Sarah Allen - The Girl Who Chased the Moon

“It’s cotton. It’s not so bad,” she said, drawing the sleeves down farther and grasping the cuffs in her hands.

“I understand. Scars aren’t pretty on a woman.” Beverly leaned in and whispered, “I have a tiny scar here on my forehead that I don’t like anyone to see. That’s why I have my hairstylist, Yvonne, fix this curl just so.”

Julia smiled and nodded, waiting for Beverly to get to what she was really there to talk about.

Julia had been twelve the first time her father had brought Beverly home. He’d told Julia at the time that he thought she needed another female around to talk to about girl things, now that she was growing up-as if he’d brought Beverly into their lives for her sake. Beverly had been very attentive to Julia at first. Julia had been a baby when her mother died, so she’d begun to think that maybe having Beverly around would be nice. But then Beverly and Julia’s father had gotten married, and Julia had actually felt the power shift. Julia’s father’s attention had been inexorably drawn to the person who’d demanded it the most. And that person had been Beverly. No amount of pouting or temper tantrums, and, later, pink hair or cutting, could ever have competed with Beverly, sexy Beverly with her puff of blond hair, the low V of her shirts, and the high heels she wore even with shorts. She’d liked doing things for Julia’s father-cooking his meals, lighting his cigarettes, rubbing his shoulders as he watched television. When Beverly didn’t get her way, she’d stop doing those things, and it had been painful for Julia to watch her father try to get back into her good graces.

Beverly and her father had stayed together until about four years ago. When her father had told her about the divorce during Julia’s annual Christmas call to him, he’d said in his kind, simple way, “Beverly is such a vibrant woman. She needed more than I could give her.”

What she needed, Julia later found out, was a man with cash. Julia’s father never had a lot of money, but he’d done very well for a man with only an eighth-grade education. He’d owned his own home and business, free and clear, by the time he was thirty. And he’d been an excellent money manager, which was why Julia had been so shocked when she’d discovered the extent of his debt after his death. She could only assume Beverly had spent her way through what he had, and when there was nothing left, she’d left him for Bud Dale, who had just opened his second muffler shop in town.

Julia remembered seeing Beverly for the first time in years at her father’s funeral. She’d aged quite a bit, but she still had that power women with big noses have to seem beautiful, even when they aren’t. “I’m sorry about your daddy,” she’d said. “Let me know if there’s any money left. Some of it should go to me, don’t you think? We had twenty beautiful years together.” And she’d said it right in front of Bud Dale.

When Julia sold her father’s house and took what little was left after paying off the mortgage and applied it to his restaurant mortgage, Beverly had been livid. Some of that money could have gone to her, she’d insisted. But once she realized what Julia was doing, staying here and working to get the restaurant mortgage paid off in order to sell it for a profit, she periodically accosted Julia to remind her that some of the money should go to her, naturally. Like they were in this together.

“Is it always this slow at this hour?” Beverly asked, waving one of the waitresses over to her. “I’d like two breakfast specials, to go. I’ll surprise Bud at work. He’ll never believe I’m up this early.”

“The place will fill up soon,” Julia assured her.

“I hope so. It looks like you’re not doing enough to bring in business at breakfast. And you make a lot of desserts.” She pointed to the chalkboard. “Do people really eat it all every day? If there’s any left over, that’s a terrible waste of money.”

“There’s never any left over. I was just on my way out, Beverly,” Julia said. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, stop with that You don’t have anywhere to go. You never do anything but work and go home. You’re so much like your daddy.”

Julia tried to hold her smile. At one point in her life, she would have welcomed the comparison. Now, she wanted to scream No! I’ve done so much more!

“I know it’s only a few more months until you’re going to sell this place. Rumor has it that Charlotte is interested in buying it from you. I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh?” Charlotte was the day manager of the restaurant, and the perfect person to sell it to. She not only knew the business, she cared about it. And that meant something to Julia now. When she’d first come back to town, Julia would have gladly sold the restaurant to anyone if it had meant a profit. Now that she’d been here awhile, she realized that she owed it to her father to let it go to someone who loved it as much as he had. That’s what staying too long had done to her. It had made her soft.

“I think you might give the restaurant to her for less than you should, just because she’s worked here a long time. But the whole point is to get as much money as possible for it.”

“Thank you for your input, Beverly.”

The waitress brought out a bag containing two covered Styrofoam trays. She handed the bag to Beverly, who took it from her without acknowledgment.

“I’ll see you soon,” Beverly said. “We can go over arrangements. Make it all nice and official, okay?”

Julia didn’t say a word, but she had absolutely no intention of giving Beverly any money from the sale of the restaurant. She didn’t care how mad Beverly would be when she found out. Julia wouldn’t be here to deal with it. It was just easier to let Beverly believe what she wanted to believe. Arguing with her would only make Julia’s time here more miserable, and might even hurt business.

Julia and the waitress watched Beverly leave. The waitress-Julia forgot her name-was new. She was holding Beverly’s bill in her hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” Julia said. “She never thinks she has to pay.”

The waitress crumpled up the bill, and Julia headed for the door.

Only to have it open, and there was Sawyer.

Julia rubbed her forehead. How could a day be this bad so early?

Sawyer was so bright and attentive, even at this hour. She wondered if he ever slept, or if he simply stayed awake all night, pacing with energy and thinking of new ways to sparkle and charm, new ways to get his way. He met her eyes and smiled. “Julia, you look lovely. Doesn’t she look lovely, Granddad?” Sawyer asked the elderly gentleman he was helping through the door.

The old man looked up and smiled. He had deep blue eyes like Sawyer. Alexander men were a sight to behold. “You do look lovely, Julia. That pink streak in your hair adds pizzazz.”

Julia smiled at that. “Thank you, Mr. Alexander. Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Wait for me, Julia,” Sawyer said. “I want to talk to you.”

All sorts of warning signals went up, firework flashes in her periphery. “Sorry,” she said, and slipped out the door as soon as Sawyer’s grandfather had passed by her. “Gotta go.”

She walked down the sidewalk toward home. She thought for a moment that she saw Emily down the street, but then she lost sight of her.

Julia knew she could have driven to work, but with most of her money being funneled into the principal payments on the restaurant’s mortgage, gas was a luxury. Sometimes her walks home reminded her too much of walking to high school because her father couldn’t afford to buy her a car. With envy, she used to watch all the kids who could afford cars drive by. Members of Sassafras, in particular, in their BMWs and Corvettes.