Grit: A Love Story on 7th and Main Page 12

  There.

  She was enveloped by him, surrounded by solid strength. She let out a long sigh and kept kissing him. The tension that lived in her back drained away. Her mind quieted.

  There you are.

  She closed her eyes and let go, knowing that he would hold her up. When their lips finally parted, all the cockiness was stripped from his expression, and he was the one who looked shocked.

  “Café Georgette.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “I want to go to Café Georgette this weekend. I love their french onion soup. Let’s go Saturday. I want to dress up, so you better pick me up looking fancy.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Early on Saturday morning, Melissa loaded a sleepy Abby, a crate of vegetables from her mom, and a head full of worries in her truck and pointed it west toward Paso Robles. She coasted down the foothills and across the valley, making the hour-long trek to Kettleman City, where Abby’s grandfather or grandmother would meet her.

  After Calvin died, Melissa had been keenly aware that Abby was Greg and Beverly’s last link to their son. And while she didn’t always get along with her in-laws, she knew they adored her daughter. Melissa might have never felt like family in the Rhodes clan, but Abby was. She would grow up understanding a level of privilege that Melissa didn’t. When she reached the age of thirty, she’d receive a trust fund worth more than Melissa and Joan’s entire ranch was worth.

  How did you raise a levelheaded kid when one side of their family told them they were a cut above the rest of the world by no more virtue than the name they were born with?

  She glanced over at her daughter, watching as Abby slowly roused herself from slumber and rubbed her eyes. She recognized the exact moment when Abby remembered where they were going by the spark of excitement that lit her eyes.

  Abby sat up straighter. “I’m going to see Sunny today.”

  “You sure are.”

  “And I have my first jumping lesson tomorrow.”

  Melissa kept her voice level. “Yes, you do. Now, you realize you’re not going to go jumping over rocks and rivers right away. You remember that, right? There’s an entirely different set of skills you need to—”

  “I remember, Mom.”

  Melissa felt the eye roll even if she didn’t see it.

  Fine, kid. Pretend your mom knows nothing and Antonio the Great knows all.

  From the way Abby spoke about him, Melissa was fairly sure the Spanish riding instructor that Beverly and Greg had hired was not only an expert in jumping and dressage but also walked on water.

  She kept her eyes on the road, bypassing the turnoff for Metlin and cruising under the 99 freeway. She turned up the radio, leaving the music on the easy, rolling rhythm of “Tiger Striped Sky.” On days she took Abby to the coast, Joan opened the booth at the farmers’ market, though Melissa would be able to join her by nine or ten.

  She shoved a fruit smoothie toward Abby, followed by a granola bar and a container of yogurt. Once the preteen lump had been fed, she magically transformed into her usual energetic self.

  “I’ve been doing all the exercises Antonio recommended.” She sat up, nearly wiggling in her seat.

  “That’s good.” She kept her eyes on the road. “Is anyone taking lessons with you? Or is it just you and Grandpa?”

  “Me and Grandpa mostly. Sometimes Grandma.”

  “Does Aunt Audrey ever join you?”

  “Aunt Audrey?” Abby’s brow was furrowed. “Aunt Audrey doesn’t ride.”

  “What?” Melissa’s eyes went wide. “Sweetie, yeah, she does. She was a competitive jumper in high school. Your dad even thought she might make it to the Olympics; she was that good.”

  “Really?” Abby sat up straighter. “Why didn’t she?”

  “She took a fall and injured her knee. Had to have surgery to put it back together. After that, she couldn’t really compete anymore. She never told you about that?”

  Abby shook her head. “Nope. Not even a little.”

  “That’s too bad.” Melissa glanced at Abby. “I might call her. I had no idea she wasn’t riding at all. I kind of assumed that you got interested in jumping from talking to her.”

  “Nope. I just saw it on TV and thought it looked cool.”

  “Who was watching jumping?” They didn’t watch it at the ranch.

  Abby smiled a little. “Aunt Audrey.”

  “Huh.” That settled it. Melissa was definitely calling Audrey. “You know, even if she can’t ride, she probably would have some great ideas about your lessons. If I can’t be there, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have watching the instructor.”

  “Why can’t you be there?”

  Such an innocent question. Such a complicated response. “You know, kiddo, sometimes Grandma and Grandpa and I have our disagreements. And when you go to visit them—especially for something as exciting as your first jumping lesson—I want it to be about you and them, not me and them. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess so.” She propped a bare foot on the door panel. “I don’t understand why you guys can’t just get along.”

  “I absolutely hate telling you things like ‘you’ll understand when you’re older,’ but I kind of have to in this situation. Sometimes there are people in the world who just don’t see things the same way. And that’s me and your grandparents.”

  “Did you and Dad see things the same way?”

  Melissa smiled a little. “Mostly.”

  “Just mostly?”

  “Well, if we thought about everything the same way, what would we talk about?”

  “I guess that’s true.” Abby crossed her legs on the bench seat, bending in ways that Melissa vaguely remembered being easy when she was ten. “I still wish you’d come and see me when I’m jumping.”

  “I definitely will. When you’re ready for an audience, I’ll be there.”

  “And Grandma Joan?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How about Nana Rumi and Cary and Ox and Emmie? If I win a trophy at a jumping competition, I want everyone to see me.”

  Melissa smiled. “Why don’t you focus on learning how to jump and not on your inevitable competitive glory, okay?”

  Abby put her fist under her chin and leaned on the center console. “I guess.”

  “Okay.” She passed through Hanford. Halfway there. “And when you’re ready for the winner’s circle, I’ll make sure everyone is there.”

  “Good.” The foot on the side panel began to tap. “You know we have a house at the ranch, right?”

  Oh boy. “Yes. I know your grandparents built us a house.”

  “So we could live there if we wanted.”

  Melissa kept a smile plastered to her face. “Did your grandpa tell you that?”

  “Yeah. And Grandma.”

  Lovely. Thanks, Bev. That was professional-level undermining. “Abby, I know your grandparents would love if we lived closer to them, but who would take care of the ranch if we lived on the coast? Who would take care of your goats?”

  “The goats could come with us.”

  Melissa kept her eyes straight ahead. “I know Oakville isn’t as fancy as Paso Robles, but it’s our home. And that’s where we’re going to live, okay?”

  “Okay.” The girl stared out the window as flat rolling fields passed by.

  It was late summer in the valley, and fields that had been green and growing were drying out, nearing harvest time. Wide-leafed cotton and spiky safflower. Dairies and tomato fields. Everything grew in the valley, and currently everything was dusty.

  Ten minutes of silence passed before Abby spoke again. “Uncle Devin and Aunt Audrey are fighting a lot.”

  Oh man. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Fighting is never fun.”

  “Do you think they’re going to get divorced?”

  “Abby, I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. Sometimes people fight. It doesn’t mean they’re go
ing to get divorced.” But it could, and with Devin and Audrey, nothing would surprise Melissa.

  Another ten minutes of silence as Abby contemplated the almond orchards they were driving past.

  “Jessie’s mom and dad got divorced,” her daughter said, “and now she has to sleep on the couch at her dad’s house because she doesn’t have a room there.”

  “That sounds… not great. I’m sorry to hear that.” Melissa wasn’t sure who Jessie was. It seemed like Abby was friends with the entire Oakville Elementary some days. “Is Jessie in your grade?”

  “No, she’s younger than me, but she lives next door to Marta.”

  “Got it.” Marta and Abby had been friends since first grade. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  Melissa took the turnoff for Kettleman. She drove two blocks and pulled over into the parking lot where Greg or Bev would meet them. Then she turned to her daughter. “I think you are a wonderful, empathetic person and Jessie is lucky that you’re thinking about her. She’s probably having a really hard time right now, and older girls who are smart and kind like you and Marta could make a big difference. You could be a good friend for her to have.”

  Abby’s face turned from suspicious to beaming. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “So can you do that? Be thinking about Jessie and make sure she has good friends around her?”

  Her daughter nodded vigorously. “Definitely.”

  “I want you to remember something important.” How to get this across to a ten-year-old? “Sometimes in life things go wrong, and even if we want to, we can’t make them better.” She brushed Abby’s hair back. “Dads die in car accidents. Parents get divorced. Pets die. We can’t do anything to prevent those things. Whether we’re kids or adults.”

  Abby’s brow was creased in worry.

  Melissa continued. “What we can do for the people we love is come around them. Kind of like… You know the wire supports Grandma puts around her tomato plants?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Kind of like that. You and Marta and Jessie’s other friends can be right next to her while she’d growing through this. Keep her branches from drooping. Let her have a safe place to rest and have fun while she’s going through something hard. Does that make sense?”

  Abby’s frown disappeared. “Totally. We can do that.”

  “Awesome.” Melissa saw Greg’s Range Rover pull into the parking lot. “Looks like your grandpa’s here.”

  Abby reached across the cab of the pickup and squeezed Melissa around the neck. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “For what?”

  “For driving me out so I can see Sunny, of course.” Her face was beaming. “I’m gonna tell Grandpa to send you pictures, okay?”

  “Please.” She handed Abby the duffel bag from the back seat. “And what do you say if they try to buy you a cell phone?”

  Abby’s face took on an innocent expression. “Please and thank you?”

  Melissa narrowed her eyes. “Kid.”

  She heaved a great sigh. “‘No, thank you, Grandma. My mom says I have to wait until I’m thirteen.’”

  “That’s right.”

  “Even though I really, really want one.”

  “You got a horse. You can wait on the phone.” Melissa jumped out of the pickup and grabbed the crate of vegetables from the back seat. “You get in the car. I’ve gotta talk to Grandpa.”

  “Okay!”

  She walked over to a smiling Greg Rhodes, who was wearing a perfectly pressed golf shirt with his hair swept back into a silver wave.

  He grinned and bent down to Abby. “Hello, princess.”

  Melissa hated when Greg called Abby princess, but she bit her tongue.

  “Hey, Grandpa!” Abby gave him a quick hug and jumped in the passenger seat of the Range Rover. “Mom wants to talk to you.”

  “Great.” Greg kept his smile in place when he turned to Melissa. “How things going at the ranch?”

  “Good.” She handed him the crate of veggies. “Mom packed some stuff for Bev. The tomatoes are amazing.”

  “Fantastic.” Greg took the crate and gave Melissa a one-armed hug. “So, what’s up?”

  She put her hands in her pockets and assumed the “casual rancher talking shop” pose she’d perfected by watching her grandfather. It always put old men at ease. “You hear anything about this Allen Ranch project over in Paso?”

  Greg frowned. “An Allen ranch in Paso?”

  “No, over by me. I was wondering if you’d heard about it?”

  Greg kept frowning, but something about his expression put Melissa’s instincts on alert. “Can’t say… Ah, you know, I think I’ve heard the name, but not much else.”

  “Huh.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Developer looking to put a few thousand houses on the old Allen ranch next to mine. Like a… fancy retirement-community kind of thing.”

  “Huh.” Greg nodded. “Well, I can see why the town would be interested in that. Big boost to the local economy, right?”

  “It’s not real popular so far. Folks don’t seem too keen on developing open land like that.”

  “That so?” Greg stuck his hands in his pockets, mirroring her stance. “What are you and your mom thinking? That ranch is right next to yours. It’d up your property value by a lot.”

  Melissa shrugged. “More neighbors equals more problems, you know? Isn’t that why you and Bev built out in the hills?”

  “We do like our privacy.” A crack appeared in the facade, and Greg’s smile twisted a little.

  Melissa kept going. “So you haven’t heard of it?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing specific.”

  Liar. She knew it down to her toes. “That’s interesting.” She started to turn and saw Greg’s shoulders relax. “You know—”

  His shoulders tensed.

  She turned back. “The spokesman for the holding company who bought the ranch is named Kevin Fontaine. Isn’t he a friend of Devin’s?”

  Greg looked like he smelled something bad. “I’m not an expert on Devin’s friends, Melissa.”

  “Oh, I was just thinking you could probably ask him about it.” You know all about it, you lying liar. “If you wanted to know more, I mean.”

  “Other than Abby, I’m not too interested in what goes on in Oakville.” His eyes turned calculating. “Now, if you’re asking for a favor—”

  “Nope.” She’d rather die. “I’ll find out the information I need. Just thought it was interesting. Right now Allen Ranch is the talk of the town.”

  “Well, that’s not too difficult.”

  “Right.” Melissa smiled wide. “You guys have a great weekend. Ask Bev to send me pics, okay?”

  Greg nodded. “Melissa.”

  “Greg.”

  She walked back to her truck and started the engine, watching as Abby and Greg pulled away.

  What did Greg know about Allen Ranch? Because one thing was sure.

  He knew exactly what she’d been talking about.

  Melissa stood in front of the mirror in her room, staring at the dress she’d put on and trying not to panic.

  It was too short. Had it always been so short? It wasn’t like she’d grown taller in the six years since Calvin had passed. When had she bought this thing? It couldn’t be that old. Had it shrunk? It fit everywhere else, it just seemed way too short.

  “Melissa?” her mother called from the kitchen. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

  “I’m going out, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Joan sounded overly cheerful. “Who with?”

  Melissa sighed. “A friend, Mom.”

  That was true. Cary was a friend. A friend she kissed and regularly fought with, but definitely a friend.

  “Okay.”

  The lack of more questions told Melissa that Joan knew exactly what she was doing. It was probable that Cary had told Rumi they were going on a date, and Rumi would have immediately told Joan.

  Meliss
a tugged on the hem of the dress. No good. It was hopelessly short, and there was nothing more to be done. If she stayed in her room any longer, she’d change back into her work clothes and call the whole thing off. And she wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t a chicken.

  She walked to the door and turned the knob before she paused.

  Cluck, cluck, Melissa.

  She opened the door and walked to the bathroom. Then she proceeded to do something she rarely did. She put on makeup. Not a lot, but enough to make it obvious.

  This is a date.

  I am dressing up.

  I will be kissing you at the end of the night.

  Maybe more?

  She paused while applying blush.

  More?

  She’d… leave the door open for more.

  Wait, was she ready for more? The idea of “more” with Cary Nakamura sent a shiver over her entire body, but when she started to think about details, she panicked.

  This was so nerve-racking! Dating in college hadn’t been this nerve-racking, had it?

  You were a different person then.

  In college, Melissa had been wildly confident. She knew she was a pretty girl and she used it. She dated who she wanted. She hung out wherever she wanted, whether that was a club, the library, or a frat house. She was the designated driver. The friendly, smart girl. The one who could hang with anyone. Where had that girl gone? She’d been so much braver when she was clueless about life.

  She finished a sweep of plum over her eyelids that made her blue eyes vivid. Then she put on a coat of mascara and zipped a lip balm into her purse. She tugged the seam of her dress one more time before she walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

  Joan closed the cupboard door and turned when she saw Melissa. Her mother’s smile lit up her entire face. “You look beautiful.”

  Melissa tugged the hem of her dress. “Are you sure? This dress seems too short. I think it shrank.”

  “It didn’t. You just got self-conscious about your knees.”

  “My knees?” How did her mother know she hated her knees? “Seriously, it shrank.”

  “Nope.” Joan walked over to her and took her by the shoulders, pointing her toward the door. “Do you dislike the dress for any reason other than it feels too short?”