He led her up the stairs, across a wooden porch, and into a small entryway where a young woman in jeans stood next to an old classroom lectern that held a reservation book. “Hi there, sweetheart. We need a table for two. Someplace cozy.” He flashed his membership card.
The hostess smiled at Kevin and directed them through a small, spartan dining room that looked as if it had originally served as the living room of the house, but was now furnished with half a dozen square wooden tables, all of which were empty. Two steps led down into an open area with a brick floor, mahogany bar, and large stone fireplace whose hearth held a rush basket full of old magazines. Country music played in the background, but the noise wasn’t deafening, and an assortment of local people sat at the round tables and barstools enjoying their lunches. The hostess led them to a small table tucked near the fireplace.
Jane had never been a fan of bars, but she had to admit this one was cozy. The walls were hung with nostalgic advertising signs, yellowed newspaper stories, and football memorabilia including a blue-and-gold Stars’ jersey emblazoned with the number eighteen. Next to the jersey hung an assortment of framed magazine covers, all of them picturing her husband.
Kevin glanced over at them as he held out a cane-backed chair for her. “As good as the food is, the view sure could spoil your appetite.”
“If you didn’t want that kind of view, you shouldn’t have come to Salvation.”
He snorted as he took his seat. “The whole town’s brainwashed.”
“Grow up, Kevin.”
“I should have known you’d be on his side.”
She laughed at the injured expression on his face. “I’m his wife! What did you expect?”
“So? You’re supposed to be this genius or something, aren’t you? Can’t you be fair-minded?”
She was saved from replying by the arrival of the waitress, who regarded Kevin with rapacious eyes, but he was absorbed in the menu and didn’t seem to notice. “We’ll have a couple of burgers, fries, and beer. Make it Red Dog.”
“Will do.”
“And two side orders of coleslaw.”
Jane could barely resist rolling her eyes at his high-handedness. “Make that a cobb salad for me, no bacon, light with the cheese, dressing on the side, and a glass of skimmed milk.”
Kevin grimaced. “You serious?”
“Brain food.”
“Whatever.”
The waitress left. While they waited for their orders to arrive, Jane listened to a monologue whose central subject seemed to be Kevin Tucker. She bided her time until their food arrived, then she got down to business. “Exactly what are you up to?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you come to Salvation?”
“It’s a nice place.”
“There are a lot of nice places.” She drilled him with her schoolmarm eyes. “Kevin, put down those fries and tell me exactly what you’re doing here.” She realized she felt protective of Cal. How strange, especially considering how upset she was with him.
“Nothing.” He shrugged and returned a handful of fries to their blue plastic basket. “Just having a little fun, that’s all.”
“What do you want from him, other than his job?”
“Why would I want anything from him?”
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She rubbed her thumb along her milk glass. “Sooner or later he’ll have to retire, and then the job’ll be yours. Why can’t you just wait?”
“Because I should have it now!”
“Apparently the coaches don’t agree.”
“They’re fools!”
“You seem to go out of your way to give him a hard time. Why is that? Just because you’re rivals doesn’t mean you have to be enemies.”
His expression grew sullen, making him look younger than his years. “Because I hate his guts.”
“If I hated someone as much as you seem to hate Cal, I’d do my best to stay away from him.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Explain it.”
“I— He’s a real prick, that’s all.”
“And?”
“He’s— I don’t know.” He looked down. Nudged the edge of his plate. “He’s a fairly decent coach.”
“Ahh.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing. Just ahh.”
“You said it like it was supposed to mean something.”
“Does it?”
“Do you seriously think I’d want him coaching me, having him on my ass all the time yelling at me that my arm’s worthless because I don’t have a football brain to go with it? Believe me, that’s the last thing I need. I’m a damned good quarterback without his help.”