The Last Chance Matinee

by Mariah Stewart

  The property appeared well maintained, the grass and shrubbery neatly trimmed. The tall trees had no dead or hanging branches that she could see. Who, Cara wondered, had been caring for the property? Had Fritz kept a crew on retainer to keep up his boyhood home?

  She turned off the car radio, bracing herself to get out. Moments later, a car went by, making a leisurely pass, and Cara wondered if it might have been Des or Allie, but the car continued to the corner before making a left turn. The key to the house hung from the same ring that held her car keys, but Cara couldn’t bring herself to walk up the drive and unlock that massive front door.

  She also didn’t want to be the first to arrive, didn’t want to be the one to open the door to greet the others when they got there, and, for some reason, didn’t want to be alone in the house. She was nervous enough about meeting her half sisters again, especially under such bizarre circumstances. Cara had promised herself to remain open-minded, to do whatever she had to do to get along with the other two, even to try to get to know them as her—their—father had wanted. She wasn’t naïve enough to think it was going to be easy.

  None of this was going to be easy.

  She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and while Darla had sent her on her way with a whole bunch of muffins and a batch of brownies, Cara wanted a meal. A big veggie burger, maybe, and a really good salad. She made a U-turn and headed toward Main Street, two short blocks away. She’d passed both the Hudson Diner and a small restaurant on her way through town. Either would suffice tonight.

  She parked in the small municipal lot, got out of the car, and headed to the diner, but not before drawing her down coat around her and lowering her head against the wind. March was, indeed, coming in like a lion in Pennsylvania.

  Where was the theater? she wondered as she glanced up and down Main Street. How soon could they explore it? How would they assess the repairs, and how would she and the other two be able to tackle the job and complete the task Fritz had left for them? Would they get along? How awkward was this first night going to be?

  She wondered if the other two would arrive together.

  That was answered fifteen minutes later while Cara sat in a booth rereading the letter Pete had sent reminding her and the others of “the rules of the game,” as he called them.

  “Excuse me, Cara, but would it be okay if I joined you? Would you mind?”

  Startled to hear her name spoken in this place where she knew no one, Cara looked up. “Oh. Hi, Des.”

  “If it’d make you too uncomfortable, it’s okay. There are other booths available, and I can—”

  “No, no. It’s fine. Really. I was just surprised to see you.”

  “I thought I’d grab a bite to eat before I went to the house,” Des explained. “I did go over there, but I just couldn’t . . . I didn’t want to be the first one there. I didn’t want to go into that empty place alone.”

  “I did the same.” Cara gestured for Des to sit. “I was hungry after the drive and I doubted there’d be food in the house. I guess we’ll have to go food shopping after we get settled in tonight.”

  “I hope something will be open. This place looks like ‘Rolls up the sidewalks at eight p.m.’ could be their town motto.”

  Cara slipped the letter back into the envelope, but not before Des saw what she’d been reading.

  “I just reread my copy, too.” Des slid into the worn bench seat and placed her bag and jacket next to her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m finding this whole thing curiouser and curiouser.”

  “It’s . . . well, yes. It’s strange. Everything about this is strange.”

  “Think we’ll be able to do it? Last long enough to do what he wanted?” Des laughed softly. “Leave it to him. Restore a theater! Like it’s something we’d tackle over a long weekend.”

  “I don’t think he thought it’d be easy. If all he’d wanted was to have the theater repaired, he could’ve hired someone. I think he wanted to challenge all three of us. Make us work together.”

  “To force us to get to know each other?” Des shook her head. “There has to be an easier way than making three strangers live together and hoping we’ll bond over the experience.”

  “I’m the only stranger,” Cara reminded her.

  “Allie and I hardly have a sisterly relationship. We never see each other and rarely even speak on the phone. You might have noticed that she walked away after the meeting at Uncle Pete’s as if she didn’t know either of us.”

  “So I’m assuming you didn’t make the trip together?”

  “I called her to suggest that we time our flights so that we could meet up at the airport and rent a car together, but she didn’t pick up. I left a voicemail but she never called me back. Typical Allie. I don’t let it bother me anymore.” Des looked longingly at the tray a passing waitress carried to the next table. “Did you order yet?”

  “A veggie burger and a salad.” Cara flagged down their waitress and asked for a menu for Des.

  “You’re a vegetarian?”

  “Mostly. I’m not crazy strict about it, though. Once in a while I’ll eat eggs and dairy, and occasionally I’ll eat fish, but no red meat ever. Never anything with fur or hooves.”

  The waitress was back in a flash and handed the menu to Des, who glanced over it quickly.

  Des folded the menu and handed it to the waitress. “I’ll have a burger also, but beef for me, please. Well done. Mushrooms and Swiss cheese, red onion, no tomato or lettuce. And an unsweetened iced tea.”

  The waitress wrote down the order and headed for the kitchen. Now that they had exhausted the initial make-nice chatter, a strained silence followed.

  Finally, Cara said, “So do you think she’ll show? Allie?”

  “Nothing she does surprises me anymore. But unless her financial status has changed drastically over the past month, she’ll probably be here. She needs the money from the estate. She won’t be nice about it and she’ll be an absolute pain in the ass the whole time she’s here.” Des paused. “Don’t take any of that personally.”

  “I won’t. But it’s funny she didn’t even call you to ask how you felt about the whole thing.”

  “How I feel about things is the farthest thing from her mind, I’m sure.” Des leaned back as the waitress served her iced tea. “Like I said, we’re not really close. She can be a bit testy at times. You probably noticed when we were at Uncle Pete’s.”

  “She didn’t seem to take the whole thing—meaning me—very well.”

  “Allie doesn’t take anything well that doesn’t benefit Allie.”

  “We were all blindsided that day. The last thing I expected when I went to Pete’s office was to find out my whole life had been one big—”

  Des interrupted her. “If you’re thinking of saying ‘lie,’ don’t. Don’t go there. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I’ve tried to be rational and look at this through Dad’s eyes. I’m trying to be fair.”

  “How’s that working for you?”

  “It wouldn’t be truthful to say I understand. I really thought I knew him, but now . . .”

  “I thought I did, too.” Cara stirred her iced tea and tried to ignore the sick feeling she always got now when she thought about her father’s tangled life.

  Des thought for a moment. “I think we each just knew a piece of him, whatever it was he wanted each of us to see. For us, he was the high-powered entertainment agent who was always flying off to meet with a client, the dad who had little time to spend with us, but always managed to buy some big splashy gifts that made your friends almost faint from envy. I know he loved us, though: I don’t mean to imply that he didn’t. It was just his way.”

  “That was never his way with me. He always seemed to have time. My mother wouldn’t have encouraged him to do the big-splashy-gift thing, though there were times when he did. My mom was so low-key. She didn’t believe in throwing money around.”

  Des laughed. “As far as my mother was concerned, you couldn’t throw e
nough of it.”

  “Funny he was so different with us,” Cara said. “It sounds like he took his cues from the women he was with. Low-key Susa, low-key life.”

  “High-ticket Nora, high-ticket life.” Des nodded. “Interesting.”

  The waitress appeared at the table with Cara’s veggie burger and salad.

  “Your burger will be up in another minute or so,” she told Des.

  “Cara, go on, eat. Don’t wait for me. You look like you’re starving.”

  “I am. Thank you.” Cara took a bite of her burger. “So what, you think Dad thought up this whole crazy business because he wanted us to put the pieces together?”

  “It’s hard to know what he was thinking. Uncle Pete said it had occurred to Dad toward the end that he should’ve been up-front with everyone years ago.”

  “I’m not sure how that would have gone over with your mother. Mine was pretty much a free spirit, but still, there’s a good chance she might have objected.”

  “Once my mom died, he could’ve told your mother the truth and that might’ve worked out.”

  “I don’t know. What could he have said?” Cara lowered her voice. “ ‘Oh, Susa, by the way, did I mention that I was married to someone else when I married you? But she passed away, so we don’t have to worry about those pesky bigamy laws.’ ”

  “Maybe he meant to tell her. To tell us.” Des sighed. “Oh hell, there’s no point in speculating, since they’re all gone.”

  “I think Pete was right. Dad was a coward and he couldn’t face any of us with the truth.” Cara picked at her salad. “He made Pete break the news and now he’s making the three of us complete this cockamamie renovation.”

  “I wonder if the theater’s really as bad as Uncle Pete made it sound. Maybe it’s not really that big a project.” For a moment, Des looked hopeful. “Then again, if it’d been an easy fix, he probably would’ve done it himself.”

  “We’re all smart and capable, right?” Cara said. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I like your positive outlook.” Des smiled for the first time since she sat down. “I think I’m going to like getting to know you.”

  “I think I’ll like getting to know you, too.” Cara almost added, And I think I might even like having you for a sister. But she took another bite of her burger instead. One conversation does not a sister make.

  The two finished eating and continued to make small talk until the waitress stopped at the table to ask, “Dessert, girls?”

  Cara looked across the table at Des. “I have homemade brownies in the car.”

  “Oh, well, then. No dessert for me,” Des told the waitress.

  Once out front, Des stopped on the sidewalk. “I’m parked across the street.”

  “I’m in the lot behind the diner. I’ll see you at the house.”

  “I could wait for you if you like,” Des offered.

  “Thanks, but I have to stop for gas. I’m driving on fumes.”

  “I noticed a gas station another block or two up. I’ll go on to the house, but I’ll wait for you in my warm car in the driveway.” Des looked a little wary. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that place was haunted.”

  Cara laughed and walked around the building to the lot, her head down against the wind, and got into her car.

  The gas station was on the next block, between the police station and a bar. Cara pulled next to one of the two gas pumps, rolled down her window, and waited for the attendant to come out. While she waited, she took a credit card from her wallet and a long drink of water from the bottle she’d left in the cup holder, and checked her email. From time to time, she looked toward the office. She could see through the windows that an older woman was behind the counter, and two men stood together talking, one of whom appeared to be wearing a police uniform. Several moments passed, and still no one came out to wait on her.

  After a full five minutes Cara got out of the car. Cop or no cop, she needed to get on her way.

  Cara walked quickly to the building and opened the door, the wind whipping her hair around her face.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to buy gas.” She pointed behind her in the direction of her Subaru. “Is there an attendant on duty?”

  Three pairs of eyes turned to settle on her.

  One of the men was, as she’d suspected, a police officer. The other had thick, straight blond hair and wore jeans and a sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off at the elbow in spite of the cold. He made no effort to conceal the fact that he was blatantly checking her out with a mixture of interest and curiosity.

  “Did you need change?” the woman behind the counter asked. She slipped on her glasses, and it appeared she was trying to get a better look at Cara.

  “No, I’m using a credit card,” Cara replied. She could feel her face beginning to color even as she tried to ignore the stares.

  An odd silence followed. For a moment, no one moved. Finally, the guy in the jeans said, “I’ll take care of it, Sally.”

  He held the door open for Cara, then followed her to the car.

  “What’s it take?” He opened the gas tank cover.

  “Regular.” She slid behind the wheel, uncomfortably aware that his eyes were boldly following her. “Fill it, please.” She rolled up the window against the cold and turned up the heater.

  The police officer came out of the office and waved. Cara heard him call, “See you in the morning.”

  The attendant waved back, then unscrewed the cap from the gas tank and filled it until the pump clicked off. He removed the nozzle and closed the gas cap with a twist, then walked to her window.

  “That’ll be thirty-five dollars even,” he told her.

  Cara handed him the card.

  “Be right back.” He went into the office to swipe her card. The woman behind the counter said something and they both laughed. He was still chuckling when, a minute later, he came back out and handed Cara the credit slip to sign.

  “Thanks,” Cara said.

  “So you’re from Jersey.” He leaned casually on the driver’s-side door.

  Cara looked up into very blue eyes and nodded. “Let me guess. The license plate gave me away?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head, his eyes still fixed on hers. It struck Cara that up close, his face appeared more interesting than handsome. He had the kind of high cheekbones and long, thick lashes that most women would kill for.

  She hated to admit it even to herself, but the combination of those pale, crystal-blue eyes and that blond hair was arresting, and totally masculine. His face might have been pretty if it weren’t for the flat place high on the bridge of his nose that might have been on the wrong side of someone’s fist but which did nothing to detract from his appeal. If anything, it enhanced it.

  “So what was it then?” Cara forced herself to look away to sign her name, then handed the slip back to him.

  “Did you know that New Jersey’s one of only two states where by law an attendant has to pump your gas? Oregon’s the other one, in case you’re curious.” He took the slip and stepped away from the car. “Everywhere else, it’s self-service. Like here, in Pennsylvania.” He smiled. “Where everyone pumps their own.”

  She stared at him dumbly, her face growing red.

  “You have a nice night now.” He gave her a receipt and lightly slapped the hood of the Subaru before walking back to the office, his stride long and easy.

  Her cheeks burning, she drove away and headed for Hudson Street. Had she known that Pennsylvanians pumped their own gas? She’d lived her entire life in New Jersey and had never had to operate a gas pump.

  No wonder they’d been laughing. She tried to work up some indignation at the fact that they’d been laughing at her, as well as the fact that he’d been so obviously checking her out. Her indignation lasted only until she reminded herself that she’d checked him out just as closely.

  Cara pulled into the driveway behind Des, thinking she was going to have to nurse this ta
nk of gas for a very long time.

  When Des saw Cara, she got out of her car, opened her trunk, and started to unload her bags.

  “You weren’t kidding about not going inside alone,” Cara called to her.

  “No way am I going in there by myself.” Des pointed to the house. “But look—there’s a light on in one of the back rooms.”

  “Probably left on by whoever takes care of the property,” Cara replied. “Got your key?”

  “Right here.” Des held up her hand just as another car pulled in behind Cara. “That must be Allie.”

  Both women had started toward the third car when a police cruiser pulled over and stopped at the foot of the driveway. The officer who got out was the same one Cara had seen at the gas station. He walked up to Allie’s car and motioned for her to roll down the window.

  “Uh-oh,” Des whispered. “That doesn’t look good.”

  “I think we should wait here,” Cara said. “That doesn’t look like a social call.”

  They watched as Allie handed over her license and registration.

  “Oh crap, what’s she done?” Des muttered.

  The officer returned to his car and got in. A few minutes later, he walked back to Allie’s window and handed her something. It appeared he and Allie exchanged a few words. He turned to walk away, and Allie got out of her car just as the front door of the house slammed. All eyes turned toward the house, where a tall, trim woman with blond hair, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, trudged across the lawn to join them.

  “You causin’ trouble here, Benjamin?” she called to the officer.

  “No, ma’am. Just a polite inquiry.” He turned to her, his hands on his hips.

  The woman stopped midway between Des and Cara, and Allie and the officer, a smile on her face. “Inquiring about a pretty face you didn’t recognize?”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t know until I pulled her over that she had a pretty face.” He touched what would’ve been the brim of his hat, had he been wearing one. “ ’Night, ma’am.” He nodded to Cara and Des. It seemed he said something to Allie under his breath, because she turned abruptly and started taking things out of the backseat of her car.