Queenie's Cafe (13 page)

Luke asked, “Was that a ring in his shirt pocket?”

“Apparently he thought I was from a different Whitfield family. The wealthy ones who would never be seen in a place like this. The thought of me working in this dump was too much for him to handle.”

Luke’s lips twitched in an almost smile. “Mama didn’t like it much either.”

Did people really pay that much attention to pedigree these days?

Beatrice Brill would probably have a heart attack if she knew about Florence.

What made Corbin think she’d marry him? She’d never given him a reason to believe she was attracted to him, and the question of love had never come up. He’d kissed her a few times, awkward closed-mouthed kisses that seemed to embarrass him. Apparently he wasn’t experienced with women any more than she was with men. He’d talked about his mother often, about her plans for his future. He’d disappointed her by not getting accepted into law school.

If Laura had had a chance of going to college, she would have worked her butt off to get good grades. She was a reasonably good student in high school, although there were times when she was too tired to do her homework after working in the café all afternoon and evening. Queenie had never asked if she had homework or if she had a test to study for; she’d just expected her to work.

If she ever had children, they wouldn’t grow up working like she had.

Her children would have a better life.

Chapter Seven

I
vy kept her room and Laura’s apartment clean, did the laundry and helped clean the café after Laura closed in the evenings. She came over for meals when there was no one else around, slipping quietly in the back door. She seemed afraid of something.

Laura knew she could be inviting trouble, but she couldn’t throw the kid out. It didn’t make sense to let Ivy wander around, starving, sleeping who knew where, and putting herself in danger when there were so many vacant rooms in the motel.

Ivy said she called her parents, but if she did, she called collect, because the only long distance charges on Laura’s phone bill were to Ocala, to her own parents.

The first Monday after she opened the café, Ivy put a coat of paint on the restroom walls. The next Monday, she put on the second coat. It looked great with the new floors. Laura inspected the work. “Good job, Ivy. If only I could afford to paint the outside.”

“It’s too hot to work out there.”

“It sure is. This is the hottest May I can remember.” It was too early for it to be this hot and miserable.

The hot sun should have burned off some of the moisture in the air, but it hadn’t. The air hung, heavy with heat and humidity, smothering every living thing. Flowers bloomed and wilted in the scorching sun. Mosquitoes swarmed from the palmetto bushes behind the motel, munching on every bit of exposed skin.

No, this was definitely not a good time to work outside.

<>

Chubby’s old furniture arrived Wednesday afternoon. Laura picked some pieces for the dining area and Luke stored the rest in a vacant motel room. As they moved the old furniture out and put the new in, the café was transformed. The blue carpet with the little pink and yellow flowers looked great with the dark furniture, and the slight pink tinge of the walls gave the room a warm glow. What would Queenie think? Would she still think Laura was lazy?

Yes, she probably would.

Luke and his delivery man loaded up most of the old furniture from the café to take to the dump, including the sagging chair Queenie used to sit in all the time. The legs were bowed out from her weight, the back angled back more than the others, and the stuffing from the seat cushion peeked out of the cracked vinyl. It was a wonder it hadn’t collapsed under her.

The men took one full load to the dump and came back for the rest. The truck was only half full the second time, so Laura asked, “Could you take a few more things? I need to get rid of Queenie’s old furniture, including the bed. Everything in that room needs to go. Room fifteen, right behind the diner. It’s not locked.”

Luke helped his driver load up and brought Queenie’s photo album into the cafe. He put it on the counter by the dining area and helped Laura get the new tables and chairs arranged. “There’s enough furniture left for that sunroom addition we talked about.”

Maybe she really would get that room one of these days, if business continued to improve and she got all this other stuff paid off.

“Well, Laura, what do you think of the furniture? Do you like it?”

“I love it.” The old-fashioned furniture gave the place a homey, welcoming look. “It’s perfect, Luke. Thank you.” Queenie’s had never looked better, but now she owed this man even more.

He leaned down and kissed her, a raunchy, open-mouthed kiss that left no doubt about what he wanted. Although her body ached for more, she said, “I can’t, Luke... I’ve never—”

The muscles in Luke’s jaw clenched as he stepped back. “Never what?”

“Had sex,” she said softly.

“You’re kidding. You’re a virgin?” He sounded as stunned as if she’d told him she robbed banks on her days off. Why should it surprise him to learn she’d never been with a man like that? He’d met the only man she’d ever dated more than once, and anyone could see a woman’s virtue would be safe with Corbin Brill.

“Is that a crime?”

“No, I just thought—”

“Thought what? Thought that since my mother was a prostitute, I must be doing it, too?” She wanted him to respect her, but he obviously didn’t, and it hurt. Who was she to this man? Just another notch on his belt? Was that what he wanted from a partnership? She wouldn’t sell herself to him or to anyone else. She’d stay a virgin forever before she’d sell her body like Florence.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Queenie was a prostitute?”

“Queenie wasn’t my mother. Get out of here. Find yourself another woman. Figure out what I owe you and I’ll pay you as soon as I can. “

He stood in the middle of the café, hands on his hips, looking stunned. “What about the partnership?”

“I can’t talk business with you now. Go away.” She turned away so he couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. He acted like there was something wrong with her because other men hadn’t slept with her. Maybe there
was
something wrong with her. The only other man who’d ever shown any interest in her had mistaken her for someone else.

She heard the door open and then heard his car, but she didn’t look.

She couldn’t.

As customers arrived for dinner, everyone remarked on the new furniture. Marv Walker, who was there for breakfast and dinner nearly every day, said, “This place doesn’t look or smell like Queenie’s anymore.”

It was the best compliment any customer could have given her.

<>

The next morning, when Charley Fenderman brought the coffee pot back for a refill, he spotted the photo album and asked, “What’s this?”

“Queenie’s photo album. Did you know her folks used to run this place?”

“Yes, ma’am, I surely did. Seems like they was kinda sickly. They named the diner after her, you know. They thought the sun rose and set in that girl.”

“Was she their only child?”

“Only one that lived. She had a brother, but he died. Drowned in the river, I seem to recall. Shoot, he was just a kid, maybe nine or ten.” He motioned toward the photo album. “I’ll bet there’s a picture of him in here. Mind if I look?”

“Help yourself.”

Charley took the photo album back to the table, where he and Marv Walker passed it back and forth, reminiscing about the past. Charley and Marv both grew up in the area. They were kids when Queenie’s was built.

Carmen Messina came in at lunchtime and looked at the album. “Did you look at these pictures, Laura?”

“Not yet.”

“Laura, here’s a picture of the diner before they painted it that awful flamingo color.”

She walked over to look. Carmen held the book up and one of the pictures fell out, along with a little piece of paper with something written on it. Laura picked it up and glanced at the paper. It had a name and phone number written on it, and it looked like Queenie’s handwriting. Who was Hank?

Laura slipped the picture and piece of paper in her apron pocket. “The glue on some of those corners has melted away.”

“Looks like someone wrote the dates on the back of the pictures.” Carmen looked up at Laura. “Queenie didn’t have anyone left but you and Bruce, did she, Laura?”

“No, just us.” And not us, not really.

Queenie didn’t have anyone.

<>

Laura couldn’t get her mind off Luke, but he didn’t come by or call again until Friday afternoon, when he appeared with the appraiser. She glanced out the window now and then to see them measuring and looking at the rooms at the motel.

After the appraiser left, Luke came into the café. “It was too late to cancel.”

“That’s all right.” She wiped off the tables and grabbed the carpet sweeper from the storeroom. “It seems I’m always apologizing to you.”

“And I’m always sticking my big foot in my mouth.” He took the carpet sweeper and ran it over the spilled salt on the carpet. “Laura, I thought Queenie was your mother.”

“So did I, until she died. It’s Florence.”

“Florence?” Luke looked stunned, then started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your mother was a prostitute and I’m a bastard.”

She propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “So?”

“I thought that was why you didn’t like me.”

She grabbed the carpet sweeper from his hand. “Because your parents weren’t married? Mine weren’t either, but I have no intention of continuing that tradition.”

“I don’t either. Laura, I’d really like to have more than a business relationship with you, if you’re interested.”

Interested? Yes, she was interested, but aside from business, she didn’t know the first thing about having a real relationship with a man, especially one who confused her as much as this one did.

She carried the carpet sweeper into the storeroom. When she turned, she found him standing in the kitchen, leaning back on the counter. “I can’t believe you’re interested in someone like me, Luke. You can have any woman you want. I’m just a nobody.”

“A strong, sassy, independent, stubborn—”

“Nobody,” she finished for him. Even wimpy Corbin thought she wasn’t worth his time.

She was lost in his eyes and in the look of longing he gave her, but the mood was broken when the bell on the door rang. It was nearly five, dinnertime. She turned away to greet her customers, glad for the interruption of a conversation she found uncomfortable.

But she couldn’t get her mind off Luke.

He knew and still wanted her.

<>

Saturday afternoon Luke sent her flowers. Tiny pink roses. The note said simply:
I’m sorry.
He didn’t sign his name, but she knew who they were from. She put them on the counter between the kitchen and dining area, without the card.

Her regular customers teased her, all but Jay.

He frowned.

<>

Monday afternoon, Laura started the dough for the cinnamon rolls and then stood at the front door, washing fingerprints off the glass. A tall, skinny man with dreadlocks and a nose ring stopped by looking for his kid sister. The man showed Laura a picture of Ivy. “Have you seen her?”

Ivy had gone back to her room an hour ago. Laura didn’t know who this guy was, but he didn’t look anything like Ivy. He had dark skin and nappy hair, and she was a brown-eyed blonde. “I don’t think so. What’s her name?”

“Jill, but I doubt she’s using that name.”

“Did she do something wrong?”

“Runaway.”

“Why did she run away?”

His eyes narrowed. “Look, lady, have you seen the kid or not?”

“Not!” Laura didn’t like this guy and didn’t want him here. “If I see her, I’ll tell her to call home.” She went inside and bolted the door. The car that pulled away had Georgia plates. Why would a kid like Ivy know a man like that?