8
Sarah fluffed her sofa pillows and stood back to admire the effect. She had to admit that she was looking forward to having company. If you didn’t count Gran, or her parents, or the other relatives who had been by, Chris would be her first invited guest, and suddenly those faded place mats she’d snagged from her mom’s linen closet just looked tacky. She glanced at the clock on her kitchen stove. She had time to get to San Ramon and back, but the thought of fighting those Saturday afternoon crowds made her shudder. Nope, these would have to do.
It wasn’t till she was setting the table with her ratty place mats that it occurred to her that she might need more than just boneless chicken breast with mushrooms and artichokes to make a meal. A salad would be good, maybe some bread, and something for dessert. She sighed and went to look for her shoes. No getting around it, she was going to San Ramon.
Saturday afternoon shopping was as awful as she thought it would be. She had to circle the parking lot three times before she found a spot to park her car, but even that wasn’t as bad as the crowds inside the superstore. But she persevered, and now back home, showered and wearing the new top she bought, she almost felt the trip had been worth the hassle.
The linen place mats looked terrific with the Fiesta ware, and she was glad she had decided to get the matching napkins and some cute little napkin rings. She even set a candle in the middle of the table—not tapers in candleholders, which would holler “This is a date,” but a nubby glass globe with a votive candle inside. Very midcentury.
When the oven dinged, signaling it had finished preheating, she put the foil-covered casserole on a cookie sheet and popped it in the oven—just as the instructions indicated. Everything was ready for a casual, relaxing, no-biggie evening between buddies. She glanced at the fireplace, wishing again she could have a fire, but since it had been 97 degrees last time she checked, she had settled for candles, a few pillars of varying heights. Even unlit, they gave the fireplace a warm and friendly look.
The only thing left was the iced tea, and Sarah smiled to herself when she brought in the gallon jar of sun tea that had been brewing on her back porch all afternoon. “Hah! Who needs to know how to boil water?”
Chris locked the front door, turned off the neon Dip ’n’ Dine sign, and checked his watch. He had just enough time to finish up here and get home to clean up before going to Sarah’s. She had made it abundantly clear that she saw him as a friend and nothing else, but at this point, a friend would be really good.
“Well, I guess I’ll go on home, unless there’s something else you need.” Juanita, untying her apron, came from the kitchen.
“Nope, we’re good here. See you tomorrow at church.” Chris glanced at his watch again.
“Well, shoot. I forgot to fill the salt and pepper shakers. Maybe I’ll just get here a few minutes early Monday.” She hesitated a moment and Chris was about to agree with her, but she tossed her apron on the back of a chair and reached for a tray. “Oh, I’ll just do it now and get it out of the way.”
“No, no. You’ve already put in a full day. I’ll do it. You go on home.” If Juanita got to talking, something as simple as filling a salt shaker could turn into a real project.
“You’ve had just as long a day as I have, even longer, and this is my job. It won’t take a minute.” She moved briskly from table to table, picking up the shakers, and Chris sneaked another look at his watch.
“Did I tell you I’m going to get another grandbaby?” Juanita stood with the salt in one hand and a shaker in the other. “This will be number six. And I would just love another girl.”
“Congratulations!” Chris gave what he hoped was a sincere-looking smile and fled to the kitchen. Carlos had already started scrubbing the floor and glared at him, but he couldn’t help that. As long as Juanita had someone to talk to, she’d be talking, not working.
“Customers, Chris.” Juanita’s voice carried over the muffled roar of motorcycle engines. “I’ll take care of it.”
Chris looked through the window to see two leather-clad cyclists get off their Harleys. One lifted a child off the back.
“Sorry, folks, we’re closed.” Juanita had unlocked the door and stuck her head out. “If you stay on this road, though, you’ll be in San Ramon in about twenty minutes. Lots of places to eat there.”
As if she hadn’t heard, one of the cyclists took off her helmet, exposing a shock of cherry-red hair, and headed for the door. It took a moment for Chris to recognize her because the last time he saw her, her hair had been black and white, but when she saw him through the window and waved and smiled, he knew it was Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn shoved past Juanita as if she weren’t there, and Chris met her in the middle of the room, sweeping her into a bear hug. Juanita, completely unused to anyone ignoring her, much less knocking her aside, had been turned to slack-jaw stone—an event seldom, if ever, seen in Last Chance.
“Where have you been?” Chris put both his hands on her shoulders and gave a little shake. “We’ve been going nuts worrying about you.”
Kaitlyn grinned up at him. “On the road. We decided the best way to see the country was on bikes, so I sold my car, bought the bike, and here we are.”
Chris looked up. Kaitlyn’s companions, Olivia and a burly guy with a three-day beard, had come in behind her. Olivia was still struggling with a helmet that was so big it made her look like a spindly space alien, but the guy shook out his damp shoulder-length hair and turned to Juanita.
“You guys got any beer? I’m spittin’ dust.”
Juanita sputtered to life. “We most certainly do not. And we are closed. I told you that.”
“It’s okay, Juanita.” Chris dropped to one knee and drew Olivia to him in a hug, gently lifting the helmet from her head. When he stood, Olivia was still clinging to him with her arms and legs like a monkey. “This is my sister, Kaitlyn, and my niece, Olivia, and . . . I don’t believe we’ve met.” He shifted Olivia to his hip and extended his hand to Kaitlyn’s friend.
“Jase. How’s it going?”
“Everything okay, boss?” Carlos stood at the kitchen window taking in the goings-on in the dining room.
Chris turned and smiled. “Everything’s fine, thanks, Carlos. My sister just got here.”
Carlos nodded but never took his eyes off Jase. “Okay then, if you’re sure, I’ll go ahead and take off.”
“See you Monday.” Chris turned back to Juanita. “And you can go too, Juanita. Have a good weekend.”
Juanita did not look at all eager to leave. She glanced at Jase and back to Chris. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“We’re good.” Chris turned his attention to the little girl clinging to him as Juanita left. “Hey, Liverhead! Long time no see.” He gave her another squeeze and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek.
“I told you not to call me Liverhead.”
Jase laughed and Olivia shot him a look that would peel paint.
Chris got the message. “Okay, Livvy it is.” He leaned in to whisper, “For now.”
He turned back to Kaitlyn. “I can’t believe you just took off like that. Have you called Mom? She’s worried sick.”
Kaitlyn’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “Yeah, there were all those phone messages. Oh, wait. They were from you.”
“Mom called. I know she did.”
“Maybe twice. And both times she just yelled. I really wanted to return those calls.”
“Well, I didn’t yell—much. And you didn’t call me either.”
“I wanted to surprise you. Aren’t you surprised?”
“You could call it that.” He looked at Olivia, still perched on his hip, and brushed her damp hair from her eyes. “What were you thinking, putting Livvy on a motorcycle? Do you have any conception of how dangerous that is?”
“She has a helmet.”
“Kaitlyn! She’s what, sixty pounds? And nothing between her and the pavement?”
Kaitlyn’s face fell into the pout he knew so well. “If I’d wanted to get yelled at, I’d have called Mom. I thought you’d be glad to see us.”
Chris took a deep breath to calm down. If Kaitlyn got mad, she was perfectly capable of slapping that helmet back onto Olivia’s head and taking off. He put his free arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. “I am glad to see you. But come on, the back of a motorcycle is no place for a little girl.”
Chris thought he saw a quick glance slide between Kaitlyn and Jase. He put Olivia down. “So what are your plans now? If you’re heading back to Scottsdale, maybe Livvy and I can follow in my Jeep. Give the two of us a chance to catch up. I think they can manage without me here for a day or two.”
“Well, our plans right this minute are about dinner.” Kaitlyn’s smile was back. “We’re starved. Got any ideas?”
Dinner. Sarah was expecting him for dinner. Chris looked at the dusty, sweaty crew standing in his diner. If he sent them away now, even to eat, Olivia was getting back on that motorcycle. He didn’t have a choice; he was going to have to cancel.
“Let’s go to my place. I’ve got some steaks in the freezer. Just give me a minute to make a phone call.” Chris walked through the kitchen and out the back door. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. After all, Sarah had stressed it was a casual, buddy dinner. And she was just heating up something he had put in her freezer. He took out the never-used number Sarah had given him and punched in the numbers.
Sarah took the foil off the casserole so it could brown and savored the aroma that enveloped her kitchen. Salad, fresh from the bag and topped with croutons fresh from the box, stood ready to be tossed with bottled French dressing. She’d pop the foil-wrapped French bread in the oven when Chris arrived, then wow him with the Sara Lee cheesecake after dinner.
“Eat your heart out, Martha Stewart, and meet the new queen of gracious living.” Sarah stood back and admired her efforts. It was too bad all this perfection was only for Chris, but as Gran always said, “start as you intend to continue.” And he was as good as anyone to practice on.
It wasn’t till she went to light the candle on her table and the new pillars arranged in her fireplace that she realized she didn’t have a single match in the house.
Who doesn’t have matches? Sarah grabbed her phone to call her grandmother. Have matches, Gran, and don’t ask why I need them.
“Of course, honey, I have a whole box full. Why do you need matches?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I, uh, bought some candles today, and if I ever want to use them, I’ll need matches. Can I run down and get them now?”
“Certainly.” Elizabeth still sounded a little puzzled. “Or I can just give them to you tomorrow when you pick me up for church.”
“I’ll come get them now. See you in a minute.”
It took Sarah a little longer than she thought it would to get to Elizabeth’s and back. If Gran thought an emergency matches run was a little odd, snatching them out of her hand at the front door and racing home without even taking the time to admire the roses or speak to Sam would likely bring Gran right down the street after her to see what was going on.
She lit the candles in the fireplace and picked up her phone to check the time as she headed for the kitchen. A New Message banner covered the screen—again.
“Just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.” Sarah glared at the phone before she opened a kitchen drawer and shut the phone inside. “This is one party you are not invited to.”
She felt the bubble of anticipation that had been building all afternoon begin to deflate, so she opened the oven to see if another whiff of chicken would kick it up again. Someday soon, she knew, she was going to have to have it out with Brandon, but not yet. She just wasn’t ready. Six months ago, she thought she’d be planning a wedding by now, but at this moment, she wished she never had to speak to him again.
She inhaled the aroma that surrounded her with the puff of hot air that escaped the oven. Go away, Brandon. She took another deep breath. It was working. And in a few minutes, when Chris got here, Brandon would be completely banished.
At 7:30, the timer on the stove indicated the casserole was done, and Sarah took it out and covered it with the foil to keep it warm. At 7:40, she popped the French bread in the oven. Something must have come up at the last minute at the Dip ’n’ Dine, but since Chris hadn’t called, he should be turning up any minute.
At 8:00, with the casserole cool and shrunken, the French bread way past crispy, and the salad looking wilted even without the dressing, Sarah remembered the message she hadn’t looked at. She fished her phone out of the silverware and checked. It was from Chris, of course, and she hit Play Message. This better be good, Reed.
“Hey, this is Chris. Listen, sorry to bail at the last minute like this, but something came up that I really need to take care of. I’ll try to call later to fill you in, but meantime, that chicken ought to keep a day or so, if you want to reschedule. Talk to you soon.”
Okay, so he had called before he was expected, and she had made the choice not to listen to his message. Big deal. If he thought that was going to let him off the hook, even a little bit, for standing her up, he had another think coming. She grabbed a fork, and while still leaning against the counter, dug a bite from the middle of the casserole. Reschedule? In your dreams, Chris Reed.
Chris noticed his neighbors peeking out their windows as the two big Harleys followed him up the dirt road to his house. Olivia, safely belted into the back seat of his Jeep, had been uncharacteristically quiet.
“So, tell me about this great adventure you’ve been on, Livvy. Have you been having fun?”
In the rearview mirror, he saw her shrug as she looked out the side window.
“That’s not much of an answer. What’s going on?”
The size of her exasperated sigh made him smile to himself.
“Well, Mom said we were going to take this great trip and see the Grand Canyon and maybe Disneyland and stuff. But I didn’t know that Jase was coming, and I thought we were going to be in a car. All we do is ride on that motorcycle, and it’s really boring.”
Chris parked in his carport, and the bikes pulled up behind him. He turned around to smile over the seat at Olivia. “What if we talked your mom and Jase into going to see the Grand Canyon and then going home? We’d have to do Disneyland on another trip, though.”
Olivia still did not look very happy. “Would you come?”
“Yep. And you could ride with me. No more motorcycles.”
“Well, this has been a pretty lame trip so far.”
“Then we’ll see what we can do.” Chris got out and opened the back door so Olivia could hop out. The last thing he needed to do right now was to take a few days off to go to the Grand Canyon, but Olivia clearly had her heart set on it. And frankly, Chris thought she had it coming to her.
Kaitlyn laughed when she came through the front door. “Nice place. Who’s your decorator?”
Chris looked around. The room did not bear much resemblance to the home they had grown up in. Their mother had always said that their decor should reflect the quality of the homes they represented, and even the castoffs that filled Kaitlyn’s apartment were of the best quality.
He grinned and shrugged. “Hey, it’s home. So, do you guys want to get cleaned up while I fix us some dinner? Kaitlyn, you and Livvy can use my bathroom, and Jase can take the other one. Dinner in about half an hour?”
Chris was just whisking the vinaigrette for the salad when Olivia came running into the kitchen, comb marks still evident in her wet hair. He was pleased to notice she was in her pajamas. Good. They were at least planning to stay the night. That gave him more time to convince Kaitlyn to give up this crazy motorcycle trip of hers.
“Hey, Liverhead, feel better now?” Chris laughed as Olivia’s face screwed up into a fierce scowl. She shot a look down the hall to see who else might have heard. “Nope. You’re the only one out here. And I promise, as far as anyone else is concerned, you are Olivia. The Royal Princess Olivia, if you prefer.”
Olivia gusted a huge sigh and rolled her eyes. “Just use my name, Uncle Chris. It’s really not that hard.”
“When did you get to be such an old lady?” Chris watched her climb onto a stool at the bar in his kitchen. “Here’s a deal for you. I’ll call you Livvy, at least when anyone else is around, and you go back to being seven. Okay?”
She gave him the look a tired schoolteacher gives an unruly class.
“Something sure smells good!” Kaitlyn, followed by Jase, headed into the kitchen.
Chris narrowed his gaze on his niece and held his fist out for a bump. “So do we have a deal, Liiiiiiv . . . ?”
“Deal!” Olivia bumped his huge fist with her tiny one.
“. . . vy.” Chris finished with a wink before turning his attention to the other two. “Just in time. The steaks are about ready.”
“Man, is this a dry county or what?” Jase turned from the open refrigerator. “You don’t have any beer either.”
“Nope, afraid not.” Chris finished tossing the salad and took the steaks from the broiler. “There ought to be a few bottles of water in there, though. Help yourself.”
Jase looked at the bottle in his hand as if it were medicine but unscrewed the top and drained it in one swallow. As he walked past Kaitlyn, he muttered under his breath, “Man, you weren’t kidding about him, were you?”
Chris ignored the comment. He knew that Kaitlyn wasn’t any more impressed with his lifestyle than he was with hers, and if that didn’t bother him, the good opinion of Jase wasn’t even a blip on his radar.
Olivia nearly fell asleep during dinner, and Chris placed a hand on her head as he passed her chair on the way to the kitchen. “I think this girl’s ready for bed. Kaitlyn, you and Livvy can have my room. I’ll sleep in the room down the hall. Jase, you can take the sofa. It’s pretty comfortable.”
His niece wandered off to bed, scorning his suggestion that he come tuck her in, and Jase settled himself in the living room and scrolled through the TV channels. Kaitlyn started clearing the table, much to Chris’s surprise. As far as he could remember, she had never willingly taken on a chore that someone else might do. Maybe she was starting to grow up after all.
He smiled at her as he turned on the tap. “I’m glad we have a minute to talk. It’s been a while.”
She gave him a hug. “Too long.”
Chris glanced into the living room where Jase seemed to be engrossed in the images that flipped past as he pointed the remote toward the television. Chris put his hands on Kaitlyn’s shoulders and looked into her face. Even now, he could see the little girl he had tried so hard, and so ineptly, to shield from anything that could hurt her. He took a deep breath while he marshaled his thoughts.
“Kaitlyn, what are you doing?” Sadness and concern, rather than anger, tinged his voice. “You have to know what a bad idea this is. You’re a mom now. You need to think about what’s best for Olivia.”
She looked up at him and smiled the tiniest of smiles. “You’re right. Taking Olivia on a cross-country motorcycle trip was a dumb move.”
The happy smile that split Chris’s face froze as Kaitlyn completed her thought. “So we’re going to leave her here with you when we leave tomorrow. Hope that’s okay.”