by Natalie Ann
Shoot, she was supposed to pick Jane up on her way home. She sat up with a splash and reached for her phone.
Josie picked up on the other end. “Hello, Ms. Mayor.”
Mona slapped a wet palm to her forehead. “Josie, I’m so sorry. I had a busy day and then a meeting, and then… No excuses, you should have called.”
“And let you run yourself ragged when it wasn’t necessary? Jane was a little disappointed, but I assured her you would see her before her birthday on Sunday. You’re still coming, right?”
Mona stared at the pale blue wall—cape blue, she’d chosen it herself—and blinked back tears. She was overtired; it had nothing to do with being almost forty and all alone. She was happy Jacob had found someone after the loss of his wife and Jane’s paralysis. It’s just that sometimes, like now, she felt vulnerable. Lonely. It would pass.
“Mona? Are you still baking the cake? Because if you’re busy…”
“No,” Mona snapped, her tone bouncing off the wall. She tightened her grip on the phone and lowered her voice. “No, I want to do her cake. It’s my pleasure. I can’t believe my niece is eight already.”
“Jake said the same thing,” Josie said. “He wants to give her the moon and the stars but settled for a beautiful locket instead.”
That sounded like Jacob. He adored his daughter. He was a good father—like Trace Michaels.
“She’ll treasure it. I’m so sorry I messed up your date night, Josie, it totally slipped my mind.”
“Small wonder, considering all you have on your plate right now. How’s the new cook working out?”
Mona pictured the handsome young man on his Harley. “He’s going to break some hearts, I’m afraid, but seems like a hard worker. It’s only been a couple of weeks and he’s already got the hang of the kitchen. It’s a little too early to leave him on his own, but hopefully by the time I need him to take over, he’ll be ready.”
“This is so exciting. I’m going to burst if I can’t tell someone soon.”
Mona smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm. “Let’s see if you still feel that way when I drag you with me on the campaign trail.” She swished the water with her toe. “Okay, gotta go. See you Sunday. Hug Jane for me and tell her her aunty is a big dope.”
Josies laughed. “I will not. Can’t wait to see the mystery cake. Oh, there’s Mischief asking for the door. Get some sleep, don’t forget, the party’s at one. Bye!”
The phone went silent and Mona set it down. She hoped Jane’s dog would take well to Amber’s gift for her young cousin—a kitten. They still had to pick it up from the pound, but she’d already chosen the one she wanted, a little black and white fur ball. Jacob hadn’t looked impressed when they asked if it was all right, but he couldn’t say no to his niece, so the cat was getting a home. Amber had tried the same doe-eyes on her, but she was made of sterner stuff than her brother. Yeah, right.
She’d called the pound the next day and reserved one for her daughter.
They were both pushovers when it came to their kids.
Speaking of which, she hoped Trace wouldn’t rake Bailey over the coals for her new hairstyle. Turning sixteen was a big deal to a young girl. A time when hormones ruled their lives. She’d been the same way, so she knew what they were going through—and what to watch out for. If she wasn’t mistaken, both girls had their eyes on boys. She’d had the talk with Amber a while ago, but a refresher might be in order, awkward or not. Bailey was another issue. It wasn’t her place to say anything, and Lord knew she didn’t want to approach Trace or the girl’s mother about it, but someone needed to tell Bailey to be careful.
Romance might seem like a fairytale as a child, but the reality was more like a nightmare for a lot of innocent girls.
She should know, she’d been one.
The water had cooled, so she pulled the plug and climbed out to towel-dry and wrap herself in her ratty old robe that she refused to throw away. The ends of her hair had gotten damp, but she was too lazy to bother doing anything with it, leaving the curls to frame her rosy face. Now that she had settled down, Mona’s stomach decided to grumble. Maybe the girls had left a slice or two of the pizza she’d ordered for them earlier.
Tightening her belt, she opened the door, walked across the hardwood flooring in her bedroom, and made her way down the hall toward the kitchen. Bailey’s tear-filled voice made her hesitate, loathe to intrude on a phone conversation. But she couldn’t leave her upset, so she entered the room, only to slam to a halt when two sets of identical blue eyes turned her way.
Trace Michaels was in her kitchen.
***
Trace stared at the disheveled woman who’d interrupted the lecture he’d been giving Bailey. It had been years since he’d seen anything other than Mona’s hard outer shell—he was lost for words. Her pink robe hugged a curvaceous body that set his pulse unaccountably racing as the heady scent of lavender swirled between them like a ghost. He’d bought her bath beads with the same aroma once. It made him wonder what else was the same.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tightening the tie on her robe, which served to highlight her full breasts.
“He… he said I have to go home,” Bailey sobbed, her expression mutinous.
Trace frowned at his daughter. “I said it would be better if you came home so we could sort this out without disturbing the Samuels’.”
“I think that ship has sailed.” Mona crossed to the stove and lifted a copper kettle to test the weight before lighting the gas under the pot. “I’ll make us a cup of tea and we can talk. Where’s Amber?”
“She went to her room to give my dad some privacy while he reamed me out,” Bailey answered, staring at the floor as if she wished it would swallow her whole.
Mona took some multi-colored mugs down from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “My daughter, the diplomat. Well, go and see if she wants to join us, honey, while I have a word with your dad.”
Bailey barely glanced at her father before bolting from the room as though her legs were on fire.
Mona shook her head and called after her. “Slow down. I don’t want to make a trip to the hospital when you fall down those stairs.” She waved Trace into a chair. “May as well have a seat. I don’t imagine she’ll be in a hurry to return.”
Trace sat, bemused by how she’d entered the room and taken over. “Are you always this bossy?” The girl he remembered had been shy and introverted.
The kettle whistled and she efficiently moved it off of the hot burner before shutting off the stove, then filled their cups with the steaming liquid before setting the pot down. “Earl Grey good enough for you?” she asked, turning to bring the cups to the table along with a couple of spoons and a cut glass sugar bowl.
“Sure, thanks.” He leaned back to give her room. The hem of her robe brushed his leg and the heat of her body permeated the air, tempting him to drag her into his lap. He frowned. Where did that come from? His and Mona’s past was history. A lifetime had elapsed since they’d gone out in school. They were different people now. Older. Wiser.
“I’m guessing Bailey didn’t ask before getting her hair cut.” She took the chair across from him and reached for the sugar bowl. “Milk?”
“Hmm?” he said, his gaze on her gaping robe. “No, this is fine, thanks.”
She caught him staring and clutched the flaps together, raising her brow. “Haven’t seen a woman’s chest for a while, Michaels?”
None like hers. He cleared his throat and concentrated on preparing his tea. “What was wrong with her hair the way it was? She’s blond,” he added, outraged.
Mona chuckled. “Don’t forget the pink streak. I don’t know why you’re surprised; your ex-wife is blond. It’s only natural Bailey would want to look like her mom, she’s a beautiful woman.”
Trace looked up, surprised by her sincerity. It was well known around town that the two women shared a mutual animosity. “Yes, well, she still should have come to me first.”
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p; Mona crossed her legs, revealing tanned skin and pink toenails. “She’s a teenager, they act first and think later. Give her a break, it’s a good look on her.”
Privately, he agreed. Her long hair took a lot of work to keep up and hadn’t done much for her delicate features. But, still. If she didn’t come to him for advice about something as simple as this, what else would she keep from him? “I need her to trust me,” he said.
“I do,” Bailey replied, entering the kitchen with her friend, Amber, following close behind. “It’s my hair, Dad. What’s the big deal?”
Amber slid into the chair next to her mother and took a sip of her tea. “Feel better after your bath?”
Mona leaned over and kissed her temple. “Yes, thank you. Are you going to say hello to Mr. Michaels?”
“Hello,” she answered dutifully, then raised a brow at Bailey. “Um, I’m sorry?”
Bailey frowned and plopped into the other chair. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. This is about my father trying to rule my life, it’s not your fault.” She scowled at her dad.
Trace wavered between frustration and embarrassment. Who was this monster who’d taken over his sweet daughter’s body? “We’ll save this for home. Did you bring your things?”
“No! I’m not—”
Mona reached over and squeezed Bailey’s knee and sent him a warning look. “It’s late. Why don’t you let her stay the night and I’ll bring her home tomorrow? The girls have plans to watch a movie and eat some popcorn, they won’t get into anymore trouble. Right, ladies?”
“Yes, Mom.” Amber grinned.
“Please, Dad?” Bailey begged.
Trace crossed his arms and leaned back. He was outnumbered. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. He sighed and nodded. “No more surprises,” he warned.
Bailey squealed and leapt up to wring his neck in a tight hug. “Thanks, Daddy,” she whispered.
Amber smiled, and Trace felt an odd sense of déjà vu. She reminded him of her mother at that age. “You rock, Mr. Michaels.”
The two of them raced out of the room, giggling, and clomped up the stairs like a herd of horses.
Mona turned from watching them go, a warm smile flirting with her lips. “You did good.”
His chest swelled at her words and that look in her eyes. “Thanks to you. I owe you one. Raising a kid on your own isn’t easy, is it?”
The smile died and he mourned the loss. “No,” she agreed, pensively. “It isn’t.”
He wondered who Amber’s dad was, he wanted to kick the guy’s ass. Mona was amazing, and Amber was a great kid. They deserved the father’s support, unless… “Is your daughter’s father around?” He’d never heard even a rumor of who the man had been. All he remembered was that she’d gotten pregnant not long after they had broken up, but he’d had his hands full with Sally by then—he was ashamed to say—and hadn’t kept up with how Mona was managing.
She rose and took her cup to the sink. “It’s late,” she said. “You should go.”
He stared at her reflection in the window. Obviously, he’d touched on a sore subject. He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for the tea and the advice.” He headed to the door, then hesitated, his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a fantastic mother. Good night, Mona.”
He opened the door and left before he said how much he wished things were different between them.
Chapter Four
Mona flipped the three hot cakes cooking on the stainless-steel grill, cracked two eggs and got them started, and added another layer of bacon in preparation of the next order. She turned to the butcher block counter behind her and chopped onions, peppers, and ham, threw them in a mixing bowl and added three eggs for a Denver omelet. As soon as the pancakes came off, she added the egg mixture and nodded to Jason to drop the toast. Next came the frying eggs. A deft flip with the spatula, count of ten, and done. Add them to the short stack of hot cakes and order up.
“What’s next?” she asked her prep cook, handing him the heavy platter.
Jason set the plate on the counter and rang the bell for the server to pick up before leaning closer to the string of orders hanging in front of him. “Meatlovers x two, one no cheese. A pig and pickle with soup—” he glanced at the simmering pot on the stove, “and a Rueben with sweet potato fries. Toast is up for the omelet,” he added.
Mona completed the next plate and filled the grill with the next orders, then turned to finishing the potato and cheese soup she’d been working on before the late morning rush began. She filled a large mixing bowl with cold water, added salt and pepper and a scoop of flour, whisked the combination into a loose paste and stirred it into the bubbling pot. As soon as it began to thicken, she added four cups of shredded cheddar and smiled as the soup took on the consistency of Velveeta—perfect.
“Soup’s ready. Can you fill the crockpot for the girls?” She rinsed out the mixing bowl and returned to the grill in time to add the sizzling sauerkraut and corned beef to the Rueben, flip the sandwiches and plate up the meatlovers, the two of them working like a well-oiled machine.
“Sure thing, boss. I know what I’m having for lunch.” He grinned and strode out front for the inset to the cauldron the servers used.
Mona lifted the basket of fries from the deep fryer and left them to drain, added dill pickles to the buttered toast Jason had ready, and scooped the Denver off the grill along with two pieces of bacon. She folded them over the pickles, cut the sandwich diagonally, plated it and set it along with the Rueben on the counter. “Order up,” she called and was surprised to see Amber step up to the pickup window. “Hi, baby-girl, what are you doing here?”
Amber glanced sideways at the grinning Jason and grimaced at the endearment. “I’m filling in for Sara. She called the house, but you’d already left for work. Her sitter is sick, and she couldn’t find anyone else.”
Mona wasn’t sure what she’d done to be blessed with such a thoughtful and kind daughter, but it made her chest swell with pride. Most other teens her age would still be sleeping with a pillow over their heads on a Saturday morning, especially after the late night she’d spent with Bailey. Mona had heard them chattering down the hall until the wee hours of the morning but left them to it. Bailey needed a little laughter in her life. The child was carrying some deep angst, though if Mona had a mother like hers, she’d be stressed too.
“Where’s Bailey?”
Amber nestled the soup bowls Jason handed her onto the plates and gathered them up to deliver to her customers. “I left her sleeping. She was worn out, poor kid.”
Poor kid. Hard to imagine only two years separated the girls. That and the same biological father, but that was her secret. One she planned on carrying to the grave.
Jason moved aside for Amber to get by with the heavy dishes, but instead of returning to the kitchen he stared after her with a rather intense expression on his handsome face.
Oh, oh. Mona liked Jason, she really did, but he was too old to be looking at her daughter the way a man looks at a woman. Amber had plans. She was going to university in the fall. She was going to make something of herself. A guy like Jason… well, it just wouldn’t work, that’s all.
“Jason, you can take over in the kitchen. I’m going on a break before the lunch crowd arrives.”
He startled and hurried into the room as she removed her apron and hung it on the back door. “Do you need any prep work done, boss?” He used a cleaning rag to sweep the debris from her sandwich making into the disposal cut into the butcher block counter.
“Maybe slice a few more tomatoes and check how much salad we have prepared. If you need me, just shout,” she said as she wandered out front. The restaurant was calm now, everyone quiet as they ate their meals and relaxed with full stomachs. Mona loved the hectic rush of a hungry crowd, but it was the satisfied expressions after they finished that filled her heart with joy.
“Mona, another great meal.”
“Thanks, Mona
. See you on Monday.”
“That soup was delicious,” Mr. Hayward said, his rheumy blue eyes watering as she sat down at his table. He tugged a faded red hankie from his pocket and rubbed the moisture away. “Darn doctors told me I’d be improved after the eye surgery. They never mentioned I’d be crying like a baby.”
Mona smiled and patted his gnarled hand. “It’ll get better. Give it time.”
He snorted. “I’m too old, time isn’t a luxury I can afford.”
Maybe not, but he could afford almost anything else. Bailey’s grandfather was a self-made millionaire, not that you’d know it by his kindly disposition and simple tastes.
“Did you remember to use the eye drops the doctor recommended?” She sat back and turned her cup over when Amber arrived with the coffee pot. “Yes, please. First one of the day.”
“Really?” Amber gazed at her skeptically. “That’s not like you.”
“I know. Maybe I’m trying to turn over a new leaf,” Mona said, shrugging.
Amber touched her forehead. “No fever. Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?” She giggled and poured the coffee.
Mona mock frowned. “Everyone’s a comedian. You catching a ride home with me after lunch?”
Amber glanced toward the kitchen, then flushed. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll see later. Better get back to work, the boss is a stickler.”
She moved on to the next table and chatted to the customers, but it was too late, Mona had seen the interest for her Harley-riding cook spring to life in her daughter’s eyes. She knew that look and the trouble it could stir. There was no way she was going to sit back and allow Amber to make the same mistake she had. Now she just had to figure out a way to change the hands of fate.
Chapter Five
