A hopeless rodeo, p.2
A Hopeless Rodeo, page 2
Granny walked toward us in her gray bathrobe, and I put my finger to my lips to keep her quiet. Before she could blow the surprise, I blurted out, “Why don’t you take it off and show us what you’ve got?”
I felt all the air escape from Katie’s lungs, and I thought she was going to have a seizure right on the spot. By some miracle, Granny said nothing, but her face said plenty. She was still embarrassed, which probably made what I was doing worse. Okay, it definitely made it worse. What can I say? Sometimes I just can’t help myself. And so, as Granny took off her robe, I pulled my hand away from Katie’s eyes, and both of us saw that Granny hadn’t gone and purchased herself a bathing suit. Nope, my eighty-some-year-old grandmother, a woman who had lived the hardest life you can possibly imagine, was wearing nothing but an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini.
“Well?” Granny asked as Katie started to cough and choke and gasp for air. I smacked her on the back, thinking that this would be a very difficult thing to explain to her husband and children if she happened to die. While trying to make sure my best friend didn’t suffer a cardiac event, I used every other bit of strength and composure I had to keep my promise to help Granny.
“So . . .” I started, trying to find the right words.
“So . . .” Granny repeated. “What do you think?”
“You’re going with a bikini?”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
Katie seemed to be stabilizing and turned my way with a look of total and complete shock.
“Like I texted you, Katie, we have ourselves an emergency.”
“I can see that,” Katie managed to say.
“Granny and Bess are going on a vacation to Mexico, and Granny needs our help picking out a bathing suit that flatters her.”
Katie swallowed hard as she turned back to look at Granny. We both did. It was a lot to take in. Like I said, I’m not sure if I’d ever seen my granny in anything other than a Boise State sweatshirt. Not ever. Then to see her now, like this—it was a lot indeed.
“It’s just that you typically don’t wear bathing suits,” I pointed out.
“Don’t you think I know that? But we’re going to a fancy resort in Mexico. I want to fit in.”
“And what?” Katie said in such a way that suggested her mouth didn’t fully work. “You thought a string bikini was the best way to fit in?”
Granny smiled. “Technically, this isn’t even a string bikini. In fact, they call it a thong. Want to see why?”
Before our brains could register what Granny meant and then signal our bodies to do anything about it, the damage was already done. She spun around to show us exactly why this piece of clothing was called a thong. She bounced her ancient tuchus up and down and said, “It feels like I’ve got nothing more than dental floss up my rump.”
Katie held on to me tightly and whispered in my ear. “If we make it out of this alive and with our eyesight still intact, I want you to know something. As God is my witness, Hope Walker, someday—I don’t know when, but someday, when you least expect it—I’m going to get you back for this. I can promise you that.”
CHAPTER 3
“Girding up our loins” is probably the term the Bible would have used for what Katie and I did next, though the more modern phrase was probably something like “We sucked it up.” What we were exposed to over the next half hour was a constant parade of two-piece bikinis that would have been considered obscene on the superest of supermodels. But on my grandmother? Let’s just say that whatever Katie did to me someday for revenge probably wouldn’t be enough.
When Granny walked out of the bathroom in the final swimsuit, we were pleasantly stunned to see her wearing a pretty one-piece complete with a modest skirt. It was even in her favorite color, royal blue. Or more specifically, Boise State blue.
“It’s perfect!” Katie blurted out as she stood up to admire the obvious winner of this contest.
Granny frowned. “I’m not so sure.”
“And why not?” I said, standing up to join Katie in a unified front. “It is perfect.”
“Perfectly plain, if you ask me,” Granny said.
I wanted to say something like, “Well, I didn’t ask you because you clearly can’t be trusted to dress yourself, and if you go out in public wearing any of those bikinis, not only are you likely to be arrested, but you will haunt the dreams of children for the rest of their natural lives.” But I didn’t because Granny, much like me, was a thick-headed stubborn mule. And if I boxed her in like that, she would not only come out swinging, but she might wear an actual piece of dental floss just to spite me. So, I took a more measured approach.
“Hmm,” I said, trying to look like I was really studying the situation. “‘Plain’ wasn’t the word that came to my mind. ‘Classic’ was more like it. In fact, it reminds me of something . . . or rather, someone. An actress from one of those old movies.”
I tapped my finger against my chin as if I was working hard to retrieve a memory, but of course, I knew exactly where I was heading with this. I remembered a particular conversation she and I had after watching To Catch a Thief when I was in high school. Granny had lamented the state of the world and the fact that there just weren’t that many women anymore with the beauty and class of Grace Kelly.
I snapped my fingers. “You know, the one who starred in that movie we liked so much with Cary Grant. The thief one. What was her name again?”
Granny’s eyes widened. “Grace Kelly?”
I smiled. “That’s the one. In this bathing suit, you throw off a real Grace Kelly vibe.”
“I do?” Granny asked. Then she turned to Katie for confirmation. “You think I look like Grace Kelly?”
Thankfully, Katie so desperately wanted this to end that she was willing to agree to anything. She nodded. “Now that Hope says it, I agree, though Grace Kelly wasn’t who I first had in mind. I was thinking more of Maureen O’Hara.”
Direct hit. Katie had been around my granny enough to know that while Grace Kelly may have personified beauty and class, the just-as-beautiful but way more fiery Maureen O’Hara was Granny’s real favorite. Granny clearly liked Katie’s response because for the first time since she had broken into my apartment that morning, she smiled.
“Maureen O’Hara. Now, she was quite a woman.”
“Just like you, Granny. Just like you. Well, I think we’ve got ourselves a winner. Would you like me to take those other suits back for you?”
“What for?” she asked. “I’m going to need more than one suit for a Mexican beach vacation.”
Panic flashed across Katie’s face—the motherly part of her that wanted to protect not just her own children, but all children everywhere.
“I think you can get by with just the one,” Katie assured her. “That’s what most women do. Buy a new suit for the summer and then wear it the entire season.”
“I don’t know,” Granny said. “I’m just not sure this suit sends out the right message. Not like those other suits do.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. By her lack of response or movement, neither did Katie. And though I did not want to pursue this line of investigation, I could see no way around it. I braced myself. “And what exactly is the message you’re trying to send out?”
Granny frowned. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s not like I’d wear a thong because it’s comfortable.”
I said nothing. Katie said nothing. In fact, I’m quite certain she was holding her breath and closing her eyes.
Granny threw her hands up in frustration. “Availability! Bess and I aren’t going down to some Mexican beach just to sip Mai Tais. I can make much better Mai Tais myself. Hell,” she said while turning to Katie, “that boy of yours, Dominic—he can make better Mai Tais than I’ll probably get on my trip.”
“Excuse me?” Katie said, now fully reengaged in the conversation. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a long story,” Granny said. "My point is this. You girls, both of you—well, you have something Bess and I don’t. You’ve got yourselves men. Fine men, in fact. And well, I haven’t had a man in my life in so long, I can hardly remember what that’s like. And so, Bess and I figured, why not give it a shot? Get back in the game. Throw our lines in the water, so to speak. The problem is, we can’t do that here in Hopeless. We know everybody and everybody knows us, and quite frankly, we don’t want them knowing our business. Not that sort of business, if you catch my meaning.”
Unfortunately, I did catch her meaning. And although the thought of Granny trolling a Mexican beach for a man made me more than uncomfortable, I also had great empathy for what she was saying and for what she had gone through. She may have been my grandmother, and she may have been older than Methuselah, but that didn’t stop her from being a woman.
I reached out my hand to hers. “I get what you’re saying. I really do.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t still love your grandfather.”
“I know that.”
“He’s the love of my life, Hope. Always has been. Always will be. It’s just . . . even though I have Bess and the bar and you and this town, I still get lonely from time to time. Bess and I were hoping we could go someplace one last time. Someplace where I don’t have to be Granny, if you know what I mean.”
I shrugged. “I feel like you can accomplish all of that with this beautiful and tasteful blue bathing suit.”
Granny nodded. “Fair enough. But let me ask you this question. If I had to take one more suit along, which one would you choose?”
They say that a true dilemma in life is when you have to choose between two good things or two bad things. And so it was that Katie and I spent the next five minutes trying to choose between five very bad bikinis. But Granny insisted and I knew it was pointless to fight her, so while she went back into my bathroom to change into her usual uniform of blue jeans and sweatshirt, Katie and I chose a fire-engine red two-piece bikini that would somehow have to suffice.
Granny thanked us both for all our help. A still-stunned Katie took her keys out of her purse and said she had to get back home so Chris could run his errand. Granny responded with a smile and checked her watch.
“Thanks for the reminder. I almost forgot about our meeting.”
The confusion that washed over Katie’s face was shared by me.
“I’m sorry,” Katie said. “What do you mean, our meeting?”
“You know, the meeting between me and Chris.”
“And why exactly is my husband meeting with you?” Katie asked. “Is he trying to get you to carry his beer?”
“As a matter of fact, he is.” Now it was Granny’s turn to be confused. “Wait a second. He didn’t tell you about our arrangement?”
Katie stiffened up. “No, Granny, he most certainly did not. What arrangement?”
Granny laughed. “Uh-oh. You really should talk to your husband about this.”
“Obviously,” Katie said. “But at the moment, I’m talking to you, so spill the beans.”
Granny shrugged as if it was pointless to keep stonewalling any longer. “I just assumed you knew. Which, apparently, you did not. I guess you’re going to find out soon enough. Just don’t be angry at Chris, okay? He’s a good boy. And he makes really good beer.”
“Granny!” Katie said, her impatience just about at its limit.
“Fine. Chris wanted to get his beer into our bar. And it’s good and all, but I just didn’t know. We’re not really the type of establishment that serves a lot of craft beer. But your husband was persistent, so I made him a deal. I agreed to sell his beer in the Library permanently as long as he agreed to run my bar while Bess and I are on vacation.”
“Run your bar? Chris is going to run your bar?”
“Actually, from what he told me, it’ll be a family affair. Remember that part about Dominic making really good Mai Tais? That boy is a natural bartender, if you ask me. And I’ve seen you wait tables with the best of them. No, Katie, from what I understand, the whole Rodgers clan is going to be running my bar.”
“M-my entire family? For the rest of the day?”
“The rest of the day? That’s funny. I ain’t going to Mexico for just one day. Nope, you get the privilege of doing it for the next two weeks!”
CHAPTER 4
It was bad. And by “it,” I mean the nuclear meltdown Katie had once she processed the news that she, in addition to her husband, was not only in charge of feeding and protecting three small humans, but also doing something they had never, ever done before—operating a bar. And just when she was starting to calm down, Granny hit her with one more piece of unexpected news.
“I almost forgot. The bar will be a little busier than normal.”
Katie snapped her head up, hands pressing against her temples as if trying to massage all of this away. “And why would that be?” she asked with all sorts of hatred in her voice.
Granny either didn’t notice Katie’s tone or more likely didn’t care. She flashed us both a preposterously wide smile. “On account of the rodeo, of course. It’s usually our busiest week of the year. Usually the rowdiest, too. Those cowboys and cowgirls like them some beer, but boy oh boy, they love them some whiskey. Lucky for you, there’s no chance of running out. Bess stocked extra just in case. And yes, before you ask, there’s plenty of Pendelton. Fun fact—I learned how to make old-fashioneds at a bar in Pendleton, Oregon, when I was nineteen years old. I bet you didn’t know that, now did you, Katie?”
I was betting Katie didn’t hear that. Her eyes were darting back and forth as if she was doing all sorts of calculations to figure out just how much this was all going to suck. And then her eyes came back into focus, and she spun on Granny.
“Did you say ‘lucky for me’? Do you really consider me lucky that you found a way to hoodwink my husband into two weeks of free labor just so you could go on vacation?”
“Like I said, if he does a good job, we’ll serve his beer permanently here at the Library. I think that’s more than fair.”
Katie glared at her. “I bet you do. Let me ask you this. Did you happen to share with Chris that this was going to be the busiest week of the year on account of the rodeo?”
Granny scratched her chin while she thought it over.
“Let me save you the effort. I’m sure you did not. Which means, you . . . you hustled Chris.”
“I wouldn’t say I hustled the boy so much as I may have strategically forgotten to supply him with every single solitary detail.”
“So, you admit it?”
Granny shrugged.
“Why, you no good . . .”
Granny’s face hardened at once. “You forget who you’re speaking to, child. You spent as much time in my house growing up as you did your own. I probably fed you half of your dinners throughout high school. Plus, if I’m not mistaken, I not only bought your first tampon, but I’m the one who told you that you had not just been shot from a high-powered sniper rifle and you were only having a period.”
Katie folded both arms across her chest. “Your point?”
“Yes, I didn’t give Chris all the information. And yes, it’s because I was worried he wouldn’t do it if I did, and yes, that would have been inconvenient for me, but I would have found someone else to do it but I didn’t want someone else to do it, and do you know why?”
“Why?” Katie asked.
“Because your husband makes terrific beer.”
Katie looked at me, confused. Then I looked at Granny, confused.
“I thought you hated craft beer,” I said.
“I don’t hate craft beer. And you know why? Because it’s beer. What I hate is some of the people who make craft beer. Not Chris, mind you—he’s a nice young man. Normal. Not like some of those weirdies who come around here trying to pawn off their fancy brews on me. You know what Chris did? He just made good beer and kept trying to figure out how to make it better. And you know what, and I’ll be damned to admit it? That husband of yours—well, he makes just about the best beer around.”
“Around where?” Katie asked.
“Around anywhere.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Katie, really. I want him to run the bar for the next two weeks because—and I’m not sure if you noticed this—that boy hates selling irrigation equipment. But he does it because he’s a man, and men do what it takes to support their families. What I’m saying is, that husband of yours is a good man.”
“He is? I mean, yeah. You bet. He is.”
“But he’s a good man who works a job that crushes his soul, so I wanted to give him a chance to try something else for a change. For the next two weeks, he’s got a chance to serve his beer to ordinary folks and see how much they love something he created with his own two hands. That, Katie Rodgers, is what I was trying to do.”
“But it’s still gonna suck really bad, isn’t it?” Katie said.
“First time running a bar, and it just so happens to be Rodeo Week? Oh, yeah—it’s gonna be terrible. But don’t worry about it—Hope is your secret weapon. Tonight when the hooligans start showing up, she’ll be there to give you all the guidance you need.”
“I’ll help Katie and Chris as much as I can. Unfortunately . . .”
Katie glared at me. “Don’t you dare ‘unfortunately’ me.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve got a hot date tonight with Alex at the rodeo.”
Katie shook her head. “Well, this is just great. My good-for-nothing former best friend who just so happens to be the granddaughter of my good-for-nothing former surrogate grandmother. No offense to either of you.”
“None taken,” Granny and I said in unison.
“And now you’re off to some rodeo with Hot Alex, getting to watch a bunch of hot cowboys do a bunch of hot cowboy things while I’m stuck in this hellhole—again, no offense—trying to run a bar and raise my children. If that isn’t the crap topping on this crap sandwich, I don’t know what is.”
