The Promise of Paradise - By Allie Boniface Page 0,43

I’m sorry,” Ash said. “I wish I could be there. I do. But I can’t.” She couldn't play that charade, shrug that life on again like a skin that just slipped off for a few weeks. It wasn't that easy.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Mamie hiccupped, but Ash could hear her smoothing her voice, ratcheting down any emotion that might betray her. The way she always did. The way she probably always would.

“I’ll have Jess or Anne call you next week,” she went on, as if Ash hadn’t refused to join them at the Kirk vacation home but simply said she needed to check her calendar. “Maybe you can find some time to work us in.”

“Mom, listen. It’s not that I don’t want to be there for Dad. I just…”

“I know. You have a life of your own, and you want to live it. I understand that.”

Ash weakened a little.

“But your father needs your support. Is that too much to ask?”

Ash didn’t answer. She didn’t know. And when her mother hung up a moment later, all she really knew was that she felt exhausted beyond belief, squeezed tight and wrung out, like laundry left too long in the rain.

* * *

“Evenin’, boss.” J.T. flashed Ash a smile as she stepped inside Blues and Booze. The stupid umbrella she’d grabbed from her car had lasted exactly thirty seconds before it pulled itself inside out and went twisting down the sidewalk away from her.

She ignored his greeting and stomped through the bar, checking the orders and the cash register before making her way to the kitchen.

“Well, somebody’s got her panties in a knot,” she heard behind her. One of the guys at the bar, she supposed. Probably Jackson Todd. Or maybe Tyler Mulligan. J.T.’s cronies often hung out after their shifts at the cheese factory, slurping down a few beers before going home to their wives.

She didn’t bother to turn around. Get it together, Ash. A bad mood isn’t going to get you anywhere. It’s not their fault your life is a total mess right now. You have work to do. So do it. She grabbed a clipboard and pulled open the coolers in the back, making notes as she went down each shelf. “More apple pie, more double-chocolate torte, still enough cheesecake…”

“Ash?” Lacey waltzed into the kitchen. “Carla just called. Said she can’t make it tonight. Car trouble or something.”

“You’re kidding.” Their newest waitress, a single mother of two, had called in late three times in the last week. Ash really needed to tell Marty to get rid of her. If they couldn't depend on Carla, she might as well look somewhere else for a job. Ash would pick up extra shifts if she had to.

Lacey started making salads, draping them loosely with plastic wrap and storing them in the refrigerator. “Sorry.”

Ash shrugged. “We’ll deal. Rain might keep people away, anyway.”

“Remember that Ladies’ Day idea you were talking about?” Lacey asked. She dumped out the afternoon’s coffee and started another pot.

Ash nodded. She’d thought about opening the restaurant on Sunday afternoons, offering specials for Paradise’s wives and girlfriends whose men spent the day staring at eight straight hours of baseball. Maybe introduce a vegetarian dish or two. Maybe get one of the local salons to offer manicures. She didn’t know any of the girls who worked in Hair Heaven or Nails and Tails, but she supposed she could ask around.

Ash bit her bottom lip as a thought snuck its way in. That wasn’t exactly true, was it? She knew Cass worked at one of the salons in Paradise.

“Hi yourself, Cassandra. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Stopping by to say hi, that’s all…It’s been a while. You haven’t stopped by the salon…”

Cassandra. And Eddie. That thought hurt.

“Ash?”

“Sorry.” She jumped, and the pencil slipped from her fingers. “What?”

Lacey gave her a funny look. “I was talking to my housemates about it. They think the Sunday thing’s a great idea. They’d definitely come.”

“Oh. Well, good. Maybe I’ll mention it to Marty, see what he thinks.”

Lacey nodded and backed through the swinging door. “Let me know if I can help. I wouldn’t mind picking up another shift.”

Ash straightened her shirt and grabbed a fresh stack of order slips. Deep down, she hoped the rain brought people in today, rather than kept them away. That way she could keep her mind on juggling trays instead of botched kisses and awkward telephone conversations she didn’t know how to sort out. She spent another ten minutes