Mr. Maybe

by M. Kate Quinn

  “Hello, ma’am.” He extended his hand. “I’m Shane.”

  Mom let go of her hold on Kit and pulled Shane into her arms. “Shane,” she said over his shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. Oh, you smell good.”

  Jiffy Pop was going on inside Kit’s chest with a steady stream of popping in her heart. Lordy, Mom, let the poor guy go. And don’t get too attached.

  Regina finally released him. She let her gaze flit between her daughter and the man beside her. “Oh, what a lovely couple you two make. And I can tell right away you are meant for each other.” She clapped her hands. “What beautiful babies you’ll make.”

  “Mom,” Kit said through the clench of her jaw.

  Regina waved her off. “Let your mother have some fun. You don’t mind, do you, Shane? I’m just teasing you.”

  “Don’t mind at all.” He smiled. “Can I help you with your luggage?”

  “Yes, that would be nice.” Regina flashed an approving look at Kit. “Come on.” Mom crooked her arm through Kit’s. “Let’s go join the party.”

  Together they navigated the cement steps to Aunt Dee Dee’s front door. Shane followed with a piece of Mom’s luggage in each hand. On the stoop Mom pressed her well-manicured finger on the doorbell. She gave it a series of taps. With each tap, another round of popping fired into Kit’s chest, so much so her insides were running out of space for air.

  Aunt Dee Dee greeted them first. Arms locked around each other, the two sisters laughed and rocked. The women were the same height, and it never ceased to amaze Kit how they tended to dress alike right down to the gold-tone, block-heeled sandals.

  “You look fabulous, tan and rested,” Dee Dee cooed to which Mom did a quick pirouette to give her sister a full-circle look.

  “Notice how the gold-and-silver scarf complements my shoes? I bought it in Cozumel.”

  “Very chic.” Dee Dee waved them inside with a hand. “Come in.”

  Shane placed the luggage in a corner of the foyer and came up beside Kit. She fiddled with the snap on her purse. Shouldn’t they be holding hands or something? She didn’t have the nerve to reach for his. She did, however, nudge herself a little closer so their arms nearly touched.

  “Come here, you!” Dee Dee pulled Kit into her embrace, the funeral-floral scent twice as pungent today. She put her hands on Kit’s cheeks. “Oh! You look so happy!” She reached a hand over to Shane, and he obligingly held it. “What a pleasure this is to see you.”

  Kit couldn’t help it; an errant thought zipped into her, as if a bee had flown into her ear and was looking for a way out. Of course, Dee Dee would be happy to see her with a man at her side. He was the prop that would banish any leftover sourness on how the lovely bride-to-be and Brian came to be together. She closed her eyes and willed the thought away. Thanks to her new tenant, whatever this circumstance, she’d found a way to deal. She cast him a grateful look.

  Dee Dee ushered them into the living room, which brimmed with guests. Some milled about, while others sat in covered folding chairs, the white fabric draped to the floor, and on the plush furniture. A portable bar was set up in the corner, manned by a tender in a white dress shirt and a black-satin vest.

  “Get yourselves a drink and say hello to everyone.” Dee Dee grabbed Regina, and the two sisters disappeared through the doorway to the dining room. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she called back over her shoulder. “Co-Co and Brian are in the kitchen. Go say hi.”

  Kit pulled her gaze over to Shane. “Should we just get it over with?” she whispered.

  “Want to get a glass of pink wine first?”

  “I should get a shot of tequila, but yeah, I’ll take some wine.”

  She accepted a glass of white zinfandel from the bartender, and Shane had a beer.

  He tapped the bottle’s neck against her glass. “Cheers,” he said.

  She took a good pull of the semisweet wine.

  “Kit!”

  She didn’t have to look to know it was her cousin. Co-Co’s voice pierced the air with a pitch high enough to bust an eardrum.

  Co-Co stood with her arm crooked through Brian’s. Brian! He stood there beside Co-Co with his new schoolboy haircut that accentuated the cowlick at the crown of his head, and he bore a sheepish expression so apparent it was as if someone had smashed a pie of contrition in his face. An awkward smile played over his lips, and it reminded Kit of two worms wrestling.

  Co-Co, in a white-lace little shift that hugged her lean gym-rat lines and accentuated her well-toned arms, clapped her hands like a kid at a parade. Her hair was blown back over her crown, her makeup impeccably applied. Even Kit had to admit she looked stunning in a Barbie-gets-married kind of way.

  Co-Co pulled Kit into a quick embrace and turned to Shane. “Welcome, Shane,” she cooed. Co-Co cooed when she spoke to men, any man—the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker. It didn’t matter.

  “Hi,” he said. “Um, congratulations.”

  “This,” she said with a voice brimming with pride, “is Brian.”

  “Shane Dugan.”

  The two men shook hands. Kit’s gaze locked on the scene, as if it were a dream or perhaps a nightmare. She watched the two guys take each other in.

  “Good to meet you,” Brian said, then refocused his gaze. “Hi, Kit.”

  “Hello, Brian.”

  The four stood near the bar while people moved around them and chitchat buzzed in the air. They were a tableau of what had been and what was.

  “How are things at Rosie’s?” Brian asked finally.

  “Busy,” she lied. Falsehoods were her new way of life.

  “You think you’re busy?” Co-Co snorted. “I don’t have a minute to breathe these days. Fittings, shopping, floral details, the music selections, the dance lessons.”

  “Dance lessons?”

  Co-Co snuggled against Brian, and he slipped an arm around her in a possessive tuck. “Yes, Brian and I are taking dance lessons for the wedding so our first dance will be spectacular.”

  “And he’s is on board for that?” She pulled her gaze over to him and tried to picture tall, lanky Brian and his size thirteen feet doing some fox-trot for the sake of a videographer. She didn’t think he had it in him. However, the only thing she really knew for sure about him was that he was a douche.

  “I got my shoes already,” Co-Co stage-whispered. “I think I’ll wear them to my first dance lesson. It’s not bad luck for the groom to see me in my wedding shoes, is it?”

  “Just don’t sprain yourself doing the electric slide.”

  Hearing Shane’s chuckle helped loosen the constriction in her chest.

  “Electric slide? You’re silly. Anyway, Kitty-Cat, thank you for what you’re doing for me with regard to my dress, which we will not discuss in front of you-know-who over here.” She giggled. “Seriously, Kit, you’re a lifesaver.” Co-Co made a kissing sound that irritated Kit’s ears. “You’re too good to me.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  Aunt Dee Dee came into the room and announced dinner was served and everyone could come find their place cards, which was typically la-di-da of her. Kit watched Co-Co and Brian as they walked away and into the dining room.

  While she and Shane went to find their seats, she did her best to banish thoughts about Co-Co and Gram’s dress and her goddamn dance lessons with Brian. Brian dancing. That was priceless. Brain didn’t dance. He tripped over those torpedo feet of his all the time. She tried to picture the two of them twirling around a dance floor and made herself dizzy.

  She looked over at Shane, so handsome in his Sunday best, and her heart warmed at the good sportsmanship in this cute fireman. A thought flitted through her head again about Brian and Co-Co memorizing practiced dance steps that would take them in circles, leading nowhere. She was reminded of Shane’s conversation about Dana, the way he confided in her about how he wondered whether or not they were going anywhere. As if he sensed her thoughts, he turned to her and winked. Her foolish hea
rt giddyupped.

  “Look at you two,” Kit’s mom said from her place at the table. Her eyes were bright with approval, and a nonsensical flush of gladness warmed Kit’s cheeks.

  She and Shane shared a look, and he reached for her hand. It was a gesture meant to fulfill their agreement, for sure. But Kit couldn’t help noticing the warmth of his palm and the possessiveness of his touch. If she weren’t careful, she’d fail to remember this was just an illusion.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shane sat at the dining table with Kit at his right and Co-Co to his left. This little bride-to-be never shut up. She warbled like a bird on a branch.

  He hadn’t yet had the chance to talk with Kit again about his latest conversation with Dana and how she’d reacted to his and Kit’s unusual arrangement. She hadn’t liked the idea one bit and had called him a pushover. “You’re always acting first and thinking later,” she’d said.

  The accusation hadn’t been fair. He wasn’t impulsive, not the way Dana was. He’d never contemplate living in another country just because someone made the offer, not without first considering the impact it would make.

  After Kit had opened up about how she and Brian hadn’t fit, he’d wanted to tell her what was going on inside him. Somehow he wanted her to know there was a crevasse in his relationship that had more to do with the people he and Dana were on a fundamental level than it had to do with their being on different continents or his agreement to play the part of Kit’s boyfriend. But he hadn’t had the chance, nor did he really think he could formulate the words.

  He was glad he’d talked with Hop about it, although he didn’t know what possessed him to open up to the captain the way he had. Hop wasn’t surprised Shane found Kit attractive, intriguing, fun to be around. Hop loved Kit. Shane hadn’t missed the earnestness in Hop’s tone in that subtle warning not to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough.

  Beside him, Kit buttered her dinner roll. She cut the pat in half with the edge of her knife and spread the butter over the open roll. She paused, butter knife in hand, and then went back for the other half of the pat to finish the job. A smile fought to claim his mouth, but he managed to keep it in check when she looked up at him.

  “Today carbs are my friend.” She took a big bite of her roll, and as she chewed, a dab of butter clung to her upper lip.

  “Any friend of yours.” He reached for his own dinner roll.

  She leaned in closer as she pushed the butter dish in his direction, and he inhaled her scent. She smelled like the honeysuckle that grew in a grouping near the riverbank outside the back deck.

  “So far, so good,” she whispered, her breath at his ear.

  “No SOS necessary.”

  “Don’t jinx us.”

  “So”—Co-Co leaned forward—“what are you two conspiring about?”

  “We’re discussing how good the rolls are.” Kit took another big bite.

  “Oh, Kitty-Cat. I envy the way you don’t seem to worry about what you eat. I’m always counting every calorie.” She patted her nearly concave midsection.

  “Lucky for Kit, she doesn’t have to,” Shane interjected. He pinned on a smile, as if he’d won a round.

  Co-Co shifted in her seat. “Let’s hear how you two met.”

  Kit pointed to her mouth as her teeth worked over the bread. He flashed her a look she read loud and clear—thanks a lot.

  “We met at Jabberwocky’s,” Shane said. “She was at the bar waiting for her friend, and I just couldn’t resist going over to her.”

  Shane did not miss how Brian leaned in closer to listen.

  “Tell me more,” Co-Co cooed as she placed an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Was it love at first sight?”

  He looked over at Kit, who took another bite of her dinner roll. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. She was a cagey one.

  “It was.” He reached over and put an arm along the back of Kit’s chair. “For me, anyway.”

  “How about it, Kit?” Co-Co leaned even more forward, almost putting her face on the table. “Was it like that for you, too?”

  She flicked the tip of her tongue across the butter-slick pink cushion of her lower lip. She met his gaze and held it.

  He bent forward to address Kit. “We just clicked.”

  Co-Co, seemingly satisfied, turned toward Brian, who was listening intently. Shane couldn’t read his face, but unless he was having gastrointestinal distress, this conversation was making him uncomfortable.

  “Like us, honey,” Co-Co said in her syrupy tone. “Right, Brian?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

  Shane didn’t like this Brian guy. He didn’t like his looks or his demeanor. He seemed like a wimp, and what guy on the planet would do to Kit what he had done? Brian was a moron.

  ****

  Throughout dinner Kit was amazed at how easily Shane talked with the guests. He complimented Aunt Dee Dee on the meal, although all she did was select menu items from the caterer. It was not the gratuitous chitchat that some people proffered. Everything Shane said appeared to be unplanned, genuine. She was in trouble. She was really starting to like him. Hard to believe a few months ago she’d declared men were more trouble than they were worth. That was before Shane Dugan showed up.

  After dessert, guests milled about with after-dinner drinks. Some people wandered out onto the patio through the french doors off the living room. One of Dee Dee’s nephews from Uncle Larry’s side, Paul, had cornered Shane about his new hobby of fly-fishing, a sport Shane appeared to know a bit about. Paul’s young daughter Abigail, Co-Co’s junior bridesmaid, gazed up at Shane with a moony-eyed look of a girl with a crush. Kit’s mouth curved upward.

  Her gaze flitted to the doorway to the dining room, a view she couldn’t avoid at this point in the evening after a couple of glasses of zinfandel. There was no sign of the hole in the molding where a pushpin had held the mistletoe in place in the center of the doorway. It must have been painted over, the smooth line of the wood like brand new.

  She walked through the doorway and made her way to the big windows in the living room. She put her back to the view when it conjured the image of Christmas Eve’s dash over the icy driveway to get away from Brian and Co-Co.

  A few steps away Shane was in conversation with Paul, making the guy laugh, which in turn made Shane laugh as well.

  “Hi.” Abigail did a pirouette in front of Kit. “Mama said she and Daddy are taking dance lessons. I take ballet.”

  “You’re doing that turn very well, Abigail. Your lessons are paying off.”

  “I’m going to be a ballerina when I grow up. But I’m only nine now.”

  An arm wrapped around her shoulders. Mom. She gave Kit a kiss on her cheek, gave her a squeeze.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Kitrina.” Mom’s voice was thick with emotion, making Kit turn to meet her eyes.

  “What is it, Mom?”

  “You.” The crevices by her eyes were deep when she smiled. “I’m just happy to be here with you. I like your Shane.”

  A zing of guilt climbed Kit’s spine like cold fingers tracing along each vertebra. But she managed a “thanks.”

  “Sweetie.” Mom squeezed her again. “It’s okay to feel nervous.”

  “Nervous? What are you talking about?”

  Mom pointed to Kit’s face. “Nobody knows you like your mama. Never forget that, girl of mine. I see the way you look at that man.”

  “Not sure I follow, Mom.” She pulled her gaze away, looked down at her dress, and brushed off a nonexistent piece of lint.

  “Come with me.” Mom grabbed her hand. “Let’s get away from big ears.”

  She dragged Kit away from the living room and ushered her down the hallway to the study.

  The entire time Kit practiced the SOS signal. Would Shane hear it from the vantage point of Aunt Dee Dee’s study?

  In the square, paneled room, Mom pushed her down on the overstuffed loveseat. She took a se
at beside her.

  “Mom, this is silly. Why are we here?”

  “To talk without my sister being Miss Nosy Pants.” She leaned in close. “Ever since that whole mess with your cousin and Brian, things have been touchy.”

  Touchy. Kit smiled. That was one way to put it. With this family’s habit of brushing their missteps under the proverbial carpet, the furniture should be tipped over from the uneven flooring.

  “It’s all behind us now, Mom. Co-Co and Brian are happy. I’m happy. Case closed.”

  “I’m glad, sweetie. That Brian wasn’t for you anyway.” She reached out and squeezed Kit’s hand. “But I did catch that look you were giving Shane.”

  “What look?”

  Mom shrugged one shoulder. In her sleeveless dress, her shoulder was tan and freckled from the sun. “Worried.”

  “Worried?” She scoffed. “Worried about what?” Did mother radar ever dry up or at least run low?

  “Listen to me.” Mom’s eyes implored. “And listen good. I see there’s real affection with you two. A mother knows. But I also sense your hesitation, almost like you’re afraid to give in to it or like you think meeting Shane was too good to be true. Don’t think like that.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, and Mom hushed her by lifting her index finger. “Let me finish…” She settled on the seat and like royalty, crossed her legs at the ankle. “Do not let what happened with Brian taint your new relationship. Too many times we do that to ourselves, we women. We are always waiting for a shoe to drop. Don’t. Enjoy it. There is no shoe that’s going to fall from the sky and land on this new chapter of your life. Okay?”

  Sadness or shame—Kit couldn’t tell which—poured over her head like a bucket of paint, covering every inch of her, suffocating the fantasy she’d allowed herself just minutes ago. When her mother pulled her into a hug, she hugged her back harder. She felt sorry for her mother. The woman didn’t even realize that she herself was the shoe that fell onto Kit’s head and knocked much-needed sense back into her. Shane belonged to another. She’d almost forgotten.