She smiled. “I gave birth to both of you. I pushed you each out of my vagina. When you can say the same about me, I’ll listen.”
With that, she picked up her bag and left.
* * *
Steven arrived right on time, but the second Zoe let him in the house, she could tell something was wrong. He looked tense and more than a little trapped.
“What?” she asked.
Steven set his toolbox on the floor of her entryway and leaned against the wall. “My mother. I can’t do it. I can’t give her any more dating advice. No matter how carefully I try to explain things, she won’t listen. And in the end, I’m the one who’s cringing. I don’t know how she does it, but she always wins.”
Zoe held in a grin as she moved in front of him. “Did she torture you?”
“I can’t talk about it. I swear if I repeat what she said, I’ll never get it up again.”
“That would be extremely sad.” She put her hand on his arm. “If it makes you feel better, I talked to my dad and that didn’t go well either.”
“I doubt he used the word vagina.”
“Um, no. He told me to mind my own business.”
“Good advice.” He looked at her. “You okay with us staying out of it?”
She made an X on her chest. “I swear that I am.”
He leaned in and kissed her. “Good. Because I’m not ready to stop making love with you.”
Words designed to warm a girl’s heart—and other places.
He picked up his toolbox. “I’m ready to tackle those stairs for you.”
“This way.”
They walked to her small hallway. Steven carefully lowered and raised the stairs a few times before putting sandpaper on a block. He asked her for an old sheet to protect the floor, then went to work, sanding the side of the old wooden stairs.
“I should probably ask what you’re doing so I can fix the stairs myself next time,” she said as she watched.
“Please don’t. Then I won’t feel important and necessary. If you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?”
She laughed. “Assuming your mom didn’t damage you permanently, I have several ideas.”
“I want to hear all of them.” He flashed her a grin, then returned his attention to his work.
She liked how he focused on what he did. How he was good with his hands. Her dad had always told her to find a man who was more than just interesting or fun to hang out with. That she would probably get stuck with the cooking and cleaning, and any man in her life needed to contribute, too. While Chad had been more than capable, he’d never actually helped much around the house.
“What are you thinking?” Steven asked unexpectedly.
“That my ex was more flash than substance.”
“Should I be worried that you’re thinking about him?”
“No. I’ve been thinking that he was never especially good for me. He worked as a master mechanic, but he never helped around the house. Like what you’re doing with the stairs.” She raised a shoulder. “I was thinking that I was really lucky to have met you.”
“Good. Keep thinking that.” He winked.
“I should probably reward you with dinner.”
“You probably should.” His smile faded. “Have you talked to Jen today?”
“No. I had a missed call from her but I didn’t want to call back while she was feeding Jack. Is everything okay?”
“Lucas was shot.”
“What? Oh, my God! When? What happened? Is Kirk okay?”
Steven filled her in on the basics of the shooting.
“She must be totally freaked,” Zoe murmured.
“She seemed all right when I saw her a bit ago, but she has to be scared. She wants to go back to the hospital tonight. I told her I’d come over and stay with Jack after he went to bed.”
“Want company?” Zoe asked. “I’d be happy to hang out with you. Plus I’d like to see Jen, even for a couple of minutes.”
“That would be great. With you along, I don’t have to worry if Jack wakes up.”
Zoe wasn’t sure she could handle the toddler any better than he could, but at least they would have each other. She thought about her friend and how terrified Jen must be right now—dealing with the fact that her husband had almost been shot. Saved only by his partner’s actions.
The world could be a scary place. Maybe Jen was right to fuss about things all the time. Maybe taking that much control was a reasonable way to feel safe.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you ready?” Pam asked as she parked in front of the large Spanish-style house a mere two miles from her own condo. She looked down at the dog in her lap. “We’re going to meet a new friend. She’s a papillon named Mariposa. She’s very pretty but not as pretty as you. Just so we’re clear.”
Lulu looked up, her ears forward, as if listening attentively.
“Are you nervous? I’m nervous.” She glanced at the house. Lush plants grew all around the front. The windows looked original and there was a beautiful tile roof. The neighborhood was upscale and older, with families who had lived in the area for generations.
She drew in a breath and smiled at Lulu. “You’re right. This is just a stall tactic and not a very good one. Let’s go.”
She picked up her little dog and got out of her car, then walked around to the passenger side to collect her bag. She set Lulu down on the front path and told her to go potty. Better to do that now than risk an accident in all the excitement.
Her business done, Lulu sniffed a few plants before returning to Pam and presenting herself, butt first, in the classic pick me up position. Pam drew her close. On the bright side, having her dog with her allowed her to focus on something other than her nerves.
“It’s just lunch,” she told herself. She would be fine. Miguel was a friend, nothing more.
She reached the wide, tiled front porch. The front door opened before she could knock. Miguel smiled at her.
“You came.”
He was as good-looking as she remembered. Just as appealing was the way he was holding Mariposa. The two dogs caught sight of each other and strained to start sniffing.
“Shall we?” he asked.
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
They both lowered their dogs to the foyer floor. Lulu stood her ground while Mariposa trotted toward her. They stared for a second, then did a quick butt-sniff exchange. Mariposa dropped to the puppy-play position—front end down, butt in the air, tail wagging. Lulu glanced at Pam, as if asking if it was okay.
“Go have fun,” she said. Lulu barked once and went running toward Mariposa, then the two dogs took off.
“They look good together,” Miguel said. “I like her sweater.”
Pam had dressed Lulu in a lightweight knit top that wouldn’t get in the way of romping, but would still keep her warm and protect her from the sun.
“The color looks good with her eyes,” Pam joked.
Miguel smiled. “You look lovely, as well.”
A simple compliment, but when delivered in that chocolate-velvet voice, she found it difficult not to swoon.
“The weather is warm enough for us to eat on the patio,” he said. “It’s this way.”
She followed him through a large, open living room to a huge kitchen. The Spanish influence was everywhere—from the high beamed ceilings to the tile throughout. She would guess the house had been built in the 1920s. The window casings were deep and several of the doorways were arched.
The kitchen itself blended modern touches—upscale stainless steel appliances and quartz countertops—with old-world elegance. The cabinets were heavy dark wood, roughly finished. There were open shelves and the backsplash was a blend of colorful tiles she would guess were ha
nd painted.
What was it Laura had complained about? That older men were only interested in nurses and purses? From what Pam could tell, Miguel wasn’t hurting financially and he seemed healthy enough.
He led her to a covered patio with glassed-in walls and a glass roof. The space was part sunroom, part gazebo. A round table had been set for lunch. She smiled when she saw two dog beds by the door. One looked well used while the other was obviously new. It was, she had to admit, an incredibly thoughtful touch that got past her defenses far more easily than any smooth compliment.
He held out her chair. She sat down and looked past him to the huge garden beyond. He had to have at least a half acre, maybe a little more, all landscaped. The back wall was stone and covered in bougainvillea.
“Beautiful,” she breathed. “Your house is lovely.”
He sat across from her and poured them each a drink from a glass pitcher filled with what she assumed was juice, sliced limes and ice.
“I like to think that while an ocean view is wonderful, my small garden has its own kind of charm.”
“It’s hardly small and it does.” She took a sip and nearly choked. “This is a margarita!”
He raised one shoulder. “Did you expect less?”
“A lot less. It’s barely noon.”
“Tequila can be enjoyed any time of the day.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “If you aren’t comfortable driving home, we’ll call an Uber. I’ll get your car back to you later today.”
Which was the correct response, she thought. Offering her safe transportation rather than inviting her to stay until she sobered up. She was torn between wondering if she’d misjudged him and the fact that he was far more experienced at this than she was. While she’d wanted to dismiss every ridiculous thing Steven had told her, she’d been unable to forget his horrifying statistics on STDs in people her age.
Not that she ever planned on having sex with Miguel, but still. The news had been off-putting.
Lulu and Mariposa came tearing through the patio and raced out onto the lawn.
“They’re getting along well,” she said.
“I’d hoped they would.” He rose. “Let me get the first course. I’ll be right back.”
First course? So there was more than one?
Miguel walked into the kitchen. Seconds later he was back with a beautiful salad of spring greens and tropical fruit. The dressing was both sweet and spicy and she had to admit the margarita only made everything taste more delicious.
“This is wonderful,” she said. “So you cook?” He hesitated just long enough for her to start laughing. “Never mind. I have my answer.”
“I never learned to cook,” he admitted. “I have neither the interest nor the talent. Someone comes in a few days a week to care for the house. She cooks for me, as well.”
“Of course she does,” Pam said with a laugh. “You have quite the life here.”
“I try to be comfortable.”
“I know you divorced a long time ago. No remarriages?”
“I was busy with work and travel.”
She speared a piece of papaya. “And young women.”
“One or two.”
“That’s not what I heard. My son is very concerned about your worldly ways. I wasn’t sure I should listen to him, but I’m beginning to wonder if he’s right about you.”
She was partially teasing and partially testing the waters, so to speak.
Miguel put down his fork and leaned toward her. “What would you like to know?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure.”
“Then I will tell you things and you can decide if there is more you need to know.”
That seemed fair.
“Constance and I were not well suited. I enjoyed my work and the travel and she was more content to stay home. At first she went with me, but she was shy and it was torture for her. When Zoe came along, she said she couldn’t travel anymore—not with a baby. I told her we would hire a nanny, but she didn’t want that, so our lives went in separate ways. By the time we divorced, we were already single, if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
“She was a good woman. A wonderful woman and a kind friend. I think I loved her more after we divorced than I did before. We were able to raise our daughter together, to stay in touch, all without the fights or expectations.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “What are you thinking?”
“That I hear the words and I can’t begin to relate to them.” She smiled. “But it’s nice that you and Constance stayed friends.”
“It was. She was an anchor in a way. Her and my daughter. I always knew when it was time to come home and see my girls.”
The affection in his voice made her like him more. She was glad that he and his ex-wife hadn’t hated each other. It spoke well of them as people. She understood that marriages failed, but it bothered her when there was so much anger between couples. It spilled over into everything else in their lives and hurt the children.
“You, on the other hand,” he said, “were married to the same man for how long?”
“Thirty-one years. I met John when I was a teenager. We had three children together.” She pulled back her hand and tucked it on her lap. “I thought we would grow old together. His death was very unexpected.”
Miguel nodded. “I would imagine you were devastated. With Constance, we knew the end was coming, yet it was still difficult. Losing a loved one is always hard, regardless of the circumstances. I still miss her.”
“I miss John, as well. Everything is so different now, yet he’s still a part of things.” She picked up her fork. “I have the friends I travel with, my wonderful grandson, my children. My life is full.”
“John is always with you.”
“I know. I take comfort in that.”
She supposed her friends would tell her this was truly awful conversation for what was supposed to be a date. But if she and Miguel couldn’t talk about their pasts, then they didn’t have much of a future. She was who she was today because she had been with John for so long.
“You’re strong,” he told her.
“I suppose I am. I was always fairly competent, but I’m not sure I would have said I was strong. Now I’ve had to learn to be. I bought my condo and I’ve moved on.”
“Do you regret selling the family house?”
“I didn’t sell it. I gave it to my daughter. She lives there with her husband and her son. So I get back all the time.” She laughed. “Every now and then I want to complain about the changes she’s made, but then I have to remind myself that it’s not my house anymore. So if she wants to paint or replace the carpet, I keep my mouth shut.”
He chuckled, then rose and cleared the salad. Pam looked out in the yard. Both Mariposa and Lulu were stretched out in the sun, as if they’d exhausted each other playing.
Miguel returned with the main course. “Grilled chicken with polenta cakes,” he said as he refilled her glass.
Pam thought about stopping him, then decided she would enjoy herself. There was always Uber.
She took a drink. “You never thought about remarrying after Constance?”
“No. I wasn’t interested in settling down.”
“Too many beautiful women?” she asked, her voice teasing.
“Yes. There was that. Also, I didn’t want to have regrets. I know I hurt Constance and Zoe when I left. We recovered, but there is still a wound. Falling in love again seemed more of a risk than I was willing to take.”
“I know what you mean. I can’t imagine ever caring about anyone the way I cared about John. He was my world. I don’t think I would risk that again.” She was starting to feel the tequila. It was the only explanation for her suddenly blurting out, “I’m not getting married again. I’ll alwa
ys be John’s wife.”
Her words hung out there for several seconds. Pam felt her cheeks heat, but didn’t call back the statement. While she knew that a couple of dates didn’t mean she and Miguel had progressed past casual acquaintances and there was no reason to suspect he would ever want to be more, she couldn’t help needing to be clear to him and maybe to herself.
He looked at her, his dark gaze steady. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I can see that.” He pointed to her plate. “Try the polenta. I think you’ll like it. Louisa does an excellent job with it.”
She took a bite. “It’s delicious.” She waited to see if he had more to say about her proclamation, but when it seemed he didn’t, she said, “Tell me about where you enjoyed traveling the most.”
“Anywhere tropical.” He smiled. “And not because of the young women in bikinis.”
“Did I say anything?”
“You were thinking it. I could tell.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t, but I am now.”
They talked about his travels and hers. She told him about the cruise she was taking with her friends in a few weeks. They didn’t discuss Constance again, or John, but Pam felt as if she’d been clear on her feelings. Apparently he was fine with them. Maybe this dating thing wasn’t so very hard after all.
* * *
Zoe waited at the bottom of the little kid slide in the park while Jen helped Jack into position.
“You ready?” Jen asked, her tone light. “I’m going to let go.”
Jack waved his arms, then shrieked with laughter as he made his way down the slide. Zoe caught him and helped him to his feet. He pointed to the slide and raced back to the short ladder, indicating he wanted to go again.
He really didn’t talk, Zoe thought. Jen wasn’t imagining that. But he made himself understood, so that was good. She was careful not to say anything. Jen was barely holding it together. She’d been spending all her free time at the hospital with Kirk’s partner. Zoe had stayed with Jack twice already and Jen’s family was helping out when they could.
A Million Little Things--A Novel Page 17
