Read Online Red’s Hot Honky-Tonk Bar by Pamela Morsi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pamela Morsi
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everything. “So where is this family-friendly property of yours?”
“Not far from here,” he answered. “It’ll be a really quick commute for you.”
“And you’re sure the school is okay?” Red asked, thinking again of the nearby Irish Flats neighborhood.
“It’s excellent. I went to elementary there, and see how well I turned out.”
He was joking, but Red detected some hedging on his part. There was something he just wasn’t saying.
“We’d better catch up with the kids,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I’m getting pretty hungry myself.”
“I haven’t said yes yet,” Red pointed out, making no move to leave.
Cam reviewed the obvious. “You can’t keep these kids above the bar,” he said. “There’s not enough room and it’s too busy and noisy at night. If you’re in my house, you won’t actually have to move out. You can just live in my place with my stuff. It’s a very good idea.”
She nodded. “But there is something about this that you’re not telling me.”
He shrugged. “There is,” he admitted. “But it’s not a bad thing. It actually might be a good thing.”
She waited, not even bothering to voice the question.
“My house is in Alamo Heights,” he said.
“Alamo Heights?” Her tone was incredulous.
8
A lamo Heights had the distinction of being the first suburb of San Antonio. At the turn of the century the downtown streetcar line had been extended to the area and by the 1920s it was an incorporated city. For the most part, it weathered good times and bad a bit better than the city of San Antonio that surrounded it. Now it was considered a tony, upper-class enclave for architects, lawyers and old San Antonians who wanted to be close to downtown but near the country club.
“Look, I know I’m not the most sensitive or experienced grandmother in America,” Red told Cam. “But even I know you don’t plunk down a couple of little brown kids into white-bread heaven.”
“It’s not really like that,” he insisted. “We have African-Americans. We have Hispanics.”
Red nodded. “Rich African-Americans. Rich Hispanics.”
“Just see the place before you judge,” he insisted.
Red didn’t want to see the place. She didn’t care to take the time to judge. The smart thing to do, she was certain, was reject it outright. Cam was correct in his estimation of her.She didn’t like to accept gifts from men she was sleeping with. That sort of thing always ended badly. She was sure of that. But looking at the short-term future for herself and the kids, Cam’s solution did seem like a good one.
She didn’t want to have to drive too far. A temporary trade of her beloved CRX for Bridge’s camo-Prius was the smart thing to do. It got good gas mileage, but still driving to and from work was going to be a new expense, along with so many others.
The Hearts Apart organization at the base had helped her locate a babysitter, a young mom with a nursing newborn. She needed a job while her husband was deployed, but wanted to bring her baby along. It was perfect for her to supervise Olivia and Daniel in the evenings when the bar was open.
And, of course, there was the upcoming school year. The Family Assistance Center had all the statistics on the local schools and Alamo Heights was highly ranked.
So a few days later, with the children still sulking, Red loaded everyone into the car and headed up Broadway.
At least Olivia was now speaking to her, though the tearful goodbye with her dad could still be heard in her every word. Daniel was only speaking Spanish, so as they drove northward, it fell to Cam to make most of the conversation.
Red was actually surprised at how well he was doing. She typically thought of him as the strong, silent type. Chattiness had never seemed to be his strong suit, but he was certainly making an effort with the kids. She was not sure, however, that asking lots of questions about their big day with their dad was exactly the way to go. As she
“Not far from here,” he answered. “It’ll be a really quick commute for you.”
“And you’re sure the school is okay?” Red asked, thinking again of the nearby Irish Flats neighborhood.
“It’s excellent. I went to elementary there, and see how well I turned out.”
He was joking, but Red detected some hedging on his part. There was something he just wasn’t saying.
“We’d better catch up with the kids,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I’m getting pretty hungry myself.”
“I haven’t said yes yet,” Red pointed out, making no move to leave.
Cam reviewed the obvious. “You can’t keep these kids above the bar,” he said. “There’s not enough room and it’s too busy and noisy at night. If you’re in my house, you won’t actually have to move out. You can just live in my place with my stuff. It’s a very good idea.”
She nodded. “But there is something about this that you’re not telling me.”
He shrugged. “There is,” he admitted. “But it’s not a bad thing. It actually might be a good thing.”
She waited, not even bothering to voice the question.
“My house is in Alamo Heights,” he said.
“Alamo Heights?” Her tone was incredulous.
8
A lamo Heights had the distinction of being the first suburb of San Antonio. At the turn of the century the downtown streetcar line had been extended to the area and by the 1920s it was an incorporated city. For the most part, it weathered good times and bad a bit better than the city of San Antonio that surrounded it. Now it was considered a tony, upper-class enclave for architects, lawyers and old San Antonians who wanted to be close to downtown but near the country club.
“Look, I know I’m not the most sensitive or experienced grandmother in America,” Red told Cam. “But even I know you don’t plunk down a couple of little brown kids into white-bread heaven.”
“It’s not really like that,” he insisted. “We have African-Americans. We have Hispanics.”
Red nodded. “Rich African-Americans. Rich Hispanics.”
“Just see the place before you judge,” he insisted.
Red didn’t want to see the place. She didn’t care to take the time to judge. The smart thing to do, she was certain, was reject it outright. Cam was correct in his estimation of her.She didn’t like to accept gifts from men she was sleeping with. That sort of thing always ended badly. She was sure of that. But looking at the short-term future for herself and the kids, Cam’s solution did seem like a good one.
She didn’t want to have to drive too far. A temporary trade of her beloved CRX for Bridge’s camo-Prius was the smart thing to do. It got good gas mileage, but still driving to and from work was going to be a new expense, along with so many others.
The Hearts Apart organization at the base had helped her locate a babysitter, a young mom with a nursing newborn. She needed a job while her husband was deployed, but wanted to bring her baby along. It was perfect for her to supervise Olivia and Daniel in the evenings when the bar was open.
And, of course, there was the upcoming school year. The Family Assistance Center had all the statistics on the local schools and Alamo Heights was highly ranked.
So a few days later, with the children still sulking, Red loaded everyone into the car and headed up Broadway.
At least Olivia was now speaking to her, though the tearful goodbye with her dad could still be heard in her every word. Daniel was only speaking Spanish, so as they drove northward, it fell to Cam to make most of the conversation.
Red was actually surprised at how well he was doing. She typically thought of him as the strong, silent type. Chattiness had never seemed to be his strong suit, but he was certainly making an effort with the kids. She was not sure, however, that asking lots of questions about their big day with their dad was exactly the way to go. As she
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