Waiting for Daybreak (16 page)

“Ten ought to get us a couple of Happy Meals.”

Paige rummaged through her purse. “Here, I’ve got a twenty. Take it.”

“Oh, I don’t need . . .”

“You never know, Jack might have to work until late. This will give you enough to make it to the store if he doesn’t get home in time.”

Dawn stared at the bill. She knew that if she looked up, she’d see Paige watching her with innocent blue eyes. Eyes she couldn’t face. She turned and started toward the door. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige followed her to the counter. “Those kids are lucky to have you in their lives.”

Long after Dawn left the store, she remembered Paige’s words.

“Those kids are lucky to have you in their lives.” When she looked at Nicole’s huge eyes, sparkling with the thrill of her Happy Meal toy, she walked over and gave her a hug.

Nicole squeezed her tight. “I love you, Dawn.”

“I . . .” Dawn’s throat closed off further response. It was the first time anyone had said those words to her in more than a year. She kissed the top of Nicole’s head. “Want to go get some ice cream?”

chapter
twenty-two

Paige looked at the clock, firmly believing it hadn’t moved in over an hour. Saturdays were always slow, but today felt especially endless. And with little to occupy her, Paige found she had too much time to think about her mother sitting through the six-hour infusion of rituximab today. She could almost feel the nausea and vomiting that had become such a part of her mother’s life, not to mention the too familiar sight of clumps of wavy gray hair on the pillow.

Paige scrubbed the already clean shelves, determined to think of something more cheerful, or at least someone more cheerful. What was Clarissa doing right now?

She pictured Clarissa in Nashville with her friends. They would be gearing up for a big Saturday night on the town by now. Probably primping in some mirror, fussing over each other’s cute outfits and new haircuts. She thought about Dawn and wondered if she was watching cartoons with Jack and his kids, maybe eating popcorn on the floor.

Her own plans for the evening consisted of . . . nothing. Another lonely nothing.

“Hello there. Anybody home?” An oddly familiar male voice floated from the area of the counter.

“Coming.” Paige stood up, wiped her hands on a clean paper towel, and looked toward the voice.

Clarissa’s uncle stood at the counter, dressed in a sports coat, a smile on his face. He looked around the empty store. “Wow. It’s a madhouse in here.”

Paige shrugged. “Slow afternoon, what can I tell you?” She walked to the counter and smiled. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, I had some business down this way. Thought I’d stop by and see if Clarissa and you want to do dinner before I go home.”

“This is her weekend off, sorry you missed her. I’ll tell her you stopped by.”

He continued to stand at the counter. His cheeks colored slightly. “Well, I’m here anyway. What do you say? Dinner?” He scrunched his shoulders and held his hands palm up in a most appealing way.

How was a girl supposed to fight that kind of charm? Besides, there was no danger here. Tony was Clarissa’s uncle, nothing more.

“Well, I . . .” Paige smiled at the gesture, then froze when she realized there was no gold ring on the extended left hand. He was another problem waiting to happen. A big one.

Still, just the thought of another lonely night won the battle against common sense. “Why don’t you follow me over to Sledge? Crockett Twin is having an old movie marathon this weekend. We could grab some pizza and take in
Casablanca
.”

A smile seemed to erupt from deep inside him. “You’re my kind of woman.”

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response, so she stared at the blue countertop.

“How much longer till you close up this popsicle stand?”

Paige looked at the clock. “Fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll go wait in the coffee shop.” He tapped the counter twice in parting, a grin still on his face.

Paige walked over to the mirror. Her untouched lips had faded into her pale skin, making her look like she didn’t have a mouth at all. Obviously Tony was just being polite, because he couldn’t be attracted to this mess of a girl. She brushed her hair and put on some lipstick, just because it made her feel better—not because she wanted to look good for him. Right?

When she walked into the coffee shop Tony stood, smiled, and offered his elbow. “I’ll follow you to your place, you can park your car, and I’ll be the official chauffeur from there.”

Not such a great idea, but how to explain without hurting his feelings? “Um, maybe you should leave your car in the driveway, and we’ll take mine.”

Tony’s chin pulled in a half-inch. “What’s the problem, my car or my driving?”

“Your driving’s fine. The thing is . . . not many people in Sledge drive around in blue Porsches. Bound to get gossip started.”

“I get it. Small-town politics.”

Paige took his offered elbow. “Thanks for understanding.”

A half hour later, they were at her parents’ house, Tony’s Porsche completely out of place in front of the cozy but simple home. As Tony approached, Paige held up a finger. “I need to take the dog for a quick walk before we head out.”

Tony waited for her and she soon reappeared with Dusty. The old dog hobbled in circles around Tony, unsure whether he should be wagging or barking. “What happened to his paw?”

“He got loose one day and went chasing after a delivery truck. It hit him—damaged the nerves in his front leg. He can move it.” Paige held out her hand and said, “Shake.” Dusty stuck his limp paw in her hand. “He just can’t control the bottom joint, or put any weight on it.”

Tony bent down and scratched Dusty under the chin. “Aren’t you the brave young fellow, fighting through all that adversity. Let’s get you out for some fresh air, young man.” Dusty lay down, his tail thumping the ground. Tony laughed. “Or we could just lie right here, I guess.”

“He can’t stand still for long. Between his injury, old age, and arthritis, he’s got to be either moving or lying down. Don’t worry, though, he’ll be game for a little action. Come on, boy.” Dusty pushed to his feet and they headed off.

Tony peppered her with questions as they walked. About Sledge. About her parents’ home. About Paige herself. Unsure how deep she wanted to let him in, she kept her answers short and tried a few of her own questions on him. But they were back at the house before she’d learned too much. After settling Dusty inside, it was finally time for dinner, and they headed to her car. Tony walked around to the passenger door, but instead of opening it, he leaned on it.

“You know, I wasn’t completely honest with you back at the pharmacy. I need to tell you the truth, or I won’t be able to enjoy myself tonight.”

So much for a nice evening. “Okay.”

“I knew.” He looked at his feet and didn’t say more.

“Knew what?”

“That Clarissa was off work today. I knew it. I didn’t have any business down this way either. I drove down ’cause I wanted to take you to dinner. I made up that stuff about looking for Clarissa because I didn’t have the nerve to come right out and ask you.”

He still didn’t look at her. Something about him seemed so lost and lonely.

Just like she was.

Although everything inside screamed at her to stop, Paige reached out and touched his arm. “Your lie may have been the nicest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Tony’s smile reappeared and he put his hand over hers. “I was hoping you’d think so.” He straightened up and opened his door. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

Clarissa looked around the crowded room. The sparse furnishings in hues of black, white, and chrome did little to absorb the cacophony of too many people with too little to say. The twitter of put-on laughter came from some idiotic female behind her—most likely hoping to convince the metrosexual sitting across from her that she would be a fascinating person to spend time with, or at least spend some money on.

“I’ve got to get out of here.”

“What? Come on, the fun’s just getting started.” Kelsey took a sip of her cosmopolitan and leaned a little closer to Reggie, her British transplant about-to-be-husband, whom she’d known all of two months.

“Here, here. Don’t be a wet blanket.” He leaned over and nuzzled Kelsey’s neck, and got a giggle in response.

Definitely time to get out of here.
“I promised Tony I’d stop by for a visit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kelsey.” She adjusted the thin purse strap over her shoulder and walked away, doubting whether Kelsey or Reggie had noticed that she’d gone.

She got into her car and looked at her watch. Ten o’clock. Tony would still be awake and game for a visitor. He always was. Besides, he needed her.

The noise and energy of nightlife faded in her rearview mirror, slowly replaced by the quiet of well-established neighborhoods whose occupants worked too hard and played too little. No thanks. Clarissa’s condo with a view was just fine—who needed four thousand square feet to maintain and expansive lawns to tend? It was all so . . . upper-middle-class homey. Boring.

The windows on the front side of Tony’s brick house were dark when she pulled into the driveway. Surely he wasn’t in bed already. Well, if he was, he’d just have to get up and quit being such a party pooper. It was Saturday night after all. She’d make him get up and watch a midnight movie, just to prove he could. She rang the doorbell and smiled as she began to mentally prepare her lecture about getting old before his time.

Boom-da-boom, boom-da-boom
. The deep thump of a really loud bass pulsed behind her. She turned as a small Mitsubishi screeched to a stop in the driveway across the street, a lanky teenage boy emerging a few seconds later, still playing the air drums as he walked into the house.

Clarissa rolled her eyes and turned back to the door. What was taking Tony so long? She rang again. And again. Finally, she walked around and looked through the window into the garage.

The room was dark, but the light from the streetlamp reflected off the silver metal of a wrench hanging on the back wall, and the handlebars of Tony’s bicycle, which hung from the rafters. In the middle of the room, no reflection lit the area at all, leaving it shrouded in dark. It took her a moment to realize the reason.

Tony’s car wasn’t there.

Strange. He never went out unless he was with her.

She climbed back into her car and called his cell. No answer.

Well, she wasn’t ready to go home yet, so she simply drove around Nashville until she found herself parked across the street from the Lancaster Building. She looked at the façade and tried to picture what the sign would look like out front. Maybe she would hang a shingle, like an old-fashioned doctor’s office. Better yet, maybe she could redo it as close as possible to the way it had looked when her grandmother worked there. Maybe she’d even find some old black-and-white photos of Grandma in her pharmacy days and use them to decorate the walls.

Visions began to form in her mind; how beautiful it was all going to be. It would be the talk of the Parrish Apothecary chains, the elegance of the Nashville store. The shining example of a franchise done right.

Franchise.

The thoughts of the store disappeared behind the memory of the latest weekly reports. While the store revenues were still growing steadily, Paige’s salary was eating such a chunk out of it that there was no way that she would be able to break even by the end of the year. She looked at the building, thought about the homage she wanted to pay to her grandmother. “I can make it work. I’ll just have to work harder, that’s all. That’s what Richardsons always do, they work harder than anyone else, and it shows in their success.”

Clarissa drove back toward home, determined. She could do this. She always pulled through in a crisis. She would sit down tonight, make a plan, and stick it out.

When she walked into her condo, the phone was ringing. “Hey, Sweet Pea. I got your message. Is everything okay?”

“I should ask you the same question. Where are you this late on a Saturday night?”

“Just getting back now. You want to come over?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay put. Where you been, anyway?”

“Oh, you know, I went for a little drive and lost track of time. It’s all part of the senility of being thirty, I think.”

It was not like Tony to avoid answering a direct question, but just now he had. Twice. There could be little doubt he was being intentional about that. What was he trying to hide?

The phone beeped for call waiting. “Tony, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.” She pressed the button. “Hello?”

“Miss Richardson, this is Terry, the night watchman. There’s a man down here in the lobby telling me he’s your uncle and needs to see you right away. I’m saying he don’t look like your uncle to me.”

Clarissa smiled, picturing Tony somehow caught in the trap of an overzealous watchman. No wonder he didn’t want to tell her where he was. “I’ll be right down.” She ran down the stairs, two at a time, laughing the whole way. She flung open the door and saw the watchman standing beside a man she did not recognize. The man, wearing black sweats and an Oakland A’s baseball cap, walked right up to her. “Clarissa Richardson,” he said as he held out a manila envelope, “you have been served.”

Somehow, her hand reached out and took the envelope, but she couldn’t feel the paper in her fingers. They had gone numb.

He nodded at the security guard and said, “Thanks for your help,” then walked out the door.

“Get out of here, you filthy liar.” The guard’s words were plenty loud, but they were much too late. The man had already disappeared.

“Miss Richardson, I am so sorry. I had no idea he was up to something like that. There’s no way I would have called you if I’d known. But I didn’t recognize the guy, and he kept insisting he was your uncle. I didn’t know what else to do but call you.”

Clarissa shook her head. “No, it’s okay.” She pressed the button for the fifth floor, walked zombie-like to her condo, then sat on the couch to open the letter. When she saw the name
Feldhouse
and the words
Zetia
and
Zebeta
situated among the legal jargon, she knew she’d just lost her last hope for the Lancaster Building.