Chapter Three #2
Even though it was winter and cold outside, I’d sweated so much during the day that my silk panties were stuck to me like they’d been rolled in maple syrup.
The warm water beating down on my aching muscles was downright glorious.
I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and dozed off.
The next thing I knew, I was sliding down the wall.
In a knee-jerk reaction, I straightened up, knocking over two bottles of shampoo sitting on the edge of the tub.
I washed my hair and hoped I wouldn’t break any rules by using it.
My own toiletries were still in my SUV, and there was no way I was going to get dressed back in my dirty clothing and go get them.
The towels stacked on a rack above the potty weren’t as fluffy or as big as the fancy monogrammed ones in the hotels, but they were a helluva lot better than those in the cheap motels that Frank and I stayed in during slow weeks.
With a towel wrapped turban-style around my blond hair and another around my body, I picked up my dirty clothing and headed down the hallway.
That was when it dawned on me that everything else was in my suitcases. I didn’t have clean underwear or a nightshirt. I had two choices: sleep naked or put my dirty clothing back on.
Naked it is, I thought as I put everything I was holding into the washer, took a chance on what water temperature and cycle to use, and tossed in one of the pods.
“That all the clothing you have?” Rosalie asked.
“No, but I’m too tired to walk back outside to bring in my suitcases.”
“Toss me your keys, and I’ll drive your vehicle around here and bring in your stuff,” Scarlett said.
“They are in my purse on the counter—and thank you. I owe you one.”
“And I will collect,” Scarlett said with a grin.
Hours seemed to pass, but in reality, she rolled my two suitcases into the trailer in only a few minutes. “I noticed your gas tank was setting on empty, so I filled it up before I drove it around. Is this all you have?”
“Yes, other than a small lockbox, but it’s empty, so there’s no need to go back outside.
” I rolled the suitcases down the narrow hallway and into a room even smaller than the cheap hotel I’d left behind less than twenty-four hours ago.
How could my life have done a 180-degree turn so fast in such a short time?
Because you ignored Lady Luck, the pesky voice in my head whispered as I dropped the towels and dug through my larger suitcase to find a pair of underwear and a nightshirt.
I pulled back the chenille bedspread and crawled beneath the cold sheets.
There was no need to argue. Lady Luck was right: I should have listened.
Other than the light from a sliver of moon peeking through the slats of the window blinds, the room was dark when I opened my eyes.
I’d lived in hotel rooms for more than a decade, so disorientation wasn’t anything new.
Footsteps right outside in the hallway made me sit up and throw back the covers.
Then I remembered where I was and fell back on the pillows.
Rattling noises in the kitchen and the smell of coffee wafting under the bedroom door brought me out of bed. Yesterday was New Year’s Day. I hoped the superstition Frank had taught me was wrong and that I wouldn’t be working in a café for the whole year.
I dressed in a clean pair of jeans, a T-shirt printed with the title of one of my favorite songs, “Brenda Put Your Bra On,” and my only pair of athletic shoes.
Then I changed the shirt to one that had a happy face on it.
I didn’t want to suffer the stinging wrath of Rosalie if I came out wearing something with a red bra on the front.
I made a stop by the bathroom and then went on down the hall to find the front part of the trailer empty. I poured a cup of coffee and heated the last of the black-eyed peas and a piece of corn bread in the microwave.
“Good morning,” Rosalie said as she came into the kitchen.
“You must have been tired. You slept right through the afternoon and on through the night. Got to admit, you look a little better than you did yesterday. Your hair will have to be put up in a ponytail or twisted up like you had it yesterday. If an inspector dropped by, we would be in trouble. We’ve never had a complaint about a hair in the food, and we aren’t starting now. ”
“Thank you. Sleep did me a world of good. Who made the coffee?” Five o’clock in the morning was the time that I usually went to my room and slept until I had to check out of the hotel.
Scarlett poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to Rosalie. “Rosie gets up every morning and makes coffee. We need it to wake up before we start the day. I truly believe that Matilda’s spirit didn’t go straight to heaven, but she left behind the bossy part for Rosie.”
Rosalie took a sip of coffee. “Be grateful for that. She knew you would need someone like me in your life, and it looks like Carla might need some direction, too. God has put her in the middle of nowhere so she can kick her gambling addiction.”
Addiction? I’m not addicted to anything—not drugs, liquor, sex, or even cigarettes. And who says I would want to give it up anyway if I was addicted? Dammit! I haven’t even been here a whole day yet, so don’t be preachin’ at me or making plans for my life.
Rosie shook her finger at me. “Don’t look at me that way. I know an obsession when I see it.”
“My gambling is a job. I do not use drugs. I do not smoke. I only have a shot of whiskey to celebrate winning,” I argued.
“That’s good to know, but I smelled smoke on you when you got to the Tumbleweed yesterday morning,” she fired back.
“Secondhand. Smoke hung in the air like fog at the place where I was playing poker the night before.”
“You better be telling her the truth,” Scarlett warned. “She will quit and move away if there’s liquor, cigarettes, or drugs ever found on either of us. And she does not tolerate swearing, especially the f-bomb or using the Lord’s name in vain.”
“What about sex?” If I had to give up poker, I might resort to sex.
“What about it?” Scarlett asked.
“If I have a one-night stand or leave for a weekend romp, will she leave?”
I was halfway teasing but mostly serious. I was not a virgin, but my previous encounters had been one-night stands or, in a few cases, had lasted for a weekend.
“Those were Matilda’s rules from the get-go, and I mean to keep them in force,” Rosalie said.
“Now, that’s enough talk for one morning, especially about sex, which should be reserved for a man and woman behind locked bedroom doors after they are married.
It’s time to go to work. Maybe we’ll do as well on tips today as we did yesterday. ”
I finished off the last bite of my leftovers and headed back to my room to get a hoodie from my suitcase.
On the way, I noticed that what I had put in the washer the night before had been dried and was now lying on top of the dryer.
I gathered it all up, tossed it on the bed, and took time to put my denim coat in the washing machine before I followed Scarlett out of the trailer.
“Thanks for helping with my laundry.”
“That was Rosalie, not me,” Scarlett said. “She’s tough, but if you give her a chance, she can be the best friend you’ll ever have.”
“Are y’all related? What brought you to this godforsaken area?” I asked.
“We are not related by blood, but she is like a surrogate mother to me. And why we came here is a story that we don’t tell unless we know you very, very well,” she snapped.
“And for your information, there is a Catholic church in Dell City where Rosalie goes to Mass at least twice a week, and a Baptist one that I attend for night services on Sunday with my boyfriend, Grady. So this place is not ‘godforsaken.’”
She set her full mouth in a firm line and didn’t even hold the door for me when she went inside the café’s storage room.
“Lesson number one,” I muttered. “Do not ask any more questions.”
Rosalie slipped a bibbed apron over her head and tied the waist strings behind her back. “You can wait on the tables today, and Scarlett will do the bar and the register.”
Anger shot through me like a fiery-hot poker. I had never cheated a single soul out of anything. What I had won had always been fair and square. “Do you think I’ll skim money?” My voice had a razor-sharp edge to it.
“It’s basically your money, and you’ll have to answer to the tax people and God for whatever you do,” Rosalie said.
“When I came to the Tumbleweed, I had even less experience than you,” Scarlett said.
“Matilda made me learn everything from the ground up. I started by cleaning up after the breakfast and lunch runs, then graduated to waiting tables, and finally to taking care of payments. Since you said you had experience and learned the cash register so quick . . .” She paused for a breath.
“And looked like you were about to drop from exhaustion, I gave you the bar yesterday.”
“She did the same for me in the kitchen. I had been a fry cook before. I learned from the previous cook, who was retiring.” Rosalie’s voice had softened. “‘Baby steps’ is what Matilda called it.”
“I haven’t worked in a café since I was sixteen. A refresher course will be good for me,” I agreed. “I’ll go get the chairs set up and make sure all the condiment containers are full.”
“I’ll help with that after I get the money from the safe and set up the register,” Scarlett offered.
“By the time we get everything in order, Rosie will have breakfast started. I usually have an omelet and biscuits. You need to put your order in now if you want something, or else you’ll have to wait until after the rush. ”
Rosalie was already making biscuit dough in a huge bowl. “You had peas and corn bread at the trailer.”
“I slept through last night’s supper, so that counts as yesterday’s food. I’ll have whatever you are making for Scarlett for breakfast, and later, if you are making gravy, I’ll have that and biscuits for my midmorning snack.”
Rosalie focused on my eyes so intently that I felt like she was seeing right into my soul.
“What?” I asked.
“How do you eat so much and still look like you do?” she asked. “I can gain weight just watching a cooking show on television.”
“I have no idea, but I love good food, so I hope I never have a problem.” I was glad we were back on better terms. Having a friendly relationship with the two women would be a blessing in case I had to stay a long time.
We had barely finished getting things set up when Rosalie yelled, “Come and get it.”
On our way to the kitchen, Scarlett flipped on the light that blinked Open and then went straight to the sink to wash her hands. I followed her example before I sat down in one of the chairs and picked up my fork.
“Grace,” Scarlett whispered.
Rosalie had already bowed her head, so I quietly laid my fork down and tucked my chin to my chest. This was surely a whole new lifestyle I had fallen into.
She chanted a quick prayer and then, with a nod, gave us permission to begin. “God has been too good to me these past years for me not to give thanks every time I can. Now, let’s eat before the first bus arrives.”
“Mmmm,” I muttered when I put the first bite in my mouth. “This is the best omelet I’ve ever eaten, and these biscuits are . . .”
“Heavenly?” Scarlett butted in.
“Yes. What is your secret, Rosalie?”
She slathered butter on the two biscuits lying on her plate. “I bake them with love, and that’s all you need to know.”
As I was finishing my second cup of coffee and third biscuit stuffed with strawberry jam, we heard the first bus arrive.
In minutes, the dining room filled up and there was a line for both bathrooms. I had a soft heart for little kids who were hungry, so I hurried over to the first table, where a young couple and two little boys in their pajamas were sitting.
I handed each of them a menu and rattled off the breakfast special.
“What can I get y’all to drink?”
“We’ll have two cups of coffee and two glasses of milk,” the mother said.
One of the little boys turned around and pointed toward the candy display next to the register. “I want candy and root beer.”
“After you eat breakfast, you can have some to eat on the way home,” his father said.
His lower lip poked out, and he dropped his chin down to his chest. “Granny let me have candy anytime I wanted it.”
They were still arguing while I filled their drink order and headed back to the table. My grandmother had not been that lenient when I was a little girl. I got good, healthy food when Mama and I visited her and Grandpa. She said it would make me live a long life.
I took a tray with the drinks to the table in time to hear the father say, “I’m not arguing with you. The answer is no, so stop asking. This is why we live in Dallas, not in Arizona.” He looked across the table at his wife. “Next time we are flying, no matter what the cost.”
“If we do, then that will be our only vacation for the year. Do you want that?” she snapped, and then softened her tone when she realized the drinks had arrived. “Thank you for being so prompt. The boys will each have the kid’s meal with pancakes and bacon. I want the Full Works breakfast.”
“Make that two,” the father said.
“How do you want your eggs?” I asked.
“Scrambled,” she said.
“Same,” he added.
The whiny one crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his father. “I want root beer and candy.”
“What you want and what you get are two different things,” his mother told him.
Amen to that, I thought as I hurried away to pin the order on the carousel and get their drinks.