by Jean Oram
This girl was going to be trouble. The fun kind of trouble.
Connor sat on the veranda and sipped his coffee, loving the way the midday sun was scorching everything but him. He still couldn’t quite figure out why he wasn’t wigging out and stressed about all the things he had to do at work. Normally, sleeping away a Saturday morning as he just had would have anxiety building within him like pressure in a shaken bottle of champagne. Instead, his anxiety merely hovered in the background, a low hum, until he decided to fret about it. Then his heart rate would skyrocket, his chest would grow tight and his hands clench until they ached.
Just thinking about being anxious made his muscles start to contract. No wonder he’d woken up sore. He’d probably slept this way, his subconscious fretting that he was forgetting something important, something lurking behind a corner that would alter his entire business world.
He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the quiet island sounds rather than an engine that was puttering and shuddering as though it was running rich. He cracked his eyelids as Maya thumped by, likely on a mission to do something involving the wrench she was carrying.
He shut his eyes again, promising himself that if he just chilled out and did nothing, thought about nothing, he’d knock the doctor’s socks off with a new and improved version of himself. A version that could go back to work and figure out why his latest merger felt as if he was pushing a boulder uphill through slick mud. And maybe figure out why the acquisitions his advisor James Culver had been adding to Connor’s portfolio seemed so out of character for the man. Normally, his two advisors were that in name only. They basically sat around, waiting for Connor to hint whether something looked good or not, and even what they should pursue. Then they would help make it happen. Bill Hatfield was great at moving things along, and James had been a solid third in the trio, sorting out details. But suddenly James had started adding projects on his own—with Connor’s approval, of course. It was a refreshing change, but somehow it still left Connor more tired than it should.
The engine sound in the background stabilized, running smoothly for a moment before cutting off.
Maya reappeared, her fingertips coated with grease.
“What are you doing? Rebuilding a plane from the war?”
“Generator.”
He silently reassessed her. She was sassy and unpredictable, and didn’t mind getting her hands dirty—quite literally—if need be. She was also, apparently, smart enough to go to the U of T as well as graduate high in her class.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, shifting his weight, and making the old wicker chair creak.
She gave him a dirty look and continued walking past.
“I meant on this island. Making crappy waffles.”
“Hey, those are the best you can buy in a box.”
“I was promised meals.”
“You’ve been given meals.”
He let out a derisive snort, wanting to see how far he could push her. It was probably her mouth―that mouth with those perfect teeth and lush lips. Her wit. A combo that had probably kept her out of the jobs she wanted or gotten her fired. Or the fact that if her bosses had been like him—only not as broken—they hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves around her. Or keep up to her. And in the business world there was nothing more threatening to most men than not being able to keep up with a gorgeous young woman such as Maya.
“Nobody said the meals would be fancy,” she replied.
“I’m trying to get my health back and you’re feeding me processed food.”
“What’s wrong with your health?”
“Nothing. Just trying to eat healthy.” He took a slug of his coffee and went to adjust his shades. His shades. He’d forgotten to put them on this morning. Oh well. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed.
“How’d you get the black eye?”
“Who fired you?” he retorted.
She stepped back as though recovering her balance after a kick to the gut. “When are you going to give me some jobs as your executive assistant?”
“Interesting reaction.”
“Listen, Connor…”
“Make sure your sentences are short. My attention span isn’t at its greatest.”
“Yeah, none of you is.”
“Excuse me?” He stood, only to find the world spinning.
“I’m sorry, but you are not the man I’ve idolized for all these years, and the disappointment is a little bit tough to bear when…” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment and it seemed as though she was fighting something supersized.
“Well, I’m sorry my life isn’t living up to your dreams, Maya. But I think it’s important to keep in mind that, at the moment, I’m your boss as well as your paying guest.”
She stepped closer, looking tired. “Connor, I am here to help as your assistant, and I apologize for my attitude. Is there something you need from me? Because I need to make a run into port.”
He contemplated kissing her, wondering what she’d do if he did. He gave his head a small shake and sat. They were odd together. She put him off guard, made him act like a jerk, but the thing was, he deserved it. All of it. He was a disappointment. Even to himself.
“So? Are you really going back to Toronto?” She jutted a hip, making her legs looking even longer. She was impossible in so many ways, from the length of her legs to her attitude. And the fact that instead of getting miffed at her and her digs, he wanted to pull her into the love seat a few chairs down and find a way to make her his.
“Hello?” She waved a hand in front of his face, her red nails flashing.
“Monday.”
“Will you be back?”
“I hope not.”
“Then I won’t bother buying you the nice waffles.” The screen door banged shut behind her, making a new sound as the screws came loose in the lower hinge.
He switched to the chair with a better view of the hummingbird feeder, spilling his coffee in the process. He needed to go home. If he stayed here all week he’d undoubtedly push the two of them into a situation where his manhood couldn’t back him up.
Maya spotted her sister Melanie waiting for her in the marina on her motorcycle. Maya plunked herself on the seat behind her, accepting the offered helmet.
“Seriously? The death trap?”
“It’s cheap on gas.”
“Next time can we take the car?”
“Sold it.”
Maya sighed and secured the strap under her chin. They were all making sacrifices for a rotting old building. What was wrong with them? Was this normal behavior? In one of her sociology classes they’d read a case study where the wealthy, in hard times, would drive their BMWs to a food bank far from home, park a few blocks away, then walk in. They’d keep up the pretense that everything was fine as they held on to their symbols of prestige and money, even when they were losing it all.
Was the Summer family—who had never been well-off—doing the same thing? Were they sacrificing everything to keep their symbol of prestige? The one thing that set them apart from the rest of the locals—as if having a rickety old cottage out here somehow made them “more”?
Or was it something else, such as sentimental value?
Melanie gunned the motorcycle’s engine, causing Maya to clutch her so she didn’t get left hanging in the air behind the crotch rocket like an unsuspecting cartoon character.
“Warn me!”
Melanie let out a wild laugh.
“Whoa. Who are you and what did you do with Smelly Mellie?”
She laughed again. If she hadn’t been wearing one of her ever-present XXL T-shirts, which served to cover her figure, Maya would think something was seriously wrong with her younger sister.
Melanie did an extra lap around the nursing home where their mother resided. Maya figured her sister was either enjoying the cool air as much as Maya was or else was also dreading going inside the most depressing of all places.
As they got off the motorcycle, tuck
ing their helmets under arm, Maya studied Melanie. “You know what would look fabulous on you?”
“If you say black leather…”
“I’m actually thinking of a 1950s dress with the big skirt and tight bodice. You’d be totally hot. Simone’s started making them for her boutique.”
Melanie scowled at the idea of a dress and headed to the automatic doors. “Well, she’ll have better luck continuing to sell Hailey’s photos than me a dress. Is Simone coming today?”
“The honorary Summer sister will be here as always. And don’t you wear skirts for work?”
“That’s different. They’re less dressy.”
“Trade in the XXL shirts for me. Please?” Maya clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes.
Melanie shoved her through the doorway. “So…is he as wonderful as you hoped?”
Maya shivered as the building’s air conditioning hit her like a sudden cold front. “It smells like instant potatoes and desperation in here.”
“Are you avoiding the subject of Connor MacKenzie?”
“He’s an arrogant bum cake.” The man was not the career savior Maya had envisioned, and she was confused by her reaction to him. She wanted to mother him and heal whatever was going on with him, but also to fight with him until he yelled and threw things. Then she wanted to take him to her bed and make love to him all night long. The man she’d admired in the TED talks, conferences and newspaper articles had to be in there somewhere.
“Bum cake?” Her sister laughed. “So, you like him, then?”
“Of course. He’s infuriating as all get out. I can’t decide if I want to hump his brains out or shove him off a boat with a rock tied to his ankles.” She let out a frustrated breath. How could she still be attracted to him when he was so disappointing and so…so sexy?
“Is he smart?”
“Freaking brilliant. And handsome.” She groaned and rolled her head.
“And rich.” Melanie was giving her a grin that meant her sister was totally on to her.
“It’s more than that.” Such as the power he wielded. Total turn on. “Anyway, I’ll be rich soon enough, too.”
“Starting when, exactly?”
“When he lets me do some work as his assistant and I get some experience to take to Toronto.” Maya clapped her hands together and let out a breath. “Then my life will start.”
“Why are you so focused on Toronto? I just got a job in a law office in Bracebridge, with way less of a commute, a lower cost of living, and a decent wage. Honestly, I’m not sure why people move to the city.”
“Because there are options in the city. More room for growth. That’s where my kind of jobs are, and the men that go with them. Plus one has the added bonus of not having eighty million neighbors coming in expecting special favors, and they don’t spend forty minutes of your appointment chatting you up about your family, health, relationships or lack thereof. And there’s operas and stuff.”
“And you go to operas?”
Maya laughed. “No. But I could.”
“For your information, meetings with neighbors only last five minutes.”
“Forty-five.”
“After the warm-up, five.”
The warm-up was forty. Forty wasted minutes. Every single time you met with someone.
“Think about it,” Melanie continued. “In the city, when you wanted student loans, the loan officer spent twenty minutes verifying your identity and asking about your program. Around here, they already know all that stuff, so they spent the meeting time chatting. You are a person, Maya. It’s an easy appointment and they get the information right. Way better service—and it makes you want to go back again.”
Maya stuck out her tongue.
“You know I’m right.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were Melanie, not Hailey.”
“Maya…” She gave a little sigh.
“Yeah, yeah. Rivalry-shmivalry. We’re working together to save the cottage, aren’t we? Isn’t she letting me have it for the next two weeks, to make a miracle happen by calling the crumbling place an executive retreat?”
“What’s going on with you?”
Maya ran her hands down her thighs. “Nothing. I’m just frustrated. I thought going to university was supposed to open my world.” They paused to let an elderly man wheel by in his chair. “How’s your new job?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? Really? A brilliant job in a lovely town with lovely people who speak of lovely things? You’re not maximizing your degree, either, are you?”
“Nobody does when they first start out. Especially in law.”
“Reality is a wonderful place to be, isn’t it?”
Melanie gave a small laugh. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Sometimes you’re not bad for a sister. Unfortunately, today’s not your day.”
“Shut up,” Maya said with a grin.
Melanie began walking faster, biting back a smile. Maya matched her stride until they were running down the hall in an attempt to be the first to enter their mother’s room.
They rounded the last corner, giggling that none of the nurses had caught them, and ran into Hailey, who frowned and placed a finger over her lips, balancing a homemade triple layer cake on her other hand.
Rivalry? Yeah, it wasn’t dead. Look at Hailey. She was already here, had the cake and was therefore going to enter the room first and get the majority of the credit. Of course there was rivalry. It would never die. Rivalry was what sisters did. It meant they loved each other. To death. However that happened to occur.
Mrs. Kowski, one of the residents, edged by with her walker. “That looks wonderful, Hailey.” Her eyebrows rose hopefully as she stared at the cake, then at Maya’s big sister.
“Come by in ten minutes and you can have a slice, Mrs. Kowski.”
“Will do!” The woman increased her pace, heading to the nearby common room. “Supper around here sucks,” she called over her shoulder. “I always have room for homemade cake!”
Hailey pointed to Daphne, who was struggling out of the common room down the hall with a mittful of helium balloons. Her five-year-old daughter, Tigger, was leaping alongside, trying to make the balloons bounce off her mother’s head, and causing a great deal of static electricity.
Maya laughed. “Who gave Tigger sugar?”
“Maya, light the candles.” Hailey was tense, her mouth drawn into a line.
“Where’s movie boy?” Maya twisted to check the hall. No sign of Finian Alexander. Had he already taken off on her sister? Because if he hurt Hailey, Maya was going to kick his butt all the way from California to Canada. Hailey wasn’t one to take risks, and she’d taken a big one with the bad boy of Hollywood.
“Just light them,” her big sister grumbled. “Matches are in my back pocket.”
“Chill. I’ve got it.” Maya snatched them from Hailey’s pocket and lit the candles. “Tigger’s going to think it’s for her. Five candles.”
Hailey frowned, the line between her eyebrows deepening.
“Relax,” Maya said. “She’ll know.”
Simone, her long black hair waving in time with her brisk stride, hurried up, a small wrapped gift in hand. “Sorry I’m late. Does Catherine know we’re here?” She peeked at the closed door they were gathered around before giving everyone a hug. The others talked over each other as they assured her that she was right on time, and that everything was still a surprise, all while getting themselves organized.
“Who has the gift?” Maya asked.
“I had it delivered,” Melanie said.
“I brought her a handmade silk scarf from my boutique,” Simone added. “Orange, red, and yellow.”
“She’ll love it,” Hailey said.
Maya looked around. Hailey with lit cake. Daphne with balloons. Melanie in charge of the already-delivered gift. Simone with a one-of-a-kind scarf. Maya was the odd one out. “You guys should have told me to do something.”
; “You were busy.” Melanie pushed open their mother’s door, nudging Maya so she entered after Hailey, Daphne bringing up the rear with Tigger. “Now sing.”
They all burst into the room, singing loudly as though trying to outdo each other. Catherine’s eyes shone as she grinned from ear to ear.
“Look at all my girls!” Mrs. Summer pulled her granddaughter to her wheelchair and hugged her close, stroking the child’s wild hair. “And look at your pretty party dress.”
“Mr. Finian bought it for me.” Tigger beamed at Hailey.
“Mom,” Maya said, “we all chipped in and bought you a gift. Mellie arranged to have it delivered. Did it arrive?”
“There’s a big box in the corner. What’s in it?”
“A television stand,” Melanie said as Maya leaned over their mother’s chair for a hug. She was waved away as Hailey brought the flaming candles and cake closer.
“Make a wish!” Daphne called.
“For sea monkeys!” Tigger added, gripping the wheelchair’s armrest as she bounced up and down.
Maya drew the girl away, afraid her staticky hair would catch fire. “Why sea monkeys?” she asked, as all but one candle was blown out.
“They’re cool!” Tigger replied. “Look! Grandma has a boyfriend!”
The women laughed, and Catherine blew out the last flame.
“Either that or my lungs don’t work like they used to.” She smiled at the girl. “Did you know I used to never miss a candle? Even the year I turned thirty-seven and your grandfather put thirty-seven candles on my poor little red velvet cake. Not a single one left burning.”
“But there are only five on this cake,” Tigger said. “Five, like me.”
“I know, dear.”
Hailey began passing out slices of cake and Maya tried to make herself useful, but her sister kept elbowing her out of the way. “How’s your hero. What is he? The king of Toronto or something like that?” she asked, finally handing Maya a corner piece—her favorite.
Maya shoved a forkful in her mouth and mumbled something.
“What?” Hailey asked.
“Where’s your movie star boyfriend?” Maya asked through a mouthful of cake.
