The Sugarhouse Blues Page 8

  “Maybe because they’d convinced themselves and each other that the fairy tale was real.” He put his arm around her, his hand warm and strong on her skin. “Maybe for them, at that time, for a while, it was.”

  “If it had been, he wouldn’t have been messing around with someone else behind her back.”

  “Why beat yourself up looking for answers you’ll probably never find? Why does it matter so much?”

  “Wouldn’t it bother you to find out that your father wasn’t who you thought he was?”

  “Oh, I know exactly who my father was. I’ve always known. No mystery there.”

  Something in the tone of his voice caused Des to bite back the retort she’d planned.

  “Everyone thought Donald MacLeod was such a great man. The doctor who made house calls in the middle of the night. The one who’d never turn you away if you couldn’t pay for his services.”

  “Your dad made house calls?”

  “He did. Of course, many of those visits were to his mistress, but it was a great cover for him. And sometimes the women who couldn’t pay him in cash paid him in other ways, if you get my drift.” An embarrassed cloud seemed to pass over his face before he continued. “My dad was said to have been a great mayor, too. All for the common good and all that.” He sucked in a breath, let it out slowly. “But he was a tyrant at home. Terrorized my mother and my sister, and me, too, until I grew up.” He stared into space for a moment. “Was your father a tyrant, Des?”

  “No.”

  “Did he try to make you be something you weren’t?”

  “No, my mother did that. He could have stopped her, though. At least he could have tried.”

  “Do you know for certain he didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Look, no one ever really knows how things are between two people. What goes on between them.”

  “True.”

  “So would that be so much of a stretch that he could have been lying to this J woman? Maybe it didn’t mean all that much to him. So maybe it shouldn’t mean all that much to you.”

  “To quote Game of Thrones, you know nothing, Seth MacLeod.” She unwrapped Buttons’s leash and snapped her fingers. The dog stopped her play, then ran to Des, who hooked the leash to her harness.

  As she walked away, Des heard him mutter something that sounded like, “Not the first time I’ve stuck my foot in it. Probably won’t be the last.”

  Des walked swiftly, her annoyance with Seth fueling her stride, the dog struggling to keep up. When they reached the corner, she paused to catch her breath and waited until the traffic signal turned green before breaking into a jog. She rounded the corner onto Hudson Street, then slowed her pace so Buttons could catch up. Once they reached the house, she unsnapped the dog’s collar so Buttons could run to the door. Des took her time, her mind a jumble of emotions.

  “What’s up with you?” Cara called from the porch as Des drew closer. “You look like you lost your best friend.”

  Des nodded. “I think I just might have.”

  She took the chair next to Cara’s and repeated the conversation with Seth.

  “Can you believe he actually took Dad’s side in this?”

  “You must have skipped that part.” Cara kept rocking.

  “I just told you . . .”

  “You told me that Seth said whatever happened between your parents was between them and had nothing to do with you, then or now. What part of that is wrong?”

  “It’s all wrong. It isn’t the point at all.”

  “Then what’s the point?” Cara stopped rocking.

  “The point is that all my life I believed in something that wasn’t real.”

  “It could have been real. Seth might be right, you don’t know.” Cara leaned forward. “How did you leave it with him?”

  “Badly. I was annoyed and stormed off.” Des toed off her sneakers. She looked up at Cara. “Go on, say it.”

  “I think he thought he was helping you to put things into perspective.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “Why did you tell him about the letters?”

  “Other than you, and occasionally Allie, he’s the only friend I have in Hidden Falls. We spent a lot of time together when I was helping him teach Ripley some manners back when he first took the dog. Seth’s always been easy to talk to; he listens. And I guess I needed to talk it out with someone I thought was neutral.”

  “Des, Seth is far from neutral where you’re concerned.”

  Des sighed deeply. “I shouldn’t have pounced on him like that.”

  “Probably not,” Cara agreed.

  “Since the night I met him back in March, he’s been nothing but kind to me.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned. “I owe him an apology.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “Everything he said about Dad and Mom and this woman was right.”

  “So what do you plan on doing about it?”

  “Eat crow, offer an apology, and hope he accepts it.” Des stood and picked up her sneakers. “Because it would really suck if we couldn’t still be friends.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Des stood outside Cara’s bedroom door, her hand raised to knock, when she heard Allie’s door open.

  “Powwow in Cara’s room?” Allie asked.

  “Just wanted to see if she was going to watch TV downstairs tonight,” Des replied. She wasn’t about to go over the whole Dad-Mom-J thing with Allie, at least not then. She was still a little unsettled, and there was no way to predict how Allie would react.

  That conversation could wait for another day. After a second full day of painting, Des wanted something mindless. She wanted escape. She wanted TV and popcorn and maybe enough wine to keep her negative thoughts at bay for a while.

  “What’s on tonight?” Allie leaned against her own doorjamb just as Cara opened her door.

  Des shrugged and said, “No idea. Cara? Any idea what’s on TV tonight?”

  “No, but I’m up for a movie.” Cara stood in the open doorway, her gaze meeting Des’s, an unanswered question hanging between them.

  “I’ll pass.” Allie disappeared into her room and closed the door.

  “Des, about the letters,” Cara whispered as they went toward the stairwell.

  “I’m fine, but I don’t feel like talking about it, so let it go, okay?”

  “Oh. Of course. But if you want to—”

  “I know where to find you. Thanks. Really.” Des descended the steps before Cara. She heard music coming from Barney’s sitting room. “Let’s see what Barney’s watching. Hope it’s a comedy. I could use a good laugh.”

  It wasn’t a comedy, but season two of Outlander qualified as escapism, so Des and Cara were all in.

  “Hold up. I’ll make popcorn.”

  “None for me,” Barney told her. “I’m having wine.”

  “Even better.” Cara sat on a low hassock. “Count me in.”

  “Why can’t you have popcorn with wine?” Des asked.

  “Ruins the ambience. When Outlander is over, we can put on something less intense. We can have popcorn then.” Barney gestured for Des to sit, but Des headed for the hall.

  “Popcorn goes perfectly with intensity. I’ll be right back.”

  Ten minutes later, Des returned, three wineglasses in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. They watched in silence as Jamie Fraser, the hero of the saga, appeared near dead after the battle of Culloden, and was bracing for his execution only to be saved at the last minute, while in the 1940s, the love of his life, Claire, gave birth to their child.

  “Would you time-travel if you had the chance?” Des asked when the show—and the weeping—ended.

  “I would,” Barney replied enthusiastically. “I’d love to experience life in other time periods. As long as I could come back to the present for things like medical care.”

  “Not me. I’m happy in this century. I like things like air-conditioning, central heat, and indoor plumbing. How
’bout you?” Des turned to Cara.

  “I would, as long as I could choose the period and what I wanted to see while I was there.” Cara appeared to ponder the possibilities. “And yeah, I’d have to be able to come back whenever I wanted. So you could watch something unfolding—like the American Revolution—but come back before it got bloody or scary.”

  “So you’d want to observe but not participate,” Des said.

  “I’d participate until it got dangerous. Or bloody. Or scary.”

  “Wimp,” Des teased.

  “Totally,” Cara readily agreed.

  “I’ll have some of that popcorn now.” Barney held out her hand.

  Cara held up the empty bowl. “We ate it all. I’ll make more.”

  As she began to rise, Allie called from the hallway, “Cara, can I borrow your car? I want to go to the drugstore to pick up some nail polish.”

  “I have some you can borrow,” Des told her.

  “I feel like getting out for a few minutes, but thanks.” Allie poked her head into the room and looked at Cara. “Would it be okay?”

  “Sure. You know where the keys are.”

  “Why don’t you walk? The drugstore is only a block and a half away,” Des reminded her.

  “I want to go to the one out on the highway, in the shopping center. They have a better selection.”

  Cara rose, the bowl in her hand. “I’ll be back with popcorn in about ten minutes.”

  Allie followed Cara from the room, and Des could hear their voices without making out the words as her two sisters walked toward the back of the house.

  “By the way,” she said to Barney, “Heather Martin called me awhile ago. She checked around and got the name and number of a guy who teaches at Althea College who’s not only interested in local history, but also writes grant proposals for organizations that are looking for funding. His name’s Greg Weller.” She got up and sat opposite Barney to face her. “Heather said he’s been working with the historical society in Carleton, which she said is about thirty miles from here.”

  When Barney nodded, Des continued. “He’s the one who helped their symphony orchestra get funding and organized their efforts to have Carleton’s first dwelling obtain historic designation. Maybe he’ll have some thoughts about applying for grants for the theater. It would help big time if we could get an influx of cash, however much it might be.”

  “Well, don’t start spending it yet, kiddo. Grants take time. There’s endless paperwork.” Barney rolled her eyes. “Years ago, when we were thinking about buying the old Stockton mansion to use as our town hall, we applied for several grants.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  Barney snorted. “The house sold before we could even get our paperwork together. It’s time-consuming, so keep that in mind.”

  Des couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I was hoping it worked more like applying for a loan.”

  “Not quite.”

  “I guess the grant person, Greg Weller, will tell me the same thing when he calls back. If he calls back.”

  “Well, the money hasn’t run out yet, so don’t be discouraged. And the ideas you have for raising funds are good ones, though none of them will bring in tons of cash. But I think you’ll find you can count on people in the community becoming more interested in the theater and more willing to support it the more they hear about it. Publicity is a good thing, Des. Get people behind your project, and I think you’ll find things will begin to fall into place. I’ve already got more than a dozen folks digging around in their attics for old photos.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Des picked up the wine bottle and poured a small amount into her glass. “Dad’s will didn’t stipulate what would happen if we weren’t able to complete the renovations with the money he left for the project.”

  “Oh, in that case, I suppose you’ll have to stay in Hidden Falls until you can afford to finish the job.” Barney grinned. The thought of her nieces on an indefinite stay obviously made her happy, and Des said so.

  “Of course it would make me happy.” Barney drained her glass of the remaining wine. “I never realized I was lonely until the three of you showed up, and then I wasn’t. You’ve made an enormous difference in my life.” The grin had faded and she became serious. “As harebrained as my brother’s idea was, making you three come live here, I have to say I’d plant a big kiss on his cheek to thank him if he were alive.” Barney rose and put her hand out for Des’s empty glass. “Best thing that’s happened to me in years. I never had children, as you know, so having the three of you is a gift.”

  “So for you, Dad’s will had an unintentional silver lining.” Des pondered Barney’s admission of loneliness. It reinforced her growing suspicion that by spending so much time in the past, Barney’d denied herself a future. How, Des wondered, do we help her move forward?

  “Unintentional?” Barney scoffed. “There was nothing random about any of this. I think he knew exactly what he was doing, bringing you all to me the way he did.”

  “What are you saying, that you think Dad did all this because he thought you were lonely?”

  “That was just a small part of it. The last time I saw him, I admitted the thought of living the rest of my life alone . . . well. That was beginning to weigh on me a bit. But he knew as well that you and Allie were, well, let’s say estranged, and he knew that Cara was alone. I think he wanted us all to be a family, Des. The theater was just the vehicle. Something to think about, dear. Now this little girl should take her last walk of the night. Come on, Buttons. Let’s take a stroll around the backyard.”

  Buttons hopped off the love seat and followed Barney out of the room, leaving Des alone to wonder if Barney might be on to something.

  Barney’s words reminded Des of that other Fritz, the one who’d been thoughtful and caring. The one who paid attention when you talked, who asked you what you thought or what you wanted. The one you always believed knew you. That Fritz wouldn’t be so easily dismissed.

  Then again, the Fritz who left Hidden Falls with Nora, leaving behind an apparently brokenhearted J, only served to reinforce what she’d long since come to believe. Love didn’t last, and in the long run, wasn’t worth the pain. Nothing in Des’s personal experience had ever shown her differently.

  Which was why she was adamant that she and Seth would never be more than good friends. She liked him way too much to ever fall in love with him and risk the type of heartbreak that always seemed to follow.

  * * *

  Allie sat in the parking lot, engine running, the lights off, and waited until the pickup made a wide U-turn and headed for the highway. She’d parked far enough away that the driver wasn’t likely to have seen her, but she hadn’t wanted to risk it, hadn’t wanted to have to make excuses if she ran into him inside the store. Not that she was doing anything he hadn’t done, and it certainly wasn’t against the law for a woman well over twenty-one to walk into a state liquor store and make a purchase. But still, she’d have to speak to him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Ben Haldeman just seemed to be everywhere these days.

  She watched the taillights disappear onto the highway before getting out of the car. She walked across the lot and pulled hard to open the door, which she remembered from previous visits weighed a ton.

  She knew exactly what she wanted and where to find it.

  “Mrs. Monroe.” The young clerk nodded to her as she passed the counter and she flashed her best smile in return as she headed toward the third aisle.

  She selected one bottle, hesitated for a moment, then added a second before heading for the counter.

  “I see you found what you were looking for.” Kevin, the clerk, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five and he never made eye contact for more than a second.

  “I did. Thank you.” Allie paid in cash, then with one more smile, left the store.

  Once in the car, she was tempted to open one of the bottles, but she knew better than to take a drink
and drive back to town. With her luck, that pesky chief of police would be the first person she passed, and he’d pull her over just for the hell of it. The fact that she’d witnessed him coming out of that same liquor store wouldn’t matter to him.

  She drove a little farther up the road to a bar, where she picked up a six-pack to replace the two bottles she’d taken earlier in the week. Pennsylvania’s laws regarding where you could buy or sell wines and liquors as opposed to beer, in her opinion, were inconvenient and made no sense at all. If you wanted wine or hard liquor, you had to go to a state-owned store that was operated by the state’s Liquor Control Board. But if you wanted more than a six-pack of beer—which you could buy in a bar—you had to go to a beer distributor. She had read in the Scranton Times-Tribune that the law, which had been established following the fall of Prohibition, had been changed to permit wine and beer sales in certain approved supermarkets beginning in 2017, but none of the local markets were on the list.

  Once back at the house, she stuck the two bottles of vodka, still in their bags, into her carryall, which she’d selected because it was large enough to hold her purchases. Not that it was a crime to drink. She just didn’t want to share—or explain. She just wanted to go back into the house and retreat to her room, where she could enjoy a cocktail or two in peace and forget about the things in her life that she couldn’t change.

  Like her divorce, or the fact that her ex had talked her into letting Nikki go to a private school conveniently located near his house. Which just happened to be most inconveniently located far enough from hers that Nikki ended up staying with her father during the week and with Allie on the weekends, an arrangement that had effectively flipped the custody agreement upside down.

  Allie hadn’t wanted the divorce from Clint. She’d always thought he was the only man for her and that she’d love him till death. Their marriage wasn’t perfect, but whose was? It wasn’t until after he’d asked for the divorce that she acknowledged all the things that had been wrong between them. Now, when she looked back at their marriage, she saw all the cracks that neither she nor Clint had tried to fill. The best thing to come from those fifteen years was their daughter. Nikki was the bright spot in Allie’s life, the only person she’d give her life for without hesitation or regret.