Mae Joy finished her phone call and jerked Hazel out of her introspection.
It was pointless anyway; as Caitlin had said, they had to talk. He was the one who initiated contact; he was the one who was willing for her to see Sebastian.
"Sorry about that. That was my mother. I am fighting a small battle with her. My grandmother is an herbalist--not a registered one, I might add--and she is giving my mother medication that is having some adverse reactions with her doctor’s medication. My mom has diabetes."
Hazel smiled. "So your mom is caught between her mother and her daughter."
"No, Grandma Judd is not her mother. She was my father's mother."
"Oh." Hazel frowned. Where had she heard the name Judd before?
Caitlin!
Caitlin had said that Helen's caretaker was an herbalist named Miss Judd.
Hazel stopped listening in casual politeness and sat up straighter on her chair. Miss Judd had supposedly buried Helen's dead baby. The baby they were assuming was her.
"Your grandmother--does she live in Papine?"
"That's the one," Mae said brightly. "I see her fame has spread everywhere. My grandma is a bit unconventional, but most of the time her medications seem to work. She has quite a following."
Hazel smiled slightly. She was too busy making connections in her head. If Caitlin was right, she and Mae Joy would have shared the same father. This could be her honest-to-goodness sister! As in blood sister!
Hazel studied Mae Joy closely. They looked nothing alike.
Mae had a straight as an arrow nose with a little flare at the end and a full bottom lip and high cheekbones. Maybe they had the same shaped eyes?
No. They didn't. And there she was again trying to find similarities with her and someone else, still desperately trying to find her family. Suddenly she couldn't wait for the DNA test.
"Tell me about your father," Hazel said, trying to sound casual.
"My father?" Mae squinted. "John Green? He died when I was eight. I don't remember him much, except for our regular Sunday afternoon ice cream dates. We would always sit and wait anxiously for my dad to come by to take us for ice cream. It was the highlight of our week."
"So you didn't live with him?" Hazel asked, reluctant to let Mae Joy off the John Green topic.
Mae settled down in her chair as if it was natural to be talking about her family to Hazel, a relative stranger.
"Well," she tapped her lips contemplatively, "my parents had a weird relationship. They were always on and off. Mostly off. They cussed a lot and then made up just as much.
"Toward the end of my dad's life they were off. He was living at a fancy place in Irish Town as a gardener. That's where he died, chopping down a tree. It fell on him."
Hazel nodded. Bingo! It was him! No doubt. That was the same story Caitlin had told her. She had said that Helen drew pictures of the event.
"Sorry to hear about that," Hazel said. Her pulse quickened. She couldn't wait for the test results.
"No prob'," Mae Joy said. "It was so long ago. I haven't thought about it in years but it was nice to reminisce. My stepfather is more than enough father to me. So about your house—I can't wait to get my hand on it, feminize it a little, put some warm colors in there, take out all of that dark wood paneling."
"Yes, er, sure." Hazel had been searching for a way to find out more about Mae Joy's siblings.
She hadn't wanted Mae Joy to get back to business so quickly but she realized that it would have been too weird for her to ask anymore about her family without making her suspicious.
Hazel described what she wanted Mae Joy to do, and she was more than willing to start working immediately.
Chapter Seven
Tuesday. DNA test results day.
Hazel was feeling particularly jumpy, especially because Nick had not called her first thing as she thought he would, nor had Curtis called her.
She had gone through another consulting session with Mae Joy, who had shown up at her doorstep at what seemed like the crack of dawn.
She had also quite forgotten that she had okayed an interview for a new housekeeper. She had shown up pretty soon after Mae Joy. Hazel hardly had time to have a quick shower to wake her up before she was knee deep in consulting about colors. Afterwards she conducted an interview with Bernice.
Bernice was a pleasant middle-aged lady who reminded her a bit of Matron Nash. Hazel immediately liked her and Bernice seemed quite taken with her too, especially when she found out that she was not going to be required to cook. The kitchen, Hazel made it clear, was her domain.
Hazel was now sitting in the empty kitchen after giving Bernice a tour of the place. She was going to need Bernice after Mae Joy was done. Right now, Mae Joy was happily planning to remodel the room she had thought would be a nice one for Sebastian to stay in.
"Does he like airplanes or cars or is he a science type?" Mae Joy asked from the kitchen doorway, her iPad in hand.
Hazel froze. She didn't know. She knew next to nothing about her own son. She didn't want Mae Joy to know that though.
"He's five," Hazel said, "will be six next year in March. Boys his age like everything. Just make it generic."
Mae Joy didn't bat an eyelash at her response. "Any particular color you have in mind?"
Hazel was itching to pick up her cell phone and call Curtis. It was a good excuse to do so.
"One sec, Mae Joy." She dialed his number and then hung it up instantly. What was she doing? Obviously Curtis did not want to hear from her or else he would have called. She didn't want to seem desperate.
"Just do green," she said, turning to Mae Joy. "Mint green or something."
She liked mint green. Somehow her favorite color, lavender, didn't seem boyish.
Mae Joy nodded. "Okay, good selection. I'll make it gorgeous. Mint green can be toned down, brought out…workable on that sized room. See you in a few."
"‘Kay." Hazel looked at Mae Joy's retreating back and wondered what she was going to do for the rest of the day.
She had so many loose ends going on around her, she couldn't just sit still. She needed to do something.
She ended up going to Baron's room, helping Bernice to pack up his things and sort out the stuff that she was going to give to various charities. She was knee-deep in boxes by five o'clock. Bernice had already taken off and Mae Joy had left with her crew. They had already covered the furniture in the living room and had painted the board wainscoting in white. The place looked lighter and airier already.
She had a shower and was in the process of cooking a baked salmon with ginger glaze when her doorbell rang. Not the ring from security but the actual doorbell.
In the exclusive town house community she had never been contacted directly by a neighbor. She approached the door apprehensively and looked through the peephole and saw that it was Curtis. He had his hand in his pocket and he was rocking back on his heels as if he was uncertain about something.
She opened her door hurriedly.
"Hey." Her voice had a breathless tinge to it.
"Hey." He raised an eyebrow at her and she looked down at herself. She had pulled on a maxi dress with lavender swirls. "Going out?"
"No." Hazel shook her head. "House wear."
"For the lady of the manor." He smiled slightly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure." Hazel stepped out of the doorway. "How did you reach the complex without me being alerted?"
"My grand-aunt and uncle live a couple houses down the way. I went to drop off something," Curtis said. He looked around. "Redecorating?"
"Yes," Hazel said nervously. "I thought I would make the place more kid-friendly for when Sebastian comes over."
Curtis swiveled around to look at her. "Yes, right."
"That's still on, right?"
"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" He looked at her as if she was one sense short.
Hazel motioned with her head. "Want to join me for dinner? I was making salmon."
"Thanks." He follo
wed her into the kitchen. "It smells good in here."
Hazel nodded. "Thanks. I like to cook; it’s like therapy for me."
"That's how my grandparents started out," Curtis said, sitting on a stool.
Hazel looked up. "Really?"
"Yes, that's how Rizzle was born…in my grandmother’s kitchen. She loved to cook. It was therapy for her too." Curtis chuckled "My grandmother still loves to tell the story at Christmastime. The name Rizzle came from my Grandma Izzy's nickname."
"I really don't know anything much about you or your family." Hazel turned toward the stove and stirred the ginger glaze. "Or even Sebastian. Today my decorator asked me what was his favorite color and I couldn't say because I have no idea."
"His favorite color this week is red, or was it peach? He doesn't have a favorite color. I don't either.” Curtis looked as if he was considering telling her something and then he decided against it.
"See, I am the one who is always doing all the talking," Hazel accused, "while you remain mysterious."
"What do you want to know?" Curtis asked. He had that shuttered expression back on his face again. That did not bode well for Hazel.
She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I should get a private investigator and investigate you as thoroughly as you did me."
Curtis leaned forward on the counter. "Why didn't you?"
Hazel took the salmon out of the oven and poured the glaze over it before answering.
"Well, I did look into your parents. That's when I found out that you were the one caring for Sebastian. I never got the chance to check you out before you approached me."
Curtis seemed to digest what she was saying and then he shrugged. "There is nothing much about me to know."
"Of course there is!" Hazel insisted. "Everybody has something interesting in their past, and I am sure that you are a little more complex than most. At twenty-eight you are raising a stranger's child as if he were yours. I want to know what makes you tick. What would make a guy do that?"
Curtis chuckled. "Okay, but I am not more complex than most."
"So start talking," Hazel said mock severely. She set the table and watched as he got up and stretched. He was dressed in a dark green t-shirt and blue jeans. He caught her looking and grinned.
"Okay, I will start. I was born at home in the middle of the day to Keith and Wendy Decker, the third of three boys. I was the make-up baby. They were on the verge of divorce; my mom had kicked my dad from the house because of infidelity. It was his secretary at that time. Through the years since my birth he stayed clear of secretaries."
Hazel gasped.
"Yes," Curtis said. "Unfortunately, the Deckers don't have a fairytale relationship. My dad's wandering eye wasn't helped by some of his businesses. Anyway, Dad settled down somewhat when Mom had cancer a couple of years ago. I guess something clicked for him and he decided that it was time to exercise some fidelity. Before that he was pretty wild. His girlfriends got younger and younger, closer to my age, and my mom turned a blind eye and allowed him to do whatever he wanted."
"Wow." Hazel served the meal and sat across from him.
"I had a normal enough upbringing apart from the occasional little absences when Dad moved out. My granduncle was an architect and my brother and I spent a lot of time with him. It was fun. My parents insisted that we spend every single summer working at the restaurant—that was also fun. So I pretty much grew up with the love for both architecture and food. Oh, and sailing. We used to go sailing a lot. Dad has a boat."
He looked at her expectantly and she raised her eyebrows. "What?"
"Nothing. Just..." He tasted the salmon. "This is good."
"Thanks." Hazel looked down at her food. She hadn't touched hers yet. The Deckers weren't perfect; they had issues. Huge relationship issues it would seem.
She had imagined that they were some kind of invincible family that was too perfect for words and here she was finding out that Keith Decker was a philanderer—a cheater.
Wendy Decker must be some sort of doormat to allow that to happen, or maybe they had an open marriage.
After Curtis ate he looked at her appreciatively. "You could open your own restaurant!"
"You sound surprised, and on just one meal?" Hazel grinned. "Maybe you should have more."
"I'd like that." Curtis looked at her, his eyes fastened to her lips.
That wasn't meant to be an invitation but he had taken it as such. Hazel cleared her throat uncomfortably. "We were talking about you…"
"Yes, where was I?" Curtis looked at her, his eyes half-masked.
Hazel swallowed. He shouldn't do that. He already had the bedroom eyes thing going on if he even squinted a bit; to her, it would look like a turn on.
"Summers. Architect. Restaurant. Sailing," she said, pulling her mind back from his eyes and all the things she was imagining. When had she turned into this wanton female? She had practically been asexual since her summer of secrets. Curtis was proving that she wasn't and he hadn't done a thing but look at her lazily. For the love of God, woman, get a life, she castigated herself mentally and shifted in her chair.
Oblivious to her current state, Curtis continued. "Oh yes, I went to college in Canada. Did architecture and design. I decided to do a master’s degree after working at a firm as an intern and realizing that the guys with the master’s degrees got the big projects. So I went back to school and in the process of getting my masters met Kenya."
Hazel schooled her features not to react but she felt a pinprick of jealousy.
"She was a great girl. We got engaged and then we came to Jamaica for her to meet my family, and she fell for my dad."
He stopped speaking.
Hazel frowned. "What?"
"It wasn't funny at the time but looking back now, it was. My dad has that magnetic effect on young women. He is a distinguished-looking, wealthy gentleman and I guess in her eyes I was just a kid who had just left university. Apparently, I didn't have his pizzazz."
"I am so sorry," Hazel said, literally in awe. What sort of a ninny would choose Curtis' father over him?
"I don't know your dad but I can't imagine..." She shook her head in amazement and then looked down at her hand. Curtis had gripped her fingers. She looked down at their joined hands and then up at him again.
He loosened her hand, an uncomfortable smile on his lips.
"I still love my dad. I wouldn't call us close because of what he has done to my mom through the years, but I would pause before introducing him to anyone I am interested in."
Hazel covered her face and then laughed. "This is funny. You are so handsome and hunky I can’t imagine that a woman would choose anybody else over you."
"Say that again." Curtis looked at her intently.
The smile fled from Hazel's face. The air was intense with something that she didn't understand and it was making her uncomfortable. "Well, I, er..." She got up hurriedly and started clearing the table.
Curtis got up too and helped her. When they were at the sink, he looked at her and smiled slowly. "If you keep giving me compliments like that, it might go to my head."
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that...it was just an honest observation." Hazel turned toward him and her lips trembled. The air between them suddenly felt volatile as if a match would cause a conflagration.
Curtis leaned toward her and tugged one of her curls, "You have the most gorgeous eyes," Curtis breathed in a distracted undertone, drawing even closer to her.
Hazel didn't know about that. They were just plain brown eyes, but his were pretty spectacular and she was lost in them. It was as if he wanted to draw her in with his gaze, as if his eyes were speaking. Close-up she could see that his eyelashes were even longer than hers.
She curved instinctively closer and he lowered his hand, his thumb rubbing caressingly against her earlobe.
Her heartbeat went crazy in the thrumming silence.
"Curtis..." she mumbled.
"We are going to do this right," he murmured.
"We have a child to think about."
Warm fingers cupped her cheekbone as he bent his dark head. He captured her moist lips in a devouring kiss. From that first contact, Hazel was electrified. Her hands came up to clutch at his thick curly hair and she got lost in the kiss.
He crushed her to him and she surrendered with enthusiasm.
And then her security phone started ringing.
Chapter Eight
"I thought I would drop this off personally," Nick said, waving a sealed envelope at her. "I knew the suspense would be killing you so I didn't want you to wait another day for it."
He looked past Hazel and saw Curtis and paused. "Seems as if this is a bad time."
"No. No." Hazel opened the door wider. "Come on in."
Her body was still twanging from the kiss but she would have to deal with that later. Nick's dropping by was a welcome distraction.
Nick walked inside and greeted Curtis. "Hey Curtis."
"Hey Nick." Curtis inclined his head slightly. "Haven't seen you since high school days when our school used to whip yours in football."
"Ha." Nick laughed. "We used to whip yours at school challenge quiz."
"Touché." Curtis grunted and then he shook his head. "Seeing you now, I can really see the resemblance to Sebastian. It's uncanny."
Nick nodded. "There was a time when this resemblance almost got me in trouble. I am dating Hazel's sister, Brigid, who thought I was some secret father to Hazel's child."
Curtis chuckled. "Genetics are a hell of a thing."
Nick gave Hazel the letter. Her hands were trembling. "What does it say?"
Nick shrugged. "I don't know. I hounded the technicians to do it for me today. They handed me the results in a sealed envelope. I am just as curious as you are."
Hazel took a deep breath and then opened the envelope. Her eyes ran down the detailed paper to where the results were. She was a match to Helen Benedict, a 99.9% match.
She sank down to one of the covered settees in the living room and the paper fluttered beside her.
Curtis and Nick were both looking at her with concern in their eyes. They both drew closer to her. Curtis sat on one side of her, his leg pressing on her own, and Nick walked closer to where she sat.
Just Like Yesterday Page 6
