“I don’t know how you do it,” Eleanor said.
Sugar Faye looked skyward. “Gracious Lord, please bless me again, but this time won’t you let it be a girl?” She sighed and gestured with the casserole. “Well, I better get this on the Sterno before the cheese congeals. If you need anything, anything, don’t hesitate to just give me a ring, easy to remember, triple three quadruple four, everyone in town knows to call me if they need the slightest thing, or just want to, you know, dish and stuff.”
She left in a cloud of her sweet perfume. Kit was already exhausted.
“Let’s eat before these javelinas beat us to it!” Eleanor said and took her place in line. Kit was hungry, but the line moved fast and in a few minutes it was their turn to take a plastic tray and place setting each and go through the buffet. Kit heaped the orange spaghetti on her plate, and took a stack of garlic bread slices, skipping the wet green beans. In front of them was a thin, young man with tight curls, a crisp white button-down, and new Wrangler jeans. He seemed to be looking for a place to sit.
“Caleb,” Eleanor said, touching his shoulder. He startled as if ripped from a daydream.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you,” Eleanor said, laughing. “Would you like to sit with us? That is, if you’re not already committed to someone else?” She winked at Kit.
“No, ma’am, I’d like that very much,” he said, missing Eleanor’s innuendo.
Eleanor held out her hand to present Kit. “I’d like you to meet my niece, Kit. She’s new in town.”
He faltered a moment, surprised, perhaps, at the news that Eleanor had a niece. Blotches appeared on his neck like he’d been slapped.
“Oh, yes,” he said, dusting off the nerves. “Caleb. How do you do?” Kit held out her hand to shake, and he took it. His skin was soft and warm and his grip was strong. His face was nice and plain with squinty eyes, as if he could only take in so much of the world at one time. It was a relief to be near someone who seemed like he didn’t fit in either.
Eleanor led the way to a nearby table and they all sat down to eat. Kit started shoveling spaghetti in her mouth. It was hot and good. The garlic bread was heaven, sharp-smelling and pillowy. She noticed Caleb’s darting glances. When their eyes met, he smiled for the first time and his whole face opened up, making him suddenly handsome when only a moment ago he had been unremarkable.
“How’s Vera doing?” Eleanor said, twirling a shock of noodles onto her fork. “Is she well?”
He nodded. “Some days better than others, ma’am, but today her spirits are good.” He looked at Kit, a bit fearful, then scanned the crowd, lifting out of his seat. “She’s over there by the beanbag toss. You wanna go say hey?”
He pointed to a thin woman in a melon-colored ruffled dress that looked both expensive and tattered. She wore a shawl around her shoulders, though it must have been eighty degrees, and drew long, cheek-swallowing sips from a tall glass.
“Oh, that’s all right,” Eleanor said, brows arched high above low eyelids. “She looks like she’s having a nice moment to herself.” Then she pressed on with her introduction. “You and Kit are about the same age, aren’t you?”
“Oh, maybe,” he said, his eyes fixed on his plate. “I’m eighteen.”
“Wonderful,” Eleanor said, looking pleased. She adjusted her glasses and peered up at him, smiling eagerly. “Why don’t you tell Kit a little about what you kids do around here?”
His blotches deepened. “Oh, I don’t get out much,” he said, then sat up a little straighter. He shifted and glanced at Kit, quickly as if he might be burned. “I suppose people meet up at the diner late nights and go to the movies in Katy. At least that’s what my brother does.”
“You’re being modest,” Eleanor said. “Caleb’s in the police academy over in Richmond. Isn’t that nice, Kit?”
Kit’s heart hiccupped a little at the word police. Harmless though he seemed, she was worried he would find her out, hear something about a strange woman on the run.
“I never thought of police work as nice, I guess.”
“Kit!” Eleanor scolded.
“No, she’s right, ma’am,” he said, straightening his shoulders, his voice just sweeping a lower register. “It’s a thankless way to make a living, but someone’s got to do it.”
A stocky man in his forties wearing a beaver skin cowboy hat sat down next to Kit, so close his thigh pressed against hers. She leaned away.
“Who is this pretty thing, Ellie—she your new maid? Hab-lah Ing-lish usted?” he said slowly, lips and breath heavy with alcohol. “I’m a fool for that south-of-the-border look.”
Kit ground her molars to keep from lashing out.
“New maid? What’s wrong with you, Larry? She’s my niece.”
Kit clutched her utensils and scooted toward Eleanor to get some room. She didn’t like the casual way this man tried to make less of her. Caleb wiped his mouth and pushed his tray aside. He pressed himself halfway up to signal he was ready to step in.
“Pardonay-muah for trying to give a compliment,” Larry said, not the least bit contrite.
“Oh, shut it,” Eleanor said. “You leave us be.”
“Look, I’m just trying to say welcome and hello and nice to meet you. Say, se?orita, why’d you chop off all your hair?” he said and pinched a tuft at her neck.
Like a sprung trap she twisted his wrist with one hand and held a fork to his ribs with the other. She stared him down; he didn’t struggle, but his eyes swung wildly around the area looking for aid.
“Okay there, haha, simmer down,” he said nervously. “Fair enough, fair enough.”
She twisted harder.
“Ow! Okay, loud and clear. Uncle, uncle, I said!” He looked around again, embarrassed. People had stopped eating and watched. Eleanor stifled a smile. Caleb, who had rushed to Kit’s side to help, backed away in recognition that he was not needed. When Kit let him go, Larry slowly stood up and hitched his leg over the bench. He shook out his wrist and walked away, muttering.
Kit pulsed with adrenaline. She was done with all this. The new faces, the names and comments and making nice. She wanted to go home, burrow into her sheets, and sleep for a year. People started talking and eating again.
Caleb approached her, this time with a bandanna, folded and damp, in his outstretched hand. “Here, it’s clean,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, looking herself over. “Am I hurt?”
“No, it’s just you got a little spaghetti on your shirt.”
Kit saw the pulpy smear of sauce on her gray T-shirt, the noodle sticking to it. She took the bandanna and met Caleb’s friendly eyes. There was a loosening, ever so slight, in her chest.
“He shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” Caleb said, his face pink with outrage. “He’s got no right.” Kit was too worked up to respond to him, but she appreciated the show of solidarity. Without mentioning it, Caleb walked them back to the truck and helped Eleanor scale the tall step up into the cab.
“Come see us sometime,” Eleanor said, and Caleb nodded.