Brand New Me (18 page)

Jesus, would you just forget the freakin’ lower lip?

“That’s okay. Have at it.” Tom stared down at his iced tea. “I met a friend of yours this afternoon.”

Deirdre half-raised her gaze to his as she bit down on a tomato. “Who was that?”

“Said his name was Craig Dempsey.”

Her forehead furrowed in what looked like real confusion. “Craig? Why would Craig come to see you?”

“So he is a friend?” Tom hated to admit it, but he’d been sort of hoping she’d stare at him blankly, and the whole thing would turn out to be a hoax.

Deirdre shrugged. “Not a friend really. More like a business associate. A former business associate, that is. What did he want?”

“It’s more what he didn’t want.” Tom sighed, looking up into those indigo eyes again. “He wanted to steal the lease for the shop out from under you, to rent the shop for himself. Or rather he wanted to do that for your father.”

“My father.” Deirdre lowered her fork slowly to her plate.

“That’s what he said.” All of a sudden, he wished he’d waited until after they’d finished dinner. He had a feeling she might not be eating much more.

“Did you…” She paused, staring down at her salad. “When he asked, did you—”

“It’s your shop. I’m not going to rent it to somebody else when you’ve put all that work into it. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

She closed her eyes, briefly, blowing out a breath. “Sorry. For a moment there, I thought you might have given him what he asked for. Believe me, he would have paid you. Probably a lot.”

“It’s not about the money.” Tom managed a faint grin. “Well, not entirely. The Faro’s doing okay, and you’re doing a good job, Deirdre. I’ll help you out if I can.”

“Thank you.”

Those indigo pools had him again. If he didn’t find something else to talk about, ASAP, he’d end up saying something not only stupid but possibly dangerous to his health, given that the Toleffsons seemed to be taking a personal interest in Deirdre’s future. “What’s your father like?”

She speared another cherry tomato, grimacing. “He’s a businessman. A very successful one. He’s used to running things. And people.”

“What about your mom?”

“My mom died when I was eleven. Cancer.”

“So your father raised you?”

“More or less.” She sighed, running her fork through a pool of dressing in the bottom of her salad bowl. “Mostly less. I spent most of my time after Mom died in boarding school. In the summer I went to camp, and sometimes I got to stay with my Aunt Reba and Uncle Billy here in Konigsburg. Docia too. I saw Daddy every month or so when he was in town. And we’d spend the holidays together.”

“Not exactly hands-on.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t so bad. He let me know what he expected, and then he left me alone. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, I didn’t always get to make my own decisions. Like I wanted to major in art history for a while at college, and he told me flat out it was a waste of time and money, and that he wouldn’t pay for it. So I ended up majoring in business.”

Tom frowned. “Did you want to major in business?”

“Not at first.” She moved her fork back and forth in the dressing again, carving a small zigzag. “Once I got into it, I enjoyed it, though. And I was really good at it. I ended up going on for my MBA.”

“That must have pleased him.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Her mouth twisted slightly. “I guess it really did—at some level anyway. But he told me classroom learning was nothing compared to real life. And then he gave me a job.”

“So he helped you out.” He felt like he was tiptoeing through a china shop. Blindfolded.

“In a sense, yes. He didn’t really pay any attention to what I had to say, though, once I was working there. He had all these other people who’d worked for him forever, so I guess he felt like he didn’t need to. My opinion wasn’t worth much compared to theirs. And he wanted me to marry Craig.”

His gut clenched. “You were going to marry Craig?”

“I think Craig thought so. I’m pretty sure Daddy did.” Her eyes took on a faraway glint.

“What about you?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not so much.”

Tom exhaled. “And that’s why you left?”

Deirdre shook her head again, her mouth tight. “It’s complicated.”

Before he could ask her to uncomplicate it for him, Al’s wife, Carol, arrived with a tray full of food. She gave Tom a narrow-eyed look. “Clem’s cooking not good enough for you?”

“Clem’s off in the evenings. And I like Al’s catfish.” He lifted his platter of fish and fries off her tray, while she placed a huge bowl of coleslaw alongside it.

Carol smiled at Deirdre. “You’re Docia’s cousin, right? The one from Houston who’s waiting tables for this shifty-eyed character? I’m Carol Brosius. Pleased to have you here.”

Deirdre’s smile made him ready to forgive Carol for the “shifty-eyed” comment. “I’m Deirdre. It’s good to be here.”

“So are you really happy being Tom’s barmaid? Because we could use another waitress, you know.” Carol gave him a quick grin to let him know she was kidding. Sort of.

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

“Ah well, never hurts to ask.” Carol glanced around the table with a practiced eye. “Okay. I’ll bring you some more tea in a minute. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Tom stared after her, reminding himself that sending Deirdre to wait tables at the Coffee Corral wouldn’t make her any less vulnerable to her father and her erstwhile boyfriend. He speared a piece of catfish off his plate and took a quick bite.

Deirdre picked up a French fry and dragged it through some of the leftover salad dressing. “So what about your family?”

He regarded her warily. “What about them?”

“Where did you grow up? Brothers and sisters at home? Parents still living? That kind of thing.”

He bit through a hush-puppy, trying to decide how much to share. The Ames family legacy. Not the kind of thing he usually talked about. And obviously a long way from her life among the Texas billionaires. “I’m from Kansas City. The ’burbs on the Missouri side. My dad took off when I was in grade school. My mom raised us, only she worked waiting tables at Jack’s Stacks, so she wasn’t home that much. We moved around a lot—apartments mostly. I’ve got an older brother and a younger sister. I haven’t seen either of them in five or six years. In Burton’s case, largely by choice. In Minnie’s case, probably because we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

“And your mom?”

“Living in Florida last I heard. She got remarried a few years ago and moved down there.”

Deirdre’s forehead was furrowed. “She didn’t keep in touch with you?”

Tom sighed, feeling faintly defensive. Hell, it wasn’t like his life was all that unusual. Just sort of…basic. “Look Deirdre, not all families keep tabs on each other. We had a tough time growing up. My mom did the best she could, but I don’t think she was all that happy to be stuck with a three kids and no child support. She kept us clothed and fed and at school, but that was about it. The three of us grew up and got out, and so did she.”

“But it sounds sort of…bleak.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t that bad. Taught me some important stuff.”

“Such as?”

“Such as not expecting anybody to give me anything. Learning to depend on myself. Thanks to my family, I learned to take care of myself and not look for somebody else to rescue me.”

“Still…” She looked like she’d like to say more, but after a moment she concentrated on her burger instead.

Tom’s shoulders began to relax. Talking about his family wasn’t his favorite occupation, but at least those discussions never lasted long, given that there wasn’t much to say. At least she didn’t act like she was horrified to be spending time with a Midwestern redneck. He speared another good-sized bite of catfish.

“So how did you end up with the Faro?”

Well, hell.
He put down his fork. “If I said it was complicated, would you let it go?”

Deirdre shook her head. “I’ll tell you why my stuff is complicated if you’ll tell me about yours.”

He chewed on his catfish for a moment, thinking. But there was no polite way to put it. Might as well let her know how much distance there was between them from the start. “Okay, here’s the thing. I’m not a college grad. When I finished high school, I didn’t have the money or the inclination. And my trade skills out of high school were pretty much limited to road construction, which didn’t strike me as much of a life.”

He paused. Judging from the line currently marring Deirdre’s perfect forehead, he had her attention at least. But she didn’t seem too dismayed. Yet. “So I tried the army for a few years, but that didn’t exactly do it for me either. On the other hand, I picked up a hell of a skill set.”

“Doing what?” The line was more pronounced now. He figured she’d made the leap to mercenary soldier. Or maybe armed robbery.

He blew out a breath. “Poker. Actually, cards in general. But poker’s the most profitable game, so it’s the one I played most.”

The line disappeared as Deirdre’s eyes widened. “You won the Faro in a poker game?”

“Pretty much. Up in Dallas. Kip Berenger was in to me for a lot of money. He asked if I’d be interested in the Faro instead. Frankly it wasn’t worth as much as he’d lost, but I was ready to move on anyway. And I always liked the idea of my own bar.”

“You lived in Dallas.”

“I stayed there. Hotels, mostly.”

“But where did you…” The frown was back. “Didn’t you have a home anywhere?”

Tom gave her a tight smile. “Not really. I’ve never had a home until Konigsburg. Never owned any property, that is.”
No, sweetheart, I’m definitely not a dues-paying member of the middle class.

Deirdre shook her head slowly. “So all the stuff you’ve done at the Faro was from your poker winnings?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that and the money I saved from the army. I didn’t have any other use for it. And now the place is paying its way. On average, I figure we’re pulling in about as much as the Silver Spur most nights.”

“Clem says you’re going to start serving dinner.”

“Thinking about it. We need to attract the locals, too, and food helps. So does the music.”

“You’ve done really well. Congratulations.”

Tom blinked. She seemed sincere. The billionaire MBA, late of the Houston Brandenburgs, congratulating the poker-playing saloon owner on his business sense. Only in America.

She started to take another bite of her burger, but he shook his head. “Nope, you don’t get out of this. Your turn to uncomplicate the story. Why did you leave your father’s company?”

Deirdre set her hamburger back on her plate as the line appeared in her forehead again. “It’s sort of hard to explain. Not the part about my leaving—Dad threw me out, basically. But the part about why I told him I didn’t want to work for him anymore.”

“Wait.” He held up his hand, his jaw tight. “He threw you out? Literally?”

She shrugged. “I was living in a company apartment, and he said since I wasn’t going to work for the company anymore, I didn’t get the apartment. Plus I’d been sort of an idiot because I’d never gotten around to establishing my own credit cards and bank accounts. His name was on everything as a holdover from when I was in college, and he basically blocked me from getting hold of any of my money. Including all the savings I had from my salary.” She gave him a wan smile. “You’d never guess I had an MBA, would you?”

Tom bit back all his immediate responses, which pretty much amounted to
son of a bitch!
“You probably just didn’t expect your father to cheat you out of your own cash. I’d guess that’s more par for the course in my neighborhood than yours.”

“It’s just…” She stared down at her burger for a long moment. “He never seemed to listen to me when I was there. If I wanted to get something done, I’d have to tell him two or three times before he’d pay attention. And by then sometimes somebody else would have heard what I was trying to do and stolen the idea.” Her jaw tightened. “That happened more than once, to tell you the truth. With people I should have been able to trust. It taught me who my friends were.”

“So you figured he wouldn’t care if you wanted to leave and open a coffee roaster in Konigsburg?”

Deirdre nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what I figured. Why would he care? I wasn’t doing anything special for him—any number of young MBAs could have taken my place. And it didn’t seem to matter to him whether I was there or not.”

“Maybe he just wanted you to stay with his company. Maybe he had plans for your future.”

She sighed. “Probably he did. Of course, he never bothered to share those plans with me. I could have saved him a lot of grief if he had.”

“You always planned on doing this?”

“Yeah.” She picked up another French fry. “I figured I’d give my dad a couple of years and then strike out on my own. I mean, it wasn’t like he was going to pass Brandenburg, Inc. down to me or anything.”

“He wasn’t?” Tom frowned. He thought that’s what people in the Brandenburgs’ tax bracket always did.

Deirdre shook her head. “He already had his succession figured out. Plus we both knew I wouldn’t be good at it—I’m not big on big. The idea of running a major corporation gives me hives. Maybe he thought I’d stick around in some honorary post.”

“Not what you wanted to do.”

“Not even slightly. I actually told him a couple of times that I was interested in getting into the coffee business. I guess it didn’t sink in.”

Or he hadn’t heard. Or he hadn’t wanted to. Deirdre stared down at her dinner plate, munching on a fry. She’d eaten maybe half of her hamburger, and now she was drawing patterns in the ketchup.

Tom really wanted that desolate look out of her eyes. He wanted it out now. “Want to see where I live?”

She glanced up at him. “I don’t know. Do I? Is it memorable?”

“Not particularly, but I’ve got a friend you might like.”

“You live with a friend?”

“I do indeed.” He waved across the room to Carol. “What do you say we get the rest of this boxed up to go.”

He knew at least one thing that should put a smile on her face, assuming he wasn’t totally out of practice. At any rate, it would definitely put a smile on his.