From the Grounds Up (10 page)

Tien knew that Caron and I had been searching for a successor location for Uncommon Grounds. What she didn't know was that Caron was likely opting out, resulting in Sarah and me partnering. I quickly filled her in on both that and the depot.

'Wow,' she said. 'That sounds wonderful. But when did all this happen? Didn't I talk to you just a couple of days ago?'

She had. The last time I ordered Vietnamese. Have I mentioned I like Vietnamese? And Thai? And delivery of both?

'It happened just . . .' I had to stop and think. 'Yesterday?' It was hard to imagine. So much water had gone under the bridge in the hours since Sarah and I drove to the station that first time.

'Hang on.' I heard Tien speaking to somebody, then she returned to the phone. 'And did you want rice with that?'

I got the point. 'Sorry to hold you up like this, but I would like to talk to you and your father about working with us--maybe doing catering or takeout. We have a full kitchen.'

An intake of breath. 'That sounds great!' She caught herself. 'I think you'll love both the pho
and
the spring rolls. And you said the chicken with lemon grass and also the grilled beef and sesame on rice vermicelli?'

Tien knew I loved the chicken. The beef dish was a new one for me, but it sounded good. 'Perfect. And can you have it delivered to Sarah's house?'

'Of course. That's in Brookhills Estates, right?'

I gave her the exact address. 'Thanks, Tien. You and your dad call whenever you can, assuming you're interested.'

'Definitely. And you have a good night as well.'

I hung up the phone. 'All set.'

'Set?' Sarah was sitting at the kitchen table, looking not quite as out of place as a bull in a china shop. More like a bull in a flower garden, surrounded by floral wallpaper and delicate furniture. Everything was immaculate.

It was hard to imagine two teenagers living there. Either Sarah had a top-notch cleaning lady or she really had the kids whipped into shape. Which reminded me. 'You said Courtney and Sam were out for the night? Did you mean all night or should I have ordered extra?'

'Ordered extra? You didn't order anything.' Sarah was looking grumpy. And hungry.

'Of course I did.'

'Maggy, I may be getting old but I'm not deaf. You were on that phone for a full five minutes and not one menu item passed your lips.'

Tien had come up with the menu on her side of the conversation, so as not to get in trouble. Sarah wouldn't have heard any of it.

Now she got up and went to a wine rack on the counter and pulled out a bottle. 'Hell, if we're not going to eat, we at least can drink.'

Sounded good to me. 'Since when did you switch to wine with a meal?'

Sarah was holding the bottle by the neck like she wanted to slug me with it. 'For the third time,
what
meal?'

'Tien Romano was there and she knows what I like. Chicken with lemon grass, grilled beef, spring rolls and . . .' I was counting them off on my fingers and I wiggled my pinky. I knew there was one more. 'Oh, and pho--that's the beef rice noodle soup.'

'Not the one with beef balls in it, I hope.' Sarah seemed somewhat appeased but still borderline grouchy. 'I don't do testicles.'

There were
so
many ways to reply to that.

With the wine bottle still in Sarah's hand, though, I wasn't taking any chances. 'They're not that kind of "balls". They're made from ground beef.' I hesitated before adding, 'You can also get shrimp balls.'

'Must be microscopic.' But Sarah finally cracked a grin.

I sat down at the kitchen table as she opened the wine. 'Courtney and Sam?' I prompted.

'Don't remind me.' Sarah pulled wine glasses from the cupboard and brought them to the table along with the bottle. 'They're shopping.'

'Shopping.' I gave it a beat. 'I hope you didn't give them your credit card.'

'Do I look like an idiot?' She poured a glass and took a slug. 'Besides, they have their own.'

'Even worse.' Since Sarah looked like she had no intention of pouring a glass for me, I helped myself. 'What are they shopping for?'

'Clothes to wear on the Cape. They say a Wisconsin wardrobe won't be "suitable" for a Massachusetts summer.' Her fingers drummed the table, the way they had the steering wheel of her car. 'Then they're spending the night at a friend's house.'

'We do have summer, even in Wisconsin,' I pointed out. 'And swimsuits and shorts probably aren't a whole lot different here than they are there.'

Sarah didn't answer and I reached across the table and patted her hand. 'So it looks like they're going?'

'I told you that this morning,' she said, pulling back. 'Weren't you listening?'

'Yes, I was listening. But it sounded as if you hadn't made up your mind yet.'

'About what?' Sarah was acting intentionally obtuse.

'About the kids spending the summer in Cape Cod, of course.'

She shrugged. 'It's their family. If Sam and Courtney want to go, I can't very well stop them.'

She took a sip of wine, then set the glass on the table and stared at it. 'I don't know why, Maggy, but I have a bad feeling about this, like something awful is going to happen. I'm afraid that if Sam and Courtney go to Cape Cod, I'll never see them again.'

When she raised her head, Sarah's eyes were filled with tears. 'Ever.'

Chapter Eleven

Sarah and I consumed a lot of wine that night and, when the delivery guy arrived, a lot of Vietnamese food, too. When we emptied the bottle of pinot noir, I suddenly realized Sarah needed to drive me back to the station to get my car.

And, I also suddenly realized, she was in no condition to do it.

Nor, in turn, should I be driving my car home from there.

'Stay over,' Sarah said, waving her wine glass at me. 'They're predicting thunderstorms, anyway.'

We had moved from the kitchen to the living room's sectional couch, the ends of which reclined like lounge chairs. Sarah was ensconced in one corner, me in the other. We faced the 42-inch flat screen.
The Big Chill
was playing. Life couldn't get much better.

'You can borrow whatever you need,' Sarah continued, 'and I'll take you to your car in the morning.'

'What time is it anyway?' I tried to sit up but the recline action kept defeating me. 'Oh, my God, it's getting late. What about Frank?'

'There's a handle on the right side.' Sarah pointed. 'And it's only ten o'clock. How about Pavlik? He's Frank's buddy. Maybe he'll go let him out.'

'Or he could give me a lift home,' I said, trying to work the lever. 'Then I could walk to the depot tomorrow and pick up the Escape. It's less than a mile from my house.'

'Do you really want to admit you're too drunk to drive?' Sarah looked crestfallen. We hadn't talked further about Sam and Courtney, but I knew it was still bothering her.

'You're the one who said I should call Pavlik.' I eased myself out of the comfy chair and stood up. Outside the window, there was a flash of lightning.

'So I was wrong. Better to call a neighbor. What about that guy who just moved in?'

'Anthony.' I didn't relish telling my new neighbor why I wasn't coming home, either. Especially if he would have to go out into the storm to feed my dog. 'Maybe I'll just say I got hung up out of town.'

'Sure.' Sarah handed me the phone. 'Lie.'

As I took the phone, the thunder finally sounded. The storm was still far enough away that Anthony might be able to get to my house and back before it hit. 'Do you have the makings for fudge?' I asked.

'No, but Courtney made brownies today.'

'Sold.' I made the call.

Given the circumstances, it's not surprising that I was wearing the same clothes I'd had on the day before, when Sarah and I met Ronny at the depot.

Ronny, though, was always a surprise.

Instead of the greaser look, today he was sporting bright green polyester pants paired with a print shirt and long collar points.

I tried to imagine the man's closet, separated by fashion trends like a middle-schooler's notebook with subject tabs. 'Decade-of-the-day' instead of the day-of-the-week panties I'd worn as a little girl. If it's Wednesday, it must be the seventies.

Ronny pushed a pair of over-sized yellow plastic glasses up on his apparently once-broken nose. I wondered if his fashion sense had been the cause of that, too. The nose, not the glasses. If he'd dressed like this in high school, a bigger kid likely had beaten the crap out of him.

'Out of sight.' He looked me up and down. 'Bad trip last night? This looks like the walk of shame.'

I laughed. Sarah's cousin was obviously a student of pop culture and not just because he knew the expression 'walk of shame', which Eric had explained as heading home in the daylight after a night out drinking. But, 'Out of sight?' 'Bad trip?' Ronny chose his slang to match his outfits.

'Not really," I said. "I stayed over at Sarah's house last night because we had too much wine. We stopped by my place this morning to let the dog out, but since we were running late, I didn't take the time to change.'

Besides, the whole time I was inside Sarah sat in the Firebird revving the motor and honking.

I sniffed my underarm. 'I don't smell, do I?'

'No, but let's think about this.' Ronny ticked the points off on his fingers: 'You partied down, didn't make it home last night, and you're wearing the same threads you wore yesterday. That sounds to me like you are walking the walk.'

Well, sure, if you wanted to be literal.

Sarah's cellphone rang.

Ronny cocked his head to listen to the ringtone. '"Our House" by Crosby, Stills and Nash?'

'And Young,' I said as Sarah stepped away to answer the call. 'She tries to find real estate appropriate ringtones.'

'I'm not so sure it'll sell more places,' Ronny said.

'Probably not. But believe me, this is a big improvement over "Home on the Range".'

'How about "I Want To Go Home" by Michael Buble?'

'Nice. Suggest it to her.' I pointed at the clipboard in his hand. 'Do you have some ideas on the layout of Uncommon Grounds, Junior?'

'I do.' He looked at Sarah, who was still on the phone. 'Should we wait for her?'

In truth? I wanted to see them now. But it was only right to accommodate her.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘She probably won’t be lo—‘

As I said it, Sarah closed her phone. 'I have to go.'

'But Ronny has a suggested layout.' I pointed at her cousin, spreading papers over one of the round tables. 'Can you take a quick peek?'

'Sorry.' She was already dragging car keys from her pocket. 'Sam and Courtney are at the house.'

I knew Sarah was worried about the situation with them, but the kids certainly were old enough to stay home alone for a while. 'They'll still be there when you get home, right?' I asked gently.

'Not necessarily. Sam said FedEx just delivered an envelope sent overnight from their aunt and uncle on Cape Cod. Two airline tickets to Boston.'

Sarah was heading for the door. 'Sam and Courtney are thrilled. And packing.'

'Packing? When does their flight leave?'

'This afternoon.' Sarah opened the door and stepped out. 'Sam says the tickets are a gift. For "all the birthdays missed".'

Sarah held up her hands in mock amazement. 'Surprise!'

Then she was gone.

I turned to Ronny, still bent over the table. 'Think I should go after her?'

He shook his head. 'This is something they need to settle themselves. What
you
have to do is make some decisions here, so the partnership can move ahead.'

'Just me?' I looked at the pages of drawings on the table. An office, a storeroom, the front facade. The floor-plan of the tables and chairs. So much to think about. 'What if I decide wrong?'

'All anyone can do is the best they can.' Ronny straightened and pushed up his glasses again. 'Then you step back and let things fall where they may.'

Wise words, even coming from a man wearing hot green polyester pants and yellow spectacles.

I said, 'I second-guess myself constantly. You have more guts than I do.'

'No, I don't.' Ronny hitched up his pants, which were already unnaturally high. 'You do what you have to do. I'm a coward in a lot of ways.'

I laughed. I couldn't help it. 'No coward would wear those pants.'

'What?' He did a turn. 'You didn't get down with the seventies?'

'I was eleven in seventy-seven, when
Saturday Night Fever
came out. A little young to hit the discos,' I said. 'And you were probably even younger.'

'True.' Ronny had a wicked grin on his face and he seemed to be loosening up. 'But you know what they say. If you wore the fashion the first time around, you are too old to wear it when it circles back.'

'Thank God.' I said. 'That means I won't have to revisit leg warmers, stirrup pants and miniskirts.'

'Ah, but miniskirts are always boss.' He gave me the once-over.

A girl likes to be appreciated. Even by a guy who tomorrow would likely be wearing dayglo parachute pants.

'OK, OK,' I said. 'What do we have here?'

Ronny pulled the drawing from the center of the table toward us. It showed a bird's-eye view of the entire building, the driveway to our new back parking lot on the right, train tracks to the left.

Inside the square that represented the depot building itself, he'd used the original ticket windows as the service windows and plugged in (figuratively) our equipment, most of which we'd have to buy. Not much was salvageable from the original Uncommon Grounds.

'There are three ticket windows,' Ronny said, pointing. 'I'd suggest that you open up at least two of them, to form one big window.'

'I really like the train station feel of the three,' I protested.

'And we can keep it like that, if you want,' Ronny said, dropping the seventies jive. 'But I assume there will be days that you won't have three people working to staff all of the windows. And besides,' he gestured behind us, 'look at how narrow the openings are. You can't very well slide a latte through the ticket trough.'

He was right, of course. Both the ornate lattice-work that separated the ticket agent from the passenger and the shallow tin ditch under it were fine for slipping cash in exchange for tickets, but they wouldn't work for coffee.