She thought of the hunky man up on Cass’s roof. Where did he fit into the picture?
He didn’t, of course. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by a man with big muscles and a big smile.
Chapter Thirteen
It looked as if a truce had been called in the Stahl renovation war. Brad was still a little sulky, but that hadn’t kept him from accepting the offer of Saturday-night sex. Of course, it helped that they’d had a nice day. Petey’d had an afternoon ball game and afterward all the parents had taken their hyped-up little ballplayers to Italian Alps, the number one pizza destination in Icicle Falls. The team hadn’t won, but the boys had been distracted from their loss by the promise of food.
It was easy to distract boys of all ages, Stef thought as the family made their way to church the next morning. Cinnamon rolls from a package (okay, baking wasn’t her thing), eggs and a cup of strong coffee started the day off right, and that—coupled with the knowledge that her house was getting pulled together—put Stef in a good mood.
But after church someone asked her how things were coming with the house and she made a tactical misstep.
“Great,” she said. “The wall’s knocked out and the old floor’s all ripped up. My new flooring gets laid this week. Something’s finally getting done.”
“Something’s finally getting done?” Brad challenged as they returned to the car. “Something was already getting done before Masters came along.”
“Well, now it’s getting done right.” She realized she’d stepped on a land mine practically the second the words were out of her mouth. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.”
They got in the car and Brad slammed the door. He started the engine and threw the car into gear. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“Do you have any idea how I’ve felt with you tearing everything apart and leaving it like that?”
“I was going to get it done.” Brad’s jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder he managed to get the words out.
This would be the time to say something consoling, defuse the situation. But why should she be the one to do it? He’d created the problem. “Then why didn’t you?” she demanded.
“I was doing research.”
“Research in how to procrastinate,” she muttered.
“Daddy, are you mad at Mommy?” Petey asked in a small voice.
This was not exactly setting a good example for their son. And it was hardly following the advice the minister had shared in his sermon. Remember, a soft answer turns away wrath. God commands us to be kind to one another. Now, you may not always feel kindly toward each other, but you still need to act kindly.
“Daddy’s fine,” she lied. “And Mommy’s sorry.” Well, not really, but she hoped this counted as acting kindly.
Now Brad was the one muttering. “Mommy should be.”
Wait a minute. How did she become the villain in this story? “So should Daddy,” she said, turning her voice to syrup and giving him a sour smile. Maybe they should’ve stayed home from church. The sermon had been wasted on them.
Once inside the house, she sent Petey off to wash his hands for lunch and started for the kitchen, Brad following behind. As they walked through the great room in progress, he observed that her handyman hadn’t been around for the last couple of days. Underlying message—See? He’s not doing any better than I was.
Right. The wall was down and that all-important beam was up to keep the house from caving in, and the old flooring was completely gone. Soon the new one would be in.
“He’s been at Cass’s, doing her roof,” said Stef. “Anyway, the great room is still getting done faster than it would be if we were doing it ourselves.” We, as in they were both in this together, nothing accusatory. Just a statement of fact.
“I could’ve finished it and we’d actually have had an income tax return to spend on a vacation this year.”
“I’d rather have my house back.” Stef pulled out her panini maker. “Anyway, we can have a staycation this year. There’s plenty to do in Icicle Falls.”
Petey was back now, so they dropped the subject and her two men got busy setting the table while she made lunch. The meal wasn’t exactly filled with warmth and conversation, unless it was Brad talking with Petey. After lunch cleanup, he took their son outside to play catch. Then he washed the car with his little shadow helping him. Then he went down to his man cave to watch a ball game and stuff himself and his son with chips and peanuts and pop. Definitely a male-bonding Sunday, which would’ve been fine except for the fact that Daddy hadn’t said one word to Mommy all afternoon. Mid-May temperatures might’ve been warming in Icicle Falls, but here in the Stahl house, the atmosphere was definitely experiencing a cooling trend.
She fed the boys pizza and a tossed salad for dinner, then left for the chick-flick gathering at Cass’s. “’Bye, Mommy!” Petey sang happily as Brad put in a Pixar movie for him.
Brad said nothing.
She fumed her way down the street to Cass’s house. Brad was being a jerk; that was all there was to it. He should’ve been relieved that she’d let him off the hook for finishing up this latest renovation disaster. It would get done, and he’d have more time to enjoy life. Men were always joking about how illogical women were. Well, they weren’t the only ones. Here was a fine example of a complete lack of logic.
She arrived at Cass’s to find the rest of the guests already there. Samantha Preston and her sisters, Cecily and Bailey, were all present, and Bailey had brought along the usual batch of lavender cookies, her specialty. The Sterling family supplied chocolate for every party and event, but not on movie nights. On these nights, the fare was typical movie treats—Junior Mints, Milk Duds and Good & Plenty—and Cass had already set them out on the coffee table in festive Fiestaware bowls, together with her ever-popular Parmesan popcorn. Charley Masters was there, along with her new server Melody, and both were curled up in easy chairs and had already had their bowls filled.
“Good, the root beer has arrived,” Cass said, taking the bottle Stef handed over. “Now we can make our floats.”
“Yay! I love floats,” Melody enthused.
“Add some chocolate syrup to mine,” Charley requested.
“Gross,” said Bailey. “That’s so wrong.”
“Hey, I’m pregnant. My taste buds are expanding,” Charley retorted. Then added, “Right along with my waist.”
“Enjoy it,” Samantha told her. “It’s the one time you can eat like a pig with no guilt.”
“I do that anyway,” Bailey gloated and grabbed one of her cookies.
“So, how’s the reno going?” Charley asked Stef.
“We’re really making progress now,” Stef said. She was about to add that Brad wasn’t appreciating it, but Charley made a comment about how good her father-in-law was, which put the conversation on a new track, with a discussion about how well his business was doing and how popular he was.
“There’s a real need for someone like that,” Cecily observed.
“I bet home repairs aren’t the first need the women who call him are thinking about,” Samantha said.
“Probably not,” Cecily agreed. “He isn’t with anybody, is he?” she asked Charley.
Cass was back now, bearing a tray of glasses filled with ice cream and foamy root beer. One was drizzled with chocolate.
“Oh, that does look good,” Bailey said, eyeing it.
“Mine,” Charley joked as she took her glass.
“I’ll get the syrup,” Cass said.
“So, does he have someone?” Cecily asked, returning them to the subject at hand.
“No. He’s been widowed for three years now, and Dan’s been after him to start dating.”
Cass was back in the room, and Cecily looked at her spec
ulatively. And what was this? Cass was blushing. Was there some interest on her part?
“Do you picture him with anyone here in town?” Charley asked her.
Cecily had a reputation as a matchmaker. She’d done it for a living before she moved back to Icicle Falls. Everyone followed her gaze to Cass, whose cheeks were even redder now.
“Don’t look at me. I’ve got a cat,” she said and picked up her new pet. “We don’t need a man, do we, Lady Gray?”
“Grant’s a great guy,” Charley persisted.
“It’s a shame he’s so ugly, though,” Samantha said, straight-faced, and the others giggled.
Cass shrugged. “I think he’s interested in your mom.”
“Mom? She’s still got a shrine to Waldo in her bedroom,” Samantha scoffed.
“Anyway, I don’t see them together,” Cecily said.
“You may not, but I did,” Cass muttered.
“Where?” Samantha wanted to know.
“They had dinner at the restaurant on Friday,” Charley said.
“I’d be surprised if anything comes of it,” said Cecily.
“How about we watch the movie,” Cass suggested. “I found a real classic, in honor of Stef,” she added with a grin.
The Money Pit with Tom Hanks and Shelley Long was an old romantic comedy chronicling the adventures of a couple fixing up a home in desperate need of some TLC. Stef would’ve laughed a lot more if she hadn’t been so upset with her husband.
“So, could you identify?” Cass asked her as the credits rolled.
“Oh, yeah,” she said and left it at that.
Petey was in bed when she got home and Brad was in his man cave, where all was in order. No renovations needed down there in Man Land. She didn’t see him again that night.
* * *
Matt showed up at Griffin’s house on Monday morning, wearing torn jeans and a faded brown T-shirt. His grubby painting clothes somehow made her think of Steve and the slobby outfits he’d favored. Except Steve hadn’t looked this good. Yes, he’d been thin when they first met, but he’d never been sculpted with pecs and biceps that promised he’d be able to carry her to bed. She never would have asked him. That would’ve ended with him dropping her or spraining something. Matt Masters looked like he could pick her up with one arm and not even break a sweat.
“Hey there,” he greeted her. “How’s it going?”
Great now.
“Dad says he left the stuff for masking off the windows on the back porch.”
“He did,” she said and led him through the house.
“Nice place,” he said. He took in the broken step. “That could use some help.”
“I think your dad was going to get to it.”
“I can take care of it for you.”
He could probably take care of a lot of things for her, things that had nothing to do with the house. She flashed on an image of him scooping her up in his arms and carrying her upstairs. Just like Rhett did with Scarlett.
She banished the image from her head by reminding herself that he was only there to paint. Maybe it was a good thing Beth had asked her to take more pictures that morning. The less she was around this man, the better.
He motioned to her hand. “What’d you do?”
“I broke my wrist.”
“Doing what?”
She grimaced. “I fell off the ladder when I was trying to paint my living room. I know—it was stupid,” she hurried on.
“Not as stupid as falling off a skateboard,” he said. “Did that when I was sixteen. My brother was towing me behind his car.”
She could feel her eyes getting big.
“It was on a back road and he wasn’t going that fast. Dad grounded us anyway.” Matt smiled at the memory. “Threatened to keep us grounded until our frontal lobes grew together. You do dumb shit when you’re young.”
Like getting engaged to the wrong man.
“So, how long do you have to wear the cast?”
“Until next month. I can hardly wait to get it off. It’s so clunky.” But at least she could still take pictures. And Beth continued to be pleased with her work.
Beth! She needed to get going. “I have to leave.”
“Work?” he guessed.
She nodded. “I’m a photographer.”
“Yeah? What kind?”
He seemed genuinely interested. Unlike Steve, who’d never quite understood her fascination, especially if she cooked something that turned out well and wanted to get a shot. “Quit screwing around and let’s eat,” he’d say. Her best shots were always taken at someone else’s house.
“I’m a food photographer,” she said.
“Seriously?”
Was he about to mock her? “Seriously.”
“Sweet.”
That comment made her smile. “One of the women here in town has done a cookbook, and she wants pictures of some of her dishes.”
“Yeah?” Now he really seemed interested. “What’s on the menu today?”
“Something called apple stir-fry.”
“Sounds interesting. I want to hear all about it when you get back.”
And she didn’t think he was saying that just to be polite. She promised full details, then loaded her camera and lenses and her valise of food-styling tools and left for Beth’s house.
“I thought I should wait until you got here to make it,” Beth said as she let Griffin in. “I picked up the canned frosting like you asked. And I have a ton of powdered sugar.”
Those would be combined to simulate ice cream—no worries about it melting like the real stuff would.
Griffin got busy putting together the faux ice cream, while Beth worked on the dessert. Apple stir-fry consisted of apples sautéed in butter and cinnamon, along with chopped walnuts and raisins.
“It’s like apple pie, only faster since you don’t have to deal with the crust,” Beth said as she poured in a little water. Next came some cornstarch for thickening. “There we go. We’re ready.”
“Almost,” Griffin said and added some food coloring to the mixture.
For this shot Griffin selected a thick soda fountain–style sundae dish from Beth’s seemingly endless supply of dishes. She artfully scattered apples (sprayed with oil for extra shine) around it.
“It looks great,” Beth said approvingly.
It did, and Griffin got some good shots. There was still something missing, though. “We need a person in this shot.”
“Don’t point that camera at me,” Beth said, horrified.
“At some stage we’ll want to take a picture of you. For your author photo.”
Beth frowned. “I never thought of that.”
“Most celebrity cookbooks have a picture of the chef on the cover,” Griffin pointed out.
“I’m no celebrity.”
“You will be around here,” Griffin said, making Beth roll her eyes.
“Well, we can deal with that later. Meanwhile, I guess my apple stir-fry will have to be the lone star of the shot. Too bad your friend Stef’s little boy is in school. He’d be ideal.”
Griffin thought for a moment. There was no little boy handy, but she knew a big one who’d probably be willing to help them out. “I think I have someone who’d be almost as good.” She’d bet her camera that he was photogenic. Hopefully, he wouldn’t upstage the dessert. “I’ll be right back,” she said and hurried home.
Matt was busy covering her windows with heavy plastic sheets when she arrived. “That was quick,” he said.
“Actually, I’m not done. I need you for a minute.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Only a minute?”
The double entendre sent heat racing up her neck. “Well, maybe a little longer. Would you be open to being i
n a picture?”
“Eating food?”
“You won’t want to eat this, although it looks yummy. Anyway, this shouldn’t take too long.”
“It’s your dime,” he said and climbed down the ladder.
Minutes later they were back at Beth’s. “Here’s our model,” Griffin said and introduced him.
“Perfect,” Beth said with an approving nod. “Apples and an all-American male. That’ll make a great photo.”
“I’m not exactly dressed up,” he said, indicating his faded shirt.
“All the better,” Griffin said. “It’ll look more natural.”
Adding Matt to the picture made all the difference. They positioned him behind the dessert and he needed no coaxing to act as if he was ready to dig in.
“Oh, yes, I love it,” Beth said as Griffin showed her the pictures on the camera’s screen. “Thanks for being willing to help us out,” she said to Matt.
“Anything to do with food, I’m on it,” he said.
“How about some of this with real ice cream?” Beth offered.
“Oh, yeah. Twist my arm,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
“And you, Griffin? Can I tempt you with just a little?”
“How about a cup of tea instead,” Griffin suggested.
“I’ll eat her share,” Matt said with a grin.
And he did. “I don’t know how you could eat all that and not get sick,” Griffin said when they finally walked back to her car.
“I don’t know how you could not eat any of it.”
She shrugged. “I’m not a big eater.”
“You seem more like a not-at-all eater. Man, I couldn’t live like that. I love food.”
“Do you like to cook?”
“I’d better. It’s what I do for a living.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I work at Salmon Run. It’s a restaurant in Seattle. Ever hear of it?”
She shook her head. “Is it expensive?”
“Depends on what you call ‘expensive.’”
“Anything that’s not fast food. I’m on a budget.”
“Your budget probably wouldn’t take you too far at my restaurant. But good food well done, that’s worth the price.”
Starting Over on Blackberry Lane--A Romance Novel Page 16
