“We had an assembly, and I wasn’t required to be there,” he explained as he added cream and two packages of sugar to the cup of steaming-hot coffee. “I wanted to talk to you. I hated to hear what happened.”
“That’s sweet,” Dana said. “Want a chunk of gingerbread to go with that?”
“Love it, especially if it’s Zed’s. I can’t get up here on Wednesdays for lunch during the school year, and that’s the only day he makes it.”
Dana dragged an old chair from behind the deli counter so that he could sit across the counter from her, and then she propped a hip on the bar stool. “Place hasn’t changed and neither has Uncle Zed. The menu pretty much stays the same.”
“Which is a good thing. We all know the burgers are the best in the whole state. How about you, Dana?” Marcus asked.
“I have a fourteen-year-old daughter, so I guess the answer is yes, I’ve changed.”
“But you both still go by Clancy,” Marcus said.
“Yes, we do—it’ a long story, but I’m not married,” Dana said. “And you? Have you changed, Marcus? Still living right around here?”
“Hell, yes! I’m not half as smart as I was in junior high school or even high school.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “I hope you noticed that I’m a responsible adult now and not a pot-smokin’ wannabe rock star. I still live with my mother. She doesn’t like being alone and we get along really well, so it’s not a problem.” He took a sip of the coffee and changed the subject. “I’d sure like to ask you to dinner sometime. Think you might say yes?”
“Never know until you ask.” He seemed like a good person and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but there wasn’t a single bit of a spark between them. She hoped that he didn’t ask.
“Hey, Dana, I’m here for two dozen minnows. I hear the bass are bitin’ today,” an old guy with gray hair and a big straw hat said as he entered the store. “Good God, has Flora been in here with that cleanin’ crap? I like this place better when it smells like minnows. Howdy, Marcus. Didn’t know you was a fisherman.”
“Just dropped in for a cup of coffee,” Marcus answered. “How are you, Billy Tom?”
“Arthritis is actin’ up, but it won’t hurt no worse if I’m fishin’. And besides, the wife ain’t fussin’ at me if I’m out on the lake,” Billy Tom laughed.
“You got that right.” Marcus nodded on his way out.
“That’s a good boy there,” Billy Tom said. “Now, about them minnows. Maybe you better give me three dozen.”
Zed sat in Annie’s chair that evening. “I want to catch a whiff of your perfume long as it lingers here. I hope it never leaves. I got a story to tell you this evenin’.” He went on to tell her all about the school incident.
“I’ll tell you one thing, Annie. They might fuss and fight among themselves. Oh, they think I don’t see it or know about it, but I do. They try to cover it up when I’m close by so as not to make me sad, but I can tell by their body language if they’ve been at it again. Makes me want to put them on time-out chairs like you did when they was little. But today, they all stood together when it came to Brook, and the other night . . .” He went on to tell the story that one of the regulars at the café shared with him two days after Harper’s bar incident. “We both know that I’ve lived a lot of years longer than any of them, and I have my ways of findin’ out things.”
He moved over to his chair. “So I see some progress in them getting along, Annie. And that’s my good news. Good night, darlin’ Annie.”
CHAPTER NINE
March 30—the day had arrived, according to the miniature calendar stuck to the front of the mini fridge in Harper’s cabin that morning. Of all the days in the whole year, this was the one that always, always put a big black cloud over her head, a rock in her chest, and tears in her eyes.
The weeping would begin that evening at exactly eight thirty. Until then she’d just deal with the blackness of the whole day. She dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans and was sitting on the bench when Zed arrived to open up the café.
“Looks like it’s goin’ to be a beautiful day. I need to get a key made so you don’t have to wait on me in the mornin’s,” he said. “What time is Wyatt pickin’ you up tonight?”
“Crap,” she muttered under her breath. She hadn’t even looked at a calendar when she said she’d go out with him. No way could she do it. Especially not with him. This was the day that she normally didn’t go to work. This was the day when she usually drank herself into a stupor to forget.
“What was that? My hearin’ is gettin’ bad these days.” Zed flipped on the lights and adjusted the thermostat. “I’ll get the coffee goin’. Go be sure the saltshakers and napkin dispensers are filled up for the day.”
The phone rang, and Harper grabbed it. “Lake Side Resort. This is Harper Clancy.”
“Great. I was hoping you might answer,” Wyatt said.
“I’ve got to—” she started.
“I’ve got bad news—” he said at the same time.
They both stopped for a long, silent moment and finally he said, “You go first.”
“No, you,” she said.
“I was coming to the lake with four clients for a weekend fishin’ trip. Buddies of mine now. But one of them had a heart attack about an hour ago. I’ll call later and cancel our reservations, but I’m going to have to cancel our date tonight. I’m so, so sorry.” His deep drawl seemed sincere. “Now you.”
“It wasn’t a date. You didn’t even have to call. You just stay with your friend, and I’ll take a rain check,” she said.
“Thank you. If I can get away later this evening, I’ll call you,” he said.
“Don’t worry if you can’t,” she said, already planning to unplug the phone in her cabin as soon as she got home that evening.
“’Bye, then.”
“’Bye, Wyatt.”
Zed finished making coffee and glanced over his bony shoulder. “No date tonight?”
“It wasn’t a date to begin with. He was just going to come by and visit on the porch for a while. And we lost the rent on three cabins. His friend has had a heart attack,” she said flatly.
“I’m sorry,” Zed said.
“About the heart attack or the fact that we lost rent?”
“Both, but mostly because I think you wanted to see him this evenin’,” he answered.
“I’ve gotten over worse in my life,” she answered. “But I bet that some of your good strong coffee will help everything.”
“Always does.” Zed nodded.
It was ham day at the café, and every chair was filled by twelve o’clock. Harper spun, taking orders and refilling glasses. And then a man and wife arrived with three little daughters, blondes spread out from about a year old to somewhere around nine.
Harper stopped halfway across the floor and turned around so fast that the room did a couple of hard spins. She made it to the kitchen before she slid down on the linoleum, wrapped her hands around her knees, and began to sob. Zed stopped what he was doing and sat down beside her, drew her into his arms, and let her soak his shirt with her tears.