Second Chance Spring

by Delancey Stewart

  “Of course,” Antoine said. “Cormac and I were just heading out to the bar.”

  “Uh,” I said, confused by almost everything that was happening and definitely thrown off my game by the angry grizzly bear staring at me from the corner. “Maybe we can just sit down in your office and cover the questions I’ve got?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Antoine said.

  Was I being silly? I did not feel silly in the least.

  “Boss, the specimen is a bit, uh … combative.”

  “Sure, sure,” Antoine said. “Allen, Dirk, help John with the specimen he has in the car. Just let me and Cormac head on out first.” He turned to me. “We go. We talk numbers at the bar. You follow me in your car.”

  I felt like I had little choice, and as I headed back to my car, pulling out to follow Antoine’s sedan from the gravel lot, I looked in my rear-view mirror to see all three burly taxidermists heading for the back of a black Suburban with dark-tinted windows. What the hell was really going on here?

  “Drink!” Antoine suggested, waving a hand at the three shots of vodka he’d had the bartender deposit in front of me.

  “Technically, I’m working,” I reminded my client. “So, uh, I better not.”

  “You have good vodka, and then we talk.”

  I frowned at him, and did one shot. “Only one,” I said.

  He made a face at me, then muttered something I suspected was, “Like woman.”

  I ignored this and pulled the folder from my briefcase, opening it on the table between us. “So the real issue we have is the expenses you’re claiming here for foreign travel. We just have to be able to account for the time spent on these trips and demonstrate that they were business related, so all the expenses you’re claiming can be deducted.”

  Antoine sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, these were business trips.”

  “Understood, but you’ve given me no proof of this.”

  “I have to prove myself to you? I pay you, Cormac.” This was said in a friendly tone, but there was a bit of an edge to his voice as he downed another shot.

  “Well, if you want me to file your taxes for you, yes. I’ll have to offer proof to the IRS.” I shook my head lightly. This was not the kind of client engagement I’d imagined when I’d decided to focus on tax law. I’d started out as a corporate attorney, my partner and I had focused on that. When he’d moved away, I had shifted and I was beginning to regret the change. I had thought it would be simpler.

  “Did you see the big deep freeze?” Antoine changed the topic. Again.

  “At your business? Yes. Impressive.” Where was this going?

  “Very large,” he said, nodding. “Big enough for polar bear.”

  “Right, listen—"

  He went on. “I had it special make, you see. Big enough for man.”

  A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. A man? Was he thinking of stuffing a man?

  “Uh …”

  A wide smile covered his face then, and he laughed. “You look so worried,” he said. “Not for you, the freezer,” he assured me. “I just explain that for size idea.”

  “Right, size. Um, are you saying we should be depreciating the deep freeze?” I asked, shuffling to the page where business assets were itemized.

  “No, just making small threat.”

  I dropped the papers and stared up at him.

  “Ha ha, just kidding.”

  I was not equipped to handle this. “Okay, well. Maybe I have what I need here. I can probably finish this from home.”

  “No, you stay for dinner, Cormac.” This was not a question, and suddenly I found myself wondering if taxidermy was just a front for some other operation, and whether I’d survive this encounter.

  “I have little girls,” I said. It was part plea, part explanation for wanting to leave. Maybe he wouldn’t stuff me in the deep freezer if he knew I had children.

  He leaned back, smiling. “They like the animals I send?”

  “They love them,” I said honestly. The girls’ room was a terrifying array of mounted specimens at this point.

  “Good, you do taxes good and I send you more.”

  “I don’t need more, Antoine. I really just need to get—"

  We were interrupted then by another man, younger, but almost exactly like Antoine in build and looks.

  “Da,” the man said, shaking his head at Antoine. “There you are.” He looked to me and smiled in a way that looked sheepish. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

  I didn’t bother trying to hide my mystification.

  “I’m Antoine,” the younger man said. “I have no idea what my father has been telling you, but I apologize anyway.”

  Relief and confusion swirled around the vodka in my stomach. “I was just hoping to get the information I need to file his taxes.”

  “My taxes,” the younger Antoine corrected, taking a seat and shooting his father a harsh look. The older man smiled at me and downed another shot of vodka.

  I blew out a breath and slumped a bit. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

  The younger man spread his hands on the table. “My father is Antoine senior. He gets confused sometimes, thinks he’s still in the old country.”

  “Um. Where is the old country?”

  “Romania. Where he grew up. His father was a taxidermist there, the business has been in the family for years.”

  I felt some modicum of relief at the more logical flow of the younger Antoine’s words. He explained that his grandfather had been part of the mafia back in Romania, and that his father had seen and heard a little too much as a kid, which was why Antoine senior’s mother had brought him here.

  “So you’re not kidnapping people and shoving them in the deep freeze?” I laughed.

  Antoine’s laugh came just a moment too late, and I decided not to ask any more questions I might not like the answers to.

  “We may be pushing the envelope just a little with the exotic animals, I’ll give you that,” Antoine said, leaning in conspiratorially. His father hooted and pounded another shot. “But I have all the paperwork you need to justify the travel expenses, and the IRS shouldn’t be asking exactly what animals we’re stuffing.”

  “No, I guess they wouldn’t.” I thought there were probably other agencies that might be interested in that, but I was definitely going to mind my own business.

  “Meet me at the diner in town tomorrow at ten, and I’ll bring everything you need,” Antoine said. “Dad will not be joining us.” He shot his father a meaningful look and the older man smiled gleefully. “I honestly didn’t know he’d arranged to meet with you. I think he was trying to help. I found the note on his calendar and spoke to the men at the shop. All the same, I’m glad you’re here. It will make this all easier.”

  I shook my head. “But I’ve been dealing with your father all along, haven’t I?”

  Antoine sighed. “I hadn’t realized until just recently how difficult a time he’s been having with … reality.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I did feel sorry for Antoine as he shot his father a sad look.

  “But what’s important is that I’m taking over and I think we can make this all easy.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling better. “Ten tomorrow.” I didn’t relish the thought of another day in Cahoots, but if we wrapped up by noon, I could easily get home by the early evening—in time for the Cherry Blossom Festival, where I knew Paige would be helping her mother and I’d have my last chance to make her consider staying in town.

  Nothing Matters Like Cake

  Paige

  “Cake!” My mother was singing. The week had been long and busy as I made last minute arrangements and packed up the personal items around my house. I hadn’t found a renter yet, but I wasn’t too worried. The festival and cakewalk was the next day, I was almost ready to go, and Mom was in turbo mode.

  “There’s nothing else to think about but cake!” Mom was holding a spatula and standing in the kitchen of the cafe, bowls
of frosting and fondant all around us as she moved from one cake to another.

  “World hunger,” Amber suggested. “The elections. Climate change?”

  “You’re saying,” I pretended mock surprise as I paused in frosting a strawberry cake, “that there are actually other things in the world as important as cake?”

  “Packs of wild dogs, roaming the cities, taking jobs as parking attendants and grocery store clerks,” she went on, getting tangential and obscure in a way that had me almost giggling. “Rabid monkeys?”

  I began to giggle, earning a glare from my mother.

  “Mom, we’re losing it. We’ve been decorating cakes for four hours.”

  Mom looked from the decorated and boxed table to the still naked cake table and declared, “we’ve got at least two more hours. Don’t stop now!”

  I slumped over a bit more on the stool I was perched on, and squeezed a frosting strawberry out on the top of the cake I’d just finished decorating. After dropping little stars of frosting around the base, I declared it done and boxed it up, putting it on the finished table. “Tell me again how we’re getting these all to the school?”

  Mom twirled to face me. “I’ve got about ten folks with big cars lined up to drive, and Tom Allyson is going to come over to help load cakes into cars and take them out.”

  “Hazel’s granddad?” Amber asked, her tone changing a little bit.

  “Yes,” Mom said, and the look she gave my sister told me she understood every tiny inflection in my sister’s tone—Tom’s granddaughter Hazel had been Wiley Blanchard’s high school girlfriend. Amber’s Wiley. Hazel had also been one of Amber’s best friends, but she’d joined the military right out of school, and didn’t keep in touch with either Wiley or Amber. There were some hurt feelings and buried emotions on both sides of that, I thought. “Tom is a nice man—lonely too, I think. He knows what it’s like to have your children leave you for far flung destinations.”

  I turned to face Mom, the late hour and the sugar-infused air starting to get to me. “Was that for me?”

  “Hmmm?” Mom asked breezily, feigning innocence.

  “That little barb about leaving. Was that for me? Or were you talking about Addy?”

  “Addy who?” Mom asked, blinking wide eyes.

  “Funny,” I said. I knew Mom was only partly joking, but I had no intention of going to Baltimore and staying there. “I’ll be home a lot, Mom. Holidays, some weekends. I’ll want to visit Bobo.”

  “Oh, of course, you’ll want to visit your dog,” Mom sniffed.

  “And my family,” I assured her.

  “I hope so,” she said. Then her smile dropped and she gave me a serious look. “I really do, Paige. But more than that, I hope you find what you’re looking for in Baltimore. I feel almost personally responsible that whatever it is wasn’t here in your hometown for you.” She dropped my gaze. “And it’s hard for a mom, you know? To say goodbye to two of her girls and have them so far away.”

  “Hello,” Amber called. “Measly third daughter here. No plans to leave.”

  Mom crossed the little space and wrapped an arm around my sister’s shoulders. “Of course. And I’m so glad.”

  We spent another two hours decorating, just as Mom had predicted, and agreed to meet early the next morning to help load cars with cakes. The next night was the festival, and then I’d be heading to Baltimore.

  It was Friday night, and as I let myself into my little house, I couldn’t help gazing across the street at Cormac’s place. His car had been gone all week, and I’d seen his brother and April coming and going.

  I hated the way my mind and heart continued to linger on whatever had happened between us, twisting it around to examine from all angles as if there was something there I’d missed. Some way I hadn’t gotten in too deep or put myself directly in the path of certain heartbreak.

  But circumstances were exactly what they were. The wheels had been set in motion long before Cormac had gotten a dog and needed help taking care of it. I’d been planning to go to Baltimore for the better part of a year, interviewing and making plans. The idea that I’d shift that planning just because I’d let a far-fetched little dream of someone else’s family wind itself into my heart was ridiculous. And I wasn’t the flighty type. I’d made commitments and plans. I’d see them through.

  I put on my running gear, figuring if nothing else I could offset some of the hundreds of calories of frosting I’d ingested over the course of the afternoon at Mom’s cafe. I said goodbye to Bobo who would not be able to keep up if I really ran, locked the front door behind me, and stuck the key beneath the pot by the door—security, Singletree style … that too would surely change in Baltimore.

  The street was beginning to fall into shadow as the sun set, and the trees bent down over the pavement, branches swaying in the gentle breeze and making me feel as if everything around me was wishing me goodbye. The air was warm moving over my skin, and I tried not to think about how much I’d miss this as I ran. I didn’t want to miss anything. I wanted the next phase of my life to be an adventure, but I was having a distinctly difficult time finding the enthusiasm I’d held when I’d made these plans.

  My body took over as the blood began to pump faster through my veins and my feet found the steady rhythm of my run. Shakira and J.Lo flowed through my earbuds and for a few miles I became pure physicality, letting my worries and ceaselessly turning thoughts fall away. Still, a little ache in my heart persisted, even as the sweat slicked my skin and my mind cleared.

  I had slowed to a jog as I turned back down my own street, and I did my best not to look at every house I passed and think about how it was the last time I’d run by here as a resident, how soon my claims on this street, this life, would be gone. As I got closer to my own house, my gaze roamed where my feet no longer felt welcome, and I saw Cormac’s car in his driveway.

  My heart reached in that direction and I did my best to shut it down—with a little bit of success, until the front door of his house opened and he came outside, with Luke and Taylor on his heels. I slowed to a walk, only two houses away from my own, and watched him open his trunk and remove something—a skunk?—and hand it to Taylor. Then he pulled an overnight bag from the car and closed the door again.

  He turned as I drew near to my own house, and his gaze swept the almost-dark street, landing on me. Heat poured through me, erupting sweat over my cooling skin and making me feel embarrassed, as if I’d been caught eavesdropping or spying. I stopped moving and lifted a hand, unsure exactly what to do, how to behave. God, I was a mess.

  Cormac lifted a hand in response, and my heart leapt in my chest.

  It was a good thing I was leaving, I decided, if I was so hard up that a man waving to me sent me into a hysterical fit. I forced my feet to move, went back inside my house and took a long shower.

  Then I packed all the boxes and bags I’d stuffed with my things into my car, leaving out only my toiletries and my outfit for tomorrow. After the cakewalk, I decided, I’d leave. I couldn’t go on like this, and the best thing would be to start my new life now. As soon as possible.

  Hitting the High Road

  Paige

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving.” Leslie stood in my office door Saturday morning, looking around the small space, which was now devoid of personality.

  “I know,” I said. I felt a little bit guilty about leaving my patients, but Dr. Adams, the young practitioner who’d been working with us two days a week had just gotten her kiddo into daycare and was going to take five days now. “The practice will be okay, though.”

  “The practice will be fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s me I’m worried about.” She leaned her head against the doorway and I moved closer to give her a smile.

  “You’ll be fine too.”

  “Who will I talk to?”

  “Jennifer is a nice person. You guys will become friends.” I thought Jennifer Adams was a very nice person, but she’d been deep in the trenches of new
motherhood since we’d brought her on two years ago.

  Leslie sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not good at diaper chat.”

  “I have a feeling if you give her a chance, Dr. Adams will be happy to talk about other things.”

  “Like salami and sausage? And hot dogs and …” Leslie seemed to draw an uncharacteristic blank, and her face crumpled. “Paige,” she moaned, “who will talk about penises with me?”

  Laughter burst from my mouth and it was a relief—there’d been so much heaviness in the air the past few days as I’d said goodbye to patients and packed up my things to ship to Baltimore. “She has a kid, so I think it’s safe to say she knows a bit about penises.”

  Leslie moaned and threw her arms around me, pulling me in for a tight hug. “You’re going to do great.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing Leslie was coming too. I fought the tears that wanted to gather in my eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Come on, let’s go get festive,” she said. She’d insisted on coming with me the last time I swept through the office to get my things, and now we were going to the festival together—I’d volunteered her to drive some cakes.

  We locked up the office and drove, Leslie following my car, to the café to get the cakes, and then to park at the high school, where the festival was kicking off under the glorious sun. The cakewalk would be inside the gym this afternoon, and the field just outside was packed with vendors and small carnival rides, ponies and puppet shows. At the end of the day, the Cherry Blossom Queen would be crowned, but by then it was often just the high school kids and their families hanging around. The rest of the town came out to eat.

  Inside the gym, Mom was arranging cakes on the long tables up front and Amberlynn was taping numbers to the floor.

  “There you are!” Mom called.

  “We’ve got the last ten cakes,” I told her. “If Leslie’s driving allowed them to survive.”

  Mom looked horrified and frowned at Leslie.

  “She’s kidding,” Leslie said, shooting me the evil eye.