Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,15
her pencil at the ready.
“I’ll have the number two with my eggs over medium, wheat toast, and the house potatoes,” I say, craning past Peggy to get a look at the menu on the wall.
“Cal, honey, what are you having?”
“I’ll have the country breakfast with everything,” he says, not having to look at the menu at all. I just shake my head and laugh.
“Gotta keep fueled up, I guess!” Peggy says, her laughter now more nervous. She smiles and retreats back behind the counter.
“She hasn’t changed a bit. You know her own friends gave her that name—Piggy Peggy. I can’t believe she’s here and still just as obsequious as ever. Don’t let her fool you, my boy—she’ll no sooner give you an ingratiating smile than start a rumor that you started your period on the bus coming back from a field trip to the Texas Ranger museum in Waco,” I say, pouring cream into my coffee.
“Hypothetically speaking?” Cal asks.
“I wish,” I say, reliving every horrific moment.
“Cal Wake,” a man strides over to our booth and extends his hand.
“Mr. Coburn.” Cal scoots out of the booth and stands to shake the man’s hand. My stomach drops as I look up at him. Everett Coburn. In North Star there are three families who are set apart from the rest, however unfairly. Well, four if you count the Wakes and you’re talking about the low bar. But if you’re talking about the gold standard of North Star, then it’s the Ackermans, the McKays, and the Coburns. They’re the closest things to royalty North Star’s got. Just ask them . . . they’ll be sure to tell you.
“You looked good out there this morning, son,” Everett says, his hand firmly placed on Cal’s throwing arm.
“Thank you, sir,” Cal says. The man looks from Cal to me and I see the realization settle on his face. I set my jaw and stare right back at him.
“Everett,” I say with a curt nod.
“You know my aunt—,” Cal begins.
“Of course, son. Queenie, nice to see you again, ” Everett says, his entire face lined with contained disbelief.
“I see you’re just as quick with a lie as you always were,” I say with a smile.
“A delight, as usual. Well, good luck out there, Cal. Queenie, welcome home,” Everett says.
“Temporarily,” I say.
“As always,” Everett says, a polite nod to me while he disentangles himself from our booth as quickly as he appeared. Cal slides back in the booth.
“You know Mr. Coburn?” Cal asks as Peggy brings over our breakfasts.
“Yeah. I knew him,” I say as he digs in.
Everett Coburn is the man I’ve been in love with my entire life.
5
Butterscotch hard candy
I need to cook something. I need to lose myself in something else besides the fractured light of my own memory. I’ll cook a big supper as a thank-you for being so welcoming. I’ll cook. And not think about crying at cemeteries, principals walking down hallways with squeaky shoes, and, most of all, about Everett Coburn—with his light brown hair that gets the tiniest flecks of blond just at his temples as the summer goes on. I’ll cook and really not think about his powerful hand resting on Cal’s throwing arm, the muscles threading up his arm like piano wire. I’ll cook so I won’t have to think about those green eyes pinwheeled in brown and yellow playing against his olive skin. The same green eyes that implored me to understand that he was marrying that girl anyway—even as we lay in my bed. No. I’ll cook. It’ll be fine. I’ve been not thinking about Everett Coburn for going on twenty years.
I walk into Merry Carole’s salon with my plan. I open up the front door to the salon, and am met with country music, the hum of hair dryers, and gossip. As I’m pulling a butterscotch hard candy from the decorative bowl, it all screeches to a halt.
“QUEEN ELIZABETH!” Fawn yells, coming around the front desk and diving into me with a hug. She has always been a big woman; her ability to take up space astounded me. Fawn’s ever changing hair color is now an orangey shade of red and cut in a diagonal razored style that should be reserved for teenagers. Her trendy clothes always one size too small and, as always, some version of a rhinestone cowboy boot on her feet. She hasn’t changed a bit. She pulls away from me and settles her eyes on mine.