Walking out of the parts store with Calv on Sunday afternoon, George shook his head, recalling a snatch of a dream he’d had when he drifted off to sleep in church. In his dream, Tish had been preaching, and she was mad as heck about something.
Then he’d snapped out of it, waking in a church that didn’t allow lady preachers. He’d found himself wishing mightily that it did. Tish would wake up a few people.
Returning to reality, he peered into the brown paper sack and shook his head. “I can’t believe one little gizmo cost me forty bucks.”
Calv snorted. “Your shorts too tight? You’ve been grouchy all day. No, all week. Ever since Tish took the watch to Dunc.”
Had it been a week? Yes. Eight days, actually. Tish had stormed Dunc’s office on a Saturday. A week ago yesterday. Meanwhile, Stu and his family had moved back to their own house. When George told Mel, she’d said she didn’t care if they moved to the North Pole. They weren’t her family anymore.
She had worked four days over the past week. Her job skills were improving, and she’d started to master the art of making cheerful chitchat with even the most obnoxious customers. But when things got slow, she hardly said a word.
Calv squinted into the sunshine. “Speak of the devil. Two of ’em.”
Dunc and Stu ambled across the parking lot, their heads bent together, heading toward a silver SUV parked only a few spaces away from George’s van. That was convenient.
“Good afternoon,” George said when they were too close to ignore him.
Stu mumbled some kind of greeting—he’d never responded to George’s voice mail—and Dunc nodded but didn’t speak.
George’s temper began to wake up. “May I have a word with you, Dunc?”
“Sure. Fire away.”
George stopped a few feet from them and put his hands on his hips, the paper bag probably detracting from what he’d hoped would be a gunslinger stance. “Why do you act like Mel isn’t part of the family anymore?”
“If she wants to play by the rules, I’ll let her back in the game.”
Calv dropped a heavy hand on George’s shoulder. “This ain’t goin’ anywhere good,” he said quietly. “Leave it.”
Still feeling Calv’s crushing grip, George moved closer to Dunc. “I understand you’re shutting her out even after she’s tried to make amends.”
“I told her already that I want an apology, but the little coward couldn’t even face me in person. She had to send Letitia McComb, of all people, to apologize for her. To do her dirty work.” Dunc shook his finger in George’s face. “Keep that woman out of my hair, Zorbas.”
George laughed. “I don’t try to tell Tish what to do. But what’s the big idea? You used to say you wouldn’t welcome Mel home until she’d returned the watch. Now she’s still not welcome after she’s returned it?”
Stu’s head jerked up. “She did? She never sold it?”
“She had it all this time,” George said. “She gave it back, via Tish.”
A storm stirred in Stu’s eyes, usually so drowsy. “It was supposed to be my watch. When did this happen, Dad?”
“Over a week ago,” George put in quickly.
Stu stared at his father. “Dad? You somehow forgot to tell me?”
“Relax,” Dunc said. “I would’ve given it to you.”
Stu hit a remote to unlock his vehicle, and both Hamiltons climbed in. He reversed the vehicle so quickly that neither of them could have buckled up yet. Exiting the lot, he cornered that big SUV as hard as if it were the Firebird he’d driven in high school.
Calv let out a low whistle. “Somethin’ tells me Stu and his old man are having a highly entertaining discussion about the ownership of that watch.”
“I hope Stu’s giving him an earful.”
Calv laughed softly. “Has Stu ever given anybody an earful?”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
But the real problem was that Stu, like his old man, seemed to value the watch more highly than he valued Mel.
It was a typical bad-news Monday. None of Tish’s job leads had panned out lately. Trying to put a positive spin on it, she remembered her dad’s favorite quotation from Thomas Edison: “I have not failed, not once. I’ve discovered ten thousand ways that don’t work.” But she wasn’t sure her dad had the wording exactly right, and Edison had been talking about inventions, anyway. Not job hunting.
“I have not failed, not once,” she told Mel, sitting behind her at the kitchen table. “I’ve just discovered a whole mess o’ jobs that won’t work for me.”
“You’re almost starting to sound like a southerner,” Mel said. “Pretty soon you’ll start saying ‘y’all’ instead of ‘you guys.’ ”
Tish forced a laugh. “Maybe, but I refuse to say ‘all y’all’ or ‘who-all.’ ”
Mel didn’t answer, fortunately, because Tish couldn’t have come up with another quip.
On top of everything else, now she’d burned the grilled cheese. She wanted to cry, but with Mel setting such a fine example of maturity and fortitude in spite of her family’s issues, minor issues needed to remain that. Minor.
Tish swallowed hard, manufactured a smile, and turned from the stove with the plates in her hands. “Sorry.” She slid Mel’s plate across the table with the least burnt sandwich and kept the blacker one for herself. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you want to scrape the burnt part into the trash.”
“No, it’s fine. I like things crispy.” Mel gave her a thoughtful look. “You had a bad day, huh?”
A terrible day. “I’m never late for anything, not even a dentist appointment. Never. I always allow myself plenty of time, but everything went wrong. I was five minutes late.”
“Five minutes? That’s not bad.”
“For an interview, it’s terrible. Then I was flustered and I botched the interview. The woman pretended to love me, but I could see right through it.”
“Yeah. I wish people would be honest. If they love you, they should show it. If they don’t love you, they should show that too, instead of faking the love.” Mel nibbled at the darkest corner of her sandwich. “Yum. Toasty.”
Tish smiled. “I think you’re faking your love for that burnt sandwich.”
“No, I’m not faking it. I like burnt popcorn too. I’m weird that way.”
Tish took a brave bite of her sandwich and wanted to spit it out. It was far beyond toasty, but she made herself eat it.
Out at the garage, Calv revved up the Chevelle’s engine. “Sounds like a NASCAR garage out there,” she said. “Calv has been working on that thing all day.”
“Yeah, George is taking it to some kind of car show over the weekend, and Calv wants to make sure it won’t fall apart on him.”
“I heard about that,” Tish said.
It made no sense, the way her throat closed up as if she were about to start crying. They weren’t even talking about her job hunt anyway. They were talking about a stupid car.
“Don’t be sad,” Mel said gently. “I’m sorry about your interview, but something will come up. Hey, you should do some networking, you know? Join some clubs or something. A singles group or a dance class or whatever. Maybe you’ll connect with somebody who’s looking to hire somebody, and you’ll have some fun too.”
Tish breathed deeply and collected herself. “That’s not a bad plan, as long as it isn’t expensive. There must be a community college around here somewhere. Sometimes they offer interesting classes, cheap.”
“There’s one in Muldro. I checked it out after high school, but then I went to Florida instead.”
“You could still look into it.”
“Except I don’t have a way to get to Muldro. Not yet, anyway, but at least I have a job. That’s a start.”
“It’s definitely a start.”
“There’s even bingo,” Mel said suddenly. “For networking, I mean. At the VFW hall. My grandpa used to go.”
Tish smiled at the idea of networking for jobs among bingo-playing senior citizens. “Your grandpa had enough money to own a classic Corvette, but he’d play bingo at the VFW hall?”
“Yeah, he was funny. He lived in a dumpy little house and drove an ugly little truck and raised half his own food like he was poor, but he took the ’Vette out a couple of times a week and never griped about putting gas in it. We’d sing along with the radio and play the alphabet game. You know the one I mean, with billboards and stuff? You always have to look for a Dairy Queen for the Q and I forget what for the Z, and it’s almost impossible to find an X. Especially if you’re not a fast reader.”
“I remember playing that game with my mom,” Tish said. “Your grandpa sounds like he was a lot of fun.” He was crazy too, to let his teenage granddaughter drive his hugely expensive car with only a learner’s permit.
“He was a ton of fun.” Mel blinked and looked at her. “A garden club!”
Startled by the non sequitur, Tish shook her head. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“The networking thing. You want to learn about southern plants anyway, right? Why don’t you look for a garden club? There’s a little local paper that has a calendar section for things like that. George has a stack on the counter. They’re free.”
“I could check it out.”
“You should. It would be good for you to get out of the house.”
“You’re right, and that’s a good quality in you.”
Those big brown eyes got bigger. “What is?”
“You’re going through a tough time, but you’re still interested in other people. You still care about other people. Some people only care about themselves.”
“Oh.” Mel wiggled a little in her chair, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. With downcast eyes, she arranged the potato chips on her plate from smallest to largest, then picked up the tiniest one and ate it. “Grandpa John was like that,” she said softly. “He cared about people.”
“Then he would be proud of you. Love God and love your neighbor. That’s the whole thing, right there.”
Mel didn’t answer, but her lower lip trembled. She picked up another tiny chip and ate it, keeping her eyes on her plate.