“The swings at least,” Holly said as she grabbed the coffeepot and headed out for a round of refills, no doubt. “That reminds me—Luke’s got a new grill on order, so be on standby for a barbecue.” She glanced at Jo, at Ozzy, then back to Jo. “You should come, too, Jo. Nothing fancy. Just friends hanging out watching my husband blow up our backyard. It’ll be a great time to meet more people from town.”
“I’ll play it by ear,” Jo said. She appreciated the polite invitation but wasn’t looking to make connections. She just wanted to do her work and move on. “But thanks.”
“She’s only kidding about the grill exploding,” Ozzy said. “That’s more Hunter MacBride’s area of disaster.”
“Too true,” Holly agreed.
“Total lie,” Ozzy said when Holly was out of earshot. “Our sheriff was responsible for a lot of my emergency training. By default,” he added. “I’ll be sure to put an extra extinguisher in my SUV just in case.”
“Jo?” Jo glanced up at Jed Bishop. “Hey, Oz,” Jed said and gave Zoe a quick wink. “I just spoke with my wife.”
“And?” Anticipation bubbled in her blood. “What’s the verdict?”
“I’ll see you on-site Monday morning.”
“Excellent.” She couldn’t stop beaming as Jed paid his bill and headed out. Just like that, her to-do list for the day was done.
“Hi.” Zoe’s hand shot into the air as she grinned again at Jo.
“Hi.” Jo laughed but the smile faded from her face when Zoe held out her arms and leaned forward. “Oh, no. You don’t want me, sweetheart.”
“Up.” Zoe scooted forward and nearly toppled off Ozzy’s lap before he caught her and, much to Jo’s shock, plopped the little girl right in her arms.
“Not up, Zoe. You’re too heavy for her. But you can sit.”
“’Kay.” Zoe twisted her mouth as if contemplating Ozzy’s words. “Hi.” She tilted her head back and let out a laugh that would have made even the curmudgeonliest person break out a smile. “Hi hi hi.”
“Hello to you, too.” Jo winced, shifting the little girl around her belly. “You’re a cutie, aren’t you? I’m Jo.”
“Doe!” Zoe cried. “Doe doe doe.”
“Um. Okay.”
“She has fun with new words,” Ozzy chuckled.
Jo tweaked a finger under Zoe’s chin. Uncertainty flooded through her. She hadn’t spent a lot of time around kids. Even when she’d been one, she’d felt far more comfortable around adults. When she’d learned she wouldn’t be having any children of her own, she’d tended to go out of her way to avoid them. She didn’t want to be reminded of or shown what she’d never have. Tears burned the back of her throat, confusing and embarrassing her. She swiped a hand across her cheek, but it was too late.
“Sad?” Zoe’s bright and cheerful face darkened. She scrambled up and linked her chubby arms around Jo’s neck. “No sad, Doe. No cry.” She patted her little hand against Jo’s back.
“You okay?” Ozzy asked, reaching out to press his hand against Zoe’s back to keep her from falling. But Jo only nodded and wrapped her arms around little Zoe and held on.
“She’s a big bundle of love, isn’t she?” Jo blinked again and felt the tears escape. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Hormones.” Her hand brushed Ozzy’s. Jo started, unable to process the spark that jumped between them. This town, or maybe it was this man, definitely lent itself to sensory overload. “You think maybe Holly would let me practice on her for a while?”
“If you mean would Holly accept free babysitting, I can attest that she gratefully would,” Ozzy replied. His fingers touched hers again, as if he, too, felt what she did.
Twyla dropped two paper sacks on the counter. Jo and Ozzy jumped and Ozzy pulled his hand back. “Here’re your orders.”
“Thanks, Twyla.” Ozzy stood up and reached for his wallet.
“You bet. Have a good time with Shelly tonight.”
Jo wasn’t an idiot. That little zinger of information was purely for her benefit.
“Shelly?” Ozzy looked honestly baffled for a second, then said, “Right. The movies. Thanks. I’d almost forgotten.”
“Got yourself a movie date, huh?” Jo teased and ignored that pang of envy when it chimed once more. “What are you going to see?”
“The Big Sleep. It’s classics night at the theater. Have you seen it?”
“Classics aren’t my thing. Don’t,” she ordered when he went to pay for her lunch. “I’ve got it. It’s the least I owe you for playing welcoming committee and tour guide. Please,” she added at Ozzy’s reluctance.
Deciding that Jo had had enough comfort, Zoe kicked out her feet and made to escape. “Oh! Careful!” Jo almost lost her hold as the tiny body slipped away.
“I’ve got her.” Ozzy caught Zoe like an expert and hauled her over his shoulder. The ensuing squeals and laughter had even the sour-looking Twyla smiling. He turned and scanned the restaurant. After a quick gesture to Holly, he beelined to a table filled with senior citizens. Zoe’s ensuing cries of “Mya! Okar! Arold!” told Jo this group of customers were also regulars. “Quick. Let’s make a run for it.” Ozzy returned to grab for the bags and dashed for the door. When Jo stood up, Twyla was back to glaring, but one glance down at Jo’s stomach had the hostility in her eyes fading and the color rising in her cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“I’m not standing in your way, Twyla,” Jo said quietly as she set money down and added a tip. “Believe me, I have enough going on. I’m not looking to get involved with anyone.”
“Oh.” Twyla let out a sigh of relief Jo suspected she’d been holding onto for months. “Okay. Good. I mean, not good, but good to know. You know?”
“I do know.” Jo moved off, then turned back to the younger woman. “Maybe stop waiting for him to notice. If you’re interested, tell Ozzy. From what I’ve seen, he doesn’t pick up on signals very well.”
“That’s what I suggested,” Holly muttered as she crossed behind Twyla. “Excellent advice nonetheless. We’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure, Jo.”
“I have no doubt.” She’d have to play that by ear. As nice as the warm welcome had been, she wasn’t here to do anything but work hard enough so she could move on. She liked Ozzy. She liked his friends. She liked this little town. But she’d learned the hard way the second she let her guard down, the second she started to settle in and trust others, life took its own opportunity to slap her down.
Better for everyone, especially herself, if she kept her distance, focused on the sanctuary site, and moved on to the new life she had planned for herself and her child when the time came.
“You ready to hit the beach?” Ozzy asked when Jo finally emerged from the diner. His bright look of expectation bolstered her resolve as Jo reached for her bag.
“Actually, I’m going to head back.” This was a practical decision. One that had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with how she’d felt when he’d touched her. Twice. “I’ll save the beach for another time.”
“Oh.” He frowned and, after a quick check, handed over her lunch. “But I thought—”
“I appreciate the personal tour.” She cut him off and backed away. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do to get ready for next week and I’m not here to play. I’ll see you around, Oz.”
“At least let me drive you home.”
“I’d rather walk.” A lie. She was more tired than she thought, but the idea of being in a confined space with Ozzy Lakeman unsettled her more than the prospect of heading home under her own steam.
She liked him enough already. Any more and she’d just be asking for trouble. “Have a good time on your date tonight.” She offered him her brightest smile before she headed off for home.
Alone.
CHAPTER SIX
AS WAS HIS ROUTINE, before heading in for his 8:00 a.m. shift at the statio
n house on Sunday, Ozzy pulled his SUV into the driveway of the pale blue bungalow cottage and parked behind his father’s hybrid. Located nearly dead center of Butterfly Harbor, the house was on Clover Path Drive, one of the few streets where the homes had remained occupied and well-tended to despite the rough patch the town had endured the past few years.
Ozzy was greeted by the familiar roar of the lawn mower before his father rounded the corner in his quest to maintain the perfect landscaping display for the entire town to admire. Lyle Lakeman, retired city registrar, was second only to florist Lori Knight in the horticulture department. His father could just look at a plant and it would grow to its fullest, most colorful potential.
“Morning, Dad!” Ozzy hauled out the two bags containing the fish he’d caught yesterday morning as well as leftover produce he’d picked up from Duskywing Farm. He’d spent the hours before his date last night meal planning and prepping for the week. Handing over the leftover produce was, as Ozzy had learned in the last couple of years, the best way to ensure his mother at least got some healthy food into her. His father was from the generation of meat and potatoes, with potatoes qualifying as their main vegetable. Baked, broiled, fried or covered in cheesy cream sauce. How his father wasn’t on cholesterol medication was a mystery for the ages.
Lyle flipped off the engine as Ozzy closed the back of his vehicle. “Your mother’s waiting for you. Something about the coffee maker being on the fritz again.”
“Right.” Ozzy nodded. “I’ll get on it.” His days as tech support were never going to be behind him.
“Heard you and Shelly Tate had a date to the movies.” Lyle pulled off his Dodgers baseball cap, a reminder that his father was that team’s sole supporter in all of Butterfly Harbor. It had become the family—and town—joke, made all the funnier by Ozzy’s lifelong devotion to the San Francisco Giants. “How’d it go?”
“Fine.” Not remotely close to the truth. Shelly, it turned out, was a screen talker. The running commentary before, during and after the film had pushed Ozzy so far down in his seat he could barely see the screen. She’d been shushed so many times Ozzy spent most of the film waiting for the theater manager to kick them out. There wasn’t anything Shelly didn’t have an opinion on large or small, and the judgements had continued throughout the rest of their evening. It probably hadn’t helped that Ozzy had spent most of the night wishing he’d taken someone else to the movies instead.
“Going to see her again, then?” Lyle asked.
“Shelly? No.” He eyed his father. “Why?”
“Just wondering when you’re going to get serious about someone is all. Your mother worries.”
That was something Ozzy knew, but then his mother had never understood why he hadn’t been more popular in high school or college. Ozzy could have told her, but he doubted she’d have believed him. How could she when she’d never seen his weight as anything other than more of him to love? “I’m not even thirty yet, Dad. I’ve got plenty of time.”
“Uh-huh.” Lyle slapped his cap against his jean-clad thigh and put it back on his head, covering the hair that had started going stark white more than a decade before. “By your age I was married with you on the way.”
“Times change, Dad. I need to go my own way, not yours.” It had taken Ozzy longer than it should have to offer that crumb of knowledge to his father. It was almost funny how much stronger he’d gotten when the weight had come off. “I need to get the food inside before I get to work.”
“Go on, then.” Lyle flipped the mower back on and pivoted in the opposite direction.
Ozzy shifted the bags into one hand and opened the front door. He immediately inhaled the aroma of fresh baked pie and hot sugar. Typical. His mother did most of her weekly baking on Sunday mornings before the sun began to rise. He didn’t call out. Instead, he walked down the hallway and past his father’s study and straight into the kitchen.
The mocha-colored walls were covered in photographs Ozzy would prefer to forget existed. Like he needed photographic evidence of his weight struggle, yet his mother refused to take down a single picture. At least she’d added the one he’d had taken when he’d passed his firefighter physical exam. Ozzy had been the one who had it framed and placed on the mantel for her. In some ways, his mother liked to pretend he was still the homebody teenager she used to dote on.
“Hey, Ma.” Ozzy set the reusable bags on the counter by the refrigerator. “Dad said the coffee machine’s busted again?”
“Ozzy, you’re early.” Bea, her faded brown hair tied into a knot at the base of her neck, smiled over her shoulder at him from where she stood at the sink. “I’m in the middle of baking your favorite. And I dragged out the old machine from the garage.” She pointed to the box by the back door. “You can take that home and fix it.”
“Great, thanks. Let me guess.” Ozzy tried not to cringe as the familiar intoxicating scent grabbed him by the nose. “Blueberry crumbcake pie?”
“You know it.” Bea toweled off her hands and faced him. “With my special ingredient.”
His mother’s special ingredient—a combination of lard and shortening—had been a major contributor to Ozzy’s lifelong battle with the scale. “I’ll take it to the station house with me. Roman and Jasper will be thrilled.”
“My son, the fireman.” Bea reached up and touched his cheek. “I can hardly believe it. You know, my bridge group says the same thing. Who can believe my pudgy little Ozzy’s a town hero now.”
“I’m no one’s hero, Ma.” He’d preferred the way Jo used the word, despite her meaning it as a joke. Her changing her mind about lunch with him yesterday had bothered him more than he wanted to admit. But he also wasn’t one to push where someone else didn’t want to go, and it was obvious Jo Bertoletti didn’t want to spend more time with him. It must have been those pictures, he reminded himself. Those stupid pictures that wouldn’t let anyone forget what he had been.
To distract himself from the desire to dive headfirst into his mother’s baking, he started unloading the produce. “Sounds to me like your bridge group needs a new topic of conversation.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we have one.” Bea came over and crossed her arms over her flower-print shirt. “Did you know the new foreman for the construction project is a woman!”
“Supervisor,” he corrected. “You don’t have to whisper, Ma. It’s not a secret. It’s also not a big deal.”
“She’s not just a woman. She’s pregnant! You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard. Can you imagine?”
“That a grown woman can get pregnant? Sure.” He could imagine it quite easily. Ozzy had to stop himself from slamming the crisper drawer closed. “Her name is Jo Bertoletti, and from what I’ve seen, she’s more than up to the job.”
“You’ve met her, then? What’s her story? Is she married? Is he going to join her here?”
“I have met her. She’s very nice. I don’t know her life story, but I do know she isn’t married, so I’m thinking no, he, whoever he is or was, won’t be joining her.” It didn’t help that Ozzy wanted the answer to those questions himself, but Jo had made it clear she preferred to be left alone.
“It’s just so...odd. A pregnant woman working construction.”
“Not just construction.” Ozzy decided he could have some fun with this. “She’s the boss. What’s wrong with that, Ma? I thought you were all for equality for women.”
“Well, yes, certainly I am.” Bea’s green eyes shifted away from his. “It came as a surprise is all. I can only imagine what Gil’s going to think.”
“From what I heard, he handled the situation with his usual aplomb and sensitivity.” The words nearly caught in his throat. “The buzzer’s buzzing.”
“What? Oh!” Bea spun toward the oven and pulled out not one, but two golden-crusted pies. “We’ll let these cool a bit and you can have a slice before work.”
“Actually, I can’t. I need to get in earlier than usual to help Jasper with something.” He couldn’t think of what at the moment, but he knew what would happen the second his mother got a plate of anything in front of him. He’d have to eat every crumb before she let him out of the house.
Food, at least as far as his mother was concerned, was love. It was how Bea Lakeman showed she cared. It was also how she dealt with her own emotions, by burying them in whatever she cooked or baked. Guilt over wanting to make his mother happy had had Ozzy scarfing down pretty much anything she put in his sight. The more he’d eaten, the bigger he’d gotten and the happier she’d become. Until finally, he’d had enough. In more ways than one.
“Well, that’s disappointing.” Without missing a beat she retrieved a pie caddy from a cabinet and got it ready for transport. “I’ll keep one for your father for dinner tonight. I’m making a nectarine and blueberry pie next. There were tons of blueberries at Calliope’s Friday morning. Maybe I’ll take it up to the construction site to welcome our new worker bee.”
Worker bee? Ozzy could only imagine how Jo would react to that title. “She’s still settling in, Ma. Maybe give her a few days to get used to us before we smother her with comfort food.”
“Hmm.”
Normally he’d just stay out of it and let his mother do what she was going to do, but he felt oddly protective about Jo. Not because she was fragile or that she couldn’t handle herself. She could. Any woman who lugged her entire home with her around the country was more than capable of taking care of herself and her baby.
But he’d gotten the distinct impression Jo wasn’t quite sure how to handle a community like Butterfly Harbor. It also appeared as if she didn’t have much experience with kids. It would take subtlety, something his mother was not known for, to ease her into the reality of this place. And possibly whatever the future had in store for her.
“Since I’ve already met her—” Ozzy scrambled to come up with a solution “—how about you bake the pie and write a nice note and I’ll take it to her. I’ll stop by tomorrow night and get it.”
Building a Surprise Family Page 9
