by Helen Conrad
They worked long hours to do it. Jennifer was in charge on Friday. At opening time she was hurrying from station to station, making sure every section of her store, from the bakery, with its oven right in the middle of the floor so that customers could see their goods being baked, to the wine rack with its special supply of vintage vinegars, was ready for customers. The Magnificent Munch was a success partly because of this attention to detail.
“Tilly,” she said reprovingly to the girl who worked behind the chocolate counter, “look at those mint truffles. They look all gummed together.”
“They probably are all gummed together,” the plump, pink-cheeked blond wailed. “One look from these hungry eyes of mine and they begin to melt like butter. Jennifer, you’ve got to move me out of here! I’m blowing up like a blimp. All I have to do is breathe the chocolate fumes and I gain another pound.”
Jennifer smiled sympathetically. “I know, I’m working on it. But you’re the best chocolatier we’ve got. You know so much about the subject ...”
“Yeah, and how do you think I learned?” She patted her rounded tummy. “I’m a regular example of on-the-job training.” She reached out and took Jennifer’s hand. “Please give me the produce section! Or pate. I hate pate.”
Jennifer gave her a hug and laughed. “I can’t have you work in a section where you hate the product. Our customers expect expertise with their service.”
“I’ll be an expert—I promise! I’ll learn everything there is to know about pate. Just as long as you don’t make me eat it.”
Jennifer assured Tilly that she would find her a place in another section of the store, then she hurried to the counter they called “Custom Food to Go.” Danny Lopez, their regular picnic preparer, was out sick, and she was taking over for the day.
At exactly ten o’clock the doors opened, and the customers began streaming in. Friday was their busy day, as so many people wanted something special for entertaining over the weekend or a picnic basket to take along on a trip. Jennifer took orders by phone and had a delivery boy for most of the baskets she was making up.
She loved setting up picnic baskets—lining the sides with a checkered tablecloth, filling the bottom with cold crab claws in cocktail sauce or artichoke hearts vinaigrette, some sliced smoked salmon or cold lemon chicken, a French pastry or a tin of baklava, some imported cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Then, of course, there was the chilled wine, along with highly polished wineglasses. Plates, knives, forks, and napkins were fitted into the top, and the basket was ready to make some couple happy out in the country, on a bluff overlooking the Pacific, or at the Hollywood Bowl, waiting for the orchestra to tune up.
Meanwhile, she still had to keep things rolling in the rest of the store.
“The distributor is here for that new line of pasta. You want to take a look?” Jimmy Buffer, one of her oldest employees, asked as she fitted a box with raspberry tarts.
“I’ll let you make the decision,” she told him with a smile. “You know more about that than I do.”
“Hey, Jennifer, shall I weed out some of these slower-moving canned goods?” he asked her a bit later. “These escargots are just about es-car-gone.”
“Do,” she agreed. “And make room for a new line of natural fruit juices I want to bring in.”
As noon drew closer, people began coming in off the street for lunchtime food as well, and pretty soon there was a line snaking through the store.
“Help!” she whispered to Fred, the produce man, as he delivered more sliced tomatoes, torn lettuce, and alfalfa sprouts. “How does Danny keep up with this crowd?”
“He gets someone else in here to take the orders, for one thing,” he reminded her.
“You’re hired,” she announced with a grin. Pretty soon she’d drafted Tilly, too, and it was almost one thirty before the line had dwindled to just a few more hungry customers.
“What can we do for you, sir?” she vaguely heard Fred ask the last man in line.
“I’ll have a ham sandwich,” came the answer, and at the sound of Reid’s voice, she straightened, her breath coming just a little faster.
Here he was, and she realized she’d been waiting for him all week. She hadn’t been sure what would happen once he arrived, but she’d known all along she would have to find out.
“Better make that Black Forest ham,” she told Fred without looking around, her pulse flickering in the hollow of her throat, “with plenty of hot mustard.”
She turned and smiled at Fred, still avoiding looking at Reid. “Why don’t you go on back to produce?” she said. “Thanks for all your help. I think I can handle it now.”
Tilly left, too, and Jennifer pulled the ham out of the deli case.
“Rye or sourdough?” she asked as she sliced it, and then she finally looked at him.
He’d left off the sunglasses this time, and she reacted with a gasp as she met the force of his disturbing gaze. Reid’s eyes were blue, a deep, beguiling blue that reminded her of antique glassware. But what always shocked her and made her look again were the silver centers, like stars bursting, that lit his eyes with an unearthly light. Meeting his glance had always made her tingle. Now it sent shock-waves through her.
“Rye,” he answered, and she nodded and finished making his sandwich, trying to ignore the way her fingers were trembling.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked when she’d wrapped it, put it into a little basket, and pushed it across the tall glass counter.
“Not a thing,” she replied breezily. “Consider it a bribe. Just take it and go, and I’ll call us even.”
He looked at the sandwich, then back at her. “I didn’t come here to get food,” he told her quietly. “I came to get you.”
The power of his quiet determination made her quiver inside, but she tried to put a brave face on it.
“You can’t always get what you want,” she said challengingly, sounding more certain than she was. She reached out to push the sandwich toward him again, and suddenly his hand was on her wrist, fingers circling tightly.
“But I get what I need,” he answered evenly. “And right now I need some time with you.”
His resolute gaze held hers, and she couldn’t break the spell his silver-blue eyes cast. “Wha—what do you mean?” she asked shakily.
“I just want to talk to you . . . Give me that much.”
Silver blue, stars, and midnight skies—she’d been waiting for him all week, knowing he was coming, dreading it, and hoping ... for what? She wasn’t sure.
But he fascinated her. He always had. And she would talk to him for a while, if that was what he wanted. There’d been a time when she would have done anything he asked, followed him anywhere, even to the edge of the earth, if only he’d shown her just the tiniest sign of affection. Those days were long ago, but she could still feel the echoes of them rolling around in the far corners of her mind.
“All right,” she said.
He seemed to relax, and though his fingers still held her wrist, they weren’t as tight. “Where can I go to eat this?” he asked, glancing down at the sandwich.
There weren’t any tables in the store. “There’s a park around the corner.”
“Ask your boss for an hour off and go with me,” he ordered.
She smiled, tilting her head, enjoying the surprise he was in for. “I’m the boss,” she said quietly, “and I’m a soft touch.”
His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t comment. He let go of her wrist, and she pulled off the apron she’d worn to prepare the food, asked Fred to cover the counter, and walked out to join Reid, glad she’d worn a pink blouse with her chocolate-brown slacks.
He was dressed in a business suit today. The cloth was beautifully woven, the sort of color that sat halfway between gray and blue, and it fitted him as though custom tailored.
It probably was, she reflected. The Carrington family certainly had the money for it. She remembered the quiet opulence of the Carrington summer home, a mansion set right beside
the Thorntons’ slightly less extravagant home in Destiny Bay. The Thorntons had money, too, but the difference was in age and duration. Jennifer’s father had grown up in relative poverty and had worked hard to develop Thornton Electronics from a small firm into a computer empire with branches all over the world. The Carrington money was older, from generations of bankers and attorneys, with a sprinkling of state senators and even a governor behind them.
Reid’s father had been the legal consultant to Thornton Electronics. The two men had been friends, and they’d worked together for as long as Jennifer could remember. And they’d both had one thing in common: rebellious children.
“Right or left?” Reid asked as they came out of the store.
“This way.” She pointed out the direction, blinking in the bright sunlight, and gave a start when she felt his hand at the small of her back, as though he were guiding her. But before she could react to his touch, a convertible pulled up at the curb, and Eddie leapt over the side of the car.
“Hey, Jenny-baby,” he called, then stopped short as he recognized Reid. “You okay?” he asked, his hazel eyes shifting from her to Reid and back again.
“Fine.” She beamed at him. “We’re just going to lunch. Be back soon.”
Eddie stood watching them leave, and Jennifer felt a warm spot for her friend and his concern for her welfare.
The park was very close and for once, uncrowded. They found a picnic table and sat in the sun, side by side. Reid tossed the sandwich down without opening it, sat with his back to the table, elbows hooked back, long legs out in front of him, and looked at her.
“Is Eddie a special friend of yours?” he demanded.
Her eyes widened. That was hardly what she’d expected. Eddie wasn’t her lover, if that was what he was driving at. But she didn’t know why that was any of his business.
“Eddie is my mentor,” she said lightly. “He knows all about scuba diving and white water rafting and all those fun things.” She grinned. “He’s a good friend and the best man with an ice axe you’ve ever seen.”
Reid searched her eyes, then nodded solemnly. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I find myself confronted by a glacier.” And his tone was light, to match hers, and not sarcastic at all.
“You do that.” This was so much better than it had been the other day. It seemed almost as it had been years ago, when he’d suffered her presence reluctantly, but they’d been friends. Sort of.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“I had some business at the Los Angeles Court House yesterday and today, so I looked up your address. Then your building manager told me you worked at The Magnificent Munch.”
“Superior detective work.” She complimented him. “I’ll hire you next time I lose somebody.”
She smiled at him, and his face softened, eyes hooded but not unfriendly. “I’ll be waiting for your call,” he teased back.
“In the meantime you’d better eat.” She pulled apart the paper and presented half a sandwich to him. “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”
He hesitated, then took the food from her and looked up, and suddenly they were sharing a smile.
“Oh, Reid,” she cried impulsively, laughing, “do you remember—“
“The time you crewed for me in the Bay Club races and we lost the sandwiches overboard?” He grinned back.
“Yes.” She was delighted he shared the same memory. He’d been forced to ask her to do the job when his regular helper came down with the mumps. He’d been about nineteen. She’d been fourteen. They’d had a wonderful day. “And you kept making me eat dill pickles to ‘keep my strength up.’ “
He shrugged nonchalantly. “It worked, didn’t it?”
She chuckled. “We made it back to the marina, if that’s what you mean. We certainly didn’t win, but I had a stomachache for the next two days.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Just be thankful you’re here to tell the tale,” he teased.
She laughed softly. “Even if I still can’t look a dill pickle in the face.”
“The hazards of competition.” He took a bite of the sandwich she’d made for him. “Good,” he said with his mouth full. “In fact, very good.”
“I know,” she answered pertly. “I made it.”
He held it out to her, and she leaned forward and took a bite, watching his eyes as she did so.
“What did you mean when you said you were the boss at that gourmet store?” he asked.
She swallowed and nodded. “I’m part owner. Eddie and another friend and I started it three years ago.”
He was impressed. She could see it in his eyes. “Then you don’t only play with Eddie . . . you work a little, too,” he said, but suddenly he was frowning. “I guess I was wrong the other day, Jennifer. You have changed.”
She didn’t know whether to be glad he realized that or to take offense at his thinking she’d been such a flake before. She’d never really been as careless and carefree as people had thought. It had taken a long time for her to realize that for herself. How could she expect him to know something she’d only known for the last two years?
She hesitated. She wanted to ask him questions but she didn’t want to open up certain lines of conversation that might lead to topics she didn’t dare touch. A part of her wanted to ask if he’d seen her parents lately. Were they doing well? But she knew what his answer would be to that one.
“They’re miserable, Jenny. They want you back.”
The only problem was, they didn’t. If he only knew.
She could ask him about his family instead.
“What’s going on with Matt and Grant these days?” she asked, naming his two brothers. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen either one of them.”
He grunted, obviously not going there. “Me too,” he muttered. “I haven’t seen either one of them either.”
She stared at him, wondering why. They’d never been close like some brothers were, but surely they’d kept in touch. And his parents? She’d heard something about law suits and prosecutions, though she didn’t know details. Maybe it would be best to stay away from that whole area.
She looked out across the park. There was a children’s playground in one corner, and the shouts of laughter served as a constant background to their talk. She thought of her own childhood—how she’d never been allowed to go to a public playground. Only the play equipment at the country club had been good enough for her. No one seemed to notice that those particular slides and swings were more for decoration than for fun. She’d never met a child in her life who enjoyed playing on them.
She watched children running and screaming with excitement, and she felt the electricity of Reid beside her. Seven years, she thought hazily, floating on a high he created just by being there. Seven years and he still makes me feel like this!
Her glance fell on a young couple lying on a blanket, almost hidden by the bushes. They were locked in an embrace almost too torrid for public display, writhing and moving together like two parts of a whole. She stared at them for a moment, then tore her gaze away, turning back to look at Reid. But when she met his eyes, she knew he’d been watching them, too.
His eyes were flat, silver panes of glass, but there was something shimmering behind the surface, something she wanted to reach for, catch hold of, and bring out into the light. She thought for a second it was almost there, but then he looked away and it was gone again.
She wanted him to touch her, to hold her. Funny, seven years made no difference. She’d dated and liked other men and had even had a serious relationship, but she’d never wanted any man to kiss her the way she’d always wanted Reid to.
That had led to some embarrassing moments when they were younger. Her eagerness had been matched only by her inexperience, and that was not the way to catch “the older man,” as Reid had been to her then.
For just a moment the memory of one instance flashed into her mind. It had been the first hot June day of her sixteenth summer. She�
�d spotted Reid lying on his stomach on a sandy stretch of beach, and she’d snatched up a blue towel and raced down to join him.
“Hi,” she’d said sunnily. “Mind if I sunbathe next to you?”
He’d barely looked up from the textbook he was reading. “It’s a free country,” he mumbled.
He’d seemed so old—twenty-one and looking forward to law school, and here she hadn’t even graduated from high school yet. But as she stood looking down at the way the muscles moved in his already tanned back when he turned a page, she felt her heartbeat quicken in a way it never did around high school boys.
She’d arranged her towel very close to his and had lain down, first on her stomach, then on her back, always making sure her tiny white bikini was displaying her to advantage. And he’d never looked once.
But she’d watched him, watched the golden hair of his muscular legs, the way his body tightened, then relaxed, when a breeze blew across them, watched the way his hair curled around his ears.
This is the man I want, she’d thought, though it was something she’d known for years. What can I do to make him say something to me besides “Jennifer, why don’t you grow up?”
She’d propped herself up on one elbow, staring out at the waves that crashed with cheerful monotony on the sandy shore. The beach was almost deserted. It was too early in the year for tourists. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and if she didn’t hurry and do something, Reid would pack up his books and leave, and she probably wouldn’t see him alone again the whole summer.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned over close to him. “Don’t you wonder what would happen if you just took a sailboat and sailed off into the horizon?” she asked, hoping he didn’t notice how shaky her voice was.
“What?” He looked up as if he didn’t remember who she was.
