by Ashley Quinn
Natalie shook her head and laughed. “Geez, I really spoil you, don’t I? All you have to do is ask and you know I’ll probably say yes.”
Isabella grinned. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing, Natalie.”
She laughed louder. “You would say that, kid,” she replied. “Fine. You’re too smart for your own good and I could use your help unloading when we get there.”
“Yay!” Isabella shouted as she pumped her first in the air. She ran for the passenger’s side door.
Natalie rolled her eyes good-naturedly and resolutely shut the back door of the truck, ex-girlfriend forgotten except for one small lesson she had taken with her through the years. “Rule number one,” she murmured. “Don’t fall for an out-of-towner.”
With that, she pulled her keys from the pocket of her jeans and hurried into the truck. She had just slid onto the seat when Isabella turned to her. “Natalie, can I ask you something?”
Natalie shot a look across the truck. Uh-oh. Usually when Isabella asks if she can ask something, I know I’m in for it.“I don’t know, can you?” She countered as she put the truck into gear.
Isabella smiled. “What kind of girls do you like?”
Natalie blinked. “It feels a little odd having this conversation with my eight-year old pseudo-niece.”
Isabella rolled her eyes and rested her chin in her hand. “Mommy and Daddy told me you’re gay, like, way long ago.”
“And I appreciate them being so honest from the get-go with you, but it’s still a hard question to answer,” Natalie replied wryly.
Isabella sighed heavily. “It’s not hard,” she pressed. “I mean, do you like girls that are tall? Short? Fat? Skinny? Blonde hair? Brown hair?”
Natalie laughed and shook her head. “To me, you have to be beautiful on the inside first. That makes you beautiful on the outside. I mean...” she paused and tried to put her words into a perspective Isabella would understand. “A cute person isn’t very cute anymore if they’re mean or lie a lot, right?”
The younger girl appeared to think it over and then nodded. “You’re right.”
“So maybe someone who knows what’s really important in life,” Natalie went on as they drove beneath I-20. “And, of course, cute. Whether that’s tall, short, skinny, curvaceous, blonde or brunette.”
“What’s really important?” Isabella echoed in confusion.
Yup Natalie silently decided. They slowed to a stop at an intersection nearing a residential area. This kid is way too smart for her own good. “Love. Family. Happiness. Not necessarily things like money or...”
Isabella shook her head quickly. “No,” she interrupted. “Money is important. Mommy and Daddy sometimes argue about why we don’t have more of it. And then Daddy goes away to work on the rigs. I bet they wouldn’t fight and he wouldn’t have to go away all the time if there was more of it.”
Natalie sighed. How do you explain things like adult life to an eight-year old? A ridiculously perceptive eight-year old, but one nonetheless. “There’s a lot that goes into making a relationship work,” she replied carefully. She knew that Rudy and Paula, high school sweethearts, had their problems but she also knew how dedicated they were to each other. “It’s a challenge sometimes, but if the people involved love each other and are equally committed, it can work.”
“Even for forever?” Isabella asked.
Natalie nodded. Do relationships last these days? “Sometimes even for forever.”
Isabella grinned. “I think there’s someone for everybody,” she whispered.
“How many of those Disney movies have you been watching, nina?” Natalie asked as she raised an eyebrow.
Isabella shrugged. “There’s even someone for a mermaid,” she went on.
“Oh, you’ve been watching The Little Mermaid,” Natalie replied knowingly. She peered out of the windshield and glanced back down at the handwritten directions in her lap. The neighborhood was gated, but she could tell the homes inside were massive by the size of the Spanish-tiled roofs peeking between tall shade trees. “That was one of my favorites when I was a kid too.”
Isabella giggled. “I like it because the prince’s name is Eric,” she paused and sighed dreamily. “There’s a boy named Eric at my school and he was the cutest boy in the whole second grade. Maybe I’ll grow up and marry him.”
Natalie smiled. “Focus on being a kid for now, okay?” She replied gently. “You have your whole life to find your prince. Or princess.”
Isabella laughed. “Prince, Natalie,” she said. “I like my girl friends but I don’t want to marry any of them. They don’t make my tummy feel fuzzy like Eric did when he would run past me at recess. But you’re going to marry a girl and then I can help you both at the bakery!”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” Natalie interjected quickly. “Let’s just get these treats delivered and take this summer one beautiful day at a time.”
Isabella nodded as they inched slowly toward the community’s entrance gate. “Natalie, can I tell you something?”
Natalie felt herself tense slightly. Here we go again. I never know what’s going to come out of this kid’s mouth.
Isabella grinned. “I know that you’re Mommy’s best friend, but you’re my best friend too.”
Natalie reached over and ruffled her hair. “Love you too, Isabella,” she replied and hoped her voice didn’t catch. “When we get to the house, you just stand in the back of the truck and hand me boxes. I’ll run inside and get everything signed off, okay?”
Isabella bunched her fists and flexed her skinny arms in the passenger’s seat. “Yeah, I’m Superwoman!”
Natalie glanced at the girl, her heart swelling with pride. Dorothy had it right she thought. There’s no place like home.
CHAPTER 6
London stood beneath the shower and closed her eyes. She savored the warm spray as it rinsed the feeling of travel from her skin. This bathroom reminds me of one of those fancy spas on the Gold Coast she thought. Marble tile floors, a Jacuzzi soaking tub peering into the property’s expansive backyard, a separate dressing area and a large square stall with an oversized shower head installed right in the center gave the room a relaxed, comforting atmosphere.
The shower itself had a small sitting area in one corner and a tall, heated towel rack opposite the wide glass door. I could stay in here all day she thought, the idea not sounding half-bad. The muscles in her back and shoulders began to loosen as water pattered gently against her.
What a whirlwind these last few days have been she thought as she stepped further under the chrome shower head. When Dad insisted on buying my ticket, I didn't know he was going to purchase it for this very weekend. Good thing Holly had my time off request covered.
The early morning flight had been uneventful, but London was still tired from the travel and cab ride to the address her father had given her. She remembered him mentioning that he would be in Dubai until later in the week, but that Tiffany would be arriving this morning as well. London’s heart sank. Anytime now.
What did Dad say she had been doing? London struggled to remember as she rinsed conditioner from her hair. Oh, yeah. Teaching English to children in Cambodia. That’s no small flight. At least she’ll be tired when she arrives and we won’t have to exchange awkward pleasantries. What could we possibly have to say to each other? Our lives have been spent completely separate. London thought of her father’s voice, bursting with pride, as he spoke of Tiffany’s appetite for adventure and generous heart. He had said that, prior to her six-month assignment in Cambodia, she had spent a few months in Kenya to help install water filtration systems in small villages on the outskirts of Nairobi.
Saint Tiffany London thought with a roll of her eyes. She wrapped a thick Egyptian cotton towel around her body as she carefully stepped from the shower. She’s twenty-two. Young and idealistic. Maybe even how I used to be.
London shook the thought from her head as she opened the bathroom door. She braced herself for the rush of air
conditioning against her warm, flushed skin. She had only taken a few steps into the hallway when she stopped short at the sound of a voice.
“Hello?” The woman's voice called uncertainly. “Um, anyone home?”
Tiffany? London wrinkled her nose and assumed her half-sister was wondering if she had arrived yet.
“Now or never,” she muttered to herself as she strode over cherry hardwood flooring through the sunken living room. London gasped in surprise when she spotted a lone figure in the kitchen. Her arms were filled with pink and white boxes and she whirled around at the sound of footsteps.
Definitely not Tiffany. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” London asked sharply. She wrapped her arms around herself and was acutely aware that she was completely naked beneath her towel.
The woman stood motionless and her mouth dropped open. Her brown eyes were wide and London watched as a slight blush colored her golden-tan skin. “I, uh...”
London continued to watch as her eyes traveled helplessly down her body. She suddenly felt vulnerable.
Too vulnerable she thought. “I asked what you’re doing here,” she barked. Her voice was louder than she’d intended but she took a breath and continued. “How did you get in? I’m calling the police.”
The woman’s eyes snapped up and she quickly set the boxes onto the long granite breakfast bar. “No, no, I apologize,” she spoke quickly. “I’m with Mission Bakery and my name is Natalie Silva. I was directed to use the key under the mat if no one was home. I’m sorry. I knocked a few times. I’m delivering the order for today’s baby shower.”
London’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, right,” she replied suspiciously. I’ve been in Chicago too long to believe her. “What baby shower? What are you talking about?”
Natalie glanced helplessly at an order form. “The order was placed over a week ago and confirmed just a few days before,” she tried to explain. She ran a hand through her hair in confusion. “This is 8667 St. Catherine Way in Fort Worth, correct?”
“Yes, but there’s a misunderstanding,” London declared. She felt her voice rise again. This is not how I wanted to start my time in Texas. “Besides, do you always go waltzing into peoples’ private homes? I can’t believe anyone would tell you to use a key. I was in the shower and you absolutely cannot just intrude...”
Another voice piped up as the front door opened and closed with a resounding bang. “Sweet, Mission Bakery is right on time,” Tiffany paused as she walked down the wide hallway and grinned. She dropped a worn, overstuffed duffel bag onto the marble tile. It echoed with a light thud off the sixteen-foot vaulted ceiling. “I saw the food truck in the driveway and raced in as fast as I could. Sorry for the confusion, chicas. These are mine.”
Natalie glanced at the order form in confusion. “You’re Lorena Martinez?”
Tiffany burst into laughter as the morning sun filtered through the skylight above and bounced off her platinum blonde hair. It was tied back in a loose bun and she wore what looked to London like a patterned, hand-sewn headband to keep the stray pieces from falling into her face. “No,” she shook her head and laughed again. “I’m Tiffany Foster and I ordered the goodies for the baby shower. But my very best friend from high school, who also happens to be very pregnant, is Lorena Martinez. She’ll be thrilled when I surprise the shower this afternoon with sweets from her favorite bakery.”
Natalie swallowed hard and thrust the order form at Tiffany. “Please sign at the bottom,” she said stiffly. London could tell that she was shaken. “The form notes that we were given a credit card to keep on file when the original order was placed, so we’ll charge that for the full amount. Otherwise, you’re all set. Enjoy.”
Tiffany grinned as she quickly signed her name and handed the paper back to Natalie. “Thank you,” she responded as she peeked at the boxes. She threw a sidelong glance at London, who realized that she was still dripping wet in the middle of the living room. “I apologize again for the confusion. I just took an overnight flight home from Cambodia through Seoul and there were a few delays. That’s why I asked that you use the key. I didn’t realize my sister here would be joining us this summer until very recently. I’m sure she’s tired from her travels and didn’t mean to raise her voice.”
Now that London had a chance to survey the situation, she realized that her eyes kept seeking out Natalie’s slender frame. She subtly checked her out as Tiffany spoke. Natalie was wearing faded blue jeans with tears over both knees and a gray v-neck t-shirt. As she turned, a bit of her t-shirt rode up and revealed a hint of smooth, tanned skin along her hip. God, she’s gorgeous London thought and then swallowed hard. Wait, where did that come from?
She realized after a moment that Natalie was refusing to look anywhere near her. Her heart kicked up a notch as it dawned on her a split second later that she desperately wanted Natalie to look at her again. Say something, anything she thought as her mind raced. Rectify the situation. Apologize for acting like a complete snob. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
London watched silently as Natalie gathered her papers and nodded a curt good-bye at Tiffany. The sound of the door closing as she left made her blink. She met Tiffany’s sky-blue eyes and sighed.
“Thanks for, uh, clearing that up,” she stammered. “Anyway, I should get changed.”
There was a short pause as London made her escape, but not before she could hear Tiffany’s hurt tone as she gently shut the guest bedroom door behind her.
“Wow, London, it’s nice to see you too.”
---
Natalie strode angrily to the truck still humming in the driveway. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so irritated and took a deep, calming breath. Maybe it was because she had been caught checking out a breathtakingly attractive stranger in a bath towel. Or maybe it’s because the gorgeous stranger opened her mouth and turned out to be kind of a jerk.
She could tell from the woman’s sure tone, the quick, measured way in which she spoke and the confident way she carried herself that she was not from around here. Besides, I would remember a woman like that Natalie told herself. And not just because of those piercing eyes. Or those soft lips. Or those long, ultra-toned legs on display...
Natalie willed her memory to stop its slow replay of the moment as Isabella glanced at her curiously. She quickly dialed a number on her cell phone and waited impatiently for her aunt to answer.
“Morning, Natalie,” Jane greeted her pleasantly. “How’s it going?”
“Could be better, Tia Jane,” Natalie replied honestly. She quickly backed the truck out of the long driveway. “Did you, by chance, put the wrong name on the order form for today’s delivery?”
She listened as Jane paused and thought it over. “Mmm, no. I don’t believe so. Is there a problem?”
“There was a white girl in the house that chewed me out from here to El Paso. Let me reiterate, a very pissed off white girl,” Natalie strained to keep the annoyance from her voice. “Not a Lorena Martinez.”
“Right, Lorena is the mother-to-be,” Jane spoke in confusion. “The order is for her, but was placed by someone else. Tonya, Tiffany...”
“Tiffany,” Natalie confirmed. “Tiffany Foster. But her name wasn’t anywhere on the order form.”
Jane chuckled. “I’m sorry, Natalie,” she apologized. “I took the call at the end of the day and it had been mighty busy. I must have forgotten to note her information. Honest mistake. Tiffany was upset?”
Natalie sighed. “No, she was fine,” she replied. “But I happened to walk in on her sister. Who happens to be knockout-beautiful and was wearing nothing but a towel. Needless to say, she was less than thrilled and I was humiliated.”
Jane roared with laughter, much to Natalie’s chagrin. “Oh, God,” she gasped between laughs. “I think that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks. Oh, you poor thing.”
Natalie’s face was stone as she pulled into the parking lot of the bakery. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.”
“Oh, honey, I know you’re embarrassed,” Jane continued. “You’ve always been a sweetheart. But everything is fine, right? The customer is happy, there were no serious issues with delivery and we completed one of the largest orders we’ve done all year. Be positive, Natalie. Our bakery has built an excellent reputation for itself over the last few years.”
Natalie hung up the phone and sighed. She stared out the windshield at the entrance to the bakery for a moment before Isabella’s voice roused her. “What do we do now?”
Natalie bit her lip. “Well, the bakery is technically closed on Sundays,” she replied slowly. “But sometimes I like to get a start on the menu items for tomorrow.”
Isabella clapped her hands excitedly. “Cool, do I get to bake with you?”
Natalie glanced at Isabella and then back at the bakery with a smile. “I think today is a day for cake pops, nina.”
CHAPTER 7
London snapped her laptop shut with a sigh. The sun was sinking into the horizon and the guest bedroom was slowly growing darker. She had holed up nearly all day and tried to keep herself busy with editing website content for one of W.H. Young’s newest clients. It had worked most of the afternoon, but for the last hour and a half she had been staring blankly at the glowing screen.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ve already managed to piss off two people she thought. That has to be a new record.
She turned her and Tiffany’s relationship over in her mind. Ten years apart she mused. But in reality, we’ve always been worlds apart. Her father had married his ex-wife, Diane, when London was barely in first grade. She vaguely recalled the elaborate destination wedding in Costa Rica. What she did remember was overhearing a hushed argument between the couple outside of the bridal suite door.
“Oh sweetheart, I really wanted to London to feel a part of this wedding,” Vince spoke dejectedly. “I haven’t been in her life much, but she’s still my daughter. It would be special to have her as our flower girl.”
Diane scoffed and London could hear the familiar jangle of the thin rose-gold bracelets that she always wore. “Really, Vincent,” she replied. “How would that look to all of our friends? To Dallas-Fort Worth society?” She paused. “To your investors? The rest of the Board of Directors at Foster Oil & Gas? To have your illegitimate daughter parading down the aisle, front and center in photos that you know will run in the society pages back home. I don’t want the whispers and I don’t want the gossip. She lives in Chicago, for Christ’s sake. Nobody even knows who she is; she’s an outsider.”
