Riversong (9 page)

Lee tried to sound polite. “The time does go quickly.”

A man's voice called for Zac. He stiffened and rolled his eyes. “Great. My dad's here.”

A man in his sixties strode through the front door. He was a rustic kind of handsome, cowboy hat, straight spine, forearm muscles bulging behind the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt. He pulled his cowboy hat from his head and the room seemed to both shrink and fill with electricity. He gripped Lee in a handshake that bobbed her arm up and down. “Welcome back, Lee Tucker. Ray says you're looking for some work?” His voice was low and centered deep in his chest.

Zac glared at the floor and mumbled. “We don't have any work for her here.”

Mike pulled a chair out for Lee. “Sit. You hungry?” Mike raised his eyebrows at Zac. “Make us some lunch, bud. I could eat a horse. Not that we serve horse here, Lee. We're a bunch of hicks, but we won't feed you horse. Might taste like it, though. Can't find a decent cook to save our lives.”

Zac, face dark, glowered at Mike and turned his gaze on Lee. “There's nothing wrong with our cook.”

“It'd be darn hard for us to know since nobody orders any food, now wouldn't it?”

Lee fingered the collar on her blouse and tried to sound light-hearted. “I'm not hungry anyway. My neighbor brought me a pie and I've practically eaten the whole thing.”

Mike nodded, slapping the table. “Nothing better than pie.” He waved Zac towards the kitchen. “I don't have all day.”

Zac left for the kitchen without commenting. Mike seemed to relax the second Zac was out of sight. He scooted his chair into the table, metal clanking on the wood floor. “I was real sorry about your mother. I didn't know her too good but your grandfather bought lumber from my father way back when.” Mike's eyes, the same blue as a hazy summer sky, scrutinized her like he was looking for something important in her face.

“I never knew him.”

“Broke my heart when they were killed. I was already working at the mill by then, learning how to run it from my dad and I was in awe of your grandfather. I never met a man who seemed to love life more.” He paused and Lee saw a flicker of sadness behind his eyes. “My buddies say I'm getting sentimental in my old age, but it gets to where half the people you used to know are dead. Awful good to see his granddaughter in the flesh though, all grown and beautiful.”

“That's kind of you. Thank you.” A feeling of muted discomfort and a faint embarrassment washed over her. It was strange to learn about her grandfather from a complete stranger when she knew almost nothing from her own mother.

Mike shifted in his chair. “Let's talk business. Ray said you had a muckety-muck job up there in Seattle?”

“I was the President of a game company. My husband developed a game called
Random
. Have you heard of it?”

“Can't say I have. I don't know much about computers. Just got one last year and am finally on the internet like the rest of the world.”

“That was our first game, which we then sold to Gamester and were working on a new game when my husband died a month ago. Unexpectedly. And, I lost the company.”

Mike leaned back in his chair. “That's a tough break, kid. You come here to get a fresh start?”

“And to fix up my mother's house to sell.” For the first time since it happened she wished she could go on, tell him all the sordid details. “But I need a job.”

He placed his hands on the table. “My family's owned a sawmill here for over sixty years. You might be too young to remember how the timber industry died in the eighties and this town died over night. Before that there were three sawmills and between us we employed over five hundred men.” He chuckled and winked at her. “And a few women too. Secretaries in those days of course, before you all got liberated.” He played with the brim of his cowboy hat and shook his head. “My mill's the only one left and we only employ eighty people. Most of the young people leave as soon as they graduate high school and never come back. Families leave because there's no work. What does that leave us?”

Lee shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know.”

“A bunch of old people like me.” He smacked the table with his hand. “But I have some ideas to get tourists in here spending money.”

“Isn't the “Beautify River Valley Committee” in charge of that?”

He chuckled. “Did you see the turquoise paint?” Lee nodded and they laughed together. “Someone on the committee heard about these towns that have color codes, but anyway, the minute Ray called me, I remembered all those art prizes you used to win at high school and how Zac always said you were one of the smartest girls in his class.” He leaned back in his chair. “I'd like to see this place turned into a first rate restaurant.” He looked at her and raised his hands in the air. “You think you could do that?”

She thought of Linus. “Maybe. I have to be honest, I don't know the restaurant business. Matter of fact, I don't know a thing about food or wine.”

“My father said if you had a task seemed too big, break it up into parts and do it bit by bit. We'll use the same concept I have out at the mill. You start on the floor before you move up. You come in and wait tables, observe the kitchen, and after four to six weeks, come to me with a business plan.”

“What about Zac?”

He lowered his voice. “I thought this would be a good job for him, but he's made a mess of it. Women, booze, the whole bit.” He trailed off and glanced towards the kitchen. “He's had some problems. When he was seventeen, his mother left us. She wasn't a great mother to begin with but Zac always worshipped her. Zac and me, we've had a distant relationship at best. He was with his mom for awhile in high school and when he came back he was never the same. After high school he went to junior college but flunked out after a couple months. He's been kind of lost ever since.” Mike put his hands on the table. “He needs a job until he can figure out what he wants to do. So, Zac stays. You have to figure something to do with him.”

Just then Zac came through the swinging doors with two plates of sandwiches. He set them on the table, hard. Mike grabbed a sandwich and patted Lee's shoulder. “Zac, great news. Lee's agreed to come work for me. See if she can figure how to make some money out of this place.”

Zac stared at the middle of the table and his voice was soft. “What, you find one of your miracles?” He looked at his father and made quotes in the air with his fingers.

Mike glared at him but Zac plopped in a chair, crossed his legs and waved a sandwich in the air in rhythm to his words. “My ol’ pop here had a dream God wants him to save the town and he's been on the lookout for his disciples for a year now.”

Mike was red and a small muscle on the side of his face twitched. He massaged it with his index finger. “Be quiet, Zac.”

Zac's eyes flickered but his voice was flat. “When does she start?”

Mike's voice matched his son's, the air vibrating with unspoken words. “Tomorrow. She's gonna learn the business and come up with a new plan by May. Get used to the idea of a real boss.” Mike took the top piece of bread off his sandwich and fingered the salami, lettuce, cheese and tomato before reassembling it and taking a bite. “This needs more mustard.”

T
wenty-four hours later, Lee held her coat over her head and pounded her fist on the locked restaurant door. She had tried for an hour to get into the building and soaked through from the driving rain that fell in an angry torrent. Shivering, she cursed, turned for the car and almost smacked into a tall figure in a gray rain poncho. She looked up to see a man with light brown skin and eyes the color of black coffee grinning down at her. He held an enormous yellow umbrella like it was an extension of his arm, which gave the impression that he was in harmony with his surroundings instead of in dispute against the onslaught of rain and chill.

“You need an umbrella.” He put the emphasis on the um of umbrella, in a slight southern drawl. He moved the umbrella over her and smiled. His teeth were white and there were deep creviced half circles around his mouth. “The restaurant doesn't open until six.” His lackadaisical self-confidence, the way he appeared unbothered by the water that cascaded from the vinyl fabric to the cement, disarmed her.

“You work here?” she said.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I was supposed to meet Zac here at four to start work but he hasn't shown.” The wool fabric of her coat was beginning to give off the odor of wet dog.

Thick eyebrows lifted and his mouth twitched in a half smile. “Working here?”

She nodded and glanced at her watch. “At four.”

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a large set of keys. “I can let you in.” He unlocked the door and held it for her.

The door closed behind them. It was dark. Lee was suddenly frightened to be alone with a stranger. What if he worked for DeAngelo? How could she be this stupid to walk into a dark room with someone she didn't know? Holding her breath, she heard the whoosh of the man's umbrella closing, his boots squeaking on the wooden floor and a click of a light switch. The room filled with the white glow of fluorescent light. She blinked and stared at him, trying to make out if he carried a gun under his fleece jacket. The man stared back at her, leaning on his umbrella like a walking stick. “Zac doesn't get here until after five. I usually come at four to set up but I was late today.”

The smell of astringent chemical cleaning products clung in the air, making her nose itch and eyes sting. She sneezed and opened her bag to look for a tissue.

“Bless you.” The man ducked behind the counter and handed her a box of tissues. “My band plays here weekends.”

Lee blew her nose. He was a musician, she thought – thank God.

He put out his hand. “I'm Tommy Gonzalas.”

Lee shook it. “Lee Tucker.”

He put his umbrella by the door. “What's your job?”

She wiped under her eyes with the tissue and tried to sound nonchalant. “I'm a business consultant. Mike's hired me to upgrade the place.”

He cocked his head and studied her. “I didn't think you were from around here.”

“Good.”

He chuckled and pulled his rain poncho over his head, showing a glimpse of a lean brown stomach before adjusting his fleece jacket over the belt of his pants. “You do restaurants mostly?” His wavy black hair stood up from the electricity of the rubber poncho and he rubbed his hands through it. He wore a chain with a cross around his neck.

Lee squeezed the piece of tissue into a ball in the palm of her hand. “Sure.”

There was a knock on the front door. A teenager in a backwards baseball cap waved to them. The man motioned for him to enter. “What's up Oliver?”

“Hey, Tommy, we can't get into the center ‘cause Marlo's sick and the doors are locked. And we got enough kids for a game.”

Tommy looked at Lee and winked. “Guess this is my day for unlocking doors.” He pulled a key off the set and threw it to the boy. “I'll swing by and get it after I'm through here.”

The boy grinned. “Thanks, dude.” He left out the front door with a wave.

The kitchen doors squeaked and Zac strolled in. He nodded at Tommy and draped his arm around Lee's shoulders. “You're wet. What'd you do? Walk here?” He reeked of booze.

Lee backed away, shuddering. “I was waiting in the rain for you to open the door. I thought you said to be here at four?” She stood behind one of the tables and tossed her wet coat on the bar counter. The hairs on her arms stood upright and she rubbed her skin with her hands. Tommy followed her movements, and their eyes locked for a moment before Lee looked away.

“Dad said four.” Zac walked to the counter, flipped a spout and filled a plastic glass with foamy golden beer. “I didn't tell you anything. I'm still the manager here.”

The aroma of yeast and hops and lingering stench of astringent chemicals made the nausea rise to her throat. She put her hand over her mouth and swallowed hard, wondering why they called it morning sickness when it was clearly all day sickness.

Tommy unzipped his fleece and handed it to Lee. “Put this on.”

She was about to decline when she shivered again. She took it from his outstretched arm and pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft like a baby's blanket next to her wet skin and his collar smelled of citrus toned aftershave that calmed her nausea. “Thanks.”

He glanced at Lee's water saturated shoes. “Zac, turn on the heat, man.” Tommy wore a dark blue t-shirt with “Los Fuegos” in yellow letters across the chest.

Zac raised his beer glass towards Tommy. “The local hero. Rescues dogs, kids and recent widows.”

Tommy's eyes darted to Lee and she saw him see her with this new information. He spoke in clipped words to Zac with his eyes still on her and his was face dark. “Like I said, turn on the heat.” He turned and the two men stared at each other until Zac shrugged and ambled towards the kitchen.

“The heaters in the back, Lee. When you're running things, you can turn it on yourself.” The doors swung closed.

Tommy scrutinized her face. “You know him before this?”

“High school.”

“You scared of him?”

She averted her eyes so he didn't see she was lying. “No, he just creeps me out.”