Espresso in the Morning

by Dorie Graham

  She found Grey in the kitchen, staring at the answering machine.

  “He didn’t call,” he said.

  “He’ll call.”

  “What if he didn’t get my message, or what if she didn’t make it and he just doesn’t want to tell me?” he asked.

  She pressed her hand to his shoulder. “He’ll call. Why don’t you get ready for bed? It’s late.”

  He shrugged her hand from his shoulder. “I know it’s late. It’s always late.”

  He’d taken just a few steps from the phone when it rang, making Claire jump and her pulse quicken. She fisted her hands to keep from picking up the receiver as Grey hurried to answer it.

  “Hello?” he said.

  Please let the news be good. Grey didn’t need anything more to upset him.

  Grey nodded. “I know, you told me. So, how is she? Did you bring her home?”

  He glanced at Claire, but she couldn’t read his expression. Again, he nodded. “And you hung out and talked to her?”

  She pressed her lips together to suppress the urge to ask what Lucas was saying. She’d find out soon enough.

  “Okay, I see,” Grey said. “Thanks for calling.”

  He hung up, then headed again toward his room. Claire followed, pausing in his doorway. “Grey, what did Lucas say? How’s Lady?”

  Grey lifted his presidential pajama bottoms from the end of his bed and shook them out. He didn’t look at her. “She didn’t make it. She died last night.”

  Concerned, she stepped into his room. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

  He caught her eye and the sheer exhaustion she saw there stopped her in her tracks. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m fine, Mom. Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to bed. I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

  Claire’s throat tightened and her vision blurred. He was exhausted because of her. She nodded and closed the door behind her as she left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE YOUNG WOMAN behind the counter at the new coffee place smiled expectantly at Grey. Grey kept his gaze on the floor, stubbornly refusing to answer her request for his order. Claire frowned. How could her child be deliberately rude?

  “He’ll have a banana-strawberry smoothie,” she answered for him.

  “I don’t want a smoothie,” he said.

  Relaxing her jaw, Claire attempted a smile. “You have to have something, Grey. I’m not dropping you at school with an empty stomach.”

  “Um, we don’t have smoothies,” the girl said. “Only coffee and tea. How about a coffee cooler? It’s a blended drink.”

  “That’s fine,” Claire said. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t want it. Coffee isn’t breakfast,” Grey said.

  “And a bagel with cream cheese,” Claire said.

  The girl nodded as she busied herself getting their order. Grey frowned. “I’m not hungry. I hope you got all that for yourself.”

  Claire pulled him away from the line of other waiting customers. “Listen, I’m trying to be patient here. I know you’re sad about Lady and about Lucas and you can be mad at me all you want. But you can’t be rude to other people just because you’re having a bad day. It isn’t okay, Grey. Do you hear me?”

  “Isn’t that what you did, though? You were in a bad mood because I gave you the stupid espresso machine for your birthday and because you don’t want to have breakfast with me at home, so you were mean to Lucas. Isn’t that what happened?”

  Heat flooded Claire’s cheeks. She glanced at a woman in the nearby line. The woman looked away as though she hadn’t been listening. Grey made her sound like a monster.

  She kept her voice low. “I don’t expect you to understand why Lucas and I aren’t friends anymore, but it isn’t because of the espresso machine, though admittedly I wasn’t thrilled about that.”

  “Then why? Why were you mean to him? I finally have someone cool who wants to hang out with me and you ruined it.”

  “We’re going to talk about this when we get to the car,” Claire said, glancing at the barista to see how close she was to completing their order.

  “Fine. I’ll wait in the car.”

  “Grey, hold on.” Claire tried to stop him, but he slipped from her grasp and headed toward the door.

  “Here you go,” the barista said, setting a small bag and drink tray in front of her.

  “Thank you,” Claire said as she hurriedly paid.

  Grey was already in the car with the doors locked when she got there. She unlocked the driver’s door, and then maneuvered into her seat with the drinks. She set the bag with the bagel in the console beside Grey, along with his coffee cooler.

  “Sometimes things don’t work out between people—” she began.

  “I know. We’ve already been over this,” Grey said. “You suck at relationships.”

  Claire tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “That’s really unfair, not to mention disrespectful. I don’t see how I deserve that.”

  “I want to have a funeral for Lady.”

  “Is Lucas having a funeral?”

  “He will if I ask him.” He turned to her. “Mom, please will you ask him, or take me by there and I’ll ask him?”

  “Honey, it might be too late,” she said. “It’s been a couple of days. I’m sure Lucas has...taken care of that by now.”

  “We can ask.”

  “Okay, we don’t have time now, but I’ll stop by there after I drop you off and I’ll talk to him.”

  Hope filled his eyes. “Promise, Mom? Because she should be treated like a lady, remember? And a lady would have a proper funeral.”

  Claire blinked moisture from her eyes. Her son could be rude, but he was also a very thoughtful young man. “Yes, Grey, you’re right. I promise. I’ll talk to Lucas.”

  * * *

  GUNS N’ ROSES rocked quietly from the overhead speakers as Lucas emerged from the back. The scent of coffee welcomed and soothed him as it always did. He glanced at Ken and nodded toward the speakers. “What’s that?”

  “Guns—”

  “I know who it is. I’m just wondering who changed the station.”

  “Oh, that was Ramsey. We jammed to that yesterday. I meant to switch it back,” Ken said.

  Lucas arched his eyebrows. “You jammed to that?”

  “I like a little hard rock now and then,” Ken said as he headed to the stereo to change the track.

  “It’s fine, Ken. You can leave it. I don’t mind,” Lucas said.

  Ken nodded and turned around as the bell on the front door sounded. “I think you have a visitor, boss.”

  Lucas’s pulse quickened as Claire headed toward him. He hated still having this reaction to her. He’d called numerous times to try to work things out, but she’d never answered or returned his calls. He should be angry, but instead he was just sad that she was shutting him out.

  He’d known all along the risk of getting involved with her. What a fool he’d been. Bracing himself, he nodded his greeting as she stopped in front of him.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She paused, the lines of her face drawn taut. Evidently, she wasn’t any happier about being here than he was to have her here. “Good morning, Lucas.”

  “Is Grey okay?” he asked, racking his brain to figure out why she’d come.

  “Actually, no, he’s upset about—” she waved her hand “—everything, but more specifically he’s really sad about Lady and I realize it may be too late, but I promised I’d come ask.” She looked away, and then met his gaze. “He wants to have a funeral.” Her voice faltered. “He says that’s what a lady deserves.”

  Lucas’s throat tightened. “I buried her in my backyard, near the garden. I thought about inviting the two of you, but I figured it would be too hard. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “Of course. I told him it was probably already too late.” She nodded again. “Thank you, anyway.”

  As she turned to leave, Lucas called her name. She stopped and turned back to him. He
said, “We could still have a funeral, say a few words, lay flowers on her grave, that kind of thing. Whatever you think might help Grey feel better.”

  Once more she nodded. “Thank you, Lucas. That would be really good. Could we do it today after Grey gets out of school? We’ll have the ceremony and let him say goodbye before I take him to my mother’s house.”

  “Sure, Claire, whatever works for you.”

  “Four o’clock?”

  “Sure, four o’clock. I’ll see you both then. I’ll get some flowers. Is there anything else I should do?” he asked.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll take care of everything.” She seemed about to leave, but stopped once more. “Thanks again, Lucas. Under the circumstances I would have understood if you didn’t want to do this.”

  “It isn’t a problem. I’m happy to do anything for Grey—for both of you.”

  She parted her lips, as though she might say more, and then walked out the door.

  * * *

  GREY SCANNED THE long line of cars in the carpool pickup lane, searching for his mom’s car. He’d gotten a message that she was picking him up today, not Aunt Becca. Mom was always late, and today wasn’t any different. He resettled his backpack and stood alongside the other waiting kids, avoiding eye contact, so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.

  “Are you all right, Grey?” Miss Ambers, one of the teachers who supervised the pickups, stepped beside him.

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  She looked at him curiously. Why did everyone look at him that way? “Are you sure?”

  “My dog died,” he said, just to make her stop.

  She frowned in sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  She patted his arm, and then moved on to help a parent and child safely across the driveway. He shrugged off the hint of guilt at his lie. He’d found Lady. He’d gotten his mom and Lucas to help. If things had worked out differently, they’d be sharing Lady with Lucas. They’d all be one happy family. Was it really wrong he’d called her his dog?

  Nearly fifteen minutes later his mother finally showed up, way at the end of the line. It figured she’d be last to get him. They’d spend an uncomfortable trip to Aunt Becca’s with her awful metal music blasting, then she’d dump him at her sister’s, because she couldn’t freaking be at home with him. Yet no one—not Gram, not Aunt Becca, not Lucas—wanted to talk to him about what was wrong with her.

  Fine. They could all act like everything was normal, but he was done with that. He wasn’t going to pretend anymore.

  He walked along the line of cars. The blaring sounds of Mindless Self Indulgence reached him ten cars before he reached his mom’s old beat-up Honda. He hated that he knew enough about metal bands to recognize the song. His stomach knotted as he slipped into the passenger seat. Surprisingly, she turned down her music a notch.

  “Hi, little man, how was school?” Mom asked as she pulled from the curb.

  He stared at her. “I hate it when you call me that.”

  Her smile faded. “I’m sorry, Grey. I won’t call you that anymore.”

  He focused on the road ahead. “Thank you. Did you talk to Lucas about the funeral for Lady?”

  “I did. I stopped in to see him after I dropped you off this morning.” She paused as she checked traffic and changed lanes.

  “And?”

  “And he buried her in his backyard already, but we’re going to still have a funeral.”

  “When?”

  “Now, if that’s okay. I told him we’d meet him at his place as soon as I picked you up.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I stopped to get some flowers. I mean, Lucas is getting flowers, too, but you can never have too many at a funeral.” She gestured toward the back. “I got some dog toys, too—a chew bone, grooming brush and other little stuff. I thought it might be nice to get her some things she should have had. If there’s something in particular you’d like to add, we can make another stop. Whatever you want, Grey. This is for you.”

  “It’s for Lady,” he said.

  “Of course. Look, I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to get to know her.”

  He didn’t respond. It was cool they were going to Lucas’s house. They turned into a neighborhood lined with neat yards and matching mailboxes. Grey tried to imagine Lucas living in one of the brick houses, but he couldn’t quite picture it.

  Mom checked her phone’s GPS, then turned down a side street. They passed a lawn that needed mowing, and another that had sprouted wildflowers instead of grass. One house had a mailbox that looked like it belonged in an old-time railroad station. Grey nodded to himself. This looked more like Lucas’s neighborhood, at least what Grey imagined it to be.

  “Here we are,” Mom said as she pulled into one of the driveways. It wound back a ways and a small kind of arbor with overhanging branches framed the end of it. She parked beside an old pickup truck.

  Grey slipped out of the car. A soft breeze wrestled some of the lingering leaves from the overhead branches. They floated down, taking their time to hit the ground. Mom stood beside him, her gaze scanning the expanse of yard around them. “Lady would have loved it here.”

  Nodding, Grey let his gaze follow hers. Lady would have loved it, all right. And he would have, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CLAIRE’S BREATH CAUGHT as Lucas rounded the side of the building and headed toward them. Grey saw him about the same time. Without warning, her son launched himself at Lucas. Lucas caught him in a big hug, lifting him off the ground and holding him tight.

  Claire swallowed past a lump in her throat. Part of her wanted to launch herself at Lucas, too, but he’d betrayed her trust when he helped Grey buy that espresso machine. Her fragile relationship with her son had gone downhill since then.

  “Hello, Claire,” Lucas said as he set Grey on the ground. “Thank you for coming by and arranging this.”

  “Hello, Lucas,” she said. He looked tired and his hair needed cutting, but the woman in her still jumped at the sight of him. “And it was all Grey’s idea. He was pretty insistent.”

  “Don’t we have some stuff in the car?” Grey asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Lucas, I know you said you’d get flowers, but I saw these and thought it wouldn’t hurt to have more.”

  She lifted the bouquet of roses, lilies and other assorted flowers. She shrugged. “I liked this—the colors are bright and happy and I thought maybe we could all use something to lift us up.”

  “They’re pretty, Mom. I’m sure Lady would have liked them,” Grey said as she passed him the bouquet.

  She grabbed the rest of the items and Lucas led them toward the back of the house. He picked up another bouquet from a bench as they passed. Grey clung to his side.

  “See this, Grey?” Lucas asked, pointing to a gazebo as they rounded the corner to the backyard, a yard that seemed to stretch on without boundaries.

  Greenery of various shapes and sizes surrounded the structure, while flower baskets adorned hanging planters and pots, which were strategically placed throughout the area. The flowers had lost their blossoms to the cooler temperatures, but this must have been breathtaking a month or so ago.

  “This was a kit I bought. I thought it would be a weekend project,” Lucas said. He glanced at Claire. “It took me six months to finish the thing.”

  Grey raced up into the gazebo. “It’s awesome. If we’d known you then and Mom had let me I would have totally helped you build it.”

  “I wish I’d had your help,” Lucas said. “It was so much more complicated than I thought it would be. I do enjoy it now, though.”

  “It’s lovely,” Claire said, stopping beside him as Grey leaned over the railing and waved at them.

  She rubbed her arms. Normally, Lucas would have pulled her to his side. Her throat tightened and she moved away as moisture blurred her vision. It would have been so much easier if she’d been able to just drop
off Grey and not have to actually see Lucas. She couldn’t have done that, though, and not further damaged her eroding relationship with her son.

  Lucas gestured to an area beyond the gazebo. “This way to the garden.”

  They headed down a short path that opened onto the garden. Claire stopped short as Grey raced to a circular clearing at the path’s center, lined with Adirondack chairs and old wooden end tables. The foliage and flowers here still had a hint of their former glory. Claire turned to Lucas. “It’s beautiful, Lucas. Did you do all this? I can’t imagine what it was like when everything was in bloom.”

  “I hired a crew, but I helped with the planning and some of the work. I have help keeping it up, as well, though I do what I can.” He shrugged. “I really created this for my mother. She enjoys it when she visits and I’m hoping she’ll eventually come here to live. She loves a good garden.”

  “You did this for your mom?” Grey asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s cool. She’s one lucky mom.” He scooted down the steps of the gazebo. “Where did you bury Lady?”

  Lucas’s smile faded. “Over here.”

  He showed them down a side path to a lawn surrounded by more foliage and flowers. A small mound of dirt and a wooden cross marked the grave tucked into an alcove with what appeared to be rosebushes.

  “Are these roses?” Claire asked.

  Lucas nodded. “They bloomed early this year. We had that cold weather earlier and they didn’t make it. It’ll be pretty when they bloom again, though.” He gestured to the cross. “I threw that together with scrap wood, but we can make something else if you’d like, Grey.”

  Grey tilted his head. “I don’t mind the cross, but a headstone would be nice, if they don’t cost too much.”

  Lucas glanced at Claire. “I think we could find something that would work. If your mom doesn’t mind, maybe we can go together to pick it out, the three of us. That’ll give us a chance to figure out what it should say.”

  Grey nodded, his forehead creased in thought. “Yeah, we’ll have to come up with something good. I’ll think about it.” He glanced at Claire. “Mom, you’re good with that stuff. Will you help? Oh, and is it okay for us to go with Lucas to find a headstone?”