Just One Day Read online

  I sighed. I was losing it.

  I hadn’t even left a note, or called anyone to let them know I was leaving town. Hell, I didn’t even know I was leaving town until I passed all the exits and there was nothing but Texas highway in front of me. I had nowhere to go. I rubbed a temple and wished I’d brought some coffee with me. I wished my parents were still around for me to call and ask what the hell I should do. Why did I have to be the grown-up? That was one cruel joke.

  And when was the last time I’d gone anywhere without accountability? The photo album danced in front of my memory, playing out the images like a slideshow. That weekend at the lake. My friends and I, celebrating freedom from school and the excitement of life ahead—and him.

  Oh, to be young and stupid and impetuous again. Then again, being proposed to on a yacht at forty-four wasn’t exactly being in a rut. Maybe something was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I just say yes? I mean, there were worse things.

  Throwing up in front of sixty people was probably one of them.

  Oh God. I banged my palms against the leather of the steering wheel, wishing it could be my head. How would I ever face those people again? How would Brad? He had to work with them—oh, dear God—I was a troll.

  A troll on the run. That could be the funny story around the office. How the great Brad Marcus’s girlfriend dumped him, lost her mind, took his car, and never returned.

  I was delirious. Maybe because I was hungry. Maybe it was the hangover, or the thickening wind whipping my hair around. The air did feel different, the further I got from the coast, getting heavier instead of lighter. It was odd, I thought, since nothing could be heavier than the muggy Gulf Coast. There were some ominous-looking clouds far ahead in the distance, but even with that there was something different about it. Something I couldn’t quite name.

  “Great, a storm,” I said. “Just your kind, Dad,” I called out so that the wind would suck my words behind me. He’d loved storms, and we’d sit out on the porch and watch them blow down the street when I was little. He’d say that each one had a purpose and a story. We’d watch torrents of rain break down an ant bed, and then afterward watch the ants carry each tiny grain to another location to rebuild. While the rosebushes behind them flourished from the fresh influx of water.

  “Every storm has a balance, Andie,” he’d say, as we’d huddle on the porch, just out of reach of the rain, drinking Coca-Colas and eating Cheetos from a big bag. “For everything it floods or tears away, it gives something else new life.”

  “Tell me what to do, Dad,” I whispered against the wind. “Because that up ahead doesn’t look like fun.”

  As I topped a hill, a little mom-and-pop diner slid into view, and I shook my head in amazement. Breakfast.

  “Of course!” I said on a laugh. “Breakfast cures everything.” I remembered how many times teenage angst resulted in pancakes. Sometimes even in the middle of the night. “Wasn’t really what I meant, but I’ll take it.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had the real deal. Brad hated breakfast. Said it slowed down his productivity, and that all he needed was two cups of black coffee and a protein shake. Eyeing the diner, I felt a giddy sense of nonproductivity settle over me. I wanted waffles, damn it.

  The dark band of clouds looming on the horizon added every other possible excuse for stopping. I could ride it out there. Grab a table, have a waffle, read my book. Made perfect sense to me.

  The dust swirled around the car as I pulled off the road onto crackling gravel and hard dirt, making me cough. I covered my face, and then felt a little bad for Brad’s interior as the fine haze of dirt settled into the fabric. I hurried to put the top up before more dust settled in. His car was his baby. So much so, in fact, that he really must have wanted to win me over to hand over the keys like that. That had to be a point in his favor.

  I squinted through my dusty windshield, at the diner’s equally dirty windows, sunbaked already even at nine in the morning. Only a few bodies moved around inside, and from the look of the beat-up pickup trucks next to me, they were local to the rural area I’d entered. I was glad of that, remembering that I hadn’t done a thing to myself since the previous night’s escapade. I glanced in the rearview mirror with a wince and twisted up my matted-hair-sprayed-and-then-put-through-seventy-mile-an-hour-wind hair with a hair band I’d had the forethought to bring, and then attempted to scrape away the dried eyeliner.

  “My God, Andie, you look like a psychopath,” I mumbled. No one would notice me, anyway, I figured. I’d sit in a corner and graze in peace.

  I looked around before I opened the door. I was truly in the middle of nowhere. Hills that led to more hills, connected by parched-looking earth that hadn’t seen rain in a while. Everything, including the building, just looked dusty and hot.

  “Well, there you go,” I said aloud. “Every storm has a purpose.”

  I knew, just off outward appearances, that Brad would never have stopped there. He would drive ten miles out of the way to find a nice “real” restaurant, because the food would be healthy and worthy and the facilities would be clean. I’d teased him for years about his food snobbery, how one day we’d be Mr. and Mrs. Jack Sprat, him eating sushi while I licked the dripping ketchup from a cheeseburger.

  Somehow, we worked. Even being so different. In the beginning I wondered if I was just an experiment on his part, Brad Marcus being so out of my self-defined league and all. I was a boring working mom with debt and impending college tuition. Of all the cultured and refined and worthy women at his reach, why would I even be on his radar?

  So I asked him. He told me that I was like a complicated, beautiful flower. An intriguing puzzle that he needed to figure out. And that he loved a challenge. And then he told me that he loved me.

  I guess that trumped all the other bullshit, because I stayed with him after being called a challenging flower.

  And things got really good, I thought. Solid. Until last night. Now, as I sat in a dusty parking lot of a thousand-year-old building, running from a ticking clock and thinking waffles would bring world peace, I wondered. Was I still an experiment?

  Did he love me? I thought he did. It was there in his eyes that morning as he brought me coffee. I’d been divorced for a long time, but I was pretty sure that the love part shouldn’t be in question. And if he loved me, wouldn’t he hear all the other million little things? Like small, simple, classy, not extravagant. It was like he never heard a word.

  I opened my car door to get away from my thoughts, and the aroma wafted straight to me. I guess the dust cloud overpowered it the first time.

  “Oh, dear God, bacon,” I said, closing my eyes as the salivating began. I didn’t care about the evils of fried pork at that moment, or the fat content, or whatever else was surely on Brad’s checklist. He wasn’t there.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you okay?”

  The raspy hollering to my left brought me out of my reverie with a jump and a gasp. The crusty-looking old man standing by my car did little to alleviate that shock. Where the hell had he come from? Still, furry eyebrows and all, he looked relatively harmless. I figured I could probably take him in a standoff.

  I laughed as I swung myself out of the car and hit the remote to lock the door. It made its usual chirping sound, which caused one of the furry eyebrows to wiggle a little.

  “Just sitting in there, talking to yourself, thought I’d make sure,” the man said, as if I’d answered.

  “I’m fine,” I said, giving him a smile. “Smells good already.”

  I made to walk around him, but he turned and fell into step with me so I slowed down.

  “Air’s thick,” he said, his scratchy voice giving in to just air at the end. “Sparkly.”

  I laughed. “Sparkly?”

  “You know,” he said, nodding toward where the darkness sat up ahead. “That there’s an electric storm, for sure. Don’t you feel it?”

  He was right, and that was the difference I’d sensed
. Like all my hairs wanted to sit up just a little.

  “Weird, coming from inland like that,” I said, letting him shuffle up the old wooden steps before me. “Usually have storms like that coming off the Gulf.”

  “That where you’re coming from?”

  “Yes sir,” I said. “Baytown.”

  “I’m Jarvis,” he said as I stepped around an old wrought-iron bench to hold open the door. “My wife, May, sent me out here to stare at the weather. Like I can do something about it. But,” he continued, scratching his head, “today’s a different kind of day. I feel it.”

  I chuckled at his eccentricity. “You come here often?”

  “Oh, most days,” he said with an enthusiastic nod. “Love the smell of breakfast in the morning,” he said on a husky laugh. “Nothing like it. Especially at this place.”

  The mixed aromas of the aforementioned bacon and syrup and doughy bready things filled my senses, and I marveled at how rebellious I felt. Over food. I chose not to dwell too much on how pathetic that might be.

  An elderly woman with a sweet smile waved from a table to the left, her white hair neatly arranged with barrettes on the sides. I smiled as Jarvis headed her way, and I scanned the room for an obscure spot to blend into.

  “Come join us,” he said, turning back around. “It’s no fun to eat by yourself. Makes you think too much.”

  I started to protest, thinking that’s exactly what I needed, to melt into my decadence and ponder my life. But his sweet saggy eyes were just too much, and reluctantly I followed him, taking in the room as I went. It was old, but quaint and clean, scrubbed shiny with vinyl booths and bright chrome chairs. Black-and-white framed photos hung at random, sharing space with odd metal advertisements that appeared to be the real deal and not there for décor. Like they hadn’t been moved in fifty years, and once upon a time there really was a nickel plate dinner. A massive bar filled the space to my right, with stools that appeared to grow right out of the floor.

  “Thank you, Jarvis,” I said, sliding into a booth across from his wife. I caught the surprised glance she gave him, which he winked away. “I’m Andie.”

  She flashed a brilliant smile that for a second belied the soft wrinkles of her face and showed a glimpse of what was likely once stunning beauty. “Nice to meet you, Andie,” she said. “I’m May.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your breakfast,” I said as Jarvis slid in next to her and she scooted sideways. “Your husband told me I might think too much if I sat alone.”

  “It’s true,” he said, setting to work on doctoring up a cup of coffee already in front of him. “Festering is what you get, eating alone. Just makes you want to eat more.”

  May laughed and lifted a hand to tap on his temple. “He has his own drummer in there.”

  They were adorable. My thoughts took off on their own, picturing me and Brad sitting like that in thirty years. Not that we’d be in a diner. Or having breakfast anywhere. More like a sushi bar at night. In formal wear. Would I still have to wear heels at that age?

  A blonde girl with braces set a glass of water in front of me. “Coffee?” she asked.

  “Please,” I said. “Two creams.”

  “Do you—need a menu?” she asked.

  The look on her face and the way she said the word menu told me that most of their clientele had never used one and she wasn’t quite sure where they were located.

  “What are you in the mood for?” Jarvis asked, his blue eyes looking amused.

  I licked my lips. “Waffles with lots of butter. Blueberry topping. Bacon and fried eggs.”

  The girl’s eyebrows raised as she scribbled it on her pad. “Got it.”

  May laughed as the waitress walked away. I smiled at her, knowing I probably wouldn’t finish it but I had to taste it all. Who knew when I’d get another opportunity? Then, I noticed they hadn’t ordered anything.

  “You aren’t ordering?”

  May waved a hand at me. “Oh, we’ve already eaten,” she said. “You’re fine.”

  I didn’t care if they all thought I was a loony out-of-towner with a trucker’s appetite. I might even finish it just on principal. No big plans later other than lying around reading a book in a hotel room somewhere, so if gluttony was the call of the day—so damn be it. It was my day. Twenty-four hours. I looked at my watch and felt the inner grimace. Almost ten o’clock, already. Only twenty-one left.

  * * *

  There was something cathartic about the clink of the silverware on the heavy plates. The smell of the syrup, the steaming coffee and the muted chatter of the few other patrons in the diner. It made me want to curl up with it all and take a nap. Brad would blame that on the heavy food.

  “I wonder if Jesse is around today?” Jarvis asked his wife. “Seen him?”

  May shook her head. “Probably upstairs. He was pretty cranky yesterday.”

  “That damn land deal,” Jarvis said under his breath to her. “I hate banks.”

  “I know, hon,” she said.

  “He gets yanked around at every curve.”

  “It’ll work out,” May said, patting his hand. I noticed she wore a simple wedding band. Lucky her. “Jesse is smart and savvy. He’ll pull it through.”

  I felt like I was eavesdropping, and didn’t want to inquire on something that wasn’t my business. But then again, they had invited me to the table.

  “So I’m guessing Jesse is the owner?” I asked, sipping at my water.

  May nodded. “Such a nice man, too.”

  “Good guy. Lost his wife several years back, and he just buried himself in the business ever since,” Jarvis added.

  “Trying to buy up some of the adjoining land here,” May said, their sentences pinging off each other like a tennis match. “And everything seems to be a hassle.”

  “Well, they just don’t get it up in big business,” Jarvis said, taking a generous swallow of his coffee. “They don’t understand expanding little places like this, or wanting to keep the view around here pure.”

  “Keep it pure?” I asked. Blondie came back laden with the largest plate I’d ever seen, and set it in front of me. “Holy cow,” I whispered.

  Huge waffles slathered in butter and blueberries sat fat and happy next to two over-easy eggs and thick slabbed bacon. I hadn’t even told them how I wanted my eggs and they’d managed perfection. Oh, how my arteries were probably calling Brad to tattle on me. And I was going to enjoy every last bite.

  “So tell us, Andie, where are you headed this morning?” May asked.

  Canada? “No idea, actually,” I said, cutting into the stack of decadence, and taking a large bite. “Oh my God,” I mumbled around the food.

  “Really?” May said, leaning in on her arms, looking fascinated. “Just taking a drive?”

  I cut into another piece of waffle, thinking of the precious seconds ticking away while I had no plan to speak of. If these people really knew how that made my blood flow backward, they wouldn’t be so fascinated.

  “Sort of. Getting away for the day.”

  “Just you?”

  I nodded. “Just me,” I said. “My daughter’s off at college, and my—” My what? Boyfriend? Fiancé? No, not yet. “Um, the guy I’m seeing and I had a little disagreement and I’m taking the day to get my thoughts straight.” I spit all that out on one breath.

  “What’d he do?” Jarvis asked, sitting up straight. “I’ll go set him straight if he hurt you.”