The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  “You could replace all those bad memories with good ones, if you gave it a chance.” He shrugged and grinned. “Gave me a chance, for example.” His eyes danced, like he was teasing, but she knew it was a serious question.

  She could feel hot splotchy red spots on her neck, and covered them with her hand. “Why do you love it here so much?”

  His eyes were soft. “I love who I feel like when I’m here. The first time I drove through, and this was fifteen years ago, I thought, someday I’ll come back here and live. It felt like home.”

  “I’d hate to see where else you’ve lived if this was your first choice.”

  He smiled and picked up her cell phone. “You’re cute when you’re grouchy. May I put my number in here in case you ever need me to come pick you up?”

  “In the fire truck?”

  He laughed and punched some keys on her phone. “When I was in fifth grade I loved a redhead named Minnie Stewart. She was sassy and had freckles too.” He crossed his arms and leaned on the edge of the table. “But then her brother called me a Spic and that ended our ill-fated love affair.”

  “A name calling is all it took to change your mind?”

  He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “Depends on the girl.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Actually, I beat the crap out of him and she dumped me.”

  “Is that how you got the scar?”

  He covered the scar with his hand. “No, I got this from my brother when I tried to flush his cocaine down the toilet.”

  “Your brother cut you?”

  “Don’t get between an addict and their drug of choice.” He stepped towards the door. “It’s not safe for you to be here alone after dark. I’ll be back in an hour to walk you to your car.” Before she could protest, he was gone, the door closing behind him so quickly that she wondered if she imagined he was ever there.

  * * *

  There was a warm breeze an hour later when Tommy walked her to her car, holding the door while she scooted behind the wheel. She turned the key but nothing happened. The battery must be dead. She looked at Tommy before fingering the car light knob. “Crap, I left the lights on.”

  Tommy grinned and put his hand on the back of her seat. “See, this is why you need me around.”

  She glanced at him and then back at the blank dashboard. “Do you have jumper cables?”

  “I have some at home, in my garage.”

  “Well, you might want to keep those in your car if you’ve taken it upon yourself to be my rescuer.”

  “How is it that you’re so damned cute even when you’re being a pain in the ass?”

  She laughed in spite of herself and threw up her hands. “I don’t suppose you’d give me a lift home?”

  He gave her his hand, helping her out of the van. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  * * *

  She and Tommy walked up the new steps of her porch. The handyman, in the course of a week, had torn out the charred wood and replaced it with oak slabs. The porch was not yet stained, still smelling of fresh, newly shaved and cut wood. Joshua’s handiwork was impressive. From her kitchen window, she had watched him as he stood the wood upright alongside the house and then ran his fingers along the surface of each board like it was a woman’s leg, seeming to look for imperfections. She asked him about it later and he said he liked the pieces to fit closely together without a lot of sanding and cutting. When it was finished the boards fit so snugly together that it looked like one slab, except for the fine lines that proved they were once separate boards.

  Tommy was next to her at the door. She could smell his lime aftershave and for a second wished she could just back up a half a foot and melt into him. But instead she unlocked the door and reached inside for the light switch. “This is what I’m talking about,” said Tommy. “You need a porch light out here.”

  “Have you always been this bossy?” She stepped into the light of the foyer.

  He ran his hand through his hair, peering behind her into her house. “First off, yes. Second, it’s clear that you don’t understand the extent of Zac’s business, nor do you take proper care to protect yourself. Leaving your car lights on, no porch light. Need I say more? These tweakers are unpredictable. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to follow you home in some paranoid rampage.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m compelled to look after you. I can’t control myself.”

  “I’m fine, plus, Joshua, my handyman, is installing the light tomorrow. Have you forgotten I managed to burn down the porch?”

  “How could I forget that?” Something unsaid hung there for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders and turned to go. “You call me tomorrow and I’ll take you to your car, get it jumped for you.”

  It was late, past eight and she was hungry. Not knowing what possessed her, she put her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. “You want to come in, have something to eat?”

  He looked surprised, raised his eyebrows. “You’re inviting me to stay?”

  “It was nice of you to pick me up. Least I could do is feed you. Unless you’ve eaten already?”

  “I have, but I’m always hungry.”

  “I’m not much of a cook, but Ellen leaves me mystery dishes in the fridge.”

  He followed her into the house and she felt him behind her all the way to the kitchen as if they were tethered by an electrical current. She switched on the light in the small kitchen. “The kitchen is next on Joshua’s list, then the floors, then painting,” she said. “Have a seat. I’ll see what I have in here.” She opened the refrigerator and sure enough Ellen had left a plastic container labeled “Chicken Stew.” Lee put the old saucepan on the largest burner. Tommy sat at the table, watching her. “You want something to drink?” she asked him. “Joshua leaves beers in the fridge if you want one. I don’t know exactly why he has to have them at my house but his work is beautiful and his rates so inexpensive I figured it was a small thing to ask.” She stopped, feeling like she was rambling, and sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her, propping his cheek in the palm of his hand.

  “I don’t know. You make me nervous, for some reason.”

  “You don’t know why?”

  “Do you?” she asked, fiddling with the metal hanger on the end of the pot’s rubber handle.

  “What do you think?”

  She laughed and turned down the heat on the stew. “I’m the one asking the questions here.”

  He grinned and held up his hands as if to shield himself. “I’ve got this John Hiatt song called ‘Stood Up’ running through my head. Ever heard it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He sang, “I guess she never understood what she could do, With all her flaming red hair, But I could not stand the heat in her kitchen, So, Jack, I got out of there.”

  She felt herself go hot, embarrassed, and turned back to the stove.

  He went to her. “I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.” His voice was low, near her ear.

  The stew made a popping sound and Lee stirred it, the glaze over the top having softened. The room filled with the smell of rosemary, onions, and roasted chicken. He was still behind her and she could almost feel what it would be like to have his arms encircle her waist, to feel his hands on her thighs. “Looks great,” he said. She felt his breath at the top of her head. She scooted away from him and opened the refrigerator door. She found a beer in the door called “Rogue” in a brown bottle with nice artwork on the label. “You like this?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” He kept his eyes on her as he tilted the beer into his mouth.

  Lee’s mouth filled with saliva and she swallowed, chastising herself for thinking about the way his lips gripped the opening of the beer bottle. She touched a finger to her temple, thinking she needed to get serious control of herself before she did something stupid.

  She found two bowls and filled them with stew. They sat at the table an
d began to eat. The stew had rounds of tender carrots, pearl onions, red baby potatoes, and shredded chicken that tasted like it had been roasted over a wood-burning flame, accompanied by a hint of rosemary and fresh thyme. “This food Ellen brings, it reminds me of this restaurant in Seattle called the Five Spot—kind of down-home cooking with a flair. I’ve started to imagine Ellen’s house actually is the kitchen at the Five Spot. Something about her is bigger than life. She’s so full of energy and ideas, especially when you consider she’s in her seventies.”

  “She’s a great lady,” he said.

  “I’m going to get fat if she keeps feeding me like this.”

  He grunted and scooped another bite into his fork. “Doubtful.”

  “She’s appalled I don’t cook.”

  He smiled and ate another bite of stew. “You been to the doc again?”

  “Next week.”

  “You feeling alright?”

  “Now that the all day sickness is gone, yes.”

  “You taking your vitamins?”

  She pointed to the bottle of prenatal vitamins on the windowsill. “A horse pill a day.”

  “How about food?”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the stew in her bowl. “Three hundred extra calories a day. What’s with the interrogation?”

  He shrugged. “You’re really thin and pale. Not sure you take good care of yourself.”

  She blinked and felt herself blush. “I’ve gained exactly five pounds since I’ve been here. I weigh myself every day. I’ve always done that.”

  He leaned back in his chair, watching her. “Is it exhausting trying to control everything in your life to such a degree?”

  She surprised herself by laughing. “It is exhausting, but it’s the way I am.”

  “I suppose it’s because your mother was so unpredictable.”

  Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to tell him that she made it a rule not to talk about the crazy old drunk but instead her eyes filled, and she twisted her fork over in her hand. “Something like that.”

  “You never knew what she’d do, what state she’d be in, every day you walked in the door from school.”

  She stared at him. “How did you know that?”

  He looked at her, his eyes serious. “I don’t know.”

  She spoke quietly. “How do you know so much about me?”

  “I can feel you.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know.” He put his empty bowl in the sink and then sat back at the table, rubbing the scar on his cheek.

  “Do you want anything else?” She avoided his eyes but felt his gaze just the same.

  He leaned forward, moving her bowl an inch sideways. She looked up into his brown eyes. “I want to kiss you. Bad.”

  Her stomach tightened and she felt her breath catch. “You should go.”

  “Do you really want that?”

  “Yes.” Her hands were shaking and she stared at his mouth, wanting to feel it on her own. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to think of Dan. She hated herself for being here, for wanting this man to stay and hold her in his arms.

  She felt his fingers brush the side of her face. She opened her eyes, trembling, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “Please,” she said. “I can’t.” She felt the tears start to come and pushed her fingers into her eyes.

  His voice was still soft as he tugged at her hands. She let him take them between his own. “I’ve scared you, pushing too hard. I do that.”

  “It’s my fault.” The tears came then, sliding out of her eyes of their own free will. She pushed back her chair and put her bowl blindly into the sink. Facing away from him, she said, “I’m fine.” She hated the tears in her voice.

  He was behind her now, touching her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Lee, I’m sorry.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks, whispering. “Please, just go.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he said again. And then he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.

  * * *

  Saturday morning, Lee sat with Mike at the back of the restaurant, twitching her foot under the table, waiting to begin the presentation to the staff. Billy and Cindi sat together. He sipped from a large glass of diet soda and Cindi blew on a steaming coffee cup. Deana, legs crossed, flipped the pages of a movie magazine. They all waited for Zac. The ice machine made a thump as a layer of cubes slid from their rack into the bin. At ten after the hour, Mike whispered to Lee, “He’s not gonna show. Let’s get started.”

  Mike stood up and scanned the faces. “Good to see you all here. Thanks for coming in on a Saturday morning. We’re making big changes to the restaurant. Lucky for us, Lee’s decided to come on as partial owner and manager.”

  No one moved.

  Mike cleared his throat. “She’s gonna take it from here, explain the new business and answer any questions.”

  Billy’s mouth hung open. Cindi stared at her with a half smile, her eyes flicking from side to side. Deana, magazine still open, squinted and played with a section of her hair. Lee grabbed the concept board from the table and tacked it onto the wall, her knees wobbling like when she was in high school and had to speak in front of the class. “The first thing I want to say is there will be a job for anyone who still wants one.”

  Deana let out an extended sigh, crossing her legs and rifling through her purse.

  Lee gave a condensed version of the presentation, without the financial information, and handed out a list of possible positions for which they could apply. Listed were: bartender, host/hostess, servers, head chef, assistant chef, dishwasher, and busser. “All these positions will require training, which we will provide you.”

  Billy raised his hand. “Lee, what if you can’t be trained?”

  “Anyone could learn one of these jobs. That’s not a problem.”

  Cindi laughed, tossing her hair, her mouth a thin line. “Oh, we’re not too stupid to learn how to be a busboy.” She tapped her high-heeled boot on the floor, crossing her arms over her tight shirt. “Last time I checked I already knew how to wait tables. Better than some, I might add.”

  “No, no, I know you all know how to work in the environment as it is, but the new restaurant will require formal training in the areas of service. We’ll be training under the same regimen as a five-star hotel or restaurant, with the same standards.”

  Cindi scooted her chair a little closer to Billy. She whispered something under her breath. Billy started to laugh, saw Lee looking at him, and clamped his mouth shut, shifting his gaze to his feet.

  “Like I said, all the jobs are open.” Lee glanced at the paper. “Except the Head Chef.”

  Deana rolled her eyes, ambled near the front door, and leaned on the wall. “Five-star service. What the hell does that mean?”

  Billy wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Who would teach us all this stuff?”

  “I haven’t worked all the details out yet, but we’ll bring in a trainer,” said Lee. “An expert in fine dining,” she added, voice faltering.

  There was a bang from the kitchen like someone dropped a large pan. A few seconds later Zac came through the swinging doors. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, his eyes on Lee.

  Deana leaned against the front door, smiling at Zac like they were conspirators of some private joke. She turned to Lee, arranging her overgrown bangs over one eye with a coy shift of her head. “How come you’re in charge now? You never even worked in a restaurant before.”

  Mike spoke in a cold tone Lee had never heard him use before. “Lee’s come up with a hell of a concept and we’ve agreed to a partnership. Take it or leave it.”

  Deana popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “This place is fine the way it is.”

  “This place hasn’t made a blessed dime since it opened,” said Mike. “If you all want a job to come to five days a week, we gotta turn this place on its head.”

  Cindi stood, clutching her purse against her chest. “So Lee’s
an owner now?”

  “Yes,” said Mike.

  Billy wiped the condensation from his soda glass with his thumb. “Lee, are you our boss now?” He glanced in a guilty way at Zac and then sipped his soda, looking at the floor.

  Lee looked at Mike for help, who glanced at Zac, and then nodded to Billy. “Lee’s the manager. Zac will be taking on a different job.”

  The corners of Billy’s mouth turned up in a brief smile.

  “How do we know you aren’t just gonna push us out?” said Cindi. She put her hand on Billy’s arm.

  Lee started to answer, but was interrupted by Billy. “Maybe this’ll be good for us. You know, like more money and stuff.”

  Deana guffawed, tossing her hair. “Billy, don’t you get it? The only people gonna get rich around here is Lee.” She paused and pointed at Mike. “And him.”

  Cindi nodded and looked out the window. “This won’t be a place for people like us.”

  Lee moved toward their table and tripped in her high heels. She steadied herself on a chair. “Look, I need this to work as much as you guys do.”

  Cindi put her purse over her shoulder. “Different table cloths don’t mean it’s any different than yesterday. We’re still broke.”

  “Yeah, but we’ll be trained.” Deana pantomimed a tray above her head and curtsied. “No one’s gonna come to a fancy ass place just to get a drink.” She threw her purse over her shoulder. “I don’t need one of your shit jobs anyway. I’m outta here.” She flounced out, the door swinging back and forth several times before shutting with a soft swoosh.

  No one spoke. Zac left through the kitchen door. Mike glanced at Lee and followed Zac. Billy and Cindi looked at their feet.

  Lee turned from them and took the concept board off the wall, surprised at feeling hurt. She’d imagined everyone would meet the new idea with excitement and enthusiasm. She flashed to a time in fourth grade when a group of girls gathered around her in the playground and told her they all took a vote and agreed they hated her and would no longer count her as a friend. This was the same feeling of shock, betrayal, and being misplaced in the world. Betrayal, she thought, is that what Cindi thinks this is?