High-Caliber Concealer (14 page)

“Cigarette butt,” said Jackson shaking his
head. “Car in front of me, tossed it out the window.”

“Did you get their license plate number?”
asked Peg. “I’d call them in. They could have done a lot of
damage.”

“Didn’t have time,” said Jackson shaking his
head, and wiping ash out of his face.

“Well, stop up at the house on your way
home,” said Peg. “I’ll fix you some lemonade as a reward.”

“I’d rather have pie,” said Jackson
grinning.

“I thought the pie went without saying,”
said Peg, patting him on the shoulder. “Now let’s get home before
the groceries melt.”

The groceries hadn’t melted and Jackson
helped carry them into the house, then started to put things away
without being asked. Nikki watched suspiciously as he moved around
the kitchen, tucking away the canned goods, putting the meat in the
right fridge drawer without being asked. Just how much time had
Jackson been spending in this kitchen?

“Did Jackson tell you he bought the spread
up on Torrence?” asked Peg, pulling out pie and lemonade.

“No, he didn’t,” said Nikki.

“We didn’t have a lot of time to catch up,”
said Jackson. “What with Nikki getting into barroom brawls and what
not.”

“Barroom brawl,” corrected Nikki. “Singular,
not plural. And you had plenty of time afterward. You could have
mentioned it.”

“It didn’t come up in conversation.” Jackson
didn’t look the least bit repentant.

“That terrain’s a bit hilly for farming up
there, isn’t it?” asked Nikki, as Jackson pulled out the lemonade
and glasses.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You sound like my
dad. Not everything is about farming.” He handed Nikki a glass and
pushed one in Peg’s direction, trading it for a plateful of
pie.

“So what are you going to do?” asked
Nikki.

“Raise rodeo bulls and make wine.”

Nikki accepted a wide wedge of pie from Peg.
“Grandma, I’m not going to fit any of those vintage clothes if you
keep trying to fatten me up. Bulls and wine? They don’t seem to go
together.”

“Au contraire
,” he
replied, butchering the accent on purpose and laughing when Nikki
winced. “Bull dung is a great fertilizer and makes the grapes grow
faster. Grape skins are full of vitamins and can be fed to the
bulls. Interlocking system.” He laced his fingers together to
demonstrate.

“You’ve got it all figured out then,” said
Nikki.

“No, I really don’t,” he said shaking his
head. “This year is my first real growing season. I’m still
struggling to hone in on the right grape varietals. It’s
interesting terrain up here. If I get any decent wine at all this
year, it’ll be a miracle. And the cows are doing their thing. But
my babies only turn two this summer. They need another three years
or so before I can put them to work. Right now, I’m keeping my
fingers crossed that my savings don’t run out before the bulls are
ready. I’m probably going to be doing a couple of ‘special
appearances’ in the ring for the next few years while people still
remember me enough to care. Keep the cash coming in for a little
bit, instead of going out.”

“Three years?” Nikki took a bite of pie. “So
this is kind of a long term thing you’ve got going.”

“Well, I’m currently working my five-year
plan, but I put together a ten-year business model before I even
made an offer on the ranch.”

“I think my longest range plan right now
currently includes breakfast,” said Nikki, feeling the onset of
existential angst.

Jackson shrugged. “This is where I am right
now.”

“Jackson is going to be a big success,” said
Peg, patting his shoulder. “Just you wait. It’s going to work out
perfectly.”

“Your grandma has a lot of faith,” said
Jackson, sheepishly rubbing his ear. “Anyway,” he finished his
lemonade in a gulp, “I need to get back home before Captain
Beaumont gets too annoyed.”

“Wouldn’t do to upset your number one farm
hand,” said Peg, shaking her head and Jackson laughed.

“Too true,” he agreed.

“Nikki, walk him out,” Peg commanded.

Nikki did as she was told, but promised
herself to have a little talk with Peg later.

“Peg’s not too subtle,” said Jackson when
they were out on the porch.

“I have a boyfriend,” said Nikki. “I guess
I’m going to have to remind her of that.”

“She knows,” said Jackson. “I’ve heard all
about your ‘government employee boyfriend.’ I just don’t think she
cares. And by the way, I don’t think she cares too much for
government employees.”

Nikki sighed. “Z’ev isn’t really…” she
trailed off.

“Isn’t really what?”

“He’s not like other government employees,”
she said. “He works for the state department and travels a lot.
He’s not a cubicle dweller or anything boring.”

“Hmm. Well, it might help if you actually
let him meet your family,” suggested Jackson.

“Yeah, the problem with that is I’d have to
let him meet my family,” said Nikki.

Jackson laughed.

“I’d love to say that your mom isn’t that
bad.”

“But we both know that you hate to lie. Are
you going to the Fernandez thing on Friday?”

“Yeah. I was hoping to catch up with Donny.
I’ve barely gotten to see him since he’s been in town. Are you
going? Do you want me to pick you up on the way down?”

Nikki nodded, making the date without
thinking. “Yeah, sounds good. I ran into Donny at the grocery
store. He said something odd. I didn’t have a chance to follow up
at the time because Kristine Pims showed up. Is she just a
mega-bitch or does she reserve that for me?”

Jackson shrugged. “I’ve seen her be nice to
people.”

“I also ran into Ylina—the girl from the
bar. She seemed kind of freaked and she implied that the sheriff
was kind of a hard ass about illegal immigrants.”

“He’s the sheriff. He gets paid to be a hard
ass about illegal immigrants.”

“Yeah, but last night, after he took those
two goons away, I saw the one in the Carhartts out on the
street.”

“Well, Ylina did steal his car and pot is
legal now, so he probably didn’t have anything to hold him on.”

“What’s pot got to do with anything?”

“Didn’t you notice? Well, maybe you didn’t,
since you didn’t have to schlep him out to the porch. The guy
reeked of pot. They both did.”

“Huh. You would think that my statement
about her being threatened and attacked would be enough to warrant
an arrest, regardless of whether or not pot was legal or his car
got stolen.”

Jackson shrugged uncomfortably. “The sheriff
is kind of a good ol’ boy. I’m not saying he’s a swell guy or
anything, but people wouldn’t keep voting him in if he didn’t do
his job.”

“Arresting people who attack women in bars
is his job,” said Nikki.

“You didn’t suffer any from getting
attacked.”

“Oh, so I have to lose in order for them to
be arrested? That’s a chunk of bullshit that would fertilize a
whole vineyard. I was attacked. He didn’t arrest them. Next time,
I’d think about voting for someone else if I were you.”

Nikki marched back inside and managed,
barely, to not slam the door behind her. She took a moment to count
to ten. It was something her grandfather had always recommended,
but she had never followed the advice until she started working for
Carrie Mae. When she didn’t count to ten bad things happened, and
when you carry a gun, bad things tend to be a little more
permanent.

There was a knock on the door. Nikki swung
it back open prepared to continue the argument with Jackson.

“So, pick you up around seven?”

“What?”

“The Fernandez Fiesta.”

“Oh, yeah. OK.”

“OK, see you then.”

Jackson walked off the porch and climbed
into his truck.

“I’m still mad at you!” she yelled after
him.

“You bet!” he yelled back, which didn’t mean
anything. Nikki glared after the dust trail left by the truck. The
problem with being back in Kaniksu Falls was that it was too easy
to forget that she wasn’t seventeen anymore. Old habits died hard,
and Jackson was a habit that seemed particularly hard to break.

Walking back down the hall toward the
kitchen, she could hear her grandmother talking to someone on the
phone.

“No, Nell, it has to be done.” Hearing her
mother’s name, Nikki paused outside the kitchen. “Well, I know you
don’t want to, but it’s time. Look, she’s out on the porch with
Jackson, so I don’t have a lot of time to discuss this. Jackson is
a fine young man. I’ve never understood why you don’t like him.
Yes, I know she has a boyfriend. Nell! Stop arguing with me and
start listening. I will do it myself and if you don’t want me to,
then I suggest you take a few days off work and get your fanny over
here. Call me when you leave Seatac. I’ll head down to Spokane and
pick you up.” Peg slammed the phone receiver, still attached to its
rotary dial body by a long curling cord back into the cradle.

Nikki pursed her lips, thinking about what
she’d heard. Pre-Carrie Mae she would have barged in and demanded
an explanation. But if she had learned anything from Carrie Mae, it
was that a full frontal assault was not always the best strategic
decision. Instead, she waited a second longer and then sauntered
into the kitchen.

“Did you have any thoughts about what you
wanted to do for dinner?” she asked carrying the pie plates over to
the sink. “I bought a few things, but I didn’t know what you
wanted.”

“I usually just make a sandwich,” said Peg,
running a hand through her hair. “Cooking for one is always so
difficult. So whatever you want is fine with me.”

“I’ll probably make some chicken then,” said
Nikki, her mouth on autopilot.

“I’ll cook it,” said Peg. “But after I get
back from the orchard. I should go check on things.”

“OK,” said Nikki, with a smile that had been
carefully crafted to look genuine. “I’ll probably go take a dip in
the pond.”

“Sounds lovely, dear,” said Peg, already
moving toward the door.

Nikki watched the door shut and tried not to
grit her teeth. She was so tired of secrets.

Nikki waited for Peg to leave then went
upstairs to change. Her vintage outfit was going to have to be
washed again. It smelled like smoke. She left it soaking in the
sink as she changed into a swimsuit and shorts, grabbed a towel and
headed for the pond. Her flip-flops smacked her heels, clicking
along like her mind as she flipped through the theories of what Peg
would think Nell needed to tell her. None of her theories seemed
worthwhile. She stopped at the shed to retrieve an inner tube and
noticed that her grandfather’s beat up old Ford truck was parked
under a tarp. She lifted a corner and kicked the tires. It seemed
functional. With a shrug, Nikki left it and booted her inner tube
down the hill to the pond. It bounced in crazy arcs before entering
the water with a splash.

It was a manmade pond, fed by a re-routed
creek that kept the water flowing and fresh. It had been intended
for the cattle to use, but these days Peg didn’t keep more than the
one horse and a grumpy goat. It was shaded on one half by a giant
oak and was cold even on the hottest summer day. Nikki slathered
herself in sunscreen, put on her sunglasses and lowered herself
carefully into the inner tube, holding her phone high above the
water. Then she kicked her way to the shady side of the pond and
dialed Ellen.

“Oh, thank God,” said Ellen picking up.
Ellen always said that after spending more than three days with her
daughters and their children. The daughters seemed like very nice
people, but they had a very mistaken impression of what stage of
life their mother was in. “You’ve got to help me, Nikki. They’ve
started pointing out LifeAlert commercials to me.”

“Did you tell them that they’ve got it
backwards and that you’re the one who causes other people to fall
and not get up?”

“Martina actually said the words, ‘I’m not
as young as I once was.’” Martina was younger than Nikki and had a
two-year-old daughter. “I wanted to smack her. And then she
suggested that I should really consider end-of-life planning.”

Nikki snorted and almost fell through the
inner tube. “They do grow up quick,” she said, her voice quavering
with repressed laughter.

“No, they got old quick! How did I raise
such fuddy-duddy daughters? It’s like they’re trying so hard to be
adult and instead they’re just old, grumpy people complaining about
the neighbor boy who won’t stay off their lawn.”

“Oh, dear.”

“So, tell me if this is too bad. I invited
the neighborhood boy in for cookies and then I went and played
catch with him on their lawn.”

“How did that go over?”

“My son-in-law, George, joined in. I think
I’m making a dent there. He seems to enjoy breaking a few rules.
But I swear to God, I’m napalming the next set of khakis I
see.”

“I thought you liked khakis?”

“On me! Down here I feel like I’m living in
a frigging Gap Outlet.”

Nikki laughed. “Jane must be rubbing off on
you.”

“Or maybe she’s on to something. Maybe it’s
a truth that we should universally acknowledge: the Gap should be
fire-bombed.”

“Did they try to make you go to the
Community Center again?”

“They tried to sign me up for square
dancing, with a lovely gentleman who is eighty if he’s a day.
Square dancing, Nikki. Square dancing! Who do they think I am?”

“You’re grandma, and grandmas stay home and
bake things and nap. And apparently like square dancing.”

“Is your grandma napping?”

“She should be,” said Nikki. “She got up at
six to go supervise work in the peach orchard, baked a fresh pie,
made me breakfast, tried to teach me to shoot, had her hair done,
and is now back out at the orchard. That’s a busy day. I want a
nap.”