Sweet Waters (15 page)

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Authors: Julie Carobini

BOOK: Sweet Waters
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Camille lays one delicate hand across her middle, still laughing. “I'm telling you, Mel, Otter Bay's been so good for our Tara.”
Mel's smile flattens out, her face watchful. “I see that. But I wonder why just yesterday she seemed to want to leave.” Mel and Camille speak to each other as if I'm invisible.
A waitress named Mimi comes by, swinging a coffee pot and whistling. It's late morning, later than we usually show up for breakfast. Camille and I place our orders, and wait while Mel mulls over the menu. After taking Mel's order, Mimi zips on, and I look back to the girls. “I've decided to give it another chance—something you, dear Camille, say I never do.” Camille swallows her smile, probably feeling the aftermath of last night's conflict. “I'm still not convinced this move was my best decision ever, but . . .” I steal a glance at Peg who's barking at Jorge in between glaring at me. “I've decided to be proactive about our new adventure. To examine it from all sides, if you will, and be ready to intervene when necessary. Most of all, to stay positive.”
Mel cocks her chin. “Why Tara May, you're becoming downright daring. Next thing you know you'll be wearing real red on your toes . . .”
Camille sticks out her tongue. “Instead of baby pink. Blech.”
I shrug. “If that's what it takes.”
Holly flounces over to our table and sits down beside me. “Scoot,” she says, a lavish scent of vanilla enveloping the space as she slides closer. “Aunt Peg changed my station for some reason just about the time you girls walked in. Hi, I'm Holly, and you must be Mel-Mel.”
Mel's eyes narrow slightly. Her pet name is usually reserved for those times when one of us senses her deep need for buttering-up.
“I'm Holly, and your sisters have just been missin' you so. Welcome to our little Otter Bay.”
Mel cocks her head. “I've heard about you. Cam says you're in charge of the specials menu. I can appreciate that.”
Holly's eyes open wide. “You call her Cam too? So do I! Camille's a nice name, but kinda old-fashioned if you ask me. Cam is more fun, like she is.”
Mel's poker face breaks into a grin, an amused and slightly sarcastic one, but a grin just the same. “I agree. And I guess you know by now that when Cam needs to be on Tara's good side, she calls her ‘Tare-Tare.'”
Holly slaps back against the seat, one of her curls slipping out from her ponytail. “Ahhh—I love it. You girls are so much fun, I don't know what I've done without you to make me laugh each mornin'.”
“Tell me something else, Holly.” Any sign of judgment on Mel's face has vanished. “Where can I get myself some cooler clothes, something more . . . more stylish than a foofy skirt and flip-flops?”
I straighten. “Hey! I think I'm offended.”
Holly waves me on. “She didn't mean anythin' by it. You look good in your clothes, Tara, although if we're goin' to be critiquin', I'd say more color would make those big brown eyes of yours just stand right out. But anyway, I've got the perfect place for Mel to go.” Holly turns to me again. “You can go there too, if you want.”
Should I feel insulted?
Camille pipes in. “SLO! There's lots of shopping in San Luis Obispo, Mel. Holly and I went down there to check out the college and we saw the neatest stuff in downtown.”
Holly shifts her shoulders side to side, her face animated as she leans folded arms onto our table. “Yeah, yeah, you could go all the way down there, but try my friend Simka's store first. It's kinda hard to find, but I could take you there after my shift. She's got stuff like nobody's business, but folks around here just aren't buying. I don't understand it. Anyways, I took one look at you and just knew you'd like Simka's. With that hair—oh, to have straight hair like that!—you could be on TV. Now all you need are more tapered jackets, cotton ones, so you don't roast.”
Beth walks in wearing sleek sweats and a knit jacket. Her baby's not with her, so she takes the small table in the corner—the one I snagged last week. Peg greets her almost immediately, the sour woman's face wearing a rare smile, and I'm beginning to wonder what this young woman with the perfect haircut has that everyone else does not. Especially me.
“So what do you say about that, Tara?” Camille's watching me, her expression hopeful.
I give her a weak smile. “Sorry. Missed it. What were you saying?”
Holly slides out of the booth, just as Mimi delivers our food. “I'm about to get myself fired for the fourteenth time if I don't get goin', but we thought . . .” She looks around for support. “We thought you might be open to letting Simka help you with your colors.”
“My colors?”
“Yeah. Something to liven you up some. You're so beautiful, and all, that maybe you could learn to show it off more. And a better foundation will go far, Tara.”
“Foundation?”
“You know, bra-
zier.
Everybody knows the proper foundation will make you feel younger, and look perkier!” She glances up. “Oh-oh. Gotta go.”
Holly takes off into the kitchen with Peg nipping at her heels. Mel stares after her for a long while, her face a recipe of confusion and laughter. “She's perfect. You know you've arrived in a small town when someone like
that
joins you for breakfast.” She's cracking herself up. “Basically, Tara, you've exchanged one quirky small town for another. At least the people around here know how to get a great tan.”
Camille gives Mel a punch. “Aw, she's really nice.”
Mel winks at Camille, then clears her throat. “Who's she?”
I raise my eyebrows, but Mel doesn't back down. “The chick with the good hair that you were gaping at. Another friend of yours? Is she going to come over here and tell me about her stylist ‘Franck,' and how much he'd love to stick his fingers in my hair?”
I put one hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh, and realizing just how much I missed Mel's wit—strange as that may seem. Fortunately she has the good sense to lean forward and whisper this time. “You were staring at her like she stole your dolly. What gives?”
Quickly I sober. “I was not. We met at church the other day, and I was just trying to catch her attention so I could say hi.”
“Okay, now I've heard it. You. In church.”
“Yes. Stop staring, you'll pinch a nerve. And I don't understand why all the surprise. You went to Mary Jane's church a few times.”
“And you rolled your eyes each time I went.”
“Eat your biscuits,” I scold, sneaking another glance at Beth. She's no longer alone, but talking with the man who was with Josh here in the diner the other morning. He's tall like Josh, but thicker around the middle, and softer looking than your typical firefighter. As if sensing my gaze, Beth turns and recognition registers on her face. She waves demurely, and I offer her a wave of my own.
Camille sets down her fork with a clank. “Are you ever going to tell us about your date with a burning hot fireman?”
Mel's mouth curls upward. “I'm so glad I flew out here. Okay, dish.”
My mind's been too muddied to think much about my upcoming date with Josh. I considered telling Camille about it, but then I had that confrontation with Peg, and then I saw Beth's reaction to my friendship status with Josh, not to mention Mel's early arrival home . . . I'm starting to wonder if it's even a good idea to date anyone at this point in my life. I open my mouth to speak, when Holly shows up and once again scoots me over with one flick of her hip.
“What'd I miss?”
Mel flips a lengthy strand of hair behind her shoulder. “My sister's about to tell us why she's been keeping her new man under wraps.”
Holly sighs a baby sigh. “Josh. He's just the nicest guy. You could do a lot worse.”
I begin to speak, then sputter. Breathe in. “How do you all know about . . . Josh?”
Holly's eyes pop open wide. “Well, I saw him just sit right down with you the other day, acting all goofy eyed, and then I read his lips when he asked you to dinner next Saturday night. Wasn't I supposed to say anythin'?”
Horrified, I watch as she turns to Beth and the man who's now sitting across from her and calls out, “Don't you be tellin' Josh we're talking about him now.”
My hands fly to my face. Mel's laughter makes me part two fingers so I can attempt to still her with my steely gaze. I fail.
Holly goes on, as if she hadn't just embarrassed me beyond recognition, but at least she has enough mercy to lower her voice. “That's Billy over there. If you asked me, those two shoulda gotten together before all this mess.”
My laughter stops. Mess? Is she talking about Beth and . . . Josh?
Camille rests her elbows on the table. “We haven't been here long enough to know anything about it. Is he the father of her baby or something?”
Mel cuts in. “Not you too, Cam. One soap addict in the family is enough.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Camille shakes her mane and squeezes her nose and mouth into a pucker as if Mel suggested she eat a slab of liver. Holly's nonplussed. “What're you girls goin' on about? Beth's husband ran off with their babysitter. It was the biggest mess ever. Billy really liked her a long time ago, and everyone thought they might work out, but then she off and married Gordon. He was a piece of work, that one.”
Mel wags her head. “Jerk.”
Camille nods. “I'll say.”
Holly continues, her eyes squarely on mine. “Are they lookin' this way?”
I glance over. “No, you're safe.”
“Good. Okay, so she married Gordon, and then had a baby—well, you know everyone was countin' the months—and the next thing you know, he's walkin' the sitter home and not comin' back!”
Is no one immune from pain? Certainly Beth's countenance had been a tip-off to hard things but, and I'm ashamed to admit this even to myself, I'd been jealous of her. A young mom with a petite body, an adorable baby, and an obvious friendship with a man I'm drawn to. How could I see the meaning behind her downcast eyes when I refused to look beyond the obvious? I smooth my updo and stroke my ear. “So no wonder Josh was so tender with the baby.”
“Well, it's more than that. That baby doesn't have a father to look after it, and if it weren't for Josh, he wouldn't have a mother either.”
I stare at Holly, more confused than ever.
“Don't you know? Beth's house caught on fire, and Josh saved her life!”
Chapter Fifteen
It's one thing to discover that you misjudged a person, and quite another to find out that they almost
died.
After Holly drops this bit of Beth's and Josh's history into our laps, Peg shoos her away from our table and we never get to discuss it with her further. We almost pay the bill and leave, but much to Peg's obvious chagrin, dear Nigel hobbles in and asks to share our table.
He lowers himself into the booth, leaning carefully on his cane until he makes contact with the seat. A brief sigh escapes him, and we wait while he unfolds his hanky, mops his brow, then neatly folds it back up and slides it into his pocket.
“Now,” he says, his face serene, “who is this beautiful child with whom I've yet to become acquainted?”
“Nigel. I'd like you to meet our sister, Mel.”
Mel reaches out a hand across the table. “A pleasure, sir.”
“It's Nigel.” He smiles at her, then glances around the table at each one of us, never altering his expression. Mimi attempts to whiz by when Nigel quite slowly but deftly lifts his cane. “Mimi, dear, I'd like a cup of . . .”
“. . . half-caf coffee.”
He gives her a nod and a slight wave. “You remember.” She pours his coffee and offers him cream and sugar. “Thank you, dear. Also, I'll have the oatmeal, no raisins, please.” She takes his menu and spins away as Peg calls her name.

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