The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  Lulu was too busy licking her bowl to answer.

  Pam rolled out the biscuits and put them on the cookie sheet. She covered them with a clean towel and started the oven. She’d barely finished setting the table when she heard the faint rumble of the garage door opener. Lulu took off running down the hall, barking and yipping in excitement.

  A few minutes later John walked into the kitchen, their ridiculous dog in his arms. Pam smiled at him and turned her head for their evening kiss. As their lips touched, Lulu scrambled from his arms to hers, then swiped both their chins with her tongue.

  “How was your day?” John asked.

  “Good. Yours?”

  “Not bad.”

  As he spoke he crossed to the bottle of wine she’d put on the counter in the butler’s pantry off the kitchen. It was a Cab from a winery they’d visited a few years ago on a trip to Napa.

  “Steven’s working on a bid for that new hotel everyone’s been talking about. It’s right on the water. Upscale to the max. He said they were talking about the possibility of twenty-four-karat gold on the faucets in the penthouse. Can you believe it?”

  “No. Who would do that? It’s a hotel. Everything has to be scrubbed down daily. How do you clean gold?”

  “I know.” John opened the drawer to pull out the foil cutter. “It’s a bathroom. They’re idiots. But if the check clears, what do I care?”

  As they spoke, she studied the man she’d been married to for thirty-one years. He was tall, just over six feet, with thick hair that had started going gray. The dark blond color meant the gray wasn’t noticeable, but it was there. Being a man, it only made him look more appealing. A few months ago he’d asked why she wasn’t going gray, too. When she’d reminded him of her visits every six weeks to her hair person, he’d been shocked. John was such a typical guy, it had never occurred to him she colored her hair. Because he thought she was naturally beautiful.

  Silly man, she thought affectionately, as she watched him.

  He had a few wrinkles around his eyes, but otherwise looked as he had when they’d first met. Those broad shoulders had always appealed to her. These days he claimed he needed to lose ten or fifteen pounds, but she thought he looked just fine.

  He was handsome, in a rugged kind of way. He was a good man. Kind and generous. He loved his wife and his kids and his routine. While he had his faults, they were minor and ones she could easily live with. In truth, she had no complaints about John. It was the her-getting-older thing she found faintly annoying.

  He pulled out the cork and tested it with his thumbnail, then poured them each a glass of Cab. She slid the biscuits into the oven and set the timer.

  “What are we having?” he asked as he handed her a glass.

  “Beef burgundy and biscuits.”

  His mouth turned up in an easy smile. “I’m a lucky man.”

  “Even luckier. You’ll be taking leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”

  “You know I love me some leftovers.”

  He wasn’t kidding, she thought as she followed him through the kitchen. His idea of heaven was any kind of red meat with leftovers for lunch the following day. He was easy to please.

  They went into the sunroom off the back of the house. In the cooler months, the glass room stayed warm. In the summer, they removed the glass and used the space for outdoor living.

  Lulu followed them, then jumped up on the love seat where Pam always sat and settled next to her. Pam rubbed her dog’s ears as John leaned back in his chair—a recliner with a matching mate in the family room—and sighed heavily.

  “Hayley’s pregnant again,” he said. “She told me this morning. She’s waiting until three months to make a public announcement.”

  Pam felt her mouth twist. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “That poor girl.”

  “I hope this one takes,” John said. “I don’t know how much more of her suffering I can stand.”

  Hayley was John’s secretary and desperate to have children, but she’d miscarried four times over the past three years. This would be try number five. Rob, Hayley’s husband, wanted to look into adoption or a surrogate, but Hayley was obsessed with having a baby the old-fashioned way.

  “I should send her a card,” Pam said, then shook her head. “Maybe not.” She took a sip of her wine. “I have no idea how to handle this.”

  “Don’t look at me. You’re in woman territory.”

  “Where if you stray too far, you’ll grow breasts?”

  “Damned straight.”

  “I’ll write a note,” she decided. “I can say we’re rooting for her without a you’re-having-a-baby message. Did the doctor say she would be okay if she could get to three months?”

  Her husband forehead furrowed. “I don’t know. She probably told me, but I barely want to know if she goes to the bathroom. Baby stuff is too intimate.”

  “You’re not a complex man, are you?”

  He raised his glass to her. “And that’s why you love me.”

  He was right. She did love that he was dependable and predictable. Even if every now and then she wanted something different in their lives. A surprise trip to somewhere or a fancy bracelet. But that wasn’t John’s style. He would never plan a trip without talking to her and as for buying jewelry, he was more of a “go buy yourself something pretty” kind of man.

  She didn’t object. She’d seen too many of her friends endure surprises of the not-very-pleasant kind. Ones that involved other women or divorces. John wasn’t looking for more than she had to offer. He liked his routine and knowing that gave her comfort.

  “Jen got mail from the high school today,” she said. “An invitation to her ten-year reunion.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t think it’s stunning that we have a daughter old enough to have been out of high school ten years?”

  “She’s twenty-eight. So the reunion is right on time.”

  Pam sipped her wine. “I was shocked. I’m not ready to have a daughter that old.”

  “Too late to send her back now. She’s used.”

  Despite her earlier distress, Pam laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

  “I won’t.” He smiled at her. “And you’re not old, sweetheart. You’re barely in your prime.”

  “Thanks.” She heard the timer chime and stood. “That’s our dinner.”

  He scooped up Lulu and followed Pam back to the kitchen. As Pam went about serving the meal, she reminded herself she was a very lucky woman. That a bit of sagging and a few lumps and bumps didn’t change who she was as a person. Her life was a blessing. If there weren’t any tingles anymore, well, that was to be expected. Wasn’t she forever hearing that you couldn’t have it all?

  * * *

  It’s just drinks, Shannon told herself as she pushed open the door that led into Olives—the martini bar/restaurant where she was meeting her date. Her online date.

  She wanted to pause and maybe bang her head against the wall. Why did she do this to herself? It never went well. Dating wasn’t her strong suit. It just wasn’t. She was a successful businesswoman. She earned mid six figures and fully funded her 401K every single year. She had friends, she had a beautiful condo with an ocean view. Okay, there had been a string of boyfriends over the years and she’d been engaged twice, for no more than fifteen minutes each time. But no marriage. Not for her.

  The truth was, she didn’t have good romantic relationships. Maybe it was her, maybe it was me
n, but she had to accept the truth that having it all simply wasn’t going to happen. Not to her. So why was she back dealing with the nightmare that was dating? Worse—online dating.

  The only saving grace was that ProfessionalLA.com was a halfway decent site that actually screened subscribers. So the guy was going to look like his profile picture and wouldn’t have any felony convictions in his past. But the distance from that to happily-ever-after seemed insurmountable.

  Still, she was here. She would go in and say hi. She would be pleasant and as soon as she was able to duck out without seeming wildly rude, she would run back to her office, get her car and head home. One glass of wine, she promised herself. She could survive that. Maybe what’s-his-name would be great.

  She paused for a second, as panic set in. What was his name? Crap. Double crap. She kept moving even as her brain hustled toward whatever synapses stored short-term memory. Andrew? A something. Adam? Right. Adam. Adam something she would never remember. He sold cars maybe. He was about her age, divorced and possibly blond?

  She made a mental note to spend a little more time with the profiles, even as she scanned the people in the bar and hoped to find someone who looked vaguely familiar.

  A man rose and smiled at her. He was about six feet, with dark hair and eyes and a crooked smile. He was tanned and fit, but not in a look-at-me kind of way. And he was staring at her as if she had a monkey on her head.

  She did her best to appear casual as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed by Taylor Swift or someone else who would cause a grown man to simply stare. There wasn’t anyone of note. So she kept moving toward him and hoped for the best.

  “Shannon?” he asked as she got closer.

  “Yes. Hi.”

  “I’m Adam.” He held out his hand and they shook. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  He continued to look at her in a way that made her wonder if she’d forgotten to check her teeth or had grown a wart on her nose in the five minutes it had taken her to walk from the office to the bar. It couldn’t be that she looked different from her picture. She’d used a business head shot. Nothing that would overpromise.

  They sat down.

  Olives was the kind of place that catered to locals and tourists alike. The bar was well lit, without a diner feel. Tables were spaced far enough apart that you didn’t have to worry about everyone listening to your conversation. The restaurant was upscale-casual, with an eclectic menu. Except for a few paintings of olives and martini glasses on the walls, they hadn’t gone crazy with the motif.

  Shannon liked it for a first date because she came here just enough to be familiar with the staff and all the exits. If a first date went bad, she could easily call for help or bolt. It was also within walking distance of her office, which meant she didn’t have to worry about a second drink before driving. If it was time to leave, but she wasn’t ready to get behind the wheel, she simply returned to her office and did something mindless until she was ready to make the six-minute commute to her condo.

  Adam’s gaze was steady. Shannon couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “You’re staring at me,” she said, trying to keep her voice as friendly as possible. “Is something wrong?”

  His eyes widened, then he glanced away before returning his attention to her. “No. Sorry. Jeez, I’m being an idiot. It’s just…you. Wow. You sent a picture and it was so great, I figured there had to be a mistake. Then when I saw you just now and you were even more beautiful in person…” He verbally stumbled to a stop, then cleared his throat.

  “Can we start over or do you want to leave?”

  His expression was both chagrined and hopeful. Shannon tried to remember the last time anyone had been so rattled by her looks. She knew she was pretty enough and when she made an effort, she could up her game, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who left men tongue-tied. Or staring.

  She smiled. “We can start over.”

  “Good. I’ll do my best not to be scary.” He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Shannon.”

  “Apparently.”

  He chuckled and motioned to the server. “What can I get you to drink?”

  She ordered a glass of the house red while he chose a Scotch. He added the fruit and cheese plate to the order. When they were alone again, she leaned back in her chair.

  He was nice, she thought. A little awkward, which meant he didn’t date a lot. At least he wasn’t a player. She didn’t need any more of them in her life. Divorced, if she remembered correctly.

  “So, Adam,” she said. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Everything that had been in his profile, she thought, wishing she’d paid just a little more attention. The thing was she didn’t like online dating. She counted on the service to screen the men and then moved fairly quickly to a meeting. For her, emails and a couple of calls didn’t provide any insight into how things would go in person.

  “Do you live in the area?” she asked.

  “Sure.” The smile returned. “I was born and raised right here in Mischief Bay. Most of my family is still in the area, which means it’s hard to get away with anything.”

  “Do you try to get away with things?”

  The smile turned into a laugh. “I gave that up when I was a teenager. I’m a bad liar and if I cross the line, I get caught. So I don’t bother with either anymore.”

  His smile faded. “You’re not in to bad boys, are you?”

  She had been, and had the heart scars to prove it. “Not anymore. They’re great in theory, but life isn’t about theories. It’s about real people who take the time to show up.”

  “I agree.”

  They were on opposite sides of a small table. Adam leaned toward her. “You’re in finance?”

  “Yes. I’m a CFO for a software company.”

  She tried to speak normally, knowing that when she mentioned her job she tended to be both defensive and proud. An awkward combination at best.

  The problem was some men resented her success and some men were intimidated by it. A few had seen her as a way to the easy life, but fortunately they weren’t usually very subtle about their hopes of being kept. The ones who accepted that she’d done well and worked hard were often the keepers, albeit rare and therefore hard to find.

  “Are you in line to be president next?” he asked.

  She smiled. “No. I’m comfortable being the queen of the checkbook. I like the financial side of things.” She shifted toward him and lowered her voice. “Software is not my thing. I’m better than most on a computer, but it’s never been easy for me. You should see some of the college kids we hire every year. They’re brilliant. What about you?”

  “Not brilliant.”

  She laughed. “Thanks for the share. I meant, tell me about your work.”

  “Oh, that. My family’s in construction. Large projects, mostly. Office buildings, hotels. I’m the foreman on a hotel we’re dealing with now. It’s just south of Marina del Rey. It’s high-end, twenty stories.”

  Impressive, she thought. “Foreman sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

  Adam grinned. “I stand around and tell other people what to do. It beats a real job.”

  Their server arrived with their drinks and the cheese plate. Adam raised his glass.

  “To unexpected surprises.”

  She touched her glass to his and thought he was certainly that and more. She’d had no expectations for
their date, but here she was, having a nice time. So far Adam was funny and charming. There had even been hints of his being genuinely nice. She knew better than to get her hopes up, but the evening was turning out better than she’d anticipated.

  “Tell me about the family that doesn’t let you get away with anything,” she said.

  “I’m one of five kids and I could practically walk to four of their houses from here. Same with my parents.” He shrugged. “My youngest brother is back east, but then he’s always felt he had something to prove.”

  She stared at him. “You’re one of five?”

  “I know. I told my dad they figured out what causes pregnancy, but he said he and Mom always wanted a big family. I have to say it was a fun way to grow up.”

  “And loud,” she murmured.

  “Yeah, there was noise.”

  “How many boys and girls?”

  “Three boys, two girls, and we alternate. I’m in the middle. My older brother was never interested in the family business. He’s a graphic designer. Very talented. My older sister always wanted to be a veterinarian, so by the time I was six or seven, Dad was starting to get nervous that no one was going to go into the business. Fortunately my idea of a good time was building things. I got my first job at the company when I was fourteen.”

  He took a piece of cheese. “I know. Not very exciting.”

  “Exciting is highly overrated,” she murmured. All this and stable, too. So what was the flaw? Emotional unavailability? A secret life as a serial killer? There had to be something, because to be honest, her luck simply wasn’t that good.

  “Where did you grow up?” he asked.

  “Riverside. I’m an only child, so I can’t relate to your noise. My house was always quiet.”

  “Were you the smartest girl in the class?”

  “Sometimes. I liked math, which made me unacceptable to most groups. But I wasn’t brilliant enough to major in it. Finance seemed like an interesting way to spend my days.”

  His brown eyes crinkled with amusement. “If I had a nickel for every time I looked forward to spending time working on the company’s financial records…”