Chapter 9 #2
“I’m going to keep the drumsticks and fries warm for a bit to give the guys some more time.” She turned her head at the sound of crunching gravel. “Is that someone coming down the drive?” She went to the window. “Oh, crap.”
“Is there a problem?”
Meghan sighed. “No, not really. Remember I said some of Rick’s friends would make your ears bleed? Well, Calvin is one of them. And he’s probably brought his wife along, and she’s a total … Seriously, I’ve got wet sponges in my sink that have more personality.”
“Maybe your husband invited them?”
“Not without telling me, he didn’t. We don’t socialize if I can help it.” She tossed her oven mitt on the table and headed for the door. “Let’s see if I can get rid of them.” Clare followed, Ethan content for the moment to snuggle into her side.
The ear-bleeder and his wet-sponge wife were getting out of their pickup as Meghan descended to the patio. The man squinted at Clare suspiciously, then turned his attention to Meghan. “I gotta speak to Rick. It’s business.”
Meghan crossed her arms. “Well, you should have made an appointment, then, Calvin. We’ve got guests, and Rick’s out shooting with this lady’s husband.”
“This is important. Go get him.”
Clare didn’t think you had to be raised by Grandmother Fergusson to recognize that level of sheer rudeness.
She glanced at the wife, who was standing next to the still-open passenger door.
Drab hair, forgettable clothes; the only thing about her that stood out was how much younger she seemed than her husband.
It looked like Calvin had found her in high school.
“I’m not your wife, Calvin. You can’t order me around.” Meghan nodded toward the truck. “No offense, Tiny.” The woman half shrugged before letting her hands fall again. “You can tell me what you need, or you can leave him a voice mail, but I’m not interrupting him.”
Calvin set his face in a look of pained indulgence. “I need to borrow some of his construction equipment. Okay?”
“Then leave him a message. I can’t let anything off the property without him checking it out. Some of that equipment needs a special license to operate.”
Calvin’s mouth pinched and his hands tightened. Clare settled Ethan farther behind her and shifted so the baby would be out of the way if Calvin exploded.
Instead, he breathed out and relaxed his fists. “I’ll write him a note. You got pen and paper?”
“This way.” Meghan rolled her eyes as she crossed in front of Clare. Calvin glared at her again as he followed her hostess into the kitchen. As soon as the door shut, Clare came all the way down to the gravel drive.
“Hi. I’m Clare.”
The woman’s eyes darted for a second, as if trying to spot the person Clare was talking to. “Um. I’m Tiny.”
“Nice to meet you.” Clare stepped closer to the woman, and she could finally see why Tiny hadn’t moved from the truck cab—there was a car seat with a slumbering baby inside. “Oh my goodness.” Clare peeked around the door. “How old?”
“She’s eight months.”
“So is Ethan!” Clare rucked her son more squarely on her hip. He buried his head in her neck. “He’s starting to get shy with strangers.”
Tiny smiled a little. “Mine, too. I mean, she don’t see too many people anyhow, but…”
“Are you working? Does she do day care? We’re talking about finding some part-time for Ethan.”
“Oh, no. No, my job’s staying home with my little one. And, you know, making sure I keep Cal happy.”
Clare gave her a wildly exaggerated wink. “Oh, really?”
The woman giggled, then pressed her hand over her mouth. After a moment, she said, “Well, we’re trying right now. Cal says he wants to have lots of babies.”
“Yeah, I notice it’s often the ones who don’t have to give birth who are keen on big families.”
Tiny giggled again. “You got that right! If men had to squeeze one of these out, there wouldn’t be no humans left.”
“Tiny! Get back in the truck!”
The woman’s face wiped clean of emotion as her husband stomped down the steps. She hoisted herself into the passenger seat. “Nice to meet you,” Clare called as the door swung shut. Calvin glared at her yet again as he swung up onto the driver’s side. She smiled sweetly and waved.
Meghan joined her as the pickup reversed into the parking area and drove off. “What a jackass. He wrote a note and then sealed it inside an envelope. I told him Rick and I don’t keep secrets from each other, but no, it’s men’s business.”
“I was chatting with his wife.”
“She actually talked to you? That’s a miracle.”
“I’m not sure keeping quiet is her choice. I don’t think they’ve got a very healthy marriage.”
Meghan gestured toward the kitchen. “Can’t say I’m surprised. He doesn’t seem to like women at all. How he ever found someone to marry him is a mystery to me.” She held the door open for Clare.
“I think he snatched her up before she got a chance to meet anyone she could compare him to.”
“You know, I think you’re right. One mystery solved.” Meghan lifted a rawhide cord threaded through a silver whistle from the key hooks by the kitchen door. “Okay, I’m hungry. Let’s whistle up our men.” She stepped outside and blew three piercing blasts.
“Should we start bringing the food to the table?”
“No. It’ll stay warmer inside. If they’re showing off to each other, it might take ’em a while.” Meghan descended the steps to the patio.
Clare joined her at the table. Between the sunshine and the heaters, it was more comfortable than the over-warm kitchen.
Ethan crowed with pleasure as he began cruising the low wall.
It made her think of the baby strapped in the car seat.
“Tiny said she and her husband are trying for another. I can’t imagine having a newborn and a”—she did the mental math—“baby less than a year and a half. That seems like a lot of work.”
Meghan dunked a piece of bread into the hot dip. “I guarantee you that’s his idea, not hers. Calvin’s got this dumb idea that if white women have enough babies, we can stop the illegals from taking over our country.”
“Wha-at?”
“I know!” Meghan popped the bread into her mouth. “There are like, what, five hundred million people living down there? The way to keep Americans from being replaced is to stop ’em hard at the border, not to turn women into baby machines.”
“Um. If immigrants become legal, though, then they are Americans.”
Meghan shook her head. “You know what I mean. Real Americans. Like us. They bring ’em into this country, set ’em up with money and apartments and cars and stuff, and then they own them. They can make ’em do anything they want.”
Clare didn’t really want to ask, but something compelled her. “They?”
“The Jews.” Meghan dunked another piece of bread into the dip.
Clare looked out to the tree line, where Russ still hadn’t shown up. Honey, have you checked in with Mom?