Another Wednesday had rolled around, but even if Stu had hit the coffee place again for the specials, George hadn’t. He’d missed his chance, and the day was over. Dark had come early with the rain. He’d already sent Mel home, locked up, and closed out the register. He dimmed the main lights, leaving his merchandise in an artificial twilight, and pondered his plans for the evening.
The storm was a mean one, and it had settled in to stay awhile. Fat raindrops spanked the sidewalk so hard that it sounded like hail. He and Calv had decided they wouldn’t work on the car tonight. It just seemed like a good night to stay home.
He tucked the dog into his jacket, took her out the back door, and ran up the stairs. He was soaking wet by the time they got inside, but he’d spared Daisy the worst of it. She was indignant anyway, shaking herself violently. After he’d fed her, he stood by the window to the balcony and watched the rain.
Ever since he’d seen Stu, he’d been waiting for Mel to say that her brother had called or stopped by. But a week had passed and she’d said nothing about it.
What did he have to lose? The friendship wasn’t exactly flourishing anyway.
George called the number but reached voice mail. “Stu, it’s George,” he said. “Get off your duff and do something before you lose your sister. She’s not working tomorrow so you can’t use her work schedule as an excuse. If you don’t want her around your boys, then keep her away from them, but you’re no longer at a young and impressionable age so I don’t think she’s a bad influence on you.”
He ended the call. It was an abrupt way to end the message, but he didn’t care.
With Daisy’s crunching noises as the backdrop for his thoughts, he booted up his computer so he could research his hunch about Mel. He didn’t have much to go on. Just the atrocious spelling on her job application. The way she’d always loathed school. The problem she’d had in making change for customers.
He typed the words into the search engine: learning disabilities.
Mel’s stomach growled. This wasn’t the way she’d pictured her day off, but she couldn’t think of a polite way to tell Tish it was time for lunch.
For three hours, they’d worked around the house. They’d oiled creaky hinges, unpacked one box of kitchen stuff, and then they’d hung blinds, then curtains, and then pictures, including that ugly old portrait. She didn’t know why Tish would even want it anymore.
Tish set her pink plastic toolbox on the coffee table and turned her head slowly as if she were trying to get the panoramic view of the living room. “A woman isn’t fully dressed without her accessories, and a house is never fully dressed without her window treatments.”
Mel tried to act enthusiastic. “Yeah, they’re pretty.” But curtains and blinds just felt like walls between her and the outdoors. They made her feel trapped.
At least Tish had opened the slats so they didn’t block the view completely. Not that the view was anything special. Just Mrs. Nair’s house.
Tish took a pen and scratched out a couple of lines in her tiny notebook. “It feels great to have so many items crossed off my to-do list. Thanks for your help, Mel.”
“You’re welcome. Now we can eat—” A big silver SUV pulled up in front of the house. Mel squinted to see through the blinds. “Oh boy. That’s my brother.”
“Wonderful! I’m so glad he’s coming to see you.”
“But I don’t know why he’d want to.”
“Because you’re his sister. This is good, Mel. It might be the first step toward working things out.”
“Fat chance. I wonder how he found out I’m here.”
Already moving toward the front door, Tish said, “George knows him, right? Maybe they talked.”
She sounded so excited, but Mel worried that if Stu and George had talked, they would’ve dragged up every bad thing she’d ever done—or every bad thing they thought she’d done. All that old garbage would be fresh in Stu’s mind, and he might spout off in front of Tish. Then Tish would kick her out.
Mel decided she’d better meet him at the street. She put herself between Tish and the door.
Walking around his vehicle, Stu ran a comb through his hair. It didn’t take long. He didn’t have as much hair as he used to. He put the comb in his pocket and made a face at the front yard.
Tish laughed. “Think he’ll volunteer to help with the yard work?”
“Not a chance,” Mel said with her hand on the doorknob. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t want to invite him in?”
“Maybe another time.” Like when the devil and all his demons needed ice skates.
That was the way Grandpa John had always said it, and the memory made her want to cry. Now she’d never be able to hold herself together.
Tish came closer. “I’ll come out and meet him, then.”
“No, don’t bother.” Mel shut the door behind her and ran down the steps. She kept herself focused on the walkway’s big, flat stones and the way their odd shapes fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Once she reached the sidewalk, she let herself look at Stuart.
He was going bald. Definitely. He’d gained some weight too, so he looked older than George even if they were the same age. Stu used to be a teddy bear, grumpy but sweet. Now she only saw the grumpy part.
“Hey, Stu.” She smiled, trying to make it real, but she felt as phony as Amanda.
“Hey.” His face belonged on a middle-aged Ken doll. Plastic. Cold. The opposite of a cuddly teddy bear. Then he looked past her, putting on that car-salesman friendliness. “Hello there. You must be the Tish McComb I’ve heard about.”
Tish and Stu shook hands, but then they only made small talk until he said something about wanting to see Mel on his lunch break but he had to make it snappy. Tish stepped back, grinning like she thought everything was just fine. They said good-bye to each other, and that was that. Tish headed back to the house.
Mel took a big breath and looked up at Stu. “So, where are we going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, we can’t stay here. You wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around the McComb house, would you?”
He frowned like he wasn’t sure she was joking. “I’ve been wondering why you landed here, of all places.”
“Rejects like to hang out together.”
“You’re not a reject. Or at least you wouldn’t be if you would straighten up so people could trust you.”
“George trusts me. He hired me. And he cleared my name, Stu. He figured out why everybody thought I was stealing. From my old jobs, I mean.”
Stu gave her a skeptical squint. “I had coffee with him about a week ago, and he didn’t say anything about clearing your name.”
George hadn’t stuck up for her? That hurt.
“So what?” she said. “Even if he didn’t tell you about it, it’s still true. But where are we going?”
He opened the passenger door. “We’ll think of something.”
She climbed in, and he shut the door. She patted the leather seat and inhaled the new-car smell. It smelled like the showroom at the dealership. Like money and power and pride.
He climbed in, buckled up, and eyed her seat belt while he started the engine. She ignored the hint.
“So, you hungry or anything?” he asked.
Not anymore. “No, thanks.”
“Just want to ride around and talk?”
“Sure. I’ve got lots of time. No money, but lots of time.”
He backed a little ways into Tish’s driveway, nearly tapping bumpers with her Volvo, then pulled out, pointing the SUV toward Main. “So, where have you been? I heard Vegas.”
“I don’t know how that rumor got started. I was in Florida. Orlando, mostly.”
“What did you do there?”
“I worked at a restaurant. A seafood restaurant.”
Stu laughed. “That’s funny. The kid who hates the smell of fish, working at a seafood restaurant.”
She laughed too, glad he’d remembered that about her. “It wasn’t too bad.” Except she was always low man on the totem pole, and she never moved up from bussing tables because she’d admitted she had a hard time counting change.
“Who did you stay with?”
“I was in an apartment. I had some pretty cool roommates.” Some terrible roommates too, but nobody stayed long. “The girl who got me the job lived there, and she gave me a ride if we were working the same shift. I had a bike too, but that wasn’t great when it was raining. Then somebody stole it anyway.”
“Couldn’t afford a car, huh?”
“Nope.” She relaxed a little. It was almost like old times, talking things over with her big brother.
He turned right at Main, heading away from town. “You already blew what you got for my watch?”
So much for a happy reunion. “Who says it was yours? You only cared about how much it was worth, and Grandpa John knew it. He said he was giving it to me because I loved it and you didn’t.”
“Did he put it in writing? That he’d give it to you?”
Mel thought Stu sounded like a spoiled brat. “No. He died without a will, remember?”
“I remember. I sure do. It was a crime, especially after all the times we tried to tell him to get his affairs in order.” He stepped on the accelerator.
“You know what’s a crime? The way this thing slurps up about five bucks’ worth of gas every minute.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, Melanie. Taking the watch was a crime. Grand larceny. It was worth a lot of money.”
“You’re driving a huge, expensive gas hog, but you’ll fuss at me about an old watch? I don’t even have shoes except these because I had to throw my old ones out.” She propped her sneakers up on the fancy dashboard. “These are from a thrift store.”
“You’ve made bad decisions, so you have to live with the consequences. You can turn your life around, though. Find a job. A real job.”
“It’s hard when you don’t have a college degree.”
“What’s stopping you? You can work and go to school at the same time. A lot of people do. And there’s financial help.”
“Like anybody would give me a scholarship.”
“Scholarships aren’t given. They’re earned.”
“Then it’s hopeless.”
“I didn’t pick you up just so you could argue with everything I say.”
“No, you picked me up so you could lecture me like I’m five.”
“Because you still act like a five-year-old.”
Out of her window, green trees rushed by in a blur. Sometimes she wished she could be five again. Back before she’d figured out she was an oops baby. No matter how hard she tried, she could never make her folks proud. They’d never wanted her in the first place. They’d only wanted Stuart, their perfect son.
Rage bubbled up inside her. “Most five-year-olds have better manners than you do, Stuart. You’re a jerk like your father, who isn’t my father anymore, so I guess you’re not my brother anymore either.”
“That’s it. I’ve had it.”
He veered into the turning lane and swung left in front of an oncoming car. Mel slid across the seat, shrieking. A horn blared. She caught a glimpse of a woman at the wheel, her lips moving as she gave them the finger.
Once Mel could breathe again, she realized they were on the long driveway that led to the abandoned barn. “You trying to kill me?” she asked.
“I can’t say I’ve never considered the idea.”
He hung a U in the weeds. It was all so familiar to her now—the barn’s sagging roof, the rusty hulk of an old pickup with no windows. She wanted to smack him for trespassing on her private property. It was amazing, though, how fast they got there, and how fast they were flying away from it now. On foot, it seemed like a five-mile walk from Tish’s house. Driving, it was only a minute or two.
He drove back toward Main with the engine roaring and made a right. “I’d better drop you off and get home.”
Their folks’ house was home to him, then, at least for a while. Lucky Stu. If he showed up in time for lunch, nobody would tell him to get lost.
Mel swallowed and stared straight ahead. They’d gather around the table, Stu and Janice and the boys. Nicky and Jamie would grab fruit from the crystal bowl with their grubby hands. Mom would wait on them, hand and foot. Even Janice.
Can I get you some lemonade, Stu? Janice, baby, you want some potato salad?
“Drop me off somewhere, okay?” Her lips were frozen rubber.
“I’ll take you back to the house.” He smirked. “The McComb house, I mean.”
No, she’d scream if she didn’t get out now. “Drop me off here.”
“If you insist.”
He swerved into the parking lot of a vacant bank building and braked so sharply she had to throw her left hand against the dash.
“This okay?”
“Perfect.” She climbed out, sucked in a big breath of fresh air, and stood there holding the door open. “You used to be nice, Stuart. What happened? When did you change?”
“What about you? No, I guess you’ve always been this way.”
“What way?” She held her breath, hoping he would explain.
“Never mind. Sorry. I’m under a lot of stress.” He let out a long sigh and faced the windshield. “There’s something you should know. About the Corvette.”
She felt like a thin sheet flapping on a clothesline in a strong wind. “No,” she whispered. “No.”
“Dad decided to sell it. Before something happens to it and it loses its value.”
“It’s not his,” she said between clenched teeth. “It’s not his car.”
“Sure, technically it’s Mom’s.” He faced her again, his eyes hard. “What difference does it make?”
What difference?
Mel’s throat had closed up. She slammed the door and ran.