A Year of Extraordinary Moments (A Magnolia Grove Novel)

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “How can I ever thank you?” Alice said.

  Charlie claimed such a thing wasn’t necessary, and no matter how much she insisted, he never took anything more than a home-cooked meal and a basket of fresh eggs.

  The year Dominic dropped out of high school, Alice asked Charlie to get him a job at the power company, and he did. He’d told the foreman, Albert Henniker, that Dominic was both dependable and trustworthy. That summer, Dominic moved out of his grandma’s house and into the apartment he shared with a beanpole nicknamed Broom. Before the year was out, Dominic had missed four straight days of work without bothering to call in, and he got fired.

  Of course, Albert Henniker took Charlie to task for making such a misguided recommendation. He’d looked across the desk and said, “I’m extremely disappointed in your judgment of character.”

  Two weeks later, Charlie was moved from group supervisor to a spot in vehicle maintenance. Although the incident was like a burr stuck to the seat of his trousers, he’d never once mentioned it to Alice. When she talked about Dominic, he nodded cordially, then changed the subject as soon as there was an opening.

  Shortly after Dominic had moved to Philadelphia, Charlie’s relationship with Alice went from meeting once or twice a week to meeting every day. He’d recently retired and had plenty of time to kill, so he’d stop by early in the morning, claiming he’d noticed a squeaky door or a loose tile. He’d fix that one thing, then stay for the rest of the day. In the afternoon they’d sit at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea or lukewarm coffee, and it seemed there was always something to talk about. When he told stories of working at the power plant or being in the army, Alice leaned forward and soaked up every word.

  That summer, on a day when they’d taken in a show at the Rialto and then stopped for dinner at the Red Rooster, Charlie said there was something they needed to talk about.

  “I’m alone and you’re alone, Alice,” he said. “That’s not the way God intended it to be. There’s no reason why we—”

  “Don’t.” She touched her fingers to his mouth. “You were Joe’s best friend. It’s wrong . . .” She never finished that statement because she couldn’t honestly say why it was wrong, but on the nights when she allowed herself to imagine Charlie’s touch, the kind of touch a husband and wife share, the nightmares came at her like a screeching hawk. She’d dream of Joe at his angriest, his dark eyes hooded and his mouth drawn tight. In the morning she’d awaken, firm in her resolve to keep things just as they were.

  Now that Dominic had returned, Charlie stopped by far less often, only twice in the three weeks he’d been there. Knowing there was no love between the two men, Alice began to worry that the sight of Dominic’s car sitting in the driveway had something to do with this change.

  After three days straight without even a call, she telephoned him. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  Charlie was slow in answering. “I’ve missed you also, but figured maybe you needed a few weeks to visit with your grandson. I didn’t want to butt in.”

  “Butt in?” Alice laughed. “You could never . . .”

  “Well, I was just on my way out to get some lunch and the newspaper, if you’re sure I’m not—”

  “I’ve got ham salad already made in the refrigerator, so come on over.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Charlie was at the front door.

  Alice opened it and smiled. Before he had a chance to say anything, she held her finger to her lips and made a shushing sound.

  “Let’s sit in the kitchen,” she whispered. “I don’t want to wake Dominic.”

  Charlie followed her through to the back of the house, then dropped down in the large cushioned chair. She poured two glasses of sweet tea and sat across from him. Charlie glanced up at the kitchen clock.

  “It’s almost two thirty. Is he sick?”

  She looked over with a quizzical expression.

  “Dominic,” he clarified. “You said he was sleeping.”

  “Oh, that.” She blushed with a touch of embarrassment. “No, he’s not sick, but it was a late night.”

  A scowl of disapproval settled on Charlie’s face.

  “I think he was talking to some friends about a possible job,” Alice explained.

  “In the evening maybe, but at night?”

  She nodded and avoided his eyes. “Is your tea sweet enough?”

  “The tea is fine. What kind of job?”

  She slumped back in the chair and heaved a sigh. “Bartending.”

  “But you don’t—”

  “I know, I know. He said he’s looked everywhere, and there’s nothing he’s qualified for except . . .”

  “Bartending?”

  She lifted her eyes and gave a chagrined nod.

  Given his past experience with the boy, Charlie couldn’t hold back.

  “That’s a flat-out lie!” he said. “There’s a HELP WANTED sign in the window of the Texaco station down by the highway. Ed needs someone to work the evening shift.”

  “Maybe Dominic doesn’t feel qualified.”

  “It’s sitting behind the register at a gas station. How can he not be qualified?”

  Alice didn’t have an answer, so she sat there feeling foolish. It was a feeling she didn’t appreciate, and before long, it was pushing up against her thoughts. She stood, excused herself, then tromped up the stairs.

  Without bothering to knock, she burst into Dominic’s room, snapped up the window shade, and pulled back the blanket.

  “You told me there were no jobs,” she said angrily. “But the gas station is looking for help.”

  “Whoa!” Dominic sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. “What the hell?”

  “Charlie told me the Texaco station is looking for someone to work evenings. A job like that could tide you over until—”

  “Grandma! Gimme a break; I just woke up.”

  “It’s two thirty in the afternoon! Get dressed and go ask about the job.”

  Since Dominic wasn’t planning to be in Magnolia Grove that long, he hadn’t actually considered getting a job, but the thought of a little extra money in his pocket was appealing. Sitting in a gas station wasn’t all that hard. People pumped their own gas and usually only stopped in for a soda or a candy bar, so there’d be little to do other than keeping an eye on the place.

  “Okay, I’m on it,” he mumbled. He swung his legs to the floor and started for the bathroom.

  Alice returned to the kitchen feeling pleased with herself. “Dominic’s going to the gas station right now to apply for the job.”

  Charlie gave a dubious smile and didn’t say a word.

  16

  The Job

  The HELP WANTED sign had been taped to the gas station window for nearly a month and was starting to fade. The words EVENING SHIFT, once a bright red, were now a watered-down shade of pink. When Dominic walked in the door, Ed Farley was leaned back in the desk chair with his eyes half closed.

  Dominic’s voice startled him, and he jumped up. “Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “How can I help you?”

  “I said I’m here about the job.”

  “That’s great. Excellent. You okay with working the evening shift?”

  Dominic gave an unenthusiastic shrug and nodded.

  “What about experience, and references?”

  “Not from around here, but Charlie Barnes suggested I’d be good for this.”

  “You a friend of Charlie?”

  “He and my grandma are like this.” Dominic held up two fingers twisted together.

  “And your grandma is . . . ?”

  “Alice DeLuca.”

  As soon as Farley learned that Dominic was Alice DeLuca’s grandson, he hired him on the spot, no application, no references.

  He spent the next two hours showing Dominic around the station, explaining the credit card authorization process, showing him how to release the sticky handle on the pump in lane three, and detailing the different grades of engine oil. Once all of that was don
e, he tossed Dominic a set of keys with the bright-orange FARLEY’S FILLING STATION fob and said, “You can close up at ten.”

  Then he headed home for what would be his first night off in three weeks.

  At ten o’clock on the dot, Dominic switched off the lights, locked the door, and left with the twenty bucks he’d filched from the register. He headed over to Murphy’s Ale House, hoping some of his old buddies would be around.

  Broom was a head taller than anyone else, and with a mop of stick-straight blond hair, he was impossible to miss. Dominic spotted him the minute he stepped inside. He waved, and Broom waved back. Seconds later, Dominic was standing at the bar ordering a whiskey. He knocked that one back, ordered a second, then backed up the drinks until his twenty bucks gave out. After that, he told the bartender to run a tab.

  Murphy’s closed at two in the morning, and by then, Dominic and Broom were so drunk they could barely stand. Dominic climbed into his car, pulled away from the curb, then lowered the window, stuck his arm out, and yelled back, “See ya tomorrow.”

  Alice was in bed, sound asleep, when he finally got back to the house. After bumping his way past the sofa and lamp table, he practically crawled up the stairs, fell into bed, and slept for twelve hours straight.

  The noonday sun had come and gone by the time he got up. He showered, then came downstairs, saying he could use a bite to eat before he went back to work. When he sat down at the table, Alice was full of questions about the job.

  “It’s good,” he said. “I’m the evening manager.” He pulled the keys from his pocket and jingled them as if that was proof. “I’m responsible for closing up.”

  Alice gave a smile of satisfaction. “I knew you’d do well. I’m very proud of you.”

  As he wolfed down the plate of ham and eggs, she said, “And what about the Briggs girl? Have you talked to her?”

  Dominic rolled his eyes and looked away. “No, not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  Alice wanted to ask exactly what “working on it” meant, but before she had the chance, he was out the door.

  17

  Early Closing

  On Dominic’s third night at the gas station, a bombshell driving a canary-yellow ’82 Corvette pulled into the third lane and climbed out of the car. It was almost nine thirty, and a chill had settled into the air, but she was wearing the skimpiest shorts imaginable.

  After noticing her, Dominic couldn’t help but notice the car. He stood at the window and watched as the woman bent over to slide the pump nozzle into the gas tank. He debated for a few seconds, then walked outside and called to her.

  “Need some help with that?”

  “Nah, I got it.”

  Dominic continued moving forward. “That pump can be tricky; shuts off for no reason.”

  She looked across at him and flashed a toothy smile. “Seems to be working okay now.”

  What little there was of the shorts appeared to be white, but, like the car, everything else was yellow: her sandals, toenails, tank top, even earrings. Standing next to her, he could see goose bumps rising on her bare arms.

  “You look cold,” he said.

  She laughed. “I am, but I didn’t want to take the time to stop and change.”

  He took the pump handle and gave a nod toward the convenience store. “Go wait inside where it’s warmer. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She tilted her head, smiled, then sashayed across the lot.

  As Dominic topped off the tank, he saw her watching him from the office window. When the pump clicked off, he replaced the nozzle and met her inside. She’d settled into his chair, feet propped on the half-open bottom drawer.

  “Want coffee?” he asked.

  “Coffee?” She scrunched her nose. “Is that the best you’ve got to offer?”

  He laughed. “If you’ve got time to kill, I’ll close up, and we can go have a drink at Murphy’s.”

  She gave a throaty laugh, then pushed herself away from the drawer and swung the chair around full circle. “That sounds better.”

  This was too good to pass up. He glanced at the wall clock: 9:45.

  What the hell. It’s only fifteen minutes until closing time anyway.

  He pulled the keys from his pocket, snapped off the light, and let the door slam shut as they walked off.

  “I’m Dominic, by the way.”

  “Celeste,” she said.

  With his thumb already tucked inside the waistband of her shorts, they headed for Murphy’s. Broom was standing at the bar, but Dominic waved and passed him by as he steered Celeste toward the booths in the back.

  “Less noisy,” he said. After she sat, he slid in beside her. Close. So close that his leg was pushed up against her naked thigh.

  He ordered a beer; she ordered a martini, two olives. Before she was halfway through her story about Wayne, the no-good boyfriend she’d left in Louisiana, her glass was empty, and she was ready for another one. By then, she’d moved on to talking about how Wayne spent his days playing golf while she was waiting tables.

  Celeste plucked the olives from the second martini and popped them into her mouth. “There I was working my butt off; then Wayne tells me that since I’m making such good tips, maybe he’ll concentrate on his game and go pro. That’s when I decided to leave.”

  Dominic ran his fingers along her bare arm. “So now you’re living in Magnolia Grove?”

  “I ain’t living anywhere. I’m on my way back to Philly.”

  “No shit,” Dominic said with a grin. “That’s where I’m from.”

  “I thought you owned the gas station.”

  “Nah, I’m just the evening manager.”

  When he’d come to Magnolia Grove, Dominic hadn’t planned on returning to Philadelphia. He’d thought of trying someplace in New Jersey—Patterson or Little Falls—but now he pushed those places aside.

  “I’m heading back to Philly, too. Not immediately, but soon.”

  “Oh? You looking to ride with somebody?”

  “I got my own car, but if you wanna hang around for a while, maybe we could do that tag-team thing on the road. You know, have some fun.”

  He tipped the Miller bottle to his mouth, took a long drink, then set it back on the table.

  “I’m all for fun.” She scooted closer and wrapped her foot around his ankle. “I might be willing to stay for a while. It depends on what you’ve got to offer.”

  Shortly after twelve, they left Murphy’s and checked into the Budget Motel a quarter mile from the gas station. Once inside the room, Dominic tossed his keys on the dresser and peeled off his jeans. It was after three when Celeste passed out from too much alcohol and not enough food.

  Dominic climbed out of bed, hurriedly pulled his clothes on, grabbed his car keys from the dresser, and headed for home. It was still dark, so hopefully he would be able to make it to his room without waking his grandmother.

  Once inside the house, he emptied his pockets, leaving his wallet and cell phone on the hall table, then tiptoed up the stairs. He never noticed the orange key fob was missing.

  18

  The Next Morning

  Alice was out of bed before the rooster crowed, the same as always, and since it was Thursday, she was planning to do the wash. She emptied the upstairs hamper and gathered towels from the bath, then started downstairs. She was loading the washer when she thought about Dominic’s work clothes and figured she’d toss those in also. Returning upstairs, she eased the door to his room open and scooped up the pile of clothes on the floor.

  She expected his work clothes might have ground-in dirt or oil stains, so she looked them over carefully before tossing them in the washer. The only thing she found was a smudge of scarlet-colored lipstick on the shoulder of his shirt.

  A smug smile curled her mouth as she spritzed a bit of Spray ’n Wash on the stain and dropped the shirt into the washer. It was nice to know that after weeks of her preaching to him about what was right and what was wrong, Dominic had move
d ahead and done the right thing after all.

  That morning, she baked a full tray of his favorite muffins, then mixed up a bowl of potato salad for lunch. Perhaps today would be a good time to ask Dominic if he’d like to invite Tracy Briggs and her son for Sunday dinner. The thought of meeting her great-grandson brought a swell of happiness to Alice’s heart.

  She was trying to decide between a pork tenderloin and roast chicken for Sunday dinner when she heard the musical sound of Dominic’s cell phone. Not wanting it to wake him, she hurried into the hallway and answered with a cheery, “Good afternoon.”

  “Afternoon,” a woman mumbled. “Is Dominic there?”

  “Yes, but he’s sleeping.”

  “Can you wake him? I’ve got to tell him something important.”

  Almost certain this was the news she’d been hoping for, she asked, “Is this Tracy?”

  There was a pause, and then the woman said, “No, it’s Celeste.”

  Celeste? “Celeste who?”

  “Just say ‘Celeste’; he knows me.”

  “From where?”

  “From last night.”

  The cheerfulness suddenly disappeared from Alice’s voice and her heart. “Last night? Are you certain it’s Dominic DeLuca you’re looking for?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. On second thought, don’t bother waking him,” she said. “Just tell him he left the gas station keys in my room. I’ll bring them with me tonight.”

  Alice had a dozen questions, but before she could ask a single one, the girl was gone.

  Hours later, when Dominic got up and came down for breakfast, there was nothing on the table but a pot of lukewarm coffee.

  “No eggs this morning?” he said.

  Slumped back in Joe’s big chair, Alice just shook her head. “I’m not feeling so good today,” she said.

  She didn’t mention the call.

  19

  Alice DeLuca

  After Dominic left, I sat there in Joe’s chair and cried as I haven’t cried since I was seventeen. I don’t even know the Briggs girl, yet I know what she’s feeling.