The Last Chance Matinee

by Mariah Stewart

  The last thousand feet were killers. Accustomed to running on the flat macadam of the streets of Devlin’s Light, Cara had to work harder to maintain her pace on the unfamiliar incline of Hidden Falls, but she made it to the top of the hill. The noise of the water had grown louder with every step, and the vegetation that grew along the path was thicker, but through the dense branches she could see the mist that rose from the rocks over which water rolled down into a pond twenty feet below.

  Cara knelt on a boulder the color of gunmetal and leaned forward to peer over the side. As waterfalls go, this was not one of the formidable affairs seen in movies—more of a spill than a rush—but it was breathtaking. The trees were still bare in mid-March, but she could envision how they might look once they leafed out and ferns grew along the water’s edge and the mountain laurel bloomed. Were these the falls, hidden deep in the dense wood, that gave the town its name? She sat and watched until the dampness from the boulder seeped through her shorts and caused her bones to chill. Pleased to have made the discovery on her own, Cara eased herself up and took one last look before making her way back to the path.

  The run downhill was easier than the run up. She slowed her pace when pine needles once again replaced bare dirt, and by the time she reached the back porch she was walking, her breath once again labored. She stretched for a moment while she cooled off, then went inside and poured a glass of water. Leaning against the sink while she drank, she let her eyes settle on the opposite wall, where a faded green teapot-shaped clock marked the passing of time with loud clicks as the second hand swept past numerals painted in a fancy script. Her eyes still on the clock, Cara finished the water in fourteen seconds, then rinsed the glass and placed it on the counter before heading upstairs for a hot shower.

  By the time she came back down in comfy sweats, her damp hair in a high ponytail, Des was working on a bowl of Cheerios, Allie was pouring the last of the one percent milk into a coffee mug, and Barney was at the stove, working over something in the frying pan.

  “I guess you had some sleep to catch up on today. You’re the last one down,” Barney greeted Cara. “Coffee?”

  “I’d love some.” Cara helped herself. “And actually, I was up early enough to hear you leave, Barney.”

  “Oh, did I wake you? I’m so—”

  “No, no. It was a good thing. I’m used to a lot of physical activity and I’ve been feeling restless since I left home. I did a little yoga, then went for a run.” Cara fixed her coffee and headed to the table. “I followed the path out back that goes through the woods.” She took a sip, then sat at the table. “You’ll never guess what I found.”

  “Bigfoot.” Allie yawned and began to scroll through her email.

  Cara laughed. “I think I found the hidden falls. Am I right?” She looked at Barney for confirmation. Barney nodded.

  Allie turned back, her face blank, and Cara said, “You know, like the name of the town? Hidden Falls? Is that still your property, all the way to the top of the hill, Barney?”

  “To the top of the hill and down the other side as far as Jackson Street, so yes, the falls are on our property. If you found them, you went quite a ways.” Barney took her seat at the table, a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in her hands. “That’s quite a climb. Eggs, Cara?”

  “No thank you,” Cara declined. “I had no idea where I was going, but the trail kept going up, so I had to see where it ended. I got almost to the top and I heard water splashing. When I got to the clearing and looked out over the rocks . . . there it was.” She sighed. “Beautiful. You two have to see for yourselves.”

  “Ahhhh . . . that’d be a no for me, thank you, but feel free to take a picture.” Allie never raised her eyes from her cell. “I didn’t come equipped for mountain climbing.”

  “Well, it’s technically a hill,” Barney told them. “A steep one, though, to be sure. Cara, I’m tickled that you made it all the way up. My brother and I used to love that place.” She stared out the back window, and Cara wondered if Barney might be watching for the children she and Fritz had once been.

  “When your dad and I were kids, it was the big thing to go up there and dive off the rocks into the pool. I guess kids still think that’s pretty cool, ’cause every summer I have to chase a bunch of them out. The fall is only about nineteen, twenty feet or so from top to bottom, and the pool is deep enough to dive into from that height, but you can get hurt real bad. Especially if you don’t know the layout of the pool, where the hidden rocks are and so on.”

  Something in Barney’s expression prompted Cara to ask, “Was anyone ever hurt, falling from the top?”

  “Just once. And that was an accident. A slip off the rocks.” Barney pushed her plate aside as if she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

  “How long ago was that?” Des asked.

  “Long enough that people don’t even talk about it anymore.” Barney picked up her pen and a small notepad that had been off to the right of her plate. Changing the subject, she asked, “Who wants what from the market?”

  “I’m fine with whatever you like, Barney,” Cara told her.

  “No, you’re not. You’ve barely eaten a thing since you arrived.” She slid the paper and pen over to Allie and said, “Write down something you like for breakfast. Brand, flavor, whatever. Then pass it along to the other two.”

  Allie put down her phone, picked up the pen, and wrote something, then held up the paper for Barney to read.

  “Yogurt? Could you be more specific?” Barney frowned. “Know how many kinds of yogurt are in the market these days? There’s low-fat. No-fat. Organic. Greek. Fruit. Plain. Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.”

  “Good point.” Allie lowered her head and wrote a few words before passing the paper to Cara.

  Cara glanced at what Allie had written. “Low-fat Greek yogurt. Plain or blueberry.” She looked up at Allie and said, “You know they add a lot of sugar and some other questionable artificial things to make up for the lack of flavor when they take out the fat, right? And that the latest research says that fat is actually good for you?”

  Ignoring Cara, Allie reached for the paper and added artificial sweetener and one percent milk to the list before giving it back to her.

  Cara shook her head and wrote down half-and-half and raw sugar, then paused to raise her eyes to look at the others. “I can make granola if anyone else would eat it besides me. The recipe makes a truckload.” She glanced from face to face. Only Allie didn’t nod.

  “I’d love to try it,” Des told her.

  “Me too.” Barney nodded. “Write down what you need.”

  Cara started to write down the ingredients. “My mom used to make it all the time.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Allie muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cara put down the pen.

  “It means I’d expect nothing less than homemade granola from someone who grew up in a commune.”

  “I can’t tell for sure if you’re being deliberately snotty or if you’re just plain rude.” Des glared at Allie.

  “Hey, it’s okay. My mom was born in a commune.” Cara smiled wryly. “The granola is great on yogurt, by the way.”

  “Did she make that, too?” Allie asked dryly.

  “She did when she could get raw milk.” Cara bent her head and went back to writing her list.

  “Cara, I didn’t know that about your mother. Fritz never said,” Barney told her. “Are your grandparents still there? Did your mother have siblings?”

  “My grandparents moved on a long time ago. My mom didn’t really keep in touch with them, nor they with her. The last we heard, they were out west. New Mexico, Arizona, California—who knows where they are or even if they are still alive? As for my mom having siblings—she said all the kids in the commune were raised as brothers and sisters. So if any of them were her actual blood siblings, she never really knew.” Cara couldn’t help but feel a touch of regret. Those gathered around the table at that moment represe
nted her only known living relatives. “So maybe I have cousins somewhere.” She shrugged. “I doubt I’ll ever know.”

  Cara’s phone began to ring in her pocket. She took it out and looked at the unfamiliar number.

  “This is Cara McCann.”

  “Cara, good morning. It’s Joe Domanski. I hope it’s not too early to call.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m here at the theater waiting for the electrician, and just realized I don’t have a key.”

  “If you’d let me know, I could have met you there.”

  “I just got the call from the electrician that he was free about fifteen minutes ago. If I’d known earlier, I would have told you.”

  “I’ll be down in five minutes, ten at the most.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  “Joe’s at the theater. He’s going to be showing the electrician through the building this morning, but he doesn’t have a key.” She stood and asked, “Anyone want to come with me while I run the key down there?”

  “I’m sure he’d rather see you than either of us,” Des told her. “Besides, I have a meeting with the bank this morning to sign the signature card for the checking account.”

  “Allie?”

  “Don’t look at me. I’m going to try to find a nail salon to fix this broken nail.” Allie held up her left index finger.

  Cara rolled her eyes and rinsed out her mug.

  “Barney, is there a spare key that we could give Joe?” she asked.

  “No, but you could have one made down at the hardware store. It’s in the middle of the block across from the Good Bye,” Barney told her.

  “I’ll do that. That way, he won’t have to call me whenever he wants to show someone something.” Cara started for the door.

  “He’ll just find another excuse,” Des teased. When Cara made a face, Des laughed. “You just remember where you heard it first.”

  When Cara arrived at the theater, Joe and a man who looked to be in his fifties were standing out near the curb talking.

  “Here she is,” she heard Joe say. To her, he said, “Thanks for coming out so early.”

  “No problem. I’m an early riser.” Cara gestured to the door. “Glad you got the boards down.”

  “Thought it’d save some time.” Joe pointed to the man standing next to him. “Say hello to Mack Williams. Best electrical man in three counties. Mack, meet Cara.”

  “It’s five counties, not that I’m keeping track.” Mack smiled and extended a beefy hand in Cara’s direction. His hair was silvery gray and long enough to pull back into a ponytail. He wore jeans and a navy tee and carried a clipboard. “So you’re Fritz’s girl.”

  “One of them, yes.” She shook the proffered hand and then let it drop.

  “How many are there?”

  “There are three of us.” Cara smiled. “That I know of.”

  “You’re one of Nora’s girls, then.”

  “No, that would be my half sisters.”

  Mack looked confused, so Cara went for the short answer. “My dad was married after Nora passed away.”

  “I remember when she passed. Hadn’t heard he remarried. But nice to meet you, all the same.”

  Joe gestured for Cara to unlock the door.

  “Barney said they make keys at the hardware store.” Cara unlocked the door. “I’ll stop there and have one made for you. That way you . . .”

  “. . . don’t have to bother you every time I want to show someone around.” He finished the sentence for her as he turned the red Philadelphia Phillies cap backward on his head. His hair spilled across his forehead and there was no looking away from those crystal-blue eyes. The man even had dimples.

  Allie and Des were right. The guy was hot. As much as she tried to forget, when she’d walked into the gas station that first night, for a moment, all she saw was Joe. Of course, that was right before he made her feel like an idiot, and his personal stock had fallen big-time. Now, though, with those blue eyes focused on her, his appeal was hard to ignore.

  “I was going to say, you wouldn’t have to depend on me to open it for you. You’re doing us a favor.”

  “Anything for Barney.” Joe moved the board to one side so that they could enter the building. “I think you might want to replace the locks for now. In the future, a good security system will be necessary, but for now, the locks and the board-up will do.”

  “Good point,” she agreed.

  “Mind if I go on in?” Mack stood behind them, a large flashlight in his hand.

  “Right behind you, buddy.” Joe stepped out of the way to let Mack pass. He, too, carried a large light. “You coming, Cara?”

  “Sure.”

  “Where’s the electrical panel?” she heard Mack ask.

  “I’m guessing in the basement,” Joe told him.

  The two men walked quickly, and Cara hustled to keep up, following the streams of light. The last thing she wanted was to be left behind in the cold, dark building.

  “Which way to the basement?” Mack asked.

  “There’s a hallway off to the left behind those arches,” Cara said. “The steps are at the end of the hall.”

  “Makes sense,” Mack replied.

  “Cara, you still with us?” Joe stopped and turned, and Cara, close behind, walked into his back.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t see you, just the light.”

  She was close enough to smell whatever soap he’d used that morning, and it occurred to her that it was a good thing she’d showered after her morning run. Not that it mattered, but still . . .

  “Here. Go ahead of me.” Joe took her arm and, with one hand on the small of her back, guided her so that she was between the two men. “Just keep your eyes on the light and you should be fine.”

  The light from Joe’s flashlight began to flicker.

  “Let me guess. When you were a kid, your idea of a good time at parties was freaking out the girls by turning off the lights and making scary sounds, like in one of those creepy movies.”

  Joe laughed. “Sorry. I hit the switch by accident. Mack, you find anything yet?” he called to the electrician, who’d gone on ahead by several steps and was shining his light against the wall.

  “Yup. Got the panel right here. Give me a minute. . . .” Mack’s light was now trained brightly on the electrical panel. “Huh. What do you know about that? Huh.”

  “That was two ‘huhs,’ ” Joe said. “Which means . . . what?”

  “Means it looks like this thing has been updated a lot more recently than I would’ve expected. No more than fifteen, twenty years.”

  “You mean the wiring isn’t that old?” Cara went to take a closer look.

  “Well, some of it, at least. Much as I can see,” Mack told her. “Look here. You got circuit breakers.”

  “How could that be?” Joe leaned closer to take a look. In doing so, he was so close to Cara’s back he was almost leaning on her.

  “Beats me.” Mack scratched the back of his head. “I expected to find all knob and tube. You know”—he turned to Cara—“the stuff you find in old houses. But this has been updated.”

  “All? You mean the entire building?” Cara couldn’t believe they’d be that lucky.

  “Can’t say for sure about that. I’ll still have to go through the place. Could have more than one box. Nothing would surprise me now, not after seeing this.”

  “Uncle Pete did say something about someone having bought the building about twenty years ago who was going to renovate it. But he ran out of money and didn’t finish what he started. Eventually, my dad bought it back.”

  “I can give Tommy Mercer a call.” Mack closed the panel door. “He was the main man when it came to electrical work around here, up till he retired about seven years ago. I can’t imagine anyone else would’ve been called in to do the work. He’ll know the story.”

  Mack started back toward the steps, Cara and Joe following close behind.

  Cara walked between the two lights, follo
wing the path they made ahead of her. Once outside, she turned to Joe.

  “As soon as Mack gets the electricity up and running, I’ll want the exterminator to come in.”

  “We only have one guy locally, Eddie Waldon. Barney knows him real well. He’s really good at what he does.” Joe walked with her to her car. “I’ll give you a call after I hear what Tommy Mercer has to say. Then maybe Mack can go back through and write up an estimate. I have to warn you, though: Even if most of the knob and tube has been replaced, it’s still going to be a big number. You have all the lighting in there that might need to be updated. Spotlights. Floodlights. Footlights. The overhead lights. That chandelier in the lobby is something else.”

  “I get it,” Cara said. “We’re not expecting a quick fix.”

  “Good. I’d hate for you to be disappointed.” He took off the baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair. A section flopped onto his forehead, and he tried unsuccessfully to push it back where it belonged. It made him look almost boyish, which she had to admit some might consider adorable.

  She took the car keys from her bag. “I’ll stop at the hardware store and get that key made for you.”

  “I’m going there anyway to pick up something for a job. Why don’t I have the new one made and I’ll drop off yours at the house later?”

  “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.” She handed him the key.