Riding the Thunder (28 page)

“Really? Didn't know the Brit had a cat.” Taking a sip of his coffee, Melvin watched her.

“A recent addition,” she commented with a smile.

He stabbed the yolk on his egg and then sopped it up with his toast. “Gossip says that man's been adding a lot the past few days, buying Derek's Shelby and then Dale's Harley. Who'd he buy the cat from?”

She chuckled. “In this instance, I think the cat acquired him.”

“What's with the sign?” he asked next.

“You're full of questions this morning, Melvin.” Asha taped the corners of the plastic HELP WANTED sign to the front window. “I'm hiring a couple part-time waitresses so that you and the others will stop grousing at me about not getting service fast enough.”

“Where's Netta? She always keeps my cup topped off.” Melvin held up his half-filled mug, letting her know it was in need of attention.

“Netta is at Juanita's getting her hair done. Besides, she can't do everything around here. The lass needs some helping hands. I let Rhonda go—though I am sure she'll put it about that
she
walked out on me.” Asha poured coffee for Melvin. She looked out the big windows, spotting Netta's beat-up Hyundai pull into the lot and park at the side where employees did.

“That ain't Juanita anymore,” Melvin informed her. “She died about twenty-five years ago. The owner is Daisy Mason now; she just never changed the name of the beauty parlor since Juanita's is sort of a local landmark in Leesburg. She bought it from Juanita's granddaughter after her granny died. She tried for a few weeks to call it Daisy's Wash and Curl, but everyone grumbled; she changed it back to keep them happy.”

Asha paused and considered Melvin. “You were around here back in the '60s? Did you know Tommy Grant or Laura Valmont?”

“Yeah, I did.” He took a sip of his coffee, hesitating. “Tommy was already at UK when I went to Leesburg High. Laura was in my American History class, though I didn't know her well. She was a grade ahead of me and only moved to Leesburg a year or so before, if I recall right. My cousin, Junior, took her to the prom.”

Asha thought back on the prom night she'd witnessed through Laura's eyes, recalling how Laura had hunted for Junior to take her home after she fought with Tommy. It was so strange, to already know the pieces of the past of which
Melvin spoke, see them so vividly in her mind. Laura Valmont's memories were now hers.

“She didn't socialize much, just followed Tommy around all the time.” Melvin's eyes shifted uneasily to the jukebox. “They used to come here a lot, played that thing all the time and slow-danced in the aisles, like all the kids did back then. The Windmill and the old skate rink were about the only places for young people to hang out.”

Asha watched the Wurlitzer, which sedately played the beautiful “Greenfields” by The Brothers Four, almost expecting it to switch in mid-song to Ray Peterson crooning about Tommy and Laura. She muttered under her breath, “Yeah, damn machine is being good
now
—Colin is running around with a screwdriver.”

She shivered when the song hit the lyrics, “
We were the lovers, who strolled those greenfields
.” Turning her attention back to Melvin, she asked. “What happened to them?”

The man made a sour face, clearly uneasy with the subject. He shrugged. “Died.”

Asha felt as if she'd taken a hard blow to her heart, all the sadness she'd experienced at the skating rink returning tenfold. For some reason, Laura's ghost was touching her life, showing her the past. It made her grasp the back of the booth to steady herself. “Died? How?”

“That's right—you didn't grow up around here, did you? Maybe you'd better ask those who know more about them. There's one or two around,” he said cryptically.

“Melvin, I'll have Sam double the
filè
powder in your gumbo Thursday night,” she threatened.

“People around here respect the dead, give them their rights. You don't speak of those who died violently. It calls them back, holds them here when they need to move on.” Clearly uncomfortable, he checked his watch. “I need to get to work. I'll let you know about my brother-in-law, if he'd be interested in that job replacing the ceiling tiles. Can I get my ticket?”

Asha nodded and went to the front to check him out.
Melvin's reaction bothered her, but she didn't push. He picked up his usual peppermint from the bowl by the register and unwrapped the cellophane. Popping it into his mouth, he then scooped up his change and stuck the coins in his pants pocket. His gray eyes showed regret. He hesitated before going to the door.

“Look, it ain't a memory I use for gossip,” he offered as a reason for his behavior.

She nodded, understanding more than he'd ever know. “I wasn't gossiping. I'm truly interested in what happened to them.”

Melvin shot another fleeting glare at the Wurlitzer. “Yeah, guess you have cause. They were two nice people, very much in love, and died tragically. A car crash out on the old river road, along that dangerous stretch back before they put in the bypass and the new bridge. Tommy evidently crossed the centerline, trying to pass a cement truck, and too late saw a semi bearing down. He swerved, judging from the tracks on the road, but the Peterbilt smashed into the Mustang's side, killing Laura instantly. I didn't see it happen, just came up minutes later. Tommy was alive for a few moments when we reached him. The steering wheel shoved half into his chest, he was holding her hand and trying to call her name. It wasn't pretty, Asha.” Tears filled his eyes. “To this day I'll never forget those poor people. They should've had a good life, had grandkids by now. I didn't know them all that well, but coming upon that wreck left deep scars in me. Taught me the value of each day, you know. Sometimes life just ain't fair.”

Netta waltzed in through the front door as Melvin departed. He barely muttered a hello to her before rushing out. She lifted her brows, shrugged and came around the counter with her shopping bags.

“Melvin seemed upset. Anything happen? La Jukebox from Hell carrying on again?”

“Just some unhappy memories.” Asha finished drawing a Pepsi for herself, then really took a look at Netta.

Shock was too mild of a word. Her friend had on chicly tailored black slacks, a charcoal blazer with small gold buttons and a deep blue shell blouse that made her vivid eyes seem all the more arresting. Her hair color had been toned down to a lovely shade of golden blond and the wild curls and waves were gone. In their stead was a sleek coif that ended in a small French braid, elegant and reminiscent of the beautiful actress Kim Novak. “My, aren't you stunning!”

Netta did a 360-degree spin to show off. “My first day as your new hostess. Will I do?”

“You'd do to meet the Queen, though it's a bit wasted on the bunch around here. They love you as you were. But you're beautiful either way.”

Winnie MacPhee raced into the restaurant, beelined to the empty booth and leaned in on her knee. With a determined look to her eyes, she snatched down the HELP WANTED sign from the window and rushed to the counter. With a nervous grin, she pushed it toward Asha.

“Why did you go and take my sign down? I just put that up.” Asha had a feeling where this was going, and she wasn't sure it was a good idea.

“It says two part-time waitresses. How about one full-time instead?” Winnie stood there grinning.

“Actually, the idea was to have two waitresses to cover the supper. Netta is my new hostess. That leaves Cathy as my only waitress through the week. I have Denise on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“Yeah, but if you had one that came in and worked the lunch and dinner shift both, especially one with a lot of energy, maybe you don't need two. Anyway, I want to be one. I can start whenever you like.” She waited, looking optimistic.

Asha glanced to Netta, who merely gave her a blank stare. She was clearly making no comment, though Asha had a sense Netta echoed her own trepidation.

“Up front—I have concerns because of Derek,” Asha admitted. “I'm not sure it's a smart move to hire a waitress who is fighting with my busboy.”

Winnie clapped her hands together. “I won't be a problem. Promise. I'll be busy waiting on customers; he'll be in the back, or clearing tables. We won't have to bump elbows too often. Look, you pay better than the café in Leesburg or the Dairy Wiz. I don't want to eat up my salary in gas driving all the way to Lexington and back each day—the traffic out of that town is a major headache during rush hour. Ah, come on, Asha. The Dish Barn is cutting back on my hours. I can't live on twenty-five hours a week. Choices are limited. Give me a chance. Please?”

Asha sighed, knowing she was a soft touch. “Two weeks. If I catch Derek and you fussing, I'll toss you out on your ear. No too-short skirts, too-low tops or perfume—customers might be allergic. I provide the smock aprons; you get five. If you want to work full-time, you can work 11:30 am to 7:30, Tuesday through Saturday, twelve dollars per hour plus tips.”

“Oh, thank you! Also, may I have one of the employee cottages? I'd really like to move out of my parents' home.”

Asha chuckled, knowing if she let the girl have one of the cottages there went the ‘two-week trial'. Still, she understood how hard it was for the kids trying to stay in the area. Choices on where to live and jobs were not good; most were forced to go elsewhere to find both. She'd always liked Winnie, and poor lass, her mother had a tongue like an adder. It must be hard living with such an overbearing woman. When Asha came back to take over running The Windmill, she'd turned it into a sanctuary for people seeking the slower path in life.

Asha trusted her fey voice, as she had with Netta and Sam. “Okay, you can have a cottage.”

Winnie hopped up and down and nearly jumped over the counter, leaning close to hug Asha. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! When do I start?”

A low throttled rumble sounded, as the Shelby swung into the lot, Jago behind the wheel. Asha watched Jago stop directly in front of the door in the
No Parking
spot, and he and Derek got out. They'd gone to the courthouse to get the car title transferred, why Jago beamed like a proud daddy about to pass out cigars.

“You can start today if you like. My new hostess,” she motioned to Netta, “can walk you through things and get you settled. The smocks are in the locker. Netta will show you where. Once you get your own personal locker set up, come back and fill out the application, the W-2 form, and I'll give you a key to a cabin.”

“Come on, sweet thing, I'll get you squared away.” Netta smiled and pushed open the kitchen door.

At the same time as Netta took Winnie into the kitchen, Jago and Derek pushed through the front door. Asha chuckled as both men looked back to the black car, their expressions easy to read. Jago grinned, possession clear in his eyes. Poor Derek had the wistful, sad look of one saying good-bye to his beloved.

Jago turned to see Asha watching him and gave her a drop-dead, sexy smile. “It's mine. All mine. Well, it's property of Trident Ventures until I get the money transferred here.”

“Yeah, I guessed that's what put the grin on your face.” She chuckled. “Of course, your Harley might get jealous.”

Coming around the counter he opened his arms wide. He looked damn delicious in his black jeans, leather jacket and blue T-shirt, an irresistible bad boy that had stolen her heart.

“Hey, there's enough of me for both.” He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Enough for you, too . . . if you say pretty please with a cherry on top.”

Putting a hand on his chest, she resisted the urge of fisting her fingers in the cotton and yanking him to her for a kiss that would knock his socks off. Instead, she pushed him back a step. “Cool it, Sexy Lips. I'm gearing up for the lunch rush around here.”

“In that case, fix me a glass of iced tea, and if I may, I'll borrow the phone in the office to make some calls.”

She winked. “Only if you say pretty please with a cherry on top.”

He shoved against her hand, invading her space in challenge. “I have interesting ideas about maraschino cherries and whipped cream.”

“I have a passion for maraschino cherries,” Asha confessed. Swallowing hard, she tried to think of something utterly witty and so sexy it'd make
him
swallow hard. Only, visions of Reddi-wip and sexy, sinful cherries filled her mind. Heat flooded her body as she blushed.

To hide her reaction, she turned away to fix his iced tea. Jago just laughed, knowing how he'd pushed her buttons. Fine, let him. She'd get even later.

Derek grumped, “If you two are finished playing lovebirds, can I have a beer? And don't gripe that it's too early in the day, Asha. I just sold my Shelby. I need something a lot stronger but will settle for a Coors.”

Chatting happily, Netta and Winnie came from the kitchen. The girl's jovial expression died when her eyes locked with Derek's. Flashing a fearful look at Asha, she quickly followed Netta into the office. Setting the Coors on a paper coaster, Asha excused herself and followed them.

Going to the file cabinet, she took out the papers needed to employ Winnie and a set of keys to cabin #11. “Sorry, it's been locked up for a year. You'll need to air it and vacuum the inch-thick dust. You can take the papers onto the porch to fill in everything. This one is for your doctor to fill out. I'll reimburse you for the physical, but I need your physician to certify you're healthy enough to work. Other than that, I'm an easy employer. I run The Windmill like a family. That means Derek and you get along on the clock. On your own time, whatever you do is your business, but here you're happy campers. Any questions?”

Still smiling, Winnie shook her head no and held out her hand for the keys. Asha hesitated for a heartbeat, hoping
her instincts were right. She loved the harmony of The Windmill, and didn't want anything to disturb that. Looking into Winnie's warm brown eyes, she had to go with her inner voice that said this girl would fit in. Oh, she didn't expect it to be all sunshine and roses. Derek's feelings would have to be soothed. Even so, she dropped the keys into Winnie's palm, comfortable with her decision.