Love Is for the Birds

12. Teddy

TEDDY LOADED PICKLES AND HER FEW GOOD CLOTHES INTO THE Jeep and hit the road for H-Town. She dreaded telling Pops about the trip. He hated the city before her mother died. Now, he doubly hated it. But she needed to tell him of her whereabouts. She’d promised to keep him informed.

Pops picked up the call right away. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“I’m just going to come right out and say it. I’m on my way to Houston.”

Silence. “That so.”

“Daniel thinks I should move back. Like maybe the hurricane was an omen.”

“Just a hurricane, that’s all.” She pulled onto the highway. Pickles whined to put her head out the window. “This wasn’t exactly your average hurricane.”

“Last time I talked to you, you said all you needed was a little paint.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Not what I heard. It’s a sin to lie to your grandfather.”

“Where’d you hear that?

“I have ways of finding things out.”

What ways? How could he possibly know? Tears sprang to her eyes. Now she’d have to add her grandfather to her list of worries. “I’ll handle this. I can’t add to your troubles, not at your—”

“Age!” He shouted into the phone. “I’ll not have you lying to me. I’m not that feeble.”

“But—”

“No buts, you’ve got insurance. I’ve got—”

“I won’t take your money.” She interrupted. “I’ve messed up everything.”

“You think everything is going to be better in Houston, of all places?”

“I can get a regular job, work regular hours.” She added some upspeak to her words to make them sound more exciting.

“You could. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Seeing the flat highway ahead, the miles of parched land, cactus, and mesquite, she could have easily been talked into turning around. But she knew Pops wouldn’t try to talk her into anything.

“You’ll figure everything out. You love Daniel?”

She swallowed. “I . . .”

How do you define love? A good man is like a candy store . . . she heard her mother say. Daniel was no candy store, but her mother’s words of wisdom were likely an impossible fantasy. She didn’t like the way she and Daniel finished his visit to Bird Isle. Maybe a trip to Houston would clear the air.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Pops said. “If I could just play wise old man for a minute . . .” he waited a beat, “think of this as an opportunity. If you decide to rebuild Sweet Somethings, make the shop your place. Not your mother’s. If you decide to stay in Houston, make the move your life, not Daniel’s.”

The words stung. Both her choices—Daniel’s life in Houston, and her mother’s life in Bird Isle—ended with her living someone else’s dream. She ended the call quickly, opened the window for Pickles, and discussed her options with her dog as they drove into Houston.

When she arrived at Daniel’s apartment, she stood a moment. “We’ve arrived.” The dog let out a whimper. “It’s okay, girl. You’ll like Daniel,” Teddy lied.

The door swung open. Teddy stiffened. “I thought I heard something,” Daniel said. He started to hug Teddy but stopped when Pickles yapped and pawed at Daniel’s khaki pants. “What the—”

“Stop that, Pickles. You know better than that.” Teddy tugged Pickles’s leash.

Daniel muttered another curse. He perused his apartment as if counting the number of items about to be destroyed by Pickles—white sectional, glossy, polished floors, delicate glass vases, and a platter of cheese, crackers, and olives. Pickles sniffed the baseboard and started squatting. Teddy jerked her leash and pulled her out into the hall.

Daniel put both hands in the air and said, “Okay, okay. You didn’t tell me you were bringing a dog.”

Of course, she brought Pickles. For one thing, all the boarding facilities in Bird Isle were destroyed. Daniel had to know that. He’d just been there.

“She’s just excited. She’ll calm down.”

Daniel clenched his jaw and got that huffy expression on his face that always appeared when things were not going perfectly. Teddy lifted Pickles’s crate and unfolded it. Daniel unclenched his jaw.

She settled Pickles in the crate in the laundry room. “It’s just for a little while, Pickles. Just until Daniel here gets used to the idea.”

Daniel gave her a weak smile. Then he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry how everything ended.”

Daniel handed her white wine in a chilled goblet and led her to the balcony. His apartment overlooked the skyline of Houston where the glossy facades of the buildings turned violet and pink from the setting sun. She’d forgotten the magic of the city at night.

“The view never ceases to amaze me,” she said.

“I hoped you’d feel that way.” Daniel took the wine from her hand and set the drink on a shiny glass and metal table. He pulled her to him and kissed her. A hand trailed down her back to her bottom. The memory of Jack’s arms around her flashed into her mind.

Daniel pulled back from the kiss. “I’ve missed that.”

Geez. Why was she thinking about Jack?

“How about a do-over?” Daniel asked. “Starting with Kim Son.”

“My favorite.” She bit her lip. “But . . . I don’t . . .”

“I want this night to be special.”

She dropped onto a chair. “If you insist.”

She opened the large menu and read again the story of the family who founded the restaurant. They’d operated a successful business in Vietnam before the communists seized their restaurant in 1975. The family lived off the black market until 1979, when they escaped Vietnam in a wooden ship. Two days after sailing, a Malaysian vessel captured their boat. The Malaysians towed the family to a remote island in Indonesia. After eight months of fending for themselves, they managed to get to Houston with only $2,500 to their names. Eventually, by borrowing money from relatives, they opened Kim Son in 1982.

Tears flooded her eyes. Lots of people in the world go through tragedies. She fanned herself with the menu.

Daniel leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

She pointed to the history of the restaurant on the menu.

Daniel said, “When the communists invaded Vietnam many of the Vietnamese came to Houston. In fact, Houston has the largest population of Vietnamese in the country. When they—”

“Got it.” Teddy motioned for him to stop. “The point is, they’ve been through hell, and here they are now.”

A member of the waitstaff took their order, and when she asked for the menu, Teddy asked if she could keep the menu for a minute. She read the story again. If the recipes for Kim Son could travel across the South China Sea to a remote island in Indonesia, and finally to Houston, her mother’s recipes could survive a hurricane.

Across the table, between bites, Daniel listed all of his Type A plans, which led down a straight road to a heart attack by age forty.

“Don’t you see?” She interrupted him mid-sentence, something about oil prices—talk about an omen. “I was meant to be here tonight to read the story of the Kim family. It’s like . . . I don’t know . . . that the universe is sending me a message.”

“ Puh-leeze. ” Daniel’s eyes rolled upward. “If you believe that sort of thing.” He grabbed the tiny purple umbrella of his Mai Tai and tore the crepe paper from the tiny toothpick blades. “I don’t.”

“That’s right, you don’t. Sometimes things can’t be explained by facts and figures. You don’t believe me. That’s okay. You and I are just—different.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been.” Daniel took a slug of his drink. “When people go through a tragedy like you have, they tend to let their emotions cloud their judgment, or they let their emotions paralyze—”

“I’ve experienced an epiphany.” If he offered one more mansplaination, she couldn’t be responsible for her actions. “You’re right, the hurricane was not my fault. The drunk driver, I don’t know. If I let mother’s recipes die with her, that’s on me.”

“What’re you saying?” Daniel’s mouth hung open with a slice of beef still dangling in the tips of his chopsticks.

Sure, her mother created Sweet Somethings. But she could combine her style with her mother’s. The crazy storm provided her a chance to rebuild Sweet Somethings. As for Daniel, he deserved better.

“I waited for you this past year,” he muttered. “You promised to move back.”

“I thought I’d come back. I really did. I’m sorry.” She touched his hand, and he pulled away. “You know I’m right. You don’t like dogs, the beach, the sand.” She paused for a beat. “I do.”

“Are you going to become a barbecue king’s wife?”

“No!” She shouted. The people at the table next to them jerked their heads in Teddy’s direction. “Sorry, sorry.” She waved at them apologetically before turning to Daniel. “I’m going to make my own place and honor my mother at the same time.” She nabbed a piece of shrimp, dipped the morsel in sauce, and dropped the bite into her mouth. “With Mother’s recipes, of course. But the store will be mine. Mother would have wanted that.”