A Safe Place to Land

by Dee Ernst

  Amanda immediately ducked her head and turned deep red. Craig, on the other hand, took a deep bow. “Here till Thursday, folks,” he intoned.

  Amanda giggled.

  On cue, Maddie and Larissa came tearing in, saw me, and each grabbed a hand.

  “Come see our room.”

  “We put all the clothes in the new dresser.”

  “And we have pillows.”

  “And the stuffed animals are out.”

  I followed them in, was pushed onto the bed, and they began to show me. Everything. After the first five minutes, Craig came in and handed me my beer.

  He leaned over and whispered. “If you just get up and leave, it will probably take them ten minutes to notice.”

  But I stayed with them. They were fascinating to watch, those two almost identical little people. When they were explaining to me, they spoke slowly and carefully, but to each other, it was as though they had their own language, a combination of verbal shorthand and lightning fast gestures. I finally did stand up and walk out without causing a ripple in their conversation.

  Craig was making macaroni and cheese from scratch. I knew this, not because I’d ever done it myself, but because I could find no other explanation as to why he would be grating a block of cheddar cheese into a steaming pot of white sauce. There were also green beans on the stove. Not canned, but fresh, simmering with some bacon and onion.

  “From scratch?” I asked. “And are those real breadcrumbs?”

  He nodded. “They like the boxed stuff for lunches and snacks, but nothing beats homemade with meatloaf. Right Amanda?”

  Amanda was pouring some sort of batter, chocolate, into a square pan.

  “Brownies?” I asked, moving closer to look.

  She nodded, her face tight. “I used your pan. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind? Are you kidding? For brownies, you could use my grandmother’s china. You guys cook like this all the time?”

  She carefully scraped the bowl clean, then frowned. “Like what?”

  “You know…” I waved my empty beer can. Craig and Amanda looked at me as though I suggested they were in the middle of some ancient Druid ceremony. I’d forgotten that not everyone lived on takeout. “Never mind.” I got another beer.

  I dressed for the occasion. I’d blown out my hair, put on decent jeans and a light cotton sweater, and even smudged a bit of mascara on. After all, Craig looked like he stepped out of an ad for Polo Sport. I felt it was the least I could do.

  I hopped up and sat on the counter, sipping my beer, watching him. “Did you always cook?”

  He nodded. “ I worked in the kitchen in my mom’s place growing up. I enjoy it.”

  “So, you do know about restaurants and bars and business?”

  He shook his head. “No. I know about peeling potatoes and how to tell if food has gone bad. Just because I learned to cook doesn’t mean I can run a restaurant.”

  “It’s just that Sam’s on Main is more than just a restaurant. Off-season, everybody gathers there. It’s…our place, more than any other place on Main Street.”

  “I’m sure that if Glory owned it, nothing would change.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. But Glory would have to get a loan to buy you out. A big one, and one bad summer could close her down.”

  He carefully poured his mac and cheese into a Pyrex dish, grabbed a handful of breadcrumbs in one hand, and sprinkled them over. Then, he put his dish and Amanda’s brownies in the oven and set the timer. “I’m going to sell,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “Look, Sam left me a bit of money, so you don’t have to worry about buying me out right away. I know the appraisal was pretty steep.”

  Steep? It had been straight vertical, all the way up to the sky.

  I cleared my throat. “I was thinking you could take half of the acreage outright, and I could just buy half of the house. That way, I won’t have to sell my kidney to buy you out. Four acres with bay front would be easy for you to sell, or you could build your own place.”

  He looked thoughtful. “I’ll think about that. It’s not a bad idea.”

  Relief flooded through me. Maybe I wouldn’t end up mortgaged to my eyeballs after all.

  “So, he bought this house?” Craig asked. “And the bar? Where did he get all the money?”

  I shook my head. “He never talked about his family. I know he was an only child, and his father was a banker, and his mother came from Boston. I assumed he just inherited it all. When we were married, there was always money for whatever we wanted.” I shrugged. “I was eighteen. I didn’t ask questions, you know?”

  Amanda was sitting back at the table, so quietly I had almost forgotten she was there. I smiled at her. “Want to go out before dinner and look at the water?”

  She jumped up, eyes bright. “Yes, please. And we bought some white paint. Is there a place I can paint my furniture?”

  Craig sniffed. “Not the garage.”

  I shot him a look. “No, not the garage. But there’s enough of an overhang by the laundry room, and there’s a tiny cement spot that would be perfect.”

  We went back outside and walked around the house, into the garden, and out to the water. She was not like her sisters. Every word had to be coaxed out, every response carefully measured. We talked about the fern-in-her-room situation and agreed to separate two ferns as soon as she could get some pretty pots. She told me she liked to cook, too. No, she wasn’t looking forward to a new school. She didn’t like changes, she said.

  We walked back to the house just as the meatloaf and brownies came out, a mixture of smells so comforting and homelike I almost forgot that four strangers were ruining my life.

  Luckily, Methodists weren’t big on formality, and I’d been going to church in jeans and a T-shirt for the past four years. That Sunday, when I walked into the kitchen, Craig was dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt. He was wearing a tie. The girls were in dresses. They looked up expectantly.

  “We left you some scrambled eggs,” Craig said. “And we’d like to take you up on your offer to go to church.”

  Offer to go to church? When had I done that?

  Oh right. Last night before I ran off to my room, leaving Craig and the girls in front of the big-screen. I’d crawled into bed with the latest Harlan Coben and managed to read for almost an hour before falling asleep sitting up, the book still on my lap.

  I smiled and found a plate, served myself some eggs, poured coffee and sat for breakfast.

  “Is the pastor nice?”

  “Do they sing? I like the singing part.”

  “Is there Sunday school? I hate Sunday school.”

  “Larissa,” Craig said sternly.

  Larissa slumped in her chair but looked up at me from under her eyelashes and rolled her eyes.

  “The pastor is very nice, there’s lots of singing, and there are two Sunday school classes. We’ll go down after the service for coffee and muffins, and you can meet some people.”

  I glanced at Amanda, who shrank, just a little, farther back into her chair. Craig looked at his older daughter, and I saw something in his eyes, a flicker of concern.

  “Do you want to stay home?” he asked her softly.

  She shook her head. “No. I want to come.”

  I finished my eggs, excused myself from the table, and went in to change, out of my jeans and into a skirt, realized I hadn’t shaved my legs in at least three weeks and changed into a much longer skirt, finally putting on a cardigan for a finishing touch.

  We arrived early. The last thing I wanted was for them to arrive when the pews were already full and have the entire congregation turn to stare as they walked in. Our pastor, Carole Wilkerson, welcomed them from the pulpit, and afterward we went down into the basement and had hot coffee and homemade muffins and banana bread.

  I stood to the side with Terri and watched. The twins managed to speak to every single person there. Craig was attentive and even almost smiled a couple of times
. Amanda stood very close to him, not speaking, occasionally smiling shyly.

  “I got him to smile,” I told Terri.

  “Oh, good.”

  “He cooks. I had the best meatloaf of my life last night.”

  She looked sideways at me. “Oh?”

  “He said it was a mixture of beef and pork, and he sautéed the onion before mixing them in. It was so moist I didn’t need ketchup. And homemade mac and cheese. Three cheeses, he told me. Almost as good as DeeDee’s. He does his own laundry and he reads.”

  “Are you putting together his Tinder profile?”

  “No. Just, you know, keeping you in the loop.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t know there was a loop.”

  “Well, there is now.”

  “You’re wearing a skirt.”

  “I know. Well, look at them, all dressed up like real churchgoers. I felt like I had to step it up a little.”

  “Yes. He cleans up well.”

  “He’s always dressed nice. I don’t think he ever gets dirty. Or messy.”

  Terri made a small noise. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

  I shook my head, slowly, watching him. “No, it’s not that. He’s just so tightly wound. I wonder what he’d be like if he just loosened up a little.”

  “Well, it looks like Monica is trying to loosen him up right now.”

  She was right. Monica Waltz, new to town from Richmond, touched his arm so many times I was surprised she didn’t just take a big old hand stamp and mark “He’s Mine” on his forehead.

  “Looks like she’s trying pretty hard,” I said.

  “They all are. So, Chris is coming down next week to look at that house.”

  “Terri, are you serious? My gosh, just for Steve McCann?”

  She was watching Craig. His back was toward us so we could see the faces of all the women hovering around him. “It’s better than finding out what church he goes to and getting in line.”

  She had a point.

  “Do you like him?” She asked.

  “I’m not sure. Now that I’ve met him, I don’t hate the very fact of his existence, so that’s good. He’s guarded. Not big on talking.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You really haven’t spent much time with men lately, have you? Do you think he likes you?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  I shrugged. “Just a feeling. We should really sit down and hash this out, but like I said, he’s not much of a talker.”

  “God, is that Olivia? I didn’t know she belonged. I thought she went to the Lutheran Church, down in Capeville.”

  “She probably spent all morning cruising all the church parking lots, looking for an out-of-state license plate.”

  Terri choked back a laugh. Olivia, gushing over Craig, caught my eye. I waved. She looked away, back to Craig, her red mouth smiling, showing very white teeth.

  Amanda turned around, saw me, and stuck her finger down her throat, making a gagging motion. She then turned back to Olivia, her hands folded behind her back.

  I felt a rush of happiness, as though Amanda and I had suddenly bonded over something very special.

  “At least his daughter knows what’s going on,” Terri said.

  “He saw me naked,” I said.

  Terri grabbed my arm. “What?”

  “Well, I had on panties. You know how I wander around the house with no clothes on.”

  “Were you at least wearing a bra?”

  I shot her a look. “I haven’t worn a bra in years, Terri. Have you seen my boobs lately?”

  She sighed. “I always kind of envied you for that,” she said. Terri was quite shapely, and her breasts needed their own zip code. “I sag so much these days I may start looking for whalebone corsets.” She nudged me. “You need to go rescue that man.”

  “I guess.” I walked up behind Craig and tapped him on the shoulder. “Ready to head out?”

  His eyes lit up, and I got another smile, this one of pure gratitude. “Oh, yes.” He called the twins, who scampered over, smiling and chattering. Amanda stayed close to Craig’s side and we went upstairs. I glanced back. Olivia Kopecknie was staring at me so hard I thought her eyeballs would fall out.

  I waved at her again and went out the door.

  Chapter Six

  I explained to Craig that I left for work every morning by five thirty, and that I wouldn’t be back until after eight. The dogs used the doggy door to get in and out, and they were used to waiting for their supper. I didn’t know what to expect when I got home that Monday. Would the dogs remember that Craig and his daughters were friends? Or would I find them all trapped in the Suburban as I had just five days before?

  When I pulled up in front of the house, they didn’t even bark.

  As I walked through the door, Finn raised his head and wagged his tail. Chloe got up, came over for a quick sniff, then went back to her usual spot by the fireplace. Bit didn’t even get off Amanda’s lap.

  They were all in the living room. Craig was reading, Amanda was scratching Bit behind the ears, and Maddie and Larissa were on the floor in front of the coffee table, industriously writing in workbooks. They looked comfortable. They looked like they belonged there. I didn’t know if I felt happy about that or annoyed.

  “Good first day of school?” I asked.

  “We’re in the same classroom.”

  “We’re probably going to have to wear name tags forever.”

  “Mrs. Keller is really nice.”

  “The playground here is cool.”

  “The boys are not very cute.”

  “Lunch was terrible. I hate ravioli.”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand. “How can you hate the ravioli in the school cafeteria? That seems impossible.”

  “It was gross.”

  “And they served lettuce with pink dressing.”

  “But the cookie was good.”

  “Yes! Excellent cookie.”

  “Amanda?” I asked. She looked up. “How was your day?”

  She shrugged. “That lady’s son? The one from the store? He sat with me at lunch so that was good.”

  “Her grandson. Tyrell. He’s a nice boy.”

  She shrugged again. “Yes.”

  I had my Wendy’s takeout bag in my hand. I held it up. “I’m going to eat my dinner, guys. Later.”

  I went into the kitchen. It was cleaner than it had been that morning, and here was a plate on the counter. A plate containing a chicken leg and thigh, some roasted potatoes and sliced carrots.

  “We saved you dinner,” Craig said. “I didn’t realize you’d bring your own.” He picked up the plate and put in in the refrigerator. “It won’t go to waste.”

  “Oh.” I set my bag down, the smell of cheeseburger and cooling French fries filling the room. “That’s…wow. That was so nice of you, Craig. I just didn’t think—”

  “Of course not.” He was standing there, obviously waiting for me to…what?

  I sat at the table and pulled out my wrapped burger. “How did it go with Glory today?”

  He sat across from me. “We’re hiring people, and I’ll be there days during the week. I’ll take nights on the weekends.”

  “That sounds reasonable. It’s going to get very busy there very soon.”

  “Yes. She told me. Here’s the thing.” He cleared his throat and folded his hands in front of him. “I have a huge favor. Amanda is fine about watching the girls, but this is a new place, and we’re kind of…isolated, and I know she’s not feeling very comfortable about that. So the obvious solution is to stay up in Sam’s old apartment Friday and Saturday nights, so the girls will be close and Amanda will feel safe. But, well, can you come with me? To clear out the apartment?”

  Sam’s apartment.

  It was two small rooms over the original bar. About five years ago I finally talked him into a little renovation, so the bathroom stopped being a health department nightmare, and the window in the back didn�
�t leak every time it rained. I hadn’t thought about it being empty, having to be cleaned out, but it made sense. And it was a good idea to let the girls stay up there if Craig was working nights.

  I took a bite of my burger and a sip of sweet tea.

  There were so many memories there. That was his place, where all the special things in his life were kept, carefully, almost like a shrine. His bookshelf held awards from the Chamber of Commerce in addition to his collection of hardcover and paperback books. The walls were lined with framed photos and articles about him and the restaurant. Then there were his first editions, almost fifty prized volumes, collected over the years and kept in a glass-front cabinet.

  And his bed, crowded into a corner. There were memories there, too.

  “Sure. We can do it Thursday afternoon. No, I guess morning would be better, while the girls are at school. No problem. We can bring his stuff back here, I guess. Maybe make room in the garage. When you move you can take what you want.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. But are you serious? The garage? Do you have some sort of giant shoehorn somewhere we can use to pack more stuff in there?”

  I looked up. His face was completely neutral, but I saw a twinkle in his eye.

  “You can’t fool me anymore, Craig Ferris. I’ve already figured out there’s a sense of humor there, somewhere.”

  He nodded solemnly. “True that.”

  It was after my dinner was done, the paper bag crumpled and thrown away that I went out, calling the dogs, for our evening walk. I loved this time outside with them, hearing their shuffling in the grass, the water lapping against the stones of the seawall, and the moonlight gleaming on the water.

  “Jenna.”

  I nearly jumped a foot. What was he, some sort of ninja? I turned so fast I almost tripped over myself and I stumbled.

  His arm went out immediately and he caught me, and when I straightened up, we were so close that, if I had any boobs to speak of, they’d be poking him right in the chest.