Head Over Heels: Drive Me Wild / Midnight Cravings

“So you’re looking to enroll him here for the year.” Luke nodded as if he’d figured out a puzzle. “We should probably move this discussion to my office and start over.”

“This isn’t your office?”

He looked around at the mess. “No. This is the garage. You wanted the main building. It’s just lucky I happened to be here.”

Lucky wasn’t the word that came to Grace’s mind. “This is where I was told to come,” she said, feeling her face grow warm and hating herself for it.

“Someone told you to come to the garage?”

She sighed. “Look, Luke, I’m not here to enroll my son and volunteer for classroom cookie duty, I’m here about the job. So are you going to interview me or not?”

“The job?” he repeated, as if the idea were incomprehensible. “What job?” Though his manner didn’t show it, he must have been rattled, because she’d already said why she was here. “There’s only one job opening here, and that can’t be…driving the bus?”

“Yes.” Grace raised her chin defiantly. “That’s the job I’m here about.”

He laughed. Laughed! “Give me a break.”

“What?”

“Come on. You’re Junior League, not bush league. You can’t be serious.”

“I’m completely serious.” Then she added, under her breath, “How many times am I going to have to say that today?”

A year ago, Grace couldn’t possibly have envisioned herself begging to be a bus driver. Someone could have won a lot of money on this bet.

He studied her for a moment, then said, “I don’t believe it.”

“What, do you think this is a joke? Do you think I just blew into town and decided the first thing I had to do was track you down, take some abuse about my marriage, then pretend to beg you for work? Does that make more sense, Luke, than Bayside Jobs sending me here looking for legitimate employment?”

“Actually, I have a hard time envisioning either scenario. But if Mary did send you here to drive the bus, I can’t even imagine what she was thinking. I’m afraid she had you come out here for nothing.”

“Mary?” Who was Mary?

He turned and looked at her sharply, as though he’d caught her trying to making faces at him. “Mary Lindon. You did say you were sent from Bayside.”

“Y-yes.” Mary? Lord, Grace must have called her Ms. Lindon forty times today and the woman hadn’t once stopped her and said, as almost anyone else would have, “Call me Mary, please.” Grace cleared her throat. “Mary thought I’d be perfect for the job.”

“Really,” he said, but his tone said bull.

Grace nodded. She had to compose herself, had to return the tone of this meeting to something less personal, more professional. “Obviously this is a little awkward, since we know each other. Is there someone else I should speak to instead?”

“Someone higher up, you mean?”

“Well…”

“I’m the headmaster,” he said, flatly. “I’m afraid it’s up to me.”

Headmaster? Oh perfect—she’d really blown it then. “Okay. Well, I came here for an interview, like anyone else off the street, so pretend I’m a stranger.” She drew herself up. “Now, are you going to interview me or not?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw for a moment, before he said, “Sure. If that’s what you want.” He jotted her name on the back of a telephone book on the desk and drew a line under it, then looked at her, obviously trying not to smile. “Tell me how long you’ve been driving school buses now, Grace.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “The job description clearly said that no experience was necessary.”

“Maybe not necessary, but it helps. More qualified drivers will have the edge there.” He made a note of it. “You have a commercial driver’s license?”

She heard a single minor piano chord ring ominously in her brain. “Oh, come on, Luke, what do you think?”

He leaned back in his chair and gave her a lazy look that would once have made her toes curl, but now just ticked her off. “I think you’re applying for a job driving a bus, so you must have at least some vague notion of what that job entails.”

She tried to stay calm. “I think it entails starting the engine and driving from place to place picking up children and bringing them to school, which is pretty much what we, in my old neighborhood, called ‘car pooling.’ How different can it be?”

“For one thing, you need a commercial driver’s license in order to do it here.”

“I can get one, right?”

He gave a half shrug that said wrong. “Have you learned your way around an engine since I last saw you?” he asked. By now his face wore the same bored expectation of a negative response that an airline clerk had asking if you’d packed your own suitcase.

This was no time to give up, Grace reminded herself, however tempting that might be. “I can learn.”

He released the pencil, letting it clatter to the desk. Then he leaned back, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not unlike a hissing bus tire that had just run over the sharp shards of her broken heart. “Grace, I ask you this in all seriousness—do you have any idea what’s involved in taking this job?”

She straightened in her seat and smoothed her jacket, instantly regretting the prissy gesture. As a prospective bus driver, she should have brought a toothpick to chew on or something. “Not entirely.”

“For the license test, you’ll need to know the bus’s engine inside-out. They’re going to pop the hood and have you identify and locate every part of the engine, then they’re going to have you get down on your knees and identify the parts from underneath.” He counted his points triumphantly on his fingers. “Then they’re going to ask you what happens if any of those parts fail or wear out, and they’re going to ask you how to fix them.” He gave a small but meaningful shake of his head. “If you pass all that, then you get to take the driving test.”

It did sound daunting, but not as daunting as another registered letter from the IRS. “And you’re saying you don’t think I can do that?”

“I can’t see it, no.” Clearly he was harboring his old hostility toward her. “Point is,” he went on, “I’m expecting to hire someone who already has.”

“What if you can’t hire someone who already has?” she asked. “What if no one like that applies?”

“They will.”

“When do you need a driver?”

“For summer school. In four weeks.”

“Four weeks!” She threw up her hands. “And you’re only looking to hire someone now?”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“I’m trying to help yours. And mine.” She could tell she was getting nowhere with him. She remembered a chocolate bar for Jimmy that she’d put in her purse earlier, and made a mental note to inhale it the second this miserable meeting ended. “Look, maybe I should talk with someone else about the job, since you obviously can’t be objective about me.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m in the unique position of understanding just how wrong you are for this position.” He sighed and softened his voice. “Grace, you’d be miserable. Why are you even here?”

“Because I need work,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “And this is the only possibility in town.”

“But it’s not a possibility.”

“It is.” She knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. She was desperate! “You can teach me whatever it is I need to know, and I can take the test and do the job so quietly you won’t even have to think about it again. I might be the best damn bus driver you ever had.”

“And you might hate it and quit after two days.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Well, you’ve already said you’re leaving town next year. I’m not hiring a lifeguard for the summer, I need a bus driver. I need someone who’s going to take the job, do it well and keep it for more than a single school year.” His gaze grew penetrating. “This is nothing personal.”

“Yes, it is!” She jabbed a finger in the air at him. “Personal is exactly what it is. You’re obviously holding something against me from a hundred years ago—”

“Not true.”

“—but if you think it’s easy for me to sit here and beg you for a job, you’re mistaken. If I can get past our history enough to work together, surely you can.”

“We don’t have a history.”

“Of course we have a history! We’ve known each other for eighteen years.” A small hurt flared in her, like a match lit on a windy night. How could he act as if they were total strangers? Maybe they hadn’t always gotten along, but once or twice in their past Grace had gotten the feeling that they had connected on a very deep level.

One instance in particular came to mind.

But now it was as if he was so eager to distance himself from her that he would even go so far as to distance himself from the facts. So she decided to remind him of those facts. “We went to high school together, Luke. You were my husband’s best friend, for Pete’s sake. That’s history.”

“That,” he agreed, “is history.”

She hesitated, unsure as to whether he was agreeing with her about the whole concept or if he was making the point that his friendship with Michael was history, as in kaput.

Because she knew that.

She remembered when it had happened.

Before she could think of something to say, Luke spoke again. “It’s irrelevant whether we have a history or not, because this is about qualifications. And you don’t have them. At least not the right ones.”

“I’ll bet I have better qualifications than most people you interview for this job,” she argued. “Have most of your applicants taken the Red Cross CPR course for infants and children? Can most of your applicants arbitrate an argument between two ten-year-olds? Can any of your other applicants tell the difference between the Robo-Crusier-Insect-Man and the Auto-Alien Transformer?”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You think being able to make that distinction will come in handy?”

Her gaze was direct and serious. “You just never know.”

He studied her quietly for a moment, then, with a small nod, he said, “That’s true. But it doesn’t change my mind.”

“What would?” she asked plaintively.

He took a deep breath. A deep dismissive breath. “Look, I’ve got to admire your determination, but I don’t see this as a good fit. So I’ll keep your number on file and—”

“And what?”

He sighed. “And hope you forget this whole idea.”

“I can’t afford to,” she said, quietly but firmly. “I need this.”

“You’re not half prepared even to take the test, and like I said, summer school begins in just four weeks.”

“But I can learn, like I said.” She raised her chin and challenged him. “Besides, you’re ignoring some rather obvious extenuating circumstances.”

“Am I?”

Grace gathered her energy. “I won’t pretend to be able to read your mind, Luke, but I know you well enough to tell when you’re cornered.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She continued, “You need a driver. As you yourself have just pointed out, there are only a few short weeks until school starts, and—” she looked around the room “—I don’t see a lot of people lining up for this position, no matter how optimistic you may be about that happening as soon as I leave. I need a job. And while I may not have the exact qualifications you’re looking for, I’m willing to learn whatever I need to in order to satisfy your requirements. It seems obvious to me what you need to do.”

There was a long silence during which she trembled under his familiar gaze.

Finally, Luke broke the silence.

“You’re absolutely right. It’s very clear what I have to do.”

Hope surged in her. “Good.”

Luke stood up and gave her a cool appraisal. “Thanks for coming by, Grace. I’m sorry this didn’t work out, but good luck finding something else. And welcome home.”

Chapter Three

Luke stared at the closed door in disbelief.

Grace Perigon.

No, make that Grace Bowes, trophy wife of his high-school partner in crime—it was hard to call Michael a friend—and the only girl who’d ever really gotten under his skin.

Even now, with the perspective of so many years, it was hard for him to say just why she’d gotten under his skin. Sometimes he’d thought he’d hated her. Other times…well, other times, he’d thought maybe it was the opposite.

One time—one short, stupid night—he’d been sure it was the opposite.

But that had passed quickly. And in the end, he’d watched her leave town without looking back while he, all in all, had to say he was glad to see her go. As Michael had pointed out to him, not so subtly, he didn’t have what she was looking for in a guy: money, position and the potential for rapid advancement.

Not that he’d ever let Michael, or anyone else, know of his feelings for Grace.

Michael had just seemed to pick up on the situation himself. It wasn’t that Michael was particularly perceptive, or so spiritually bonded to Grace that he perceived anything extraordinary about her, it was only that he always believed everyone wanted what he had. And he was ace at keeping what was his, whether it was a car or a girl.

Michael Bowes had somehow even managed to get Blue Moon High School to retire his football jersey at the end of his unremarkable varsity run.

The strange thing was that Luke had never known Michael to let go of any of his prized possessions, even after he’d completely lost interest in them. Once in high school Luke had spotted a broken Louisville Slugger in the back of Michael’s garage when they were working on his vintage ’65 Mustang convertible…and Grace was a much finer prize than that Louisville Slugger.

It was hard to imagine Michael letting go of her. Luke had been surprised about it ever since he’d heard the news several months back that they were divorcing. At first he’d half expected Grace to come back to town, but when she hadn’t come right away, he figured she never would. He’d figured he was safe.

He’d figured wrong.

* * *

Turned down for a job as a bus driver.

That was bad enough, but she’d been turned down by Luke Stewart, who she never thought she’d have to see again…much less under circumstances like these.

She’d made a mistake with Luke, there was no doubt about it. A mistake, it seemed, he’d never forget. Or forgive. She’d made a bad bargain for her future, and, in the process, wounded his male pride. It was nothing more than a glancing blow to his ego, but he was still willing to use it against her, even under circumstances as dire as those she faced now.

Her life couldn’t get a lot worse than this, Grace thought, kicking a dead locust from the path in front of her and feeling mean. She was living at her mother’s again, with no money and no skills to get a job, even a lousy job. That was another bad bargain she’d made: the housewife bargain. Believing her future to be secure, if not deliriously happy, she’d concentrated her efforts on making a comfortable home for her family. In so doing, she’d let technology and the job market pass her by. Now she could barely even see them in the distance.

So much for saving for her future.

It was beginning to seem entirely possible that she’d be stuck in this sandpit of a town for the rest of her life. She’d become one of those wacky old ladies whom everyone referred to as “Miz Grace.” Except for the kids who would call her dis-Grace, and who would ring her doorbell late at night and run.

She walked across the pretty green campus and thought ruefully of how nice it would have been for Jimmy to go to school here, just like she had done herself. Blue Moon Bay was a far cry from Morris, New Jersey. Here you could see horses from the school room window instead of traffic. Jimmy would love that.

When she got to the small gravel parking lot, she noticed a familiar older man getting out of a shining Lincoln. It only took her a moment to place him.

“Mr. Bailey?” Fred Bailey had been a friend of her parents for years. A lifetime bachelor, he was a big lawyer with offices in D.C. and Annapolis. He’d lived in Blue Moon Bay since he was a young man. In fact, he’d grown up with her mother, and gone to school with her through twelfth grade. They’d even dated briefly before he’d gone off to law school at Princeton.

He’d moved back to Blue Moon Bay six years later, after Grace’s parents had married, and made the 90-minute commute to his offices, remaining a pillar of Blue Moon Bay society. Though Grace hadn’t thought about Fred Bailey in a very long time, seeing him brought back a flood of warm memories. He was so much like her father that she had to fight an impulse to run into his arms. She could imagine how he would smell, of peppermint and pipe smoke. Just thinking about it made her feel more relaxed than she had for months.

“Mr. Bailey,” she said again.

He turned to her, his expression blank.

Her heart sank.

“It’s Grace Bowes…Perigon,” she said, fighting back a sudden overwhelming weakness in her limbs.

His face broke into a wide smile. “Grace? Good heavens, I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” He patted his breast pocket and took out a glasses case. As soon as he put his spectacles on, his eyes grew wide behind the thick glass. “So it is you!” He opened his arms, and she gave him a hug. “Welcome home, child. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you ever since I heard you were coming back. How long has it been?”

“Since Dad’s funeral.”

“My goodness, that’s a long time. Look at you, just as lovely as ever. Your father would be so proud.” He smiled again and clucked his tongue against his teeth. “I still miss the old fellow.”

She smiled, and her chest felt full but her eyes burned again. “Me too.”

“Well, what are you doing here?” Fred Bailey asked. “Not coming back to school, I expect.” He chuckled.

“Apparently not,” she said, a touch wryly.

“Beg pardon?”

She shrugged. “Well, I was here to apply for a job, but apparently I’m not properly qualified.” She resisted the childish urge to say, That mean, spiteful Luke Stewart wouldn’t give it to me.

Mr. Bailey’s brow lowered. “What job? I didn’t think there were any teaching positions open.”

Grace cleared her throat lightly. “It wasn’t a teaching job.”

“Not teaching?” He wasn’t going to let this go. “Was it administrative?”

“It was driving. The bus. Driving the school bus.” There. She’d said it. She’d admitted out loud that she’d been turned down as a bus driver.

It felt even worse now.

“Driving the school bus?” the older man repeated, with the same incredulity he might have shown if she’d said she wanted to become a trapeze artist. “That’s no job for a Perigon. Let’s go talk to Luke Stewart and see if we can’t find something reasonable for you here.” He took her arm and started leading her to the building she’d just left.

“No. Please.” Her reaction was too strong. He dropped her arm, startled. She smiled. “I mean, the driving position really was the one I wanted. It had flexible hours and would allow me to be with Jimmy when there was no school.” She tried to imagine Luke’s reaction if she reappeared with a big gun like Fred Bailey, demanding that a new position of some kind be created for her. “But it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t think I’ll be able to get the license on time.” She didn’t know why she felt like she had to defend Luke’s decision suddenly.

“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, I must confess I don’t know much about that.”

“It’s okay. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll find something else.”

“I’m sure you will.” Mr. Bailey looked at his watch. “I must go. I’ve gotten so caught up in talking to you, I forgot I had a board meeting. I want to see more of you now. Welcome back, Gracie.”

The endearment took the edge off her anger toward Luke. Nobody had called her Gracie since her father had died.

“Thanks, Mr. Bailey.” The lump in her throat expanded like a sponge. It was silly to feel a melancholy nostalgia for her childhood, but she did. She watched Fred Bailey walk away, noticing his gait was now that of an old man, a little creaky, stiff in the knees. It was then that she really realized that home hadn’t just waited for her, unchanging, while she went off and started a new life up north. Things had moved on here, too. People had died, grown older; some had moved away years ago, never to be seen again.

Thomas Wolfe was right, Grace thought, you can’t go home again.

But sometimes you have to.

* * *

“You’ll find something,” Grace’s mother, Dot Perigon, said, patting her daughter’s shoulder sympathetically. “If you like, I could speak to some of your father’s old friends and colleagues. They all loved Daddy so much, I’m sure at least one of them could find something for you to do.”

Grace shook her head and fiddled with a sweating glass of iced tea her mother had put on the table in front of her. There was a twist of lemon and a mint leaf in it, just the way she had always made it. “I’m desperate, but not so desperate that I’m willing to take a job at someone else’s expense. It’s one thing when there’s a job that needs to be filled—” she thought angrily of Luke “—but quite another when someone just creates a position as a favor to an old friend, then has to pay for it.”

“But anyone would be lucky to have you around, helping out.”

“Only if they needed the help, Mom. And I think most of Daddy’s friends have got highly qualified personnel working in their offices already.”

Dot sighed and topped Grace’s glass off with tea from a pitcher. “All right, dear, but I’d be glad to speak with Fred Bailey. Or anyone else,” she hastened to add. “If you change your mind.”

Grace smiled. “Actually, I spoke with Mr. Bailey today.”

Dot looked surprised. “You did?”

“Yes, he was on his way to the school when I was leaving.”

“What did he say?” Dot asked sharply.

Grace was afraid she heard, in her mother’s voice, a determination to speak with her old friend on Grace’s behalf. And Grace definitely didn’t want that. “As a matter of fact, he did offer to twist some arms for me,” she said, deflecting the idea she hoped, before it could take root. “But I told him no thanks.”

“You did?”

“I had to,” Grace stressed. “I don’t want charity.”

“I understand. Still, it was very nice of him to offer.” Dot looked quite pleased. “Very nice.”

“Yes, it was.” Grace took a long draw of the cold tea. “You know, it was almost like having Daddy around for a moment. When I saw him, it brought all of that back to me.”

“I know what you mean,” Dot mused, with a small smile.

“So you’ve known him since high school, right? Mr. Bailey, I mean.”

“Yes, why?”

Grace stirred her tea thoughtfully. “I was just wondering why he never got married.” But she was really thinking, again, of Luke. How come he hadn’t gotten married? Was he going to end up like Mr. Bailey, a lifelong bachelor in Blue Moon Bay?

“I couldn’t say,” Dot answered, looking out the window. “Looks like Jimmy’s having a good time with the Bonds’ old spaniel out there.”

Grace took a cookie off the plate her mother had set out. “He loves dogs.”

“Maybe you should get him one.”

“Mom! I can barely take care of the two of us as it is, despite Michael’s meager monthly payments.” It was then that it truly hit her. She had to take care of herself and her son, and if things continued the way they were, she wasn’t going to be able to. She’d have to…she didn’t even know what she’d have to do. Go on welfare? She shuddered at the thought. “What if I could find a job as a cocktail waitress or something over in Ocean City? Do you think you could keep Jimmy at night?”

Dot frowned. “I don’t want to say no to you, honey, but…well, I sometimes have things to do in the evenings. I just can’t commit to staying home according to your schedule.” She assumed a pleasant expression and added, “But, as I told you, he’s welcome to stay with me any time during the day.”