Father Knows Best

by Lynda Sandoval

  Bending down, I read a few lines.

  Well, well. Jennifer “isn’t that a witch store?” Hamilton was reading up on the ancient Navajo Blessingway ceremony to celebrate a woman’s transition into motherhood, which isn’t exactly mainstream fare. Interesting. The Navajos say, “Whatever happens here on earth must first be dreamed,” and that’s what a Blessingway’s all about. It made me wonder if she was considering keeping the baby. And that made me think about Lila, and what she would think if she walked into the store right this very second.

  My chest tightened.

  Gosh, this being a good person vs. being a loyal friend stuff is super difficult. Really, it shouldn’t be mutually exclusive, but that all depends on who’s the father of Jennifer’s baby. If it is Dylan, I can’t blame Lila for her feelings. I should just ask Jennifer, but I was afraid to hear the answer.

  Awful.

  I went crossed to the cash wrap area and plunked my elbows onto the countertop, then rested my forehead in my hands. I was going to have to tell Lila about Jennifer. If only I knew how. Just then, Reese emerged from the back room in mid-comment about placing an order for some new soy candles or something.

  I glanced up and laid a finger across my lips, then pointed toward Jennifer. Reese raised her perfectly arched eyebrows, then tilted her head toward the back room. I followed her.

  “Okay, so who’s sleeping beauty out there?” she asked in a soft tone. She yanked the pen out of the knot at the back of her head and her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders. She ran her spread fingers through it, brushing it away from her face.

  “She’s this girl,” I said with a sigh.

  Reese smirked. “I can see that.”

  “Actually, she hates me.”

  Bewilderment. “What?”

  Way to explain things clearly, Meryl. I flipped my hand. “She’s in the popular group, and I’m totally not. You know how high school is.”

  “Ah. Unfortunately yes. Why is she here, then?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh! Poor thing.” A shadow crossed Reese’s expression. “But that still doesn’t explain why she’s here.”

  I twisted my mouth to the side and nodded. “It’s really complicated, Reese, and I’m so confused.”

  She steered me over and sat me down in her desk chair, then leaned one hip on the desk. “Talk to me.”

  I quickly explained about the whole Dylan / Lila angle and the fact that Jennifer’s parents weren’t exactly supportive. “But, the thing is, even though she doesn’t like me, even though my best friend is her archenemy, even though…all of it…she’s so alone and scared, and I can’t stand it. I saw her. She was sitting out in the rain, and I just…” I shrugged.

  After a moment of studying my no doubt ravaged face, Reese gave me a hug. “You’re an awesome soul, Mer. And she is welcome here anytime.”

  I cringed, glancing at the floor.

  “There’s something else?”

  I nodded. “She’s not exactly what you’d call a progressive thinker when it comes to gay stuff. I’m afraid she might say something ignorant.”

  Reese laughed. “That’s probably because she thinks she doesn’t know any gay people, although I guarantee she does. But don’t worry about that. Neither Kelly nor I need your protection from the bigots of the world. You just be you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I smiled. “Thank you.” Another nagging question kept me sitting there, though. I wanted to let it go, but I couldn’t seem to. I’d been worrying about it for way too long, and I needed to get it off my chest. “Um, can I ask you one other thing?”

  She crossed one foot over the other. “Shoot.”

  “We didn’t have many customers today.”

  She brushed it off. “Eh. Rain.”

  “But”—I swallowed thickly, and my heart started to thud—“I guess what I’m asking is, you won’t have to, ah, fire me or lay me off anytime soon, will you?”

  Crossing her arms, Reese shook her head slowly. Her brown eyes softened. “You’ve been stressing about this all day, haven’t you?”

  My face heated. “Sort of all week. Or…maybe longer.”

  “Listen, hon. Kelly and I would take every other measure possible before we ever lost you as an employee, okay? You have nothing to worry about. We’re smart about the business, and one slow day isn’t going to kill it.”

  I released a long breath. “Oh, good. I didn’t mean to imply that you and Kelly aren’t good businesspeople.”

  “I know that, Mer.”

  I held up my palm. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I was just worried because I can’t think of anyplace I’d want to work besides here.”

  She reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “And we can’t think of anyone else we’d want to work here, so that’s one less thing for your overactive imagination to focus on. Deal?”

  I giggled. “Deal.”

  “Meryl?” came a sleepy voice from the shop floor. Jennifer. For some reason, that made my heart rev. Now she and Reese would have to meet. I know Reese told me not to worry about the whole gay issue, but I swear, if Jennifer said something rude—

  Reese gave me a little nudge. “There she is. Come on. Introduce me to your friend.”

  My tummy plunged. I felt radically disloyal to Lila, consumed with guilt, torn in so many different directions, I just wanted to run. “She’s not really my friend.”

  Reese lowered her chin. “There are many definitions of friendship, and the best thing about it?” She paused. “It’s ever expanding, just like love. Plenty to go around.”

  I hesitated.

  “You aren’t taking away from your friendship with Lila by showing kindness to Jennifer. That, I promise. Lila will come to understand.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I felt a little bit better knowing Reese was on my side. At the same time, I felt slightly worse that there were even sides to take.

  Torn. That was the word of the day.

  Good thing Reese and Kelly always seem to make things so simple and straightforward, but I wasn’t so sure. As we walked out to meet Jennifer, I prayed Reese was right this time. Because as much as I sympathized with Jennifer, I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt or alienate Lila. Ever.

  If it came down to a choice, well, there simply wasn’t one.

  Chapter Seven

  You know your life has to be in pretty rotten shape if the fact that your father is doing your boyfriend’s mother slips from the top spot on the Things in My Life That Suck chart because something worse comes along.

  But, there you have it.

  My boyfriend’s ex? Pregnant.

  Suck ranking? Numero uno, baby.

  I still can’t get over it. And since there’s no chance in hell the conception had been of the immaculate variety, knowing Jennifer, odds are decent that my boyfriend had a hand in it. Or a, you know, a something in it.

  Bleh. The images in my head, God!

  I can’t even stand the thought that the two of them might have had sex. Even though I’m not ready to have sex, it feels like she has a part of him that I don’t, which kills me. Every time it pops into my brain, I get dizzy and have to lie down. Even worse? I haven’t managed to cowgirl up and just ask him, nor has he said a thing. Instead, I’ve gone the avoidance route, concocting lame excuses about why I can’t see him, spending my days pounding the pavement in search of a job that didn’t land near the top of the omnipresent Suck Chart with the rest of my life.

  Not that anything could beat the pregnancy debacle.

  Not even Dad and Chloe. Astonishing, really.

  By day three of my job search, I’d realized, with a sobering certainty, that I was totally screwed. None of the shops or restaurants had open positions. Mountain Lion Coffee had more than its share of baristas, and no, they didn’t need someone to sweep up and clean the bathrooms—the baristas did that, too.

  Yes, folks, I’d actually begged to be a ja
nitor.

  But the low point was being wait-listed by freakin’ Burger Wonder. I mean, come on! I wasn’t even number one on the list. I was tenth. If that isn’t an ego killer, I don’t know what is.

  My stomach wound itself into knots of worry and dismay. I wandered through town in a daze, like some amnesiac from rural Canada who’d found herself here but didn’t know why. I honestly didn’t know where to turn, but the bottom line was, I’d promised my dad I’d find a job, and I was frighteningly close to the “no more options” point.

  And then there was the Jennifer thing.

  And the Chloe thing.

  And the missing Caressa thing.

  It was all too much.

  I sank onto an empty bench along Main Street and launched a massive pity party for moi, hosted by moi, and attended only by—you guessed it—moi. Why, why, why had I blown off the whole summer job scramble when all my peers were vying to snap up the best positions first? Because I’d worked soooo hard as a Police Explorer all school year? Because I felt entitled to hang out with my boyfriend and / or contemplate my toenails for three months while my friends worked? What a loser. I was worse than Luke the Puke.

  Dejected, stressed, defeated, I started to cry. Not sob, but just sit there, immobile, while tears streamed down my cheeks. God, what was I going to do? No way could I pay Dad back for the totally cool car at this rate. Would I have to return it? Everything around me blurred, but I didn’t bother to wipe my eyes. What did it matter?

  I heard the jangle of a bell as a door to one of the local (not hiring, of course) businesses opened, but I didn’t even waste the effort to look up. I sniffed, then crossed my arms around my body and slumped into my misery.

  “Lila?”

  Jolted, I smeared at my eyes and blinked up. Chloe. Perfect. How totally humiliating. “Hi,” I said without one iota of enthusiasm.

  “I thought that was you.” A line of worry bisected her forehead. “Is everything okay, hon? Did you and Dylan have an argument?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” I sniffled. “I haven’t actually seen him in a few days.”

  She cocked her head. “Because there’s a problem between you two?”

  “No,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true. “Because I’ve been killing myself looking for a job.”

  “Ah.” She took a seat next to me, and I scooted a cheek to give her more room. She reached over and took one of my hands in both of hers, which I have to admit felt good. Mom-like. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  For some unfathomable reason, I opened my mouth and started unburdening myself in a manic babble. Yes, to Chloe.

  “No one is hiring,” I said, in a boogery, watery tone. “At least, not anymore. I’ve been searching nonstop, but everyone’s already hired help for the summer—of course. I have to pay Dad back for the car and…I just—”

  “Come on.” Chloe stood, but didn’t release my hand.

  I peered up at her. “What?”

  “Come into the travel agency.” She angled her head toward the door and tugged at my arm. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee and we have cookies.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I hadn’t had an appetite since I’d learned about Jennifer, frankly, and this ungainfully unemployed status was only making it worse. At this rate, I’d wind up looking like one of those shivering Chihuahua-esque Hollywood starlets by the time school started.

  “So forget the cookies.” She eyed me knowingly. “But I bet you wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee.”

  True. I’d wanted to buy one at Mountain Lion, but I felt guilty for spending the money, so I’d piously restrained myself. “Okay. Coffee sounds good.”

  As we walked toward the front door of High Country Travel, which Chloe managed, some blurty, reckless part of me wanted to ask her if Dylan and Jennifer had ever had sex. But then again, how would she know? I guarantee, if I were having sex, which I am not, my father wouldn’t have clue number one—I’d make darn sure of that.

  But maybe Chloe had women’s intuition…?

  No. Total party foul to front my boyfriend like that, especially to his mother. Even if he had gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant. Emphasis on if. “I’m sorry to interrupt your workday,” I said instead.

  “You’re not interrupting. We’re always a bit slow at this time of day, for some reason.” She pulled open the door and stood aside to let me enter first.

  As businesses go, it wasn’t huge. Then again, none of the businesses along Main Street were, because the buildings were historic and protected. But they had character. High Country Travel was light, bright, and inviting. Huge destination posters adorned the walls, places like Budapest and Hong Kong, Paris and Nepal. Four desks occupied the main room, each with its own computer, and cabinets ran all along the exposed brick wall in the back, with machines on the countertops, like faxes, copiers, scanners, and such.

  They might be in a slow period, but the place gave off a good, busy vibe. A couple of other women bustled around carrying papers or packages, and the one male travel agent was on the phone waving his hand around as he spoke a foreign language I couldn’t discern. I bet Meryl would know what it was.

  I took a deep breath and let my shoulders fall on the exhale. “It’s nice in here.”

  “Thanks,” Chloe said. She gestured to a chair in front of the largest desk that sat near the front window. “Have a seat. I’ll get you that coffee.”

  I did so. While she was gone, I spied brochures for New York City in a rack up front, under the big windows. I scurried over and took one. Maybe they’d have pictures of Tribeca, or at least a paragraph about it. I was leafing through it when Chloe returned with two steaming mugs.

  I twisted my mouth shyly, holding up the brochure. “I’m totally missing Caressa.”

  “I bet you are. Have you ever been to New York City?”

  “No. But I’d love to go. I wish I could see Caressa’s show, you know?”

  She arched her eyebrows thoughtfully. “That would be an experience to remember. Feel free to keep the brochure.”

  “Thanks.”

  She sat with her elbows propped on her desk blotter, studying me for a sec like she had something else to say.

  I gulped. Did she know about Jennifer?

  “Lila, do you know what a go-fer is?”

  Uh, okay, hadn’t expected that out-there question. A gopher? How stupid did she think I was? I tried not to sound sarcastic or indignant when I answered. “Well, yeah. It’s one of those ugly rodent things.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise, then she laughed out loud, exposing her perfect teeth. Dylan had the same choppers, thanks to the weird but cool phenomenon of heredity. “Not that kind of gopher. I mean the kind of go-fer who works for a business, does odd jobs. Copying, filing, refilling the brochure racks, taking packages to the post office. That sort of thing.”

  “I hadn’t heard of that kind, no,” I said, feeling dumb. And dumber. But why did they refer to this person as a gopher anyway?

  She crossed her legs to the side and sort of studied me over her shoulder. “We could use one here at the agency.”

  “A gopher?” My heart gave a thunk, and I glanced behind me toward the front display window. “Really? I didn’t notice a help wanted sign—”

  “That’s because we haven’t been actively looking,” she said, then held up a hand. “I know, totally uncool to work for your boyfriend’s mom and all that—”

  “No,” I lied in a rush, desperate for any option, even that. “That’s not what I was thinking.” Even though it maybe kinda was. I swallowed and gripped my coffee mug tighter, not wanting to appear even more ignorant by making assumptions that she might be offering me the job, even if all clues pointed to that. “Are you…am I—?”

  “Would you like the job?”

  My tummy took the express elevator to the bottom floor, crashing somewhere around my feet. “You mean I don’t have to interview or anything?” />
  Chloe laughed again. “I think I know you well enough to vouch for you.”

  A zing of guilt rushed through me. Maybe, but she didn’t know me well enough to realize that my goal for the summer was to break up her and my dad. Still, I wasn’t about to turn down this chance. “I’d love the job. Really?”

  “Really.”

  I blew out a huge breath of relief. “I thought I was going to have to settle for Burger Wonder, even though I’m tenth on the waiting list, so it would’ve been a while. Still, God, have you seen those embarrassing uniforms?”

  “No uniforms here,” she said with a smile. “Just nice, casual clothes. Slacks, skirts. And since you’ll be carrying packages and things, jeans are fine for you, too. Just no shorts unless our air-conditioning breaks, which it usually does about once a summer on the only day we really need it.”

  I smiled. “Okay.” I sipped my coffee, noticing my hands had begun to shake. After I’d swallowed, I thought I should act at least a little professional. I asked, “What, um, exactly will the job entail?”

  “Well, I’d need you four hours a day, Monday through Friday. Morning’s fine if that works for you, so it doesn’t cut into your fun time too much. Or whenever.”

  “Morning’s great,” I assured her. That was usually when Dylan worked. Sweet.

  “Like I said, you’ll be doing all the busywork that takes away valuable booking time from the travel agents. Making copies, sending faxes, shipping things, restocking, sorting and distributing mail. The occasional coffee or lunch run. Does that sound tolerable?”

  Tolerable? “It sounds fine.”

  “Wonderful. I can pay you ten dollars an hour—”

  “What?” My eyes bugged and I almost dropped my coffee.

  “I’m sorry, that’s all the budget will allow.”

  “No, I meant that’s great! Burger Wonder pays crap—excuse my language—and they make you wear those hats that look like a thing of French fries.”