Chapter 7
FOOT IN HER MOUTH
On Friday, Meredith pulled her SUV to a stop in front of the Ridgeway family home. She’d been invited to dinner to discuss her job and formally meet Reenie Dupree.
She needed anything she could to get her mind off of her day at work.
Rarely did she have what she considered a bad day. She had the patience of a saint with her students.
In her mind, it was her job to make learning fun and she put an extreme amount of time and effort into that.
But the conversation this morning about Macy after she’d met with the nurse and school counselor yesterday had bothered her more than she could say.
As the teacher, it was her job to make the dreaded call to the home and gather more information. Which she’d done before she left.
Rosie Stubban hadn’t been all that free with information about her granddaughter’s life. Nothing more than Richie Stubban wasn’t around much and she was caring for her granddaughter the best she could while working and dealing with her drunk son.
Macy hadn’t said she was hurt at home. No one yelled at her. No one hit her.
But she appeared neglected in her dirty clothes and body odor. The hunger the child always exhibited.
As gently as she could, she’d explained about Macy having a rash on her inner thigh that needs to be kept clean, per the nurse. Then a few comments the children had made about Macy’s odor.
She’d hoped that got through to Rosie, but wasn’t sure she could hold her breath.
It broke her heart to see any child ignored, but this was more in her eyes.
She inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, then climbed out of her SUV and walked up the front porch stairs to knock on the door.
Clay’s mother opened it right away. “I’m so glad you could make it,” Brooke said. “Reenie is inside. Ford and Clay are on the way.”
“Oh,” she said. Meredith wished she knew Clay was coming. She might have put more effort into her attire. “I didn’t know he’d be here.”
All she’d done was change into jeans, sneakers, and a red T-shirt.
“My son loves any meal he doesn’t have to cook,” Brooke said. “Plus he should hear this anyway. I know it’s not his thing, but it’s too bad. It’s part of the family business and blends with his.”
She didn’t know the details of everything other than what Gale had told her last night. That Clay used his own money to get the hard cider business going and it was in his name. She assumed everything else fell under the orchards.
It didn’t matter to her. Her employment records were for the orchards and not Clay directly. Which didn’t explain who she reported to and she should figure that out also.
How had this gotten so confusing?
“I will admit, anytime I don’t have to cook, I enjoy it too. It’s not always so much fun to cook for myself.”
She turned when a dark-haired doe-eyed woman walked closer to her. “I say the same thing. I’m Reenie and you’ve got to be Meredith. Or do you go by Meri?”
“I’ll answer to either,” she said. “But I started going by my full name when I went to college.”
“I understand that. My real name is Maureen. When I moved away I did the same thing. But I knew Ford as a kid when I lived here for a year. I was Reenie to him.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Meredith asked. She felt horrible just standing there while Brooke moved around the kitchen.
“No,” Brooke said. “I’ve got it. Reenie was told that too, but she doesn’t listen well.”
Reenie grinned at her. “Why don’t we sit down? Brooke can do twenty things at once and always could. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions.”
“I do,” she said, pulling out her laptop that she’d stuffed in a large shoulder bag. “I reached out to the bride that is getting married here at the end of the month. She was thrilled with my offer to help. I know it’s not part of her package and I don’t expect to be paid for it.”
She was getting an hourly wage for her work and had to keep track of it all.
“Nonsense,” Brooke said. “Let us know what you do and your time. It’s all part of it to make it the best we can.”
The three of them got down to business and talked about the setup for the previous weddings, the menu, the work they’d done and how hard it was to find supplies and that they had to buy a lot of them.
“I’ve got many vendor contacts. You can rent linens, plates, and glasses instead of buying them. But of course if you bought them already…”
“We did,” Brooke said. “Not that we wanted to, but it was only a wedding of fifty. We’ll be able to use them, but I like it better to rent them.”
“It’s easier and worth it. I’ll make sure I’ve got choices available for them.”
They were discussing food options and what the cafe could provide, which was nothing more than finger foods, to a list of caterers that she’d already had in place.
“Anything for Reenie to work less is my vote.”
Meredith turned when Ford came in the back door. He wasn’t in uniform but had his gun on his belt. She wondered if he always wore it.
She forced her eyes away. She wasn’t used to weapons. She wouldn’t say she was uneasy around them, just not something she thought much of.
It reminded her of what Gale had said about Clay. That he’d recently killed two people.
She didn’t want to think of what he’d done in the service. Or what his role was there either.
It was the dark side of life she wished didn’t exist.
Give her elementary school kids any day of the week with story times, paints, and Play-Doh.
Na?ve on her part.
“Hi, Ford,” she said, standing and going in for a hug. It was just her thing. “Not sure if you remember me.”
“I do,” Ford said. “Unlike my brother.”
She smiled and put her hand to the side of her mouth as if she was going to whisper, only she didn’t, “I think he might have blocked me from his memory. I wouldn’t blame him.”
“It’s hard to do that,” Clay said, coming in after Ford.
Damn it. There she went putting her foot in her mouth.
“I have a lasting impression on people,” she said. “Not on purpose.” Which was funny because she always thought she was forgettable.
Clay snorted. “I didn’t recognize you without the glasses. Gale gave me shit over it.”
“Clay Matthew, don’t you swear,” Brooke said.
His eyebrows lifted almost into his hairline. “I swear all the time. So do you. What the hell?”
A giggle escaped. “I’m used to swearing. I do it myself. But I do have to make sure not to do it around the kids.”
“See,” Clay said. “Ford is worse than me.”
“Never,” Ford said, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer and tossing it to Clay. “Here. Drink and don’t talk.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Clay said, opening the can and taking a large gulp of it.
His hair was wet, so she was assuming he’d gone home to shower and change.
“You don’t drink your cider over beer?” she asked. There was silence in the kitchen to that, then Ford burst out laughing. “What did I say? I love your cider. I’ve had them all.”
“That’s good,” he said. “I drink enough of it testing and tasting.”
“The sugar and acid give him a bellyache,” Ford said.
Clay shoved his brother, and the two of them ended up in the wall.
“Cut it out,” Brooke said. “Do you two ever quit?”
Brooke was grinning, but Meredith had all she could do not to drool.
Oh my. Clay’s arms.
Huge!
Why hadn’t she’d noticed that before?
When he flexed, his skin was taut and stretched to its limit over large biceps.
His forearms even had a muscle riding on the top. Did she know that was even possible?
“You’re staring,” Reenie whispered when she leaned closer. “But I get it. I do too when the two of them are like this.”
Meredith shook her head, embarrassed to have been caught.
“It’s hard not to. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Reenie said.
“I need everyone’s opinion,” Clay said, taking another drink. He held her stare. “Probably yours more, but I want to know the thoughts.”
She sat up straighter and refused to be put off by his failure to address her by name. Didn’t even say hi.
“What’s going on?” Brooke asked.
“I’m using the apples on the farm for a limited edition cider. Two fall flavors to release mid to late October. Another for closer to Thanksgiving into the holidays. Cinnamon and ginger.”
“Ohhhh, I love both those combinations and can’t wait. They’ve got my vote,” she said.
“I’m not voting on that,” he said. “It’s decided.”
Brooke frowned at Clay’s tone. Meredith was already getting used to his grouchiness and wouldn’t take offense at it.
He was her boss, she thought. Who knew at this point, but she’d find out.
“Go on,” Brooke said.
“The third flavor is cranberry. My thought was to put it in wine bottles so that it’s more of a holiday treat. Or edition that way.”
“I came up with special edition bottles for weddings,” Callum said, coming into the living room. His hair was combed and wet and she was assuming he’d been in the house and cleaning up too. “Surprised Clay that I could think of such a thing.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Meredith said, then slapped her hand in front of her mouth. “Sorry. Is that what you’re asking?”
“Yes,” Clay said. “Do you think it’s something to appeal to couples?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I know you’ve got a few package plans, but I was thinking we should change them and give them fancy titles.
More like wedding themed titles. Rustic, vintage, country, garden, bohemian.
Things like that. Then each one can have tiers that could include special bottles.
Maybe even favors. You know, small bottles with labels on them. The bride and groom’s names and dates.”
“I love that idea,” Brooke said. “Is that something you can just have ready in clear glass bottles and then print labels to put on? Reenie, you do that, right?”
“I can,” Reenie said. “If that is what Clay wants.”
Meredith looked at Clay who was frowning. Maybe she overstepped.
He waved his hand. “Whatever you two work out. I’m not really into that stuff.”
“Who are you kidding?” Reenie said. “You’re very particular about stuff.”
“My logo, sure. But not wedding things. I don’t care about the color or font of those labels, as long as my logo is on them.”
“That goes without saying,” she said. “I’m so excited. I can’t wait.”
Clay rolled his eyes and let out a breath. “Just keep me posted on it.”
“Can I ask—who do I work for?”
Brooke was looking at Clay with her eyebrow lifted.
“Me,” Clay said.
“Don’t sound so put out,” Meredith said. “I promise not to bug you too much, but there are going to be things I have to ask you. I’m just confused since the paperwork I signed said Ridgeway Orchards and Gale told me Ridgeway Hard Cider was something different.”
“Clay is the one who did all the work in the barn for events. It’s not what he had planned, but it falls under him, though the revenue will come to the family orchard,” Brooke said. “It’s all on paper, but Clay will be your boss.”
Awww. How thoughtful! He was a big tough guy, but he was putting it all in the family name so they were taken care of.
“You’re not so hard,” she said sweetly.
The room erupted in laughter at her statement. Clay stared her down. “Don’t bet on it.”
She was more turned on than afraid, but that would be her little secret.