The Mine (11 page)

"She's running a bit late. She and Paul went to an ROTC function on campus after the commencement ceremony. He graduated too, you know."

"How could I not? He rubbed his grades in my face all week. I haven't seen him since Thursday, though."

"Well, maybe you should do some catching up. There they are now."

"I think I will, Virginia," Tom said, returning a warm glance from his girl.

Joel tuned out the exchange. Locked in a staring contest with Freckles, he debated whether to sit down and grab one of her pickles or roam some more and visit with others. Focused exclusively on pleasing the Carters, making money, and settling into his new environment, he had thought precious little about dating. But after five minutes with Linda McEwan, he thought a lot more. She had most definitely rolled out the carpet.

Mr. Available decided to stay. He could not think of a better way to spend the evening than in the company of these three. But just as he started to slide onto the bench opposite Linda, his social butterfly buddy unwittingly took his options off the table.

"Sorry to run, but we have rounds to make," Tom said. He tapped Joel on the arm and pivoted him toward the back of the two-story house, where Brenda and Lauren guided late-arriving guests to food, drink, and tables. "We'll see you girls later."

Joel smiled at Katie, who waved, and Ginny, who raised her glass, before taking one last look at Linda. Riding along on three drinks, she twirled her locks around a finger and blew him a kiss. She was an open book, for sure. But even open books were often good reads. Maybe it was time for Seattle's newest faux cowboy to get back in the saddle.

"Ladies, it's been a pleasure."

CHAPTER 28

When Grace entered Mel Carter's castle on Baltic Avenue, she went directly past Go and straight for the booze. Though she had been a connoisseur of red wine for only fourteen days, she knew it was just the thing for a tired body. Three receptions, one commencement, and a ten-block walk in broken pumps had left her ready for some vino and a good night's sleep.

"Thanks," she said, taking a glass from Paul.

Wearing a green-and-white gingham dress, Grace stood next to her graduate on a flagstone patio that extended fifteen feet from the back of the house. She took a sip and turned outward to face dozens of diners.

"There are a lot of people here. Do you see Ginny?"

"No. But I see the guest of honor."

Paul removed his arm from Grace's back and stepped toward a smiling man in a pressed white shirt and pleated slacks. The man, alone, walked briskly across the freshly mowed lawn.

"There you are," the uniformed officer said, shaking Tom's hand and giving him a bear hug. "Congrats, you dog. Did you ever think we'd make it?"

"You? No. Me? Never a doubt!"

"That's my man," Paul laughed. "Always the joker."

Tom swigged the remainder of his lager and turned the glass over, shaking the last few drops on the dark flat rocks. When he looked up, he saw a pout and put it out.

"Hi-de-ho to you, too, gorgeous," he said, throwing his arms around Grace. "You look better every time I see you. I hope Navy boy is keeping you under lock and key."

"He is," Grace said with a giggle. "Congratulations, Tom. This is quite a party."

"Half these people are customers. You know my dad. He never misses a chance to mix business with pleasure. But you're right. It is pretty impressive." Tom looked at the couple and then at a loaded buffet table a few feet away. "Have you two eaten tonight? If not, dig in. There's plenty of grub and I know we can't eat it all."

"We had some food at our last reception, but I might try some of those desserts," Grace said. "You can never have enough cheesecake."

"Well, have at it then. But before you do, I want you to meet a new friend of mine."

Tom stepped atop a metal folding chair and scanned the premises twice before spotting his buddy. He shouted and motioned to a man filling an empty glass at the keg.

"Hey, Joel! Get over here. You're not finished meeting and greeting."

Joel waved back, blew excess foam off his beer, and proceeded toward the patio, stopping only to say a few words to Mel and Sandy. He straightened his citrus-colored tie as he slowly approached Tom and a fine-looking couple.

Grace's stomach fluttered long before her brain made sense of what she saw. But as the well-dressed man drew closer, a fuzzy picture came into focus.

"Paul and Grace, this is Joel Smith," Tom said. "He's been staying with us and working at the store for almost a couple of weeks now. He's from Helena, Montana."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. I'm Paul McEwan and this is my fiancée Grace Vandenberg."

* * * * *

"The pleasure is mine," Joel said as he shook two hands.

The perfunctory exercise turned into something less routine when Joel zeroed in on the second party. He answered a knowing smile and lingering stare with a knowing smile and lingering stare.

The Instant Recognition Society is called to order.

"Montana, huh?" Paul asked, bringing Joel back to a less appealing place. "So how do you like the big city?"

"I like it a lot," Joel said, thinking that he also liked it when he could attend eight Seahawks games a year, get a latte to go, and catch direct flights to Kona.

"That's great. This is a fine town. I'm sure you'll make your millions in no time."

"I'm sure I will."

"Paul and I were roommates our freshman year in the dorms and our sophomore year in the fraternity," Tom said, jumping back in. "We're both Zeta Alpha Rho."

Joel smiled.

What a coincidence. So am I. Shall we all do the secret handshake?

"Sounds like you two had some good times in school."

"We did," Tom said with an ear-to-ear grin.

Joel glanced at Paul. He expected to see a similar expression but instead saw a serious stare. Paul appeared to be checking out the man who had given his intended a conspicuously familiar greeting. If so, Joel certainly understood. He would have done the same had their roles been reversed. It was obvious that Paul McEwan knew what he had and even more obvious that he did not want to share.

"Don't believe this guy for a minute," Paul said. "Tom thinks
everything
is a good time."

Joel noted the friendly voice. He had apparently passed Paul's threat assessment.

"So I've learned," Joel said.

Paul turned to face Tom.

"And speaking of good times, where were you last night? We missed you."

"Ginny and I went to a movie. I knew my folks were planning a circus tonight so I wanted at least one quiet evening this weekend."

Tom looked at Joel and brought him up to speed.

"Paul went to a stag party last night. One of our fraternity brothers who graduated last year is getting married next week."

"I see."

Tom shifted back to Paul.

"How did it go?"

"You mean you didn't hear about Graham?" Paul asked with a grin.

"No. What happened?"

Paul glanced at Grace, hesitated, and returned to Tom.

"This may be a good time to get a refill," he said. "Do you mind, sweetheart?"

"Not at all. I'll try to entertain Mr. Smith while you're gone."

"Thanks, baby. We won't be long." Paul smirked at his old chum and extended an arm. "After you, sir."

When the two drifted out of voice range, Grace eyed the freshly shaved and nicely attired specimen in front of her. He was an improvement over the first incarnation.

"I've seen you before, by the theater. You're the cowboy."

And you're the Vision of Forty-Seventh Street.

"At your service."

"You're not really a cowboy, are you?"

"No, ma'am," Joel said with a sheepish smile. "But I have learned how to manage herds at the furniture store. We put up a sale sign and the cattle fall into line."

Grace laughed.

"You're funny."

Joel brightened at the sight of her mesmerizing smile. It could launch a thousand ships and a few aircraft as well. He understood why the good ensign had not wasted a second putting a ring on this one.

"I love your accent. Sounds vaguely British. Are you a royal subject?"

"No. I'm as American as you are, but I was raised overseas. The accent is a hand-me-down from my English mother. I'm not really fond of it. It makes me stand out."

"That's exactly why you should keep it. It's almost lyrical."

"Thank you."

Joel sipped his beer and then caught another glimpse of the annoying rock on her finger. It was just his luck she was taken and par for the course in his run through 1941.

"Congratulations on your engagement. When's the big date?"

"Paul and I haven't set one yet. He's headed off to his first assignment next week."

"Have you known each other long?"

"Just a few months. He proposed two weeks ago tonight."

"He's a lucky man, a very lucky man."

* * * * *

Grace glanced past Joel to the bar and saw Paul and Tom share a hearty laugh. At first she had wanted Paul to hurry back and save her from this unexpected distraction, but now she wanted him to stay put. For the first time since blatantly violating Washington's statute on underage drinking, she succumbed to guilt.

"So tell me, Joel Smith of Helena, Montana, what were you doing sitting on a street bench at nine o'clock at night looking like something the cat dragged in?"

"I was resting."

"Resting? Resting from what?"

"From a bumpy, twenty-four-hour ride in an empty, freezing boxcar, eight miles of walking, several job rejections, and a day on the streets eating rotten produce."

Grace blushed.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My story is only half as bad as it sounds. And don't worry about me. I've got all I need now. The Carters are looking after me. They're great people."

"They are."

Before Grace could get in another word, Paul and Tom returned. Arm in arm, they held their sides and tried to contain growing laughter.

"If it weren't for his old man, he'd still be in jail. Talk about a wedding gift!" Paul pulled back his arm and looked at Grace. "Sorry, honey. We're just being boys."

"That's OK. I know you need some room."

Paul walked up to Grace, gave her a kiss, and hugged her tightly with one arm.

"This is why I love this girl."

Grace glanced at Joel and saw that his smile was gone. He stared off into space.

"We should go, Paul."

"Now?"

"Yes. I'm tired."

"But we haven't even said hi to Ginny. She's sitting over on the picnic table with Linda and Katie. It will just take a minute."

"No. Let's go. I will see them all tomorrow."

"All right, baby. We're off. But let me at least get rid of your glass."

Paul shook Tom's hand.

"Sorry to drink and run, old pal, but Grace is right. We've had a long day. Let's do this again when I get back in August."

"Count on it," Tom said.

"It was nice meeting you, Joel."

"You too."

Paul took Grace's empty wine glass and walked halfway across the yard to a table of dirty dinnerware, where Brenda and Lauren tried to get a jump on the massive cleanup. He waved to three familiar coeds, grabbed a brownie off a tray, and headed back.

When Grace saw Paul draw near, she clutched her purse and gave Tom a hug. She greatly admired the carefree young man who had made her best friend so happy.

"Bye, Tom. Congratulations, again. You should be proud."

"Thanks, Grace. Thanks for coming."

As Grace stepped away from Tom, she threw her eyes at Joel. His beautiful smile was back. But it was sad and wistful, not flirtatious or cocky. It was the smile from Forty-Seventh Street and not one she needed to see tonight. She offered her hand.

"You're an interesting man, Joel Smith. Perhaps we'll meet again."

"I'd like that. Take care."

Exhausted, anxious, and more than a little distracted, Grace rejoined the man she had promised to marry and headed into the night.

CHAPTER 29

The nondescript rambler on the corner of Klickitat Avenue and East Fifty-Sixth Street was no Carter Castle. Peeling gray paint greeted its occupants on the outside, while peeling white paint did the same inside. Two closets lacked doors and a window in back required hydraulic equipment to open. But the place had four bedrooms, a functioning kitchen, and a large cedar porch in back. At forty dollars a month, it was a steal for three cash-strapped coeds and their old money ringleader. Even on a twelve-month lease.

"Who is he, really?" Linda asked, as she helped Ginny push a wool-covered club sofa against a living room wall. Tom had purchased the repossessed piece for a song and given it to the girls as a moving-in present. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Tom thinks he really is from Montana, but he's not sure he buys the rancher bit," Ginny said. "Nor do I. Joel has smoother hands than I do and better diction."

"I noticed that too. He looks more like a banker's son than a rancher's son. Maybe he's an heir to an oil fortune who's lost his way," Linda said with a sly grin.

"Somehow I doubt it. I know the rich, dear, and they don't typically ride the rails in empty boxcars."

Moments later Katie and Grace, in shorts and sweatshirts, stumbled through the front door with a large cardboard box. They deposited it next to the sofa and took a seat.

"Make yourselves comfortable, ladies," Ginny said. "Would you like a pedicure before we bring in the other boxes? Or perhaps some wine to take the edge off your labor?"

Grace laughed.

"I'd like both, please. My feet are still sore from Saturday."

Katie reached into a pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes.

"Here are your cigarettes, Ginny. I found them in one of the boxes, next to your face cream."

"Thank you, Katie."

Ginny sat on a stool, struck a match, and found tobacco tranquility. She stared at Grace and Katie, who had kicked off their shoes, lifted their feet from the hardwood floor, and settled into the ends of the couch like cats curling up for an afternoon nap.