and Belle would have to figure out. Without a couple of weddings and a conference or two the place wouldn’t start to see profits for a while. If things fell through, Beulah or no Beulah, as much as he hated the idea, selling the house might turn out to be the only sensible option.

  His phone rang, and he saw that it was Gil Johnson, the foreman in charge of the kitchen demolition and remodel on Miz Hazel’s house. His crew had just started to arrive on the job when he’d left that morning. Donny Joe had tooted his horn and waved, leaving them to their work.

  “Hey, Gil, how are things coming along?”

  “We have a problem, Donny Joe.”

  Donny Joe sighed. “What kind of problem?”

  “Well, Miz Hazel’s granddaughter is threatening to chain herself to the old plumbing pipes inside the house if we don’t stop the project. I thought everything was a go, Donny Joe.”

  “What the hell? It is a go, Gil. Look, I’m about ten minutes away. Tell everybody to take a break, and I’ll deal with her as soon as I get there.”

  “Okay, but hurry. I’m trying to stay on a schedule here.”

  Donny stepped on the accelera
tor, cursing Etta Green with every passing mile. He should have known that the truce they’d reached wouldn’t last. He pulled into his driveway and barely had time to get out of his truck before he spied her. Etta blew across the yard like a small boat with a strong wind in her sails, straight toward him clutching papers in her hand.

  “Donny Joe, this is not going to work.”

  “Hold on, Etta. At least let me get out of the truck before you lay into me.” He turned and spoke to the older man walking right behind her. “Gil, I take it you’ve met Hazel’s granddaughter. And Etta, this is Gil Johnson. He’s the man your grandmother hired to give us a dream kitchen.”

  “Mr. Johnson and I have met.” Etta crossed her arms across her chest.

  Donny Joe sighed. “So let’s hear it. What exactly seems to be the problem?”

  She held out the papers in his direction. “The problem is the layout of the kitchen.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake.” He took the papers, giving them a cursory once over as he spoke. “You do realize Gil is a home kitchen specialist, and these plans were approved by your grandmother.”

  “And if this was going to be a home kitchen, the plans would be great, but this is going to be a kitchen for an inn that serves dinners, holds conferences, and throws weddings.”

  Donny Joe put his hands on his hips. “So, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying it won’t work. We need to make changes before they start installing anything.”

  Donny figured she must have lost her mind. “Now? You want to make changes now?”

  “Better now than after they finish.” She crossed her arms again and planted her feet, looking like she couldn’t be moved without the help of a forklift.

  He leaned over until they were nose to nose. “Lady, why the hell couldn’t you have just gone back to Chicago like you were supposed to?”