Solomon's Oak (11 page)

Glory told her about the gunman.

“Now that sounds promising. Was he tall, dark, and handsome? Brown eyes or blue?”

“Just a regular-looking guy, maybe forty, and I think Latino. His eyes could have been brown. I wasn’t really paying attention, Lorna. I was trying to run a reception.”

“Well, wake up.” Lorna gave Glory a smack on her arm with the order pad. “How about his voice? I bet it was that rumbly kind of bass that hits you right in the—”

“Lorna, we probably exchanged ten words. The most attractive part of this guy was that he had a camera and he knew how to use it.”

She chuckled. “That sounds a little naughty.”

“To a person with a dirty mind, maybe.”

“Guilty as charged,” Lorna said. “I may be old, but even old ladies have fantasies.”

“Too much information.”

“Relax, I’m not going to tell you about my sex life. Though it is—how is it the kids say it? Smoking hot?”

“Lorna!”

“Relax, Glo. Now, did he have on a wedding ring?”

“No, he didn’t. He was just a nice guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time—for me, due to his camera. I’m sure I’ll never see him again.”

Lorna reached into her pocket for her cigarettes. “Never say never. Life just loves to surprise the heck out of you. So what’s up with Queenie?”

Every time Lorna invoked her nickname for Halle, Glory pictured her sister lying on a red velvet fainting couch ringing a bell to summon a maid. “The same old same old. Actually, I’m keeping a secret from her, and since it’s almost Christmas, I have to tell her pretty soon.”

Lorna exhaled blue smoke. “Now you’re talking. Tell me all about this secret and I’ll help you come up with the perfect plan. Say, I could go for a piece of leftover pumpkin pie. How about you?”

“I’m craving your maple doughnuts.”

“Juan!” Lorna hollered. “A couple Vermont life preservers, pronto! One cup of blond sand for our girl here, and refill my cup while you’re at it.”

Glory had long ago given up learning Lorna and Juan’s private language. “I thought your doctor put you on the diabetes diet.”

“Maple comes from a tree, dearie. That makes it a vegetable in my book. Plus I make the icing with brown sugar. That’s not as bad as white sugar, you know.”

“You might want to double-check that,” Glory said, but let it go. “Okay, here’s my news, and it’s big. Caroline Proctor called me just before the wedding.” Juan brought the doughnuts. “
Hola
, Juan. Good to see you.”

He set the plates down, then gave Glory a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you, too, Glory. Here’s your coffee, extra cream and two sugars.” He put the can of Reddi-wip on the table and set down Lorna’s oversize mug of black coffee. “
El azúcar
for my
azúcar
.”

“
Gracias
,” Glory said. “Did you two have a nice Thanksgiving?”

He sighed. “Day in, day out, Lorna works me like a dog.”

“Oh, shush,” Lorna said. “Get back inside before somebody shoplifts the Slim Jims.” Lorna thumbed the red cap off the whipped cream. “I know these are bad for the environment,” she said, squirting swirls of sweet cream on top of her coffee, “but I’m old and I work hard and I deserve some sweetness. Oh, maybe just a smidgen more.” The tower of cream grew taller. “Go on. What did Caroline have to say? Is this the secret that’s going to get sister’s undies in a bundle?”

“Actually, it is.” Glory told Lorna about Juniper. “Can you believe it? What are the chances of our paths crossing again? At first I said no, but when I introduced her to Cadillac, something happened. I don’t know, it felt wrong to send her on her way. I dropped her off at King City High School this morning. It’s strange to have another person in the house, but I like it. I forgot how much of a racket kids make.”

Lorna nodded. She cut her doughnut into pieces, speared one with her fork, then ran it through the whipped cream before putting it into her mouth.

“It’s not like you to have nothing to say,” Glory said.

“That’s because I’m listening.”

Glory felt the bite of doughnut turn to a lump in her stomach. “Lorna, do you think I made a terrible mistake?”

Lorna took hold of both Glory’s hands and looked her in the eyes. Lorna’s steely gray hair was braided, then wound into two buns above her ears. Her sharp features and hairstyle made her look like an Indian maiden on an antique postcard. “
Terrible
isn’t the word I’d use.”

Glory’s face went hot. “Then what word would you use? It’s not like I traded my pickup in for a Hummer or bought myself a Picasso. She’s a kid who needs a home for four years. When Dan was alive, we always had fosters.”

Lorna let Glory’s hands go. “
Estimado
, you have a big heart and I know you mean well. Plus you get a check for taking her in. That’s got to help your present situation, but—”

Glory’s back stiffened. “It’s not about the money.”

“
Calmarse
. But, Glory, the burden rests on you alone now. It hasn’t been a full year. Are you sure you’re ready to add a teenager into the mix?”

“Was I any more ready for those boys Dan and I fostered?”

Juan hollered out the door, “Lorna!
Teléfono. Ven aquí, por favor!
”

Lorna smiled because that was what a good friend did, but Glory could tell she was biting back her words. That felt worse than having her come right out and ask, “Are you
loco en la cabeza?
” Lorna took Glory’s hand again. “Did I show you my newest pig statue? It’s a cast-iron boot scraper. Won’t that come in handy the next couple of months?”

“You bet.” Lorna’s affection for the javelina was evident everywhere, from the pig brooch on her sweater to the patterned fleece vest she wore in the wintertime. Every rancher and farmer in the area hated the beasts. They ran amok, rooted up gardens, and terrorized farm animals.

Glory put her coffee down. A group of hikers had arrived and were discussing their expensive hiking shoes. Glory figured she could have bought a month of groceries with that much money. “Lorna, your approval means the world to me. I’m going to try this. I think Juniper and I might be good for each other.”

“She’s a lucky girl. Be sure you bring her to the Christmas party. She can socialize with my great-nephew. Elliot has a face like a pie, but he’s a nice boy, and she could use a friend, right?”

Glory stood up. “Definitely.” She took out her wallet, but Lorna pushed it away. “Thanks for the coffee and doughnuts.”

“I’m always here for you.” Lorna took a few steps toward the store, then turned back to Glory. “I’m just going to say this one thing and then I promise I’ll drop it.”

“Here we go,” Glory said under her breath.

“Seriously. Glory, teenage girls have
pantaletas
on fire. I see them here in the summertime. They think nothing of shoplifting a package of gummy bears when they have money to pay for it right in their pockets. They parade around in stringy bikinis and the poor boys get all worked up. They’re too embarrassed to buy rubbers so they have unprotected sex, and who ends up pregnant?”

“Lorna, I love you with all my heart, but right now you’re sounding a lot like Queenie.”

“Consider this practice for telling Her Majesty.”

Glory folded her paper napkin and set it down on her empty plate. “I’m already in trouble for buying my mother romance novels for Christmas.”

“Put a bow on the girl’s head and a tag reading, ‘To Queenie, with love from Glory.’ She’ll be so relieved it’s a joke that she won’t care you took the girl in. Are we still friends?”

“Of course.” Glory hugged Lorna good-bye. She wanted to tell Lorna that in the past couple of days she hadn’t cried one tear. That she’d skipped her regularly scheduled Closet Time and actually laughed a few times. Who better to show her how to survive loss than Casey McGuire’s younger sister? But Glory looked at her watch and knew she’d be late for work if she didn’t leave right then.

Tuesday, Glory was sent home from work at noon, having worked only two hours. The store manager sent Larry O. to deliver the news. “The recession has everyone scared and hanging on to their money,” he said.

“Can you explain that in plain English?”

Larry looked around the store as if he were the manager, considering rearranging everything. “What can I say, Gloria? Last one hired, first one—”

“Am I fired?”

“No. But unless you decide to work graveyard, your schedule will be a day-to-day decision for the present. Sorry if that messes up your plans.”

He actually sounded sorry, Glory thought as she drove home, trying not to cry, making mathematical calculations in her head. Was it was too late to apply anywhere else? With Juniper home on the weekends, that limited Glory’s availability even more. She could park Juniper at the store’s snack table with her homework while Glory worked her four-hour shift, but the county might frown on that. What the heck. She’d use the free time to experiment with fondant cakes. Put flyers up in the market: “Beautiful, homemade cakes in holiday themes. Pirate ships a specialty.” Why stop there? She’d make some brochures, distribute them to B&Bs to advertise her culinary skills in addition to a charming wedding location. Did a person needed a business license to sell cakes? How did you charge? By the inch?

The phone rang and Cadillac ran to it and began barking. Glory danced around him, trying not to fall down, and grabbed the receiver. Her hand was so slippery with buttercream icing that she dropped it, sending Edsel yipping down the hall in fright and Caddy running to clean up what Edsel missed. “Leave it,” she said, but Caddy had already lost interest when the phone stopped ringing.

Glory was out of breath when she finally said hello. Whoever was on the other end had probably hung up by now. “Excuse the racket. I accidentally dropped the phone, and the dogs—oh, never mind. This is Solomon’s Oak Wedding Chapel, Glory Solomon speaking. May I help you?”

“Glory, it’s Monica Phelps.”

Since all of their foster sons had attended King City High, Glory knew the principal well enough to call her by her first name. She was probably calling to say hello, since she hadn’t been in her office yesterday when Glory registered Juniper for classes. “Hello, Monica. How are you?”

She heard the sigh in Monica’s voice. “I’m fine. I’m afraid there’s been an incident with Juniper.”

“Oh, no! What happened? Is she hurt? Does she need to go to the hospital?”

Principal Phelps cleared her throat. “Not an accident, an
incident.
”

That didn’t sound good. Glory worked her apron off with her left hand and was already reaching for the car keys hanging on the rack next to the sink. “Is she all right? Anything broken?”

“No, no. She appears to be fine. But the student she struck is a little shaken up.”

“She hit someone?”

“Apparently she had to be held back from doing it again. I’m sorry, Glo, but you know the rules. Matters such as these constitute an automatic—”

“Three-day suspension,” Glory finished for her. “Wow, Monica. I’m shocked. She’s been nothing but gentle since she arrived here. Doesn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. Were there any witnesses?”

“Quite a crowd, evidently.”

“You’re sure? We both know how teenagers exaggerate.”

“Any other circumstances I’d be the first to suggest that. The girl she hit has a red mark on her face I’m praying doesn’t turn into a bruise, or things might get ugly.”

“I don’t know what to say. Could you give her another chance?”

“I’m just as sorry as you are. But her suspension is statewide policy. If there’s a repeat offense, she could be expelled.”

Heat climbed Glory’s neck. Over the years, when their foster sons got into various scrapes fueled by hormones, Dan’s policy was to back off. Let them learn from their mistakes what it means to be an adult. Glory agreed, but Juniper was a girl. What kind of fourteen-year-old girl hits someone, and on the second day of class? “What was Juniper’s side of it?”

“She refuses to say. Maybe you can drag it out of her. I have her sitting in the front office. When can you come get her?”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Glory said, and hung up the phone.

She covered the fondant poinsettia leaves—or were they petals?—with waxed paper and put them in the fridge. Until the phone call, she was happily experimenting with detailing fondant and sculpting chocolate. Her fingertips were stained red, and her shirt had powdered sugar and luster dust all over it. She put Edsel in the bedroom and whistled for Cadillac to get in the truck cab. “Time to go to work, buddy,” she said. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

All Glory’s dogs had high self-esteem. Edsel was a bit of a narcissist, Dodge believed to his marrow that everyone in the world was put there to welcome his slobbering kisses, but only Caddy was a master at détente. Glory knew it was wrong of her to pass him off as one of those service dogs allowed in public places, but in his defense, he was certified to visit convalescent homes. She snapped on his vest in the school parking lot and walked into the high school office with him at her side.