Chapter Nineteen
Kada regretted buying just one bag of tortilla chips. Turning up the truck’s radio, she drove back toward the Starlight Motel. Beautiful, blue skies and temperate weather explained the throngs of tourists pouring into Palm Springs. The town had begun to feel like a home, and she halfway resented the increased traffic. If a few tourists stopped at the Starlight Motel, then she welcomed their reservations, but she had more than enough work to keep her busy.
Sneaking a quick peek as the truck hit a rough patch of asphalt, she saw Dane wince. His fortitude could inspire a country-western song, but his outlook on life needed a spit shine. He was so focused on the bottom line he couldn’t make room for the joys surrounding him. When a bell pepper ceased being a sweet, crunchy delight, a man needed to step back and examine his priorities.
No matter his motives, the popcorn flower display gave her hope. Even if he sought out the blooms to relieve her nonexistent sadness, the act meant he could see the beauty around him. She merely had to help him find it.
“You’re quiet,” he said. “I like your chatter.”
She laughed and thought fast. “As a kid, what was your favorite part about the holidays in Palm Springs?”
“The presents,” he said. “Kids always like the presents.”
She smiled. “I knew you were spoiled.”
He cleared his throat. “The illusion of magic. A massive Christmas tree twinkling to life, sweet treats, and visits from Santa. Even the menorahs and the diyas captivated me. When I got older, I remember the resorts passing out flashing, fiber-optic wands to wave while attendants lit up the tree. A big operation hired costumed carolers and hosted a sing-along. I had fun.”
“Mariah took you to all those things?”
“She did.”
Keeping her gaze focused on the road, she wondered when he lost sight of the holiday magic and saw the production costs. “I guess you outgrew all that fluff.”
“Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe my responsibilities left little room for silliness.”
She thought about the years she missed Christmas ceremonies. With so many events canceled, scaled back, or made virtual, she threw herself into reinstating old-school holiday joy. “Some motel guests return year after year. Pops left behind a treasure trove of memories, but I have something new planned for tonight’s New Year’s Eve celebration. I hope it helps our guests celebrate the holidays and creates the sense of hope everyone craves.”
“A midnight swim party with neon glow sticks?” he asked.
“Close!” To shape the new tradition, she would have to work hard for the remainder of the day, but the crowd’s response would justify her effort. “I wasn’t born and raised in this valley, but I like the people here. I like helping the community thrive and grow.”
“I wish you’d stay,” he said.
“Do you?” Her undefined tenure left her freedom and a sense of feeling adrift. If Mom could help with the Starlight Motel, then she would cheerfully share control. “I might.”
“I won’t hold my breath. Your talent can take you places.”
Did she hear censure in his voice? Turning beneath the motel’s pink sign, she parked the truck under the awning, grabbed the buns, and climbed out.
Holding the dog food, he met her in front of the hood.
She hated saying good-bye, but she took the sack from his arms. “Let’s have dinner on Saturday night. Just wait until after the New Year. Whatever works best for your schedule.”
He scratched his jaw. “Whatever works best for me?”
She nodded. She would leave the Christmas decorations hanging until after Twelfth Night, but taking down the decorations would mark the beginning of a new season. Whether the season with Dane lasted past Lent depended entirely on him.
He stroked her cheek. “Why do I feel like you’re saying good-bye?”
“We both have commitments.” Arms full, she jerked her head toward the throwback jeep better suited for storming the beaches of Normandy than making a grocery run. “Call me if you need a tow back to the farm.”
Dropping his hand, he smiled. “Okay.”
“Think about the failure thing? I’ve spent a lot of time picking myself up after my failed fundraising campaign. Take a few risks, Dane. Plant satsumas.”
He scratched his scalp.
She stole a quick kiss. “I’m looking forward to our date.”
Nodding, he pulled his keys out of his jeans pocket. “If the holidays mean I get to spend more time with you, I’m starting to like them.”
The gesture warmed her heart, but she had her arms full. “Happy New Year’s Eve. Now, scoot!”
Laughing, he turned toward the jeep.
A rusty station wagon pulled into the parking lot, parked next to the listing camper, and rattled into place. Mariah and Dane Palmer, Sr. climbed out of the vehicle.
“Apparently, you’re tardy,” she said.
He rubbed his chin. “Apparently.”
Mariah waved like a friendly schoolteacher, but crow’s feet fanned from her eyes, and she maintained the set smile of a woman who knew how to accomplish work. Dane Palmer Sr. looked like he had twenty years on Dane. Kada had a hard time ignoring his sun-kissed brown hair and broad shoulders, but he lacked his son’s charisma.
“There’s my first born,” Mariah said. “I thought I lost him in the pump house!” Barreling across the parking lot, she wrapped her arms around Dane’s torso and squeezed tight. “Did you forget today’s New Year’s Eve?”
At the pressure on his wounds, he winced, but he dropped a kiss onto her hair. “Hello, Mama.”
Jud stepped out of the vehicle.
The minute Kada saw him, she knew buying extra buns was the right thing to do. The guest count at the Starlight Motel had increased by three, but Jud looked like he could eat for the team. Lowering her groceries to the truck bed, she brushed her hair out of her face and stepped forward. “I’m so glad you came down to join us. We’re playing it by ear, but I think tonight’s celebration will be one to remember.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Disentangling from her son, Mariah hugged her, but she peered toward the motel. “I haven’t seen Larissa in ages.”
“She’s probably in the main building. When we left, she was hip-deep in record boxes and dusty memories.”
Rubbing her hands, Mariah strode across the parking lot.
Kada stared at the three Palmer men. “You guys feeling strong?”
Jud flexed.
Leave it to the younger son to put on a show. She shifted the bag of buns in her arms. “I have a crate behind the main building holding a few surprises. Actually, it’s a box full of fireworks supplies.”
Choking out a cough, Jud nodded.
Dane and his father exchanged glances.
Nothing about their shared look said “safe and sane,” but she tried not to laugh at their assumptions. When she said she had something new planned for the New Year’s Eve celebration, she meant the fireworks, but letting community members help with set up fit the holiday spirit. Then again, Dane was more than a community member.
How could anyone dislike fireworks? The company organizing the show promised professionalism, safety, and a spectacular show. If two people could fill the sky with light to celebrate a wedding, she could fill it with light to celebrate the beginning of a new chapter for herself and everyone at the Starlight Motel.
She told herself asking the men to unpack the pyrotechnics was nothing more than a time-saving convenience. As soon as they unpacked the crate, moved plywood sleds into the shrub, and carried out crates of flammable and combustible materials, the New Year would arrive in a shower of sparks. If they bailed? She adjusted the buns. She would cart the supplies to the desert without them.
Dane Sr. nodded. “Point us in the right direction.”
Exhaling, she wet her lips. “Are you sure?”
He nodded.
She bounced on her toes and squealed.
Dane picked up the dog food and dropped his head. “You owe me.”
“What?” she asked.
“Another kiss.”
She felt her cheeks warm. Backing away before she did something familiar and claimed a kiss in front of his family, she jerked a thumb toward the main building. “I’ll get you gloves and…things.”
“Things?” Jud hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
“A crowbar.” She waited.
His gaze widened.
Laughing, she carried the buns toward the kitchen and set them on the countertop. The cleaning crew had the day off, and the cantina staff extinguished their holiday obligations. She had a secret weapon, her family. With their help, she could handle the next few days.
Inés would be back from the cathedral by sundown. Gustavo Dyson and his dog probably spent the day shooting arrows into archery targets, but he would return with an appetite. She had no idea what Chris Nicholson did with his day, but she had a hunch his activities involved the air museum. If he spent the day regaling the kids with old war stories, then she would probably have to comp him his room. The thought of him bouncing kids on his knee while wearing a fedora made her grin.
Mack, Sue, and the kids might have plans worthy of Midwestern pyromaniacs, but if they wanted to celebrate at the Starlight Motel, she was happy to have them. Missy Roberts? Well, the realtor could be a hot mess, but she was welcomed, too.
Opening the walk-in cooler, she inventories supplies. Benito had enough raw meat to make hamburgers, chilled avocados to make guacamole, and sliced fruit to make agua frescas .
The lightly sweetened drinks shined with one hundred percent fresh juice, but they required a lot of work. Benito often mixed the juice ahead of time and kept a pitcher of sweetener set aside to respond to the crowd’s mood. More kids? More sugar. Lazing adults? He added things like ginger. Concentrates and store-bought mixes never measured up.
She appreciated his subtlety, but she was a muralist, not a professional chef. As long as she could feed the motel’s guests, she would give Benito a raise for stocking the pantry, and she would deflect any compliments to the chef. Actually, as soon as she found Dad, she would inform him he received an upgrade to grill master. Grinning, she headed straight back into the sunshine to check on Lucky. Instead of clean, open air, she bumped into Dane carrying dog food.
“You forgot this bag,” he said.
She held out her arms.
“I’ll carry it.”
Considering her options, she turned toward the casita . In all the times Mariah had visited to review her, she had never mentioned knowing Mom. Were the two the same age? Were they high school buddies or frenemies? Given how little she had heard about the Palmer family, she had assumed Mom and Mariah didn’t double-date through high school. “Did you tell your mom you sat on a cactus?”
He shifted the weight in his arms. “Not yet.”
Despite the oncoming holiday, a light afternoon wind pushed the pool floats into the pool’s corner. Mist fans softened the dry air, and patio lights swayed. A few reclusive guests occupied pool chairs and absorbed the sunlight into their bronzing limbs. She could offer Dane a dip in the pool to clean up, but seeing him shirtless would interfere with her work. “Your blood-spotted shirt gives you away.”
Craning his neck, he looked over his shoulder and frowned.
She passed two palms, opened the white gate, and leaned a hip against the post. “Make up a heroic story to explain your injuries.”
“I saved you, didn’t I?” he asked.
For so long, she thought she was the person making grand gestures, but her privilege and her ambitions narrowed her perception of who needed help. Taking the bag from his hands, she swallowed the lump in her throat. He saved her from traffic, and he reminded her successful people still needed art. Said people might be a little nearsighted, but their flaws made them sexier, and in exchange for art class, Dane could offer lessons on kissing. Once she had a handle on him, she might mention how much his attention soothed her anxieties. “Did I say thank you?”
He dragged his heel through the desert dust.
Her hands tingled, and she itched to reach for him, but she held the bag. “Sometimes, I’m too hard on myself. Maybe I was too hard on you, too.”
Looking up, he smiled. “You gave me something to think about.”
“And in return?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “My family’s crawling over the Starlight Motel, sorting through Hall’s treasures, and unpacking tubes stuffed with gunpowder. Despite my shortcomings, you’re stuck with me for a few hours. If I come up with a technological innovation or a grand failure, then you’ll be the first person to know.”
She bumped his hip. “I can think of worse things.”
Picking up a strand of her hair, he rubbed it between his fingers and let it drop. “Can you?”
She cleared her throat. “In the meantime, you should lose the button-up and grab a staff shirt. I don’t want you to scare the guests. Unless you want to take a dip? I can throw your shirt in the washing machine.”
Dropping her hair, he rubbed the back of his head. “I have fond memories of the washing machine…”
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
He grinned. “Only a dull ache.”
She understood dull aches and the way they could subside into memories or bloom into unavoidable needs. If kissing Dane Palmer came with consequences, she needed to figure out her stance and fast. “I’ll come find you in a few minutes.”
He nodded.
Turning from his rangy, laconic smile, she fled inside the casita and left the sunshine to those better suited for the breath-stealing altitude. Inside her house, back to the door, she lowered the dog food to the floor and sank to her knees.
From a sunlit patch of flooring, Lucky raised her head.
Checking to make sure Lucky ate and drank, she crawled across the old, worn floorboards, stroked Lucky’s ears, and sat with her legs crossed near the window. “How’re you feeling?”
Wrinkling her nose, Lucky lowered her head.
With a light touch, she ran a hand along Lucky’s side. She could feel the puppies moving. The sensation thrilled her and gave her pause. With lives on the line, she couldn’t afford to waver from her priorities. Pulling back a hand, she settled it in her lap. “I ran my mouth about the power of failure, but I don’t want to fail you. Would you be happier at the vet’s clinic? Dr. Vo seemed nice.”
No response.
Taking a deep breath, she lived in the now. Why did the now come fraught with so many dangers? Tomato blight was the least of her concerns. To avoid failing Lucky, she would sponsor an entire field of nightshades, close her eyes, and hope she came through this experience with six wiggling puppies to snuggle.
Remembering the things her therapist recommended, she counted her achievements and focused on the next right thing. She needed to attend to motel operations, supervise the New Year’s Eve celebrations, and make sure nobody went to bed hungry.
Instead, she rested a hand on her chin and idly stroked Lucky’s ear. The silky texture soothed her. “I’m making a lot of fuss, aren’t I? If I could keep to my designated square and stop being such a busybody, I could limit how overextended I feel.” Pausing, she thought about how simple life could be.
Lucky raised a paw and scratched at her arm.
She resumed stroking the sweet animal. As long as Lucky took comfort from the gesture, she was happy to continue.
Unless Lucky comforted her? Looking out the window, she replayed the prior year. She had sheltered her mom and kept the motel going, but without Mariah’s support, she might have thrown up her hands and returned to corporate advertising. If she needed a pack of dogs to anchor her to the desert’s nurturing warmth, she might be the lucky one.
She stilled a hand. “Just so you know, I graduated at the top of my class. I’m an awesome muralist. Also, I haven’t bankrupted the motel.”
Lucky yawned.
Recalling the price of the artificial tree, she hoped nobody overhead her claims. The centerpiece would make a brilliant social media background, but it would also shine like a beacon and mark her time managing the property. “Okay, I’m not turning much of a profit, but I’m an artist. I thrive on eccentricities.”
Lucky farted.
An awful earthy smell filled the casita , and she scrambled to her feet. “Look, Mama, you do you, but warn me next time.”
Closing her eyes, Lucky nearly smiled.
She picked up the pamphlet Dr. Vo left behind. The pictures and captions showed happy, healthy puppies. She didn’t have a kiddie pool, but she could make Lucky comfortable during labor and the puppies’ scramble for milk.
Pulling an old quilt out of the closet, she spread it on the floor beside Lucky’s sunlit spot, tugged short bookcases into place, and left an opening wide enough for a baby gate. If everything worked out, tiny claws would scratch up the casita’s wood floors, and she couldn’t think of a cuter sound.
After the puppies weaned, she would find every one of the precious little mutts a home. Taking on new challenges was one thing, but taking on a litter of them would be insane.