Surprise Dad (4 page)

She sighed, got up from the bench and began walking, not aiming for any destination in particular. She reached the library and paused. Libraries always soothed her soul, made her forget the world outside.

She wandered in, tempted to go to the children’s section and relive the books she’d loved way back when, but something drew her to the computer. She typed in “health care professions” and watched a list of books appear on the screen. None of the books that interested her was on the shelves, which didn’t surprise her. She’d have to request some.

She noticed the head librarian walking her way, so she ducked into the stacks. She didn’t want to hear yet again how
surprised
everyone in town was to see Allie Hendricks back at home. And how
stunned
they were that she’d left medical school, and how
amazed
they felt that she’d done something so terrible to her wonderful mother.

Hey, nobody in town was more surprised, stunned or amazed than she was.

She wandered the aisles for a few minutes, looking for the what-to-do-with-your-life section. She could use a book or two on that topic. Not finding any, it occurred to her to check the Psychology section. She could surely use a little counseling. As she skimmed the titles, one book seemed to jump out at her. The title was,
Get a Grip: Understanding Your Emotions
.

She flipped through it, seeing discussions on transference, projecting and other psychological terms with which she wasn’t familiar.

Suddenly she realized what was going on with Mike.
In a psychology class she took in undergraduate school, they’d talked about how people often confuse their emotions. For instance, sometimes a person would transfer what they were feeling about one person to another person. Or what they were feeling in one situation to another situation. Often they’d fall in love with their therapists simply because the therapists had helped them with their problems.

Exactly what she was doing with Mike. He was helping her deal with her problems. She was confusing her gratitude with something else. It was as simple as that.

What a relief. Now that she understood what was going on, she’d be able to see him as a friend again. She picked out a couple of additional books and joined the checkout line.

Fortunately, the head librarian was reading to a group of toddlers. The bored teenager behind the desk checked Allie out and said, “That’s a cool shirt.” Nothing else.

It was a first for this town. Maybe things were improving.

M
AURY
would be leaving in a few minutes for football practice, and he was wielding the chef’s knife in a rapid, rhythmic motion, chopping onions as if no one else in the world could get those onions chopped.

Mike watched him for a moment and saw he didn’t look like his usual contented self. “Don’t like chopping onions?”

Maury didn’t turn around. “Sure I do. I like thin-slicing better, but chopping is fine.”

Mike tried again. “You let a ball get past the line yesterday?”

“Nope.”

Subtlety wasn’t going to work, so Mike said, “Hey, something’s wrong. The sooner you tell me what it is, the sooner we can fix it.” He moved toward Maury and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“Something’s happening around here,” Maury said, “and I don’t know what it is.” He kept his eyes fixed on his work, and the knife chopped on steadily, as if it were on remote control.

Mike knew he had to be honest and open with this boy. “Well, I’ll tell you what’s happening, Maury. A company in New York wants to franchise the diner. You know, open some more like this one. Like the fast-food franchises.”

“If that happens, everything will change, right?”

Mike knew he meant “everything will change for me.” He was aware of Maury’s background. His parents had moved from one place to another, looking for a job his father could succeed at, until one day his father gave in to despair and shot Maury’s mother and then himself. However stoic, however oblivious to anything but cooking Maury pretended to be, he feared that the unexpected phone calls and the occasional worried expression on Mike’s face meant his life was about to be turned upside down again.

It took Mike a split second to decide how to deal with Maury’s worry. “I haven’t decided what to do yet,” he said cheerfully, “so relax for now. I’ll keep you updated so you won’t have any surprises.”

Maury’s chopping didn’t slow down, but his shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension.

“If I do say yes, all it means as far as you’re concerned is that after culinary school, I’m going to hire you before anybody else snaps you up. Whatever happens, you and
I are a team, okay? Where I go, you go with me as long as you want to.”

Maury finally turned around. “That’s what I want, to work where you do.”

The simple statement touched Mike’s heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, that’s for sure,” he said. “Especially next Wednesday and Thursday nights, because that’s when I’m going to New York to find out what these people are offering and tell them yes or no. Think you can hold down the fort here?”

Maury gazed at him with his St. Bernard eyes. “I’ll handle it. What’re the specials?”

“You tell me,” Mike said, and in a few minutes they’d picked out dishes that were less labor-intensive than the ones he and Maury made together.

“How’d you like to make out the list of ingredients and place the order with the wholesaler?” Mike asked.

He watched the boy’s face light up. “You think I can do that?”

“You bet,” Mike said. He didn’t care what Maury forgot, what he ordered too little or too much of. All that mattered was the look on his face. Now that Maury was okay again, he could go back to worrying about the lawyer.

Then it hit him that the only people he’d told about the franchise offer were his brothers, Barney and Maury. What that meant was that they’d become his family, and that felt good.

A
LLIE LEFT
the library feeling better. She had a few books to read, and maybe something in them would catch her interest. At least she’d taken a step toward planning her future.

She strolled aimlessly toward home, moving in a crisscross, taking her time, looking at the houses she knew so well, remembering good times—or bad ones—in most of them, the bad ones being dates to parties with the most repellent boys in school because nobody else would invite stuck-up Allie.

She hadn’t been stuck-up. She’d been engaged in dreams of her future, dreams that lay beyond Serenity Valley.

And now she was back. So much for dreams.

She came to a street she’d always loved, the oldest one in town. Cottages sat close to the curb rather than set back, giving the impression of a village in the French countryside. A beautiful old Catholic church sat at the end of the cul-de-sac. A straight line of maple trees that the French-Canadians who’d settled in LaRocque had planted a hundred and fifty years ago shaded the houses.

Her favorite cottage was old Mrs. Langston’s, which was coming up on the right. It was built of irregular stone and topped with a peaked roof of Vermont slate. An ancient wisteria vine draped over the front door and climbed to the roof, and clematis were staked up on each side of the house.

There it was, as charming as she’d remembered it. Allie took one glance and came to an abrupt halt. A For Sale sign stood on the tiny strip of lawn in front of the house.

Her heart sank. Was Mrs. Langston sick, too sick to stay in her house? Or even worse, had she died? That was surely something her mother would have told her.

As she stood there staring at the sign and worrying, a car pulled up to the curb. A couple in their sixties got out and came up to her, smiling.

The woman had been her first-grade teacher, Mrs. Langston’s daughter. “Mrs. Appletree?” she said. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“And you’re—oh, my goodness,” the woman said, “you’re Allie Hendricks!” She gave Allie a hug. “I guess I’ve never stopped thinking of you as that serious little girl, all knees and elbows, who already knew how to read when you came to me.” She turned to the man. “I’m sure you know Roger.”

Who didn’t? He was the state senator representing Serenity Valley. “Senator Appletree,” she said, holding out her hand. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Why, thank you, my dear,” said the senator in his booming voice. “Would you like—” for a second, she thought he was about to offer her an autograph “—a tour of Mother Langston’s house?”

Allie shook her head. “I love this house, but I’m not in a position to buy anything. I saw the sign and was worried about Mrs. Langston.” She turned to Priscilla Appletree. “Is your mother—”

“We had to move her to assisted living,” Priscilla said, shaking her head. “She
so
didn’t want to go.” Then she smiled. “Within an hour after she’d arrived she’d joined a bridge group and was already making friends.”

“You’re selling the house, I see.”

“For a pittance.” Priscilla sighed. “She’d gotten to the point that she couldn’t keep up the maintenance. It’s a real mess, needs painting, and it’s stuffed to the gills with old papers and pictures. We’re asking a lot less for it than we would if it were fixed up, but Roger and I stay so busy…”

“And Priscilla’s dreading going through her mother’s things,” the senator said sympathetically.

“I’m sure,” Allie said. “All those old memories. It’s so hard to throw away any of them.”

“Yes. Well, I’ll have to do it someday, when we have a buyer.” For a moment, Priscilla looked despondent. Then she said, “Let’s talk about you. I heard you were back in town. Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing except my decision to go to med school,” Allie said. “It just wasn’t right for me. So I’ve come home to regroup, try something else when I know what it is.”

“I know you’ll make a good choice,” Priscilla said gently, and patted her arm. “I, well, you know how small the valley is, and I did hear that your mother’s not happy about your leaving school.”

“It was a shock to her,” Allie said, “but she’s
trying
to understand, although I know she’s still determined that I’ll be a doctor. I feel so guilty about upsetting her, and I feel worse now that she’s being so kind to me. Too kind.” She smiled. “I feel like a four-year-old again.”

“Mothers do that,” Priscilla said. “Maybe it’s time to leave home.”

“I wish I could, but you don’t make a lot of money going to med school.” She forced a smile.

Roger and Priscilla exchanged a look, and Roger nodded. “Would you like to stay here for a while?” Priscilla asked her. “We could postpone the sale until I feel more like cleaning things up, repainting and that kind of thing.”

Allie’s mouth dropped open. “It would be like a dream come true. I’ve always loved this house. Um, it would depend on the rent, of course…”

“No rent,” the senator said. “We couldn’t rent it to anyone in its current condition.”

It was too good to be true. “I’ll clean it up,” Allie said in a hurry. “I’ll…”

“You’d better take a look at it, make sure you can stand even walking inside the way it is now.”

“I can stand anything,” Allie said fervently. “When could I move in?”

Priscilla laughed. “As far as I’m concerned,” she said, “right this minute. I love your mother, but I know how determined she can be.” Then she smiled. “Just like you, Allie Hendricks.”

Allie realized that what Priscilla said was absolutely true. She and her mother were like two mules trying to share a stall. As she followed Mrs. Appletree inside, she felt like dancing. Her life was definitely taking a turn for the better.

M
IKE HAD BEEN
dreading the lawyer’s call for two-thirds of the day, and now, looking at the last third, he felt he couldn’t stand another minute of suspense. He’d overcooked one batch of flank steaks and Maury had rescued the next one just in time. Maury had snatched the sugar caster out of his hand when he’d picked it up instead of the sea-salt box, which didn’t look anything like the sugar caster.

Each time the phone rang, he twitched. At last, he picked up the receiver to hear, “Mr. Foster? Earl Ritter here.”

“Yes, Mr.—”

“I’m so sorry I’m just now calling. A family crisis and no cell phone, as my assistant told you.”

“No problem,” Mike lied.

“I’m afraid there is,” Ritter said. “I’m sorry to be calling with some very bad news.”

Mike felt his gut tighten. “Go ahead,” he said.

“My client, Evan Howard, died yesterday morning.”

Mike’s hand froze on the receiver. Evan Howard had shaped his early life, had been the wall Mike had to break down to be the man he’d struggled to become. Now his nemesis was gone, just like that. It was over.

He should feel relieved. Instead, he felt deprived of the opportunity to prove himself to the man.

“How did he die?” he asked as calmly as he could.

Ritter sighed. “A dreadful car accident,” he said. “His wife died with him. She was so young. It’s such a tragedy.”

Evan remarried? A young wife?

“The funeral is tomorrow and the reading of the will is on Friday. You’ll need to be there.”

“I wish I could, but I run a restaurant and have to be here. I want to send flowers, of course, if you’ll tell me the name of the funeral home.”

“Mike, you must be here.” Ritter wasn’t impolite, but he spoke so firmly that it took Mike aback.

“Evan wasn’t really a close friend,” Mike hedged, “so I, um…”

“He certainly thought of
you
as a close friend,” Ritter said. “He’s made you the guardian of his child, Brian Marshall Howard.”

Mike felt as if he’d been caught by a tide that was tugging him too far from shore to swim back. He needed to make some response to Ritter, but his mind had shut down.

“So you must be here, of course,” Ritter repeated, “to take the appropriate legal steps before you can take charge of the child.”

The tide released Mike for a second. If he didn’t go, if he didn’t take those appropriate legal steps, he didn’t have to take charge of the child? It was a tempting thought.

But not an honorable one. “Of course. I understand. I need to make arrangements.”

“Make them quickly. Celine’s family is…”

Mike rubbed his forehead. A headache was building up rapidly. “Whose family?”

“You didn’t know her? Celine is…was Evan’s wife. Brian’s mother.” Ritter’s voice tightened. “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly was your relationship to the deceased?”

If he told the truth, surely Ritter would understand that he had no idea how to be a good parent.

With his heart making a big lump in his throat, he said, “Evan Howard was my father.”

Ritter’s gasp hissed from the receiver. “He must have had a reason for not telling me he had a grown son.”

Mike wasn’t surprised to learn that his father had never mentioned him. “We’ve been estranged since I was sixteen. He couldn’t possibly have wanted me to bring up his son.”

“The will is quite clear,” Ritter said stiffly. “I assumed he’d informed you.”

Mike fell heavily onto one of the stools that flanked the big butcher-block table. “No,” he said, “but I’ll come to the funeral and the reading to see what’s going on. Give me the details, where and when the funeral is—”

Ritter named a funeral home and its address, droned on about the time and whatnot, then said, “I
will
see you there.” It was half question, half command.

“Yes.” He had to do it. He had to find out what madness had overtaken his father to cause him to leave his child to Mike. Even without the background garbage, how could he raise his half-brother—good grief, he didn’t even know how old the kid was—and run a restaurant? It was at least a sixteen-hour-a-day job, and when he slept, he dreamed about the diner.

Forget the restaurant, even. He hadn’t the slightest idea how ordinary, caring parents, parents unlike the ones he’d had, raised a child.

The back door banged shut behind Maury, returning from football practice. “Maury,” he said, “Barney, we’ve had a slight change in plans.”

“W
HAT
?” Daniel and Ian spoke in chorus.

“My father and his wife—number three, four, seven, I don’t know—died in a car wreck and appointed me guardian of their son.”

“How old is the boy?” Daniel asked.

“Did you know you had a half-brother?” came from Ian.

“In order, I don’t know, and of course not.”

“How can we help?” A typical reaction from Daniel.

“I don’t know that, either, not yet.” Everything was happening so quickly it was overwhelming. “I’m going to Boston tomorrow and coming back Friday afternoon. I’ve set up a plan for Maury and Barney. I’m pretty sure they can handle the diner for two days. I told Barney and Maury that a guy I went to culinary school with died in a tragic car accident, so you guys have to tell the same story.”

“Sure,” Ian said. “But what are you going to tell the boy? He needs to know you’re his half-brother.”

“Depends on how old he is,” Mike said. “That’s something I can think about later.”

He was so distracted during the dinner hour he could hardly put on his “Hello, folks, glad to see you,” face. Allie had shot him several curious looks. He didn’t want to tell her or anybody else, so he’d avoided her all evening.

Finally he retreated to the kitchen and began getting things ready for Maury and Barney while he was gone.

He was worried about the diner, but deep down, he knew he didn’t have to be. The last words Maury and Barney had said to him before the dinner customers began to arrive was, “Don’t worry about anything,” from Maury, and “Nobody’s even going to miss you,” from Barney.

He wasn’t sure he didn’t want anyone to miss him, but
their supportive attitude touched and cheered him. He was lost in thought when Allie moved up behind him.

“Guess we’re about through for the night,” she said. “Everything okay?”

“Sure is,” he said.

He could tell she didn’t believe him, but she said, “Good. Hey, guess what? I found a place to live today! It’s absolutely perfect if you don’t mind dust and clutter, and—” She interrupted herself with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry. I don’t want to bore you with details.”

“No, I want to hear about your house, but it turns out I have to go out of town tomorrow and I’m trying to do some prep work for Barney and Maury.”

“Is there a problem?” She frowned, and her voice was filled with concern.

He knew why she was worried. It was a well-known fact that he never went out of town. He was always at the restaurant, downstairs in it or sleeping above it. “Sort of,” he told her. “A guy I went to culinary school with died. He was a good friend back then. We lost touch, but I feel like I have to go to the funeral.” He hated lying to Allie, but he had no choice at the moment.

“Of course you do.” The kindness in her voice made the tension inside him ease a little bit. “I’m sorry, Mike. Even if he hasn’t been a close friend through the years, I know you remember the good times you had with him then, and that has to make you sad.”

It would if there’d been any good times to remember
. “Thanks,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

“Maury and Barney will handle the restaurant all by themselves?”

“I hope.” He hesitated, then said, “I know. I know they can handle it.”

“If I can do anything to help them out, I will.”

“They should be fine,” Mike said. “Barney’s been with me since we opened, so he knows the diner inside out. And if Maury wants to be a chef, he’d better find out early what a big responsibility it is.”

“Call me if you need to talk to somebody, okay?” She scribbled on a scrap of butcher paper and handed it to him. “That’s my cell. Sometimes these things affect us more than we think they will.”

That shook him, too, the way things had been rattling him from the time he learned his father was dead. “Thanks again,” he said, controlling the tightness in his throat. “I will.”

And then with a sad, sweet smile, she said, “You’ll be okay, Mike. I’ll be thinking about you.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

After Allie left, he spent a few more hours doing prep work that would make tomorrow and Friday easier for Maury and Barney. At one in the morning, he went upstairs to his apartment.

His entire life was in this small, two-hundred-year-old brick building on LaRocque’s picture-postcard town square. Years ago, when Ian had found the valley and settled into Holman, and Daniel, still completing his veterinary training, had chosen to intern with the vet in Churchill, Mike was the lowest chef on the totem pole in a fancy restaurant in Boston. He was good, although it was hard to tell working under a demon chef who demanded perfection, but it would be years before he rose to sous chef, then at last, chef in some less well-known restaurant.

He wanted his own place, something less stressful. He hated to admit it, but he actually missed Ian and Daniel, however maddening they could be. More than
that, he wanted to move to Serenity Valley. Life seemed so simple and peaceful there.

When the letter, written in a formal tone, arrived from his mother—how she’d found him he couldn’t imagine—asking him to visit her in Burlington, he was reluctant to go. He hadn’t been any closer to her than he had been to his father.

Still, he’d gone to see her, and found that she wanted to make peace with him. She’d finally understood why he’d turned into the petty criminal he’d been in his teenaged years, understood that his father’s and her neglect had contributed to his downfall.

He’d left feeling better about himself than he ever thought he could. He’d noticed how thin she was, but she’d always been thin, beautiful, sought after, the classic socialite, her involvement in “good works” stretching far beyond Burlington. He’d grown up in an elegant house, largely occupied only by him, his nanny and servants.

He’d had no idea she was sick until he received notice that she’d died, leaving a sizeable amount of money to “my good friend, Mike Foster.”

The rest was history. Much too young to do anything grandiose, he’d bought the crumbling building, fixed it up, started his restaurant and made a success of it.

Now it seemed to be happening all over again, but this time, there would be no forgiveness, merely an inheritance that would turn his life upside down.

His senses honed by anxiety, he saw the apartment, where he’d lived from the beginning, when it was in shambles, through sharper eyes. It had been Allie who’d said, “You could make this place look so pretty,” when he’d invited his skeleton staff upstairs for an impromptu party after an exhausting weekend.

Meaning, “How can you stand living in this hellhole?”

The memory made him smile. He’d gotten the message. Allie and her mother—and he remembered her as a mother who adored her daughter—had volunteered to be his “decorators.” They’d helped him produce a comfortable bachelor pad with leather-covered furniture and a large, worn Oriental rug, a bedroom and small office, a tiny, high-tech kitchen and a miniscule bathroom.

He was happy here. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, living any other life. When he was ninety, he’d have an elevator chair installed in the wide staircase and sweep down to the kitchen to get things going in the morning.

What if he couldn’t stay in the apartment with a half-brother to raise? His stomach muscles tightened again. It figured that his father, who’d done nothing but ignore him when he’d been young, was now messing up the comfortable life he’d made for himself.

In twenty-four hours he’d know. Feeling like a felon on death row, he packed quickly and, tired beyond belief, got a few hours of restless sleep. Long before the first rays of morning sun appeared, he was in the kitchen, waiting for Barney.

“What’d you do, stay up all night?” Barney asked when Mike showed him what he’d done the previous evening.

“Nope, didn’t take me any time at all,” Mike lied. “I just knew how busy you and Maury would be and wanted to help a little.”

“We’ll get along fine. I’ve been here so many years I know how to run this diner almost as well as you do,” Barney said.

“I know, I know,” Mike said, and sighed. “I’m just a little jumpy today.”

“Losing somebody’s never easy,” Barney said, “even when you haven’t seen that somebody in years. Goodbyes are tough.”

Barney was an authority on that topic. He’d been devastated by his wife’s death.

“Now go on and get out of here,” Barney said. “It’s gonna be a peaceful, ordinary day.”

Mike only wished he could say the same thing about the day ahead of him.

M
IKE HAD PROBABLY
just left for Boston, and Allie was already missing him. She was sure it was because he was such a fixture in LaRocque, always there, that even a few days away left a gap only he could fill.

Her mother had been unusually understanding about Allie’s wanting her own place. Allie thought, amused by the idea that maybe her mom was tired of waiting on her hand and foot. Early that morning, she’d moved into Mrs. Langston’s house with two suitcases and a computer bag. Her worldly possessions.

Even though she was now living in squalor rather than in her mother’s cozy, spotless house, filled with the scents of beeswax, lemon polish and baking brownies, she felt at peace. She sat in one of the velvet-covered wing chairs in the parlor, watching a cloud of dust rise as she squished into the cushion, and made a plan. She would have to clean. Buy groceries. Learn to cook a few things for herself.

Filled with purpose, she explored the closets and found a vacuum cleaner and plenty of supplies. She’d start in the kitchen, getting ready for her first cooking experience. She opened a kitchen cupboard. Yuck. Dust
under and over the plates and glasses. She emptied the cupboard, cleaned it out thoroughly and ran water in the sink for washing its contents. With a stack of plates in her hands, ready to deposit them in the sink, she suddenly felt lonely.

How silly. She was thrilled to be alone after years of roommates, after two days of feeling guilty around her mother, wasn’t she?

And she’d barely reinstated her friendship with Mike. Missing his presence in LaRocque, yes, but lonely for him? Absurd.

She had no intention of enduring the feeling until late afternoon when she’d start her shift at the diner. Examining her options, she decided that a person she wanted to get to know was Lilah Foster, and she really did have a number of questions about the benefit.

She looked up the number and dialed. “Lunch?” Lilah said, sounding rushed but delighted after Allie had introduced herself. “I’d love it. I need a break, too. You have no idea what it’s like around here in the mornings.”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Allie said. “I babysat Daniel’s kids once years ago. Just two days, but when it was over, I went home, put my feet up and didn’t move for another two days.”

Lilah laughed. “I’m amazed you survived at all. But back to the subject, lunch would be great. Let’s see, where should we go?”

Allie actually giggled. Maybe she’d survive this low point in her life, too. “I hear great things about Mike’s Diner,” she said.

“No kidding. Okay, see you there—when? Straight-up noon?”

“Perfect.”

It was early September, but the first frost had already
appeared on the pumpkins, so to speak, and the air was pleasantly crisp. Just as Allie reached for the door of the diner, a sparklingly pretty woman slipped up behind her, dressed in a blue turtleneck that matched her eyes. Allie held the door open, and the woman smiled. “Since I don’t recognize you, you have to be Allie.”

“Our minds were certainly running along the same lines,” Allie said, following her into the warmth of the diner. “You must be Lilah. This is some town, right? To be able to recognize people by the process of elimination?”