“Memorial Day is around the corner. You will.”
“You think that candy and the chance to hit a golf ball into a clown’s mouth will bring tourists?”
His gray eyes turned cloudy. “In case you haven’t noticed, Truhart doesn’t have movie stars and sunshine three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. We don’t have theme parks, and shopping malls, and resorts. We don’t even have a gym, as you found out.” His voice was soft, but full of something that made me realize just how much Edge cared about this town. There was passion in his tone. “What we also don’t have is an industry. Logging peaked almost a century ago.”
I had wanted to see Edge serious for once. I changed my mind. It was like staring into the sun.
I looked down at the bag in his hands and swallowed. Now I knew something that stirred Edge. Something that mattered greatly.
But I had things I cared about, too.
“You have your goals and I have mine.”
“Don’t judge me for trying to help my hometown, Lily. You, more than anyone, should know what it’s like to try for a comeback.”
“You save the town, and I’ll save its people.” I sounded waspish and sanctimonious, even to my own ears.
“We don’t have to be on opposing teams, Lily.”
“I plan on winning, just the same.”
LESSON ELEVEN
Everyone Has Bad Days
On Friday night Elizabeth and her fiancé invited me to Lori’s
Restaurant for dinner.
I hadn’t been out with friends in ages. And I was tired of hiding in my room at the Callahans’. Louise needed time with her family. And maybe if I wasn’t around tonight, Edge might visit the house. We had been avoiding each other once again.
Besides, tonight was a night when I had a particular reason to keep busy. Tonight was the season opener of Just Lose It. I didn’t trust myself to stay away from the television. Getting out was a nice distraction.
Elizabeth pulled up at the Callahans’ at six thirty, and when I walked out, a tall, dark, and handsome man held open the back door of her Honda. I was surprised to be greeted by the deputy sheriff, J.D. Hardy, whom I met at the Fit4You meeting. J.D. shook my hand and reintroduced himself. He was equally handsome out of uniform, in jeans and a chambray shirt.
When I climbed in, he asked, “Are you comfortable in the backseat of this tiny go-cart?”
Elizabeth turned around from the passenger seat. “Enough about my car, J.D. Just because you drive a monster truck with flashing lights doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us compact-car drivers.”
“At least I don’t get stuck in a snow drift a dozen times a year,” he said with a crooked smile my way before closing my door.
When J.D. sat behind the wheel, Elizabeth said, “That was only four times. And why are you driving my car if you hate it so much?”
“Because I don’t want to see you get stuck a fifth time.” He grinned as he backed down the driveway.
Elizabeth sent me an apologetic look over her shoulder. “Sorry, Lily. J.D. has had a lot of fun teasing me about my car this winter. What he doesn’t know is that I get stuck on purpose. Then he gets to play hero and come to my rescue.” She scooted closer to him.
He put his hand on the back of her headrest. “You’re out of luck. There’s no snow in the foreseeable future. In fact, it looks like we might have an early spring.”
“Isn’t this spring now?” I asked.
Elizabeth laughed. “Spring is late May around here. And it lasts about two weeks. Then we go straight to summer.”
“You mean it still might snow?”
“Not might. It will. A few years ago, it snowed in the second week of May,” J.D. said.
I pictured my walkers stumbling through snow drifts. It would be messy and difficult. On the bright side, trudging through foot-deep snow would be a good workout for them.
“Maybe I could have the walkers put on their cross-country skis and pull me in the sleigh.” Ha. Too bad Edge didn’t hear me. I wasn’t above humor after all.
Lori’s was crowded. The parking lot overflowed to the road and J.D. dropped us close to the door before parking on a side street. The scent of French fries and burgers smacked me in the face before we even entered. If the air had calories, I would have had to fast for days.
Inside, the heat and buzz of the crowd and the music in the background filled the air, almost overpowering the smell of greasy food. Elizabeth and I stood next to a very politically incorrect cigar-store Indian statue and waited for a waitress to clear a table. People around us greeted her with as much enthusiasm as they greeted Edge. I smiled as she caught up with a family of five at a booth and waved toward the bar, where an older couple from my fitness class was eating dinner. When they saw me they leaned forward over the counter. I wondered if they were in pain until I realized they were trying to cover up the basket of fries they were sharing.
The bartender placed a bottle of ketchup in front of them. When he looked up, I felt like I had just drowned in a shot of whisky. I swallowed past the fire in my throat and took a deep breath.
Seriously?
How many jobs did Edge have? A garbage truck driver. An ice cream scooper. And now a bartender?
He wore a green Spartans baseball cap and a gray T-shirt with the Detroit Tigers’ D emblazoned across the chest.
He tipped his hat toward me.
I clenched my fist and acted like he was invisible. Now I had an idea where he had been the past few nights. He had been playing bartender to the home crowd while I had been hiding in his bedroom.
Someone down the bar called out something, and Edge grabbed two mugs from the shelf behind him, expertly filling them before sliding them down the bar. He knew what he was doing. The layer of foam was just right and nothing spilled. Show-off!
“Lily? Our table is ready.” Elizabeth’s voice startled me. She turned her eyes to see what I had been staring at. “Edge helps out Bootie on busy nights.”
J.D. waited for us by a table near a flat-screen television. There were four large flat-screens strategically placed around the restaurant. My heart raced and my palms grew sweaty. I didn’t know there would be so many screens at this restaurant. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that sports were the only thing people in bars ever watched. Not television shows about weight loss.
With its knotty-pine walls and the long bar, Lori’s could have been a classic dive bar. The kind men loved to slip out of the house and visit on winter nights. However, the hand of a woman had touched the restaurant, giving it a G-rated feeling. Fresh looking, pink-checked gingham curtains hung at the windows and sprigs of flowers in tiny vases dotted the center of the tables. My guess was that “Lori” was to blame for the feminine influence.
As soon as we were seated, a familiar-looking grizzled man appeared at our table.
Elizabeth introduced him to me. “Bootie, this is Lily Shue, our new fitness trainer.”
Bootie shook my hand. “I was at your first meeting. Welcome to Truhart! I’ll send a round of Single Ladies Ale, which my wife, Lori, loves.”
“Uh . . . I’ll just have a Heineken,” J.D. said with a frown.
Bootie slapped him on the back. “Set the date soon if you don’t want her to drink it.” He wagged an eyebrow at Elizabeth, who fingered her engagement ring. Then he leaned down and told me, “Lori can’t wait to get out of the house for one of your classes, Lily. She’s anxious to get back in shape and lose her baby weight. She’s home with our little girl right now.”
“Tell her I’m looking forward to meeting her. It’s hard to find time for yourself when you are taking care of a newborn.” I had a lot of clients who struggled to schedule time each week. I reminded them that everyone benefited when moms and dads were strong and had more energy.
Bootie leaned down and placed a hand on his large stomach. “I kind of need a little work myself. The baby is crawling everywhere and I’m starting to have a hard time keeping up with her
.”
“Get a babysitter and come together, Bootie. Lily can help you both,” said Elizabeth. When he left, she touched my shoulder. “Just a few weeks in Truhart and already you are in demand. Good job, Lily . . . Oh no, don’t look now, but guess who just walked in?”
I turned around to see Aubrey Vanderbeek. The one who had gym equipment and plenty of money to build her program. She was standing next to a short little woman with fuzzy dark hair and an unusual yellow honeycomb coat, and a man who could have been Aubrey’s twin except for the ponytail and the lack of breasts. His square face and the broad ridge above his eyebrows had the same Cro-Magnon look of toughness. Aubrey spotted us across the room and headed our way.
“Is it too late to hide?” Elizabeth asked. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one whose gut instinct was to dodge behind a menu when Aubrey walked in.
“Just smile, E. I’ll cover for you,” said J.D.
Aubrey stopped at our table. The smell of strong perfume mingled with the aroma of fried food, making my stomach cartwheel.
“Out for some healthy Truhart food, everyone?” She laughed at her own irony.
“We can’t resist two-for-one night at Lori’s,” replied J.D. “Are you taking advantage of the deal too?”
“Good God, no. We’re just stopping in before heading out to the Grande Lucerne. Our reservations aren’t for another hour, so we thought we would enjoy a drink.” Aubrey leaned down and winked at me. “Mine will be just a Perrier.”
“Really? Can’t handle your booze?” Elizabeth asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
“I can’t have all that beer going to my gut like some people.” She eyed the Single Ladies bottle in front of me. I resisted the urge to cover the label with both hands. Then her eyes drifted to my knee brace. “You still have that on?”
Aubrey was in charge of the grant on the west end of the county, so she should stay on her side.
I patted my knee. “Doctor’s orders.”
She whispered something in the man’s ear and he laughed. I wanted to yank her ponytail.
Elizabeth took over where Aubrey’s manners had failed. “Lily, this is Andrew Vanderbeek and Reeba Sweeney.”
Reeba was small and wide. And when she shook my hand I realized where the scent of perfume had come from. Her grip was surprisingly firm. Almost painful. No doubt she had strength and stamina. But she would need to lose weight if she wanted to avoid injury to her joints. Andrew shook my hand absently. As if I wasn’t interesting enough to remember. He might be strong, but his personality was weak.
Aubrey’s eyes grew wide and she cupped her mouth with her hands. “Edge Callahan, where have you been hiding?”
She walked across the restaurant, ignoring the people who were forced to dive out of her wake. She leaned over the bar for a kiss and practically hauled him over the top in her enthusiasm. He was saved from such a fate only by his sheer size.
Beside me, J.D. practically gagged. I felt the same way he sounded.
I remembered Edge telling me that Aubrey had tried to start a “thing” with him, but I hadn’t believed it. Now I understood what he meant. To anyone else, Edge might look like he was enjoying the conversation no one else heard. To me he looked like he wanted to stick his head under the tap. He kept running his hand over the back of his neck while Aubrey did all the talking.
When she finally moved away to join Andrew and Reeba, who had found a table, Edge ran a hand across his face where she had kissed him. I picked up my beer and took a big sip to hide my smile.
Edge glanced my way and our eyes met. I raised the bottle in the air in a mock salute to old flames. Instead of being embarrassed, he put his elbow on the bar and raised his hand, subtly offering a rematch of arm wrestling. Touché.
I turned in my chair and gave him my back.
“Oh look, it’s pouring on all the fans.” Elizabeth pointed to the television on the opposite wall. Sheets of rain descended on the outfield at Comerica Park. The camera panned the crowd as Tiger fans in soggy ski hats and winter jackets ran for cover, trying to avoid the downpour. “Hopefully it’s just a passing shower,” said Joe O’Shea, who stopped at the table to greet us.
After a moment he pointed to the menu and curled his lip. “No smoothies or quinoa on the menu, Lily. What are you going to eat?”
I didn’t bother correcting the way he pronounced quinoa, keenya, instead of keenwa. “I’m sure I can find something healthy on this menu, Joe.”
He crossed his arms in front of him. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”
Joe wasn’t the only one who complained about eating healthy at restaurants. Marva was waiting several tables down looking at her salad sorrowfully. In fact, more than a few people around us were grinning at me with skepticism. This was a good time to prove him wrong.
I understood his skepticism. It was one thing to live in a bubble and control everything that went into your mouth. But real life was full of all sorts of temptations and very limited choices. If I was going to get Truhart eat healthier, I needed to help people make decisions outside of their own kitchens and grocery carts.
I picked up the menu and scanned it. “I could take the bun off the hamburger and just eat the meat with the lettuce, pickle, and onion.”
The man behind me snorted. “Oh, that will taste good. Not!”
“Or I could order a grilled chicken sandwich on wheat toast. That’s a healthy option.”
“Hey, Bootie,” Joe called across the room. “Do you serve wheat toast here?”
Bootie made a face. The waitress saw us checking out the menu and stopped at the table, her pencil hovering over her notepad.
I scanned the menu again and slapped it down when I had my answer. “The chili, without the fries. Add a side salad and I’ll enjoy this beer with no guilt.”
Joe shrugged and turned toward the table behind us. “Too bad. I already ordered the chili fries.”
Elizabeth laughed and pointed to his table. “Actually, Marva is eating your chili fries, Joe.”
“What?” He moved across the room far faster than he had during today’s walk. The two of them exchanged words. Then Joe sat down and they both dug into the smothered fries.
As I turned back around, I caught Edge staring at me from behind the bar. This time it was his turn to mock me. He held up a mug and returned my salute. I wanted to throw a French fry at him. But he would probably do nothing more than catch it in his mouth. Instead I put my elbow on the table and offered to arm wrestle. I don’t know why I did it. It only made me remember the way he had kissed me in order to win.
Elizabeth and J.D. had finished ordering. She was cocking her head my way, trying to understand what I was doing with my arm. I made a quick recovery and ran my hand through my hair.
She misinterpreted my gesture. “Don’t let them get you down, Lily. Everyone is a just letting loose tonight. The game always gets everyone rowdy. But now that it is rained out, they need something else to entertain them.”
I almost choked on my beer when she said that word. Entertain. The game was rained out. I hadn’t thought about that possibility.
I held my breath and scanned the televisions around the room. One was still on the Tiger game as two sportscasters discussed the upcoming season. Two were showing a hockey game between the Edmonton Oilers and the Chicago Blackhawks.
I twisted my head to see the fourth TV on the wall behind me. Bootie was standing under it with the remote control in his hands. The ends of my fingers prickled as I willed him to find another baseball game. Anything else but the GATE network. But luck hadn’t been on my side all year.
He flipped through various news shows and stopped.
My body went rigid when I recognized the scene on the screen. I had never had the opportunity to see the tape when I was on the Just Lose It set. It was a shock to see through the eyes of the camera what I had experienced firsthand.
The television screen showed me standing with the other three trainers beside our clients as the camera s
canned the elite studio gym. I remembered the moment well. I had been so excited to be there on that first full day of shooting that I had barely slept the night before. The camera crew had already interviewed me. With the bright lights illuminating my wide smile, I proudly told them all about my background in kinesiology and nutrition. I described my experience at the Pacific X Gym. I shared my successes and my goals.
The cameras had been there when I first met my client, Farrah, who was one of the contestants trying to win the prize for who lost the most weight. I had been involved with preproduction meetings with the other trainers. Including the arrogant Rod Macintosh, who had already been on the show three seasons and was considered the veteran trainer with the most knowledge. The man had called me cute when he first shook my hand. My stomach burned now, as I watched him smile and cross his arms for the opening theme sequence.
I searched the wall for a plug to pull or a cable box to smash. What else could I do? Wrestle the remote from Bootie’s hands? Cover the television set with a napkin? Smash a chair through the screen? All I knew was that I had to keep the whole restaurant and town from watching me make a fool of myself.
Before I could do anything, Marva O’Shea yelled, “Hey, that’s Lily! It’s Just Lose It!”
Heads turned my way.
Across the room, someone pulled the remote from a nearby shelf and changed the channel on another television to the GATE network.
“Please don’t—” I started.
But Aubrey Vanderbeek drowned out my pleas by shouting over the crowd. “Turn it up! We wouldn’t want to miss the celebrity in our midst now, would we?”
The opening sequence cut away to a commercial. Thank God. I took a deep breath. “Maybe the rain has stopped. Check it out, Bootie.” He flipped channels on the television near our table, while the other TVs returned to the hockey game.
I took another deep breath. I shouldn’t feel so terrified. When my injury happened, the crew had been filming Rod. They would probably segue right into the next segment with nothing more than a mention of my replacement.
Fit for You Page 14
