Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (chapter books to read to 5 year olds TXT) 📕

Jason tugged her present from under his coat and slid it under the tree, right in front where she'd find it first. He placed John and Willis’s presents close to hers, easy to see.

Mom and her moron friend had stepped halfway down into the living room, watching Jason.

The poop-head smiled. “Come on, kid. I’m taking you two down to Bridgeport for dinner.”

KIRBY KEPT HIS TRANSMISSION in low gear and took his time driving down to Pickle Meadow. “Sonora Pass Highway, ha!” A drop into the abyss on one side, a stone wall on the other, clouds pressing all the way down to pavement, visibility twenty to thirty yards. “Jesus!” A narrow, slippery ribbon of pure panic.

Carolyn said, “Our snowplow laid down some salt. They spread that on River Road, in the village and on our driveway. It seems to work pretty well so I asked him to put plenty of it down out here.”

“Thanks. A little salt saves lives, maybe mine and yours.”

The kid sat in the back seat, reading some book on his Android or playing a video game.

Who cares? 

“They had an awful accident up here about a month ago. A surprise storm came in with the highway still open. They never had time to clear it. I don’t think they ever put salt down up here. They just close the highway and we’re snowed in for a couple of months.”

“I don’t know how you can live like this, snowed in every winter. Why not live in town during the winter?”

“Sonora?”

“No, no, no.  I mean L.A.”

“We have responsibilities, like I said. And, we like the school here.”

They rounded the wide curve at the bottom of the grade and Kirby pushed the gear lever into drive. He accelerated and reached the marine base in about two minutes. “John never told me he grew up near this base. These guys are genuine bad asses.”

Oops, that stupid kid.

He glanced in his mirror, not even listening. “John took his mountain warfare training here before they shipped out.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. It was probably a snap for him.”

They drove past the guard shack at the low end of the base and started down the grade toward 395, large pine trees hugging both sides of the road, snow piled high. They stopped at the intersection, Kirby glanced both ways, turned right and gunned it toward Bridgeport, eating up highway fast, a black ribbon in a world of white.

She stared out at non-scenery.

The kid had fallen asleep in back.

Kirby needed to break through her ice and get into her pants. She wasn’t the type to sleep around. She was the marrying type.

Just what I need. 

Sex before marriage always convinced her type to say yes. They couldn’t handle the guilt. Her money would put Kirby back on top.

She sat there looking out the window, watching white zoom past all the way into Bridgeport.

He couldn’t help himself, plotting another conversation. He’d say, You know, John was talking to my father about possibly investing in my company just before my mother and father disappeared.

Oh, she’d ask, not even looking at Kirby, just being polite.

He’d say, Yeah. John didn’t say anything to me but father mentioned it before they left for Utah. I think it was at Felix’s Restaurant, you know, after a Dodger game.

Kirby realized such a conversation would be lame. By then, she’d be looking at something else, not even listening, not even looking at Kirby, like right now.

Shortly before dark, he parked in front of the Sportsman’s Inn and hurried around the car to let her out.

Too late.

She already stood on the road, helping the kid out of the back seat.

Kirby closed the back door, locked the car with his remote and followed them up the steps into the warmth of the inn.

Mona and Joanne stood behind the small front desk, both watching them enter. Joanne smiled but Mona gasped and rushed into the kitchen. Joanne looked as bewildered as Kirby felt. He smiled and waved at Joanne. She cocked her head toward the kitchen, shrugged in that direction and waved for Kirby to find a table in the dining room.

Kirby led Carolyn and the kid into the empty dining room where the only lights came from the Christmas tree decorations.

Joanne turned on the overhead lights and dimmed them down until Kirby nodded, that's good.

He guided Carolyn and the kid into a booth near the windows.

Joanne delivered three menus with a warm smile.

Kirby held up a hand. “I don’t need a menu. I’m having the cattleman’s cut.” He’d seen a photo of the prime rib platter on the wall in the entry.

Joanne grinned approvingly and looked at Carolyn.

Kirby touched Carolyn's hand. “They've got flash frozen lobster.”

“Lobster sounds wonderful.”

Joanne turned to the kid. “What about you, young man?”

A loud clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen shattered the stillness.

Joanne shot a look toward the kitchen and looked back at the kid.

“You got any trout?”

“Flash frozen. It’s very good. My husband pulled it out of the reservoir.” She poked her head toward the front door as if a lake was right on the other side of the highway.

The kid shrugged. "Okay."

“You want it pan fried or baked.”

“Pan fried in lots of butter.”

“Of course.” Joanne smiled at Kirby and asked the kid, “You want baked potato, au gratin or wild rice?”

“What’s awe . . .”

Kirby asked, “You use real cheese?”

Joanne nodded, of course. She had a nice smile.

“That sounds wonderful.” Carolyn sounded hungry, something on Kirby’s side. A good appetite always signaled a good attitude.

“Make mine baked with heaps of sour cream and butter.” Kirby’s stomach had been grumbling all afternoon, nothing in there since breakfast.

Joanne laughed softly, good waitress. She turned back to the kid. “How about you?”

“Bring him the au gratin,” said Kirby. “It goes great with fish.”

The kid tossed Kirby an angry look. “I’ll have wild rice.” He gave his mother a polite smile, slid from the booth and went to the model train set near the window.

Good. 

Kirby looked up