Hot Buttered Yum (6 page)

At five o’clock that evening, Roni stood twenty feet from the shoreline behind her house,
her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her faded blue-gray capris, her feet
bare. She stared out at the water, barely seeing more than the mix of the late-afternoon
colors and the gray of the ocean. Soon she’d have to return to her house and
dress for that night’s event. She didn’t want to be late.

But not yet.

First she needed
a few more minutes to herself.

So many things
had been on her mind that day. Playing the piano at the convention center.
Enjoying
playing the piano at the
convention center. Enjoying the hushed awareness of the crowd before the
eruption of applause.

She pinched her
lips together.

Watching Lucas after
she’d played.

She pulled cool
air in through her nose and closed her eyes as her mind raced through the other
memory that had been eating at her that day. Going to the children’s hospital
for the last time. She didn’t like knowing she was still so raw from that.

Her hair whipped
in the wind and she lifted both arms, digging her fingers into the curls on either
side. She held there like that. Arms up, elbows out, hair
back off her forehead. And turned her face up to the deepening blues and
purples of the sky. She often thought of letting her hair grow back out, but it
was too much here on the beach. At the length it was, it was manageable. Her
life was manageable. Best to keep it short.

“That was quite
the performance this morning.”

Roni dropped her
arms to her sides and looked back and to her right. Mrs. Rylander
was making her way across the beach, wearing a chunky turtleneck, wool pants,
and green rubber boots up to her knees. Her curly white hair was held in place
by a sheer yellow scarf, tied securely at the loose skin of her neck. Clearly her
neighbor didn’t appreciate the crispness of the December breeze like Roni did.

“Did you stand
below my deck listening to me play again this morning?” Roni
asked. About six months ago, she’d realized that the former owner of her house often
snuck over in the mornings and listened to her play. Now Roni
watched for her to head back across the yard when she finished each day.

Rarely did Mrs. Rylander acknowledge she was there. Nor did Roni let her know when she saw her. It was kind of their
“thing.”

“I’m not talking
about at your house,” the older lady harrumphed, as if the mere suggestion that
she listened in on Roni’s practice sessions was
ludicrous. “I mean at the Hunky Santa thing. It was different than what you do
at the house. A different feel to it.”

Yep. It had
been.

“I didn’t
realize you were in the crowd.” Best to avoid topics one didn’t want to discuss.

Being so short
left Roni at about the same height as her neighbor,
so she got the full impact of a sharp, are-you-kidding-me look as the woman
made it to her side. “There’s twenty-four men walking around this island,
reminding me of when my Henry was young. Henry could have competed right along with
those boys, you know?” She shook her head. “No chance I’m missing any part of
that.”

Roni laughed softly
at the thought of Mrs. Rylander in line, buying up
tickets to every event. Also, she’d seen pictures of Mrs. Rylander’s
late husband in his older years. The man’s nose and ears had dominated the
photographs. She’d just have to take her word on whether or not he could have
stood a chance beside the likes of Lucas and the other twenty-three in his
early days.

“And don’t be
changing the subject on me,” Mrs. Rylander added.

A wave broke and
landed within feet of Roni, the foam reaching out in
slow motion until it almost touched her toes. She turned toward the dunes. She should
get ready for the upcoming evening anyway. Mrs. Rylander
trudged along beside her, not picking up her feet as she shuffled, scooping
handfuls of sand up with each forward movement. Most of the sand bounced off the
back of Roni’s calves.

“I’m not
changing subjects,” Roni began. She studied her house
instead of looking at her neighbor. “I just don’t know what to say. I agree.
There was something different.”

This wasn’t the
first conversation they’d had on the beach. It had become another of their
“things.” When Roni had something on her mind, she
often found herself standing on the beach. More often than not, her neighbor
joined her.

Roni hadn’t thought
she’d done it intentionally, but thinking about it now, she wondered if maybe she
did. The woman had seen eight decades of living. Surely she had some knowledge
to impart. Maybe Roni had subconsciously been hoping
to pick up a tidbit here or there.

“You know what
it was, don’t you?” Mrs. Rylander asked. Her
breathing had grown short and rapid so Roni slowed
her pace. She took in her neighbor from the corner of her eye but didn’t say
anything. Just kept walking.

“It was desire.”

Roni jolted to a
stop.

“Desire?” She
echoed. She eyed her neighbor. Had Mrs. Rylander somehow
picked up on her attraction to Lucas?

“Oh, good
grief.” The elderly woman waved a hand in the air, her mouth puckered, and the
corners of her light-blue eyes wrinkled as if disgusted. “You young people
today, that’s all you think about. Though I could tell you a story or two about
desire. Why, in my time—”

“Mrs. Rylander,” Roni warned. She did
not want to hear about Henry or his conquests.

“I’m not talking
about
that
kind of desire,” Mrs. Rylander grumbled. “But I suspect there’s some of that
going on too.”

Only every time
she got a glimpse of a certain contestant. “Then what are you talking—”

“I mean the desire
to be there. In front of the crowd. You weren’t just
playing this morning. You were somewhere else. You wanted to
be
somewhere else.”

Roni remained
immobile in the sand. She was only a few feet from the walk that would take her
up under her deck and away from this conversation, but she felt like she’d been
dropped out in the middle of the ocean. Her chest burned as if she were being
held under the water, unable to breathe. She didn’t have the desire to be in
front of that kind of crowd again. Not really. She’d given that up. It had been
her choice.

And she hadn’t
been anywhere else but the convention center that morning.

But she had been
thinking of someone else.

A different pair
of light-blue eyes appeared in her mind, ones that weren’t eighty years old,
and she squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I
don’t. I love living here. I love what I do.”

“Playing at that
bar?”

“I teach piano
too.” She opened her eyes and shoved the past back where it belonged. “And I
volunteer. I even help Ginger out on the boats on occasion.” Ginger had
inherited her Daddy’s ferry business when he’d died suddenly, and since coming
back home from college, she’d added fishing and tour boats, as well as dinner
cruises.

“You piddle to
keep busy,” Mrs. Rylander accused. “Because you’re
afraid to look at what you gave up.”

She glared at
her neighbor now. They’d never had a discussion of this kind before. In fact,
they’d never talked about her piano career at all. “You have no idea what
you’re talking about.”

“I know what
it’s like to lose something you love,” the elder woman said. She stuck her nose
proudly in the air. “Sometimes you have control over it, and sometimes you
don’t.”

Most times you
don’t.

“Don’t you think
you’ve been hiding long enough?” Mrs. Rylander said in
a rush, her words ending in a near whisper.

Roni stared at her.
She tried to force herself to look away, but she couldn’t. The blue eyes, faded
with her years, were watery now, and her chin trembled just the slightest
amount. The sadness looking back at her suddenly reminded Roni
of the stories she’d heard about why the woman had sold her house and moved next
door to the smaller one.

Her kids
wouldn’t visit her here.

She’d had six
kids with her Henry—but if Roni remembered correctly,
had lost one when he’d been a teen. And not a single one of the remaining five visited
her.

It was sad.

“Mrs. Rylander,” Roni started. She
reached out and put a hand on the other woman’s frail shoulder. “Are you okay?”

That chin inched
up higher. “I’m perfectly fine, dear. I’m always fine.”

Why did it sound
like she’d said those words before?

“Can I do
something?” Roni asked.

The glassiness
from her neighbor’s eyes cleared and the shrewdness returned. “You mean other
than admit you made a mistake?”

Roni clenched her
teeth together. “I did not make a mistake.”

“Decisions like
yours don’t lead to daily three-hour sessions at the piano.”

“I still like
playing the piano.”

“Obviously.”

A sigh slipped
out, though Roni had been trying hard to hold it in.
This had been a rough day already. She didn’t need her neighbor being difficult
on top of it.

“I’m going in
now, Mrs. Rylander. I assume you can get yourself
back to your place?”

As in, go away.
Leave me alone. Don’t say another word.

But Mrs. Rylander either didn’t read the underlying message, or she
didn’t care.

Instead of
heading back to her place, she plopped her hands on her hips and scrunched up
her face. “And just for the record, I saw the way that boy looked at you. As well
as the way you looked at him.”

“Again. I have
no idea—”

“Desire,” she bit
out. “That other kind. Contestant number seven.”

Roni started to
shake her head in denial, but Mrs. Rylander held up a
single bony finger. Roni
ceased movement.

“You can lie to
yourself all you want. You can lie to me. But your face doesn’t lie.” Mrs. Rylander softened her voice. “And your heart doesn’t lie.
Listen to it.”

Lucas lined up with Melody Monday night as
they waited to be given the go-ahead to head on stage. Melody was a sweetheart.
In her late fifties, and so excited to have been selected to
help with the first challenge of the competition. She’d ridden down with
a group of friends from Savannah.

She’d also been
a shameless flirt. But an innocent one.

They’d had a
really good time throughout the afternoon. First they’d checked out their tree
really good time throughout the afternoon. First they’d checked out their tree
and box of decorations, and then they’d grabbed a meal and used the time to
formulate a plan. He stunk at putting lights up. He’d certainly heard that
enough over the last few years. But Melody had sworn she knew what she was
doing. She’d done the job each year during her thirty-five-year marriage.

Since her
husband had passed away two years earlier, she’d let the grandkids handle the
decorating, so she’d taken today’s opportunity to heart. She’d wanted the
chance to see what she could do again.

Lucas had lucked
out. This woman could have whipped a Charlie Brown tree into shape. They’d both
ended up proud of the job they’d done. He’d seen plenty of admirers, too, as he
and Melody had stood by their decked-out tree during the judging process.

Many people had
oohed and aahed over their creation.

Who he hadn’t
seen, oohing and aahing or otherwise, was Roni. She’d been suspiciously absent since the curtain had
closed on her solo that morning.

He pictured her
as she’d been at the piano and felt the power of what he’d witnessed. If he
hadn’t seen it himself only a short time beforehand, he would have never
believed she’d been racked with fear. Her talent hadn’t slipped one bit in her
absence.

He’d gotten lost
in the sound as she’d played her solo, and had forgotten there were more than
the two of them in the room together. He’d watched her. And he’d wanted to go
to her.

“There she is,”
Melody whispered beside him. She slipped her arm through his and squeezed.

He followed her
gaze, but knew who she was talking about without asking.

Roni was coming from
the back and heading to the stage. She very carefully was not looking around as
she walked.

She wore another
dress tonight, this one silver and more formal. It hit her at the ankle on one
side and was pulled up to mid-shin on the other. There was a thin line of
sequins running in a path down to the bunched material at her shin, then edging
the bottom of the dress all the way around. It wasn’t overly flashy, but spoke
of class and style. It was perfect for her.

As was her hair.
The short black tresses had once again taken on a life of their own.

“She’s
beautiful,” Melody said in slight awe. At least he wasn’t the only one being
blown away.

Melody had
explained earlier that she’d been a private piano teacher in Savannah until
she’d retired. She’d followed Roni’s career for
years. When Melody hadn’t been talking about her deceased husband throughout
the day—or flirting with Lucas as if she were thirty years younger—she’d been
talking about Roni. The woman was definitely a fan.

Roni was the reason
Melody’s friends had been able to convince her to come down with them. Until
they’d brought Roni up, Melody hadn’t realized she
lived so close by.

“We came in
Saturday,” she told him now. “And went to the bar where she plays.”

“She plays at a
bar?” he hadn’t realized that. At least she hadn’t completely walked away from
it.

Melody nodded.
“A cute little place called Gin’s. It’s about a quarter mile up the beach.
She’s apparently been there since she moved here, both as hostess and playing
the piano. But it’s not the same as what we saw this morning. At the bar, she
eggs on the crowd to get them going. She’s more just having a good time. This
morning …” Melody paused and closed her eyes as if reliving the moment.
“This morning she breathed the music into her lungs,” she whispered.