Chaos at Coconuts Page 7

  “Wait a minute.” Hope turned toward her friends. “We got sidetracked. You were telling me about your fairytale lives that are apparently not so fairytale-ish. Ready to tell me more? Make me feel better about my boring life?”

  “Nah, this is much more interesting,” Alex said.

  “I agree.” Suzy glanced at her watch. “I’ll text Ken and tell him dinner will be a little late. Let’s people watch. There’s a new girl in town.”

  Chapter 20

  After the women gawked for several more minutes, Lt. Tony Montgomery appeared at their table. He leaned over and kissed Alex’s cheek from behind. “Hi, beautiful. Hi, ladies. Alex, did you forget we were going to catch a movie tonight?” Tony stood behind her chair as he rubbed her shoulders.

  Alex inhaled his fresh, clean scent and peered up at her boyfriend. “Sorry. We got a little sidetracked. Guess I forgot about the movie.”

  Tony scanned the room. “Who’s the new chick?”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Gee, that didn’t take long.”

  “Well, I am a cop. I’m trained to be observant. Just doing my job.” He winkled.

  Suzy piped up. “We are ninety-nine percent positive that’s Cheri Van Buren, a wealthy New Yorker who is also a celebrity chef. We’re trying to figure out why she’s here.” Suzy paused, then brightened. “Maybe you can run a background check on her.”

  “Nice try,” Tony said.

  Alex stared at the empty chair at the woman’s table. “Her driver was with her.” Alex scanned Coconuts. “I don’t see him.”

  “He’s hot,” Hope added.

  Tony raised one eyebrow. “Is that right?” He took Alex’s hand. “Ready to go?”

  Alex fished out a twenty to pay for her two drinks, plus a tip for Gus, and elbowed Tony. “Popcorn and a movie are on you.”

  “Already planned on it,” he said.

  Grabbing her purse, Alex hopped off her bar stool but Tony stood feet planted and glared.

  Alex followed his gaze to the limo driver who had sauntered from the bar toward the woman’s table.

  Tony scowled. “Look at that. Tough guy thinks he’s really something with those dark sunglasses. Big fucking deal.” The cop cupped his mouth and yelled in the driver’s direction. “Hey, jackoff? You’re inside.”

  Alex grasped Tony’s arm. “Stop it. What’s your problem? He’ll hear you.”

  Tony’s jaw clenched. “Think I care if he hears me? Who does he think he is? Brad fucking Pitt? Or some Secret Service guy? Give me a break. He’s just a bozo limo driver for a spoiled rich kid. I repeat. Big fucking deal.”

  Alex blew out her breath. “Why are you letting him get under your skin?”

  “He’s not under my skin. Nobody gets under my skin.” Tony studied his girlfriend. “Why are you staring at him?”

  Alex chuckled. “Because you are.”

  Tony seemed to get the message and cooled down. He put his arm across Alex’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Suzy waved Gus over and paid her bill. “I need to leave too. Ken must be starving.”

  “This was an eventful evening.” Hope glanced at the elegant stranger one last time. “I sure hope this isn’t the last time we see her.”

  Alex stole another glance as the threesome left with Tony. “I don’t think it will be.” She winked at Suzy and Hope. “Remember my prediction?”

  Chapter 21

  As Hope climbed into her drab Honda to drive home, she pictured Cheri’s perfect face, gorgeous, fit body, and designer clothes. She couldn’t fathom her status and wealth. Not to mention the fact that she apparently had her own company at the ripe old age of, what, twenty-something? I’m not the envious type but damn. Why can’t I have just one of those things?

  She tried to keep the waterworks at bay but a flood of tears streamed down her face as she pulled into her driveway. She angrily wiped them away. What’s wrong with you? You’re overweight, your hair is crappy, and you don’t have a life outside of school and Coconuts. Her chest heaved as she sobbed. Slamming her fist on the steering wheel, she immediately felt ashamed.

  As Hope locked her car, she lectured herself. Stop being a crybaby. You have your health, two amazing best friends, a great job, and wonderful students. Blowing out her breath, she said aloud to the garage, “Still, I wish something, anything exciting would happen in my life.”

  As she padded into her bedroom, she remembered Alex’s prophecy as she climbed under the covers. Maybe I should be careful what I ask for. It could be good—or not. She shivered.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next morning, Hope crossed another day off the calendar as she counted down the last few weeks of school. Soon an entire summer lay before her. As usual, she didn’t have any plans except to meet her girlfriends at Coconuts. Still, she was ready to sleep in, read books, watch movies, and enjoy a blissful summer vacation away from her counseling duties. Maybe she’d even start exercising. She chuckled. Or not.

  Drumming her fingers on her desk, she waited for Britney, her favorite student, to arrive. Hope knew she shouldn’t have favorites but she did. She especially related to Britney since she had a neglectful mother, much like her late hippie parents. She stared up at the ceiling tiles. May they rest in peace.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears as she reflected about Larry and Montana. Most days, she could bear the pain. Other days, the memories overcame her. After they were killed in a train wreck, Hope had clung to the few remaining possessions they left behind including a lime green macramé plant holder Montana, her late mother, had made before the accident. It hung in the corner of her office. Hope touched it lovingly every day.

  “I hope you and Dad are together.” Tears pricked her eyes. The only good thing that came out of the tragedy was discovering she had a biological father, Paul. A busy attorney, Paul had given Hope up for adoption after his wife—her biological mother—had died shortly after giving birth. He later told Hope he had been overwhelmed and didn’t know how to care for a newborn.

  She discovered her hippie parents had worked for Paul. Often, Hope’s conflicts with the late Larry and Montana were due to money and the fact they rarely worked. Hope wished she could take back the horrible argument she had had with them prior to their fatal accident. Alex and Suzy had often harped about how they took advantage of Hope and had insisted she show them tough love. She did, and they were killed. Guilt still overcame her.

  Another tear snaked down her cheek. She dabbed it with a tissue. Pull yourself together before students arrive.

  Lost in thoughts, Hope realized she hadn’t yet flipped on the light. Her drab, gray office was becoming darker by the second. She glanced out the window as raindrops pelted the glass. Thunder boomed in the distance. This would be a perfect day to stretch out on the couch with a good book. She sighed. Someday I’ll retire.

  Then she laughed out loud. Who am I kidding? I’m decades away from retiring. Hope peered out the pane as the storm became more active. Students parked their cars and rushed inside Hilltop. She could always predict the kids who would run late. A few had umbrellas but most either dashed toward the front door or held books over their heads, obviously to keep from getting drenched.

  As she studied the darkening sky, the nicely landscaped campus caught her eye. She hoped the heavy rain wouldn’t knock blooms off a Dogwood tree teeming with hundreds of white floral flowers. Near it, was an equally showy Redbud—its limbs covered in magenta blooms. Both trees were overshadowed by a towering Bradford Pear bursting with tiny white buds. It was as if the three trees were sparring in a prettiest tree competition.

  While Hope admired nature’s beauty, the wind picked up, students’ papers flew in the air, and tree branches swayed. Hope jumped as one large branch broke off, nearly hitting a student’s car. Soon blooms from the Dogwood and white Bradford Pear li
ttered the ground like snow.

  She glanced at the clock. The weather had changed drastically within minutes. The sky had turned dark and menacing as sheets of rain literally turned sideways, assailing the windows. A few remaining female students screeched as they ran inside the building. Some slipped on the wet grass and fell. Others held jackets over their heads in an attempt to stay dry.

  Hope touched her own frizzy hair thinking about how ridiculous it looked when she got caught in the rain. Her messy hair was bad enough on a beautiful, dry day. She continued gawking out the window and willing the students inside as the early morning storm unfolded. Her office door slammed shut and she jumped.

  “Sorry I’m late, Miss Truman. It’s awful outside.” Britney plopped in a chair and spread several soaked papers across Hope’s desk. “Is this okay? I need to dry my homework.”

  “Sure. That’s fine. Glad you’re okay.”

  Britney was wide-eyed. Her clothes and hair were drenched. “That storm came out of nowhere. I barely made it inside before I got drenched. In the hallway, my books slid right out of my hands and my homework flew everywhere. That new janitor helped me pick up my papers. He’s cool.” Britney eyed her beloved counselor, obviously for a reaction.

  Hope sharpened a pencil. “I didn’t know we had a new janitor. That was nice of him to help you. Listen, I’ve got a busy day ahead. Ready to get started on your college applications?” Hope patted a tall stack of papers at the edge of her now-wet and massively cluttered desk.

  Britney nodded then took her backpack off and set it on the floor with a thud.

  Hope’s eyes bulged. “What’s in there? A baby elephant?”

  Britney laughed. “Miss Truman, I have to carry all of my books in my bag. It’s breaking my back.”

  “Why don’t you just carry the morning books and switch them at lunch?”

  “No time. You know we only have twenty-five minutes to eat, which includes getting to the cafeteria. Besides, my locker is in the basement and my class after lunch is on the third floor. I’d never make it before the bell.” She pushed her wet hair behind her ears. “I’ll just have to deal.”

  The student leaned over and plucked a pen out of a holder. “I can’t wait to go to college, any college. I hope one of them accepts me.” Britney rolled her eyes. “I want to be on my own and away from my mother.”

  Hope frowned. “Is she still dating a lot of different men?”

  “What do you think?” Britney chewed on the end of her hair. “The application, Miss Truman?”

  Hope pushed her nameplate out of the way and moved Britney’s wet papers to a tiny side table. She wiped off her damp desk with a tissue and splayed several typewritten pages in front of her student. “Here are applications to five nearby colleges. Three are community colleges. Go ahead and get started. I’ll help you when I return. This will take a while.”

  Hope stood. “While you fill these out, I’m going to get some of Hilltop’s famous, disgusting coffee.”

  Britney frowned as she thumbed through the numerous sheets of pages. “This is a lot of work, Miss Truman. I’m gonna need help.”

  “I’ll help you, but remember, you’ll be on your own in college. Do the best you can.” Hope patted her student’s shoulder.

  Britney studied the applications front and back. As the student wrote her name at the top, Hope noticed Britney’s handwriting swayed left instead of right.

  Grinning, Britney said, “I’ll complete the easy sections first like my name, address, birthdate, years at Hilltop High School, my hobbies, and other stuff they always ask.”

  “Good plan. Take your time. This is important. It’s your future. Just fill out one page at a time.”

  Britney groaned. “No pressure, Miss Truman.”

  “You’ve got this, Brit. Be right back.”

  Chapter 22

  Still tired from her splashy first night at Coconuts, Cheri yawned. I’m glad we didn’t stay any later last night. I’d be shot today.

  She padded through the kitchen, made hot tea, and sat at the dining room table overlooking Crystal Lake. Staring robotically at her computer screen, she knew she should be experimenting with new veal, veggie, and salmon recipes for the Manhattan Chamber’s upcoming gala but she couldn’t tear herself away from online dating sites. There has to be a decent guy out there.

  Soon she gave up, logged off, and gathered her well-worn cookbooks. As a chef, she could throw ingredients together without a recipe but often found inspiration from other cooks. She piled her three favorite cookbooks on the kitchen counter as the phone rang.

  “Hello, darling. It’s Mom and Dad.” Victoria spoke in her usual singsong voice. “We’re in Nice, France. It’s beautiful here. The weather, beaches, and food are fabulous, as always. You should join us, honey. Want me to send the plane?”

  Cheri could picture her mother sitting on the balcony, sipping an afternoon martini, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Her tanned, toned legs would be outstretched and a book would be nearby in case a photographer captured the moment. Usually, the books were rarely opened. “How long will you be in Europe?”

  We may fly back to Italy from here. It’s been ages since I’ve been to Florence and you know that’s my favorite city in the world. Oh, and Milan is calling me.”

  Cheri realized she half-listened to her mom most days. Is it any wonder why I troll for dates? I want companionship. She snapped back to the present. “Yes, Mom, I know how much you love Florence. You’ve been there enough times. Have a wonderful visit. Eat some gelato for me.” Cheri glanced at her cookbooks, already antsy and ready to hang up.

  “Your father wants to speak to you.”

  Cheri waited until she heard his comforting voice.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Thomas said. “How’s the sale of grandma’s house going?”

  Slightly afraid to tell them her decision, Cheri braced for their reaction. “I’ve only been here a little over a week. I’ve been organizing Nana’s things and getting to know the neighborhood. I adore the wooded area and Crystal Lake is breathtaking.” She paused. “This may shock you but I’ve decided to keep the house. I can’t give it up. Don’t worry. I’ll buy it with my own money. After helping Grandma renovate it from New York, plus all of my childhood memories, I can’t sell her home. I hope you don’t mind.”

  After a long pause, her father said, “Are you sure? I don’t know about the real estate market in Missouri. It might be hard to flip.”

  Her mother’s inflection changed, barely hiding her disappointment. “Whatever is interesting about Branson or Crystal City? Aren’t they terribly small, boring cities?”

  Cheri could almost feel her mother’s frown. “It’s definitely not Manhattan but I like it—a lot. A big plus is the fact I only had to deal with paparazzi when Gage drove me to a popular restaurant in Crystal City. Somehow the photographers got word I was in town. With cell phones, everyone thinks they’re a freaking I-reporter. But after that unfortunate episode, the cameras disappeared. I feel like I can breathe again.”

  “I just don a big hat, sunglasses, and crappy clothes if I decide to wander around,” Victoria said.

  “I’d rather be myself,” Cheri added.

  “Are you happy?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes, very.”

  “Then buy it. Maybe you can even set up a satellite business for Fifth Avenue Catering.”

  “I already thought of that, Dad. Thanks for your support.”

  “Whenever you can break free, please join us abroad,” Victoria said. “You could even bring friends. Our plane will seat ten and it takes the same amount of fuel for one as for ten passengers.” Her mother laughed. “We miss you, darling.”

  “Maybe next year I can think about a trip. I’ve got too much going on now. Sorry to cut you off but I’ve got to get some work
done. Send me a postcard. You have Grandma’s address. Love you both.”

  After exchanging good-byes, Cheri poured a glass of water and added sliced oranges. Relieved her parents approved of her buying the house, she stepped onto the deck for fresh air.

  Small fishing boats dotted the lake. The wind had picked up and white caps now formed on the water. As the sky darkened and threatened rain, Cheri returned to the kitchen to make hot green tea and read her favorite cookbooks. She placed sticky notes on several recipes, which she inevitably tweaked, and made notes in her iPad for new appetizers, entrees, side dishes, and desserts.

  Growing up in fashion-conscious New York, she had always eaten nutritious food and exercised. Instead of all-you-can-eat buffets, her catering menus included delicious, colorful, healthy meals. Her goal was to do her part for bulging waistlines. Maybe I’ll create a healthy cookbook someday.

  Chapter 23

  Hope left Britney in her office and shuffled toward the teachers’ lounge in search of much-needed coffee. Most students were already in class but a few lingered around a skinny, long-haired man leaning against a mop. From the back, Hope could see he was bone thin and appeared as if he held his frail body upright by the mop handle.

  The students seemed enthralled by whatever the man was saying. He waved his arms as he talked. A couple of uniformed football players sauntered past, gave him the universal two-fingered peace sign, and he returned the gesture. Hope smiled. We have a hippie janitor.

  She craned her neck but couldn’t see the man’s face. She was happy to see him engaging the students since Hilltop’s former, all-business and no-talk janitor had never interacted with the kids. Instead, he acted as though he hated his job and finished at warp speed each day. Hope observed his animated motions from behind as more students gathered around. This custodian appeared to be a refreshing change. She watched as the new art teacher, Willow, approached him and touched his arm in a familiar manner. Interesting.