Cider House Fools, page 29
After the mall Balthasar took us back to downtown Riverton. We spent an hour visiting the small specialty stores and enjoying the decorations. Bennett took me into a fromagerie ran by an impressive cheese monger who managed to sell me one hundred- and eighty-dollars’ worth of cheese. Bennett found a bookstore and came out with four books. When I asked her what she bought she mumbled something about Lords and Dukes while blushing furiously. We’ll see if Balthasar will get his dibs on reading them next. Any book that can make a woman who brings four men to their knees blush has got to be filthy.
A light snow starts falling when we reached the town center. Food trucks are parked around the square. We all get enormous cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate. As we wander around the tree decoration competition, we find a tree in the middle with only garlands and tags. Bennett pulls one off. “These are sizes for kids who needs coats and hats and gloves,” she reads with dismay. “Balthasar, we should take the toys back and buy this stuff.” Her eyes fill with tears she can’t wipe away because her hands are full of cinnamon roll and hot chocolate. She sniffles, biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “Dang it! I’m having such a great time. And it’s not like kids being cold and hungry is anything new.” She blinks rapidly and turns to Balthasar. “Am I being ridiculous? Are toys frivolous? Times are really tough for everyone right now. I didn’t even ask if Smith can really afford all of that,” she whispers.
Whittaker and I exchange glances. “Bennett, Smith has been one thousand percent focused on his business since he came home. He would never jeopardize that, not even for charity.” Balthasar’s eyes plead with me to fix this.
I drain my cocoa and toss it in the trash. “Bennett, take a deep breath. I see your mind whirling. Balthasar is right. Do you want to call Smith and ask him?” Whittaker has disappeared. I shove my cinnamon roll in the trash regretfully and pull out my phone. I hit Smith’s number and pray he answers.
She takes the phone and wonders off. Balthasar and I follow, not caring one whit if she wants privacy. Our girl is feeling bad, and we want to be on hand to comfort her. Relief courses through me when she smiles without saying a word. Quietly she thanks him and hands me back the phone. “Better?” I ask, kissing her forehead.
“Yes.” She turns, frowning at the tree. “Smith said I can buy as many coats as I want to. He also said not to worry about money, that he makes donations at Christmas every year. Where are all the tags?”
Whittaker pops out from the back of the tree. “Right here.” He thrusts a handful of tags in her face. The smile that breaks over her is like the sun after a thousand years of night.
That fucker. Franklin and Balthasar 0, Whittaker and Smith 2.
The next stop is a bulk grocery outlet. “Are we here to get the food for the service?” Bennett asks with a tremble in her voice. She slows, coming to a halt as she starts gulping air and wrestling for emotional control. Balthasar looks over his shoulder. I jerk my chin towards the store. He claps a hand on Whittaker’s shoulder and steers him ahead of Bennett and I.
“The service is in three days,” I remind her gently.
“I know. I haven’t even made a menu,” she exclaims.
“But I have. Do you trust me? I talked to your mom about it. I swear I would never go behind your back, and it had nothing to do with your competence. My only thought was to honor your grandmother, not only by serving the food she loved, but taking care of things so you can have the time you deserve to mourn.”
She drops her face in her hands. One harsh sob later, she’s sucking in air and wiping her face off. “Okay,” she blows out a huge breath. “Of course, I trust you Franklin. I trust you with my food, my restaurant, and my heart. I can trust you with the last meal I’ll cook for Gran. God, I never imagined this day coming.”
I sling an arm around her, and we start making our way up the parking lot slowly. “Your Gran sounds like she was a pretty amazing person. Tell me about her.”
“That will take longer than one trip through a store.” She sniffs and pinches her nose. “She loved Stayman. She loved the farm. And she loved kids. She was a fifth-grade teacher. She was always participating in food and clothing drives. She knitted caps for the OB ward at Spellman hospital. She was my best friend. I love my mom, but we are two completely different people. After my dad died, I was lost, and no one understood me like Gran did. I’ll always be grateful to my mother for letting me stay on at the farm.”
The doors whoosh open to the store. It’s full of people. Bennett surveys the crowded entrance and shudders. “I suddenly do not feel like doing this. Where’d Balthasar and Whittaker go?”
I scan the store and frown. “You want to go wait in the truck until I find them?”
She blows out a breath. Her face firms with resolution. “No. I want to buy this place out. I’m not going to spend the next few days weeping while you guys do all the work. Gran would never do that. I’m going to work my ass off and give her the best sendoff I can. What’s on the menu? I’m not saying goodbye to Gran with bulk macaroni salad and barbequed cocktail wieners. She deserves better.”
I pull her tight against my side and lean over her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “That’s my best friend and bad ass restaurateur. John has a large smoker at Plowed and says he has a friend with a BBQ truck we can use. I was thinking pulled pork with apple slaw, dill potato salad, fruit and veggie platters, and couple of crocks of vegan meatballs. We can order buns from here. The ladies at the VFW said they would handle desserts. It’s not fancy, just an elevated version of the foods her people know and love. It’s a menu that blends your talents with the foods her community loves.”
“It’s perfect,” she sighs, grabbing a cart. “You’re perfect. Thank you. Can we add in funeral potatoes? Everyone in Michigan likes funeral potatoes.”
“Your mother said to expect around two hundred and fifty people. We think about fifty kids will show up. Smith is buying a stack of gift cards to cover any miscalculations on gifts. We’re numbering the gifts and making a list so sex and age aren’t a huge barrier to buying. If Susie wants matchbox cars and Georgie wants a banjo we can make that happen.”
“Franklin that is genius. It’s perfect. I hated dolls when I was little. I liked Breyer horses and my easy bake oven.” She pushes the cart straight down the main aisle, craning her neck as she walks. She’s looking for the guys.
“Bennett? Bennett Vanderberg? What do we have here? Shouldn’t you be running your fancy restaurant off in Connecticut or New Hampshire? And who is this?” A tall woman with gleaming black hair reaches over and clamps a hand on the cart. Her deep brown, almond shaped eyes flare as a her obvious filled, expertly painted mouth curves up in a hard, calculating smile. She might be attractive if she didn’t have the same expression as a hawk circling prey.
“Corinne,” Bennett nods at the woman, eyes hesitantly curious as they light on the woman’s face. I watch the subtle struggle Bennett makes to tamp down any reaction before she turns her head and scans the aisle to her right.
“Franklin,” I nod at the woman, stepping back as she reaches out to touch me. I don’t like the catty curl of her lips or the nasty gleam in her eye. She doesn’t like Bennett. Animosity emanates like pheromones through her puffy jacket, caring the cloying sent of the perfume she bathed in with it. Warning bells are clanging in my head. I don’t want this snake anywhere near Bennett.
“Home for the holidays?” She prods.
“What?” Bennett asks absently.
“Have you seen—” Corrine starts and stops, staring past Bennett. Her face morphs into a hard line. I turn to see what she’s caught her attention. Balthasar and Whittaker are pushing a cart full of clothing up behind us. The smile falls from Balthasar’s face. Whittaker’s becomes a hard mask of indifference, the joy of the day draining out of him.
“Corinne. What an unpleasant surprise. Shouldn’t you be bromating?” Balthasar melds to Bennett’s other side.
Corinne’s eyes narrow but she chooses to ignore Balthasar. “I’m not even surprised. I should have known the minute she shows up he’d crawl out of his cave.” Corinne leans over the cart, her eyes laser focused on Whittaker. “I hope the universe showers you with the same love and acceptance you gave Camille.”
Balthasar whistles. “Slow down there Corinne. All that filler is making you spit when you hiss.”
“Fuck off and die Balthasar,” she grits, turning to me. “Franklin, I don’t know how long you’ve been with her, but you might want to prepare yourself. She’s intimately acquainted with all of them. God, Bennett, you’ve been gone for years. How long did it take you to crawl into their beds? Thank God Smith is done with that disgusting behavior.” Bennett stiffens besides me. I can feel her rib expand through her wool coat as she inhales, her nostrils flaring over her tightly pressed lips. Balthasar plucks Corinne’s hand off the cart.
“I don’t know how this place is open with all the vermin in the aisles. Corinne, it wasn’t nice to see you. Fuck off and slither back to your hole.” He wraps an arm behind Bennett and pushes the cart forward. I follow, craning my head to look back. Corinne is stabbing a finger into Whittaker’s chest. His face is hard, his mouth a harsh line in his face. Chips of ice stare straight ahead. Whatever he’s seeing is from the past. Why is he standing there and taking her verbal lashing? I’m about to stop Balthasar when Corinne storms off and leaves Whittaker to catch up.
Bennett stops and turns, quietly waiting for Whittaker to catch up. Questions ripple across her expressive face, but she waits for him to speak. He shrugs. “I got the coats.”
Her head turns to the side slightly, her eyes locked on his. Her lips press together then relax, the corners wavering as she decides what to say. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip as she whispers, “Thank you.”
Balthasar meets my eyes over her head. I nod. I don’t know who this woman is, but she’s dropped Smith in a potential vat of hot water and revealed something about Whittaker he doesn’t want to talk about. I sigh. All the progress we made today possibly to hell by some bitch with enough Botox in her forehead to cure the Midwest of migraines.
“Let’s go. I want to get this done. Do you have a key to the VFW so we can drop this off? This isn’t going to fit in a regular refrigerator.” Bennett grabs her long hair and pulls it over her shoulder. It’s a nervous gesture. She’s a chef. She isn’t used to wearing it down.
I want to abandon the groceries, pick her up like a caveman, throw her over my shoulder and haul her ass out of here. I don’t understand the dynamics of what just went down, but I have a feeling Bennett does and it’s got her tore up. But I heard her earlier. She wants to be in charge of throwing this event for her grandmother. Whatever is going on between her and Whittaker and that woman, it’s none of my business other than how it affects Bennett. “I bet we can fill this cart and check out in one hour. Whittaker, go check out and load your stuff in the truck. Balthasar, get a cart. We’ll split the list. I’ve got Melanie’s membership card and a blank check.”
Bennett’s eyebrow’s fly up in surprise. “Supermarket Sweep sans trivia?”
I grin and whip out four identical folded pieces of paper out of the inside pocket of my jacket and spread them out like a hand of cards. “I made four though.”
She snatches one out of my hand and opens it. “No fair, that’s cheating!” Balthasar whines. I shake my head. Balthasar is raring to go. I know he has no idea what Supermarket Sweeps are, but he’s all for the game he senses is about to go down. Bennett carefully folds the paper and tears it into three.
“There. Let’s fill these carts and get the hell out of here. I’m whipped and we still have to put this all away.” I let them each choose a list, along with a piece of the one Bennett split. I’m glad to see Bennett filled with purpose, but I have a bad feeling about what’s happened. I push the cart down the center aisle after Bennett and Balthasar choose aisles down the side. I didn’t put the pork on any of the lists. No one but me is going to pick that out. Choosing cuts of meat will give me time to figure out how to fix the new mess we’ve fallen into.
Two hours later and we are out of the store and under a twinkling black velvet sky. The groceries are put away in the kitchen of the VFW. We’re back at Gran’s and Bennett is in her room changing. My phone rings. It’s John. He wants me to come over and check out the smoker’s he’s got. It’s a good idea. I’ll need to get started the day after tomorrow and that doesn’t leave a lot of time to make alternate arrangements if what he has won’t work.
Smith meets me at Plowed. The smokers John has along with the trailer he borrowed will be plenty big enough for me to smoke enough meat for three hundred people. After we check out the equipment and make arrangement to pick it up and transport it to the VFW we head in for a beer. I fill him in on the day, but I need a second beer when we get to end of the evening.
“Fuck. I didn’t even think about Corinne.” He motions to the bartender and downs half of his new beer in one swallow.
“Who is she?”
“I dated her when Whittaker was dating her sister. Corinne’s had a thing for me since high school. She’s always known there was something between the four us and she was…determined to cull me away from Bennett. She’s made nasty remarks before about Bennett having more than she deserved.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “Wow. You dated the town’s self-appointed social judge and jury who can’t put high school behind her. I wouldn’t have guessed that for you.”
“It’s more than that.” He rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes and exhales. “I don’t know how much I should I say. This is really Whittaker’s story.”
“I think you should tell me what I need to know to support Bennett. I don’t give a fuck about Corinne, or frankly Whittaker if he’s keeping things from Bennett that she should know. She’s emotionally maxed out right now, and don’t forget she’s still dealing with that asshole ex of hers.”
Smith mulls it over. I can see the moment his face relaxes he’s decided to spill. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself if you can.” I nod. “Whittaker was married to Corinne’s sister. It happened fast. It was like he woke up one morning and realized Bennett was never coming back and that was that. He was determined to get on with his life and decided that he wanted a wife and kids. Corinne’s sister Camille was a sweet girl. She looked at Whittaker like he was a god. She chose him and his dreams for the farm when Bennett didn’t. It’s not hard to see how he might have convinced himself that he could learn to love her.”
“Hard to believe after meeting Corinne. She’s nasty. I could feel her evil the moment she tried to sink her talons in my arm.” I take another swig of my beer as my heart skips a beat. What happened to Whittaker’s wife? “You said was?”
“Camille is alive and well last I heard, wherever she is. I know it sounds arrogant as hell, but I believe it was Corrine who pushed her on Whittaker. I think she did it to get close to me. Corrine’s been trying to get in my pants since high school. Whittaker’s always had that brooding, mysterious thing going for him. A few smiles from him and Camille was a goner. Corinne used her sister’s natural sweetness and inexperience to take advantage of everyone in the situation. That doesn’t absolve Whittaker. He was broken. Camille didn’t see it. I know he married her with good intentions, but he never was able to fully give himself to her. Poor girl didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve the scraps Whittaker threw her or her snake of a sister pushing her on a man who ruined by another woman.” He plunks his empty bottle on the table.
“Man, that sucks all around,” I offer lamely. My heart hurts, for both the young woman who was Whittaker’s collateral damage and for the man himself. Smith is right. I shouldn’t be digging into Whittaker’s personal life. That’s Whittaker’s story to tell.
“I fucked her.” He grimaces. “I fucked her one time when I was so drunk I couldn’t have spelled my name correctly. She won’t give up. I don’t know how she does it. She’s already been divorced twice.” His eyes drill into me. “I’ve never loved another woman. I’ve never wanted to. I don’t sleep around, but I haven’t remained celibate.”
“Hey, man, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Try finding the perfect person to settle down with when you like your bread buttered on both sides.” Smith huffs a laugh and smiles. “Listen, maybe I’m overstepping here, but I feel like this needs to be said.”
He nods, waiting for me to speak. “I know I’m the new guy here, but it’s not hard to deduce what it might feel like being the only straight guy in the bunch. I would never presume to know how you feel, but I think you know that you were always the one that she…”
“That she what?” He leans forward, his breath quickening. I need to tread carefully here. I need to find the right words.
“When Bennett would talk about the three of you, which wasn’t often, it was always when she spoke of you that she looked the most lost. It has nothing to do with the fact that she loved anyone more or less. I think it was because she knew in her heart if she came home, Balthasar and Whittaker would be here. It was you she mourned.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense. Balthasar and Whittaker had each other to turn to for comfort. And believe me, they spent a lot of time fucking away their pain. Balthasar has fucked every hole he deemed pretty in a hundred-mile radius while keeping Whittaker’s ass raw. I never looked at another woman until long after she left.” His eyes are haunted. My heart clenches in sympathy. If he’s riding the regret bus, I’m sitting right across the aisle from him. “You’re right,” he blurts.
“About what?” I ask, blinking to clear my head. My mind is filled with the lost opportunities I had over the years to deal with my demons and stake a claim on Bennett.
