A Change of Heart (15 page)

"A job?
 
You're kidding.
 
Doing what?"

"Soda fountain at Gleason's Drug Store."

Julie laughed.
 
"Whatever for?"

"For money, what do you think?"

"So you won't be able to help me then?"

"I can help some, sure.
 
Tomorrow is my first day and I guess I will find out my schedule then."

"Who'll take little Bobby when I need help with him?"

"Well, I don't know.
 
I'm pretty sure I'll be working most weekdays.
 
Gee, maybe even some weekends.
 
I don't know yet."

"I count on you, Annabeth.
 
You know I do."

"I know.
 
And I want to be there for you but I need to make money.
 
I'm getting divorced.
 
R.J. canceled my credit card and cleaned out the bank accounts.
 
I might even lose this house."

Julie was clearly distressed.
 
"That's terrible."
 
She stood and reached over to hug her sister.
 
"I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You won't be without me.
 
I'll help you as much as I can.
 
And of course, even if I do have to move, I'll still be here in town."

"Okay. I guess."

"Oh--did you bring back my gray slacks?"

"No, but I didn't forget them. They're at the cleaners.
 
I got something on them at the party, but I'm pretty sure they can get it out."

Annabeth sighed.
 
"Okay.
 
Now what did you want me to do tonight?"

Julie reached into her bag and retrieved a list and began to speak.
 
Annabeth listened, nodding, and some time passed as they discussed the art show.

Annabeth watched Julie drive away after having agreed to do as much as she could of the tasks her sister assigned.
 
She sat for a while, feeling the silence of the afternoon all around her, and she was bothered by a sense of uneasiness.
 
So many things had changed in such a short time.
 
Annabeth sighed at those changes, and at those to come, but there was more than that on her mind.
 
She felt guilty.
 
It was rare for her to behave in a selfish manner, and often when she got what she wanted there was a sense of guilt along with the pleasure.
 
What was it today?
 
Was it the sale of her husband's cars?
 
The wrath that he would no doubt visit on her?
 
She had betrayed his trust by selling his cars, yes she knew that, but somehow that was not the source of the guilt that plagued her now.
 
Her husband had abandoned her.
 
Her best friend was furious at her.
 
And her sister felt insecure and abandoned by her.
 
Surely some of this was her fault?
 
Annabeth pondered her life and the feelings of the people she loved. How was she to blame for these problems?
 
She didn't know, and once again she sighed.
 
This would probably be her last free afternoon for a while.
 
She looked at the sky, noting the position of the sun.
 
It would not set for a bit.
 
She could sit here now and think, but tomorrow she would be at work.

The next morning, Annabeth checked her watch half a dozen times while she made breakfast.
 
She didn't have to be there until eleven.
 
But being early was important.
 
At quarter to eleven, she walked into the drug store, but the person behind the prescription counter wasn't Chuck.
 
It was his father, Charles, a man in his late fifties.
 
His hair, formerly sandy, was now sparse, and he wore gold-rimmed glasses that veiled his watery blue eyes.
 
He was smaller than his son, perhaps only an inch or two taller than Annabeth herself.

She smiled at him as he looked up from his work to greet her.
 
"I'm Annabeth.
 
Chuck hired me to work here."

"Yes, hello.
 
He told me you'd be coming.
 
We got a shipment of ice cream just this morning.
 
And there are other supplies in the big refrigerator in back.
 
You'll need to straighten up the counter, wash the glasses, set up the freezer in front.
 
And then, once that's done, maybe you could straighten the shelves a little, dust a bit.
 
Do you know how to work a cash register?"

Annabeth shook her head.

"Let me show you that first thing."

Annabeth followed Charles around, trying to remember every detail he said and she learned to work the cash register.
 
"How about that!" she laughed, "It's not that hard at all."

Charles smiled at her, "No, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Annabeth worked silently for several hours, and eventually the ice cream counter gleamed, the glasses were sparkling and neatly stacked on their shelves behind the counter, the supplies were in perfect order, and even the stools were polished.
 
She stood back for a moment and admired her work.
 
Looking into every storage area behind the cabinet, Annabeth made sure that everything was in order and that she knew where each item was.
 
She pulled out a bag of waffle mix and studied the directions.
 
It seemed pretty simple.
 
She turned on the pizzelle machine and started producing hand made waffle cones and waffle cups, which she placed in the small dispenser on top of the counter.

Charles, who had been observing her from time to time, came out from his pharmacist's window and sat on one of the stools.
 
"That's a wonderful smell," he said.

"Want to be my first customer?"

"Think you could make me a hot fudge sundae in one of those waffle cups?"

"I sure hope so!" she laughed.
 
"Vanilla ice cream?"

Charles thought for a bit about his options.
 
"Coffee?" he mused.

"Oh!
 
A sophisticate!"

"Pistachio?"

"A rebel!"

"Strawberry?"

"A naturalist!"

Charles smiled at Annabeth in a friendly way.
 
It was probably a lot more congenial for him to have her working there than some teenager.
 
Annabeth smiled back; he was a nice man and working wasn't so hard.
 
"You know," she confided, "In fancy ice cream places in New Orleans they have exotic flavors like mango and kiwi."

"No kidding.
 
I've never even tasted a kiwi."

"Kind of sweet and tangy.
 
Now, for your sundae--what about a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of something else.
 
Pistachio.
 
That would be pretty."
 
Charles nodded in agreement and watched happily as she created his sundae in the waffle cup that was by now cool.
 

Although she was not overly busy, Annabeth found things to do, and the hours passed.
 
Before long it was eight o'clock, and time for her to leave.

"Hope we didn't work you too hard on your first day," said Charles.

"No, not at all."

"How will you manage supper for your family working so late here each night?"

"My daughter is off with her fiancé.
 
Nobody else to worry about."

"Oh, I see.
 
Normally Chuck and I take turns working late here.
 
Have to compete with the discount drugs on the highway."

Annabeth nodded.

"Usually I go right home, but tonight my wife is at her sister's house in Apalachicola.
 
I figured on grabbing a burger at the Rusty Lantern before going home.
 
Why don't you come along?
 
I mean don't get the wrong idea.
 
I just hate to eat alone."

"The Rusty Lantern?" she asked.
 

"They have better burgers than the fast food places.
 
Oh, you're worried because it's a bar.
 
Actually it's kind of fun on Wednesday nights. They have karaoke--you know--sing along.
 
It can be pretty funny to hear some of those crooners."

Annabeth hesitated.
 
"I've never been in a bar."

Charles smiled at her, saying, "You'll be safe with me."

It was a long, typically dimly lit room with the bar on one wall and a few brown vinyl booths on the opposite one.
 
In the middle of the room were maybe half a dozen tables.
 
On the back wall was a juke box, and to one side of it sat a cigarette machine with a small sticker proclaiming Welner Vending.
 
There was a small, high window at the front by the door, and in it was a neon sign with a picture of a lantern.
 
Below that were more tables, the ones chosen by people wanting only to eat.

"It's not so bad, is it?" asked Charles as he helped Annabeth to a seat.
 

The one waitress came over and took their burger orders almost instantly.

"Two burger plates with fries.
 
Is that okay with you?" he asked Annabeth, who nodded.
 
"I like mine well done."
 
Once again he looked toward her.

"Medium rare, please, but I like the fries well done."

"I'm going to have a beer.
 
Do you want one?"

"Just water for me," answered Annabeth.
 
"I'm not really a drinker."

The waitress went toward the kitchen to order their food as Charles continued, "There's nothing much else to do around here in the evening.
 
I mean if you want to socialize."

"And you said you usually go right home."

"I do.
 
Really.
 
I hope I'm not making a bad impression on you."

Annabeth looked down shyly, "No, of course not."

"I don't enjoy television as much as Sara does--that's my wife.
 
And she's not much of a night owl."

"My husband was on the road most of the time in the last few years."

"And now?"

"Now he's on the road permanently, so to speak."

"You're a widow?
 
I'm sorry."

"Oh gosh, no.
 
I'm getting divorced.
 
Just not used to telling people I guess."

"There's no harm in starting over.
 
Could be kind of exciting, I'd imagine."

"I haven't gotten to that part yet."
 
Annabeth continued the conversation with this pleasant man, surprised that she could do so.
 
It had been years since she had anything but the most casual of conversations with people other than those closest to her.

In a short span of time, the waitress returned, setting the food down in front of them.
 
Two plates of well-done burgers with pale golden fries and two bottles of beer.

Charles picked up his beer and took a long swig, then said, "You know Sara always wants me to be more sophisticated.
 
Drink wine.
 
I never got the hang of it.
 
Usually we drink iced tea."

Annabeth glanced down at her food and lifted her own bottle of beer.
 
"I drink water usually.
 
But this is fine."

They took their time eating, sharing bits of conversation, mostly of the insignificant variety, and eventually people started filtering into the bar.
 
They politely kept their voices down when commenting on the quality of the singers, most of whom were only slightly worse than the echoes coming out of a neighbor's shower.

"Why don't you sing a tune?" asked Charles.

Annabeth blushed.
 
"Oh no.
 
You go ahead."

He laughed.
 
"I don't think so."

Doug Hawkins walked into the bar then, and approached their table.
 
Charles rose and shook Doug's hand and Annabeth smiled.

"How's the Taurus?" asked Doug, clearly puzzled over why Annabeth was dining with the druggist.

"Sara never lets me drive it," laughed Charles.
 
"Why don't you join us?"
 
Doug sat down at the table, but before he could reply, the cellular phone in Charles' pocket rang, and he flipped it open and began speaking.
 
"Oh, hello dear.
 
Oh!
 
Really?
 
Are you absolutely certain?"

While this conversation continued Doug spoke to Annabeth.
 
"I tried to call you twice today, but there was no answer."