Between Us Girls (44 page)

“Two gung-ho type guys wanted to buy the Pig.”

“Danno told me that.”

“Well, when he told them that you had dibs, they made other plans. You know the empty lots on the other side of the bank?”

She nodded.

“These guys are building two restaurants. Somehow they've managed to keep things hush-hush. In a couple of weeks, the town council will most likely approve their plans. They're set to go after that. And no, they're not working with me.”

“Two restaurants?”

“First a sports bar, big screens, the works. They plan to open in time for the Super Bowl. By summer they plan to open a second one, a family-friendly, hamburgers, pizza, indoor playground, rah-rah-siss-boom-bah place.”

Jasmyn sat back down. “Wow. In Valley Oaks.”

“Yeah.”

“Worth a drive from the interstate.”

“It won't have the history or the small-town ambience the Pig is known and loved for.”

“Or the sauce.”

He shook his head. “Nope. No sauce.”

“So you're saying we shouldn't buy?”

“I'm not saying that.”

“Do we have to pay you to say that?”

He smiled. “No, Jazzie. Speaking in generalities, if you paid me, I would show you numbers and they would show that you had a fighting chance. And it would be a fight. It would be a long shot, but a shot nonetheless. There's nothing like Danno's place.”

“Maybe for good reason.” She shrugged and stood again. “Thanks, Nick.”

“You're welcome.” He moved around the table, opened the door for her, and shook her hand, holding it and the eye contact a tad longer than necessary. “Good luck.”

She hurried down the hall, grabbed Quinn as she emerged from the ladies' room, and steered her through the well-appointed office.

“Jazz, what happened?”

She didn't answer until they had gone through the glass doors and were almost to the car. “The short version is that Nick just made up for every mean thing he ever did to me.”

Jasmyn and Quinn treated themselves to the Chinese buffet across from the Rockville mall.

“What are we going to do?”

They took turns asking the question.

Quinn said, “Get jobs at the new place.”

“Which one? Screaming kids or screaming sports fans?”

She wrinkled her nose.

Jasmyn said, “Or let's just go for it. We'll stop at the bank this afternoon. Sign some loan papers.” With the amount she had tucked away
there, she assumed asking for a loan would not be a problem. “We can just slide on in and keep things as is. Nobody will even notice Danno's gone. We don't shut down for redecorating. We can do that some other time.”

“At least, supposedly, business would continue as it is.”

“It should.”

“Do we tell Danno?”

“Do you think he knows?”

They stared at each other a moment, and then they shook their heads in unison.

“Nah.” He would have told them.

Jasmyn said, “This is all starting to feel complicated.”

“I wish I could blame it on the crazy year you have going, but it feels the same to me. It's another red flag. A huge one.”

“I want to take a long nap.”

“Don't check out on me yet, hon. We'll talk to Danno. He'll know best. He might even be able to keep the place open long-distance, and we could just run it for him while he's gone.”

“Maybe.”

“There's always the beauty shop idea. Or Andrew's dad's auto shop.”

They had joked about combining the two shops. One-stop car and hair repair.

Andrew had graduated a few years ahead of them. He went off to college and landed a big-time job in Chicago, something to do with software. When his mother died and his father got sick, he returned to Valley Oaks to care for him and his auto shop.

That was when he and Quinn got together. When his father passed away some months back, Andrew had begun to work more from home for his old company and less at the shop. Lately, he'd worked from the office…in Chicago.

Jasmyn said, “What's really going on with Andrew?”

“Who knows? Let me count the days since he's been in town. Or since we've talked on the phone long enough to get past the weather report and how busy he is.”

“I'm sorry.” Jasmyn thought of how the two had hit it off, how perfect Andrew was for Quinn.

“His dad's partner is finally ready to buy him out, and Andrew's back in love with Chicago.”

“Does he talk about moving there permanently?”

“No, but there's nothing to keep him here anymore.”

“Quinn, stop. You're here. He loves you.”

“It's a tough competition. Me versus Chicago. What would you choose?”

Their eyes met and they each set down their chopsticks.

Quinn said it first, “Me versus California?”

“It's not exactly the same.”

“Close enough. With Danno, your job, and your house gone, there's only me here for you.”

They sat in silence, old, close friends whose minds—Jasmyn figured—were running the same circuit.

At last Quinn said it only because Jasmyn would not voice it first. “I could go with you.”

“You have your mom and dad and brothers and sisters and your grandma's house, and you're halfway to getting a beautician's license.”

“Three-fourths.” She bit her lip. Quinn never cried but she clearly was on the verge. “Jazz, you know you're more family to me than they are.” Her hushed voice quivered.

Jasmyn wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry or take that long nap.

Seventy-Six

Sam stood on the large front porch of a rambling, two-story, neatly kept old house in Lynn Center. Painted white, it had dark green shutters on every one of its countless windows. Through the tall ones that ran along the porch, she saw lace curtains.

A corner of the curtain moved and then the door opened. A man stepped onto the porch, his hand extended.

“Hi. I'm Ruthie's grandson, Jack Moore.” The guy was tall and narrow with wavy dark blond hair and a friendly smile. He wore blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt the shade of green that she had noticed on farm equipment and caps. “Otto called.”

She shook his hand. “Sam Whitley.”

“Nice to meet you. I hope you don't mind me butting in. Gran sort of comes and goes. I might be able to help keep her coherent.”

“I'm sorry. Maybe this is too much to ask?”

“Not at all. She will love talking to you. Come on inside.” He opened the door for her.

Sam walked through it, noticing the logo on his shirt. “Did you have to take off work?”

“No problem. My dad and I run the dealership in town here.” He followed her inside. “To the right. Gran! That lady I told you about is here.”

Sam turned from the entryway with its staircase and stepped through a wide arched opening into what could only be described as a parlor, something out of another era. There were overstuffed sofas and chairs with high backs and spindly legs, end tables with old-fashioned globed lamps, and
lace everywhere. A sweet fragrance greeted her, and she spotted a huge bouquet of white roses.

Ruthie Moore, white-haired and frail looking, smiled from the chair beside the white brick fireplace. She wore a floral dress and a lacy white cardigan. “What lady was that?”

Jack winked at Sam. “This one. Her name is Sam.”

The woman frowned as if confused.

Sam reached her chair and leaned down to greet her. “Samantha.”

“Oh.” Ruthie smiled and grasped Sam's hand between hers. “Hannah's girl.”

Neither Sam nor Jack corrected her. If she remembered there was a connection between Sam and Hannah, that was enough.

Ruthie studied her closely, her blue eyes sweeping Sam's face and hair, right to left, left to right, up and down, down and up. “The coloring's all wrong. But.” She smiled again and squeezed Sam's hand. “The spirit is there. See this, Jack?”

He stepped closer. “See what?”

“This.” Ruthie touched Sam's right cheek, near the corner of her mouth.

Sam met Jack's gaze. His brown eyes were clearly apologizing.

Ruthie tapped Sam's cheek. “That little crease. Hannah had it. It folded up whenever she talked. My mother said it gave her face character and it showed she was full of goodness. Have a seat.”

Sam sank onto the nearest chair, at a loss for words.

“Gran.” Jack sat on a loveseat. “How do you remember a little thing like that?”

“Little?” She laughed. “Mother compared me to Hannah Carlson almost every single day of my life, and I always came up with the short end of the stick. I hated the girl.”

“Gran, you didn't hate her.”

“I most certainly did. We didn't play all that much together. She was—what? Probably two years older. Smart as a whip. Another bone of contention.” She chuckled. “Let me tell you, I was glad the day she went off to college. Got her out of my hair. Not that Mother stopped talking about her.”

Sam said, “Where did she go to college?”

“Where all the girls went back in the day. That teachers' school down in Normal.”

“What did she look like?”

“Don't you know?”

“She died when I was two.”

“Two! How can that be? She wasn't here when you were two, was she?”

“No. She was in Arizona, where I grew up.”

“My goodness.” The light seemed to fade from Ruthie's eyes.

Sam's heart sank.
Don't go away.

Jack stood. “How about some tea? I'll be right back.” He left the room.

Ruthie said, “I hope the weather holds. Jack needs to get in the fields soon. If he would have kept the insurance business going without Father or Charles, we wouldn't have to depend so much on weather.” She shook her head. “But Jack doesn't like book work. I don't mean to complain. He's a good husband.”

Jack was her husband. That was probably young Jack's grandfather. But Charles? And insurance? It rang a bell from her research at the courthouse. Charles Carlson was Hannah's father and he owned an insurance business. “Charles Carlson?”

“Did you know him?”

“No.”

“He and Father got along famously. Everyone said that's why they were successful businessmen. Even during the Depression they did all right.”

“He was Hannah's father, right?”

“That's the one. Nice man. He'd bring me and my brother candy from Rockville. They were good people, Charles and Hilma. Such a tragedy.”

“What happened?”

“Haven't you heard?” She tsked. “Influenza. Took both of them practically overnight. Poor Hannah had to come home from college and bury them. She was their only child, you know. Her grandparents were already gone. The two who lived here. She might have had other family in Sweden.”

Sam sat back in the chair, speechless. Her great-grandparents had died at the same time? And so young? At the courthouse, their death certificates hadn't been found. The staff apologized, blaming clerical error and promising to keep hunting. Yes, poor Hannah!

“What did Hannah do?”

“Buried them, I told you. In the Lutheran Cemetery out on County Road NN.”

Jack reentered the room, carrying a tray. “Everything all right?”

Sam tried to give him a reassuring smile.

He handed her a mug. “Green okay?”

She nodded and sipped while he served his grandmother.

“So,” he said, “the Lutheran Cemetery. Samantha, have you been there yet?”