A Turn in the Road Page 8
“What can I get you boys?” she asked, forcing herself to act as if she was in a theater production. Or one of those diner movies. All she needed was a wad of gum to go with the attitude.
“Boys?” Again it was the older man with the ponytail who responded. “Do I look like a boy to you?”
“It’s a figure of speech,” she said, holding her ground. “Would you like separate checks?”
“Please.” The one who answered was the most tanned of the group, which suggested he’d been on the road the longest. He had intense brown eyes and wore a leather bandanna tied at the base of his neck. His leather vest looked well-worn and he had on fingerless gloves. She almost mentioned that she was knitting a similar pattern for her son’s fiancée—but she didn’t. It was a good bet that he wouldn’t be interested in her latest knitting project.
“Cheeseburger, with double pickles and no onion,” the man sitting across from Ponytail told her.
Bethanne wrote that down. She looked over at the biker next to him, who ordered macaroni and cheese. Leather Bandanna ordered a bowl of chili and Ponytail wanted the pot roast special.
“I’ll have those out for you in a few minutes.” It wasn’t until she gave Marie the order that she realized she hadn’t asked if they wanted anything to drink. The coffeepot was full, so she carried it over to the table, and when they all righted their cups, she did her best to fill them without letting her hand shake. She didn’t want these men to know how nervous they made her.
Bethanne started to turn away when Ponytail stopped her. “Where’s your name tag?”
“Ah... I left it at home. I’m Bethanne.” As soon as she said it, she regretted not giving him a fake name.
“Bethanne,” he repeated, then nodded as though he approved.
“What’s yours?”
“I go by Rooster.”
“Rooster?”
“After the John Wayne movie,” one of the other bikers explained.
“Oh, okay,” Bethanne murmured. “True Grit, right? The original version.”
“Right.”
The biker pointed across the booth at the two other men. “That’s Willie and the good-looking one is Skunk. This here is Max,” he said, nudging the man beside him.
“Bethanne,” she repeated.
The two men across from Rooster nodded. Ignoring her, Max looked out the window. The two other bikers were adding cream to their coffee. Rather than encourage further conversation, Bethanne retreated behind the counter. Her hand trembled slightly as she returned the coffeepot to the burner.
The door opened again, and a steady stream of customers filed into the café. Bethanne glanced outside, seeing that the bus had arrived ahead of schedule. She’d been too distracted by the bikers to notice. She grabbed the coffeepot again and moved toward the counter, which had filled up first. Annie had taken on waitress duty, as well, and the two of them were running from one end of the café to the other. In no time the two coffeepots were empty.
“I need coffee down here,” an ill-tempered man shouted from the rear of the café.
“Coming right up,” Bethanne promised. She started taking orders and shuffled them to Marie as fast as she could. Once the coffee had finished brewing, she hurried to the grouch by the window. He had an entire booth to himself.
“Is this decaf?” he demanded.
“No... I don’t believe so.”
“Get me some decaf.”
“I’ll need to brew that. It’ll be a few minutes.”
“What kind of joint is this?” he complained loudly.
“Would you like me to take your order?” she asked, thinking charitably that he was probably hungry and tired.
“No, I want my decaf coffee.”
“Is that all?”
“No,” he said pointedly, “and the longer you stand here arguing with me, the longer I’m going to have to wait for my coffee. I have to get back on that bus, you know.”
Bethanne realized she should have automatically brewed a pot of decaffeinated coffee. There was simply too much to remember.
“I’ll get it,” Annie called out, and hurried toward the coffee machine.
Bethanne was still taking orders when she noticed the decaffeinated coffee was ready. Dropping off more orders with Marie, she picked up the coffeepot and rushed over to the complainer. He sat with his arms crossed, scowling. He didn’t bother to right his cup so she did it for him, and filled it to the brim.
“You overfilled it,” he snarled. “Now there’s no room for cream.”
“Sorry.” She reached for a second cup and poured again, leaving it three-quarters full.
“That’s only half a cup!” he nearly shouted. “I suppose you intend to charge me for a full one?”
Bethanne started to add more coffee when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Rooster, the older biker, stood directly behind her.
“Listen, buddy,” he said, and the threat in his voice made her shiver. She couldn’t see his face but she saw the reaction of the man with the coffee and he seemed to cower in the booth.
“I’m real hungry, and when I get hungry I get cranky. You’re delaying my meal. Trust me, you don’t want to see what happens when I get cranky.”
The other man didn’t move. In fact, it looked as if he’d stopped breathing. The rattle of dishes died down and conversation fell to a soft hush. Soon the whole café had gone silent as Rooster bent over the man in the booth.
“That coffee’s just fine now, isn’t it?” Rooster asked.
The other man nearly jerked his head off in his eagerness to assure Rooster it was.
“That’s what I thought.” Rooster gently patted Bethanne’s arm as he returned to his friends.
“I think your order’s up now,” she said. He winked as he passed by, and Bethanne did her best to disguise a smile but knew she hadn’t succeeded.
Still grinning she walked back to the kitchen and placed the orders for the four bikers on a large tray and delivered them to the table.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“I didn’t do that for you,” Rooster said, fork in hand. “I like my mashed potatoes and gravy hot.”
She was about to turn away when she became aware of Max, the man who sat beside Rooster, watching her. His eyes, dark and sober, met hers for a long moment. His look seemed to go straight through her and Bethanne felt herself flush. Her reaction embarrassed her but she didn’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t seeking any connection, romantic or otherwise. She was there to do a job—help Ruth’s friend—and that was it. Glancing away, Bethanne hurried back to the kitchen.
Eight
“Mom,” Annie said from the back seat of the car. “Have you ever been to Vegas?” This trip was turning out better than she’d hoped. But then, her expectations hadn’t been that high.
When her grandmother announced the day before that they were going to spend the night in Spokane, Annie had wanted to scream with frustration. Spokane? It was an all-right town, but it sure wasn’t exciting.
Well, visiting Pendleton, Oregon, wasn’t exactly like being in Paris. To be fair, they’d had a decent afternoon. She’d actually had fun waiting tables at the café, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked. The next time she ate in a restaurant, Annie knew she’d see the waitress in an entirely different light.
She’d suggested Pendleton because of her father. A little while ago, he’d mentioned that he’d been born there, although Annie couldn’t remember why they’d even been talking about it. That part wasn’t important, anyway. The one thing that did matter was getting a feel for what her mother was thinking about her father. Driving to Pendleton was Annie’s way of casually bringing him into the conversation. She wanted her mother to be thinking about him, to miss him and to consider reuniting the family.
The first place Marie took them was the old neighborhood. Annie saw the house where her grandparents had lived when Grant was born. It was small and drab and nothing like she’d expected. True, it was nearly fifty years older now, but she could hardly imagine her father living in such a tiny house. The yard was overrun with grass and thick with weeds. The sidewalk leading to the front porch was cracked. Someone had left a red wagon outside, along with a tricycle, so another young family occupied the house these days.
While Annie loved her grandmother’s stories, her attention was repeatedly drawn back to her cell phone.
Vance had texted her twice. His first message said he’d landed safely in Rome. Well, good for him.
She didn’t text back.
Then, less than three hours later, he sent her another message.
Miss you.
As far as she was concerned, he didn’t miss her nearly enough—or he wouldn’t have left. She didn’t answer that one, either, although it boosted her ego considerably that he’d attempted to contact her.
Nevertheless, Vance was out of her life. He’d taught her a valuable lesson and she was determined to learn from it. She was hurt by what he’d done and embarrassed by how oblivious she’d been. He’d lied to her, keeping his plans a secret. She should’ve known, though. In retrospect, there’d been clues, like his lack of interest in doing anything with her this summer and his frequent visits to Matt’s place—without her. What was that cliché about hindsight being twenty-twenty? She understood it now.
This thing with Vance was kind of eerie because it reminded Annie of when her father moved out. She’d commented on that to her mother, who’d agreed. Bethanne had been shocked when it happened; even Andrew hadn’t seen it coming.
Annie had been shocked at first, too, but when she thought about it, the signs had been there. Just like with Vance, but more obvious. Her father often got home late from the office and always seemed in a hurry to leave again. He’d bought her a new computer, too, for no reason. It wasn’t until much later that she’d realized his gifts were motivated by guilt, which proved he did have a conscience. Later, Annie had purposely ruined the computer, but that was beside the point.
Her mother had been totally blind to what her father was doing. That had infuriated Annie, who thought Bethanne should have recognized that her marriage was in trouble. A woman who’d been married for twenty years, who supposedly knew her husband...
Back then it’d been easy to blame Bethanne. Annie got over that fast enough, but some of her residual anger had lingered.
Until the night Vance dumped her.
Well, he didn’t officially dump her, but that was how it felt. Actually, she almost wished he’d ended the relationship completely. A clean break and all that.
Well, it didn’t matter because she was finished with Vance. He could send her all the text messages he wanted but she had no intention of responding. What she needed now was to have fun. A lot of fun.
She looked down at the map a second time. Vegas wasn’t that far, but she’d have to convince her mother and grandmother to head toward Nevada instead of South Dakota. Mount Rushmore wasn’t going anywhere. She’d let all her friends know where she was and eventually the news would reach Vance and then he’d regret what he’d done.
The taste of this small revenge was sweet on her tongue. Vance might think Rome was fun, but Annie could guarantee Vegas was a whole lot more exciting than touring some museum.
* * *
Annie’s question caught Bethanne by surprise. Vegas?
“Have you ever been to Vegas?” Annie asked again.
Where was this coming from? Bethanne was driving while Ruth napped beside her and her daughter sat in the back seat.
“Well, yes, your father and I were in Vegas years ago.” Grant had taken Bethanne to a Realtors’ convention. They’d stayed at one of the gigantic hotels on the Strip, and she remembered those three days fondly. Because of the divorce it was sometimes difficult to recall the good times she’d had with Grant. Like all married couples, they’d experienced ups and downs through the years. Every marriage did. It was easy to forget the laughter they’d once shared when her memories were tainted by Grant’s betrayal.
“You awake, Grandma?” Annie leaned forward to peer around Ruth’s seat.
“Mmm.”
“Have you been to Vegas?”
“No, never,” Ruth admitted. “Richard went there on business any number of times but I was always busy with the children.”
“We should go to Vegas!” Annie said, as if this was the idea of the century. “The three of us. We’d have a hoot.”
“We can do that one day,” Bethanne agreed. Their second day on the road, and so far, everything had gone well. They’d deviated from their plans once already, but this was Ruth’s trip, not Annie’s. Or Bethanne’s.
“I mean we should go now,” Annie said. “Really, how many road trips do the three of us expect to take together?”
“Now?” Bethanne asked. “You mean today?”
“Not exactly today. It’s a ways yet. I’ve got the map here, and if we head south on Highway 93 at Twin Falls we can reach Vegas tomorrow afternoon.”
“Honey,” Bethanne reminded her daughter for probably the fifth time. “Your grandmother has carefully planned our route and we’re going to South Dakota to see Mount Rushmore.”
“I know, but wouldn’t it be more fun in Vegas?”
Ruth didn’t comment one way or the other.
“It’s boring on the freeway,” Annie continued. “If we’re going to drive all the way across the United States, it’d be a lot more interesting on the highways and byways than the interstate.”
“Vegas,” Ruth murmured.
“Remember, you specifically mentioned Mount Rushmore,” Bethanne said mildly, not wanting to put pressure on her former mother-in-law, but not wanting her to be disappointed, either.
“I know I did,” Ruth said. “But that old mountain will be there until the end of time. Annie’s right. It isn’t every day that I have the opportunity to visit Las Vegas—and with two of my favorite people.”
“You mean we can actually go to Vegas?” Annie didn’t seem capable of containing her excitement.
“We’re going to Vegas!” Ruth shouted.
“And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Annie returned, laughing.
Bethanne had to smile, too. Vegas did sound like a lot more fun than elbowing her way through the tourist crowds anxious for a better view of Rushmore.
“Just promise me,” Ruth said, “that you won’t say a word about this to Grant or Robin. I promised them we’d stick to the freeway the entire trip, but Annie’s got a point. This is pretty dull driving. If we’re going to see the country, we need to get off the interstate. We should explore a little.”
“Look at the map and tell me where you want me to go,” Bethanne said. This was turning into far more of an adventure than she’d ever anticipated. Her stint as a waitress at Marie’s café yesterday had been quite an experience. Bethanne had nearly forty dollars, her share of the money they’d made in tips. Gambling money. The biggest surprise had been Max, the biker who sat next to the older man who called himself Rooster. It was Max whose eyes had connected with hers, Max who’d looked at her so...knowingly.
After the busload of customers left, Marie had prepared dinner for them all. Ruth said the chicken-fried steak was even better than she remembered.
The two older women sat, chatting over coffee, while Annie and Bethanne finished the cleanup. Later that night, after Marie had given them a quick tour of town, Bethanne had crawled into the hotel bed, exhausted and oddly exhilarated as she closed her eyes. As soon as she did, the image of the biker filled her mind. Max. He hadn’t spoken a word to her, other than to place his order. It’d been that brief look they’d exchanged. A couple of times Bethanne had tried to shake the memory and found she couldn’t.
She was getting fanciful, she’d thought. Downright silly. She had absolutely nothing in common with this biker, and it was highly unlikely she’d ever run into him again, which was just as well. She’d mumbled a prayer for him—there was something about the sadness in his eyes—and then she’d fallen almost immediately into a deep and peaceful sleep.
“We’re about an hour away from Twin Falls,” Ruth said, breaking into Bethanne’s musings. She glanced up from the map, which Annie had handed over to her. “I’ll need to cancel my hotel reservation again.”
“We should probably cancel them all,” Annie advised. “I mean, we’ve already changed Grandma’s plans once, and now we’re doing it again. It’s way more fun making plans as we go along, don’t you think?”
“It is,” Ruth said. “I’m so grateful to have the two of you with me. This is much better than driving alone.”
Bethanne smiled. Annie had added spontaneity and adventure to the trip. If it’d just been Ruth and Bethanne, she would’ve gladly followed her mother-in-law’s itinerary.
“Where should we spend the night?” Ruth asked, unfolding the map on her knees.
“Where do you suggest?” Bethanne asked.
“Hmm. There aren’t too many big towns on the way into Vegas. I think our best bet is Ely. Maybe Annie could check the internet for a hotel and make a reservation.”
“Good idea,” Bethanne inserted.
“How far is Ely from Twin Falls?” Annie asked.
“Oh...” Ruth paused, as though calculating the distance. “I’d say about three or four hours.”