Page 10 of Summer Ever After
Satisfied that I had made it home, he waved, revved the engine, and then drove away – and out of my life forever. I waited until the sound of his bike disappeared before walking away from my fake house.
I knew it was the right decision. Max was a good guy. He deserved someone better than a broke maid with an utterly dysfunctional family.
FOUR
MAX
By the timeI reached the landing where I kept my boat, the sun had almost dipped behind the jagged silhouette of Sugar Peak, the largest of the mountains surrounding Windswan Lake. The lake was flat as glass, mirroring the contentment I felt throughout my body. However, it had taken the entire drive for the adrenaline to wear down from the excitement of the afternoon with Daisy.
She had been a bit weird when I dropped her off, but I brushed it off. Nothing about our day had been normal. I had gone out for a quick ride, and she had been walking home from the supermarket. Her groceries. Sure enough, the saddlebags were still bulging with Daisy’s bags of food. Food that had likely spoiled. I checked my watch and knew that I could make it into town and to the store if I went right away – and fast.
Leaving a circular burn-out in the dirt parking lot, the u-turn executed, I cranked the throttle and raced into town - pulling into the supermarket parking lot with ten minutes to spare. A quick assessment of Daisy’s groceries and one quick trip later, I’d replaced any of the stuff that was already spoiled or in any way suspect.
Trying not to let the phone thing bother me, I retraced our turns and pulled into the driveway of the little white house with the red flowers. A light was on in the front room and I could see someone with white hair reading a book. We hadn’t talked about our families in any depth.. I chuckled to myself as I thought about the other things we’d done instead. It looked like she lived with a grandparent.
With the plastic bag in my hand, I used the brass door-knocker and rapped three times.
It took a minute, but the door cracked open and a little old woman with round glasses like Mrs. Claus answered. “Can I help you?”
I held the bag of groceries out in front of me. “Daisy forgot this.”
“What’s that?” the woman cupped her ear.
“Your groceries. I told Daisy I would bring you some milk.”
“Oh, I don’t drink milk,” the woman shouted. “It gives me diarrhea.”
I remembered when Grandpa Starling had started to lose his hearing and tried to enunciate my words strongly for Daisy’s grandma. “Daisy bought these. I’m just delivering them.” Worried that the frail woman would crumple if I placed the heavy bag of food in her hand, I held it open so that she could see what was in the bag.
“Did you say that you brought me daisies?”
My heart sank. Maybe it was hearing mixed with dementia. “No, your granddaughter,” I took a guess, “Daisy, she bought these. I’m delivering them.”
The woman folded her gnarled hands together. “I’m sorry son. I think that you have the wrong house. I don’t have a daughter, let alone a granddaughter named Daisy.”
I inhaled and took a step back. As much as I hated to admit it, at that moment, I hoped that the old lady had dementia and that Daisy was going to bound down the stairs, kiss her grandma’s wrinkled cheek, and take the groceries from my hand.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure I would know if I had a grandchild. I don’t hear well, but I’m not senile…yet. You could try the house across the street. A new family moved in, and they haven’t come by to introduce themselves yet. I was going to bake them a casserole.”
Daisy had waved from the porch. I was one hundred percent certain of it. She lied about her house, and I knew that she had lied about her phone.
But, why?
I cleared my throat. “There might be some good casserole ingredients in here. Would you like to keep this? If not, it will just go to waste.”
The lady took off her glasses and let them hand on the colorful beaded string around her neck. “We can’t let food go to waste. Come in. I’ll get you a cup of Sanka.” She opened the door wide and I stepped into her house. This lady was from both a small town and a different era, one where you invited strangers into your kitchen for instant coffee.
I held up my hand. “I can’t handle caffeine in the evening and I’d like to get going before it gets dark. I’m on a motorcycle.”
“Of course, dear.”
“Let me take this to your kitchen.” As I set the bags on the kitchen table, I took another scan of the main floor of the house. There were plenty of photos, but no sign of Daisy.
She had lied to me. I returned to my bike fueled with both sadness and anger. What kind of game was she playing?
* * *
