Chapter 2
Sunday, December 1, 2019
Lauren was in a much better frame of mind. Her car had needed a new battery and a tune-up, nothing major. She’d made a few decent sales late on Saturday, enough to give her hope and put the crabby ladies out of her mind. If they came back into the store, which she sincerely doubted, she’d show them the exit again. While her father, his father, and his father prided themselves on excellent customer service, it was her personal belief that the customer was not always right.
She hadn’t discussed the women with her parents last night, not wanting anything to upset her father that evening, as he seemed to be having a good day. Her mother had prepared a pot of vegetarian chili with homemade corn muffins. They’d had a relaxing meal, and when they’d lingered over tea and coffee, her mother had asked her about her sales at the store.
Not wanting to lie, she’d said, “They could have been a bit heftier, but it was so darned cold yesterday, there weren’t a lot of shoppers willing to leave the comfort of their homes.”
As she thought back on the night before, she knew she hadn’t fooled her mother; but her mother, being the kind and graceful woman that she was, hadn’t called attention to the conversation.
She had high hopes for Sunday. After a good night’s rest, she’d adjusted her attitude, and there she was, back at Razzle Dazzle Décor. It was almost 7:00 A.M. Time to open the store.
As soon as she unlocked the door, several tourists entered. They seemed kind and interested in what the store had to offer. Ringing up sale after sale, she had a renewed sense of hope that Razzle Dazzle might just make it after all. When lunchtime approached, she did a mental tally of what they’d taken in and was pleased.
Most of the special-order decorations had been picked up by the customers who placed such orders each year, so she didn’t really count these as new sales, but nonetheless, they were sales. And now every single sale mattered.
Lauren was refolding several tree skirts when the door opened, bringing another burst of cold air inside. She looked over her shoulder, and a smile came to her face. When she saw that it was none other than Brent Ludmore, out of uniform and carrying a brown bag from Ruby’s, her heart lurched. And not in the way Brent probably intended. He wasn’t going to give up easily, she’d give him that.
“Hey, Lauren, thought you could use a bit of lunch,” he said, holding up the brown bag.
She was hungry, so she shot him a genuine smile. “Perfect timing, too. I was about to see what I could rustle up from the fridge.”
Brent was a true hunk, in the traditional sense. Six-foot-two, a perfect two hundred pounds of solid muscle, dark brown eyes, and ink-black hair that he wore short, given his position as Fallen Springs’ sheriff. Lauren wished she felt something other than brotherly friendship toward him, but sadly, she still remembered him as he’d been in preschool and elementary classes, then high school. They were tight. They were close. But what they weren’t and never would be was a couple. Much as Brent tried, it just wasn’t there for her. She truly cared for him, always would, but not in the way he wanted.
He came up behind her, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave. Woodsy, manly. She liked his scent, as it was very comforting. Something like a favorite blanket, something you could always rely on. She’d never voice those thoughts to Brent, but it was what she felt. Comfortable, reliable, no need to be anything but herself around him.
“Hey, I’m a mind reader,” he said.
“We’re a bit slow now. Let me lock the door and put up my ‘out to lunch’ sign. Hang on,” Lauren said, walking to the door, locking it, then hanging her sign. While this wasn’t going to entice new customers, most of those who shopped here frequently knew she’d be back in a flash. “Follow me,” she directed, heading to the office.
In the office, she cleared her desk. Brent opened the bag, and delicious smells wafted throughout the room. “Yum, whatever it is,” Lauren said as she took paper plates and plasticware from the shelf that held her supplies.
“Today’s special. Roast chicken, with potatoes, carrots, and those danged yeast rolls Ruby makes to entice people to kiss their diets good-bye.” He winked at her. “She’s trying to fatten up the entire town, and Louise encourages it. Threw in a couple extra rolls for you, she said to tell you.”
She laughed. “Louise and Ruby always give me extra food. I’m small by genetics, and she just doesn’t get it, but I do love those rolls.”
Brent doled out the luscious food, and Lauren was truly grateful. “You’re a prince for this,” she said between bites.
“Didn’t see you at church this morning. Saw your mom, and she told me you were open today,” he said, letting his words hang in the aromatic air.
“No, I thought I’d give the Black Friday weekend my full attention. Sales haven’t been what I’d like this year.”
Brent stopped eating and took her hand. “You’re going to be okay, right? I mean the store. This place is an institution in Fallen Springs.”
She shook her head. “I hope so. Brick-and-mortar stores are becoming a thing of the past. I’ve asked Dad to consider going online, but you know how he’s totally against change.”
“That surprises me. Your dad’s been a great influence on so many around town; even Ruby’s has an online menu now. Grubhub deliveries, too. Why do you think he’s so against it?” Brent asked.
“He tells me his father, and grandfather, et cetera, et cetera, ran this place quite successfully without the help of some Internet that he can’t even see, and there is no reason he’s going to change his mind.”
“Have you told him you all might need the extra sales to keep the doors open?” Brent asked.
“No, and I haven’t told Mom either, but I suspect she knows since she sees the bank statements every month.” She wasn’t going to tell Brent that she was planning to subsidize the store if needed. That was way too personal.
“So, you’re planning to open on Sundays then?”
“I thought just this weekend, I’d try, but frankly, as you can see, people aren’t beating down the doors. I’m in a bit of a pickle, but I’m sure we’ll make it through another season. We’ve got the unique decorations, and I just don’t . . . well, I do know. Our clientele is local. Our products are made by Carolina’s best artisans. Maybe I should come up with a brochure, something I could mail throughout the state. Place more ads in papers. I don’t think Dad would object to that type of promotion. It’s certainly an idea, but I don’t know if it’s too late to even get that going. It would take several days to get a brochure printed, and, of course, I have to have permission from my artists to do so.” She shook her head. “Seems kind of hopeless when I say it out loud. You have any ideas?” Brent was smart and savvy, plus her dad adored him and had tried to bring them together since as far back as she could remember.
“You want me to talk to him? I’m free this evening. I could stop by.”
If she asked him to do this, would he and her father take this as more than just a friend helping a friend? She’d decided to dip into her own funds, but a few ads placed in some of the state’s local papers wouldn’t hurt.
“I think Dad will be okay with newspaper ads. He’s done it before when he had something unique. I don’t think I have enough time to pull off a brochure, though.”
“You’re avoiding my question, Lauren,” Brent said.
“Oh, well, sure, stop by. It can’t hurt, plus Dad would be thrilled with some male company.”
“What about you?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious, the voice he used when he was in his “are we ever going to get serious?” tone.
This was not the topic she cared to discuss at the moment, but she knew that if she put it off, his feelings would be hurt. What will it take for him to realize that I just don’t feel that way about him? If there were someone she could set him up with, she would, but no one came to mind. She suddenly had an idea. “I always enjoy seeing you, Brent, you know that. We’ve been friends forever.”
“And you don’t want us to be anything more, right?” he asked, his tone hurt.
Crap, she thought. She hated when he put her in this position. “I can’t lie to you, Brent, I care for you, just not in the way you want me to. It would be cruel of me to let you believe otherwise.”
The hangdog look on his face broke her heart a little bit more, as it did each and every time the topic came up.
He sighed, stood, and took their empty plates to the garbage can, dumping them inside. She knew he was trying to regain his composure, laugh this off as nothing more than a guy trying, but it still saddened her. She wished she were able to fall madly in love with him. They would make a lot of people happy if she did. Unfortunately, she would not be one of them.
“Brent, we’ve been over this, and I know how you want me to feel.” She could feel tears welling up, and she didn’t want to cry. Not that day. She had more important issues, but then she reminded herself that his friendship and his feelings were equally important. What to say? “We’re friends now, and that’s all I can give you.”
Should she tell him that she’d actually perused a few online dating sites looking for a date? No, that would be too hurtful.
“And I’ll accept that, Lauren. You know that, but I’m not getting any younger. I thought I’d have a couple of kids by now, you know? A wife, too,” he added, a sad smile softening his features.
She wanted to tell him that if he’d focused his attention elsewhere, he might have achieved his goal already. He’d had girls crawling all over him in high school and pushed them away. She’d gone to college and was sure he’d done some dating, and who knew what more, but in Brent’s mind, he wasn’t going to accept the fact that she wasn’t the one for him. He needed to get her out of his system and move on. She just wished Brent could adopt this attitude. Maybe she would call Madison, her best friend, tonight and see if there was someone she could fix Brent up with—of course, without his knowing she’d been behind the hookup. Another thing to add to her list.
In high school, Madison had always loved a good matchmaking challenge, and she did even now, after she’d married Scott Murphy ten years ago. They had been college sweethearts, and one only had to watch them together to know they were still madly in love.
Wanting to steer the conversation elsewhere, Lauren said, “I think life tosses us in so many directions, it’s impossible to predict where we’ll be tomorrow.” She took a drink of her tea and stood. “Lunchtime is over, that much I do know. It was so sweet of you to think of me,” she added.
Brent nodded. “Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying. So what about tonight, do you want me to stop by the house? I don’t have any plans, unless there’s a bank robbery or something, and we both know the chances of that happening here in Fallen Springs are slim to none.” He smiled.
“Yes, I’ll call Mom. Have dinner with us. I’m sure Dad gets tired of all the female chatter at the table. Seriously, I’d like for you to come over, too.” She really liked his company, but as a friend. “We can play cards if you want,” she added, knowing how much this would please her parents.
“Name the time, and I’ll be there,” he said.
“Sevenish?” She’d have to call her mother and make sure whatever she’d planned for dinner would be enough for Brent, too. He was a big guy and consumed loads of food. If not, she’d stop and grab pizzas on her way home.
“I’ll see you then,” he said, standing aside as she unlocked the door.
“Sounds good,” she replied, forcing enthusiasm into her tone of voice.
When he left, Lauren breathed an actual sigh of relief. There was no way she would lie about her feelings for him. That would be dishonest and unfair to both of them. Brent deserved better, which reminded her she had a couple of phone calls to make.
First, she called her mother. “Hey, I know this is last-minute, but I invited Brent over for dinner and cards if you all are up to it. I wasn’t sure if whatever you’re making will be enough to feed him, too. You know what an appetite the guy has. I can grab a couple of pizzas if you want.”
“Having Brent over is a wonderful idea! Your father is feeling good today, and I’ve made a pot roast with all the fixin’s, so I’ll get busy,” her mother said, her voice filled with joy.
“I told him sevenish. Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’m closing at five, so I’ll be there to help out.”
They said their good-byes, and before Lauren got busy and forgot, she dialed Madison’s number.
“Hi, stranger,” Madison’s cheery voice said. Caller ID canceled out all surprise phone calls these days.
Lauren laughed. “Stranger?”
“I didn’t see you at church this morning, and you haven’t called me in nine days. The way I look at it, that makes you a stranger. ”
They both laughed.
“I’m sorry, I’ve let the store occupy all my time. It’s that time of year once again, and you know how it is,” Lauren said. “I promise to take you to lunch as soon as I can, but I called to ask a favor,” Lauren explained. “Brent was in the store today. Brought us lunch from Ruby’s.”
She gave Madison a couple of seconds to absorb her words.
“And that means what?” Madison asked.
“This sounds so silly at my age, but I was wondering if you knew of anyone who’s available for, you know, a date. For Brent.”
Madison laughed out loud. “Someone other than you, you mean?”
Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. “Exactly. The guy can’t get it through his thick skull that I’m not interested in him, at least not in the way he wants. From what I know, he doesn’t even try to date anyone.”
“He doesn’t.”
“What did he do when I was away in college and living in Florida afterward?”
“Oh, he did some casual dating. But nothing serious that I know of.”
“So, do you have any ideas? Some kind of hookup? Anyone? I’m desperate, Madison. I just can’t break his heart. Every time the topic of a relationship between us comes up, and I tell him I only feel friendship toward him, he gets all sad. And then I feel sorry for him. I don’t want to hurt him. I wish I felt the way he wants me to; heck, my parents would be thrilled if I married the guy and had a couple of his kids, but it’s just not there.”
“Well, there is Barb from the library. I’m not sure if she’s ever even had a date,” Madison said. “She’d probably pee herself if Brent asked her out.”
Again, Lauren giggled. “Madison, that’s mean, and you know it.”
“Why is that mean? She’s single, local, and works at the library. She’s super smart, too,” Madison added.
“I’m serious, here. I don’t really think that Barb is Brent’s type, that’s all.”
“Or you just don’t think she’s all that attractive?” Madison asked.
Lauren blew a loud breath into the phone. “She’s just not his type. I know what you want me to say, and I am not going there,” Lauren added.
“Then I will. She’s two hundred pounds overweight, has an overbite that would rival a horse’s, and it’s common knowledge that she’s smelly.”
More laughter from both of them. “Maybe you should take her under your wing. Give her a few lessons in all things beauty. I’m sure she’d be open to it coming from you.” Madison was a total knockout. Tall and thin, straight black hair with the lightest blue eyes ever, she’d done some part-time modeling in high school and college. If anyone knew a few beauty tricks, it was Madison.
“If I thought she were the slightest bit interested, I would. We both know all she thinks about are books and more books.”
“That’s true, but seriously, I wish he’d find someone. He’s a great guy, beyond good-looking, built like an oak tree. There are so many women who would fall over in their slinky heels if a man like him showed them any attention.”
“You’re just not one of them, right? And who in Fallen Springs, especially this time of year, wears slinky heels?” Madison asked.
“Madison, that’s why I called you. You’re a known matchmaker, so I thought for sure you’d at least have an idea of someone you could fix Brent up with.”
“I am quite the matchmaker, but honestly, I can’t think of anyone single, other than Barb. I’ll think on it, though. I promise. I’ll ask Scott if he knows anyone.”
Her husband was an IT guy for one of the largest gaming companies in the world. He did most of his work from home via the Internet. “How’s that supposed to work? He rarely leaves the house, and when he does, it’s to go to another country.” Lauren stated what Madison already knew.
“Yes, I know, but a few of his gaming buddies come into town now and then. I’ll ask if they have any sisters or ex-wives,” Madison said.
She was serious, Lauren knew. “All right then, but try and steer clear of ex-wives. You know Brent is . . . well, I don’t think he’s the type for seconds, if you know what I mean.”
“Lauren Elise Montgomery! That’s a terrible thing to say. So, I’m to steer clear of widows, too?” Madison asked.
“Oh, stop, you know what I meant. Brent’s just so . . . clean-cut, and . . . wholesome.”
“I’ll set my radar to single, innocent, and virginal women in their late twenties to early thirties with no ties ever and see what I can come up with.”
“Come on, you know what I mean. I just think he deserves someone who has the same values as he does,” Lauren explained. “No one is perfect; I’m not that naïve.”
“True, but at our age, I doubt if there’s someone out there for either of you with a superstellar background,” Madison said. “I’ll poke around and see, but no promises.”
“Thanks, Maddy. I have a lot of faith in you. Now, I have to get busy. I’ve invited Brent over for dinner and cards tonight. I told Mom I’d help her in the kitchen.”
“Wait, wait, wait! You just asked me to fix Brent up with a date, and now you’ve invited him over for dinner?”
“I know, but I felt sorry for him. As I said, we’d just been through our usual song and dance, and I thought it might cheer Dad up. Brent too. He needs a bit of male company, and you know how Dad likes playing cards with Brent. It’s nothing more than that, I can assure you,” Lauren said.
“So you say,” Madison teased.
“Come on; you, of all people, know me. I adore Brent, just not in a romantic sort of way. We’re nothing more than friends, and never will be anything but friends. How many times am I going to have to say that?”
“I know, but I do love teasing you,” Madison replied. “Okay, I need to go. I’ll catch up with you if I locate any worthy, unattached females. And don’t forget you promised me lunch.”
They said their good-byes and promised to stay in touch.
Lauren busied herself in the store, hoping, praying for an after-lunch rush of new customers. She shined, polished, and dusted items that were already sparkling, but she had to stay busy. Standing around would drive her crazy.
As she was about to return to her office to make a cup of tea, a group of teenage girls entered the store. They giggled, and Lauren recognized them as locals.
“Hey, there. If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know.”
“I’m looking for something for my mom. She’s in the hospital, and I thought she could use some cheering up,” said one of the girls, who was wearing a heavy purple sweater over a thin jacket.
“Lee, Charlotte’s mom, adores your store,” said another.
“Thanks. Would I know your mom?” Lauren asked.
“Lee Hessinger,” Charlotte said.
“Yes, of course, I know her. I’m so sorry she’s in the hospital. She adores just about everything we have. Want me to help you choose something?” Lauren asked. She’d gone to high school with Lee, who had married right after graduation. Lauren knew that Lee had a daughter but didn’t realize she was in high school. Time flies, she thought. She could have had a child in high school had she found the right guy. Well, maybe not high school, but elementary school at least.
“Thanks, I’ll look first, and if I don’t see anything, you can help me out, if that’s okay?” Charlotte said.
Lauren got the feeling Charlotte wanted to pick the gift out herself and understood completely. “Of course, it’s okay. I’m here if you need help.” She let the girls wander up and down the aisles while she continued to make sure everything was in its place.
“Excuse me,” one of the girls said, and motioned with her head to Lauren to step into an aisle away from the other two girls.
“I’m Lacey, Char’s friend. She doesn’t have a lot of money, and I have some saved, so if she doesn’t have enough to pay for whatever she buys, would it be okay if I secretly paid the difference? If there is one, I mean. Her mom is really sick and all.”
Tears welled up in Lauren’s eyes. “Of course, but let’s do this. Whatever Charlotte chooses, I’d like for her to allow me to give it to her. Free of charge. As a get-well gift. Since her mother is a good customer, and in the hospital. Do you think that would be okay with Charlotte? And just so you know, I think Charlotte’s very lucky to have such a good friend.” This was so much like her and Madison at that age that, again, she had to fight back the tears.
“You’d really do that?”
“I really would,” Lauren said with a smile so big her cheeks hurt.
This is what Christmas is all about, she thought. Giving, sharing, and caring for those in need.
But, she reminded herself, I have to keep the store up and running, no matter what else I have to do. Still, a little generosity isn’t going to make or break the place, and it feels right.
For the next half hour, the girls perused practically every item in the store. When Charlotte chose a handmade scarf with a matching afghan, it was all she could do to keep from crying. Her mother had knitted that last season with the finest wool, and Lauren had wanted to keep it for herself but knew it would find a good home in the store this year. Silver-and-gold threads sparkled in the late-afternoon sunlight as the girls brought the items to the register. Lauren knew there was no price tag on these two items. She’d held back in hopes that if they didn’t sell, she’d add some cash to the till, and they would be hers. Now, however, she was thrilled they were going to a very special home.
“Mom is so cold all the time, I think this is perfect,” Charlotte said as she placed the items on the counter. “They feel really nice.”
“I think your mom will love these, too. Would you like for me to wrap them, or would you prefer to do that yourself?” Lauren asked, not wanting to assume too much.
“If you could wrap them in pretty paper, I’ll pay extra. Mom loves unwrapping, and, well, we don’t really have any fancy paper at home.”
“This is what we have,” Lauren said, motioning for the girls to follow her to the wrapping area in a small alcove off the office. She’d set up the special wrapping area when she’d returned to Fallen Springs, and was thinking of hiring someone to do the wrapping when they were busy. So far, that someone had turned out to be her, and she found that she actually enjoyed the task.
“Wow, this is awesome,” said the one girl whose name she didn’t yet know. “I’m Kiley,” she added, apparently reading Lauren’s mind.
“Nice to meet you, Kiley. I’m Lauren. Sorry for not introducing myself before.”
“Your parents own the store, right?” Charlotte asked.
“They do, and I work here.” She was really getting a kick out of this trio.
“Before I pick out the wrapping paper, I better make sure I have enough money to pay for this,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t see a price tag.”
Lacey caught Lauren’s eye.
“I’d like to give this to you to give to your mother as a Christmas gift. If you don’t mind. My mother made that last year, and I fell in love with it, but she insisted I bring it to the store to sell. Now I think it’s found the perfect home, if you’ll accept my offer,” Lauren said, again, with tears in her eyes, though this time she didn’t bother trying to hold them back.
“Wow,” Kiley said.
Silvery tears shimmered down Charlotte’s face. “I don’t know what to say.”
Lacey spoke for her friend. “Say ‘yes’ and ‘thank you very much.’ ”
They all laughed, and Lauren couldn’t believe how good she felt, how wonderful it was to give rather than receive. She knew this was not the way to run a business, but at the moment, it was how she chose to operate. “Then let’s get these wrapped so you can get them to your mom as soon as possible. What paper would you like?” Lauren asked.
“The gold, the one with the shimmery stuff, if that’s okay. And maybe a matching ribbon?”
“Absolutely, and a bow, too?” Lauren asked as she began the task of carefully boxing the scarf and afghan. She added silver tissue paper, then sealed it with the store’s logo seal, a sparkly silver snowflake. She wrapped the heavy, gold, shimmery paper around the box, careful to make sure each corner was precisely folded, a perfect crease. When she finished, she added gold ribbon and a glittery-golden bow. She tucked a blank name tag beneath the ribbon. “Give this to your mom, Charlotte, and tell her I said ‘Merry Christmas.’ ”
“You’re the best, Lauren. I know Mom will be so happy with this gift, and warm, too. Is it okay if I tell her you gave this to me?”
Lauren grinned. “I think that can be your secret. You decide what you want to tell Lee. My lips are sealed unless I hear otherwise.”
When the girls finally left, Lauren saw it was after five. She hadn’t had any more customers, and just then, she was perfectly fine with that. Undecided if she would tell her mother what she’d done with the afghan and scarf she’d knitted, she figured that if the topic came up, she would simply tell her the truth. That had always been her way with her parents and friends—at least, it used to be.
She knew she was deceiving them, in a sense, at least as far as the store’s sales went this Black Friday weekend, but she’d call her bank first thing in the morning and have some funds transferred to the store’s checking account. When her mother questioned her about it—as she knew she would, because she examined the monthly bank statements—she’d tell her it was her way of . . . investing in the family business. That had the virtue of being the truth, too.
She rushed around the store, making sure the gas fireplace was turned off, then went to the office and turned the rest of the lights off with the remote she kept on her desk. Only the lights in the front window remained on. She turned the heat down several degrees, knowing she’d be freezing when she returned tomorrow morning, but she’d dress warm.
Jimmy’s had also tuned up her car, and she was grateful when she turned the key and the engine came to life. “Nothing like a purring engine,” she said, her breath visible in the freezing temperature. She checked the digital reading on her car’s panel. Twenty-eight degrees. She felt every bit of it, too, as she waited for the engine to warm up so she could turn the heater on. Once she flipped the switch on to HIGH HEAT, she delighted in the warmth as she directed the vents toward her hands. She’d left the house this morning without gloves. Knowing the temperature was predicted to be well below freezing, she’d try to remember to stuff her gloves in her coat pocket before she left the house in the morning. Along with a note to herself to remember to place a call to Roger Riedel to set up a bank transfer to Razzle Dazzle’s business account.
She drove down the long drive leading up to the house. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was almost 6:00. Unsure how the time had gotten away from her, she hurried inside and was greeted by the sumptuous smell of her mother’s pot roast.
“I’m home,” she called out as she headed upstairs to change. When she’d moved back into her childhood home three years before, she’d returned to her childhood room, and with her mother’s help, they’d redecorated it in cool grays and whites, a décor that a thirty-five-year-old woman was comfortable with. While she appreciated her mother’s keeping her room as it had been, she couldn’t imagine living in her former girlish room after living on her own since she had left for college. They’d packed the memories away, and Lauren had thought at the time that maybe someday she’d share the mementoes with her own daughter. But at the rate she was going, she’d be too old to remember them herself. Smiling at her own silly thoughts, she undressed and took a hot shower. As the water slid down her back, easing the stiffness in her muscles, she felt the tension of the day wash away. She hadn’t washed her hair, but she did re-braid it in a long French braid. She didn’t bother with makeup but added a touch of mascara to her blond lashes.
She put on a pair of soft, faded jeans with a worn Florida Gators sweatshirt and a pair of thick socks. She hadn’t realized how tired she was and, for a moment, wished she hadn’t invited Brent to dinner. But reminding herself how this would make her father’s evening, all traces of “poor me” were wiped away with the thought. Dad spent most of his days in the house, and given his limited mobility, having a visitor was a big deal to him.
Downstairs, Lauren joined her mother in the kitchen. “Yum, I’m starved,” she said as she peered through the oven’s glass door.
“I am too,” said her father as he made his way to the table in the center of the large farmhouse kitchen.
“Hey, Dad, how are you feeling?” Lauren asked as she gathered plates and flatware for the table.
“I’m pretty good today, despite this chilly spell we’re having.” He sat down, and Lauren knew he was in pain from the look on his face.
Once a towering man at six feet, he’d appeared to have lost a bit of height a few months after he’d been diagnosed. His features were still that of a handsome, middle-aged man. Despite his illness, he remained hopeful, and never, at least that she knew of, allowed himself to go into a dark, depressive place. His dark-blond hair still smelled of Prell shampoo, and she knew he still used Mennen After Shave. Smiling to herself, as she thought of these features of her father, her dread of the evening ahead vanished.
“What are we drinking tonight?” Lauren asked her father.
“I’m sticking to the hard stuff,” he said, and pointed to the pitcher of water her mother was bringing to the table.
“Don’t say I can’t read your mind,” her mom told him, then winked at Lauren.
“I know better than to get involved in this conversation,” Lauren said, filling a glass with ice and placing it on the table in front of her father.
They went through a similar routine almost nightly, and Lauren knew this was their way of trying to keep their lives as normal as possible under the circumstances. It broke her heart, yet she was amazed by the strength of character they exhibited by refusing to wallow in self-pity. Her parents were good people. Hardworking and tough. She wished she could just convince her father to step into the future. Another time, she would touch on the subject, but not now. She would stick to her father’s method, place as many ads in newspapers as she could, and hope that they would reach a few new customers before the season was over.
“Lauren, can you get that?”
“What?” Lauren asked, then she heard the doorbell. “Oh, sure.” She’d allowed her mind to drift into the what-ifs again and hadn’t even heard the doorbell.
She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and opened the door. “You’re right on time,” she said, glancing at the clock in the foyer.
“Sevenish is seven, right?” Brent asked.
She laughed. “If I said no, then what? You’re late? Too early?”
“Regardless, I’m here, and I brought this.” He held up a bottle of wine. “Red.”
“Perfect, it’s beef night,” she said, and took the bottle from him. “We’re eating in the kitchen. Family-style,” she said. They always had their meals in the kitchen, except on holidays. Then she and her mother would decorate the formal dining room, and she really enjoyed those occasions. It was akin to playing dress-up, only rather than clothing, they used the many cherished decorations that had been handed down from one generation to the next, plus each year they chose a few pieces from the local artisans and added them to their collection. Lauren enjoyed the prep, and the big finale, the meals that she’d had a hand in preparing.
“Ilene, Al,” Brent said as he entered the kitchen. “Thanks for the invite. It smells awesome.”
Lauren spoke up. “It does. Here, I’ll chill this,” she said, placing the bottle of wine in the bottom section of the new high-tech refrigerator that would cool the wine to a perfect temperature within minutes. She could remember what it had taken to convince her parents that if they had to get a new refrigerator when the old one gave up the ghost, it should be something with the convenient features their old one had lacked. She sometimes thought that, given their own way, they would have settled for a nineteenth-century icebox.
“I’m glad you came, Brent,” her dad said. “These two, well, they are about to step on my last nerve with all the attention I get.” Her father laughed. “Nice to have another man in the picture.” Her dad winked at her. He seemed to forget she wasn’t sixteen anymore.
Brent took four wineglasses from the cupboard, just one more detail that made him feel like family. A brother. “You all okay with a sip of wine?” he asked as he placed a goblet in front of each place setting.
Lauren rolled her eyes. “We’re all of legal age, Sheriff,” she replied.
“Of course you are,” he said. “It wouldn’t help my reputation if word got out that I was serving minors.”
Lauren thought the comment a bit off and decided to go with it. “Is there much underage drinking these days? Here, in the paradise of Fallen Springs,” she added.
After her mother filled bowls with mashed potatoes and green beans, Lauren placed them on the table.
“It’s everywhere, unfortunately, Fallen Springs included. Sadly, it’s not always booze that attracts kids these days. Now we’ve got meth, opioids, pot, you name it. Alcohol is too easy to come by now.”
“Here? In Fallen Springs?” her father asked. “Surely not. We’ve always held our youth to the highest standards.”
Lauren couldn’t believe how old-fashioned he was! He wasn’t even that old himself. His ideas were so antiquated that she wanted to shake some sense into him. Not now. Let Brent tell him what the real world is like, and here in Fallen Springs, too. He would be more likely to listen if it came from Brent.
“Sadly, it’s true. We’ve got a problem, for sure. Not as bad as in the larger cities, such as Charlotte or Raleigh, but it’s still here. It’s not always made public, but I’ve arrested more than my share of addicts who were barely old enough to drive. ”
Lauren took the bottle of wine from the refrigerator and the corkscrew from the drawer next to the sink. She carefully inserted the corkscrew, then slowly released the cork. She probably should have allowed Brent to do the honors since he had brought the wine, but she was too enthralled as she listened to him fill her father in on the life of teenagers in the twenty-first century. Maybe this is just what he needed. A dose of reality. Show him how the world was changing. Sadly, it wasn’t the most upbeat topic, but she was glad. He needed to hear that Fallen Springs wasn’t immune to the ways of the world.
“Then why aren’t we reading about this in the paper?” In print, the Daily Banner was only a weekly publication now, yet they had a daily version online, which her father had no knowledge of since he didn’t have a computer or access to the Internet.
“The arrests are usually reported in the paper if they’re of legal age, but since many of these kids are still minors, we can’t put their names in the paper,” Brent explained.
Lauren poured wine into their glasses, curious to hear her father’s response.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad. We’re a relatively small town. It’s not like New York City or Los Angeles.” Her father’s refusal even to acknowledge the sheriff’s facts was almost borderline crazy. She looked at Brent and raised her eyebrows.
“I have to disagree, Al. We’re not the small-town Fallen Springs of your generation, and I don’t mean to insult you in any way, but it’s simply a fact. We’ve had to add four new officers to our narcotics squad, and I’m hoping next year’s budget allows us to hire more. It’s an epidemic.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad, Brent,” her mother added. “I never saw any drug use when I taught school.”
“You taught second grade, Mother,” Lauren reminded her. “And you’ve been retired for a few years, remember? I’ve heard Madison talk about the drug use in high school. She’s been teaching in the system a while, so I know she’s aware of what goes on.”
Lauren hated this topic for Sunday-night dinner, but it was all true. Her parents couldn’t continue to live in their Mayberry-type bubble.
“I still find it hard to believe,” her father said, then took a sip of wine. “This is excellent, Brent. You do have good taste in wines.”
That was her father’s way of saying, enough. He was going to change the topic of conversation. End of story.
“Thanks. A friend recommended this. It’s from the winery at the Biltmore.” He swirled the dark liquid in his glass, then took a sip. “Good stuff. In moderation.”
Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if the friend was female. She wanted to ask but decided she’d keep her thoughts to herself. She took a small sip. It was okay as far as wines went; she wasn’t much of a drinker, so they all tasted pretty much the same to her.
“Remember the time we took a tour of the winery at Biltmore?” Brent asked her.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I do. I think we thought we’d be allowed to drink wine all day. Being underage hadn’t even been a consideration,” she said, and recalled the weekend in her senior year of high school, when she and Brent, along with Madison and some guy she’d been dating at the time, decided to take the wine tour at the estate and see if they could get drunk for free. They hadn’t even considered that they would be asked for identification.
“Why am I just now hearing about this?” her father asked, a grin on his face.
Her mother placed the platter of sliced pot roast in the center of the table. “Let’s say grace before this gets cold.”
Saved, Lauren thought, and she bowed her head and closed her eyes while her father said the blessing. It was an unwritten rule that he always said grace, and if anyone at the table chose to add something after, he would give them the opportunity. Lauren waited for her mother or Brent to speak, and when they didn’t, she raised her head, and saw Brent staring at her. His gaze said all that he felt. She quickly focused her attention on the food. “Pass those potatoes, I’m starving,” she said.
For the next half hour, as they ate, their conversation centered around the food and her mother’s skill in the kitchen.
“I’ve made a cobbler for dessert. Apple.”
“My favorite,” Brent said.
Lauren knew that, her mother knew that, and so did her father. What was she trying to do? Keep him here all night? Dessert and coffee at the Montgomery house could last until midnight.
“I’ll pass, Mom, but save me a piece for tomorrow. I’m so full now, I’m about to bust.”
“Of course I will. Now”—her mother stood and began gathering the empty plates—“Lauren and I will get this mess cleaned up. Al, get the cards ready.”
Again, Lauren wished she hadn’t added the card invite but decided that she would play a couple of hands, then excuse herself.
Once they’d cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, she brewed a pot of decaf and filled their cups, while her mother served dessert.
For the next hour, they played crazy eights, war, then blackjack. She yawned and decided it was time to call it a night.
“I hate to break up the party, but I’m wiped out.” She stood and gathered the dessert plates and added them to the dishwasher. “I’m calling it a night.”
Brent stood, too. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow myself. Ilene, Al, the food was terrific as usual, the company even better.” His eyes met Lauren’s as he said this. “And I hope we’ll do this again, soon.”
“You know you don’t need an invitation,” her mother reminded him. “We usually have dinner between six and seven.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said. He shook hands with her dad, gave her mom a kiss on the cheek, then looked at Lauren. “You want to walk me to the door?”
No, she thought, but it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of anything Brent asked.
“Sure,” she said, and led him to the foyer. He stood at the door, hands in his pockets, a faraway look on his face.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t try to continue the conversation they’d had at the store earlier.
“Not really. I’m just worried about your dad. He’s stuck in a time warp, and I . . . well, it’s not a good thing.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “I know. He’s so stuck in the past that it’s starting to worry me, more than I let on.”
“Do you think this has anything to do with his illness?” Brent asked.
She gave a wan smile. “No, and if that were the reason, I think I’d be better equipped to deal with this fantasy world he lives in. You know how old-fashioned he is.”
“He is that, for sure. Have you discussed this with anyone, besides your mom?”
Was this Brent’s way of saying her father needed to speak with a professional? She didn’t totally disagree with that assumption, but she felt guilty for even having such thoughts.
“Just you and Madison.”
“He’s in denial, and it concerns me.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not sure, just that he worries me, his lack of belief in what’s going on in the real world. Has he ever been checked for Alzheimer’s? Damn, I hate saying that word, but it’s crossed my mind more than once.”
Lauren truly hadn’t even given that a thought, but now that Brent had raised the possibility, she knew she would have to convince her mother to consider asking their rheumatologist about this, and maybe for a referral to a neurologist.
“I’ll mention it to Mom. He doesn’t seem abnormal—I mean, his memory is excellent,” she said, but he did live in the past, and she knew that was a characteristic of Alzheimer’s disease.
“Good. I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while, but the timing was always bad. I hope you’re not ticked at me for bringing this up.”
“Actually, I’m glad you did. I’ll talk to Mother, see what her thoughts are. She spends more time with him and would know, I assume, if Dad wasn’t . . . right,” she said.
“Okay, I’ll check in with you later in the week,” he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks, Brent,” Lauren said, and closed the door the second he stepped out. The frigid air had gone straight through her, and she couldn’t wait to snuggle beneath the down comforter in her room.
But before calling it a night, she returned to the kitchen, where her parents had started a new game of crazy eights.
Wouldn’t her father’s ability to play a simple game of cards be hampered if he had Alzheimer’s? She wasn’t sure. Tomorrow, she’d go on the Internet and look up the symptoms before bringing up the subject with her mother. She needed to check her e-mail tomorrow anyway.
“I’m calling it a night, folks. I’m beat,” Lauren said, and gave her father a hug and kissed her mother’s rosy-red cheek. “Dinner was excellent as usual, Mom,” she said. “I’ll make dinner tomorrow night, give you the night off, if that’s okay.”
“Yes, of course, it’s fine, Lauren. Anytime you want, this old kitchen is all yours,” her mother said.
“Then I’ll plan on it.”
As she made her way upstairs, thoughts of tomorrow’s dinner plans were replaced by concern about her father. Was it possible he had some physical or even mental disorder that forced him to live in the past? Unsure, she knew she’d have to do whatever it took to find out.