The New Hope Cafe (8 page)

“I was thinking you might want to try some toothpick
sculptures,” Jonah said. “I pulled up a website. Take a look.”

She clicked the mouse and saw pictures of toothpick buildings
and objects. “This is so cool.” She clicked through the pictures, then stopped
at the perfect one. “I’m going to make a castle,” she announced. “With a
drawbridge and everything.”

“You need help, let me know.”

“Thanks.” But she thought she could follow the picture just
fine. She liked Jonah. He was patient and kind and he made her feel calm. In
here with him, she forgot to feel sad about Serena or lonely or afraid that her
dad would find them.

Jonah’s shop was like a castle, too. She felt safe inside. She
kind of wished she never had to leave.

* * *

R
OSIE
IGNORED
THE
nurse at the checkout desk and marched right out the clinic door.

“Send the bill,” Cara said, then hurried after Rosie, who was
already at the car, her hands shaking so much she dropped her keys.

Cara picked them up. “I can drive,” she said.

“Good for you.” Rosie grabbed the keys, unlocked the doors and
got behind the wheel, starting off the instant Cara shut the door. Rosie’s eyes
stared dead ahead, her mouth a grim line.

“It’s just a mass, Rosie.”
Tumor
sounded so much worse. “They need to take it out to see if it’s benign.” Cara
had sat with Rosie for the talk after the exam, so she’d heard the doctor
describe the required outpatient surgery needed on Rosie’s stomach.

Rosie rammed the accelerator and they lurched onto Main,
cutting off a car that blasted its horn.

“It’s a shock, but don’t assume the worst. The odds are in your
favor.”

Rosie slammed on the brakes yards before the intersection,
earning more honks. “The odds? The odds are
never
in
my favor. I’m not a lucky person. Never have been.” She roared through the red
light.

Cara decided to hold her tongue so they could make it through
town without an accident. Once they were on open road, she said, “It’s a simple
outpatient procedure. You could visit your friend in Tucson.”

“If they cut me open, I’m a goner. A deal’s a deal. I got
checked.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong yet.”

“Not part of the deal.”

They pulled into the café lot and Cara beat Rosie to the door,
blocking her way. “Even if it
is
cancer, it can be
treated. Millions of people live long and happy lives afterward.”

“Get out of my way.” Rosie’s eyes burned at Cara. Her
grandmother had never been so ferocious, but Cara refused to quail.

“How about this? I’ll stay until you get the procedure. A whole
extra week with a waitress. You want that, right?”

“Move or I’ll knock you flat.”

She moved, letting Rosie lead the way upstairs. Logic, begging
and bargaining weren’t working. She needed a new approach. There was always
Jonah, but his blunt words might make things worse.

In Rosie’s kitchen, Cara took a handful of jelly beans from the
bowl, putting back all but her favorites—green. Green for good luck. What had
Rosie said?
I’m not a lucky person.
Never have been.

That gave her an idea. What if she made good-luck buns for
Rosie? She’d make sure Rosie got a green bean for good luck. It might not change
Rosie’s mind, but it would surely cheer her up, especially if Cara involved Beth
Ann. Rosie had a soft spot for Beth Ann, and her daughter had wanted Cara to
make the buns anyway.

At least the pecan rolls had gotten her past the bitter memory
of Barrett and the ruined muffins, the sting as each one struck her face or
chest, accompanied by a hateful insult. At first, the smell and feel of the
dough had made her stomach roil, but she’d gritted her teeth and pushed on,
determined to do what she could to save Rosie’s café. By the time Cara pulled
the first batch out of the oven, she was fine.

She took the bowl of jelly beans to the café kitchen, pulled
out a selection of ingredients, then headed out to Jonah’s shop to get her
daughter.

Reaching the door, she started inside, then heard Beth Ann’s
voice and stopped to listen.

“Do I really have to wait for the glue to dry before I stand
the castle walls up?” she asked.

Cara saw she was building with toothpicks. What a good idea.
Cara should have suggested that. She’d been so preoccupied with the café and
Rosie, she’d left her daughter to amuse herself. Not very responsible of
her.

Jonah looked up from the mahogany bench he was sanding—the one
with hearts modeled after Cara’s lips. The thought made her face grow hot.

“If the sticks slip, the foundation will be unstable,” he said.
“Mistakes amplify. You know what that means?
Amplify?
”

“Get louder?” Beth Ann answered.

“Or bigger. Yeah.”

Beth Ann sighed. “Then how do I make the drawbridge go up and
down?”

“What would you guess?”

“A string? If I can poke it between the picks?”

“Worth a try.”

“Do toothpicks forgive?”

Jonah chuckled. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Guess we will.” Beth Ann gave a contented sigh.

Cara felt a stab of envy at how comfortable her daughter was
with Jonah. She hadn’t been that easy with Cara in years.

Was it bad that Beth Ann had trusted him so readily? Was her
daughter too trusting? Jonah was a good person, Cara was certain, but people
could hide their true natures. Barrett was proof of that.

She didn’t want her daughter to fear men, but caution was
vital. Cara’s own choices made her no role model. That made her stomach
churn.

But that was a worry for another day. Beth Ann was content at
the moment and that was good.

“Hey there,” Cara said softly.

Jonah and Beth Ann seemed slow to turn away from their work,
making her feel even more like an interloper than when she’d scared away the
cat.

“You’re building with toothpicks,” Cara said, moving close to
Beth Ann’s stool. She saw a toothpick castle on the monitor. “A castle,
huh?”

“Jonah got me the stuff. He made this for me.” Beth Ann pointed
at a nameplate with
Bunny
spelled out in wooden
letters. “I can take it wherever I go.”

“How nice.” But she felt a twinge. When would Beth Ann have a
permanent place she could mark as her own? Not for a while. Like Cara’s garden,
it was a distant dream.

“Thank you, Jonah,” she said. “We know how busy you are.”

“Bunny’s good company,” Jonah said.

“See?” Beth Ann beamed.

“I do. In fact, I’d like your company right now. Remember those
good-luck buns I told you about? I thought we’d make some.”

“Not today. Jonah’s going to start me on my puzzle box.”

“It’s a surprise for Rosie. She’s feeling blue.”

“If I have to…” Beth Ann sighed, but she got down from the
stool. “You promise we can do the box tomorrow, Jonah?”

“Swear to God.” Jonah held up a hand.

Satisfied, Beth Ann started for the door.

“I see how I rate,” she said to Jonah, joking, but a bit hurt
by her daughter’s rejection.

“Can I talk to you?” Jonah asked.

“Sure.” She turned to her daughter. “Beth Ann, can you start
sorting the jelly beans by color? They’re in the café kitchen.”

Beth Ann scurried off and Cara went to Jonah.

“Rosie’d rather swim in fryer oil than confide in me. You have
any idea what’s got her down?”

She cringed. She’d promised Rosie not to tell Jonah. “She’ll
tell you when she’s ready, I’m sure.” She hoped that would be soon.

“If anyone could drag it out of her it’s you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do. You’re good with people—customers, Ernesto, Rosie…even
me. And I’ve heard that’s no picnic.” His smile was wry.

“You’re good with my daughter,” she said, feeling a stab of
guilt that Beth Ann felt more relaxed with Jonah than with her own mother.

He shrugged that off. “She’s easy.”

“Not with me, she’s not.”

“That’s because you’re her mother. I’m a stranger she has to be
polite to.”

“It’s more than that. You make her feel safe. Relaxed. When I
saw her in here the other day, she was humming.”

“Yeah. She does that.”

“Not for years.” Cara’s throat tightened.

“You worry about her.” It wasn’t a question.

“She won’t let me comfort her. She won’t talk about what’s
troubling her. I don’t know how to help her.” She couldn’t even make her
daughter feel safe.

“You’re a good mother,” Jonah says. “She knows that. You’ll
sort it out.”

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t know our…situation.” He
didn’t know Cara had stayed too long after she’d seen the cold steel that lay
beneath Barrett’s loving mask. Beth Ann had suffered from Cara’s bad
judgment.

“I know what I see.” His eyes were so steady, so certain. If
only he were right. With all her heart, she wanted him to be.

“Thank you for that.” She felt a little better, whether it was
justified or not.

“Actually, I wanted to thank you. That day with the rocking
chair.”

“Really?” That surprised her. “I was sure I’d upset you.”

“At first. But then it felt good to see you and Bunny enjoying
it. I didn’t build that chair to gather dust.” He pressed a palm to his chest.
“You showed me I’d gotten past this bad patch I’ve been going through.”

He meant with his wife and the lost pregnancy, she was sure.
Emotion tightened Cara’s throat. “I’m glad then.”

“Me, too.” He held her gaze. The connection clicked between
them, stronger than ever. Jonah didn’t know her story, but
he knew her.
And she knew him. It felt good…important…right.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Jonah said. Wham. Desire burned
through her, hotter than ever and it lit those gold sparks in Jonah’s dark
eyes.

For a moment, she wanted more, to kiss and be kissed, to see
what happened next, to—

“Mom!” Beth Ann’s shout from the café door jerked her back to
earth.

“I have to go.” She nearly ran to the café. This longing was
useless. Why couldn’t she let it go? In some ways, she was as stubborn as
Rosie.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I
WANT
THE
rolls to taste like all
the jelly bean flavors at once,” Beth Ann said. “Like a rainbow.” Cara had told
her what each color meant and they’d agreed to leave out the bad-luck black
jelly beans altogether.

“A rainbow it is,” Cara said. After some discussion, they
decided to use cherries, blueberries, orange and lemon zest, cinnamon, nutmeg,
vanilla, peanuts and cashews. They took turns stirring and adding ingredients.
Cara was relieved to notice that Beth Ann was totally enthralled.

“One final taste before we bake,” Cara said, holding out a dab
on the rubber spatula.

Beth Ann licked it off and savored the morsel, eyebrows dipped
in concentration. “It has all the flavors. I think it’s right.”

“Good. Let’s ball up the rolls, put them in the muffin tin,
then you can add the fortunes.”

As Beth Ann poked jelly beans into the center of each roll, she
said, “I wish we could put in real charms like on my bracelet. A heart for love.
A coin for money. A clover for good luck. But they could break your teeth. Would
plastic ones work?”

“No, but gummy candy would. Like the gummy worms I made for
Halloween. I could make molds from your charms in an ice cube tray.”

“Can we do that?”

“Absolutely. Next time.” And there would be more baking now,
Cara realized. The joy of it rose in her again like bread dough on a sunny
counter. And it was such a pleasure to share it with her daughter.

“This is fun. We invented a food.” Beth Ann looked so happy
that Cara wanted to weep with joy. This was what she wanted for her daughter.
Days full of fun and laughter, no pain, no fear, no sad shadows from the past.
She would make it happen, no matter what.

Cara opened the oven door so Beth Ann could slide the tray
inside.

“But what if they don’t taste as good when they’re baked?” Beth
Ann asked.

“Then we’ll try again.
Practice makes
perfect.
That’s what my grandmother always said. It took me forever
to get pie crust right. It came out tough or soggy or crumbly. But she never
gave up on me.” Her grandmother had praised each tiny improvement, her love as
thick in the air as the smell of pie in the oven afterward.

“That’s what Jonah says,” Beth Ann said. “He says a craft means
you make mistakes, but keep getting better.” She pondered that for a moment.
“Wood doesn’t forgive mistakes. Does dough?”

“Depends on the mistake,” Cara said. “A small one you can
fix—say you forget the nuts. But add too much salt or bake it too long and
you’re done for.”

“Like with Daddy’s muffins,” Beth Ann said in a low voice.

Ice froze Cara’s blood. Had Beth Ann heard the fight? “You
remember that?” she said warily.

“I saw them in the trash. My bowl, too. It got broke.”

“It did. By accident,” she said, relieved that Beth Ann didn’t
know more. It was a sobering thought that stayed with Cara as they cleaned up
the kitchen and waited for the rolls to bake. Beth Ann seemed quieter, too.
Would they ever get past the bad memories?

The rolls turned out perfectly, round and golden-brown. Cara
tipped them onto a plate. Beth Ann tore open one and took a bite. “Mmm.” Her
eyes widened. “It’s even better than the batter. It tastes just like a
rainbow.”

Cara took part of Beth Ann’s to taste. It was tangy, sweet and
nutty. “Yum.”

“Here’s Rosie’s. Let’s put it on top.” They’d marked it with
three blueberries.

Upstairs, Beth Ann fetched a grumpy Rosie from her bedroom.

“Good God, what’s all this fuss over a roll?” Rosie
groused.

Beth Ann held out the marked one. “It tells your fortune!”

“My what?”

“With jelly beans. Each color means something. You’ll win money
or fall in love or get lucky. We invented it.”

“My grandmother used to bake them when she had a decision to
make or a worry.” Cara gave Rosie a pointed look. “She called them good-luck
buns.”

“See what you got, Rosie,” Beth Ann said. “Here, Mom.” She
handed Cara a roll and took one for herself. “Ready, set, open.”

They pulled their rolls apart, filling the air with the smell
of spice, citrus and cherry. Cara’s jelly bean was yellow—
you’ll come into money.
If only that were true. Money would solve
most of her problems.

Rosie’s, of course, was green. But so was Beth Ann’s.

“We
both
got green for good luck,”
Beth Ann said, eyes wide in surprise. “So we get double luck!”

“Yeah?” A smile flickered, then faded on Rosie’s face.

“Taste it,” Beth Ann said.

Rosie took a bite.

“Plus, now you don’t have to be scared of the doctor.”

Rosie stopped midchew. “Excuse me?”

“Because of the good luck you just got.”

“You heard us talking?” Cara said, staring at her daughter.

“You were loud.” Beth Ann shrugged. “Rosie made a deal to go to
the doctor if we stayed longer.”

At least Beth Ann didn’t seem to know about today’s
appointment.

“When I had to get stitches,” Beth Ann said to Rosie, “I was
scared, too. I took Bunny with me so I wouldn’t cry and I didn’t.”

Her daughter still clutched Bunny to keep from crying.

“That’s good advice, don’t you think?” Cara said, fighting
emotions—sadness for her daughter and pride in her, too, for trying to help
Rosie.

“You could bring that picture of Eddie on your nightstand,”
Beth Ann continued. “Anytime you get scared, just look at it.”

Rosie seemed too stunned to speak.

“Don’t you like the roll?” Beth Ann asked.

Rosie lifted it to her mouth, then set it down again, turning
to Cara. “If I do this,” she said slowly, “you have to stay until I…” She
cleared her throat and looked away. “Until it’s over.”

Did she really think the surgery would kill her? Poor Rosie.
Cara wanted so much to ease her worry, but the woman was a brick wall.

Except she’d crumbled just now. For Beth Ann. The two shared a
similar bond to the one Cara had had with her grandmother.

“Can we stay?” Beth Ann asked, her eyes as big as Christmas
morning. “For Rosie? Please.”

How long would that require? A month maybe? And what about
after? If the tumor were cancer, Rosie would be so scared. She would need all
the support she could get. “We have commitments,” she said faintly. “And then
there will be school for you.”

“Can we stay until school starts? Please? Please?”

Cara was startled by how much Beth Ann wanted this. She looked
at Rosie. In her stubborn, gruff way, Rosie was pleading with her, too.

She blew out a breath, giving in. “If my job and the apartment
will wait…”

“Yay! I get to stay!” Beth Ann jumped up and down. “We both got
good luck, Rosie!
Double
good luck.”

Rosie had gone slack with relief. “The rest of the deal’s still
on,” Rosie said. “Jonah is not to know.”

“You’re kidding,” Cara said.

“Not one word. And that goes for you, too, young lady.” Rosie
turned her attention to Beth Ann. “This whole talk we just had is top, top
secret. Got that?”

“I do. Pinky swear.” Beth Ann crooked a little finger for Cara
and Rosie to grip.

“Pinky swear,” they all said together.

Rosie picked the jelly bean out of her bun and looked at it.
“Good luck from a jelly bean. What are you two doing to me?”

Anything we can to help.
Cara had
her doubts about staying, but the fact that Rosie needed her meant a lot. Cara
had a place here, a role to play, a job to do. All her life, she’d longed for
that feeling.

That was why she’d wanted college in the first place. But
Barrett had crushed that dream and nearly killed her for daring to have it.
She’d rallied and tried again only to have him return and send her running for
her life.

Cara would not give up. In the meantime, she would help Rosie
with her health and her café.

She took a bite of her bun. It was really, really good.
Maybe they could sell them in the café.
They would bag
them by the dozen and include a card explaining each fortune. What a great
idea!

Every day she stayed here her confidence grew. The café had
pulled her out of the tailspin of Barrett’s return.
And,
don’t forget Jonah.
Jonah was good for her, too. Cara was glad she’d
be seeing more of him. She couldn’t deny that.

And what about Barrett?
The thought
came again, as it always did when she had a quiet moment. They were safe here.
If they made no calls, stayed off the internet, opened no accounts, they should
be okay, right?

A shiver ran down her spine, so she opened another bun for
luck.

Red.
You’ll fall in love.
Impossible, of course. But her heart turned over in her chest all the
same.

* * *

B
ARRETT
FORCED
A
smile, then took a sip of the foul-tasting powdered iced tea Deborah
had insisted on serving him. She’d made him wait forever while she’d mixed it up
and fixed a tray with a dozen stale, store-bought ginger snaps.

It infuriated him that Cara had chosen to live in this sad
cracker-box of a house, which reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener,
when she and Beth Ann could have lived in luxury at his mother’s. He didn’t dare
think about that very long or his rage would flare. He had to focus on the
future, start fresh, forgive and forget.

Barrett had a few final questions before he could escape the
place. “You must see how painful this is for me, Deborah. All I live for is to
see my wife and little girl again.”

“Oh, I know, and it just breaks my heart.” Deborah snapped up
another cookie. She’d nervously inhaled six already, afraid Barrett might blame
her for Cara’s actions. “My daughter has it in her head that you mean her harm,”
she said. “She can be so
stubborn,
that girl.”

“And you can’t recall any friends Cara mentioned who might know
where they’ve gone?”

“Not really, no.” Deborah gave him a shaky smile and took
another cookie. “She didn’t confide in me. Never has.”

Barrett knew Deborah was a narcissist, totally oblivious to her
daughter or anyone else but herself.

He wanted to sweep the tray and its contents to the floor in
pure frustration, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “And Beth Ann never
received any of my letters, as far as you know?”

“Cara always got the mail.”

And paid most of the bills, he assumed, based on Deborah’s
complaints about her living expenses
these days.

“How about Beth Ann? Did she have friends?”

“She finally made one this year. Serena…Sandoval, I think.
Little Mexican girl. Not much English, but she always put away her dishes and
said please and thank you. They were thick as thieves, those two.”

Barrett perked up. Maybe Beth Ann had told her friend their
plans. “Does she live nearby? Serena?”

“No, no. They’re out in a mobile home park. Desert Sands…Silver
Sands…I don’t recall.”

That was a start, at least. He pulled out the check he’d
prepared to cement Deborah’s loyalty. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done
for my family…and for your faith in me.” He held it out.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said, staring at the dollar
amount, then taking the check. “You’ve always been generous.”

“You’ll call if you hear from her or remember anything
else?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Deborah had always been his advocate.
Couples argue, accidents happen,
had been her take on the incident
that had torn apart his family.

“Was there a memento you wanted from their room?” she
asked.

“No, no. Just seeing where they slept helped me.” He’d asked
for a private moment so he could search for receipts, brochures, business cards,
any clue to where Cara and Beth Ann might have gone or to whom they’d
spoken.

Cara had been careful. Neither one had used Deborah’s desktop
computer. Cara had taken her laptop with her.

“What should I do with the rest of their things?” Deborah
asked.

Burn them. They reek of you and this
hovel.
“I’ll let you know,” he said with feigned sadness.

He drove away, waving as she stood in the driveway. As soon as
he rounded the corner, he pulled to the curb and released his fury in the safety
of his car, bellowing and pounding the steering wheel until he feared he’d
broken a knuckle. Then he called his P.I.

“What’d you get?” Malloy asked right off.

“Not much. Her mother’s an idiot. She had to
look up
their cell phone numbers—both phones are dead,
by the way. She barely recalled the name of Beth Ann’s school, let alone the one
where Cara worked. They left a week ago.”

“That’s when she closed out her checking account.”

“No clues at the house. She left the BMW and took her mother’s
clunker. I’ve got the plate number.”

“I’ll check for tickets. It’s a long shot, but worth
trying.”

“Deborah said the car’s been acting funny,” Barrett added. “If
it breaks down, they’d be stranded. Cara’s only got $500.”

“It’s possible,” Malloy said, but Barrett knew Malloy was
humoring him.

“Or she could have bought plane tickets,” he said gloomily.
“Face it. In a week, they could be anywhere.”

“I’ll pretext her principal with a job-reference inquiry and
see what he knows, tap into her school email, see if I can connect with any
colleagues. Don’t worry. I have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“You’d better at the rate I’m paying you.”

“Worse comes to worst, Cara will have to request school records
in the fall.”

“That’s months away.” He wanted his family
now.
“I’m going to talk to a friend of Beth Ann’s. She’s Mexican,
possibly illegal. That will give me leverage with her parents if I need it.”