Undone (A Country Roads Novel) (9 page)
“You ready?” Tara asked from the doorway.
“Yeah,” Paige said, standing up and stretching. “I’m starving.” Apparently killing off beloved cartoon characters worked up an appetite in a person.
“Good.” Tara grinned. “It’s always best to go to Lula Mae’s when you’re hungry.”
“Isn’t that who made those scones?” Paige asked as she followed Tara down the stairs.
“Yes. But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
* * *
Café Lula was on the beach. It was a renovated cottage painted in bright colors. The door was turquoise, the shutters yellow, the eaves and roof lilac, and the building itself salmon. A large green sign that read C
AFÉ
L
ULA
in big, black letters hung from the overhang above the door.
Paige followed Tara up the green steps and through the front door. A bell rang as they entered. The inside of the shop had the same bright colors as the outside. The hardwood floors were blond, the walls were turquoise, and the doors and windows were yellow. The tables and chairs that were scattered around the café were all painted in a variety of colors. And the entire shop smelled like apples baked with vanilla and cinnamon.
“Wow,” Paige said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “That smells incredible.”
“Why, thank you.”
Paige opened her eyes to see a woman coming from around the corner. She had white hair cut in choppy layers all around her head and framing her face. She was ample everywhere, but it worked with her kind face and bright blue eyes.
“Lula Mae, this is Paige. Paige, Lula Mae.”
“A pleasure,” Lula Mae said, sticking out her hand.
“I had some of your scones,” Paige said, shaking her hand. “They were amazing.”
“I’d like to take credit for those, but my granddaughter Gracie makes most of the pastries,” she said, indicating a petite blonde in a pink T-shirt who was behind the register and taking care of some customers.
“Where are the twins?” Tara asked, making her way to one of the display cases.
“On the way,” Lula Mae said, going behind the counter. “Paige, what would you like to drink?”
“Try the mango sweet tea,” Tara said. “It’s divine.”
“Sounds good,” Paige said, looking at Lula Mae.
“Just pick whatever you want in there,” Lula Mae said, pointing to the display case that Tara was hovering over.
“It’s all made fresh,” Tara said when Paige came up next to her.
They had chicken salad made with fruit and nuts on croissants, tomato and mozzarella on focaccia, and roast beef on French bread.
The bell rang again and Paige turned to see two short, thin women walking through the door. They were both in their midfifties with strawberry-blonde hair, big green eyes, and large chests, but that was where their similarities stopped.
One of them wore her hair very short and had gelled the strands to stick up all over her head like a stylish porcupine. Her eyebrows had been waxed within an inch of their lives, and she wore so much green eye shadow that it was ridiculous. She had on a tie-dye T-shirt, a black leather biker vest, and jeans. The other wore her hair longer, her big, thick curls brushing the top of her shoulders. Her eyebrows were still intact and her lips were as red as a cherry. She wore a green dress circa 1950 that made her look like Lucille Ball.
“I don’t know,” Porcupine said. “He just can’t be
that
oblivious.”
“Oh, I think he can be,” the Lucille look-a-like said, sounding a little agitated.
They both looked over to the display and spotted Tara and then they zeroed in on Paige.
“Paige,” Tara said, grabbing her arm and pulling her along to the duo. “These are the twins. Pinky,” she said, indicating Porcupine with her hand. “And Panky Player,” she said, moving her hand in the direction of the Lucille look-a-like.
“And this is Paige,” Tara continued with her introductions.
“Nice to meet you,” Paige said, shaking their hands in turn.
“They both work part time at the funeral home. Pinky does the hair and makeup for the deceased, but she also owns a hair salon. And Panky does all of the flowers for the funeral home but she also has her own shop. They’re Lula Mae’s cousins.”
“How are you liking the funeral home?” Panky asked.
“I’m still settling in,” Paige said.
“Wait until I tell you guys about Verna,” Tara said excitedly.
“You better wait for us before you talk about anything,” Lula Mae said from behind the counter. “Gracie and I want to hear all about this too.”
Someone else took over Grace’s position at the register. She came around the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. She had bright blue eyes and light blonde hair. A few pieces of her hair had fallen out of her low ponytail and framed her heart-shaped face. She had a light tan, like she was used to spending lots of time in the sun with sunscreen.
“So you’re Paige,” Grace said, her eyes lighting up as she stuck out her hand. “I’m Grace.”
“Your scones were delicious,” Paige said, unable to think of anything else. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about meeting a bunch of new people. She’d made friends easily enough before moving down here. Maybe it was her bad luck with first impressions these days.
“Thanks.” Grace laughed and pointed to the display case. “What do you want for lunch?”
“The chicken salad,” Paige said.
“Make that two,” Panky said.
“I’ll have the roast beef,” Pinky said, walking over to a large round table tucked into the corner of the shop. She hung her purse on the back of one of the chairs and sat down.
“Tomato and mozzarella,” Tara said, following Pinky.
“Coming right up,” Grace said, heading behind the counter to get their lunches ready.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, all six women sat around the table laughing loudly. Paige was finishing her incredible sandwich while Tara told everyone about Verna and her rather loud objections to Paige. She’d just done a spot-on imitation of Verna’s outburst that morning.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Pinky said, slapping the table.
Panky and Grace were laughing so hard they couldn’t speak.
“She’s nuts,” Lula Mae said, taking another bite of her chicken salad sandwich.
“You’ve got her all in twist,” Tara said, leaning back in her chair. “I even saw her screaming at Brendan yesterday.”
“Why was she screaming at Brendan?” Panky asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“Because he got me the job,” Paige said, before she even realized she was speaking.
Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at Paige.
“Brendan?” Grace asked, breaking the silence. “Brendan King?”
“Yeah,” Paige said, shifting in her chair. “He, uh, did me a favor.”
“Well, that was nice of him,” Lula Mae said.
“Where did you see her screaming at him?” Pinky asked Tara.
“At the funeral home, when he came to pick up Paige,” Tara said, letting the corner of her mouth quirk up.
Paige had the urge to kick Tara under the table.
“Why was he picking you up from work?” Panky asked, her eyes going wide as she leaned over the table.
“My Jeep’s been in the shop,” Paige said, trying to affect a nonchalant tone, which she was horribly unsuccessful at pulling off because her cheeks were flaming.
“Right,” Grace said skeptically.
“Who wants dessert?” Lula Mae asked, taking pity on Paige and changing the subject. “Grace made apple pie.”
“Yes, please,” came the chorus from everyone around the table.
“Sit down, Grams,” Grace said, standing up. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ll help.” Paige stood up and followed Grace through a swinging door.
The small kitchen was tame, with yellow and blue tiles on the floor and climbing up two-thirds of the wall where they stopped and a light blue paint continued and reached up to the ceiling. Pale yellow shelves were in one corner, organizing all of the dishes. Stainless-steel countertops and appliances took up the rest of the space.
“Here,” Grace said, going to the freezer and pulling out a container. “You can put the ice cream on the pie.” Grace opened a drawer and handed Paige an ice cream scoop and then went to grab a stack of plates. “So,” Grace said, pulling out a knife from a wooden block, “how are you liking it down here?”
“The last couple of days have been way more pleasant than the last couple of months,” Paige said honestly.
“Even with Verna?” Grace asked, cutting the pie.
“Even with Verna.”
“So you haven’t made a lot of friends around here?” Grace asked and handed Paige a plate with pie on it.
“Not exactly.”
“Well, I can tell you that all of those women in that room are glad you’re here. And so am I. We meet up for lunch every Thursday. You should come with Tara from now on.”
“Thank you,” Paige said, taken aback, a smile quickly growing on her face. So maybe she was still capable of making good first impressions. That was a relief.
“What are you doing on Sunday?” Grace asked, handing Paige another plate.
“No plans.”
“I’m going to the beach with a couple of friends around eleven. And if you come over to my grandparents’ early, you can have some of Grams’ amazing breakfast.”
“Really? What time?”
“I’ll pick you up around nine thirty.”
“Alright.” Paige nodded. “I’m in. It sounds like fun.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.”
F
riday went by uneventfully, except for the banging that traveled upstairs. The entire downstairs had been stripped of the carpet and they were now working on the rooms next to Paige. She’d shoved a pair of headphones into her ears and turned up her iPod to drown out the noise.
She’d figured out most of the nuances of the tribute program. Then she’d moved over to the Web site, trying to figure out ways to make it better, which she worked on until she’d left work that evening.
On Saturday, Paige got up early to run and then spent the afternoon in her art studio/shed while her parents worked in the yard. Her parents owned a three-bedroom house on the river. They’d bought it for the hardwood floors, big bay windows, and the massive backyard. Denise and Trevor had always dreamed of having a big yard when they retired, and now they did.
Half a dozen large oak trees were scattered in the yard, and rose bushes and wisteria surrounded them. Jasmine climbed up the lattice over the back porch, and honeysuckle grew all along the fence. Paige’s parents had put in pavers to create a path through the grass, and built a deck right on the water. It was their little oasis.
When Paige had moved in, her father had moved all of the stuff out of the shed and into the garage so that Paige could have an art studio. It was a small building with a window on the back wall. Shelves covered one wall, while another housed a sink and a tiny counter.
She’d quickly made it her own space, painting the inside walls a lime green, filling the shelves with her painting supplies, hanging white lace curtains over the window, and putting up that blessed fan. The outside of the shed matched her parents’ house, white with blue trim, and one side of it was covered in lattice wound with jasmine. Her parents had been kind enough to give her a little oasis of her own.
* * *
On Sunday morning, Paige woke up to a clear blue sky. She pulled on her bathing suit, a tank top, and a pair of running shorts. She threw a big beach towel, sunscreen, some lip gloss, and a book into her beach bag and headed into the kitchen.
“You leaving soon?” Trevor asked over his newspaper.
“Yeah, in about five minutes,” Paige said, grabbing a plastic bottle from the cupboard and filling it with ice water.
The doorbell rang and Paige heard her mother answer the door. Grace laughed as she walked into the kitchen with Denise.
“You tell your grandmother that I’m going to go down and get some of that chicken pot pie of hers. I’ve never had anything that amazing in my life.”
“I’ll tell her. Hi, Mr. Morrison.” Grace waved from the doorway.
“Hello. Have you and your grandmother been busy?” he asked over his coffee cup.
“Lately we have been. What about you? How’s everything going here?”
“Pretty good. Retirement is mighty fine.”
“You girls have fun,” Denise said, sitting down at the table next to Trevor.
“We will,” Paige said, walking over to her parents and kissing them on the cheeks. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Love you, Little Miss,” Trevor called after her as they walked out of the kitchen.
“Little Miss?” Grace asked, looking at her.
“Nickname that I’ve had all my life,” Paige said while slipping on her leather flip-flops.
Five minutes later, they pulled into Lula Mae’s driveway. The sound of a lawn mower greeted them as they got out of Grace’s vintage yellow Volkswagen Bug. Paige followed Grace up the steps to a whitewashed beach house with a red roof and a screened-in front porch.