Hometown Reunion

“Would it be all right if I drop it off when I pick Joey up?”

Betty had a round, friendly face framed by fluffy silver hair, but her silence told him that it wasn’t all right.

“The children are really looking forward to their trip to the farm,” she said.

“I’ll run home and get it,” he said, wondering why she didn’t have an extra form he could sign there. Surely he wasn’t the only parent who ever forgot.

“I’d appreciate it,” Betty said cordially enough, although no doubt her thoughts weren’t as understanding as her voice. Didn’t moms ever make mistakes?

He returned to the aging white-and-green trailer he called home and hurriedly filled in the blanks on the field-trip form. He couldn’t fault the day care for wanting a doctor’s name and an emergency number, but the closest person he had as a contact person was his sister, Doreen, and she lived nearly forty miles away.

His parents were even farther away, since his father had had to move west to Omaha to find a job when Apple Grove’s only plant had closed. He’d worked his way up to foreman of the milk-processing facility, and it had been a blow to lose the only employer he’d ever had as an adult. Now his dad was counting the months until he could afford to retire from a tedious night watchman job.

All the friends he and Mandy had had as a couple had dropped out of sight, too. Most likely it was his fault. Taking care of Joey and trying to make a living took all his time and energy.

By the time he delivered the permission form, he was late for his appointment at the old café. He’d made a few rough sketches and done some estimates to show the committee, but he had a lot more work to do before he could make a final bid for the project. He never would’ve dreamed he’d be working with Lori Raymond. He still marveled that she was back in Apple Grove.

He drove the short distance to Main Street and parked in front of the café. Ten years ago he would have done anything for a chance to be alone with Lori, but she’d been a good girl in every sense of the word. Everything she’d said and done had sent him a message: She wouldn’t have anything to do with a wild kid who didn’t embrace churchgoing.

He felt differently about a lot of things now, even taking Joey to Sunday school every week, but he still didn’t feel comfortable in church or feel God played a part in his life. He’d had to grow up fast when Mandy died, but part of him still felt like the rebellious outcast. The town accepted him for his construction skills, but he never felt like he belonged.

The lights showed dimly through the filthy front window, so he guessed Lori was in the café, waiting for him. He couldn’t believe it, but he actually felt a little nervous about seeing her again.

Scott was late.

Lori hoped nothing was wrong and knew it was her own worries about her future that were making her impatient. She certainly didn’t want to get off to a bad start with Scott by mentioning his tardiness. The sooner he could get the café ready to open, the sooner she could leave to take a permanent job.

“Hello!”

She heard him calling from the front and went out to meet him.

“Good morning,” she said, surprised that she felt a little breathless seeing him again.

“Sorry I’m late.” He didn’t explain why.

“I was just looking around. It looks worse in the daylight.”

He laughed. “I think they’d be better off building a new place on the outskirts of town, but that isn’t what they want.”

“No, my aunt made it plain that they’re hoping to revive Main Street.”

“I thought they’d have trouble getting a cook. A lot of the people who used to live here are gone.”

“But you’re still here,” she blurted out, immediately wishing she could take the words back.

She’d vowed to avoid personal comments. After all, Scott didn’t know that she’d lived for a glimpse of him all through high school. Whenever he had spoken to her, she’d recorded every word he’d said in her diary. But she wasn’t a teenager with a crush anymore, and she didn’t expect them to be more than casual acquaintances in the short time she’d be in town.

“Fate is funny sometimes,” he said, looking around the dining area, with a little frown. “Do you want to keep the lunch counter or tear it out for more table room?”

“I don’t have a strong opinion either way. I’m more interested in the kitchen,” she said. Talking about the café renovations was much safer than dwelling on the past.

“I have a feeling the committee wants things just the way they’ve always been.”

“You’re probably right. My aunt hasn’t talked to me about finances, but she seems to think a few nails and a little cleaning will make it as good as new.”

He laughed softly and took off the battered cowboy hat. His hair was a darker blond than she remembered, and tiny wrinkle lines radiated from the corners of his serious blue eyes. Still, ten years had made him even more handsome, and she imagined that he was a favorite with all the women in town.

“I have to check out the cellar and the roof, and I’ll take a look at the wiring and plumbing. Hopefully, I won’t find anything really bad, but the pharmacy down the street was riddled with termites a few years back. I had to shore up the whole building after the exterminators were done. I’m hoping that won’t be necessary here, but this building is about a hundred years old.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” She exhaled slowly and realized she’d been holding her breath.

“I wish they would’ve called me to do an inspection before they bought the building. Most buyers have one before they agree to a sale, but the folks here were too eager to restart the café.”

“That would be my aunt,” she said, with a little laugh. “I have a feeling she spearheaded the whole idea.”

“Where do you want to start?”

“Oh.” She was a bit surprised that he wanted her to give directions. “The kitchen, I guess.”

“Thought any more about junking that monstrosity?”

“The range? I guess it depends on whether the committee wants to buy a new one.”

The kitchen seemed even smaller with Scott taking up much of the room between the huge range and the work counter.

“My aunt has plenty of volunteers for the cleanup. I imagine they can haul away the debris and such.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “It’s an awkward setup, the waitress having to come through the swinging doors to deliver the food. You could take down part of this wall to make a pass-through for orders.”

“That sounds expensive, tearing out a wall.”

“The whole place needs new wallboard. That knotty pine wainscoting has to go, not to mention that the wallpaper above it is filthy and peeling off. I’ve no idea what I’ll find when I’ve stripped it.”

“I don’t think the fridge is working,” she said, remembering one of her big concerns. “It was turned on when the electricity came on last night, but it’s still warm inside.”

He only grunted. “Let’s take a look at the cellar.”

Did he mean for her to go down there with him? She’d never liked cellars, and she was afraid this one would be particularly creepy.

“I’m not so sure about this,” she weakly protested.

“Follow me, and hang on to the railing. I don’t trust these old steps.”

He stepped through a door and felt with his hand for a light switch. When the light at the bottom of the steps went on, he still needed his flashlight. The single weak bulb dangling from a cord did little to illuminate the low-ceilinged cellar.

“Watch your head,” he called back, stooping to avoid hitting his.

Lori crept close to him, relieved that at least she could stand upright.

“They never threw anything away,” Scott said, sounding surprised as his light played over the shelves lining every wall. “Look at those tins. I bet that peanut butter pail is almost as old as the building.”

Her curiosity made her forget how much she hated cellars. Apparently generations of the Conklin family hadn’t believed in throwing anything away. She pointed at a red metal box.

“What on earth is that?”

“Probably a dispenser,” he replied. “I imagine it sat on the lunch counter so a customer could put in a penny and get a box of matches.”

“Look. Glass ketchup bottles. The labels are still on.”

“At least they washed them,” Scott said, without enthusiasm.

He was creeping around in the darkest corners at the far end of the cellar, moving his light over a foundation made of stones cemented together. She’d had enough.

“I’m going upstairs,” she called out.

One thing he could put on his list was a new stairway with a railing that didn’t shake when she touched it. But then, it was unlikely she’d be going down here very often. She would find other places to store supplies, even if they had to hang from the ceiling.

Scott was gone so long, she began to wonder whether she should call down or, worse, go looking for him. When he did emerge, his hands were black with grime.

“Do you mind if I wash up?” he asked.

“No, and by the way, you have a spiderweb in your hair.”

She reached up and attempted to pull it away; she was sorry about her impulsive gesture when he looked at her with surprise. The nasty little strands stuck to her fingers, reminding her of how much she didn’t like spiders. And how much she had liked Scott.

When he brought an extension ladder from his truck and propped it against the building, she elected not to follow him up to the roof. Whatever he found, she would have to take it on trust.

Aunt Bess and her committee must think highly of Scott, she decided, because he was the only one giving them an estimate on the work. Of course, her aunt thought the best of everyone.

The aluminum ladder was probably stronger than it looked, but it wobbled as Scott climbed up. He disappeared from sight for what seemed like a long time, and when he threw his leg over to climb down, she was even more nervous for him. She automatically said a prayer that he would get to the ground safely, then wondered whether he would scoff at her if he knew. The boy she’d been head over heels for seemed less cynical as an adult, but Lori wasn’t sure.

“Bad news and good news,” he said when he got to the ground. “The roof was tarred fairly recently. I think it’s good for now, but the chimney needs some work.”

“Can you do that, too?” she asked, wondering what the extent of his skill was.

“I can repair it, but I recommend a professional cleaning. The furnace was converted from coal. I suspect they may once have burned trash in it, too.”

They’d burned coal? She had never known anyone who had a coal furnace. She was beginning to realize what a tremendous responsibility her aunt and the committee had undertaken in buying such an old building.

She didn’t try to oversee the rest of his inspection. Some things she could see for herself: the poor layout of the kitchen, the shabby condition of the linoleum flooring throughout the building, the urgent need to repaint the old-fashioned tin ceiling and the peeling surfaces of chairs that had probably been painted half a dozen different colors over the years.

“Wow,” she said, more to herself than to him.

If it was God’s plan to give her a tremendous challenge, He’d brought her to the right place. She would give it her all, but she still fervently hoped that she could accomplish what was needed and get on with her life as soon as possible.

After what seemed like hours of peeking, poking and probing, Scott sat across from her at one of the dusty tables.

“It will take me a while to work out everything that’s needed and give you an estimate,” he said, still writing figures on a pad.

“I understand.”

He was all business, and she missed the easy friendship they’d had many years ago. She wanted to ask him about his life. Was he happy? Where was his wife? He’d yet to mention her, and she didn’t want to pry. She didn’t know where he lived or why he seemed to take sole responsibility for Joey. But nothing he said or did invited the kind of confidences they’d once shared.

When he’d said everything there was to say about the renovation, he slipped his notepad into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved his hat.

He turned at the doorway with a twinkle in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“When you cook, do you wear one of those chef’s hats?” He sketched a tall shape in the air with his hands.

“It depends on where I’m working.”

“Here, for instance.”

“I suppose I could. Why do you ask?” She eyed him quizzically.

“Just wondering how you’d look in a starchy white getup.”

He grinned and was gone.

Chapter Three

Lori punched in numbers on her cell phone, looking forward to a long chat with her best friend from high school, Sara Bennings. They’d kept in touch via e-mail, but actually getting together in person was a treat and one of the benefits of spending the summer in Apple Grove. Sara had married her high school boyfriend and settled into life as a farmer’s wife and the mother of Sunny, her four-year-old daughter.

“Hi. It’s me, Lori,” she said when Sara answered.

She was rewarded by a squeal of pleasure, and she could almost see her excitable, red-haired friend go pink-cheeked with enthusiasm.

“What are you going to be doing all summer, until the café is ready to open?” Sara asked after they exchanged recent news.

“A woman I know is writing a cookbook of recipes that will appeal to preschoolers. She’s going to pay me to test some of them while I’m here.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“I expect it will be, and it will give me a little income before I take another restaurant job.”

“Any prospects?” Sara asked. “I hate to think of you leaving again, but I can’t imagine any jobs around here that would interest you.”

“One with good potential in Chicago, but I don’t need to make up my mind right away. The restaurant is still under construction.”

They had so much to catch up on that Lori was surprised to see that they’d been talking for over an hour. She said goodbye, promising that they’d get together soon.

One thing she hadn’t mentioned to her friend was working with Scott on the café. Sara was the only friend who’d known about Lori’s big crush on him in high school. Sara might get the wrong idea if Lori brought it up. Lori didn’t want her friend to think she was still attracted to Scott after all this time. He was, after all, a married man.

“Daddy, wake up!”

Scott reluctantly opened one eye and grimaced at his son.

“How about letting me sleep a few more minutes?” he asked.

“You said we’d do something fun today,” Joey reminded him, planting himself astride Scott’s chest and digging in with his knees.

“What time is it?” He turned his head to look at the big red numbers on his alarm. “Seven o’clock! You don’t get up this early on day-care days.”

He couldn’t help noticing that Joey was already dressed in jeans and a green T-shirt, with the tag sticking out in front.

“I don’t have to go there today. Get up, Daddy!”

“I will if you get off me.”

Scott ruffled his son’s fine blond hair and growled in an imitation of a tiger. Joey tumbled off the edge of the bed and slipped his feet into the big work boots sitting on the floor. Scott reluctantly sat up while his son clunked the short distance to the kitchen area. Scott slept on a hide-a-bed in the trailer’s living area so Joey could have the only partitioned bedroom. It gave his son a private place where he could keep his toys, although they still seemed to spill out all over the place.

Scott stood, his foot narrowly missing a plastic dinosaur. He really should make Joey pick up all his toys before he went to bed at night, but sometimes they were both too tired.

Joey was rummaging in a lower cupboard, where they kept the cereal and crackers.

“I’ll make you some oatmeal as soon as I get dressed,” Scott said. “Meanwhile, pick up your toys. I nearly stepped on Dizzy the Dino.”

“Not oatmeal again,” Joey said dramatically. “Can’t we get some doughnuts?”

“Maybe later,” Scott said, remembering how empty the cupboards were. He absolutely had to get to the grocery store today, or they’d be living on peanut butter sandwiches.

The market wasn’t the only place he had to go. He’d just finished a job on Ridge Road. Now he had to get going on the café. He’d promised the committee an estimate in a week, and that meant he had to do the calculations this weekend. He planned to give them a rock-bottom price, not that he had any competition in the area, but he wanted to do what he could to help the town survive.

“What are we going to do, Daddy?” Joey asked as he energetically shook the last serving out of a box of dry cereal.

“Let me give it some thought,” Scott said as he measured out a scoop of coffee.

“We could go to Uncle Cory and Aunt Doreen’s farm.”

“Sorry. It’s too far for today.”

Scott loved his older sister, but he wasn’t up to her incessant questioning about his dating life or lack thereof. He didn’t know why she was so gung ho to see him married again. Right now he didn’t have time for anything but Joey and his job.

“Maybe the zoo,” Joey said hopefully.

“Sorry, partner. We’re not going to drive all the way to Des Moines.”

He had to give Joey the bad news that they were going to the big builders’ supply store. It wasn’t his son’s favorite place, but at least he wouldn’t have to have a sitter again this weekend. Scott had promised that he wouldn’t. He put bread in the toaster and milk on the table, then watched while Joey poured his own. Most likely he would spill some, but his son loved to be independent.

“Remember when we went to Apple Grove and looked at that old restaurant?” Scott said.

“Yeah, I liked Lori.”

Scott was surprised that she’d made an impression on Joey. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do for either of them to get too interested in her. She’d left Apple Grove once, and no doubt she’d do it again as soon as she could.

“She’s going to cook there for a little while when I get it fixed up.”

“I didn’t like it. It was scary.”

“It’s old and dirty, but I’m going to make it nice again.” Scott patted his son’s uncombed hair. “It just needs fixing up, and you know that’s what I do. I thought you could be my helper today.”

“How?” Joey liked specifics.

“What I need to do is a little measuring, and then I have to make a trip to Bensen’s.”

“That will take forever,” Joey wailed.

Joey had trailed after his father too many times in the home improvement superstore. It wasn’t his idea of fun by any means.

“I’ve been thinking,” Scott said. “I have a bag of wood scraps in the storage shed. Maybe it’s time to get you a hammer and some nails of your own so you can make something.”

It was a bribe, but Scott was glad he’d thought of it. Joey didn’t have friends his age in the trailer park, and there wasn’t much for him to do when he wasn’t at day care.

Joey’s enthusiasm proved it was a good idea.

“Eat up while I get ready to go. We won’t have to spend much time at the café. We’ll leave after I have my coffee,” Scott told him.

They weren’t going to day care. Joey could wear his shirt backward if he wanted to.

It took longer to get going than Scott had hoped. Joey had to fill his backpack with the usual odds and ends, including Dizzy the Dino, who, his son insisted, liked to ride in the truck. Scott ate his toast, then took a few minutes to clean up the kitchen area and flip his bed back into a couch. They weren’t likely to have visitors, but he didn’t want Joey to grow up thinking it was all right to be messy.

By the time they got to Apple Grove, it was after nine o’clock. Scott parked in front of the café and helped Joey out of his car seat, then took out the key Bess Raymond had given him. With his son at his heels, he went to the front door. It was unlocked. He stuck his head inside and called out loudly, not wanting to startle whoever was there.

“Anybody here?”

There was no answer, so he stepped inside, keeping Joey behind him. It was unlikely, but some transient might have broken in to spend the night.

“Hello! Anybody here?” he called again.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting anybody. Hello! Hi, Joey! What do you have there?” Lori stepped through the swinging doors from the kitchen.

“His name’s Dizzy,” Joey said, holding the plastic dinosaur up for her inspection.

“Hope I didn’t startle you,” Scott said. She was like a burst of sunshine in the dingy café.

She shook her head. “No, so many people have an interest in this place that I expect drop-ins. Well, Joey, are you Dad’s helper this morning?”

“I’m going to get my own hammer,” Joey said excitedly.

“Wonderful! Then you can build things like your daddy,” Lori replied.

Scott was pleased that she showered so much attention on Joey. He was reminded of how kind she was, always concerned about other people. Even though they’d never dated, he’d always admired that about her.

She smiled at him, and he grinned back to show her how much he appreciated the attention she was giving Joey.

Did she know about Mandy’s death? He knew how gossip circulated in small towns, but possibly she didn’t know yet. He wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject, and the last thing he wanted was more sympathy. He’d heard enough platitudes to last him a lifetime. He’d finally figured out that saying conventional things helped people deal with a loss, but he much preferred to get past his wife’s tragic end.

Had he been straight with Joey when he’d told him his mother had gone to heaven? Or had it been just another platitude? The important thing was that his son was comforted by the idea. He didn’t need to know how much Scott was struggling with his own beliefs.

A year ago he’d made the decision to start Joey in Sunday school. He wasn’t sure why, but it just felt right to include his son in the life of the church, even though he didn’t feel moved to participate himself. Some day Joey would have to decide for himself what his beliefs were. Scott didn’t want it on his conscience that he’d failed to expose him to Christian teachings.

Joey chatted with Lori as though he’d known her for ages. He didn’t usually take to strangers that quickly.

Taking out the notepad that held all his measurements and specifications, Scott studied the pages. He needed to check a few more things, then wait for the exterminator to give him a copy of his inspection report. It would make a big difference in Scott’s estimate if he had to shore up the building the way he had the pharmacy.

“Do you need any help?” Lori asked.

“Thanks, no. I just have a few things to check,” Scott said. “What brings you here this morning?”

“Don’t laugh, but I was planning the menu.”

“It will be a while before you can do any cooking here,” he said, laughing.

“Yes, I know, but I was trying to remember what Amos Conklin had on his menu. I want to capture the ambiance of the old café, but with healthier food.”

“I liked his pizza. It was great, but oil would run down your arm when you ate it. Great hamburgers, too, about half fat.”

“I remember his mashed potatoes. He served them with a big scoop of gravy and a huge pat of real butter. It’s hard to make things taste that good and still be heart-healthy.”

“I guess most people don’t want that kind of food anymore,” he said, “but it’s a treat once in a while. I love eggs fried in real butter, with hash browns on the side.”

“As soon as the café is up and running, I’ll fix you a breakfast special that will make your mouth water.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said with a grin. “While I have you here, maybe you can give me some idea what type of floor covering you want. I’ll be putting in new wallboard, too. It can be wood panels, or I can paint or paper it, whichever you like.”