Livvie's Song (20 page)

“Yeah, figured you might. Next time you go home, Flo might kill you, eh? I’d run, too, if I was you,” said Hank.

Clem sniffed. “I ain’t runnin’. I’m just done with that woman, that’s all.”

Across the road, the line of folks waiting outside Livvie’s Kitchen grew shorter as more and more were allowed in. Every so often, a few people would exit the restaurant, satisfied expressions on their faces, which set off a round of excited chatter from those still waiting. It was as if they hadn’t eaten in a month.

Automobiles and horse-drawn carriages sped up and down Market Street, while people exited offices, stores, and bank buildings and scurried past, returning to their nice little families in their tidy little houses. Clem sneered to himself, thinking how this was a textbook example of a small town, where trust ran as deep and as long as the Wabash River itself. It occurred to him that he could probably snatch a few bucks out of a cash drawer in any number of these businesses, and no one would be the wiser.

The way these two no-goods had been acting lately, the idea of working alone was downright appealing. Besides, it plain excited him to watch Olivia Beckman’s comings and goings.

Yes, Wabash was looking better by the minute.

“Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” —2 Corinthians 5:17

Will couldn’t believe the turnout they had for opening night. They’d filled the restaurant to its maximum capacity—sixty—and dirtied every single plate, so Livvie had kept up a constant cycle of washing and drying dishes, only to fill them again with food for the next round of hungry customers.

“How are we doing on food?” Livvie asked him during a brief lull.

“I think we’ll have enough, provided nobody waits till the last minute to show up. Now that I have a better idea of numbers, I can plan accordingly for Thursday’s meal.”

“Helen Brent’s scrumptious pineapple pork chops,” Livvie said, smiling. She licked her lips, completely unaware of how the innocent move made him long to swoop down for a hurried kiss. Holy smokes! Who was he to even entertain such a notion?

He nodded. “Those should draw another good-sized crowd. Are you ready for that?”

Her smile grew, revealing more confidence than he’d ever seen in her; so wide, in fact, that her slightly crooked top tooth gleamed in the overhead light.
Charming. No other word for it.

“I’m—I’m overflowing with readiness!”

He laughed. “That’s good. I’m glad you’ve decided to enjoy yourself. Here, deliver these plates to your famished patrons.” He passed off two more plates of hot food as Cora Mae arrived with six empty ones and Sally with three. Livvie shrugged and giggled. “Your turn to wash,” she said to Cora Mae, brushing past her like she owned the place.

“Hey, Will! When you goin’ to play that there harmonica? The posters did advertise entertainment.”

Will looked up and saw Harv Brewster, one of Livvie’s regulars, who stopped in for coffee most every morning on his way to work. He was seated at a table with his wife and another couple he didn’t recognize.

“Yeah, time’s a-wastin’,” said another.

Will glanced at the wall clock. Ten after six.

“Go on,” said Cora Mae. “I’ll wash these up in a jiffy. Livvie will be right back, and she can help me.” When he didn’t move immediately, she gave him a gentle shove. “Go!”

Without further hesitation, he reached inside his pocket, then sauntered toward the center of the room. By the time he got there, the place had quieted, save for a few whiny kids. Will licked his lips, gathered a deep breath, put the instrument to his mouth, and broke into “Oh! Susanna.” In seconds, he had the roomful of diners singing along, clapping their hands, clanking their silverware on the tables, or tapping their feet to the wild rhythm.

He played until he lost track of time. Evidently, he had prepared enough food to last the rest of the evening, for he was never called back to the kitchen. When the restaurant finally cleared of its last customer, Cora Mae wiped the tables and straightened the chairs, Livvie swept the floor, and Will finished the dishes. Alex and Nate raced around, collecting sugar bowls and salt and pepper shakers, which they arranged in rows on the countertop to be refilled before breakfast tomorrow.

When the last pan had been toweled dry, Will hung the dishcloth on a bar over the sink, then surveyed the restaurant and reflected on the night. Overall, the event had proved a huge success. Of course, Livvie had yet to count the cash drawer, but he didn’t doubt the number would be high, even after deducting what they’d spent on food, advertising, and wages. The confidence that Livvie’s business would carry on gave him a great deal of satisfaction, especially since he’d played a part in it. At some point, if Livvie learned to really trust him, he’d ask to take a look at the books. Maybe he could find a way for her to hire another waitress or two without making too deep a cut in the budget. Livvie worked herself to the bone, and, with two active boys clamoring for her attention, she needed to take a day off now and then.

Alex and Nate each plunked one final sugar bowl on the counter, then zipped behind the bar and into the kitchen area in a game of chase. “Whoa,” Will said, nabbing them by the arms and drawing them to his sides. “Stand still while I tell you what a great help you were to your mother.” Out of breath, the sandy-haired boys stopped moving long enough to gaze up at him, their faces dotted with summer freckles. “You did a fine job of greeting everyone at the door tonight. I got nothing but good reports about you.”

Nate stretched to his full height, which, in Will’s estimation, measured four feet—pretty tall for his almost seven years. “Mrs. Conrad from our old church told me I grew so much, she hardly reco’nized me.”

“Is that so?” Will put his hand on the boy’s blond head and tousled his hair. “Your old church, eh?” He glanced up to see if Livvie had heard and saw her pause with her broom several feet away. “What church might that be?” he asked.

Both boys raised their shoulders in a shrug. “That one over there with the brown bricks,” Alex said, pointing at the restaurant’s east wall.

“The Wabash Holiness Life Church,” Livvie clarified. “It’s about five blocks away, corner of Miami and Sinclair.”

“Ah, that one,” Will said with a nod. “I passed it one Saturday afternoon on a walk around town. That where your brother-in-law and sister attend?”

“Yes, and I was raised in that church. I started attending with my parents as a little girl and just continued after moving in with Margie and Howard. It seemed only natural that Frank and I would go there after we married.”

“What about Frank’s family? They live around here?”

She resumed sweeping, her eyes trained on the floor, but she cast him an occasional glance while she talked. “No, most of them live in Canada. He came down here one summer in high school to visit his aunt and uncle over in North Manchester and wound up staying. They attended the same church as we did, so that’s how I came to meet him. Since Frank’s death, I…I haven’t wanted to go back there. Too many memories.”

Cora Mae walked up and wrung her damp rag over the sink. “I keep tellin’ her to go somewhere else,” she said, inviting herself into the conversation. “I know Margie and Howard wouldn’t mind, as long as she was going somewhere—and takin’ them boys, for goodness’ sake. They need to be in Sunday school on Sunday mornings, not playing checkers in their pajamas.”

“Stop your preaching, Cora Mae,” Livvie said with a lighthearted tone. She tucked a few wisps of hair behind her ears, then bent over to sweep a pile of accumulated dirt into a dustpan. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“Well, that’s reassurin’.”

Evidently bored with the adults’ banter, Alex and Nate started taunting each other, trying to step on the other’s toe. Soon, they darted off in the direction of their hideout at the back of the diner, but not before snagging a couple of cookies off a platter.

“You can come to church with me on Sunday,” Will blurted out.

Livvie lifted her head to look at him, then stood up straight and brushed her skirts. “Oh, I don’t think…I mean….”

“You could come on your own, of course,” he quickly amended. “Or, I could just take the boys to Sunday school.”

Her expression relaxed. Had he been too bold in inviting her? He certainly didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. “They’d like that,” she said with a nod.

“You can’t just send your boys off to church without you, Livvie Beckman. What would Frank say to that?” Cora Mae spouted.

He couldn’t help it. He plain liked Cora Mae Livingston and her forthright manner. When she had something to say, she didn’t dawdle. “She does have a point,” Will said. “Your boys would be better off if their own mother took them to church.”

Livvie stood there for a moment, chewing her lower lip. Then, she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll think on it.”

“Humph,” Cora Mae muttered, untying her apron and throwing it over her arm. “Don’t know what there is to think on.” She headed for the back of the restaurant. “You just get yourself up on Sunday mornin’, haul them boys out of bed, and say, ‘The Beckmans are going to church.’ It’s as simple as eatin’ a slice of pie.”

Chuckling, Will snatched another dishcloth off the counter, rinsed it under the faucet, wrung it out, and draped it over the edge of the sink.

“You know I love you, hon, and don’t mean to fuss at you,” Cora Mae was saying to Livvie as they hung up their aprons on hooks on the back wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the older woman gently brush several strands of hair from Livvie’s eyes. “I just want what’s best for you. Right now, I happen to think you gettin’ back to church is the best thing for you and them boys.”

“It’s time to go home, Cora Mae!” Livvie crowed. “I think this heat is getting to you.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Cora Mae looked at Will. “You made a fine meal tonight, Mr. Taylor. You pretty near impressed the whole town.”

“Thanks, Cora Mae. Get some good rest tonight. Breakfast will be upon us before you know it.”

She groaned. “Did you have to remind me?” Waving, she slipped out the back door, leaving Livvie and him alone, with the exception of her boys, whose exuberant voices could be heard coming from the back room.

Livvie sighed and shook her head, her mouth curved seemingly unconsciously into a smile. “Cora Mae gets a little carried away at times.” When he thought she was about to corral the boys, she walked back toward him, instead. “She’s worse than Margie and her hovering.”

“Like she said, she only wants what’s best for you.”

She stopped a few feet short of him and tapped her fingers on a nearby tabletop, looking thoughtful. “I know I should get back to church. Perhaps, I will try that Wesleyan Methodist church, after all.”

“Sunday school starts at ten. We can walk together…or not, your choice,” he said with practiced nonchalance, even as he sang a silent melody in his head.

“I suppose it’d be silly not to walk together. I have some umbrellas, just in case it rains.”

“We wouldn’t want to melt.”

Although it looked like she had something more to say, her mouth clamped shut when the boys emerged from the back room, Nate whining that Alex had taken his wooden truck away from him. “It’s time to go upstairs,” she announced, passing over Nate’s complaint.

The younger boy suddenly leaned into Livvie’s side and yawned. She put a loving arm around his shoulder and looked at Will. “Cora Mae was right. It was a good night. I should probably count the cash drawer right now, but I’m too tired.”

“Did you lock it up good and tight?”

“Yes, I have the key right here.” She patted her skirt pocket.

“Good. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to count your earnings.”

They bid each other good night, and he watched the threesome amble to the back door, Nate and Livvie arm in arm, Alex shuffling behind them, examining the toy car he’d allegedly snatched from his brother.

When the door closed behind them, Will gave the restaurant a fast scan, then headed to the front to check the lock and adjust the window shades. Before he reached the door, though, it burst open, and three men rushed inside.

“Well, hullo there, Will,” said the heaviest-set fellow. He looked vaguely familiar, even with his hat brim low over his brow. As Will’s eyes traversed to the other two, he seemed to hear alarms sounding in his head and had to scramble for his senses. What in the world had prompted these deadbeats to come to Wabash?

“You’re still open, right?”

“Clem Dodd?” he asked, squinting in shock.

Clem removed his hat and dragged a scruffy hand through his thinning hair. “In the flesh. Come all the way from New York. You happy to see us?”

Will shivered with dread. “Not especially. Sorry, fellas, we close at seven. Normally, our ‘Closed’ sign is put out by now, but I guess it got overlooked tonight. You’ll have to leave.”

“Huh? Is that any way to treat your old friends?” Clem asked.

Will studied the overweight slob, noticing his tattered, smelly clothes and the crusty gash across his left cheek. A sickly realization dawned on him. “You’re the one who’s been hanging around here for the past several days. Livvie saw you the other night.”

“Yep. We made eye contact. She’s one fine-lookin’ woman.”

Bile began to collect at the back of Will’s throat, along with a strong urge to pick up Clem by his collar and throw him out on the sidewalk. “You gave her a scare.”

“Really? Didn’t mean to.” Clem took a gander around the restaurant. “She must be rakin’ in some good dough, prob’ly turned a good profit tonight, what with that long line o’ diners you had comin’ and goin’. How’d you manage to land a job straight out o’ prison? Or don’t she know ’bout your past? You plannin’ to rob her someday soon?”

Will’s stomach clenched tight, and he uttered a silent prayer for clear direction. While he wanted to plow head-on into the lot of them and throw them clean across the street, he’d learned a thing or two about common sense over the years, and, right now, he figured staying calm was about the smartest thing he could do. That, and refusing to address Clem’s stupid questions.