The Starlight Motel

Chapter Thirteen

New Year’s Eve

Lucky’s soft snores woke Kada. Stretching her arms above her shoulders, she rubbed Lucky’s soft ear, turned her head, and looked at the plants outside the casita window. The sun shone above the mountains, the palms looked entirely too crisp, and the guests milling around the pool already wore their swimsuits. Throwing back the blanket, she jumped out of bed, splashed water on her face, and reached for clean clothes.

Past midnight, she saw Dane’s light flicker on and knew she wasn’t the valley’s only occupant taking advantage of cool, evening breezes. Bantering with him soothed the tension in her shoulders. After finishing the ocotillo plant mural, she fell asleep thinking of their next encounter. She expected to see him for breakfast, but judging by the sun’s position, she way overslept. Slipping on the first shoes she saw, a pair of all-purpose sandals, she ran toward the front door and skidded to a halt. “Lucky?”

The dog raised her head.

“C’mon, girl. You need outside time.”

Lucky dropped her head and closed her eyes.

Pet ownership might be a new responsibility, but she was pretty sure she had to provide more than food, water, and affection. “Come on, let’s go to the garden.”

Inching forward, Lucky dropped her front paws to the ground and let her belly slide off the bed. Stomach wagging, she ambled out the front door and squatted in the grass.

“Such a good girl!” Reaching down, she tightened the adjustable straps on her sandals. The dusty shoes felt silly in Los Angeles, but they kept her going in the hot, dry valley. “We’ll find you somewhere cool to rest.”

Lucky snapped at fluttering, white moth.

She opened the gate and stepped through. “C’mon, girl.”

Lucky yawned, turned, and padded back into the casita .

“Not an early riser, eh?” Only a bit envious, she refilled the dog’s bowls, let the garden gate slam, and considered running toward the main building. Last night, she needed the release painting and flirtation provided. Today, she needed accomplishment.

Sue walked down the path with one arm wrapped around each child’s shoulders. Her auburn hair shone, and fresh lipstick graced her lips.

Kada slowed her walk. “Good morning!”

“It’s a beautiful day to celebrate New Year’s Eve.” Sue squeezed her kids’ shoulders. “I can’t thank you enough for the reprieve last night. Kids, did you have a good time?”

Mary Elizabeth wiggled out of Sue’s grasp, rushed forward, and took a hand. “Miss Kada, is Inés a real vocalist?”

She dropped to one knee. “As far as I know. Did you ask her?”

Eyes wide, Mary Elizabeth shook her head.

“She has a niece in Palm Springs about your age. I think she really likes kids. If you ask her about her life in Mexico, I bet she would tell you.”

Scanning the pool area and the gardens, Mary Elizabeth frowned. “She’s not here today. Usually, I can hear her singing.”

“Me, too!” Standing, she realized how she managed to sleep so late. “I think she took her niece on the tram ride. She’ll be back later, and you can ask her anything you like.”

“Anything?” Robert asked.

She made an exaggerated, wide-eyed face. “Anything.”

Robert pumped a fist into the air.

Facing Sue, she smiled and looked for Mack. “Where’s your husband?”

Sue rolled her eyes. “He went into town for parts. A buddy of his thinks he knows what’s wrong with the RV’s water pressure. It’s something about a leaky connection between the pump and the tank. I’m sorry I blamed your motel for the issue. We didn’t have time for the lanterns, but we’ll do them tonight.”

She shrugged. “No harm done. I’m glad you’re in good shape. Later tonight, when you release the lanterns, I want to see all the pictures.”

Both kids grinned.

“Awesome.” She stepped to the side and gestured for the trio to pass. “I’ll see you guys later today. Don’t forget about the midnight sing-along.” She dropped her voice. “Although, you might need to be asleep before the fireworks start.”

“Fireworks,” Robert whispered.

Mary Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

Watching daughters copy their mothers amused her. She wondered which of Mom’s traits she acquired. Artistic expression and family sentimentality influenced many people, but where did her rugged tenacity originate? Mom and Dad could both claim that trait. Turning away and swallowing her laughter, she walked toward the main house and lifted her nose. Most days, she rose with the sun and expected the smell of bacon to lure guests from their casitas . Nine o’clock might be early for some snowbirds, but she expected to see guests leaving the cantina with satisfied smiles. Instead of bacon, she smelled sweet, crisp sunshine and something smokier. I missed the rush. Maybe Benito tried Chorizo omelets.

Chris sat in a lounge chair by the pink firepit. He wore a shiny, polyester bomber jacket, black aviators, and a flamingo-patterned shirt so bright she understood why he needed the glasses. A box of donuts rested on his lap, and a steaming coffee cup waited on the edge of the firepit.

She shaded her eyes. “That looks like a treat.”

He took a bite from a donut.

“If you want something more substantial, we still make Hall’s famous breakfast buffet. Think warm biscuits and rich gravy, crisp bacon, and fresh eggs any way you like them. If you want something sweet, we have blackberry custard French toast.”

He shook his head.

“What about a short rib scramble with mozzarella? Chicken and waffles? Avocado toast topped with poached eggs, alfalfa sprouts, and basil pesto? Mr. Nicholson, you have to keep up your strength!”

Picking up a napkin, he wiped his face. “Kada, my friend, your chef’s out with a bad back, your servers burned the bacon, and if I wanted an egg, I’d have to make it myself.”

Widening her gaze, she took one look at the half-eaten donut, gasped, and ran into the main building. “Randi! Stephanie!”

More donuts sat in boxes by the bubblegum ornaments.

Gustavo had his phone out and snapped a picture. “Nice spread.”

“Yeah.” If she played this cool, she could turn it into a feature. “We like to keep things simple on New Year’s Eve. You know, give the staff a break.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I heard.”

She wanted to give him the full breakfast pitch and promise to make it herself, but if Chris’ explanation held water, she had an injured chef and two frustrated servers on her hands. Picking up a donut, she took a bite, smiled around the sweet treat, and calmly walked into the cantina.

Randi and Stephanie sat at a table. Two untouched donuts sat between them on crisp, paper napkins. Discarded sugar packets littered the table, and both women clutched their beverages like weary medical residents.

Kada scanned them for injuries. She listened for complaining guests. A clock ticked in the distance. She released her breath. “So…”

Randi raised an eyebrow.

Stephanie dabbed a tissue near her eye.

Pulling out a chair, Kada straddled the back and laid her donut on the table. “Rough morning?”

The women exchanged looks.

Randi scratched the edge of her mouth with a long nail.

A tear rolled down Stephanie’s cheek.

Nodding, Kada considered her options. Faced with twenty hungry motel guests, her parents, and no chef, the servers made an effort. She wished they woke her and let her pitch in, but she knew them long enough to respect their intentions. Frankly, Randi’s presence on-site was a miracle. Wetting her lips, she tried empathy. “How’s Benito?”

“Okay,” Stephanie said. “But he’s laid up in bed, and he can’t move his head from side to side. He said it’s a pinched nerve, and he needs time for the muscle relaxers to kick in.” She chewed a fingernail. “Is that serious?”

“Only if you want to ride him like a cowboy.” Randi covered a yawn.

Under the table, Kada nudged her foot.

Randi sipped her coffee. “What? They’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

Stephanie blushed. “He works so hard.”

Randi pointed a finger. “He needs to work you hard.”

Unsure whether to tackle logistics or interpersonal issues, Kada imagined what Pops would do. She doubted his files contained notes on managing employee love lives. He would have been up before the sun and circumvented the breakfast disaster. She rubbed her hands over her face.

“He should be celebrating or running his kitchen like a boss.” A second tear fell. Sniffling, Stephanie dabbed at her eyes. “He misses his family, and it’s New Year’s Eve. I wish I could help him.”

“Did you ask what he needed?” Kada asked. “Is there anything he wants?”

Stephanie tossed her tissue onto the table and dropped her forehead to her hands. “I don’t know! He brushed off my concerns and told me Mexico has more than fifty species of heirloom corn. Life has so many beautiful shades and moments, but he’s not tender elote .” She looked up. “He’s mazorca, and he’s a tough nut .”

Randi yawned. “I think you mean kernel.”

Stephanie frowned. “Maybe, but don’t you see? He thinks he’s too old for me.”

Randi shrugged.

Pulling a clean napkin from the stack she picked up with her donut, Kada offered the napkin to Stephanie and considered how to respond to her tears.

Mom would hug out the pain.

Pops had a different approach. He was uncomfortable with emotional behavior. To be professional, he thought he needed to ignore his emotions and the emotions of the people who worked for him and stayed at the Starlight Motel.

If she had a rough day or fell and scraped her knee as a kid, then he took her on a long walk and let the exercise purge her feelings. She understood his approach to life and figured it was the norm in most workplaces. Her favorite memories came from the times he cracked, told a joke, or let her wail on his shoulder…before the long walk.

In her experience, people made emotional decisions about what to wear, what to eat, and how to spend their time. Unless they worked on a factory floor, they depended on emotions to guide their days. An occasional tear offered relief, but Stephanie’s makeup was long-gone. Pops might leave them to muddle through their emotions. Choosing to engage, she let Stephanie’s tears flow without mentioning them. “I appreciate what you two did. Getting the donuts was a brilliant move.”

“We didn’t get them.” Stephanie hiccupped. “Your mom and dad got them. I was too busy putting out the fire.”

Randi nodded. “Mmm hmm.”

“The fire!” She sprang to her feet and stared into the kitchen. It looked intact, and she took deep, steadying breaths to calm her heart rate.

“It was a grease fire,” Stephanie said. “I tried to put it out.”

Randi pushed back her chair. It scraped on the tile floors. “With water.”

Stephanie dropped her head to the table and wailed.

Rubbing her hands up her cheeks, Kada closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Nobody’s injured?”

“All good,” Randi said. “I smothered the flames with a pot lid.”

She dropped her arms. Randi’s smooth confidence might have saved the day and the Starlight Motel. A fire extinguisher would have made an awful mess. Thank you , she mouthed. Choosing public recognition, she added, “Thank you for being here.”

Randi stretched her arms over her head. “Where else would I be? I belong in this valley. I was here when everyone still wore ‘tribal’ print leggings and braided headbands to live shows. I knew the catty indie gossip sites before those bitches had podcasts. The festivals kept me whole through my teenage years, and they thrilled me. As soon as lineups dropped, my friends and I poured over the schedules and schemed. We snuck baggies of weed into our maxi pads, paid cash for bootlegged wristbands, and drank warm beer while the bands played.”

“What happened to the weed?” Kada had never been this cool.

“Our stealth pipes fooled absolutely no one, but when security got too close, we smoked ridiculous, pastel-colored cigarettes and blew them kisses.”

“I wish I could have been there,” Kada said.

Randi waved away an unseen haze. “Why? You don’t belong here. You’re passing through, and so are all the idiots paying ten thousand dollars for air-conditioned camping tents when they could be staying here. You’ve got something, but it’s as fleeting as the sunset.”

Kada rubbed her brow and wondered if she put her foot in her mouth. In the 1960s, developers removed the Black population from Section Fourteen—a one-square mile of downtown Palm Springs—but her understanding of town history stood apart from her responsibilities at the motel. Randi invited her to a town hall to discuss confronting injustices and revisiting modernism, but the event hadn’t happened yet. Kada worried she’d missed it and sheepishly checked her phone. “Thanks, I think. I’m trying to add to the valley.”

“No problem, but we can do it without you. Just like me, the valley’s sweaty, surreal, and a whole lot of fun.”

Kada snorted. “Does that pickup line work?”

Randi winked. “Every time. Try it on your cowboy.”

She doubted Dane would be her cowboy. He might be the type of man who banked on one-night rodeos. “What if I can’t follow through?”

“Well, you’ll be good for a laugh, won’t you?” Randi rolled her shoulders and picked up her phone. “If we’re not serving today, can I have off the rest of the day? Walter’s been asking me to come up to the house, and if I don’t make an appearance, he and my extended family will come find me.”

This morning’s excitement gave her mental whiplash. She stood and matched Randi’s posture. “Why didn’t you tell me you two were related?”

Randi scratched a nail into her braids. “Did you know him before yesterday?”

She shook her head.

“Well, what did it matter?”

“The Palmer family wants to buy the Starlight Motel.” She wished she had a cup of coffee to hold.

“Let them,” Randi said. “I’d take the money and run.”

She stared. After her speech about local roots, why would Randi encourage her to abandon hers? “You would?”

“But I don’t love this place like you do. No matter what happens, your family comes back to this motel. I’ve seen it since I was a kid riding a pony with Uncle Walter. I don’t understand it, but I hope I find the same happiness one day.”

“You will.” She picked up the donut and hesitated. “What do you love?”

Randi finished her coffee. “I’m still figuring out the answer, and that’s okay.” Smiling, she waved off the intimacy. “Don’t worry, Kada, I’ll find my place. Until then, I like this gig. The hours are flexible.”

“They’re not supposed to be flexible!” She bit into the glazed treat and chewed with purpose. The refined sugar coating had nothing on a date’s honeyed complexity.

Laughing, Randi sauntered out of the cantina.

Swallowing the mouthful, she shook her head. The next time she sat with Randi for a performance review, she would give her a raise and a hug. Despite her spotty attendance record, Randi was right. Losing the motel would devastate her, her family, and her employees.

She turned toward Stephanie and the woman’s fragile state. Burning bacon to the point of flammability required skill. “Do you want to take off the remainder of the day, too? Do you want to sit with Benito while he recovers?”

Stephanie’s lip quivered.

The fire and missing breakfast would fade into a charming story. Why was Stephanie still crying? Kada feared Benito might be in more pain than she let on. She considered a gentle question to discover the underlying issue behind Stephanie’s tears. If the question failed, she could recommend a good therapist. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Pulling at her hair, Stephanie stared upward. “I love him. He knows I love him. Why doesn’t he love me back? I want a picket fence, a couple of kids, and a dog.” Her voice escalated. “Is that too much to ask?”

Her outburst echoed off the cold tile.

Dropping her shoulders and her head, Stephanie made eye contact. “Sorry.”

Well, I can help her with the dog. Lucky’s about to have a litter of puppies. Wiping the thought from her mind, Kada chose a neutral expression. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“He says he’s just a motel cook.” Tears fell freely. “Why doesn’t he return my feelings?”

Based on Benito’s lighthearted swat over stolen French fries, he had feelings for Stephanie, but the hurdles that kept him from returning her affection required more than forced proximity and doe-eyed adoration. “Why don’t you make him a sandwich and sit with him? Read him a book. Ask him what he wants to do with the next ten years of his life.”

Stephanie tugged an earlobe. “Who knows what the future will bring?”

She had plans, but she didn’t know if they would play out. “Maybe nobody does, but asking questions opens up the conversation. If you get to a point where you think he might reciprocate your feelings, ask him out on a date.”

“What if I offend him?”

Waving off the notion would get her back to square one. She solemnly nodded. “What if you spend the rest of your life regretting letting him go?”

“He’s leaving?” Stephanie gaped. “When did you find out?”

“No, he’s not leaving!” She took a deep breath. “I want you to own your feelings. Trust him to respect you and give you an honest answer. Let it all out.” She stood. In the last year, she wrapped her head around motel management, but she depended on Pops’ staff to know their jobs. He’d hired this lovely, blonde fluff ball. Why wasn’t he here to counsel her?

She considered what Pops would have done with a crying server. Well, he wouldn’t have overslept, missed the fire, and sat for a heart-to-heart. If he had, Stephanie might balk at his tough-love approach and need a new job. Who put out a grease fire with water?

“My feelings.” Stephanie clutched her coffee. “He can’t argue with my feelings, can he?”

“Nope. In my experience, your heart skips ahead of your mind. When the two organs find a rhythm, everything falls into place.” She omitted the part where her ambition exceeded her abilities, and she found herself unemployed in Los Angeles.

Stephanie nodded.

“Can you return for the dinner rush?” she asked. “I might have to manage the grill, but we should make burgers and stuff for the guests who want them.”

“Sure.” Stephanie smiled. “I mean, even an idiot can grill things.”

She hoped the description applied equally to both of them. Walking away from the table, she considered the kitchen. A few rounds of abrasive cleaner would remove the soot stains. If she could clean up the mess before Benito returned, he could slip into his kitchen without missing a beat. She added the task to her list.

“Kada?” Mom asked from the reception area.

Hearing her mother’s voice, she bit back a groan. She wanted to spend time with her family, but she expected to share the morning with Dane, not a scouring pad. Frustration left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she would clean up the mess, find a cup of coffee, and count her blessings.

After unloading details about her blotched fundraising campaign, she understood Dane’s need to take a breather. Over the holidays, he must have a ton of obligations, and she didn’t want to be another chore on his list.

“Were you up late?” Mom asked.

She turned, found a scrubbing pad, and forced a smile. “No later than usual.”

“It’s not like you to sleep in.”

Spreading her hands and working through the scorched grease, she shrugged. “If I’d known about the excitement, I would have been up early to see the show.”

Mom laughed. “Oh, it was a hoot. I haven’t seen your dad move so fast in my entire life. As soon as the drama calmed down, we went into Palm Springs and picked up donuts. We’re just now getting dressed. Do you still have time to go through Pops’ things with me?”

Glancing toward the front door, she nodded. “Of course. Just let me finish cleaning up this mess.”

“Great. Your dad’s working on an article, but I have all the time in the world.”

“Me, too.” The lie felt like a lump in her throat. After Pops’ death, putting her mother’s needs ahead of her own felt like a mature decision. Now, it felt like a burden. Mom knew what needed to happen, but she teetered between being overwhelmed and being adrift amidst her past. Kada needed to take Lucky to the veterinarian, pick up hamburger supplies, and drop in on Benito to understand if he needed more than Stephanie’s kisses and candy-colored pink lips. She swallowed. “Where do you want to start?”

Shrugging, Mom looked at the smoke stains on the kitchen ceiling and smiled. “Pops would have torn out his hair to see such a mess. All that time at sea left him as rigid as a flagpole.”

She dropped the pad in the sink and opened a drawer for a dishrag. Wetting the rag, she scrambled onto the counter and rubbed at the painted wall. The soot came off easily, and she dropped her shoulders. She could take care of this mess.

“I told him Dad and I decided to elope, and I held my breath. You should have seen his face. I thought he would blow a gasket or take me for another of his forced marches.”

“I loved those desert marches.” She rubbed at the stain.

“Me, too.” Mom picked up an abandoned order ticket and let it flutter to the stainless-steel countertop. “And then I grew out of them. I’m sorry Dad and I stayed away for the last few months. This place holds so many memories, and coming back hurt too much. I appreciate how much you’ve done. The motel looks amazing.”

Stilling a hand, she looked up from the wall. Academic compliments supported her childhood, but dealing with the motel felt like the first time she approached her family as an equal team member. “Thank you. It does.”

“Oh, Kada, you’re so creative and talented. I must have sent the articles about your mural to a dozen people. Look at my daughter and the things she’s doing. In the press photos with the students, you beamed, and they looked as proud as peacocks.”

She shook her head and rubbed at the stain. “I was happy working on the mural. I loved spending time with the students and building connections. Once I slipped past their defenses, I found out they were hilarious and witty. I miss them. I wish I could have stayed and made a bigger impact.” Her voice hitched. “I tried.”

“And I tried to run this motel.” Mom traced the writing on the ticket. “I couldn’t do it.”

She looked up. “What do you mean you tried?”

“Boot camp for wayward daughters.” Mom crumpled the ticket and dropped it in a trash can. “Every time things got tough, I let Pops handle the crisis. He said his dad was tough, but the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and he wondered what kind of flighty fruit he produced.”

She broke out in a sweat and replayed every maternal heart-to-heart she remembered. Mom’s can-do attitude had to spring from a well of strength, not twenty-first century parenting fads. Without Mom at the helm, Kada would struggle to paint. She swallowed. “You could have done it.”

Mom shook her head. “I live in the clouds. You?” She smiled. “You’re like the best combination of me and Dad. You have your feet planted firmly on the earth, but you’re still a dreamer. Your generation has so much flexibility and grace. Nothing exists you can’t accomplish with a little patience and elbow grease.”

She rubbed at a stain on the wall. Out, damned spot. Lady Macbeth’s guilt drove her insane, but Kada refused to succumb to her mistakes. She took on the Starlight Motel to honor her family, find her footing, and figure out her next steps, but she worried the desert would swallow whole her ambition. Fearing she would fall flat on her face, she climbed down from the counter. “When you were a kid, did you want to take over managing the motel?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Mom backed out of the kitchen. “It’s so intense.”

Laughing, she set down the rag. “I still want to paint. It soothes me and gives me a way to examine the world. Maybe you and Dad could run the motel from time to time and give me a break? One day, I would like to do more than paint casita walls.” Holding her breath, she wondered if asking for a partnership would be enough.

“But the murals are beautiful!” Mom waved both hands. “I don’t want to ruin your groove. Let me sort through Pops’ record collection, wipe my tears, and go back to Wyoming where I belong. I’m glad we came down, but you have this covered.”

“But…b-but…” She struggled to find a rebuttal. Without Mom, she had to fall back on Plan B. The family would have to hire a manager or sell the motel. If she stayed, the half-finished mural might be the last thing she painted. She wiped her palms on her jeans.

“The desert is beautiful this time of year.” Mom stretched her arms behind her back. “Motion is lotion, as my yoga teacher says. Being outside does a body good.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dane said.

Kada gasped and turned toward the sound of his voice. He wore neat jeans and a crisp white work shirt. His hair, damp and dark against his forehead, looked recently combed. He looked like the kind of unencumbered problem she could tackle in a heartbeat. Memories of their tryst on the washing machine promised he could make her forget the quagmire of family remembrances and uncertain loyalties threatening to pull her under. “You’re here.”

He inclined his head. “I meant to be here earlier, but a hand drove a tractor over an irrigation line, severed it, and flooded the pump shaft.” He lifted his nose. “Did I miss breakfast? I can usually smell the chorizo a mile away.”

She and Mom laughed.

Raising a donut, he eyed the sugary, sweet confection and took a bite. “No matter. I’m here.” He frowned. “Who ordered bear claws?”

Tossing the rag into the sink, she walked out of the kitchen. “I can’t do much about breakfast, but I have cold cut sandwiches for lunch. Stick around for a while. If you mean to escape your relatives, you couldn’t pick a better place than the Starlight Motel.”

“Oh, did you cancel the New Year’s Eve shenanigans?” He bumped her shoulder. “They come every year.”

The warm flush of contact steadied her, and she looked over the cantina. Each table still held a small, white ceramic vase stuffed with pink and red carnations and a candy cane. Guests still sunned themselves by the pool, and children still played hide and seek between the palm trees. The motel would endure, and she had to find a way to thrive. “No, but we’re rolling with the punches. If you hang out long enough, you’ll pick up on the magic.”

“Maybe I already have.” He rubbed his thumb along his fingers.

“Oh?” She walked out of the kitchen, grabbed a carnation, and tucked the flower behind her ear. “Are you ready to lead the sing-along? We have story time scheduled from two to four.”

He braced his legs and crossed his arms. “Absolutely not.”

She laughed. “Fair enough, but if I see you floating in the pool with a drink, I’ll charge you a day use fee.”

“And if I see you doing the same?”

She exhaled and considered the possibility. In the mid-morning light, he was as handsome and charming as the cowboy who rode in near twilight and stole her breath. She hoped the daylight might dull his charm, but he fixed an irrigation leak and honored his commitment. If she checked her phone, she would probably find a few text messages telling her about his delay. She knew in her heart he was too good to be true, but as long as he stuck around, she would enjoy the gift. “I heard Stephanie and Randi brewed a mean pot of coffee. Care to join me?”

He offered his arm.

Taking it, she savored his sweet citrus smell and enjoyed the moment. Whether or not Mom grinned mattered little. Kada would enjoy his presence and deal with the fallout another day. In the meantime, she had a motel to run.