He did. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he did. Plates in the cabinet next to the sink. Silverware by the stove and glasses next to the pantry. It was as if he had never left.
“So, how is Mr. Donnelly?” he asked.
“Joe died about five years back,” Aunty Em said. “Car accident when he was in Florida.”
“What a shame. He was a good man.” A man who put the need for dreams above the need for money. Brad finished setting the table in silence. “So, Penny runs the company now.”
“And doing a right good job at it, too,” she said. “She’s a big shot in the Oz festival. Was on TV last week. Maybe you saw it.”
“Uh, no,” he said. “I don’t see much TV. But Dorothy mentioned it”
“Did she? Such a sweet girl.”
“Seems as nice as ever.”
“She is. So, Brad, you got a wife?”
Brad just stared at the old woman, startled by the abrupt change of directions. “No, ma’am.”
“Hear that, Penny?” Aunty Em said.
Brad was even more startled and turned. Sure enough, there was Penny at the foot of the stairs, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He hadn’t heard a sound, though Aunty Em certainly had.
“Yes, I can hardly control my excitement,” Penny said dryly and went over to the stove. She peered into the pot, then over at Brad. “Want any bread or salad?”
“No, the stew is fine.” Some air would be nice, though. Just enough so that he could breathe again.
He sat down at the kitchen table, feeling the weariness wash over him. This had all been a monumental mistake. He should have stayed over in Chicago and driven out here for the day. Coming as he had in the evening had been asking for trouble. And he’d found it.
He just had to steel himself, though. Get a good night’s sleep and in the morning he would be fine. He would be himself again, in control.
“You want to get Brad something to drink?” Aunty Em said to Penny as she dished up the stew.
“Sure. What’ll you have? We’ve got milk, coffee or tea.”
“Milk would be fine.”
Aunty Em brought his plate over to the table. “You want anything else, give Penny your orders. Time for me to lay these old bones to bed.” She paused to pat his arm. “It is good to see you again, boy.”
“And great to see you, too.” He dug into the stew. It was better than he remembered her food being, and he remembered it as being great.
After Aunty Em had shuffled down the back hallway to her room, silence rushed in to fill the void.
“So you’re a bachelor?” Penny said after a few moments.
He looked up as he nodded, surprised to see a grimace on her face. Why would Penny care whether he was single or not?
“Where do you live?”
“Wherever I hang my hat.” No need to get into his hatless state. Actually, he had a condo in L.A., but he hardly ever spent time there.
“Doesn’t that make holding down a job hard?”
He could have said no, since it was for his consulting work that he traveled. Or he could have said it made no difference since he had two million in the bank and several more millions of dollars worth of common stock. But something wouldn’t let him tell her and he just went on eating.
He wanted her to see on her own that he was doing well. He wanted her to notice the limited edition, gold-and-platinum Rolex on his wrist or the custom-made shoes he’d left over by the door. Or remember she’d seen him written up in the paper when he’d invested several million dollars in Rented Dented Car Rentals, now the third largest car rental chain. Mostly he wanted her to realize he wasn’t that poor nobody anymore.
“Saw your essay in the paper, boy.” Mr. Clevinger said as he put the potted daylily on the counter. “Bet your mom’s proud of you.”
“I guess, sir,” Brad mumbled and checked the price tag. “That’ll be $5.00.”
Why hadn’t Mrs. Hartman told them the winners would be published? He would never have written all that-stuff if he had known.
“Five even?” The man pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. “Tell you what, boy. How about if you keep the change? Don’t want you worrying that you won’t be able to buy your momma something special for Mother’s Day.”
Brad looked at the money with anger and disgust, unable to meet the man’s eyes. He knew Mr. Clevinger was only being nice, but his stomach turned at the thought. He didn’t need charity to buy his mom a present. He didn’t need anybody’s help to make a better life for his mom one day.
Brad took the ten dollar bill and made change, pushing the five back at the man. “Thanks anyway,” he said. “But I already got her something.”
“Then get something for yourself,” the man said.
“I don’t need anything.”
Mr. Clevinger looked Brad up and down, then shook his head. “Looks like you could use a new pair of shoes,” he said. “Or stop and get yourself a good meal before you go home so you don’t eat your mom out of house and home.”
“We’ve got plenty of food and my shoes are fine, ” he said but the man had picked up his daylily and headed toward his fancy car. The five-dollar bill was still on the counter.
Brad wanted to throw it away. He wanted to give it to someone else, but mostly he wanted to scream at the idea that his mom couldn’t take care of him or that he couldn’t take care of her. They didn’t need anybody’s charity. They didn’t need anything from anybody.
But in the end, he slipped the bill into his pocket, feeling miserable and worthless. A nobody who wasn’t even allowed pride. But the money would pay for Mom’s gas for a week and he didn’t have the right to throw it away. He learned a lesson, though—leaving a person with no pride was worse than leaving him with no money.
Brad just shrugged and turned his arm so that his Rolex caught the light. “I get by.”
She nodded. “Want any more stew?”
“No, thanks. I’m full.”
He got to his feet and picked up his dishes. Okay, so she didn’t know watches. No big deal. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to gain anyone’s approval. Through the kitchen window over the sink he could hear the rain, slamming sheets of water against the house and rattling the roof. He was glad he wasn’t outside, on the way to some motel.
“The dishes can go in the dishwasher,” she said and pulled down the appliance door for him before she started washing the saucepan in the sink. Once he’d loaded his dishes, she turned. “Come on. You can have Thad’s old room.”
He grabbed his bag and shoes, then followed her up the stairs, all too conscious of the provocative sway of her hips in front of him. On the other hand, a motel would be a thousand times safer.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” he said.
“Giving you a room for the night is easier than driving in that mess outside.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs and opened the door to a bedroom that looked a little spare. Outside of a collection of baseball pennants hanging on the wall, only a few mementos remained of the boy who had grown up here.
“Do you need pajamas?” she asked, starting to open some drawers. “I think there might be some here. If not, I’m sure there are some in Will’s room.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Brad leaned against the door frame. “I never bother with them.”
“Oh.” A soft glow filled her face and, looking away, she shut the drawer sharply. “Well, I guess you have everything then.”
He had, and for a couple of years now. But then all of a sudden, he felt a little voice mocking his certainty. A little voice asking if it wasn’t loneliness that he felt late at night when he was all alone.
A little voice he wanted to drown out. “I’m sorry your poetry reading got canceled,” he said. “I would have liked to have heard some of your work.”
Penny’s cheeks flushed even more as she looked down at her hands. “Thanks. If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll let you get to bed,” she murmured and tr
ied to scuttle by him.
“Pen.” His hand caught hers and she stopped, her eyes flying up to meet his.
Up close, he could see fleeting flashes of the girl she used to be. A shyness in her eyes. A determination in her jaw. But it was all wrapped so beautifully in this womanly package, she almost seemed a stranger.
“I’m glad things are working out so well for you,” he said and leaned over.
He’d only meant to brush her cheek with his lips, but she moved at the last moment and his lips touched hers. And it was like the storm had consumed him. Thunder crashing in his ears. Lightning charging in his belly. And the wind swirling around, keeping him from moving.
His arms ached to pull her close. His hands wanted to touch and caress. His lips just wanted to taste her sweetness forever.
She pulled away. Her eyes were wide, but with what emotion he couldn’t say. But then, he’d never been able to read her at all.
“Good night,” she whispered, then left.
She was down the stairs and out of sight before he had a chance to breathe. He closed the door slowly then sagged against it.
He definitely should have done that probate stuff by mail.
Chapter Three
Penny was furious with herself by the time she reached the kitchen. What in the world was wrong with her? Letting Brad kiss her like that—and practically falling into his arms for more!
“That poor boy.” Gran was standing by the table patting Einstein, their tabby house cat.
“I thought you were in bed,” Penny said.
“No job. No family. No home.”
“Everybody has a home,” Penny murmured. “No matter how small or simple.”
“A place to hang your hat ain’t a home.”
Penny needed to get to sleep. This was a busy time for them, and cleaning up the storm damage would make it even busier.
“First thing we have to do is get that boy a job,” Gran said.
“Business is good most places. So he should easily—” Penny gave her grandmother a hard look. “How do you know he doesn’t have a job?”
Gran looked about the kitchen before reaching down to pat Einstein.
“And that home is where he hangs his hat?”
“I heard you two talking.” Gran continued petting the big orange tabby. “You know how you’re always talking so loud.”
“We weren’t talking loud. Besides, I thought your hearing wasn’t all that good.”
“Must’ve had my hearing aid turned up too high.” Her grandmother straightened up. “Best get me to sleep. Way it’s storming out there, you know we’re gonna have ourselves a whamdoozer of a day tomorrow.”
“You don’t wear a hearing aid. Remember? You said only old people wore them.”
“Gonna be trees and branches blown down all over town.”
Penny’d been down this path before. Gran would stall tonight, but if she went off to bed without answering Penny’s questions, she’d plead a poor memory tomorrow.
“I heard you go down the hall,” Penny said, remembering the thump of her grandmother’s cane on the wooden floor. “And then I heard your bedroom door close.”
“How could you hear all that when you had a guest to entertain?” Gran said, turning away from the table and Einstein. “You’re never going to get yourself a fella if you don’t get more sociable.”
“Are you playing detective again?”
“I’m not playing.” Gran stopped to glare at Penny. “I’m working hard to get my private investigator’s certificate. The Institute of Advanced Careers is a real school even if the courses are all by mail.”
“Did you plant any bugs in the kitchen?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Gran asked. “There are enough bugs around here without me growing any.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Her grandmother shrugged. “I was just doing my lessons.”
“Isn’t that illegal without a court order?”
“Oh, wonderful.” Her grandmother snorted. “I’m trying to establish myself in a new career and you’re going to throw me in jail. And how am I supposed to get my PI license with a record?”
Penny closed her eyes a moment It was getting late and Gran was right—tomorrow would be a busy day. And she did not want to argue. “Get your bugs out of here, Gran. Please.”
Her grandmother glared at her for a moment, before shuffling back to the kitchen table. She bent down and removed a gadget about the size of a half dollar from under the table.
“Is that the only one?” Penny asked.
Gran stomped over to the sink and removed a similar gadget from beneath the cabinet. Then she walked over to the cat picture on the wall by the door and pulled out another one from behind the frame.
“I hope that’s all,” Penny said.
“Of course.” Her grandmother gave her a look of childlike innocence. “There aren’t any more in the kitchen.”
Penny listened to Gran shuffle down the hall toward her room, then walked over to turn off the light. Her hand suddenly froze in midair. Oh, Lord. She didn’t want to think where else her grandmother might have placed her bugs.
Dorothy stared at the Eiffel Tower through the flickering glow of the candles as she sipped her wine. Paris in the summer. Paris in the rain. Paris any way at all was perfect The city of romance where love would sweep her off her feet. Très magnifique.
She leaned back on her futon and sighed. This is how it would be someday. Except that it wouldn’t be a poster of Paris that she was staring at, but the real thing. One day when she had enough money saved to leave Chesterton.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, but it was just as well. Mulling over the state of her savings account wasn’t going to bring her dreams any closer. Selling a few more houses before her visa expired was what she needed. Either that or she was going to have to apply for an extension. Again.
She looked through the peephole. It was Toto. What a nice surprise.
“Bonjour,” she said as she pulled the door open. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Just checking up on you,” he said. “I saw the candles from the street as I was driving by. Hoped that you hadn’t left them burning and gone to bed.”
“Nope.” He was such a worrier, went from teenager to old fuddy-duddy in one day. Sometimes she missed the old Toto, the one with passions and fire. “Want to come in? I just opened a bottle of wine.”
But he shook his head. “No, I’d better not It’s getting late. Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
As if anybody cared, but she knew enough not to argue. That was Toto, a minister’s son worried about what the world might think. “Did the storm do much damage?”
“Enough. How was the poetry reading?”
“Got canceled. The power went out.”
“That’s too bad. Penny must have been disappointed.”
“Oui.”
He glanced around the empty hallway, then shrugged. “I’d better go. It’s time to hit the sack. Gotta be back on the streets by five.”
“Okay. Merci for checking on me.”
“No problem. Just part of the job.” With a curt nod, he turned and left.
“Bonne nuit,” Dorothy called after him, then closed the door.
She and Toto had dated through high school. They’d even been voted the Most Romantic Couple for the Valentine’s Day dance their senior year, but then they both had grown up and apart That happened a lot, she guessed, and they’d been lucky they’d recognized it. Some people just stayed together out of habit or fear of looking for someone new. They’d been smart and had chosen friendship.
Though sometimes, just sometimes, she wished things had been different.
Brad awoke to the sound of trucks just below him. Oh, great. It was morning already, six-thirty to be exact. His muscles ached with stiffness and his body felt as if it had been run over by a bulldozer, but he stretched and sat on the edge of the bed. He must have dozed off somewhere
around five. Not bad, considering he hadn’t thought he was going to sleep at all, not after kissing Penny.
He’d forgotten how early the day started here. And it felt even earlier since his body was still on Pacific time.
Still, there was no sense in going back to bed. A busy day lay ahead of him. Maybe he could hitch a ride into town with one of Penny’s trucks.
After a quick shower, he hurried down to the kitchen. Aunty Em was there—and had a place set at the breakfast table for him. He gave a quick longing glance out the window at Penny and her crews, then sat down at the table. He couldn’t disappoint the old lady. Besides, what could he do in town at this hour anyway?
“Looks like Penny’s busy this morning,” he said.
Aunty Em concentrated filling his coffee cup. “Lots of storm damage. It’ll bring in a nice piece of change but I’d rather see her relax a bit She’s been working hard. Too hard.”
“It must be tough running a business. Are her brothers around to help?”
“No. Thad teaches at Stanford and Will’s a doctor at the Mayo Clinic, but it ain’t just the business. It’s school, too.” She opened the refrigerator. “I got cold pizza, leftover stew or black bean burritos. Or are you one of those health freaks that likes bran flakes for breakfast?”
Cold pizza, leftover stew or black bean burritos? “Well, actually...”
She put a container of yogurt on the table. “Once Penny gets her mind set on something, there ain’t no derailing her.”
He opened the yogurt with some relief and tried to keep track of the conversation. “So, Penny’s taking some business courses?”
Aunty Em sat down across from him, cold pizza on her plate. “She’s studying English literature.” The old woman shook her head, a bemused smile on her face. “Doing real good in it, too. Getting high grades. Talking at meetings and stuff.”
Brad slowly stirred his yogurt. “So, why do I think there’s a problem?”
“Because there is. And it’s called Alex.”
He stopped stirring. From out in the yard came the sound of another truck’s engine. He had the feeling he should run out and catch that ride to town while he still could. Before he put himself in a trap. But he didn’t move.
If I Only Had A...Husband (The Bridal Circle #1) Page 5
