Back in Kansas Page 22

  “What do you mean?”

  “The wedding. That’s just what he needed to hear. Now, he truly has something to aim for in his rehabilitation.”

  Bo swallowed painfully. “I…uh…I didn’t necessarily think he’d take that seriously. I mean…Claudie and I…we haven’t really talked about…uh…I think I hurt her.”

  Ruth squeezed his hand. “You’ll be home tomorrow. You can make things right. Claudie’s a smart girl and I know she loves you. Together, you can fix it.”

  Bo sighed and enveloped her in a hug. If his parents could reconcile after so much marital strife, surely there was hope for him and Claudie.

  CLAUDIE ADDED a sprinkle of cinnamon to the frothy cappuccino and handed the cup to the customer on the other side of the counter. She seldom worked the coffee bar, but Sara was handling the book side of the store while their two new employees—both young prostitutes who were struggling to leave their pasts behind—were on break.

  “How did we ever handle this business without outside help?” Sara asked, clambering awkwardly onto a stool.

  “We had Keneesha,” Claudie said.

  The two exchanged a look and burst out laughing. “Claudie, Kee’s a great friend, but she thought the espresso machine came off the starship Enterprise.”

  “I know,” Claudie agreed, smiling at the memory. “But she was terrific with Brady.”

  “True. And at the time we didn’t have Ren to babysit.”

  Claudie prepared a fruit smoothie in the new blender they’d installed for the popular iced drinks. “Here,” she said, setting the old-fashioned parfait glass on the counter in front of Sara. “Drink up. It’s peaches and cream. The babies will love it.”

  Sara beamed. “You take such good care of me. Mmm,” she murmured. “Yummy.”

  Keeping one eye on the door at the far end of the building, Claudie said, “Sara, I’m worried about Rochell. I think she might be doing drugs. What should I do?”

  Sara took a long draw on her straw before answering. “One Wish House’s policy on that subject is crystal clear. She wouldn’t be the first who couldn’t make it, Claudie.”

  Claudie nodded. Of the twelve women Claudie had tried to help, only six were still off the streets—the four at One Wish House and two who’d married and moved to other cities. Five had gone back to hooking. One died from a drug overdose.

  “If you’d seen her eyes this morning…” Claudie began but couldn’t finish. It killed her to give up on anyone, but she knew the futility of trying to help someone who didn’t want help. “I’m sure she’s using. I should have busted her this morning. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

  “I do,” Sara said. “She reminds you of yourself. I thought so, too, the minute I saw her.”

  Claudie made a face. “Sara, Rochell’s black.”

  “That has nothing to do with what I’m talking about. She’s alone and angry and smart and touchy. Just like you were.”

  “Touchy?”

  Sara nodded. She gingerly lowered herself off the stool and stepped away from the bar. “Come here.”

  Claudie groaned. “I’m busy. I still have to unpack the FedEx box.”

  “Come.”

  Claudie did as she was told.

  When they were standing shoulder to shoulder, Sara said, “I remember a time when the only person who could touch you was Brady.”

  Claudie’s laugh was supposed to sound ironic, but it came out forced and harsh. “Sara, I don’t know how you and Ren do it, but, believe me, what I did for a living involved a whole lot of touching.”

  Sara stuck out her tongue. “I don’t mean that kind of touching. I mean hugs. Like this.” She wrapped her arms around Claudie and squeezed. Sara’s rounded tummy kept them slightly apart, but Claudie automatically hugged her back.

  Claudie laughed. “You are so nuts. What does this prove?”

  Sara pulled back slightly, but didn’t let go. “It means you’ve evolved, my friend. You’re not afraid to let yourself touch or be touched…by someone who loves you.”

  Just then, the two new clerks walked past them toward the coffee bar. Both girls gave them a sideways glance, then looked away.

  Sara dropped her arms and Claudie stepped back, embarrassed.

  Claudie looked at Sara and they burst out laughing.

  Wait till I tell Bo, Claudie thought, then sobered. When, Bo? When are you coming home?

  BO LOOKED at his watch. He’d known he was cutting it close by stopping at Pennington on his way to the airport, but he’d needed to tell his father goodbye in person.

  “What time do you get to Sacramento?” Matt asked from the driver’s seat.

  “Ten.”

  “Did you let Claudie know you’re coming?”

  Bo nodded. “I left two messages—at the bookstore and at One Wish House. I’ll try again from Denver if I have time. My car’s in long-term so I don’t need a ride, but I’m anxious to see her.” What an understatement that is!

  “One Wish House sounds like a pretty cool place. I’m impressed that Claudie’s trying to help other women. I knew a few hookers when I worked vice. It’s a tough life.”

  Looking out the window, Bo sighed. “It still amazes me that she survived in that business for as long as she did without giving up.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Underneath that tough exterior is a very soft heart. She proved that in Kansas.” He glanced at Bo and added, “Did I tell you I talked to Sara this morning? Doesn’t sound like Claudie’s stepfather is going to be with us much longer.”

  It was on the tip of Bo’s tongue to say “Good,” but the memory of the shattered look on Claudie’s face when she told her family goodbye made him swallow the thought. He’d learned a few things himself about fathers in the past week. Even the worst was forever a part of your heart.

  Neither man spoke for several miles, then Matt said, “I keep forgetting to ask—do you know some guy named Mike?”

  Bo’s stomach lifted and fell as though the Jeep just hit a bump. “I know half a dozen Mikes. Why?”

  Matt shrugged, turning the wheel to take the airport exit. “Just curious. Claudie mentioned the name before she left. I thought he might be someone from her past. I could check him out if you want.”

  Bo’s relief was conflicted. His mother had said Claudie took Mike’s photo with her. “No. I’ll take care of it. You’re gonna be busy looking for Eve.”

  Matt snorted. “Piece of cake. She’s a celebrity. They don’t fall off the face of the earth without someone knowing something.”

  They talked business the rest of the way to the airport where Bo had Matt drop him off without waiting. He lugged his suitcase to the ticket counter only to discover his flight had been delayed one hour.

  “Mechanical difficulties, Mr. Lester,” the ticket agent told him.

  “Will it affect my connection in Denver?” Bo asked.

  The woman entered data into the terminal then smiled. “No problem. You should make it with time to spare.”

  TIME TO SPARE, Bo thought ruefully, as he watched his Sacramento-bound connection taxi away from the gate. Cursing under his breath, he tracked down a ticket agent who spent twenty minutes trying every configuration known to man to get him on the next available flight.

  “Six-sixteen,” the woman chirped.

  Bo looked at his watch. “Eleven minutes from now?”

  She shook her head. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “No way. There’s got to be something else tonight. Did you try Salt Lake? Seattle? L.A.?”

  She nodded. “Everything. There have been fog problems in San Francisco impacting all West Coast flights. I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I can give you a voucher for a motel room, but in all honesty, you might want to stay put. You’re going to be on standby and it pays to be the first one here.”

  Muttering his disgust, he took his new itinerary and headed for the bank of phones in the center of the concourse. Denver’s
new airport was sleek, modern and efficient, but it was still an airport, and he wasn’t a bit happy about spending the night there.

  His mood didn’t improve after four phone calls. Neither Matt nor Ren answered, so he had to leave messages, but he couldn’t tell them to call his cell phone because he’d mistakenly packed it in the suitcase he checked through. A woman named Mary answered at the bookstore, but she refused to call either Sara or Claudie to the phone, telling him they were in a very important meeting and couldn’t be bothered. He tried One Wish House, planning to leave a message for Claudie but the line was busy.

  Someone’s online, I bet. We’ve got to get a second phone line in there, he thought.

  Sighing, Bo found an empty chair in a nearly deserted gate and sat down. He pulled out his laptop, thinking he could at least play catch-up on business, even if his life was hanging in limbo. He released the latch and pushed the power button.

  He frowned. Does it always take this long to load?

  The screen saver appeared—along with a little symbol telling him he was out of power. “Damn,” he swore out loud.

  He snapped the lid closed in disgust and slumped down in the chair.

  “Low battery?” a voice asked.

  Bo glanced up. A well-dressed businessman gave him a friendly smile. “There’s a place over in the main terminal that gives you a power hookup, Internet access, the whole thing. They charge by the minute, but it’s pretty reasonable—compared to the price of beer, anyway.”

  Bo sat up. “I’m interested. Tell me more.”

  Eleven minutes later, Bo was breathless from his trot to the far end of the main terminal. Laptop Lane, he read, checking out the small storefront. The posted hours told him he had forty-five minutes to get his battery recharged.

  “Feel free to send e-mail,” the cheerful clerk told him, handing him the key to his private office cubicle.

  E-mail, he thought. E-mail. That might be the perfect way to tell Claudie his feelings. It beat the heck out of stuttering and stammering on an answering machine, and he certainly wasn’t about to trust his inner thoughts to any of the residents of One Wish House.

  E-mail. Fast. Private. Personal. Perfect.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “TRY THIS ONE, CLAUDIE,” Davina said, forcing a small, dumpling-shaped morsel into her mouth. “Spinach, shrimp and peanuts in won ton dough. It’s muy bueno.”

  Chewing, Claudie nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  Claudie looked around at the throng of people crowded into One Wish House’s backyard. A steady stream flowed in and out of the gate, some looking anxiously ahead to the striped awning where Maya and her cooks were dispensing the tasty little offerings, others triumphantly carrying their aluminum-foil-wrapped paper plates to their cars or to the tables set up along the fence.

  “Can you believe we pulled this off?” Davina asked. Her tone of awe matched what Claudie was feeling.

  “I wouldn’t have bet on it last night.” Claudie shuddered recalling the chaos in the small kitchen well past midnight. Fortunately, Maya had subcontracted a dozen of the dishes so Claudie and the girls were limited in what they’d had to prepare.

  A tall man carrying a messy-faced child split away from the crowd and approached them. At his side was an older woman, petite and elegant in white woolen trousers and a colorful sweater. “If I’d have known you were going to need the backyard I’d have hired a grounds crew to come in,” Ren Bishop said apologetically. As a landlord, he was a tenant’s dream.

  Claudie shrugged. “The grass would have gotten trampled anyway. I had no idea this would go over so big. Hello, Mrs. Bishop, how are you?”

  Babe’s reply was cut off by Brady’s yell. “Ninjas.”

  Claudie grinned. Maya had arranged for a troupe of Korean dancers and drummers to perform.

  Ren let Brady down but kept his eye on the rambunctious youngster. “I’d better not lose sight of him. If his mother didn’t kill me mine would.” He winked at Babe then looked at Sara who was perched on a stool taking money from eager buyers. “I just wanted to tell you I’m very impressed, Claudie. You’ve done an amazing job and from what Sara said you’re making money hand over fist.”

  Claudie tried to smile but only one thought came to mind: I wish Bo were here to see it.

  Ren patted her lightly on the shoulder. “He’ll be here soon, Claudie.”

  Claudie started, not even aware she’d spoken out loud.

  “Knowing Bo,” Ren added with a grin, “he probably hog-tied some passenger in the bathroom to be sure to get a seat out of Denver this morning. He’ll make it.”

  Ren turned suddenly and let out a low groan.

  “Brady, come back here, you little imp. Bye, ladies, see you later.” He took Babe’s elbow. “Mother, another dim sum goodie?”

  Davina followed them with her gaze. “What a hunk! You and Sara are both so lucky. Meester Bo’s not bad, either.”

  Claudie made herself smile. Everybody seemed to assume Bo would show up and they would magically be a couple. Only Claudie doubted it would be that simple.

  For one thing, there was the matter of the message on the answering machine.

  Claudie excused herself to go inside—ostensibly to check the indoor cooks, but she slipped past the kitchen and dashed upstairs to her office. She wanted to hear his message one more time. She hadn’t noticed the little flashing light last night until almost 1:00 a.m. on her way to bed. Sara had already called to tell her Bo’s flight had been delayed leaving New York and he was stranded in Denver, but Claudie hadn’t heard from him directly—until she checked her machine.

  “Hi,” his disembodied voice said “I’ll keep this short and sweet. I wanted to be there tonight but that isn’t going to happen, obviously. Save me some dim sum—whatever the hell that is—and I’ll see you tomorrow. By the way, have you checked your e-mail?”

  Claudie hadn’t had time to go online, but now seemed as good a time as any. She slipped into her padded chair and pushed the envelope icon on the keyboard. A minute later, Claudie’s breath caught in her throat. “A poem.”

  She scooted closer to the desk; her fingers were shaking so badly she could barely manage to move the mouse to scroll downward. She read:

  Silver wings took you away, but your golden heart remained—an amulet of love to guide the way home. Do you wait with open arms in the almost-memory of a honeymoon beside the roaring waters? Or did my callow act forge a river of sorrow too wide to span with poetry or electronic prose? A kiss might be a vow unspoken. But the question has yet to be asked or answered. Will you marry me?

  “Oh, my God. It’s a proposal,” she said dumb-founded.

  “A proposal? Of marriage? From Bo?” Sara cried rushing to Claudie’s side. “Let me see.”

  With a shaking hand, Claudie pointed at the screen.

  “It is!” Sara squealed a moment later. “He wants to marry you. This is so romantic.”

  “Romantic?” Claudie wailed. “Sara, we’ve barely even spoken since New York. Now, I’m supposed to say okay, let’s live happily ever after? Just because he sent me an e-mail?”

  Sara’s smiled faltered. “Y-yes?”

  “I don’t think so.” Claudie tried to sound stern but knew she’d failed when Sara whooped with joy. She also knew her friend was a cockeyed optimist who lacked the pragmatic objectivity she needed. “Where’s Ren?”

  “He just took Brady home. Daniel’s coming over to stay with him while Ren handles the auction.” Sara turned back to the screen. Her long sigh made Claudie cringe. “Ren doesn’t write me poems. Oh, Claudie, this is so beautiful. Let’s print it and frame it.”

  Claudie pushed the exit key. “No.”

  “Why? Don’t you want him to propose?”

  Claudie rose and paced to the window. Below, a mass of cars filled the street, taking up every spare parking place for three blocks on either side of One Wish House. No primer-gray Mazda in sight.

  “Sara, my mother married a man who loved her more than
she loved him. I let Bo into my life back in Kansas, but when I tried to return the favor, he closed up.” She sighed and closed her eyes, her heart heavy with regret. “I love Bo, but I refuse to live my life like Garret—bitter and angry because the person I love doesn’t love me the same way.”

  BO CLIMBED OUT of his car and stood for a minute just soaking up the December sunshine. The crisp breeze made him want to sing. Home. I’m finally home, he silently rejoiced.

  Well, not quite home, he amended, trotting to Ren Bishop’s back door. He tried the knob. It opened.

  “Anybody here?” he called out, walking into the kitchen. He’d planned to go right to One Wish House, but after a night on a bench in the Denver airport he needed a shower.

  “Is that you, Lester?” a voice replied.

  Bo opened the refrigerator and snatched a cold wiener from an open package. “You got it.”

  “Unca’ Bo,” Brady squealed, racing through the swinging door that connected with the dining room. The little boy launched himself into Bo’s arms, barely giving Bo time to chomp down on the hot dog.

  “Hey, superkid, I missed you,” he said, chewing. He hugged the little body as tight as he dared then let him drop to his feet. Kneeling in front of him, he looked the child over. “You’ve grown a foot. What are you feeding this kid?” he asked, looking up at Ren.

  “Tofu dogs. Like the one you’re eating.”

  Bo’s stomach lurched. He scrutinized the remaining half-eaten object then looked at Brady. “Not bad. I think I like ’em.”

  Rising, he shook hands with Ren. “It’s good to be home. I thought I should clean up before I head to Folsom. Mind if I use your shower?”

  “Make yourself at home. I’m heading back over there as soon as Daniel gets here. He’s going to read to Brady while I handle the MC duties at the auction.”

  Bo shouldered his tote bag and started toward the stairs. “What kind of things are you auctioning off?”

  “Mother strong-armed a couple of dozen businesses into donating items and services. Some artwork, tai chi lessons, a cord of firewood, a couple of trips…” He snapped his fingers and abruptly veered toward his office. “That reminds me—I almost forgot something.” Glancing over his shoulder at Bo he added, “Make it snappy. I’m due onstage in fifteen minutes.”