A Path Less Traveled (26 page)

Andy’s radar went
up. “Um, who is this person?”

“Steve’s sister,
Trish James.”

Otis’ words
pushed him back against the seat. How was he going to explain this? “Sorry Mr.
Thacker, but I can’t represent you.”

Otis’ face
screwed up. “Why’s that? I have you on retainer.”

“It’s called
conflict of interest. I’ve hired Trish to help me with my new office, and I coach
her son’s t-ball team.”

“Doesn’t sound
like a conflict to me.”

He squirmed in
his seat, suddenly feeling like a catfish on a hook. Out of the water. Flopping
around on the creek bank. “Uh, this is confidential, but we’ve . . . er . . .
also considered a relationship.” Well, he’d considered it anyway.

The older man’s
uni-brow rose and fell before curving into a scowl. “You don’t waste any time,
do you, young man? What’s wrong? Not enough pretty women in the city for you,
so you move here to hit on our young widows?” He rose to his feet and made his
way to the door, slamming it behind him.

Andy’s blood
pressure climbed to the stratosphere. So much for making a good impression on
Thacker. This would most likely be the latest fodder for the grapevine, and there
was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

* *
* * *

Trish signed out
at Soldano’s, shucked the apron covered with smiling maraca-shaking chili
peppers, and hurried to the car she’d not-so-affectionately nicknamed The
Lemon. Her shift had run late again today, leaving her fifteen minutes to set
up for afternoon art lessons. Her two students barely made teaching worth the
effort, though she enjoyed it more than she’d ever imagined possible.

She crawled into
the car, heat blasting her in the face. Summer obviously wasn’t the best time
to open a private art studio. Several people had expressed an interest, but
wanted to wait until fall to begin. To make matters worse, the money she’d made
off lessons had been eaten up by childcare expenses.

With a toss of
her head, she made her way to the Community Center. Oh well, things worked out
the way they did for a reason. It must be part of God’s plan, even though God’s
plans sometimes made no sense to her.

The cell phone
buzzed and she grabbed it from the console. Steve. She punched the talk button.
“What’s up?”

“Hey, I have
something I think you should know.” The warning in his tone sent shivers down
her spine.

“What?”

“I ate lunch with
the geezers at Granny’s. Otis was shooting off his mouth about filing suit against
you for being delinquent on your payments and breaking your lease.”

Her mind went
numb. Then hot anger flared, coupled with embarrassment. “You’ve got to be
kidding!” Now that Steve knew this detail of her financial situation, it
wouldn’t be long until Dad found out.

“There’s more.”
Her brother paused, an ominous silence filling the void. “He said he’d hired
Andy Tyler for the job.”

Her stomach grew
queasy, and her mouth dropped open. Andy? Not noticing the red light until it
was too late, she plowed right through the intersection.

Chapter 23

T
rish balanced the
tray of drinks and soft-stepped toward table five, praying she wouldn’t trip.
The lunch shift had been busy, and her tip apron now held a nice bulge.

She passed out
drinks to the people at table five and jotted down their food order. As she
reached the kitchen door, a loud throat-clearing sounded from the booth to her
left. Trish yanked her head in the direction of the noise. How long had she
been sitting there?

Carla parked at
the table, a scowl embedded on her face. “I’ve been here almost ten minutes,
and no one has taken my order.”

“Sorry, I didn’t
see you. What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have iced
tea with two lemons and the blue plate special, cut the salad and add a
guacamole.” She barked out her order then tossed the menu. “Bring the blue
sweetener. I don’t like the pink stuff.”

Trish quickly
scribbled down the order and managed a polite “thank you.”

She returned a
few minutes later with Carla’s tea, basket of chips, and ramekin of salsa,
trying to disregard the delicious smells swirling around her and setting off a
rumble in her belly.

Dani, Steve, Mama
Beth, and Dad rounded the corner and seated themselves at a nearby table, their
faces registering shock. Trish sucked in a deep breath. Had they forgiven her
birthday party outburst? She squelched the animosity she still felt over the
relationship between Dad and Mama Beth. Nothing good could come from stewing
over it. She was an adult, and it was high time she acted like one.

Trish sidled over
to her family. “Hi, y’all.” After their returned greetings, an awkward silence
ensued. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Why?” Her
father’s voice was gruff.

“Why what?” Trish
steeled herself.

“You know what.”
His expression held reproach. “We would’ve helped. All you had to do was ask.”

“I’m a grown-up
now, Dad. I can take care of myself.”

He started to
speak again, but Mama Beth laid a hand on his arm. He met her gaze, then
clamped his lips in a taut line.

Mama Beth made
direct eye contact, her light blue eyes sincere. “Trish, I know you’re busy,
but could we set up some time to talk—just the two of us?”

Trish shifted
uncomfortably. “Sure.” Though she hated confrontation, it
would
be
better to clear the air instead of letting frustrations build. “I’ll stop by
later this afternoon.”

A soft smile of
appreciation curved Mama Beth’s lips. “Thank you, sweetie. I’d like a glass of
unsweetened tea, please.”

Trish took their
food orders, then made her way to the drink station, her thoughts on Dad’s
reaction. Why was he so upset? Surely he favored her taking a job in town as
opposed to moving to Austin. Or did he? Trish filled glasses with ice and gave
her head an angry shake.
Snap out of it, Trish. Prove that you’ve got what
it takes.

Surprisingly, she
was able to do just that, and responded calmly to Carla a few minutes later
when the food wasn’t to her liking. And when her family left the restaurant,
she sent them off with a smile. As the clock inched toward two, she breathed
easier. Even after a couple of big challenges, her day had gone pretty
smoothly.

But when she
neared table two, her breath caught in her throat. Andy lounged at the table
studying a menu. Was it true that he was going to file suit against her, or was
that information just another nugget of geezer gossip? She steadied her nerves
and approached his table. “Let me guess, chicken fajitas?”

He looked up, his
mouth agape at first, then it widened to an infectious grin. “Good to see you,
Trish. For your information, I thought I’d step outside my box today and try
the chicken fajita nachos.”

She laughed and
wrote down his order. “Bold move.” His friendly response was just the balm her
spirit needed. No lectures, no accusations, just the same old Andy. “And to
drink?”

“What do you
recommend?”

“We make a mean
glass of sweet tea.”

“So I’ve heard.
Sounds good.”

As she moved to
pick up the menu, Andy placed his hand on hers, his sea-green eyes no longer
teasing. “Nice to see you smile again, Trish.”

“It feels good
from my perspective, too.”

“I’m sure it
does. You mind my asking what brought it on?” His eyes held . . . what was it?
Hope?

“Well, this job
for one, and I have a couple of art lessons this afternoon.”

His face
brightened. “Good for you.”

“It was your
idea.” She pulled the menu and her hand from beneath his grasp. “I’ll be right
back with your tea.”

After she
delivered Andy’s tea and helped bus a few tables, she returned to the kitchen
to wait for his order. Her cell phone buzzed in her apron, and she checked the
digital readout. Not a number she recognized. “Hello?”

“Is this Trish
James?”

Please not
another bill collector. Didn’t they know she was doing her best? “Yes. May I
ask who’s calling?”

“My name is
Claire Windsor.” The elegant voice dripped money and culture. “I own an art
studio in Dallas and host an art show on the third weekend of every month to
highlight Texas artists and their work. Would you be interested in a show in
September?”

The room seemed
suddenly devoid of air. “You’ve seen my work?”

“Yes. You have
talent, Mrs. James. Based on the painting I saw, I think your work will not
only sell, but sell well.”

Her pulse
careened through her veins, and she brought a hand to her face. “Th-thanks. I’d
love the opportunity.”

The woman gave
her a website address to check out for the details and promised to stay in
touch.

Trish managed a
mumbled word of thanks, then clicked the phone shut, her mind reeling. There
was so much work to do between now and September. And why had she forgotten to
ask where the woman had seen one of her paintings?

“Order up for
table two.” Rafael, the middle Soldano son, let his bass voice ring out, then
flashed a winning smile the Soldano men were famous for. “You have stars in
your eyes, señora.”

She told him her
good news as she loaded Andy’s order on a tray.

When she reached
the stainless steel swinging doors, Rafael’s hearty congratulations sounded.
She swiveled to smile at him, and backed her way out of the kitchen. As she
cleared the doors, Trish turned and collided with a broad chest. The lunch
platter slid down the man’s suit and landed with a clank on the floor.

Trish backed
away, eyeing globs of sour cream, guacamole, and pico de gallo on the man’s
shirt and tie. Her foot landed in a pile of something slippery. She tried to
keep her balance, but the room shifted as she hurtled toward the floor.

Two strong arms
reached out to save her, then pulled her toward a food-splattered chest. The
moment passed, and she looked up into familiar green eyes and a dimpled grin.
“I know you’re eager to paint, but did you have to start with my suit and what
I presume was my lunch?”

* *
* * *

God, help me
not to say anything I shouldn’t, and help me listen more than I talk. Please
give me answers.

Trish stepped
from her car into Mama Beth’s gravel driveway and made her way to the picket
fence gate. The fragrance of roses wafted from the white rose arbor that framed
the cobblestone path.

She repositioned
a stray strand of hair, her pulse throbbing in her throat. While she’d never
felt fear when it came to Mama Beth, she had a feeling this conversation
wouldn’t be easy. She’d always loved the woman and looked up to her, but the
relationship between her and Dad made this uncertain ground.

Trish wearily
climbed the wooden steps to the wraparound porch and tapped lightly on the
screen door.

“Come on in.”
Mama Beth squeaked open the door, then reached up and hugged her neck.

“I can’t stay
long.”

The older woman
pulled away and blinked, her blue eyes taking on hurt. “Sorry if I’m keeping
you from your time with Bo, but I wanted to explain a few things. I couldn’t
stand this distance between us.”

Trish nodded,
then lowered her head to stare at her hands. “I apologize for losing my temper
at the birthday party. It had been a rough day.”

“You’ve had a lot
of rough days here lately. That’s another thing I wanted to talk about.”

She raised her
head, her eyebrows on the climb. Was she about to endure another lecture on how
to cope with losing a spouse? And from someone who’d never even been married?

“Have a seat.”
Mama Beth motioned to the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”
Trish moved to the overstuffed couch and sank into it, longing for the world to
go away so she could relax and sleep.

The older woman
shuffled to the other end and plopped down, her eyebrows crinkled. “I’m not
sure how to even begin this story, but I know you’re in a hurry so I’ll just
start. You probably know your dad and I graduated together and dated all
through high school.”

She nodded. Mom
had never let any of them forget it, constantly harping about Mama Beth, her
jealousy deep and unforgiving.

“He went off to
college while I stayed in Miller’s Creek to work. We weren’t engaged, but there
was a promise between us.” Mama Beth’s voice hitched. She paused as her
shoulders rose and then settled. “When he came back home with a wife and child,
I thought I’d die from the pain. But I didn’t. I got up, put one foot in front
of the other like you’re doing now, and made a life. But I never stopped loving
him.”

Trish’s heart
beat faster, but she didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

“But contrary to
what you said the other day, I haven’t been waiting for your mother to die. I
gave up hope that I’d ever have a relationship with Bo when he came back to
Miller’s Creek with a family.”

A frown wiggled
on to Trish’s face. “Why didn’t you ever marry?”

“I never found
anyone else I loved.” Her voice decreased to a hurt whisper. “So even though I
never lost a husband, I do know a thing or two about loss. I can’t promise your
heartbreak will go away, but it does get easier to bear.”

Trish swallowed a
wad of grief. At least with Doc, she didn’t have to suffer through knowing he
belonged to someone else. “I-I’m sorry. I never knew all the facts. I didn’t
mean to be so cruel the other day, but it hasn’t even been a year since . . .”

Mama Beth scooted
closer and wrapped her in a hug. “I know, sweetie. Just remember that for your
dad, the woman he loved and married died a long time ago.”

True. Alzheimer’s
made it that way for all of them. They missed her, but were glad she didn’t
have to suffer anymore. “I want Dad to be happy. I really do. And I want that
for you, too.” Trish pulled away and used the heels of her hands to swipe at
the tears spilling onto her cheeks. She released a frustrated groan. “Sorry I’m
crying. I’m so sick of tears.”