Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  “Did you move my yellow sweater from the recliner? I can’t find it.”

  Cait brushed the tears off her cheek. “Let me help you look for it, Mom.”

  ***

  Back in her Ridgewood Grove studio apartment, Cait couldn’t sleep. It was more than night-before-school jitters. Something tugged at her mind.

  She threw off her quilt and moaned, thinking of her canceled festival and the wondrous sense of belonging and connection she’d experienced last year. How her mom and Eleanor giggled with the children, dabbing paint on them. How the excited “goblins” told her of their adventures. How the community joined in a spirit of togetherness and fun. Everyone appreciated the Hoopla and, in doing so, they appreciated her.

  Cait sat up and played with the fringe of her quilt. If only she could get to know Garrett better, his motivations would be revealed. She knew she could change his mind if she had enough time, but there was a new problem. He didn’t seem real impressed with the festival’s offerings. His facial expression when she’d described the brown-sugar squash had rivaled even board member Shelley McAllister’s last year, who’d looked horrified when Mr. Jenkins explained his recipe for rutabaga al formaggio.

  What a piece of work that woman was. The way she dressed like she was one of the Pussycat Dolls—her focus on hair and makeup, too—convinced Cait that Shelley cared more about appearances than education. Why would she even want to serve on the school board?

  Cait sighed, thinking about all the vendors and all the terrific treats they’d miss out on now. No grilled bratwurst or strawberry-rhubarb pie. No caramel apples, spiced cider or Mr. Koolemar’s Kreamations.

  The Tangy Citrus-Pumpkin Mélange she and Garrett tasted that afternoon haunted her. Reminded her that she’d hoped to feature baby pumpkins and oranges at this year’s Hoopla, placed in cornucopias, along with apples and pears, maybe walnuts and cranberries, too, to highlight the harvest theme and the vivid fall colors.

  Too bad she couldn’t do that now.

  She poked at her pillow and closed her eyes, still sitting upright. She should go back to sleep, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Garrett. Over and over. He’d sidetracked her. He’d told her nothing about the real reason behind the canceled festival. True, he bought the classroom supplies for her, but then he absconded with her to the beach. She barely had time to tie up the loose ends for tomorrow, which should have made her furious.

  Instead…it didn’t.

  He’d been charming, mystifying, oddly humorous and, well, almost likable. She hated to admit it. And he might’ve kissed her. And she might’ve let him.

  For heaven’s sake, what was she thinking?

  It couldn’t be a good idea to get personally involved with an administrator, even if he wasn’t her boss.

  But his joking nature put her at ease. His thoughtfulness surprised her, as did his interest in her background. Even that silly cow notebook was kind of funny.

  She smiled, remembering.

  Still, there was something so disturbing about him. Maybe the way he smelled, all sumptuous and sensual, as if they were in an Italian villa on the Adriatic and not merely at the edge of a Great Lake. But that wasn’t what triggered the recognition. It was something about his face, about his name. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

  Impulsively, she got out of bed and hopped on the Internet, scrolling through the online white pages in sleepy absentmindedness.

  Ellis.

  Her fingers, squeezing the mouse, paused in mid-click—her memory finally catching up with her intuition.

  Cornucopias…or maybe baskets? Fruit and nut gift baskets?

  Holy Mackerel! He can’t be related to THAT Macauley Ellis, can he?

  The advertisement was located at the top of their company’s webpage. “From Our Family To Yours,” or so said their slogan. “We ship our Nutty Fruit gift baskets anywhere in the world. Order online or call our toll-free number 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The Ellis Corporation delivers to your door.”

  They certainly did, she thought dryly. Right to her classroom door. Garrett Macauley Ellis—no doubt one of the heirs to the Ellis Fruit and Nut Gift Basket Empire. Base of operations? Why, New Haven, Connecticut, of course.

  She whipped the phone over and punched in the numbers. Ellis wasn’t exactly an uncommon name. Maybe Garrett was a second cousin or something to the big wig. God, her mother loved those ridiculous baskets. She held her breath as the phone rang.

  “Ellis Corporation. The Nutty Fruit,” the cheery young thing answered. “How may I assist you?”

  “I—um—hi.”

  “Hi, ma’am.”

  “I was just wondering about…about your gift baskets. Are, um, pumpkins or…kiwi fruit ever included in one of your fruit and nut combinations?” Cait was rarely this impulsive and felt woefully unprepared for conversation with a real, live human at this time of night. She covered her eyes with her palm, glad the girl couldn’t see her.

  “I don’t believe we have either in any of the standard baskets, but we can surely create one to suit your preferences, if you wish to make a special request. Do you have a particular occasion in mind, ma’am, or a list of produce you wanted to order?”

  “Ah, well, I’m…not sure. What’s available?”

  “Oh, our selection is huge. You might enjoy checking out our Ellis website at www.TheNuttyFruit.com, or I’d be happy to send you a copy of our international catalog.”

  There was a long pause as the girl waited for a response.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes. Yes, the catalog would be great,” Cait said finally, reciting her address. Then, screwing up her courage, she added, “The, um, family mentioned in the ads—you know, ‘From our family to yours.’ I wondered, how many people are in that family?”

  “It’s a family of five, ma’am. Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, of course, and their adult children Jacob, Marianne and that rascal Garrett.” The cheery girl’s voice rose an octave as she giggled his name.

  “Uh, thanks,” Cait murmured. She let the phone sink into its cradle.

  Damn him for lying to her. After everything she told him…

  In business, he’d said of his parents. In business, indeed. A multimillion-dollar corporation kind of business. And he’d been questioning her about not choosing a lucrative profession.

  How did he manage to keep that juicy piece of background information from the small-town rumor mill? She knew he’d been hiding something, but even she hadn’t expected it to be something like this. It was more than an understatement. It was a huge lie of omission.

  Everyone knew of the successful Ellis Corporation. Macauley Ellis, Garrett’s father, had been featured often enough in Opulence magazine to have his own display rack. She should know. It was Fredric’s favorite publication. He read it with the fervor a devout minister reserved for reading scripture.

  As for Garrett, she couldn’t care less if he was as wealthy as a Rockefeller. More troubling was that he was some East Coast corporate heir masquerading as a small-town financial director. He could leave at any time with little or no consequence to himself. For the district’s sake, she hoped he wouldn’t act irresponsibly.

  But how could she forgive and forget how he’d lied to her today? How he’d probed into her family life, asking all kinds of questions, yet hadn’t been willing to share an enormous part of his personal history with her? He had to know she wasn’t some fortune hunter after him. God, he was the one who’d made the first move. He nearly kissed her!

  And, even after he knew how she despised being misled, even after he knew she recognized his name from somewhere, he pretended he was just some average person. Someone like her. But all the while he must have been laughing at her ignorance of his background, hiding behind his ultra-suave veneer.

  Damn him, he was just like Fredric.

  Another tall, dark, handsome liar who’d snicker about her behind her back and make her miserable until he moved on to “better things.” Never. Ever. Again.<
br />
  She wove her fingers through her hair and pulled, cringing. Garrett might be more subtle, might even be more personable than Fredric, but he had the deceitful part nailed down. And, for reasons she couldn’t quite put her thumb on, he made her ten times as angry.

  Her first impressions of the man had been correct after all. She could never let her guard down with him. But, oh, if he thought he was going to try another slick evasion move on her, he didn’t know a single thing about the woman he was dealing with.

  Her friends weren’t going to have to bribe her with ice cream to dig into his life any more. She’d get him back for this. No additional incentives needed.

  ***

  Garrett stood outside Milwaukee’s Mitchell International Airport and speed-dialed his brother’s number on his cell phone.

  “Yo?” Jacob said, clear as a bell one thousand miles away.

  “Yo, yourself. Listen, I just heard about the leg. How are you?”

  “Ah, I’ll heal. Damned Jet Ski. But this is nothing. You, little brother, are in real trouble. Mom and Dad want you home.”

  “Really? Did Dad tell you to call me on his behalf?” Garrett couldn’t quash the smidgen of hope that rose at the thought.

  Instead of answering, Jacob asked, “How the hell could you leave the East Coast to go live in Wyoming?”

  “Wisconsin.”

  “Wherever,” Jacob said. “Point is, we’ve barely seen you since last New Year’s Eve and Mom and Dad want you back in Connecticut.”

  “They’ve got you.” Which was so true even Jacob couldn’t shoot off a quick comeback. After all, who needed a second son to run the family company when the first son did such a spectacular job? Even in a hip-to-toe cast.

  Jacob moaned loudly on the line.

  Concern pulsed through Garrett’s body. “You okay?”

  “Oh-ohhhh,” Jacob groaned. “Mindy was expecting a romantic evening for our three-week anniversary tomorrow. A. Very. Romantic. Evening.”

  Garrett rolled his eyes. “She’ll live. If she loves you, she can wait until you’re not quite so bruised.”

  His brother scoffed at this. “Love has nothing to do with it. You know women are only after our stock portfolios. I’m talking short-term erotica, Bro. High performance. And I’m at my peak.”

  “You’re well over a decade beyond your peak, Jacob.”

  “That age seventeen thing is an old wives’ tale. Now listen, have fun on your Midwestern adventure for a few days then get your butt back to New Haven before Mom has another conniption.”

  No mention of Dad, huh? Something bitter clenched at Garrett’s throat. The hurt of his father’s disapproval seeped back in, hard as he tried to shut it out. He couldn’t go back. Still, he hated to let his brother down.

  “I can’t,” he managed to say.

  “Why? And this better be good.”

  “You know why. But besides that, it’s because I’ve got a job to do. Because I made a promise. Because I’m under contract. Take your pick.”

  Jacob huffed on the line. “Nothing against the school, but so what? Our company’s an international phenomenon. We need you more than some minuscule elementary district in Wichita.”

  “Wisconsin.”

  “Right, right.”

  “And it’s not that tiny, Jacob. We’re close to Milwaukee—”

  “Brewers, Bucks, beer and Happy Days,” Jacob chanted.

  “—and if I solve the financial problems here, I can work with larger school districts next year or maybe a few universities.”

  “How exciting,” his brother said in his driest voice.

  “To me, yes, it is.”

  Jacob sighed. “Well, okay then, but I won’t give up on you.”

  “Oh, I know you won’t. Just take care of yourself so you can get back to being the Ellis Corporation’s latest, greatest CEO.”

  There was a pause. “Truly, Bro, we could share this,” Jacob murmured. “No matter what anyone says.”

  Garrett cringed at the idea of turning down the brother he’d looked up to for thirty years, but it had to be done. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’re the man who gets to wear the company crown. And it looks good on you.”

  “But—”

  “Look.” Garrett cut him off, unwilling to have this same argument again. “Stop worrying about me. I’ve got my own empire.”

  His brother sighed again. “Yeah, I know. Out in Winnipeg. All right, catch you later. And tell Marianne I said hi.” Jacob hung up.

  “Bye, big brother,” Garrett said to the dial tone. “I will. And it’s Wisconsin.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Garrett was thrown to the floor of Terminal Three by a force he’d long ago ceased trying to tame.

  “Hiya, Sis,” he said, the words muffled by the fuchsia sweatshirt she carried, a sleeve of which happened to be caught in the corner of his mouth. His head connected with the turf-like carpeting, making a dreary thud.

  “How’s my favorite big brother?” Marianne asked, grinning as she brushed the carpet dust from her jeans and began to stand up.

  “Forget the flattery. I’ve heard you say that to Jacob, too. And I was fine until about ten seconds ago. Now I think I’ve got a concussion.” He rubbed the back of his head.

  “Oh, you. Don’t pretend you didn’t know I’d be excited to see you. Finally. It’s been ages.” She punched his arm in the familiar playful manner she’d perfected when they were kids, but something in her eyes looked serious. He felt a very adult foreboding.

  “Marianne—”

  “Don’t feed me any of your excuses, G. I’m not Mom, and I’m not going to be waylaid by your pretty speeches about dedication to this latest venture of yours. I know the financial director thing is a big deal, and I’m happy for you. I really am.”

  “But?”

  “But Mom and Dad miss you. Both of them.”

  “Is that a direct quote from Dad, Marianne, or are you just interpreting?” He damn well already knew the answer, though.

  She looked down in a move of classic gaze evasion.

  “Listen, kiddo. Just because I don’t want to help run the family company, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be a part of the family. Isn’t there a way to have the latter without the former?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. But I do know Mom and Dad need you, and they want to see you sometime soon. Hiding out in Wisconsin isn’t going to make up for what happened last year.”

  “Really beating around the bush tonight, aren’t you, Sis? What else is on your agenda? Gonna tell me I’m getting too fat? My hairline’s receding? Maybe I no longer have that winning personality you adored so much during our ill-fated youth?”

  “Stop being so dramatic, although—” She tilted her head and scanned his torso. “Maybe you did put on a pound or two.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, G. So, it’s late. You taking me back to this quaint village of yours? Ridgeburg Grove?”

  “Ridgewood Grove and, no, I’m not. My condo’s in New Brighton, remember? And don’t get any funny ideas about inspecting the school. Or surprising me with a mural for my office wall. Or telling nasty stories about me to my new colleagues. You’re not allowed within ten miles of the town.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist and squeezing—hard. “I’ve missed you, Garrett.”

  He kissed the top of her head, picked up her carry-on luggage and nodded toward the baggage claim area. “Missed you, too, Sis.”

  ***

  “They’re coming. They’re coming. The children are coming!” Jenna announced the next morning, breathless from her sprint down the hall.

  “We’ve got a few more minutes, don’t we?” Cait scanned the classroom, frantically thrusting a handful of newly sharpened pencils into a mug on her desk. A loud bell rang. Eight o’clock.

  “Aaaahh!” the two teachers shrieked.

  They race-walked out of the room toward the gym just as the mad charge of s
currying feet reverberated through the foyer.

  Cait took her place in the second grade section next to Loni and readied herself to meet her new group of second graders.

  She eyed each one of the twenty-five children as they scampered, skipped, darted or meandered toward her line.

  A blond boy and his grinning buddy were already getting into mischief, snickering over a toy one had stashed in his backpack.

  A little girl with the hugest blue eyes wrinkled the shirtsleeves of her mother while squeezing a last farewell.

  A couple of girls with sparkly sunglasses and Barbie T-shirts discussed a new Disney flick.

  A heavy-set boy near the back of the line clutched his Batman lunchbox. He sat on the floor, brown eyes cast down. Cait felt a surge of compassion and wished she could give him a hug.

  A second bell rang. The children squealed and stood to attention.

  Ronald Jaspers tore himself away from his greeting station at the gym’s entrance. “Welcome everyone,” he intoned, patting the sweat off his pallid brow, glancing around the room and projecting his authority to anyone in doubt. “We have a thrilling new year in store for us.”

  He paused and motioned for everybody to clap. “For those who may not know me, I’m Mr. Jaspers, Ridgewood Grove’s principal, and all of us here—” he waved his hands in the direction of the teachers, “join together in making every day of this school year an exciting day.”

  She watched the way Ronald scanned the room while the parents applauded politely. Did he even notice the four frightened kindergarteners sobbing in their mothers’ arms? One distraught youngster had to be escorted out to the hall, but nothing seemed to stop the droning of his inspirational, first-day discourse.

  After saying the Pledge together, Ronald dismissed the crowd.

  In the section to Cait’s right, Loni set to work perfecting the straight lines for which her classes were notorious. At Cait’s left, Marlene flocked her first graders together with a waving motion. And straight ahead, Cait saw Jenna’s third grade class bouncing out of the gym in merry imitation of their enthusiastic new teacher.