Chapter Eighteen #3
“They sound like one of Tucker’s family reunions. He’s one of my team members who has family living up in West Virginia. I went with him to a reunion years ago. It was quite an experience, but I’ve got to admit, those folks made some delicious apple pie moonshine.”
“Was it good the next morning?” I teased.
“No, ma’am. The hangover was straight from hell.”
The waiter brought our salads and set them before us. “Your food will be out shortly. Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re good,” Jackson told her, and waited for me to take the first bite. Then he cocked his head and looked somewhere between surprised and angry. “I didn’t know . . . I didn’t plan . . . Please don’t be mad,” he said and stood up.
“About what?”
“Jackson, this is a wonderful surprise.” An older woman with a little bit of gray showing in her black hair hugged him tightly.
“Yes, it is.” A man near in age to her clamped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. I could see that Jackson would look like him in another thirty years.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jackson said.
“We aren’t going to Dell City,” the man said. “We spent a couple of days in Denver looking at a new breeder bull and decided to make a stop over here in El Paso before Quinton flies us on home tomorrow.”
When they both turned toward me, I felt like crawling under the table, especially when I knew how big that Armstrong pie really was. The only way I could keep my cool was to pretend that they were rich folks at a poker table. When I was in that element, no one had ever taken away my courage.
“This is my date, Carla Wilson. She recently acquired the Tumbleweed. Carla, this is my father, James, and my mother, Julia.”
“I’m pleased to meet y’all,” I said. “Have you eaten?”
Julia gave Jackson the evil eye and answered, “No, we haven’t. We were about to be seated when James noticed y’all.”
“Then join us, please,” I said. “There’s two empty chairs, and I’m sure you would love to visit with Jackson.”
“We couldn’t impose on your date,” James said.
“Why not?” Julia’s tone left no doubt that she was annoyed with her husband. “If Clara doesn’t mind, it would be lovely to eat with y’all this evening.”
“Carla,” Jackson corrected her, and mouthed, “Sorry!” in my direction.
I thought it was a hoot that she had called me by my poker name. “I do not mind.” I patted the arm of the chair beside me. “You sit right here beside me, Mrs. Armstrong. That way, when these men start talking shop, we won’t have to raise our voices over them.”
“I should have listened closer when Jackson introduced us,” she said.
Jackson popped up from his chair and seated his mother, and then he held up a hand for the waitress. When she came over, he said, “Two more have joined us. Would you please hold our food until you bring theirs?”
“No problem. What can I get y’all to drink? Maybe some wine or sweet tea?” she asked James.
“We’d both like the same beer these kids are having,” James answered. “No need for a menu.”
“Since it opened, this has been our favorite place,” Julia said. “I always have the filet, and James gets the rib eye.”
“I’ve never been here before,” I said, “but Jackson tells me that this is his favorite steak house.”
“Did he tell you that he got engaged in the Hotel Paso del Norte lobby?” Julia asked.
“Mother!” Jackson barked.
“No, ma’am, he didn’t—but he’s not still engaged, is he?”
“If she’s dating you, then she has a right to know about Yvette,” Julia snapped. “She was a big part of your life until you went off to the army.”
“We were eighteen, and the engagement lasted all of six weeks,” Jackson explained.
“They were high school sweethearts and even were crowned king and queen of their high school prom. She’s recently divorced, and we had high hopes . . .” Julia let the sentence hang.
“Let’s not talk about the past,” James said. “What do you do, Clara?”
“Thanks, sir, it’s Carla these days, and I own the Tumbleweed Bus Stop and Diner. Most of the time, I’m just a waitress. Rosie calls most of the shots, and she does a fine job of it,” I answered.
I would have loved to shuffle a deck of cards and play a few hands of poker with Julia.
Her face showed every emotion and every thought that ran through her mind.
I bet if I could get her to sit in on a game, I might even own that big sparkly rock on her finger, or maybe even half of one of the Armstrong companies, when the night ended.
“We love the Tumbleweed,” James said. “I’ve offered to pay Rosie triple what she makes at that little café if she would move to Dallas and be our cook. I even offered to give her the guesthouse and hire a staff to work for her. So I guess the Tumbleweed is not for sale anymore?”
“No, sir, it’s not,” I answered.
“Do you own other small cafés?” Julia asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“I thought maybe you bought them and flipped them once you had them financially stable, or something like that,” Julia said.
“No, again,” I answered. “I wouldn’t even have the Tumbleweed, but the previous owner lost it to me in a poker game.
I am a professional gambler, and my professional alias is Clara Williams, so you weren’t totally wrong when you called me by that name.
I’m going to give the business a few months to see if I’m ready to settle down or not. ”
“I knew you looked familiar,” James said. “We were in the same game in Vegas five or six years ago. The buy-in was fifty grand, and I barely broke even.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said. “But I’m glad you didn’t lose all of your money.”
Julia looked like she could pass plumb out right there in the restaurant. Her eyes darted from me to Jackson and then to James. “And if you aren’t ready to settle down?”
“Then I will either sell the café or give it to Rosie. I promised that I would stay until July 4, and I plan to keep my word.”
“I’d love to play another game with you some time,” James said.
“Maybe we can do that after July, but until then I’d have to say no. Rosie has threatened to leave if I fall back into my old life,” I told him, and hoped that would keep him from asking any more questions.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” James said with a smile.
I turned toward Jackson. “We were talking about family reunions when y’all arrived. Does the Armstrong family all get together for any holidays?”
“My folks used to have those when I was a kid,” James answered.
“I loved all the food and seeing my cousins. When my parents passed away, no one picked up the job of organizing one, so they just stopped. These days, we have trouble coordinating schedules even for our own five kids and grandkids to get together on Christmas Eve. Does your family still do that kind of thing?”
“I’m an only child. It’s great that all of your kids live close enough that you can see them often.
” My hands trembled when I picked up my beer.
Even if I had sat at a poker table with Jackson’s dad, I didn’t share that much personal information.
No, that wasn’t right. Other than Rosie and Scarlett, I didn’t talk about my old life—period.
I took a sip to keep from saying anything more.
These people didn’t need to know that they were intimidating the hell out of me and my nerves were beginning to frazzle.
I needed to get away, if only for a minute.
Anywhere, even a broom closet, where I could replenish my determination to not let anyone, or anything, make me feel inferior.
I laid my napkin on the table and pushed back my chair. “If y’all will excuse me, I need to make a trip to the powder room. If the food comes before I get back, y’all go ahead and eat.”
I took several deep breaths on the way to the ladies’ room, but even that didn’t do much to calm my frayed nerves.
The way Julia cut her eyes at me reminded me of Paula’s cold stares.
I wasn’t dumb at sixteen, and certainly not at thirty.
I could tell from day one that Paula didn’t want me in her house or her life.
And I got the same vibe from Julia in the first two seconds after she met me.
The ladies’ room was every bit as fancy as the restaurant. I was glad that this one didn’t have an attendant to hand me a fancy monogrammed towel after I’d washed my hands. I wanted to be alone, if only for a few minutes. I went into the first stall, put the lid down on the toilet, and sat down.
“Dating is for the birds,” I whispered.
“I’m so jealous, I could just cry,” a woman with a high voice said.
“Me too. I could use that tip money for a pair of shoes I’ve had my eye on for weeks.
” The next one sounded like she was a two-pack-a-day smoker.
“Mr. Armstrong always tips in cash, too, and Natalie doesn’t even need it.
She’s got a rich boyfriend and also has the Holt family on her section tonight.
They might not be as wealthy as the Armstrongs are, but, honey, they will add at least two hundred dollars to the standard tip. ”
“If I had the Armstrong table, I would flirt with the son. He’s really too old for me, but hey, to get a toe in the door for all his money, I’d rob a pharmacy and take all the little blue pills they had in stock,” Miz High Voice said.
“For that kind of cash, I would give up sex,” Miz Smoker said.
They giggled and then I heard the door close behind them.
“So, that’s what’s happening?” I sighed.
I understood a little more about the past and the present—Paula being the past, and Julia, the present.
Paula wanted a family with Frank, and it was evident that I would upset the dynamic.
She might not have even realized that she wanted me out of her house.
Julia saw me as a gold digger like those two women I had just overheard.
In her eyes I was nothing more than a glorified waitress—not nearly good enough for her only son.