Butternut Summer

by Mary McNear

  Then there was Jack, second on her list of what was wrong with her life. She hadn’t seen him since he’d come to dinner at her apartment, but his criminally gifted mouth, and hands, had left her replaying, at odd moments of the day and night, the, um, kiss he’d given her in the hallway of her apartment.

  Next on the list was Daisy, Daisy who Caroline needed to talk to today about a subject matter that would make both of them uncomfortable and Daisy, quite possibly, angry. And as if that wasn’t enough, there was—A light tap on the office door interrupted Caroline’s list. It was just as well, too, since she was already feeling much worse now than she’d felt before. Grandma Pearl would not have approved, she thought, hurriedly putting the papers away. If there was one thing her grandmother had had no patience for, it was self-pity, in any and all of its forms.

  “Come in,” she called out, forcing some brightness into her voice.

  “Mom?” Daisy said, cracking the door open. “Frankie said you wanted to see me.”

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Caroline said, feigning casualness. “I do want to see you.” She gestured for Daisy to come all the way into the office, but Daisy lingered warily in the doorway.

  “Mom, you don’t need an appointment to see me,” she said. “You see me every day, all day long. In the coffee shop, in our apartment . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Yes, Daisy. I’m aware of that. But there’s no reason we can’t see each other here, in my office, too.” And when Daisy still made no move to come inside, Caroline added sternly, “You know, honey, you’re not just my daughter. You’re also my employee.” Here was the real reason Caroline wanted to talk to Daisy in her office. She was hoping that if they met here, it would be possible for them to maintain at least a modicum of professionalism, a modicum of civility. Because Daisy wasn’t going to like what Caroline had to say to her.

  Daisy sighed now, a sigh of quiet inevitability, and, closing the office door behind her, she sat down on the folding chair facing Caroline’s desk. “Okay,” she said, “shoot.”

  “All right,” Caroline said, feeling suddenly uncertain. Now that she had Daisy’s attention, she didn’t know how to introduce the subject of Will Hughes. So she decided to stall a little and bring up a topic that was less incendiary.

  “Well, first of all, I wanted to ask you how you think Jessica is doing.”

  “Jessica? Um, okay, I guess,” Daisy said. “Why? How do you think she’s doing?”

  “I think, actually, she’s doing a little worse, honey, if that’s even possible.”

  “That bad, huh?” Daisy said, her face falling a little.

  “I’m afraid so. I don’t know how much longer we can carry her, Daisy. After all, this is a business, not a charity.”

  “No, Mom. You’re right,” Daisy said. “And, by the way, Jessica knows she’s not doing well here. She already has a contingency plan for if—or, I should say, for when—you fire her.”

  “Really?” Caroline asked, a little skeptically.

  “Uh-huh. She’s says she’s going to go to school to become a dental hygienist.”

  “Oh, honey,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “She’d flunk right out of that program.”

  “I know,” Daisy agreed. “But what if . . . what if, by some miracle, she didn’t? What if she actually graduated from a program like that and got a job in a dentist’s office?” Daisy almost whispered this last part. And for good reason. Just the thought of Jessica wielding sharp instruments destined for people’s mouths was enough to make Caroline shudder.

  “No, Daisy, you’re right,” she said. “We can’t let that happen. We can’t even let that come close to happening. She can stay, for now, but you’re going to have to help her, all right? You and Frankie.”

  Daisy looked relieved. “We will, Mom. We do. Frankie, especially, is so patient with her. He’s never once gotten annoyed with her, not even when she makes his job harder.”

  “Well, the man’s a saint, obviously.”

  Daisy smiled, nodding her agreement. “So we’ll give Jessica another try?”

  “We’ll give her another try,” Caroline agreed, without much enthusiasm.

  “And what about me? How I’m doing?” Daisy asked.

  “At Pearl’s?”

  Daisy nodded.

  Caroline paused. As waitresses went, Daisy was good, as good as they got, really. She could turn a table over even faster than Caroline could, and that was saying a lot. But since meeting Will, everything Daisy did at Pearl’s she did with a dreamy, almost languid preoccupation that set Caroline’s nerves on edge. Still, she couldn’t fault the quality of her work. She couldn’t even remember the last time Daisy had gotten an order wrong, or broken a glass, or returned incorrect change on a bill.

  “You’re doing fine, Daisy,” she said. “Better than fine. I never have any complaints about your work; you know that.”

  “Good,” Daisy said, pleased. She started to stand up. “Now, if my performance review is over, I think I better be getting back out there.”

  “Um, not quite, honey. There is one more thing . . .”

  Daisy sat back down again reluctantly. “Yes?”

  “Well,” Caroline said, and paused. She knew she couldn’t keep stalling. Still, how best to phrase this?

  Daisy saved her the trouble. “Mom, I know what you want to talk to me about. It’s Will, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” Caroline said. “But it’s not about Will per se. It’s more about you, Daisy. About you . . . staying focused right now. You’re only a year away from graduation, and you’re going to be applying to graduate schools this winter, and . . .” She paused again. This was harder than she’d thought it would be.

  “And what?”

  “And I wouldn’t want anything to interfere with your plans,” Caroline said, quickly, before she lost her nerve.

  Daisy flushed, not from embarrassment, Caroline saw, but from anger. “You wouldn’t want anything to interfere with my plans,” she repeated slowly. “Is that a euphemism, Mom, for ‘You wouldn’t want me to get pregnant’?”

  “No, of course not. The thought never crossed my mind,” Caroline said, and now it was her turn to flush. Because the thought had crossed her mind, and it had terrified her. Not that she thought it was likely, given how responsible Daisy was, but still, anyone could slip up once. And sometimes once was all it took.

  “Daisy, look, I don’t want this to turn into an argument,” Caroline said, trying to diffuse the tension she suddenly felt between them. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you. I do; I trust you implicitly. But you’re so close now, so close to getting all the things you want—a degree, a career, a whole life that will have nothing to do with Butternut or with Pearl’s. Or with . . . any of this,” she said, gesturing around her office. “I mean, for you, your college diploma won’t just be a slip of paper. It’ll be a guarantee that you’ll never have to waitress here again.”

  But Daisy only shrugged. “I don’t mind waitressing here.”

  “Well, no, not for a summer, maybe. But for a lifetime? I think you’d mind it, honey,” Caroline said gently.

  Daisy, though, seemed suddenly impatient. “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “And will you answer it honestly?”

  “I’ll certainly try,” Caroline said, a little offended by Daisy’s phrasing.

  “Would we even be having this conversation if I was dating someone other than Will? Someone who didn’t work at a garage? Someone who was in college, for instance, or, better yet—”

  “Daisy, I’d be concerned about your future whoever you were dating,” Caroline interrupted her.

  “Would you, Mom?” Daisy pressed. “This concerned? I don’t think so. I think this conversation is about Will. Will, specifically. About your not liking him. And because you don’t know him, Mom, because you haven’t even tried to get to know him, I can only think of one reason why you wouldn’t like him: you’re being a snob.”<
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  “A snob?” Caroline repeated, and the word stung. It stung because she knew it was true. She’d never been a snob before, as far as she knew, but she was being one now.

  “Yes, Mom, a snob. Admit it. You don’t think Will’s good enough for me, do you?”

  “I didn’t say that, Daisy. I just think . . . I just think you’re from two different worlds.”

  “Two different worlds?” Daisy asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “That’s right,” Caroline said stubbornly. “Because it’s not where you’ve come from, Daisy. It’s where you’re going. And you’re going somewhere, honey.”

  “And Will’s not?”

  Caroline hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know. But I think . . . I think he may have already gotten where he’s going.”

  “Mom, how could you possibly know that?” Daisy asked, looking hurt again. “And even if it were true, what’s wrong with where he is now? Whatever happened to what your grandpa Ralph used to say? About an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay? Because that’s what Will does already, Mom. And you didn’t used to think there was any shame in that.”

  “And I still don’t,” Caroline said flatly. “Especially since that’s all I have to show for my life at the end of every day. But I want you to have more than that; I want you to finish your education, and I want you to be successful, really successful.”

  “If by successful, you mean ‘rich,’ Mom, it’s not going to happen,” Daisy said. “I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not important to me. I’m going to be a psychologist, not a hedge fund manager. I’m never going to be rich.”

  “I don’t mean rich,” Caroline qualified. “I mean . . .” She hesitated. What did she mean, exactly? What was it she wanted for Daisy? Well, probably what all parents wanted for their children, she thought. She wanted Daisy’s life to be better than hers, easier than hers. She didn’t want her to have to work three hundred and sixty-two days of the year, the way Caroline had had to. She didn’t want her to have to wake up at five thirty A.M. every morning. Nor did she want her to live in a home that was mortgaged to within an inch of its life, drive a truck that already had two hundred thousand miles on it, or live a life full of grinding, almost constant worry about the future. But she didn’t say any of this to her, because Caroline was afraid that, like her earlier thoughts, it would smack of self-pity.

  So instead she said, “I don’t mean I want you to be rich, Daisy. I mean I want you to be secure, at least insofar as that’s possible in today’s world.”

  Daisy said nothing for a moment. Then she asked, “And you think Will is going to stand in the way of that?” Her face was pinker now.

  If he’s as much like your father as I think he is, he will, Caroline thought. But she couldn’t say that to Daisy. So she searched, instead, for another, less incendiary way to say it, but then realized there wasn’t one. God, she wasn’t used to this, she thought, this conflict in their relationship. She had no practice at it. And she had no stomach for it either. In the past, she and Daisy had always been on the same side. They’d always been on Daisy’s side. She sighed, ready for this conversation to be over. “Look,” she said, with a conciliatory smile. “Just don’t lose sight of your dream, okay?” She pretended to search for a paper on her desk then, hoping to signal that the conversation was over, but Daisy stayed where she was.

  “What if Will is my dream?” she asked, looking at Caroline steadily.

  “Then you need a better dream,” Caroline said, without thinking.

  “Mom,” Daisy said, and now she was angry and hurt. She stood up to leave.

  “Daisy, please, sit down,” she said.

  But Daisy hesitated. “Mom, I think you’ve already made yourself perfectly clear,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “No, I haven’t,” Caroline said, making up her mind. “I wasn’t going to say anything about this, but I think you need to know it, Daisy.”

  “Know what?” Daisy asked, still not sitting down.

  “Look, you know I try not to listen to gossip. If I did, I’d never get any work done around this place. But when I heard this, I paid attention. And I think you—”

  But Daisy held up her hand. “Is this about Will, Mom?”

  “Yes, it is. Will and . . . and someone else.”

  “Well, I don’t want to hear it,” Daisy said, her jaw set. “Really, I’m not interested in whatever’s making the rounds at Pearl’s, especially since there’s no way of knowing if it’s true or not. Besides, Mom, I trust Will.” Caroline saw that Daisy’s blue eyes were glazed with tears as she added, “The way I wish you trusted me. But if you can’t trust me, Mom, can you at least be happy for me? I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Ever.” She blinked then, and a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

  “Daisy,” Caroline said, swallowing past something hard in her throat. “I want to be happy for you—”

  “But you can’t be this time around, can you?” Daisy said.

  “No,” Caroline said softly.

  “Mom, I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted me to do,” Daisy said. “And the one time—”

  “Daisy,” Caroline interrupted her, genuinely shocked. “That’s not fair. I never pressured you to do any of the things you’ve done, any of the things you’ve accomplished. That’s all come from you.”

  “But I knew how important it was to you, Mom, that I do all those things,” Daisy said, holding back a sob. “And I’m glad I did them. But I need to lead my own life now. And if you don’t like the decisions I make, well, that’s too bad. Because you know what, Mom? You need to lead your own life, too.” She turned around then and opened the door to the office, but on her way out, she ran into the immovable wall that was Frankie.

  “Whoa, Daisy,” he said, catching her. “Are you okay?”

  But she disentangled herself from him and kept going.

  Frankie looked after her and then looked at Caroline, who was trying, very hard, not to cry, and said, “I’ll come back.” He reached for the door to close it again, but Caroline stopped him.

  “No, Frankie. Please, come in,” Caroline said, not wanting to be alone when Daisy’s words still stung the way they did.

  He hesitated, then came into her office, quickly filling the whole space. He started to say something, but he stopped. Caroline sighed. There weren’t going to be any easy conversations in this room today.

  “Is this about this morning, Frankie? About the meeting I was having when you came in to work?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I asked them to come early because I didn’t want you to know about it. I was hoping they’d be gone before you got to work.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  She exhaled a big breath. “They’re potential buyers, Frankie. From Ely. John Quarterman put me in touch with them. They seemed nice enough, and they know their stuff, too; they already own three successful restaurants in this area. And Frankie? Their offer’s fair, especially when you consider how much work this building needs.”

  He nodded. “What did you tell them?”

  “I told them I needed time to think about it. And I told them that my accepting the offer was contingent upon them hiring you, at twenty-five percent above your current salary, and that if they closed for renovations, they’d still have to pay you while they were closed. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Do you want to sell Pearl’s?”

  “It’s not a question of wanting to sell it. It’s more of a question of needing to sell it. I’ll owe the bank almost forty-five thousand dollars in September when my balloon mortgage payment is due. And I don’t have it, Frankie.”

  “What if . . . what if someone could give you some of the money, though? Would you still need to sell it?”

  “That . . . that would depend. But nobody’s going to give me any money, Frankie.”

  “Actually, I�
�m going to give you some money,” Frankie said.

  “Frankie,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “That’s very sweet.”

  “I’m not trying to be sweet,” Frankie said. “I’m trying to keep my job.”

  “You will keep your job, whatever happens. I’ll make them put it in writing.”

  “No, I mean my job working for you. I don’t want to work for anyone else. Besides, I’ve got over ten thousand dollars. That should tide the bank over for a while, shouldn’t it?”

  She shook her head; it wasn’t nearly enough. But that wasn’t what was bothering her right now. “Frankie, where’d you get that much money?” she asked. “And don’t tell me you saved it out of your salary. Because I already know for a fact you send your sister whatever you don’t need to live on yourself.” Frankie had gotten back in touch with his sister a few years before, the sister whose abusive husband he’d gone to prison for killing in self-defense, and he was helping to support her now.

  He shifted his considerable weight from one foot to the other foot now. “It’s from playing pool, actually.”

  She frowned.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Frankie said. “I mean, what’s a little wagering between friends?”

  “A little?”

  “Okay, a lot. But I like playing pool, I’m good at it, and I knew you needed the money. Or you would need it, someday. Besides, I’m lucky. Some people who play for money have trouble getting paid when they win. I’ve never had that problem before,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  Caroline laughed. “I don’t doubt that,” she said.

  “Look, I’ll leave you alone now. Just . . . just keep it in mind, all right?”

  “I will. Thank you,” she said. But she was suddenly exhausted, and when Frankie left, it was all she could do not to put her head down on the desk again.

  She thought about Daisy’s words about letting her lead her own life. They had cut her to the quick. Probably because she knew they were true. She’d never pressured Daisy, as she’d said, but that was only because she’d never needed to pressure her. And she’d never interfered in Daisy’s choices either, but again, that was because she’d always agreed with them. They’d always struck her as good choices—until now. And now, she realized, now that she disagreed with Daisy, she couldn’t stand back and let her live her own life. She didn’t know how to.