Chapter Ten
The tumbleweeds were out in full force that day. We had to push them off the porch, kick them away from us, and then throw them away from the back door of the café to even open for the day. I checked each one for scorpions or a bug of any kind hitching a ride to points south.
“If someone could figure out a use for these things other than starting a bonfire or spray-painting them gold for decorations, we could make a million dollars harvesting them,” Rosie said.
Scarlett opened the door and stood to the side to let us enter first. Before I could take two steps, a tumbleweed as big as a bushel basket flew into the storage room.
Rosie picked it up and tossed it back outside. “That one’s got a roach the size of a lizard hanging on to it. I don’t know why Noah ever let the nasty things on the ark.”
I nodded in agreement and forgot all about what she said until I headed to Sierra Blanca to take care of the banking. I had fought with the tumbleweeds on the way to my SUV, and they scooted down the highway in front of me like they were leading the way.
Every time I looked in the rearview mirror, I could see them still chasing me. I swore at a few when they flew up and hit the windshield, but I’d had a good night’s sleep and didn’t mistake one for a dead body when I crushed them beneath my tires.
I raised my fist and shook it. “Why didn’t you kill the damn things off with Noah’s flood?”
Hey, now, you have been nothing more than a tumbleweed for many years, my mother’s voice scolded me. Just flitting around from one city to another. And you are cussing because you are disappointed, not because you don’t like bugs and tumbleweeds.
I couldn’t argue with that. I was frustrated.
I had looked forward to spending the afternoon with Jackson.
But then, an hour before he was to pick me up, he’d sent a text saying that he was tied up at the rig and couldn’t make it that day.
I just wanted to go to the bank and back home, where I could pout in silence in my bedroom, not blink every time something came flying up to crash into my windshield.
So, you are calling that area home now? Mama’s voice was still there.
The café and trailer were the only permanent homes I’d known in more than a decade. I made less money there than I ever had in my poker games—and that included what I won my sophomore year playing during lunch at school. I could visualize my mother tapping her foot as she waited for an answer.
“Okay, okay, it’s home, but that could still be temporary,” I answered out loud.
The father of all tumbleweeds slammed against my windshield and then bounced off the side, startling me so badly that I swerved over into the next lane. Thank goodness nothing was coming at me on the two-lane road.
“If I have to live with these blasted things every year, I’m not so sure I want this to be my home for all eternity,” I fumed.
The odometer on my SUV could testify that I had spent miles and miles all alone on the road with nothing but my playlist to keep me company.
Scarlett was the only other person who had ever been behind the wheel, and that was just a short drive around to the back of the café.
No one—not one single soul—had ever sat in the passenger seat.
“So, why am I lonely today? Is this what friends do for a person? Does having them make a person crave company all the time?” I muttered as I started my playlist. Music had always put me in a better mood.
The first song that came through the speakers was “Starting Over” by Chris Stapleton, one of my favorite artists. The lyrics talked about him being a lucky penny and his girl his four-leaf clover.
“Dammit!” I swore when the song ended. “I was forced to start over. It wasn’t my decision. And besides, that song makes me think about Jackson, and I don’t want him on my mind. I sure don’t want to get into a relationship that I would regret after a year or two.”
I had bewailed my losses in Tucson, but more than a week had now passed since that fateful night. If I’d known then what I knew now, would I have kept driving to Vegas?
I parked in the bank parking lot and sighed because I didn’t know the answer.
If I had listened to my heart and Lady Luck, I would have my old lifestyle back and wouldn’t even be disappointed that Jackson wasn’t meeting me for a late lunch.
By not knowing and letting the universe have a hand in things, I had five new friends.
I held out my palms and imagined the left one filled with hundred-dollar bills and the right one with Scarlett, Rosie, Jackson, Ada Lou, and Nancy in it.
I slowly closed my left hand. Money was just dirty paper with dead presidents’ pictures on it.
Friends were more precious than that. I grabbed my purse and opened the door.
I wouldn’t have missed this experience for all the money in the world.
Not even that robbery! Now I got to call Rosalie Rosie.
That was one step closer to getting them to trust me enough to tell me why they didn’t want to appear in court. I suspected the answer wasn’t great.
I finished my business in record time and decided to walk down to the Mexican café for a late lunch.
I had eaten alone for years and had proven that I didn’t need to look across the table at anyone else.
But suddenly, I experienced a new feeling—loneliness.
I had sworn that I would never yearn for company again after six months of living with Frank’s wife, Paula, who wanted to control every single thing about me.
A different waitress from the one that took care of Jackson and me looked up from behind the cash register and waved. “Sit anywhere you like. As you can see, you are the only customer we have right now.”
I told myself that I was a big girl who made my own way, paid for my own meals, and was totally independent. I repeated it a couple of times as I crossed the room and sat down at the same table where Jackson and I had sat just a week before.
That little pep talk was fine and good until I glanced over, and he wasn’t there. The saying about the heart not missing what the eyes don’t see popped into my mind. But now I had seen the joys of having friends, and my heart missed them.
The waitress who had waved at me appeared at my elbow with one lone menu and a single packet of silverware. “I’m Katy, and I’ll be taking care of you today. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a beer,” I answered. “Whatever you have on tap is good, and I want the taco platter.”
“I’ll be right back with that and a glass of water, plus some corn bread muffins for you to nibble on while we fix your food,” she said.
“Thank you, Katy.”
“Sure thing.” She left and returned with a mug of beer and a basket of muffins. “I’ve lived here all my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around. Are you just passing through?”
“I’m living south of Dell City. I own the Tumbleweed,” I answered.
“Mind if I sit with you?” Katy asked when she brought my food. “I really don’t like this time of day. The lunch rush is over, and everything is quiet for a couple of hours. When I get the place cleaned up, it’s just a matter of waiting. I’m not known for patience.”
I nodded toward the chair across the table. “Have a seat. I’m learning that I don’t like to eat alone.” Since arriving at the Tumbleweed, I hadn’t had to eat alone even once.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. “So, when did you buy the café?”
“I didn’t buy it,” I answered between bites. “I won it in a poker game.”
Her blue eyes got wider and wider until they looked like they might pop right out of her head. She clamped a hand over her mouth and whispered. “Please tell me you won it from Larry, and then he was so broke that he has to live in his truck—or better yet, in a box under a bridge.”
“It was from Larry, but he wasn’t totally broke when he left that night. Why does that shock you?”
“Larry is a pompous ass who was a friend to one of my ex-boyfriends,” she answered.
“I’m glad that he lost the café in a poker game.
He was about to run it into bankruptcy, and Miz Matilda would be sad.
Even in heaven, where everything is supposed to be all joyous, she would be sad. She loved that little place.”
“Wow!” I whispered. “It seems like no one around these parts has any good words to say about him.”
“You can’t find blood in a turnip, and you can’t say good things about a man like Larry,” she said.
I spooned some salsa onto my tacos. “Not even one little thing?”
“There is one thing . . .” She grinned. “He’s gone.” She stood up when the bell above the door jingled and a whole group of folks came inside. “Welcome. Are y’all all together?”
“Yes, we are, and we’d like a table for ten,” the older woman in the group said.
“Give me a moment to get you set up,” Katy said, and got moving.
The woman saw me and came right over to my table. “Hi. I’m hoping you can help. I’m taking a group of teenagers back home from a Christian retreat in Carlsbad. Do you have any recommendations for what to order—these teens are so picky!”
“I’ve only had the taco platter, but it’s awesome. Last week my friend had the enchiladas, and he said they were great,” I answered.
“Thank you so much, and have a blessed day,” she said.
“You are welcome.” I took a sip of my beer and went back to eating.
That’s another thing you missed out on. My mama had returned.
I knew what she was talking about. I had not had the normal teenage experience of going to church with a bunch of my peers, or attending retreats—whatever those were.
Strange thing was, until I saw them sitting across the room from me and laughing together, I didn’t even know that it was something I would miss.
Both vehicles were gone, and the trailer was empty when I got home. I put the bank bag with the receipts on the bar and walked right back outside. Rosalie and Scarlett would realize when they got home that I hadn’t run away with their money.