“She was Larry’s great-aunt. Since he was the only living relative she had, she left the Tumbleweed to him in hopes that it would give himsome purpose in life—he never could hold his liquor, and he wasn’t any good at poker,” Miz Ada Lou answered.
“Order up!” Rosalie called from the service window.
“He walked away with a pretty good amount in Tucson,” I said. “He had a half-decent poker face—but then again, he might have been slack-jawed from all the Knob Creek whiskey he kept drinking.”
“You are right,” Ada Lou said with a nod. “Reading him was like trying to figure out what a chicken was thinking. The only thing that lit up his eyes was a woman in a short skirt, or money.”
I didn’t say that I had read him very well and that was the reason I owned the place. I also didn’t say that I was trying to figure out whether I was experiencing a waking nightmare.
“Nice to meet you, Miz Ada Lou.” I picked up a bar rag and went back to my job. “I better get busy busing these tables, or Rosalie won’t cook for me again.”
“An owner that works like Matilda did,” Ada Lou said with another nod. “You might find a home here.”
Maybe for six months, but not a single day longer than that. I’m a gambler, not a waitress or even a busboy—or is it buspersonthese days?I loaded dirty dishes and glasses into a bin and wondered where Larry was today. Had he already gambled away everything he had won, including my last five hundred dollars, with that final hand? Or had he turned it into enough to get into a high-stakes game in Vegas?
“Well?” Miz Ada Lou barked.
“What?” I asked.
“Are you going to sell this place or gamble away every dime like Larry did? Gambling is an addiction and will ruin your life.” Her voice had an edge to it.
“That’s getting really personal, and I only just met you,” I shot back as Scarlett brought her order and set it on the table.
“Decisions can be made in a second, and it’s a long drive from Tucson to here. You’ve had a lot of time to think.”
“Yes, I did, but I’ve only been here an hour. We never know what the future might hold. When I sat down at that poker table last night, my plan was to be checked into a hotel in Vegas by tonight, and look where I am.”
Ada Lou took a sip of her coffee. “If anyone would have told me that I’d be living in an RV park in the middle of nowhere when I retired, I would have thought they had lost all their marbles, but here I am. Fate throws us some curveballs, doesn’t it?”
So does Lady Luck.
“Yes, ma’am, it does. Enjoy your brunch.”
Her whisper traveled across the room as I headed for the kitchen: “She won’t be around long.”
“At least she’s willing to help while she’s here. Larry never lifted a finger except to carry out the money Rosie and I made all week,” Scarlett said. “Maybe you can work some of your magic on her like you did on me.”
“Might be a waste of time,” Ada Lou said. “But since she’s helping y’all, I’ll think about it.”
“What else have you got to do?” Scarlett pressed.
“It takes time and patience for miracles or magic to get a hold on a person. You know that, so don’t expect anything in a hurry,” she said.
With a bin of dirty dishes in my hands, I changed my course and walked across the dining room to the window. I set the bin on a nearby table, picked up theFor Salesign, and tossed it into the trash can. Selling the place wasn’t an option right then—not when there was less money in my pocket than the nickels, dimes, and quarters I’d won from Frank when I was just a kid.
I can always buy or make a new sign, and I need these women to trust me if we’re going to work together until I can unload this place.
Rosalie didn’t even look up when the swinging doors squeaked. She just kept peeling potatoes. “Rinse the dirty dishes and then load the dishwasher. We’ll probably run it three times before the lunch run begins.”
“Do you and Scarlett live in that town up north that you mentioned?”
“No, we live in the trailer out back of the Tumbleweed,” she answered without glancing at me. “Larry didn’t stay here very often, but when he did”—she nodded toward a door to the right of the sinks—“he slept in the storage room on a futon.” She finally looked up at me. “The trailer has three bedrooms. Larry cleaned everything out of Matilda’s old room, so you can use it. We share one bathroom and the living area.”
“Is there a bed?”
“Nothing fancy. Just a regular-sized one, same as me and Scarlett have.”
“That will do just fine.” King-sized beds with soft sheets and big pillows were my favorite, but hey, when the sun came up that morning, I was planning to sleep in my car or on top of a table in an empty building. Suddenly, I had a job, a roof over my head, and all the good food I could put away. Maybe Lady Luck had felt sorry for me and thrown me a bone or two.
