Running on Empty (3 page)

Especially given the recent blood-drive mistake, AnnaLise would have expected her
mother to be a little more gracious to Bobby's . The two women, though not close in
AnnaLise's experience, had known each other for years.

Now Mrs. B gave Daisy a puzzled stare and turned back to AnnaLise. 'As I was saying,
Dr. Stanton tells me the spill looked far worse than it was. I lost well under two
pints.'

Two pints. Better than the three to four Mama had mentioned, but it still didn't seem
like only a small matter to AnnaLise.

She opened her mouth to say so, but anticipating another apology, Mrs. Bradenham just
waved her down. 'Not a word now, Little One. Not even a syllable. We shall not speak
of it again.'

Mrs. B shrugged her handbag onto her shoulder, unintentionally dislodging a lock of
carefully coiffed, ash-blonde hair to show a two-inch scar high on her forehead.

Before AnnaLise could pretend not to notice, Mrs. Bradenham quickly covered it. 'Ahh,
I see an open booth in the back. Bobby?'

But as Mrs. B made her way back to a table, Bobby took his mother's place by AnnaLise.
'Hey, Annie — good to see you.'

Bobby and AnnaLise had met on her first day of kindergarten at Sutherton Elementary.
A year older, Bobby and his mother lived in a big expensive house on the west side
of the lake. The Griggs family lived in the same building as their grocery store on
Main Street. It wasn't surprising the children's paths hadn't crossed until that fateful
day in early September, when Bobby stepped in to prevent a third-grader from snatching
AnnaLise's snack. Bobby had emerged from the confrontation with a bloody lip; the
third-grader with Mama's 'Marshmallow Crispy Treat'; and AnnaLise, with the conviction
she could have handled the bully better herself. Nonetheless, the friendship of 'Annie'
and 'Bobby' had been cemented.

AnnaLise slipped out of her side of the booth to give him an enthusiastic hug. Then
she beckoned the now-mayor away from the table where Mama stood consulting with Daisy
over the relative merits of elevating creamed spinach over green bean casserole on
the night's menu.

'Shame on you, Bobby,' said AnnaLise, punching him in the arm. 'Where's my protector
of old? You just hung back safely and let me deal with all three of them.' Bobby was
tall and well-built, with thick, chestnut-colored hair and a 24/7 smile. In other
words, the perfect politician.

'Sweetheart, it was a war of words and I never did have any idea what your mother
and Phyllis were talking about. And as for Ma?' He gazed skyward.

AnnaLise laughed. Mrs. Bradenham hated being called 'Ma' by her sole heir. Which was
why he did it, of course.

'Besides,' Bobby continued. 'I didn't see you do much more than try your darndest
to get a word in edgewise. In vain, I might add.'

'Speaking of which — the one spelled v-e-i-n — I wanted to tell you how sorry I am
about what happened. The bloodletting, I mean.'

'I saw that I had a missed call from you.' Bobby shook his head. 'Only like Ma said,
water under the bridge. No harm, no foul. What's past is past.'

'No chorus of "Que Sera, Sera"?' AnnaLise and Bobby shared a love of old movies. 'But
there was harm. I understand your mother lost consciousness. It would have taken a
whole lot of French leeches to do that.'

'Running on empty or not, think what Ma saved on shipping and handling. Those things
don't just slink over here on their own, you know.'

AnnaLise opened her mouth to apologize again, but Bobby waved her down in a gesture
reminiscent of Mrs. B. 'Let's face it, Annie. Our mothers are getting older. Maybe
mine oughtn't to be giving blood anymore and yours — ' he touched AnnaLise on the
tip of her nose — 'oughtn't to be taking it?'

'They're not exactly ancient, Bobby. My mom's barely fifty. And Ema?' AnnaLise glanced
down the aisle to the back booth, where Mrs. Bradenham had her smartphone out and
appeared to be texting. 'Well, I know she's older, but she looks amazing.'

'It's
The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Film originally released in 1945.'

'Not to mention, a book by Oscar Wilde. His only novel, in fact.' As a reporter, AnnaLise
felt it her responsibility to give another writer his due.

'You know how Dorian kept that portrait of himself locked away? Well, I'm the portrait
for Ma.'

AnnaLise just stared at him.

A shrug. 'She gets older, but the only evidence of it is yours truly.'

With the popularity of cosmetic surgery and Botox, Bobby probably wasn't alone in
that. 'Carbon-dating our baby-boomer parents might be the only way to prove their
ages these days.'

'Either that, or cut Ma in half and count her rings.'

'Whose rings?' Phyllis flopped down on the booth bench next to Daisy, sending the
smaller, lighter woman into the air like she was on a red vinyl teeter-totter. Before
either AnnaLise or Bobby could explain, if that was even possible or prudent, the
door chimed again.

Bobby beckoned the newcomer over, while saying, 'AnnaLise, here's somebody I want
you to meet.'

An Asian-looking man in his thirties approached them. Despite his relatively young
age, he walked aided by a cane.

'This is Ichiro Katou. Ichiro, say hello to my oldest friend, AnnaLise Griggs. And
you already know Mama and AnnaLise's mother, Daisy.'

Both women finger-wiggled hello to Katou before returning to their own conversation.

AnnaLise extended her hand. 'Good to meet you, Ichiro. Just visiting?'

Katou shifted the brass-topped cane from his right hand to his left to take hers with
a courtly bow.

'Originally, yes. I arrive in Sutherton two months ago as tourist among so many others.'
Katou's English had what to AnnaLise's ear was a Japanese veneer. 'But now I find
I will stay for some time.'

'How nice.'

'Bobby and I plan a sushi restaurant on the White Tail.'

Sushi in Sutherton. Would wonders never cease? AnnaLise's face must have showed her
surprise.

'I know what you're thinking,' said Bobby, holding up his hands. 'It's like the leeches.'

'Leeches?' Katou said, a shocked expression on his finely featured face. 'Those are
not, how you say, good eating, no?'

'No. That is, you're right,' Bobby said. 'We were talking about imported leeches earlier,
versus the homegrown variety. '

'For medical purposes, 'AnnaLise contributed, though it wasn't quite true. No need
to subject a newcomer to their admittedly warped slug humor.

Katou nodded once. 'Sutherton people already say, "Raw fish? We have lake just chock-full
of them."'

He seemed to be developing both the Carolina High Country accent and sensibility —
or lack of the latter.

Bobby laughed. 'Ichiro and I have talked about the possible... challenges, as you
can see. But I think you'll be surprised, Annie, by how much Sutherton is changing.
Besides, our typical customers may not be local. The tourists, bless them, should
be enough to sustain us.'

Spoken like a true... well, mayor.

A clearing of the throat from the rear of the restaurant and Bobby glanced toward
its source before lowering his voice. 'Ma disapproves.'

'Why?'

'She hasn't said. But, you know my mother. She simply ignores anything she doesn't
like. Figures that, without her fueling the issue, it'll go away.'

'I will not go away,' Katou said, with a wry smile. 'She cannot repulse me forever.'

'I wouldn't bet on it,' Bobby said grimly, glancing again toward Mrs. B's booth.

AnnaLise was confused, and not by Katou's use of 'repulse'. 'Earlier, you mentioned
White Tail. Is someone reopening the lodge?'

Owned by Dickens Hart, White Tail Lodge had been built in the seventies and patterned
after the Playboy Club concept. Rather than Bunnies, though, it featured White Tail
Fawns — comely females dressed as deer, complete with doe-eyed make-up and, you guessed
it, fluffy white tails.

A different era, the end of each high season was marked by the so-called White Tail
Games. Fawns — in full, if skimpy, regalia — competed in contests of 'skill' ranging
from relay races and target shooting to water-balloon tosses and limbo contests. Surprisingly,
jello wrestling hadn't made the list of events.

'Annie, the lodge was torn down a couple of years ago,' Bobby said. 'If you came home
more often than every century, you'd know that.'

An exaggeration, but what could AnnaLise say? It was true that while Daisy and Mama
had visited her, the last time she'd been in Sutherton was for her mother's forty-fifth
birthday. The ill-advised surprise party had culminated in Phyllis declaring, 'Don't
you dare go thinking about a fiftieth, AnnieLeez, or Daisy'll have me drawn, quartered
and boiled in oil.'

Then, apparently inspired, Phyllis had added 'One quarter of a fried chicken' to the
restaurant's entrees.

'I do have to visit more often,' AnnaLise acknowledged. 'But you were saying?'

'I was
saying
,' Bobby resumed, 'that the island is being developed as a residential and retail
area called — surprise, surprise — Hart's Landing. High-priced condos intermingled
with restaurants, boutiques and entertainment venues.'

'Dickens Hart is developing it himself?'

'Along with a business partner named David Sabatino. He's here with his family from
New York.'

Maybe Mr. High-Power, saddled with the family for breakfast. Or maybe not. 'So your
new restaurant...?'

'Katou's,' Ichiro supplied. 'Bobby believes this is right name for grand sushi place,
but I think it sounds too very full of me.'

'It's perfect,' AnnaLise assured him.

In fact, the journalist wouldn't change a thing — not Katou's delightfully thoughtful
way of speaking, nor the jet-black hair over eyes that hinted at hazel.

Those eyes lingered on hers until AnnaLise, embarrassed, glanced toward Bobby. But
the mayor himself was looking past both of them. AnnaLise and Katou pivoted to see
Ema Bradenham waving from her back booth.

'Your mother desires your attention,' Katou said to Bobby. 'Would you like me to...'

'Act as a sacrificial lamb?' Bobby finished. 'Please. And with my thanks. Tell Ma
I'll be right there.'

With another grin, Katou bowed to AnnaLise and took himself off.

'What a charmer,' AnnaLise commented.

'Says you and the entire female population of Sutherton. Except for my own dear mother,
of course.'

Mrs. B, spine ramrod-straight against the back of her seat, seemed intent on establishing
as much distance as physically possible between her and Katou, who'd propped his cane
next to the booth and slid in across from her.

'You'd best go,' AnnaLise said. 'She looks about ready to explode all over that nice
man.'

A mischievous smile. 'You wouldn't want to miss it, would you?'

'Go.' AnnaLise said sternly, hooking a finger toward the booth. 'Before there's bloodshed.
Uhh, more... blood shed,' she amended. 'I'll be in town through the holiday weekend.
We'll get together later.'

Bobby was not one to be put off. 'Let's say Sal's then, tonight at seven. We can have
a drink and catch up before Sinatra takes the stage.'

'Tonight is Frat Pack Night?' AnnaLise couldn't believe her luck. If Daisy was going
to bleed somebody out, might as well be just before Frat Pack weekend. 'I'll be there!'

'Ah, yes,' Bobby said, with a theatrical sigh. 'If only I inspired that kind of passion.'

AnnaLise kissed him on the cheek. 'You do. Now go see your mother.'

As Bobby followed orders, AnnaLise returned to join her tablemates, excited beyond
her better judgment. No matter how schmaltzy an evening of Franks — as in Sinatra
music and dollar hot dogs — might sound, the event never disappointed.

Mama and Daisy were whispering and giggling like a couple of fourteen-year-olds as
AnnaLise slid onto the bench across from them.

Phyllis smiled knowingly at her. 'Never too late, is it, AnnieLeez?'

'Now, Mama, don't—'

'"Now Mama" nothing,' she said. 'Why you and Bobby never went out is beyond me. Such
a nice boy, and I hear he's just a little... dickens, to boot.'

'Phyllis!' Daisy snapped. 'You hush!'

AnnaLise was confused. 'A "little dickens"?'