Allison Leigh - A Montana Homecoming

He took them and gave her a hug. “Your father would be very proud of you, Laurel.”

Behind them, the funeral director and his associates were efficiently removing the casket. Laurel watched them for a moment. There was an awful, hollow feeling inside her, and it surpassed the emotional black hole that had prompted her to call off her wedding. “Proud? I can’t imagine why.”

“Remember? He told me you were a teacher. That you have a master’s degree in education from the University of Colorado, even. He was proud,” Beau assured. “Now, there’s a table waiting for us over at the Luscious. Evie, Stu, you’ll join us.”

Neither seemed inclined to argue. Evie tucked her arm through Laurel’s as they headed out of the church. Within minutes their small caravan arrived at the café and, just as Beau promised, there was a table waiting.

The waitress had barely delivered their water glasses and menus when Evie sat forward. “You know, Laurel, the school here has been short staffed for over a year.”

“Geez, Evie,” Stu groused a little. He didn’t bother with a menu. “Give her a chance to settle in first.” He focused on Laurel. “How long do you have that rental car for?”

“Er, through the weekend.”

“Well, you let me know if you’re gonna be in the market for buying something more long term. I’ll make sure you get a good deal.”

Her mouth dried a little. She had a car back in Colorado. It was still parked at the apartment complex, where the rest of her worldly goods were stored in a locked garage. None of it would be moved to Martin’s as they planned to do once they returned from their honeymoon. “Thank you,” she said. She didn’t know how to tell them that the permanency of her stay in Lucius was still undetermined.

“Stu knows what’s under the hood of all the used cars around here,” Evie said. “It’s one of his few skills.”

Stu shot her a look. “I’ll remember that when you need your engine rebuilt.”

Evie grinned.

The tears that had been painfully absent earlier now seemed to clog Laurel’s throat. She looked down at the menu, blinking hard. Why was it that she could cry just because this family behaved so normally? Because they just let her be, didn’t seem to expect her to break down and didn’t seem shocked that she hadn’t.

Around her, the café was alive with conversations, the clatter of dishes, the aroma of coffee and grilling hamburgers. And after a minute she could actually absorb the words that she was staring at.

The menu, aside from a few modern additions like grilled-chicken wraps and low-carb hamburger buns, held few changes. “Is the fried chicken here still good?”

“Better ’n ever,” Beau assured. “Oh, good. There’s Shane. I was hoping he’d be able to join us.”

Laurel’s water glass tipped precariously when she knocked into it with her menu, but Stu stretched out a long arm, capably catching it before it spilled.

“Sorry I couldn’t make the service,” Shane murmured as he took the seat beside her. Beneath the square table, his thigh brushed against hers as he returned the few hails sent his way from other diners. “Stuck in court.”

“I, um, I didn’t expect anyone at all,” she admitted, carefully shifting away. She felt a little steadier if she focused on the other members of Shane’s family. “It was just…so…nice of you to be there.”

Evie smiled. “If we’re nice enough, maybe you’ll decide to stay in Lucius and look into a teaching position. Julie goes into third grade in the fall and I really, really don’t want her to have to have Mrs. Cuthwater as a teacher.”

“Mrs. Cuthwater still teaches?” Laurel remembered the woman. Any child who passed third grade was left with the desperate fear of not sitting up straight enough or of slanting their cursive writing the wrong way.

“She substitutes,” Shane supplied. “Out of necessity.”

“See?” Evie leaned forward, her blue eyes merry. “Think of my sweet, innocent baby, Laurel.”

“I could be worse than Mrs. Cuthwater,” Laurel warned.

Evie, Stu and Beau all chuckled at the prospect, and Laurel felt her tension begin to leave again. The waitress came by and they ordered.

“I probably should thank you,” she told Shane after the waitress departed. “For the plywood. I assume that was you.” Before evening had fallen on that day, an enormous sheet of wood had been laid across the steps, creating a rough but sturdy ramp. It had been a nice gesture, though it had rankled her that he’d done it without consulting her.

“What plywood?” Beau asked.

Shane plucked the lemon out of his iced tea and dropped it into hers, as if it were perfectly natural for him to do so. As if he remembered, from those few weeks they’d once spent together, just how dearly she loved lemon in her tea. “To cover the steps at the house before she breaks a leg going through them.” His voice was flat.

Laurel’s cheeks went even hotter at the tsks that statement elicited. Nobody questioned, of course, which house, as if Roger Runyan’s house was the only one in all of Lucius that could be in such disrepair.

“It’s not that bad,” she defended.

“Maybe you should stay at Evie’s,” Stu suggested, and Evie immediately nodded.

“I have an empty room right now. The tower room, in fact. Nicest one at Tiff’s.”

Laurel remembered it, having helped her mother occasionally. “I’m fine where I am. Really.” Even if the entire Golightly clan did believe she’d be better off staying in a cardboard box than in her own father’s house.

“She thinks she’s gonna fix things up there by herself,” Shane said.

“‘She’s’ sitting right here,” Laurel interjected, “and can speak for herself. The house needs repairs if I’m going to sell it.”

“If?” Shane’s voice was incredibly mild.

“Mrs. Cuthwater needs a reprieve,” she reminded, and saw the triumphant look passing between Evie and Stu.

“Without a reason to get up in the morning, Mrs. Cuthwater might as well lie down next to Mr. Cuthwater in Lucius Cemetery.”

“Shane,” Beau cautioned.

“She shouldn’t be staying in that house, much less wasting time and energy fixing it up, and we all know it.”

Laurel angled herself away from Shane. “You’ve made your opinion more than clear about that house. I don’t really need to hear it again.”

“Evidently, you do. Because you’re still there. You don’t have to fix it up to sell it.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Who on earth would buy it in its current condition?”

Evie made a faint sound.

“All rightee, here we go.” The waitress arrived, bearing plates of food. She brushed her hands together when she finished unloading. “I’ll be back to top off your drinks. Anything else I can get for you?”

Laurel’s appetite for her fried chicken was definitely waning, but mindful of the concerned look in Beau’s eyes and not wanting to add to it, she picked up a drumstick.

“Probably should have a contractor look at your dad’s place,” Stu said. “Jack Finn’s the best around. He wouldn’t have to do the work, necessarily, but he could steer you in the right direction.”

Stu either possessed a remarkable ability to remain oblivious to the irritation rolling off Shane in waves or he simply didn’t care. Either way, Laurel wanted to lean over and kiss him. “Finn? He’s Freddie Finn’s dad, isn’t he?” She was surprised at the ease she had recalling old names, old faces.

Stu buried his attention in his burger as he nodded. “Call Jack. You won’t regret it.”

Laurel glanced at Evie. She would have to think about calling the contractor. It certainly made the most sense to get advice from a professional. But the cost was a consideration she couldn’t ignore, no matter how wise it would be. “Is Freddie still in Lucius? She was in your grade, wasn’t she?”