COOL BEANS (15 page)

I didn’t know the pie was for her mom. There was not a note or anything on it. Just a freshly baked blueberry pie on the counter. Naturally, I assumed it was for us.

And this — this is quite a bit bigger than a pie.

Hi, Jen, did I mention that Travis and I looked at engagement rings, too? No? Oh, sorry, I guess I skipped over that part.

Yeah. I dip another spoonful of mint and chocolate and green dye #76. The best thing to do is to keep my mouth shut.
Jen doesn’t know; Travis doesn’t recognize me; and Jack will stay quiet because he believes it’s my job to tell her.

It will all be better if I clam it up tight.

And the truth will —

“Wonder what’s on the Style Network?” I ask Calvin, cutting off the voice and picking up the remote.

The meadow is green and frosted with dew, looking like a painting I saw not too long ago in a home-and-garden magazine. Jen looks around, a huge, thick, mattresslike blanket in her arms.

“Here looks good,” she says to me, throwing the blanket on the grass. I sit down, hefting a cooler onto the blanket with me.

“Cushy,” I say. The blanket is probably thicker than my sofa.

“Isn’t it? What’s for lunch?”

I open up the cooler. “Well, I brought a bunch of good things….” I look inside and gasp.

Ten miniature frogs are hopping around inside the cooler.

“What?” Jen asks innocently.

“Oh. Nothing, nothing,” I say, not wanting to alarm her. I look over her shoulder. “Oh, what a pretty forest,” I say, unenthusiastically. The second she turns to look, I dump the cooler out.

“Yeah, it’s great. Seriously, what are we eating? I’m starved.”

I open the cooler, looking for something edible. There’s a piece of lettuce, a cucumber, two Andes mints, and a bottle. I lift out the bottle.

“Green dye?” Jen reads the label. “Why are you bringing green dye on a picnic?”

I force a laugh. “Well, funny story.” I put the bottle down, but the lid pops off and the dye splashes all over my face.

Jen screams, “Oh, no!”

I yelp, “Oh, gosh!”

“Your face is green!” Jen’s voice started slowing down. “Your face is green! Yoooouurr faaace is greeeeen….”

“Roo!”

I jolt awake, nearly falling off the bed again but catching myself just as I’m sliding off the side. “Calvin!” I hiss.

He quiets momentarily.

“Hush!”

He jumps up on the foot of the bed and curls into a ball.

Falling back, I drift back to sleep.

My phone rings on Thursday right as I’m leaving for Cool Beans for my two o’clock shift. I glance at the caller ID.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Maya. How’s it going?”

I nod to my car as I unlock it. “Pretty good. You?”

“Good. Listen, I have a question.”

“I figured.” Mom never calls without a reason.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She sighs. “Anyway, do you remember the black sweater that I wore to your great-aunt’s funeral?”

I climb in the car and squint out the windshield, thinking. “Um. No.”

“It’s long-sleeved, and I wore it with that black-and-white skirt?”

“Did I go to Aunt Josephine’s funeral?”

Mom thinks for a minute. “Oh, wait. I guess you didn’t.”

“Then, no. I don’t remember the top. What about it?”

“Well, now you’re not going to be able to help me,” Mom groans.

I back out of the driveway, tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear. “Help you with what?”

“A co-worker of your dad’s is having a retirement party, and I was wondering if that sweater was too somber to wear to it.”

I can’t help the smile. Sometimes, it’s really obvious that Mom misses having a girl around the house.

“What did Dad say about it?”

She tsks her tongue. “Oh, you know Dad. He couldn’t care less what I wear.”

I grin. “True.”

She sighs. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll just have to figure it out.”

I start driving toward Cool Beans and smile lightly. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I miss you, too.”

It’s Sunday, and I’m walking out of church after listening to Andrew talk about something in James, I think.

Jack is right next to me. “So, what time are you going to your parents?” he asks.

“I’ll probably leave around four.”

“Okay. What are you doing until then?”

We get to my car, and I toss my purse on the passenger seat. “I don’t know. Maybe watch a movie or something.” I look up at the clear sky. The day is sunshiny, but it’s cooler. Plus, Sundays are my favorite days just to chill in front of a good movie or a good book.

Jack nods. He squints as he looks back at the church. He looks nice today — straight-cut dark jeans, a white polo shirt, hair slicked into a sticky-up preppy style.

He starts biting his lip, and I frown.

“What?”

He nods toward the church. “Look.”

Tim Watterby is standing there talking to a blond girl I’ve never seen before. Tim is probably the cutest guy I’ve ever met, but he’s so darn self-conscious. He can barely say hello to a girl without either (a) bursting into a spontaneous retelling of his
entire childhood in a very loud, uncontrolled voice or (b) getting sick and running for the bathroom.

It appears that this is an example of option
a.

The blond looks interested at first, but after ninety seconds of anyone’s mouth moving like that, I’d assume you’d get real tired, real fast.

“Poor guy,” I say.

“He needs to relax.” Jack shakes his head. “Some people just can’t talk to girls.”

“Well, girls are pretty scary.” I roll my eyes. “I just don’t get it.”

Jack looks at me. “Get what?”

“Why guys are so intimidated by girls.”

Jack laughs. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Pattertwig, girls are way intimidating.”

“Not me,” I say. “I’m not intimidating.”

“Sure you are,” he disagrees.

“Jack, I’m five foot two, and my idea of self-defense is Tae Bo,” I say, making a fist with my hands. “That’s laughable, not intimidating.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not in that way… . It’s more like …” He moves his hands around, searching for the right word in the air. “I don’t even know how to say it.”

I watch Tim for a minute and then look at Jack, who is back to watching Tim. “I have eaten an entire bag of Cheetos in one sitting. Is that intimidating?”

“Novice. That’s all I’ve got to say. Novice.”

I purse my lips. The blond girl waits for Tim to breathe, then interjects a hasty good-bye.

Poor Tim.

Jack sighs for him.

“I can score six holes-in-one on Harvey’s Miniature Golf course,” I say.

“Doubtful. I’d have to see it to believe it.”

“I can tell what color M&M it is with my eyes closed,” I try again.

Jack nods. “Okay, okay! You’re intimidating. Happy?” I grin at him. He laughs again and slings an arm over my shoulders. “So, you need to kill a few hours? Let’s go get lunch and then go golfing. I need to see this putter in action.” He fakes a golf swing.

“You’ll get killed. Are you sure your ego can handle the humiliation?”

Jack pats his chest. “Nutkin, my ego has handled more humiliation than the average soul and emerged even stronger because of it.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I’ll see you there, loser.”

After Jack and I finish lunch, we head for the golf course. Jack is right behind me the whole way. I can’t help the grin. My dad is the king of miniature golf. He had us on those fake lawns as soon as we were old enough to stand by ourselves. I hit my first hole-in-one at the age of three.

Jack doesn’t stand a chance.

“Okay,” I say, fifteen minutes later, golf club and neon pink ball in hand. “We’ll play by who gets the most holes-in-one. Deal?”

“You’re going down, Davis. It’s a scientific fact that men are more suited toward golf than women.” He tosses his blue ball up in the air and catches it.

“Words aren’t tasty, Jackie. Don’t make me make you eat them,” I say. “Hole one!”

I march over to the first hole. There’s a big elephant with his trunk blocking half the drive. The hole is straight behind him.

“Ah, the ever-popular
Elephantidae”
Zookeeper Jack says. “Ladies first.”

I plop my ball on the green, squint at the path, and tap it lightly.

“Too soft,” Jack says right away.

The ball bounces against the trunk, hits the edging on the green, rounds around the elephant, and falls gently into the hole.

I clear my throat. “I believe that counts as one.”

Jack scratches his head. “I might have misspoken earlier. See, when I said golf was for men, I meant the kind without a large Asian mammal between me and par.”

“Too late, Jack. Hit the ball.”

He hits it too hard. The ball careens into the trunk, whacks against the edging, and does a clean hop over the opposite side’s edging and starts rolling down the hill to the river running through the whole course.

“Dang it!” Jack takes off after the ball.

I grin.

By hole number six, I’m winning four to one. Jack saunters over to the zoo animal of choice for this hole, a giant mom giraffe and her two babies.

“And here we have a
Giraffa camelopardalis”
Jack says, patting the mom’s side. “In Middle English times, it was called a ‘camelopard.’”

I laugh. “You need to know all this why?”

“Because when I’m the director of the San Diego Zoo, some little kid is going to ask me why the giraffe has spots like a leopard and a face only a mother could love.” He grins.

“And your answer will be?”

“Because God made them like that. Why else?”

I nod slowly. “And it has taken how many years of school for you to learn that? Couldn’t you have just read Genesis?”

“Enough, Nutkin. You’re just jealous that you don’t get to work with such amazing mammals every day. Try to hide your envy of me.”

I laugh. “Whatever happened with Polly?”

“She’s still on my porch, still quoting
The Mask of Zorro.
Only now, it’s all the bad lines.”

“Well, she is on your porch. I’d be upset if you left me on your porch.”

Jack grins at me. “I’ll keep that in mind. I don’t think I’d have as hard a time getting rid of you. You’re cuter than Polly.”

“Aw, I think that was a compliment!” I coo. I line up my putt and gently strike the ball. It rolls right between the two unrealistic giraffe babies and drops into the hole. “Yet another sinker,” I say.

“You’re cheating.”

“Am not. You cannot cheat at miniature golf.”

“Can too. You could drop it in.”

I point at my club. “Then I am obviously not cheating.”

“Maybe my golf ball is dented.” He starts inspecting it, turning it in the sun.

“Come on, you big whiner, hit the ball.”

He sets the blue ball on the green and putts it too softly. It stops rolling halfway to the hole.

“I believe that’s five to one,” I say. We start walking to the next hole.

“So Zach and Kate will be at dinner tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m trying, Jack, I really am. I do love my brother. They just make normal everyday conversation so much harder.”

“Like how?”

“Like, I don’t know how to explain it.” I set the pink ball down. “It’s like everything just gets awkward and stilted. I want to say it’s because we’re still not used to Kate being there, but conversation with Zach has always been a little hard. He’s a super smart doctor, and I’m a barista.” I shrug. “Not that Mom and Dad care, but I do.”

Jack smiles sympathetically. “Not like this helps too much, but I like you as a barista.”

I tap the ball for another hole-in-one. “Thanks, Jack.”

“I hate you as a golf player, but I like you as a barista.”

I laugh.

At three forty-five, I turn in my club to the man in the stripy suit and grin at Jack. “Thanks for the afternoon. That was fun.” In all, I got ten holes-in-one. Jack got three.

It’s a new record — for both of us, I think.

“I’m glad you had a good time.” He rolls his eyes. “I’d say the same, but I think I need to go home and soak my self-esteem now.”

I smirk. “Told you.” I look at my phone and see the time. I still have to change clothes and pick up Calvin, plus the hour drive. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. We’re opening this week, right?”

“You got it.”

“Okay. Bye, Jack.” I smile and wave, starting toward my car.

He has a sad expression on his face as he waves. “See you, Maya.” He heads to his car.

Well, in all honesty, I did warn him I’d beat the snot out of him, so I’m not too concerned about the forlorn look on his face. It just makes me smile more as I drive home to pick up Calvin.

I get to Mom and Dad’s a little after five. Dad is out front, watering his favorite tree.

I park in front of the house and wave. “Hi, Dad!”

“Leave the car running, sweetheart.”

I do as he says, half-annoyed because I’m twenty-four but half-smiling because Dad equates my car being in good shape with him still taking care of me. I guess it’s a father-being-pro-tective-of-his-little-girl type of thing. But all of this protective-ness just means I have no idea how to do anything on my car because Dad always does it. What if I stall out in the middle of a desert someday? Never mind why I’m in a desert, but I’d be stuck there.

Zach and Kate’s Hummer is in the driveway already. I hop out, popping the hood. Calvin hurries out after me, running for my dad.

“Hi, Calvin!” He rubs the dog’s ears. “Hi, sweetie,” he says to me. “How’s it running?” He lifts the hood and looks at the Jeep’s innards.

“Fine. Seems to be running just fine.”

He swipes his finger on some post-rain sludge. “Kind of dirty down here, Maya.”

“Well, it’s been raining,” I say defensively.

“Hmm.” He leans further under the hood, his head and
shoulders disappearing. I stand there for a minute. “You can go on in. Tell your mom I’ll just be looking at the Jeep for a few minutes,” he says.

“Okay.”

Calvin opts to stay with Dad, and I walk into the house. I immediately smell a pot roast, and I hear Mom talking. I find her, Zach, and Kate all in the living room. There’s no fire going in the huge fireplace, and Mom’s not wearing sweatpants. Zach’s got on khakis and a button-up, and Kate’s wearing a skirt.

I guess we’re not lounging in front of the fireplace playing Cranium tonight. I tuck away the disappointment. Most Sunday nights I drive home still giggling over Dad acting out something stupid.

“Hey, guys,” I say.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom says, giving me a hug. “How was the drive?”

“Uneventful.”

“That’s good to hear,” she says. She smoothes my curls away from my cheek.

“Hi, Zach. Hey, Kate.”

“Hi,” they say together.

Mom looks at me. “We were just talking about Zach’s new position at the children’s hospital.”

“You like it?” I ask.

“I love it. My supervisor is very helpful, and the cases are challenging. I’ve got a couple of surgical procedures already lined up for next week.”

I nod. “Cool. Kate, did you find a job?” Kate has been applying all over San Diego for any lawyer openings.

She starts nodding. “I think so. I have a second interview tomorrow morning at eight.”

“Nice.” “Mm-hmm.”

I look at Mom, who is still playing with my hair. “Hi, Mom,” I say, relaxing into her touch.

“What did you do today, Maya?” she asks.

“I went to church, and then Jack and I went miniature golfing.”

“Fun.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation lapses, and I hold back a sigh. It might be a long evening. My back pocket buzzes, and I pull out my cell phone.

It’s a text message from Jen.
I’m going out with Travis tonight, so I might be home later. Just didn’t want you to panic.

Funny.

I put my cell phone back. We’ve moved on to discussing gas prices — the go-to topic if there’s nothing else to talk about. It’s probably because no one likes them, so everyone can agree.

Mom pulls on a pair of mitts and opens the oven to a steaming roast surrounded by potatoes and carrots.

“Mmmm,” I sigh. “This is why I come home every week.”

“Thanks. I miss you, too.” Mom smirks.

“And for the wonderful company,” I quickly add.

“Too late.” Mom slides the roast onto a pot holder on the countertop. “But I’m glad you like the cooking.”

“Definitely beats instant dinners.”

Zach shakes his head. “Do you know the sodium content in those?”

“Probably high.” I snag a steaming carrot. “Good thing I’m still so young and fit,” I say, batting my eyelashes.

“Maya.” Zach puts on his doctor voice.

“Uh-oh,” I sigh.

Mom grins at me.

“A diet high in sodium is the number one cause of high blood pressure, which leads to a whole bucketful of other health issues.”

“Thank you, Dr. Davis,” I say.

Mom saves me. “Maya, go call your father for dinner.”

“Okay.” I head for the garage and find Dad wiping off his hands with an oil-stained rag. “Dad, dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks, Maya. I just finished changing your Jeep’s oil, so you should be set for a few months.”