30. Chapter 30
thirty
“Mrs. Prescott—” The principal, Daniel McCrary, offers me a seat in his office.
Taking it, I tell him, “I’m not a Mrs.”
“Miss Prescott,” he corrects. “Myrna Simms is taking early retirement. You know, her husband passed away earlier this year—”
I inhale a quick rasp, interrupting. “No, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“She wants to live closer to her kids in the Metroplex. I’ve looked at your resume, called references, all glowing. You taught high school English in Tennessee. Does the position here interest you?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Myrna’s said she’ll stay until we find her replacement. Once you pass all your tests, you can start.”
“Tests?”
“You’ve got to be fingerprinted so we know we’re not hiring a dangerous criminal,” he says with a chuckle. “TB test, drug test. It’s bureaucracy. I’m not worried about you passing the requirements. Any questions?”
“Does Mrs. Simms still teach senior English?”
“Eleventh and twelfth grades. American literature and writing, then College Readiness and World Literature.”
My pulse jumps, a fast little thrum. “A little Shakespeare and Tolstoy? Wordsworth and Frost?”
“You’ve got it.”
I can’t hide my smile. “It’s so much fun to help kids see how literature translates into their lives. How something Shakespeare wrote in the 1600s still applies today.”
He gives me a look that is half impressed, half relieved. “Mona will fix you up with your teaching materials on your way out.” He stands from behind his desk. “Glad to have you on board.”
I want to hug him instead of shaking his hand, but I dare not. “Thank you, Mr. McCrary.”
“Laurel? You didn’t ask about pay.”
“I’m living with my parents right now. Pay isn’t as important as the stability this brings. Thank you again.”
I head straight to B & B Hardware, high on life. “Is Calder here?” I ask at the checkout counter.
“He’s in back,” the woman says, dry as dust. She’s maybe a little older than me, with a blonde page boy. She’s attractive enough, were it not for the resting bitch face.
“May I see him?”
Her eyes flick to mine. “And you are?”
That’s testy.
“Laurel.”
By the look on her face, you’d think I just said my name was Lucifer. The “resting” part has officially left the building. “Laurel who?”
That tone pops my balloon. What’s her problem? “He’ll know.”
We lock eyes for a beat before she slaps the intercom. “Calder, customer to see you at the front desk.”
Click.
Couldn’t say my name. Her message carries through the store.
I don’t wait long, and I’m relieved when he smiles seeing me—a welcome change from Ice Queen.
“How’d it go?” he asks.
“I got the job!” I squeal.
He grabs me, picking me up, holding me high—turning in a circle—the same way he did when we were young. “Didn’t have any doubt you would.” He sets me down. “Let’s celebrate. Lunch?”
“I’ll let Mom know I’ll be home right after.”
“You want them to join us?”
“Do you?”
He leans low. “We can always eat at my house.”
I laugh as he flicks his brows mischievously, and I stand on tiptoe to whisper, “I can barely walk right now.”
He tips his head back with a throaty laugh. “Got it. Darla, we’re going to lunch.”
She gives him a flat stare.
What is her problem?
“Is there any place to eat lunch, besides the Red Wagon? Not that I don’t like it. Just curious.” I click my seatbelt in place.
He arches one brow as he backs out of his parking space. “Laurel? Have you seen any other cafés in Ladera?”
“No.”
“Answered your own question. But I hear a new one’s opening on the Llano Highway.”
It’s wonderful. The Calder I knew. Us so comfortable.
“What’s that woman’s problem?” I ask, flipping down the visor mirror to see if I have something in my teeth. I mean, why was she so snippy?
He spares me a glance. “What woman?”
“The clerk. Darla?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t know she had one.”
A small pinch tightens behind my ribs. Of course he doesn’t.
“I’m not sure she likes me.”
“I don’t know why she wouldn’t. What’s not to like?” He slides his hand under my hair, massaging my shoulders. Goosebumps make me wiggle in my seat. I’m in danger of forgetting all about how sore I am.
“You want to invite Mercy and Tanner to join us?”
He squints at me, brows tight. “Do you have my phone numbers?”
“Did you give them to me?”
“Smartass. We need to fix that. No sense in us going through those two to reach each other anymore.”
Yes.
“When do you start?” Mercy asks, sitting beside Tanner, across from us in a booth at Red Wagon.
She and I agreed to share the Cobb salad.
Both men got their apparently regular chicken-fried steaks, because that’s what he ate yesterday and the server didn’t even bother asking them what they wanted. Come to think of it—I don’t think she asked yesterday. Just brought it.
“I start as soon as I pass the drug test, TB test, fingerprinting. You know.”
“So. You two.” Mercy waves her fork between Calder and me. “Out with it.”
Calder glances at me and grins, mimicking her action with his fork. “So. You two. Out with it.”
Tanner guffaws, leaning back in his seat. “Touche.” He gives Mercy a side-eye. “You want to tell ’em or me?”
“You.”
“We’re getting married.” He wraps his arm around her.
My heart skips and I gawk at them.
“Just kidding,” Mercy laughs. “You deserved it.”
Calder gives his best friend a flat stare, then cuts his eyes at me. “Sounds Freudian to me.”
“Fuck off, Calder,” Tanner says, then leans in, his voice low. “So. What did that jerk-off do yesterday that set the world on fire? Mercy won’t tell me. Says it has to come from you.”
Calder and I exchange glances. He answers, his eyes holding on to mine. “Dickwad filed for a paternity test.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Tanner says, loud enough people turn their heads.
“Not.” Calder replies, sliding his hand under the table, resting it reassuringly on my thigh.
“He thinks Bowie is yours?”
“Would appear.” Calder shoves a French fry in his mouth.
“When are we going?” Mercy asks, slipping into sister mode. “I’ll go with you, Laurel. We’ll take Bowie shopping again.”
“I should find out when I get home.”
Lunch ends, but the weight of what’s coming follows me out the door. The job is a blessing. The paternity test is a storm cloud. Both are real.
“Tomorrow,” I tell Mom after getting off the phone with Meredith. “Marble Falls.”
“What are you going to tell him?” she asks, glancing at Bowie playing on the floor with his farm animals—his cowboy hat on. Calder sent me home with the whole farm—barn, corrals, tractors and silos.
Bowie glances over his shoulder, his hat slipping sideways. “When do I get to see Calder’s trailers?”
Mind like a steel trap. He hasn’t forgotten.
“I’ll ask. You know, Calder has horses, too. Maybe he’ll let you ride one.”
He jumps up. “Horsies?”
“Yeah.” I saw two grazing in the pasture in front of his house.
“Laurel.” Mom gives me that guarded look she saves for when she thinks I’m hiding something. “You never explained.” She clears her throat. “Your whereabouts. Why you had to rush off.”
I got home before Bowie woke up, slipped into bed beside him so I was awake when he stirred.
I give her a blank stare in reply.
She rolls her eyes, letting out a long sigh. “I guess what I told him went in one ear and out the other.”
“It wasn’t him. It was me. I had a… nightmare.” It’s not a lie. And it’s all she’s getting.
She lifts her brows. “Laurel?”
“Everything’s okay, Mom.”
“He is good with You-Know-Who. Speaking of which, what are you going to tell You-know-who about tomorrow?”
“Doctor visit.”
Bowie stands, his brows pinched tight. “You said it again. Who is You-Know-Who?” he demands, hands on his hips like a tiny foreman.
“Are you eavesdropping?” I ask with a smile.
“Eave-what?”
“Get over here and let me love on you,” I say, opening my arms. He never resists that.