Love Is for the Birds

8. Jack

JACK WATCHED WHILE LARRY, THE PIT MASTER AT ANGIE’S PLACE Pit Barbecue Llano, donned a pair of elbow-length silicon gloves and loaded mesquite into the barbecue pit. A bowl of Larry’s new rub sat on the carving table.

“You’ve got to try this—brown sugar, paprika, garlic, onion, oregano.” He kissed his fingers. “Perfection.”

Jack dipped in finger in it. “You don’t think the seasoning needs cayenne?”

Larry grinned. “Pops Wainsworth is in the dining room. He wandered back here to see if we were smoking his beef today. I told him we started buying beef from China.” Larry moved a rack of ribs with his tongs. “You should’ve seen his face.”

“I can just picture it.” Jack shuddered. “It would be a lot cheaper.” He admired a cut of brisket, perfectly marbled. Folks drove from miles away to eat his barbecue. They’d definitely notice the difference.

“I hear people in Austin stand in line for hours just to eat Franklin’s Barbecue.”

Larry patted his forehead with his red bandanna.

“They’ve never tasted ours,” Jack said, believing he could beat Franklin’s in a cook-off any day. Maybe he’d suggest that idea to Teddy for a fundraiser at the beach.

For a split second, a lump formed in his throat. He’d thought about another woman here in the place he and Angela built. All of his restaurants brought back memories. Each time he opened one, Angela decorated the stores. She helped at the register. Pictures of him and Angela hung on the walls: Jack and Angela at the grand opening of the Llano store, Jack and Angela kissing under a banner that said, “The Best Barbecue East or West of the Pecos,” Jack and Angela stacking mesquite behind the pits. Now, her ghost lurked everywhere. He spent way too much time thinking about the past and his perfect marriage to Angela. No matter how much and how often he thought about her, he couldn’t bring her back. Her picture papering the walls of his businesses didn’t help.

He pushed through the swinging doors and into the dining room where diners crowded the six twelve-foot-long picnic tables in the middle of the room, and the two and four-seater booths lining the perimeter. He always loved seeing a crowd.

Wainsworth sat in a two-seater booth with a plate of chicken, sausage, coleslaw, and banana pudding. His signature Stetson hung from a hook on a post next to the table. He wore a turquoise pearl-snap-button-cowboy shirt, starched Lee jeans, and water-buffalo-hide boots.

“It’s a bad sign when the rancher doesn’t eat his own beef,” Jack said, sliding into the booth..

“Believe me or not, it’s possible to get tired of beef. Morning, noon, and night, that’s all I ever see. Maybe I’ll start raising hogs.” The old man wiped his lips and gray handlebar mustache with his napkin. “Besides, they say beef isn’t good for you.”

“Aren’t you ninety?”

“Yup.”

“Little late to stop now, don’t you think?”

“Larry said you’ve been to Bird Isle.”

Jack cleared the smile from his face and said, “It’s worse than I imagined. Not as bad as Port Aransas—”

Pops widened his eyes and frowned. “Worse? How much worse? How bad is it?”

“Most of the businesses are wiped out,” Jack said.

“That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. I hear you’re going back.”

“Where’d you here that?”

“It may be a big county, but news travels fast. I want you to check on someone for me.” Pops took a long drink of iced tea.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a lady friend down at Bird Isle. I need lessons from you, old man.”

“That’s just it, I’m an old man, and the durn doctor doesn’t want me driving that far. In fact, if he knew I drove here, he’d call the troopers.” He sawed off a piece of sausage. “I should be driving down there to help my granddaughter—”

“You can’t really get in there just yet. Although I suspect you’d find a way if you needed to.”

“You know me quite well. In fact, I consider you a friend.” He took a long breath.

“Sure, I’ll check on your granddaughter. What’s her name?”

“Name’s Theodora, but we call her Teddy.”

Jack hadn’t seen that coming. His stomach spun like a carnival ride. What now? “I met her.” He chewed on his bottom lip.

“Why do you have that expression on your face? Is she all right?”

Jack put a hand in the air and said, “Fine, she’s fine.” He muttered. “Better than fine.”

“What’d you say? Old ears.” Pops pointed to his ears.

“I said she’s fine.”

“I heard that. Don’t play games with me just because you’re a few years younger than I am.” Pops’s face turned stern.

“No, sir. I said, she’s better than fine.”

Pops smiled. “She’s pretty as a newborn filly, and feisty, too. I worry about her. All alone in the world, except for me.” He waited for a beat and added, “The thing is, she wouldn’t want me checking up on her. She’s independent that way.”

Jack nodded. “I noticed.”

Pops removed his wallet from his pocket and presented a dollar bill with the words Sweet Somethings’s First Dollar written in magic marker over Washington’s face. “This is the first dollar she made after her mother died. She’s telling me everything is fine. That Sweet Somethings just needs a little paint. You’re telling me that’s not true?”

Jack hesitated.

“I don’t have time to waste.” Wainsworth patted his heart.

Jack described Teddy’s house and the store. As he talked, the lines on Pops’s face multiplied.

“Let’s not mention this conversation.” Wainsworth stuffed the bill back in his wallet.

Jack reached across the table and shook his hand. How much time did the old man have left?

“Do whatever you can to get her back on her feet. Say a dollar a pound off my beef, would that be worth your while?”

“A dollar a pound. That’s some discount. How many pounds you talking about?”

Pops stroked his chin. “You sell about 20,000 pounds per year.”

“I couldn’t accept that.”

“I’d feel better if you accepted something. She’s important to me. How about a thousand? That covers some of your expenses.”

“Fine. If you insist. I will accept the money as a hurricane donation.” If Jack wanted to support Bird Isle, he needed to raise money. “Exactly what am I supposed to do?”

“Find out what she needs. Keep me in the loop.” Pops wrapped a piece of chicken in white bread, placed a pickle on top of it, and then doused the sandwich in barbecue sauce.

Jack thought of Pickles, and the crazy way he and Teddy met. He laughed.

“Something funny?” Pops chomped off a bite of his sandwich.

“She’s got a rescue dog named Pickles. I drove all the way to Bird Isle with barbecue but no pickles or onions. You can’t eat barbecue without pickles and onions.”

“So true. How is that funny?”

“I met Teddy and asked her if she knew where I could get pickles. She said she did. To my surprise, her kitchen shelves with the pickles were still standing.”

Wainsworth perked up with a broad smile. “Those pickles are my mother’s recipe.”

“Teddy credited you.” Jack saluted him “So, then, when we found this dog, we named her Pickles.”

“It sounds like you’ve gotten quite friendly with Teddy.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Jack cleared his throat.

“What would you say?”

Wainsworth wasn’t going to let this go.

“I’ve spent some time with her. I’m not going to lie to you. I like her. But she’s got a boyfriend. And I have Angela. You’re up-to-date.” Jack’s gaze went to the pictures on the wall.

“I don’t mean to be cruel, Jack. But Angela’s gone. She’d want you to move on. You’re a young man.” Pops pointed to the pictures.

“Maybe so.”

“I don’t think much of this Daniel. I met him at my daughter’s funeral. I guess he’s a decent man. But not for my Teddy. I pegged him as all hat and no cattle, if you know what I mean.”

“It doesn’t seem like Teddy’s friends think much of him either. But she says he’s her boyfriend.”

“Well, then . . . if you don’t take a liking to her, that’s fine. I’m not asking you to marry her.” He gave Jack a half smile. “Yet.” Another pause. His eyes narrowed. “Ah, hell. I’m not going to lie to you. Like I said, I haven’t got long in this world. I’d like Teddy to end up with a nice, trustworthy man. She deserves it. You’ve been a widow how many years now?”

“Five.”

“I don’t believe the dead expect you to die with them. Do you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got a whole life ahead of you,” Wainsworth said. “You get my drift, son?”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“Teddy would make someone a fine wife and vice versa.” Pops turned to the photos again. “Just a thought.”

“This is the United States. We don’t have arranged marriages here.”

“No one said anything about an arranged marriage. You believe in synchronicity?”

“Try me?”

“A series of fortuitous and seemingly unrelated events that end up with the universe winking at you with a nod. First, I hear you’ve been to Bird Isle, then I learn you met Teddy your first day in Bird Isle, and whether you admit your status or not, I know you’re available.”

A devilish smirk formed on Pops’s face.

“Any other pieces of advice you have for me, Obi Wan?”

“Might be time to take those pictures down.” Pops cocked his head toward the wall. “And change the name of this barbecue stand.”

The words stung. “That’s my wife.” The words spurted out of Jack.

“You mean she was your wife. Nobody’s gonna change that,” Pops said. “Time goes by like that.” Wainsworth snapped his fingers. “One day you’re a handsome lug with muscles and plenty of life, the next day you’re staring at the runway.”

“I can’t, not yet.” Jack shook his head.

“Just remember what I said about time.” Pops rose and slapped Jack on the shoulder. “To quote a movie from my era, ‘I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”