Chapter 29 Ilsa
Ilsa
The most popular place on Saturday mornings in Dalton, Montana, was the Grizzly Café. Something I’d learned in the past three weeks.
Breakfast here had become a fledgling tradition for Cosi, Spencer and me. We’d sleep in and enjoy a cup of coffee on the couch. Then whenever Spencer rolled out of bed, the three of us would walk to the café for eggs and bacon and their famous banana bread French toast.
Conversation filled the restaurant with a boisterous buzz. Every seat was taken. We’d been lucky enough to snag a booth this morning, which meant I got to sit tucked into Cosi’s side. His arm was draped over my shoulders, his fingers idly drumming on the booth’s caramel vinyl.
The wall of windows beside us overlooked Main, and as cars and trucks rolled down the street, Spencer built a pyramid out of the individual jelly packets.
A couple of his classmates were in the café this morning.
Amanda was sitting with her family at a table in the center of the room.
Nicole was at the counter with her grandpa.
Both girls had given Spencer shy smiles when we’d walked into the café, but other than a jerk of his chin, he’d hardly acknowledged either.
Those poor girls probably thought that cool attitude was their doing, when really, it was because he had a lot on his mind.
“You don’t have to go,” Cosi told him. “If you’re nervous.”
“I’m not.” Spencer added a grape jelly to his stack.
Cosi and I shared a look, both hearing that lie.
That kid was a ball of nerves.
“So I’ve been thinking about my car,” I said as Spencer kept stacking, totally lost in his own head. “I’m giving it to you for your birthday.”
Spencer’s eyes whipped up, and he bumped the table with his elbow, his pyramid crumbling. “W-what?”
While I loved my little green Rabbit, I mostly drove Dad’s truck. So over our morning coffee, Cosi and I had talked about giving the car to Spencer.
He was almost fifteen, and when they gave him that shiny new driver’s license, he’d need a vehicle. It didn’t make sense for me to sell a perfectly good car.
“If you want it, then it’s yours,” I said.
“I want it.” His smile was contagious.
“Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks, Ilsa.”
I winked. “Welcome, bud.”
Even though his birthday wasn’t until Tuesday, Cosi and I figured telling him today might chase away the sullen mood we’d been dealing with for weeks. And we hoped that it might give Spencer and Gwen something to talk about when they met later today.
We were all grateful Gwen had been there that horrible day three weeks ago. Had she not found me so soon and gotten me to the hospital, I might not have survived the poison.
But three weeks was a short time to overcome years of abandonment.
Gwen and Cosi had met once, last week, to talk. She’d asked if Spencer would be up for a picnic lunch over the weekend.
When Cosi had posed the question, Spencer had shocked us all by agreeing. Though given his grumpy mood today, I suspected he wanted to take it back.
“Dad?” Spencer went back to stacking jellies. “Did she tell you where she was? After she left Dalton?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Cosi gave his son a sad smile. “Not in a good place.”
During their meeting, she’d told Cosi about the years she’d spent away from Dalton.
She’d moved from place to place, coast to coast, sampling a variety of drugs along the way.
Until a year ago, when she’d gone to rehab and turned her life around.
After she’d climbed up from rock bottom, Gwen had realized it was time to face her mistakes. It was time to apologize to her son.
“Do you think she’ll stay in Montana?” Spencer asked.
“I don’t know, pal. I think right now, she’s just hoping for a nice picnic.”
“Whatever,” Spencer muttered with an eye roll.
We’d had a lot of whatevers and eye rolls this week.
“Morning, Sheriff.” Dawn, the waitress, appeared, setting down three glasses of water. “Hi, Ilsa. Sorry for the wait.”
“Hey, Dawn. No problem. We’re not in a rush.”
“Still up for pinochle tomorrow?”
“As long as you promise to be my partner.”
“Deal.” She smiled, tucking a lock of her strawberry-blond hair behind her ear.
Dawn and I had bonded that afternoon that I’d come to the café for the first time and had a hot beef sandwich at four thirty in the afternoon. She’d called earlier this week to invite me to her pinochle club.
The girls met on Sundays for a few hours, and though I hadn’t played the card game in ages, I really liked Dawn and wanted the chance to meet her friends. Women who might become my friends too.
“Okay, are you ready to order?” she asked, taking out her notepad.
We rattled off our breakfast orders, and as she rushed away, Cosi picked up a water.
He took a sip, eyes narrowing as he gave it a good taste.
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “Give me that.”
He deemed my water safe and handed it over.
“This is getting ridiculous, Cosi.”
Ridiculous, considering ricin was tasteless and there would have been no way to know Trick had poisoned my water. Still, Cosi had been drinking my waters for three weeks. Unless he filled the glass himself, he took the first sip.
But despite my grumbling, Cosi would keep tasting my water and my food until the day that Trick Dougan was found and put behind bars.
We were each healing in our own ways.
According to Dr. Harris, there’d been no permanent damage to my internal organs, and he expected me to make a full recovery. I felt fine, physically. Emotionally? I was still coming to terms with it all.
Now that the journal and atlas were gone, along with my briefcase, I could no longer read the last letter Dad had written to me.
I couldn’t look at his handwriting or touch the pages he’d filled himself.
I couldn’t drink out of a jar, not that Cosi would have let me.
Those pieces of Dad were lost and ruined.
All because of Trick. Even thinking his name sent me into a rage. If I had to drive past the bar, well . . . I didn’t. I used the back roads because I couldn’t even look at the dark building without getting angry.
The bar was closed at the moment. It had been since the day Trick filled my water jar and handed it to Cosi, knowing he’d deliver it to the school.
The rumor around town was that someone was trying to track down Sully, Trick’s partner, but even if they reopened, even if there was a different face behind the bar, I doubted I’d ever set foot in that building again.
Cosi wouldn’t tell me everything they’d found when they went to Trick’s house, either because he couldn’t share details of an open investigation or because he was trying to protect me. Given just how tight-lipped he’d been, it couldn’t have been good.
So I was doing everything in my power to put it behind me. I was trying, every day, to move on.
“What time is your meeting?” Spencer asked, sliding the cup of coffee creamers over to add to his creation.
“Twelve thirty,” I answered. “We’ll go out after we drop you off.”
While he was with Gwen, Cosi and I were going to Cotters Lake to meet a realtor about Dad’s cabin.
Part of me couldn’t fathom letting it go. The other part, the practical part, knew that I’d never again call it home.
I lived on Pine Street.
And as of now, I had no prospects of a job come next fall.
When I’d asked Principal Harlan about a position for the upcoming school year, he’d basically laughed in my face.
He told me that hiring a young woman was his very last choice because obviously I’d get married and pregnant soon, then leave them high and dry.
Asshole.
Unemployed teachers didn’t need to be paying taxes and utilities for vacant, lakefront cabins. Though I was certain Cosi would make it work if I wanted to keep it.
For now, I was simply getting information. I wanted to hear what the realtor had to say. Then I’d decide if I could stand letting it go.
“Do you think your mom will come back?” Spencer asked.
“Oh, I’m sure. Though probably not until summer.”
“Good. I like your mom,” he said.
“She likes you too.”
Florence Poe had taken one look at Spencer Raynes and fallen in love. She’d already claimed him as her grandchild, and she was enamored with Cosi. Mostly, she loved that he was enamored with me.
Mom hadn’t stayed long in Dalton, only a week. Once I’d been discharged from the hospital, and she’d realized that Cosi was going to hover over me for weeks on end, she’d returned to Arizona.
But the short trip had given Mom a new perspective on Dalton. A fresh look from her daughter’s eyes. A daughter who’d fallen in love in this town and had no plans to leave.
“Do I have to meet with Gwen today?” Spencer asked, so quietly the question was almost lost in the noise of the café.
“No,” Cosi answered. “We can call her at the motel. Tell her plans changed.”
Gwen would be heartbroken, but her feelings weren’t the priority at the moment.
Spencer looked up from his jelly-creamer creation. I expected him to stare at his father, to wait for Cosi to give him guidance. But instead, he looked to me. “What would you do?”
I picked up the saltshaker, positioning it at the top of his pyramid. Once it was balanced, I let go, my fingers splaying wide in case I needed to catch it. But the shaker held fast.
“Ilsa, what would you do?” Spencer waited for me to answer his question, but I stayed quiet. This was a decision he had to make on his own.
“Fine,” he grumbled—with an eye roll. “Whatever. I’ll go. Do you think she even remembers it’s almost my birthday?”
“Yes, I do.” At least, I hoped so.
When we dropped him off, I’d find a way to bring it up, just in case.
“She better bring me a birthday present,” he grumbled. “Hopefully it’s cash.”
“Spencer,” I hissed.
“What? I need gas money.” He shrugged. “I’m broke.”
Cosi threw his head back and laughed while I balled up my napkin, tossing it into Spencer’s face, earning a laugh as beautiful as his father’s.
Easy. Exactly the way it should be.