A Good Measure, page 14
The first woman eyed her. “You should explain that Jon is on the autism spectrum and when he latches onto something, he never forgets it.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, my grandson has Asperger’s and my son’s family has never taken a real vacation before because money has been tight, but last year they did, and it was very special for Jon—he loves ice cream and he considers himself to be a connoisseur.”
Payton smiled and handed them their coffees. “Very nice!”
“Jon’s getting his own apartment soon, too,” the woman continued, “and his driver’s license. His parents want him to be more independent.”
Payton nodded, listening in wonder to the direction the simple conversation with strangers was taking. “Well, Tennyson’s ice cream is the creamiest on earth, so I’m sure you’ll like it.”
The woman nodded. “I’m sure we will, too.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I’m just a plain ole vanilla girl, so nothin’ fancy for me.”
The first woman chuckled. “You are anything but plain ole vanilla, dear,” she said with a mischievous come-hither smile.
“Oh, you!” the silver-haired woman replied, laughing and affectionately nudging her.
Payton frowned uncertainly as a light flashed on and off in her preoccupied brain. Were these two women flirting? Were they a couple? They seemed so comfortable . . . and almost intimate with each other, and they obviously enjoyed one another’s company, but what exactly was their relationship? “Well, Tennyson’s vanilla is the best there is. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“Thank you,” the second woman said. “I’m sure we will.” Then she looked at her friend. “Did you get the shirt you wanted?”
“Yes, I got two—one for me and one for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” She looked at Payton and smiled. “Thank you.”
As they walked away, their hands touched and they discreetly clasped pinkies before going outside with their coffees.
Payton watched them, smiling wistfully. “Hmm . . . maybe such a life is possible,” she murmured, and then her eyes widened. “I wonder if Tennyson’s Dairy Bar knows there’s a tour bus headed their way!” She called Libby to warn her and then she looked up at the clock and realized it was after three! “I have an appointment,” she called as she pulled off her apron. “Will you guys be okay?”
Cash looked up from the register. “I didn’t know you had an appointment today.”
“I forgot,” Payton lied. “They called a little while ago to remind me.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”
Payton nodded. Cash had been oddly helpful all week, and he seemed to be managing just fine on his own at Ames’s house. He hadn’t burned it down or flooded it, and he was even outside early every morning with Ned, both of them ready to be picked up. Maybe Ames was right—maybe he just needed the chance to prove himself. She grabbed her bag, and headed for the door, and as she walked through the now-empty patio behind the shop, she straightened a few chairs and grabbed a stray napkin that had blown to the ground, and it was then that she noticed—for the first time—how neatly manicured the gardens were. Clusters of black-eyed Susan, bee balm, and echinacea were all starting to come up, and everything around them was neatly weeded and cultivated. She knew Cash enjoyed gardening, but when had he found time to work out here? She always assumed that when he was sitting out here on his break, he was playing games on his phone, but obviously, he’d made time to tend the garden, too. “That kid,” she murmured, half smiling. “It’s getting so I never know what to expect.”
Ten minutes later, Payton parked in front of the office and looked up at the building, knowing that when she came back out, her life would be different.
26
THE SLEEPY STREETS OF SAVANNAH WERE SHROUDED IN MIST WHEN CHASE KNELT on the sidewalk in front of Pride Travel to tie his running shoes. He stood up and swung his arms in circles, trying to loosen his shoulders, and then leaned over, keeping his long muscular legs straight, and held the back of his ankles, which made his hamstrings sing. He’d always been limber and athletic, but the last few years, he’d begun losing the easy flexibility he’d enjoyed as a youth. “I think I must’ve done something to my shoulder when we were working on the barn because it hasn’t been the same since,” he said, watching Liam stretch the arch of his foot on the curb.
“Well, we’re not getting any younger,” Liam replied. “Aches and pains come with the territory. They say getting old isn’t for wimps.”
“That’s the truth,” Chase agreed, “but we aren’t even thirty yet.”
“We will be before you know it.”
Chase raised his eyebrows. “And we’re gonna be old parents at the rate we’re going.”
As they trotted toward Forsyth Park, Chase set the pace. In the short time they’d lived on Tybee Island, Chase had fallen in love with the neighboring historic old city designed by James Oglethorpe. He loved the layout and the parks and the old houses, and he especially loved Savannah’s mysterious and beguiling reputation as the most haunted city in the country . . . not to mention the undoubtedly spirit-filled Bonaventure Cemetery, which was the setting of the book he’d just read, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. “Let’s go to the cemetery!”
“Again?” Liam asked, shaking his head. “Now I know why you don’t want to run on the beach—you just like running through that old creepy cemetery.”
“I do,” Chase admitted, laughing. “We’ve been running on Tybee Island since we moved here, and running on the beach makes my calves ache. Besides, it’s fun to run in town, and since we have an office with an upstairs apartment now—and a shower, we can run before work.” They turned onto East Anderson and continued along the quaint, quiet street, the only sounds coming from a delivery truck dropping off newspapers.
“Have you given any more thought to getting married at the farm?” Chase asked between breaths as they picked up the pace.
“I have, and I still don’t know. I don’t want to take away from Gage and Maeve’s day, and I always thought we’d just have a small ceremony—you and me, and a couple of friends.”
“I know what you mean—I guess I always imagined it that way, too,” Chase said, shaking his head. “Even though my dad was accepting—or at least he said he was accepting, especially after he brought up the Bible and I countered with rules that are in the Bible that just don’t make sense—like how it says planting two different crops together or wearing two different types of fabric are sins—I still think he might turn over in his grave if I got married on his farm.” He paused. “On the other hand, I do love a big wedding, and I think it would be fun to have our families there.”
Liam shook his head. “My sister might come, but I honestly don’t think my parents will.”
Chase wiped his cheek on his shoulder. “Do you still want to tell them in person?”
“I do,” Liam said. “I just don’t know when. We’re so busy right now.”
“Well, we’ll just have to go—even if it’s only for a weekend. We won’t know until we ask.”
Liam nodded. “I know.”
They reached the entrance to the cemetery and Chase stopped. He pulled his arm in front of him, still trying to stretch his tight shoulder. “I heard Johnny Mercer is buried here. Let’s see if we can find him.”
The sun was still trying to burn off the morning mist, and the hazy light filtering through the Spanish moss gave the cemetery an ethereal golden glow. “Sheesh!” Liam said, looking around. “It’s even spooky in the daytime.”
“It is,” Chase agreed, slowing to look at the names on the tombstones as they ran.
“Hey, there’s a sign,” Liam said, gesturing to a little arrow marker on the side of the road. They followed it, and moments later, they found themselves standing in front of the famous songwriter’s gravesite. “What songs did he write?”
“He wrote the lyrics for a bunch of old classics . . . ‘Moon River,’ ‘Days of Wine and Roses,’ and ‘One for My Baby’ . . .” He pointed to a curved stone bench in front of the grave. “Some of the titles are written here.”
“Oh, wow! I had no idea,” Liam said, reading the titles. “He wrote ‘Jeepers Creepers’!”
Chase nodded and stepped past the bench to look at the dates on the grave. “He was born in 1909 and died in 1976 . . . he was only sixty-six.”
“Young,” Liam said, standing beside him.
“Yeah, around the same age as my dad.” He looked up. “Ready?”
Liam nodded and they continued through the misty cemetery, looking at the ancient tombstones and markers. “A lot of old spirits in here.” He noticed another sign, marking the way to another gravesite and slowed down. “Let’s find Little Gracie Watson.”
“Okay,” Chase said, catching up. They followed the arrows until they were standing in front of a statue of a little girl. “Wow, she was only six! I wonder what happened to her.”
Liam walked over to a sign that was posted nearby. “She died of pneumonia, and her spirit is one of the more active ones in the cemetery.” He shook his head. “Do you believe this stuff?”
Chase laughed. “I don’t know, but sometimes I feel as if the spirit of a loved one might be nearby . . . like my grandfather.”
“I like that idea much better than a spirit haunting a house . . . or a cemetery.”
“There’s a house near our farm that everyone thinks is haunted. The old recluse who lived there died in his rocking chair and it was days before people realized he was dead.”
“No way,” Liam said, following him out through the entrance.
“Yeah, the story goes that his neighbors heard horrific sounds one night over at his place, but the next day he was sitting in his rocking chair so they all assumed he was fine, but three days later, he was still sitting there, rocking back and forth, and finally the sheriff went up on the porch to check on him and he was stone-cold dead.”
“That’s creepy,” Liam said.
Chase agreed. “It is creepy. My brothers used to dare each other to go knock on the front door, but Gage would never go. Me, on the other hand—I’d stand on the porch and recite poetry.”
“You’re such a rebel.”
“I know,” Chase said, laughing.
They ran along in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, but when they turned into Forsyth Park, Chase noticed an older gentleman sitting on a bench with a little white dog next to him. “Hey! There’re Matthias and Marmalade!” He slowed to a walk and stopped in front of them. “Hey there, Marmalade,” he said, kneeling in front of her. The little dog stood up, sniffed his outstretched hand, and began wiggling her whole hind end.
“Well, look who it is, Marmy-girl,” Matthias said, smiling. “Our old friend, Chase.” He pulled himself up, swaying a little, and extended his hand. “How are you, young man?”
“I’m fine, fine,” Chase replied, shaking his hand. He gestured to Liam. “This is my partner, Liam.”
Matthias turned to Liam. “Pleasure to meet you, Liam,” he said, shaking his hand. “Any friend of Chase is a friend of ours, right, Marm?”
The little dog wiggled over to Liam as he leaned down to scratch her ears. “Hello, there, Marmalade,” he said softly.
He stood up and listened while Chase and Matthias chatted. “You managing okay?” Chase asked, eyeing the paper bag on the bench, and what looked like a soggy sandwich in a newspaper next to it.
“Oh, sure, sure,” Matthias answered, swaying slightly. “We doin’ jus’ fine, aren’t we, Marm?”
Chase nodded, searching the old man’s glassy eyes and finding it hard not to notice his trembling hands. Finally, feeling genuine concern, he threw caution to the wind and asked him outright, “Do you and Marm have enough to eat? Because you can come to our office—we have an apartment upstairs and a shower . . . or I can bring you some food . . . or a hot cup of coffee . . .”
“No, no, we’re fine,” Matthias assured, waving him off. “We doin’ good, aren’t we, girl?” he said, looking down, and Marmalade wagged her tail and sat down resolutely at his feet.
Chase frowned uncertainly, obviously not convinced. He wanted to help—he wanted Matthias to come back to the office with them so he could give him a plate of nourishing food and Marmalade food that was suitable for a dog . . . along with a big fresh bowl of water! He wanted to give Matthias the opportunity to take a hot shower if he wanted, and to sleep in a safe, clean place. But how do you help someone who doesn’t want help? Who is too proud to accept help?
“Well, we best keep movin’,” the old man said abruptly. “The officers don’t like it if we stay in one place too long.” He reached down to pick up his paper bag and he almost fell over.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Chase pressed.
“I’m sure,” he said, and then he smiled. “Thank you, though. Your offer is very kind.” He eyed Liam. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said, shakily reaching up to tip his cap. “C’mon, Marmy-girl,” he said, untying the tattered rope from the end of the bench.
Chase and Liam both knelt down to pet Marmalade one more time, and in return, she leaned up and licked their cheeks. “Nice,” Chase said, smiling. “Thank you for the kiss!”
“We’ll see you soon,” Matthias said, and then he turned and shuffled away with his little dog beside him.
Chase and Liam watched them go. “Dang! I wish he’d let us help him.”
“Yeah,” Liam agreed, rubbing his eyes and starting to walk back to the office. “We better get back—it’s getting . . .” But before he could finish his sentence, he sneezed, and then he sneezed again. “What the heck?” he said between sneezes as his eyes started to water.
Chase caught up to him and looked over. “What the heck is right! I’m beginning to think we’re never gonna be able to have a dog.”
27
IT WAS THURSDAY BEFORE AMES AND QUINN HAD A CHANCE TO DRIVE DOWN THE Pacific Coast Highway to Monterey. “Oh, my goodness! It’s beautiful!” Ames said as they hiked along the cliffs of Big Sur.
“I hope you wore your bathing suit,” Quinn said, as they took a winding path to the beach, “because you can’t go home without going for a swim in the Pacific.”
“Payton said the same thing, and I did wear it,” Ames said, “but I doubt I’ll go in past my knees.” They walked along the sandy beach, carrying their sandals and getting their feet wet. “I can’t believe how quickly this week has flown by,” Ames mused out loud.
“Well, we’ve been busy!” Quinn said. “We went to Yosemite, hiked up to the falls, had lunch at the Majestic.”
“Yes, that was amazing!” Ames agreed. “I’ve seen pictures of the sequoias and the mountains, but pictures don’t do them justice. It’s sad to think some people live their whole lives and never get to see such grandeur in person. The next time I come out, I’m bringing Payton.”
“That would be fun,” Quinn said, smiling.
“I also love your café—it’s so quaint and so . . . you!” Ames said, looking over. “I hope you know how proud I am of you, Quinn.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Quinn said, putting her arm around her. “I’m proud of you, too, just for getting up the courage to leave Ned and come out here.”
“I guess he’s surviving—Cash sends me pictures all the time. He’s been taking him to the coffee shop during the day, and Ned’s been sleeping beside him at night. He doesn’t seem to miss me as much as I thought he would.”
“I’m sure he misses you. He’ll run circles around you when you get home.”
“Maybe,” Ames said, laughing.
Quinn picked up a smooth stone and skipped it across the water.
“Your dad taught you to do that,” Ames said.
“He did,” Quinn agreed. “And he taught me how to fish, too—I remember.”
“Do you miss him?”
Quinn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We should probably head back if we want to get some shopping in before dinner.”
Ames frowned and searched her daughter’s face. “I didn’t mean to upset you, hon.”
“You didn’t upset me, Mom. I just don’t think about Dad that much. I do miss the little things we did together, like skipping stones and fishing, but I don’t miss the way he treated you.” She pressed her lips together into a solemn line. “He was very dismissive and condescending, and he put pressure on you to stop doing the things you enjoyed, like softball and traveling. I think it was unfair . . . and unkind.”
“Well, one good thing came out of our marriage,” Ames said, gently placing her hand on her daughter’s cheek, “and that was you! If I hadn’t married your father, there would be no you, so it was meant to be.”
Quinn laughed. “Well, the way he treated you for forty years—which is almost your whole life—is a high price to pay.”
“There is no price too high for having you in my life.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Quinn said, wrapping her in a hug.
They walked back to the car, brushed off their feet, and headed into town for some shopping. Ames wanted to buy gifts for Payton and Cash, and in one of the first shops they came to she found a lovely silver necklace for Payton and a T-shirt for Cash that had the symbol for pi on it that looked like his favorite pepperoni pizza. Afterward, they found a quaint seafood restaurant and sat on the deck, overlooking the ocean. They dined on crunchy coconut shrimp, fire-roasted Baja salmon, and watching the sun set, and the whole time, Ames reveled in the company of the lovely young woman her daughter had become.
After seeming to dredge up unhappy memories by mentioning Frank, Ames tried to keep the conversation light, but finally, unable to suppress the mom-curious question any longer, she took a sip of her chilled sauvignon blanc and asked, “Soo . . . are there any new loves in your life that you’ve forgotten to mention?”
