Jacob's Ladder (21 page)

“Yeah.” It was impossible to see anything inside the glass front doors, but there were a couple of familiar cars in the parking lot. “Come in and meet the ladies.”

“All right,” he muttered as he parked. “Although I met some of
the ladies
yesterday, and it was like
Jerry Springer
.”

“You don"t know the half of it, but I think”—I hesitated.
What did I think
?—“I like them. I fit in here in some odd way.”

“That should scare you.” We exited the car, and he followed me up to the doors.

I opened one and ushered him in.

Muse looked up from where she stood at the mixer with Mary Catherine, who peered closely at us.

St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

119

Muse caught her expression. “I told you they looked just the same.” As one, my brother and I said, “We do not.”

I was dressed in my normal scruffy jeans and a tight T-shirt, and my brother had on black microfiber trousers, engineered to fit his body perfectly, and a black cashmere sweater with a high neck that closed off center. I didn"t make the connection when I"d first seen it, but it made him look like a heist-film cat burglar.

“Oh my.” Mary Catherine eyed us. “Two of you.”

“Oh come on,” I complained.

Dan just laughed. “I"m Daniel Livingston. I understand you"re thinking of opening a café here?”

“Yes.” Mary Catherine held out her hand for him to shake. “And I"m trying to get your brother to stay on and help me run it.” Dan smoothly pulled her away from Muse and monopolized her attention. “I thought maybe we could talk about that. I have some thoughts about his future myself, and I wondered if I could see the space you"re thinking about.” I watched him neatly usher her into the supply room she used as an office, even though he"d never been there before. The force was strong with Dan as far as the pursuit of business went. I didn"t worry about it too much, because I"d seen that Ken Ashton had the same kind of drive. That would be a clash of the titans if their interests weren"t mutually beneficial. Just watching him charm her put me in mind of Zeyde and all the pretty blushing waitresses, store clerks, and bank tellers he"d left in his wake.

When I looked up, Muse didn"t look happy. “What?”

“I wonder what St. Nacho"s sees in
him
?”

“I beg your pardon.” Well. At least one person didn"t appreciate my brother"s brand of charm.

“He doesn"t seem like the kind of guy who would like it here. He seems like the kind of guy who will slap a high-rise hotel on the boardwalk between the pier and Nacho"s, and the next thing you know, we"re all living in western Dubai.”

“I don"t know about that, but your assessment of my brother is probably more accurate than you know.”

“I"ve got to ask Minerva what she thinks.”

“Minerva?”

“At Rune Nation.”

Then I remembered. Rune Nation was Muse"s favorite metaphysical bookstore.

“If she"s right about St. Nacho"s, I doubt even my very industrious brother can do it much harm.”

“I hope not.”

“You"re serious?”

120

Z. A. Maxfield

“Of course I"m serious. How do you think this town has stayed off the radar of land moguls and developers who would build it up until it"s unrecognizable?”

“No clue, but if St. Nacho"s is a seat of sacred power, it can probably take my brother. Of course, he"ll put up a fight. Maybe we can get front-row seats.” Muse tightened her expression and went back to her work.

“So.” Candace spoke from where she was working, putting pie dough through a tabletop dough sheeter. “Your brother left his wife?”

“Yes,” I said. “I"m afraid so.”

“Do you think—”

Bianca made a rude noise, looking up from what she was doing, fitting dough rounds into pie tins. “Oh no.
No no no
. What happened to Dr. Magic from the other night at Nacho"s? The one that we all had to hear sucked on your lame-ass toes in the hot tub of his big-ass house?”

“Him?” Color crept up Candace"s neck. “Apparently he"s seeing a nurse from OB, as well as one of the drug reps. Alice gave me the heads-up on him.”

“Can"t say I"m sorry to hear it. Man who sucks your toes has gotta be desperate or crazy.”

“I beg your pardon. My toes are—”

“Man who sucks anyone"s toes. What is wrong with you? Do you want a man so badly you"ll just go off with any old toe-sucking bastard that comes along?”

“He was charming!” Candace argued. “And hot as hell. Ask Yasha if you don"t believe me. He"ll tell you.”

All eyes were on me, even Analise"s. “I can"t say I saw him that clearly,” I hedged. “He seemed nice. I"d probably have let him suck my toes.”

“See?” Candace went back to the dough sheeter.

Muse snorted. “You"d let anyone suck your toes.” Under my breath I said, “Not Candace.”

“I heard that, Yasha.” Candace pierced me with her most intimidating stare.

“And it goes without saying you"ll never have to turn me down.”

“Sorry.”

She turned and stuck her tongue out at me from a position where Bianca couldn"t see it. Suddenly I wondered how much she enjoyed pushing Bianca"s buttons. How much of her supercilious classy act was a put-on?

Dan emerged from the back with Mary Catherine. Their talk had been brief, but she looked happy enough, ready to roll up her sleeves like Miss Independence"s poster girl and get to work. We could do a lot worse things—Dan and me—than help Mary Catherine make her dreams come true.

“Ready for breakfast?” he asked me, and I thought I saw Candace shoot a hopeful glance his way.

St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

121

“Sure.” I followed him back to the door. Muse peered at him warily as we went past. I figured she"d throw salt or something, but I didn"t see her do it. I walked with Dan back to his car and got in.

“So.” He snapped his seat belt on. “Want to explain how you wound up working in a pie business that was originally funded by a loan from the Santo Ignacio City Council and intended to provide jobs for female victims of domestic violence, giving them a way to break free from financial dependence on their abusers?”

“I doubt anyone breaks free on what they make.”

“With other programs, subsidized housing, Medicaid, and WIC, Miss Independence makes it a more realistic goal.” Once we left the parking lot, he headed for the beach. “But you didn"t answer the question.”

“I mainly helped out because I was here in St. Nacho"s anyway and I had the skills. Mary Catherine gives me a little cash at the end of the day so I can buy food.

I would have done most of what I"ve done even if she hadn"t paid me. Mary Catherine inspires a protective instinct.”

“For me too, and it"s odd because she"s tough as nails. She sees right through my charm.” I didn"t think he"d said that about many people in his life.
Poor baby.

“She sucked me in when I refused outright to go to that domestic-violence support group. Little did I realize that she"d shoved me in through the back door because those women
are
the support group.”

“I like her a lot.”

“Me too,” I told him. “She"s special.”

“Have you met her son?”

“No, just his partner, Ken.”

“Yeah. Ken Ashton. I have an appointment with him this afternoon. I was hoping the three of us could work on some sort of partnership deal so you have a stake in the enterprise as well.”

“But if it"s a charity—”

“It"s not only a charity. Mary Catherine needs to make a living, and the better the business does, the more it can help the community. But regardless, if we"re all on the same page, this retail space can be a separate enterprise from the original pie bakery, and that can stay very much the same as it is today.”

“You mean we can operate both?”

“Yes. I think there"s a market for both, but I"ll have to do some serious research. I like it here. I think we should look for a more permanent place to stay.” At the stoplight he grinned at me in that I"m-going-to-take-over-your-life-so-try-not-to-struggle way, and my blood ran cold. I put my hand on his arm. “Look.

You"re probably at a loss right now. Since you"re starting over, it makes sense for you to take your time and think very carefully about your next move. I don"t see you as the kind of guy who"ll be happy here in five years" time. Definitely not in ten years.”

122

Z. A. Maxfield

“I"m not saying I"ll move here permanently, although the place has a lot of potential.”

That was exactly what Muse was worrying about. “Too quiet for you. You"ll be off to a bigger town in a matter of weeks. And I"ll be fine here. I"m ready to slow down.”

“Let"s hope it"s not too quiet, or you"ll be baking for the seabirds.”

“Where are we headed?” I asked him when he turned in the opposite direction from the motel.

“If you"re serious about relocating to St. Nacho"s, I thought we"d get breakfast and then figure out how to get your shit.”

I realized I"d have to go back to LA to sort everything out and pack it up. I"d have to face my landladies to give notice. I knew I"d feel like I was letting them down in some fundamental way because they"d been so kind to me, but at the same time they scared me a little because they weren"t quite sane. I needed to do everything else: turn off the utilities, forward the mail, and change the addresses on all my cards and documents.
Shit.

I buried my head in my hands. “I"ll have to go back to LA and finish up things there.”

“Yeah. But you don"t have to go alone.”

“What about you? Have you moved out?”

Dan pulled into the parking lot of the Denny"s, one of the few chain restaurants in town. He turned off the ignition and then sat there looking lost for a minute. “Bree and I have a housekeeper. She"ll pack my things and send them. I"m only taking my clothing and toiletries. My electronics.”

“You know…” I spoke because he seemed unhappy, quieter than he"d been since he"d arrived. “Bree is a religious woman, and you could appeal to your pastor.

Maybe go to counseling. If you want to make it work with her, you could probably—”

“I don"t want to go back.” He fidgeted with his keys. “But I don"t know how to move forward.”

If I knew Dan, taking over my life would be the first thing he"d try. I didn"t even mind so much at that point, knowing it was all for a worthy cause. We had an unspoken rule between us: only one of us got to fall apart at a time. Unfortunately for me, between Sander and illness and some really bad choices, it was definitely my turn.

He took a deep breath and opened the door to get out. “I"m seriously getting a children"s menu so I can make notes of things you"ll need as we think of them.” We entered Denny"s, and the smiling hostess took us to our booth. I thought about what Dan"s making lists on my behalf would mean to me. “Can"t you use the memo function on your phone?”

St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

123

“Sure.” He smiled at me. “And I would, if the list were for me. I"m making this list for you, and we need to come up with a timetable and some achievable short-term goals.”

“Oh, thank you.” I grimaced.
Thank. You
. “I"ve gotten nearly a half day"s rest. I was getting bored.”

“You"ll thank me sincerely later.” He tore off half his kid"s menu, which wasn"t blank anywhere but had a small amount of white space between the games and puzzles. “Write down everything you know about running a bakery business.” I picked up the small piece of paper and waved it. “All right. One good thing anyway. It"s more than will fit on here.”

“Just start.” He ordered a cup of coffee and tried to get the waitress to leave the pot, which she wouldn"t. Fortunately he was already thrumming with energy because he had a new project, and he was excited to get it started.

Unfortunately that project was me.

He shot me an enthusiastic smile. I took up my orange crayon and prepared to do as he"d asked.

124

Z. A. Maxfield

Chapter Nineteen

After breakfast I stopped by the SeaView to let Carl know I was keeping the room and that Dan and I had decided to head home to LA for the weekend. I told him I"d be back by nightfall Sunday, probably. I figured that I was telling JT, however obliquely, as well. Dan and I took off in his sporty little Lexus, armed with big to-go cups of coffee from a local coffee place, and his GPS navigation system, which we ignored for the most part so we could follow the road where it hugged the coastline. We"d left at about noon and stopped for a late lunch of fish and chips in Ventura at a place right at the water"s edge where the menu boasted seafood fresh from the boat.

Dan seemed oddly quiet, and I wasn"t really feeling talkative myself. Before we hit Thousand Oaks, I called Phil at Il Ghiotto and asked about my place.

“I let Sander in to pack up everything he said was his and then he hit the road,” Phil said over the noise of the restaurant.

Great
. I could probably say good-bye to my Linkin Park CDs. “That"s good anyway. That he"s gone.”

“I had the locks changed afterward. I don"t think he"ll bother you further.”

“Thanks. That"s a relief.”

“I"m sorry if it turns out he took stuff that wasn"t his. I had no way of knowing.”

I decided to adopt my brother"s attitude that it was worth the price to be rid of him. “I"m really grateful to you, Phil. I don"t care what he took as long as I don"t have to see him again.” Over the clatter of pots and busy shuffling noise of the kitchen, I could hear Maurizio"s smooth, accented baritone talking to one of the line cooks.

“Well”—Phil seemed distinctly uncomfortable—“as to that, he"s moved into one of the other apartments in your building with some guy named Seth.”

“No problem.” I
knew
that at least one of Sander"s fuck buddies had looked familiar. Seth. Right.
Seth
, who took my laundry out of the dryer while it was still wet so he could dry his. “As long as I don"t have to deal with him.”

“As far as I know he"s still working nights, so you probably won"t have to.”

“I really appreciate everything you did for me. Has…” I heard a familiar, petulant voice barking orders in Italian in the background. “That answers my next question.”