Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  Garrett narrowed his eyes. Technical words sounded so strange coming out of her mouth. He remembered the young Shell Oliver. That girl was exacting when it came to fingernail polish and designer clothing, but she wouldn’t have been able to pass a basic chemistry exam if her Prada handbag depended on it.

  “You seem to know a great deal about ice cream production for someone who doesn’t like the stuff,” he said, careful to present it as curiosity not accusation.

  “Oh, I know all about it,” she said cryptically.

  Before Garrett could question her further, Charles McAllister showed up.

  “What are you drinking, honey?” Good Ole Chuck said.

  Shelley offered her cup to him. He took a sip and grimaced. He looked around with a sour expression. “When does this end?”

  “Only another half hour,” Garrett offered before introducing himself.

  The jerk tried to out-muscle him on the handshake.

  “So, do you lift, Ellis?”

  “Lift?”

  “Weights. Free standing? Nautilus?”

  As if he’d actually compare workout notes with that dickhead. “Both, on occasion,” Garrett said.

  Chucky sniffed, turned his attention to his wife. “I just saw Doug. Need to talk to you. Alone.”

  The two of them stalked off and Garrett was left with the uneasy feeling he’d just missed the punch line on a joke. He spotted Cait spying on him across the auditorium. He was tempted to walk over there, politely dismiss Jenna and then squeeze all the worry out of his blond angel, but he had to control the urge.

  As it was, she was pulling away from him instead of being charmed and moving nearer. In past relationships, he’d lost his temper fast with the hot-and-cold routine and brushed off the offending lady as gently as possible. But Cait wasn’t as easy for him to shake. She looked like a sea nymph in that soft blue sweater. It enhanced her thoughtful, questioning eyes and reminded him of her sharp mind and warm heart. A heart that was beautifully cushioned by the lovely swell of her breasts. And the sweater displayed them to perfection, too.

  She was gorgeous inside and out. The way she cared about her family, the children, the community—everything she did showed her kind spirit. He knew she liked him, at least a little. He’d let her know in a hundred ways how much he liked her. Okay, not in a let’s-get-married-and-stay-together-until-the-end-of-time sense, but he didn’t feel that way about anybody.

  Still, even after all the time they’d spent together, he couldn’t get a clear read on whether she wanted him. Why not?

  The parent called his attention back with a question about budget allocations for academically challenged learners. But, though Garrett was talking like a financial director, he was thinking like a teenage boy. His eyes followed Cait out the room.

  STEP 9:

  And, finally, everyone involved in the preparation

  of this lip-smackingly good recipe

  needs to blow a kiss into the mixure.

  Whisk well.

  ~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,

  Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Johnny Appleseed Day was on her heels. Although no special all-school event was scheduled to commemorate the notable September twenty-sixth birth date of John Chapman, eighteenth century apple-tree planter extraordinaire, Cait still needed to get things ready for her class. She jotted down a list of possible apple activities for tomorrow:

  *counting the number of seeds and graphing the results

  *tasting the differences between apple types and rating them

  *measuring their heights and circumferences in centimeters

  *slicing apples widthwise so the “star” is visible and dipping them in tempera paint to create apple-star patterns on paper

  *sticking toothpicks with raisins and marshmallows on them into the apples to make Scary Fruit Monsters

  *coring them, adding a cinnamon-sugar filling, then baking…

  Since making Scary Fruit Monsters topped her personal favorite list, Cait circled the asterisk by it but soon found herself doodling on the edge of her paper. She deserved a moment of laziness this week. She needed it. It was imperative for her mental health to take time away from serious school tasks and worrying about Mom to…draw the perfect depiction of an enormous marshmallow-mouthed Macintosh with beady raisin eyes who, if given the opportunity, would plan a hostile takeover of Milwaukee.

  She tilted her head to consider its proportions on the page. Goodness, the thing kind of looked like Ronald Jaspers.

  “Nice piece of artwork you got there,” Garrett said, balancing a heavy-looking box on his shoulder. He’d entered the room so stealthily she didn’t see him until he spoke.

  She covered up her drawing with the first folder she could grab and leaped from her desk. “Umm, hi. What’s in the box?”

  “C’mon and see,” he said, setting the mass of cardboard down on Daisy’s desk and motioning her over. She opened the box and peered inside. “Oh, wow! Garrett, your sister’s amazing.”

  “Psychotic is the word I usually use,” he said, pulling out an individually wrapped gift basket, “but she does know her art.”

  “These are beautiful.” Cait ran her fingers along the carefully crafted leaf-shaped basket. It was constructed like a large, curved maple leaf that formed a bowl for the fruit. Inside, the apples, tangerines, peaches and baby pumpkins were arranged to highlight the brighter fall colors, while walnuts and chestnuts accented the composition with browns. The entire piece was wrapped in transparent gold plastic wrap and tied with long red and yellow ribbons. “Did Marianne design this?”

  “Yep.”

  She pulled out eight baskets. Little Styrofoam balls went flying. “Gracious, she already sent me a display basket for the classroom. Are all of these centerpieces for the Hoopla?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh…well, that’s okay.” Cait tried to hide her disappointment. “Even one or two would be lovely, so—”

  “No, sweetheart. What I meant was, you can use them for centerpieces, sell them for profit, make Carmen Miranda hats out of them—I don’t care. I doubt Marianne cares. They’re her gift to you. But there are five more boxes in my car.”

  He glared at her with a look of good-natured irritation. “And if either of you think, for even ten seconds, that I’m storing damn near fifty of these eyesores in my condo for over a week, you’ve got me confused with some other Ellis.”

  “She sent us six boxes?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The UPS guy looked insanely cheerful to get rid of them. Good thing I could work from home this morning and be there to help unload.” He pointed to a corner of the room. “You can have them here, or I’ll transfer them to your place. Your choice, but I want my Beemer smelling like empty pizza cartons and Tootsie Rolls again real soon—not fruit salad.”

  Cait giggled imagining Garrett’s fancy car filled from leather seat to sunroof with the pretty baskets. A memory tugged at her. She glanced at the place where the ribbons were fastened around the plastic wrap. “Hey, no photo tags on these.”

  “Damn right. If there’s only one thing Marianne and I agree on, it’s that our last family portrait sucked.” He laughed. “That was taken three years ago and it was the last time we all agreed to pose for Dad’s photographer. Marianne hated it even more than I did. Pretty sure she snipped the tags off herself,” he said, eyeing the ribbons with suspicion. “She’s taken to going into supermarkets with a pair of scissors stashed in her purse, just in case.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought you all looked really nice in it.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

  “Hi, Miss Walsh!” Robbie Cranz waved from the door with a couple of his fourth grade friends in tow. “Hi, Mr. Ellis. We got a pass from library ‘cuz we wanted to see if you needed any extra help with the Harvest Hoopla.”

  “Yeah,” another kid said. “Anything at all.”

/>   She grinned at them. Robbie, now nine, had been a student in her very first class two years ago. Seeing his confidence and abilities grow had been a private joy.

  “Well, I’m going to need lots of assistance on the day of the festival, and you boys—because you’re mature fourth graders—will be able to do things my students might not be able to do. Can you get to New Brighton a little early to join the set-up team?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Robbie rubbed his palms together, and the other two boys echoed his enthusiasm.

  “Wonderful. I’ll be counting on your help.” She glanced at the clock. “I need to pick up my class from art in about twenty minutes, and there’s not much more we can do this afternoon—”

  “Unless,” Garrett interjected, “you’ve decided to house your sweet treasures here…” He gave her a hopeful look. “I could use some real manpower lifting those boxes.” Cait saw Robbie swallow twice in anticipation of her answer.

  “Why, Mr. Ellis, what an excellent idea,” she said. “I’ll just clear away a corner spot and leave the hard work to you four gentlemen.”

  A few squeals escaped the boys mouths, but they stuck out their chests and strode up to Garrett.

  Garrett appraised them like a general overseeing his troops. “Let’s go, men,” he said to them, jingling his car keys.

  Tears stung her eyes as she watched them exit. Garrett casually placed a hand on one boy’s shoulder, gave another a grateful nod and ruffled Robbie’s light-blond hair. Three pairs of eyes gazed up at him as if they’d just met Superman.

  He was a natural with them, she realized. As the big boxes made their way into the classroom, the image of Garrett with kids of his own materialized before her like a daydream. She blinked and looked away.

  When the boys had safely returned to the library, Garrett said, “I know we only have a few minutes before you have to get your class, but I wanted to ask—did you dig a little more into Jenna’s motives?”

  She sighed. “I did. I didn’t find anything. And, Garrett, I’m not going to find anything. If there’s only one thing I’m certain of in this whole crazy money-leak mess, it’s that Jenna’s not involved.”

  He leaned closer. “How could you possibly know that? You sure you’re not being blinded by your friendship?”

  “I’m not blinded. I just know.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I do,” she told him. “It doesn’t happen to me very often, I’ll admit, but there are people I can trust with my whole heart. Jenna’s one of them.”

  She saw a hard-to-decipher light in his eyes. “And how did she manage to achieve that remarkable feat?”

  “With time. And loyalty. And genuine friendship,” she whispered. And with honesty, commitment and appreciation, she added silently.

  He nodded. “Okay, then. Jenna’s off the hook. But perhaps later you can clue me in as to what logical processes back up your intuition. And Marlene and Loni are going to need a closer, more in-depth examination. We’ll have to put into play that plan we talked about at the diner. Deal?”

  “Fine.” She glanced at the clock. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “All right. Last thing. There’s a new development from the school board sector you should know about.”

  “What is it?”

  He dipped his head and lowered his voice. “I spotted Chuck and Shelley out on the golf course together over the weekend. There were lots of people at Four Gates, but those two were playing with none other than Doug Chippenak and Ronald Jaspers. It looked like an intense foursome, and Mike Firenzi showed up for a while to chat, too.”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I was busy batting off one of the Club’s too-enthusiastic personal trainers.” He shook his head. “Scary, those dudes. So I couldn’t watch for long, and I was too far away to catch any direct quotes. I just thought you should know they’ve all been very, very cozy lately.”

  “And maybe not just lately…”

  ***

  The next afternoon, Cait drove to New Brighton, her car so familiar with the road it steered, shifted and braked by itself. She entered her mother’s house only to catch the tail end of a jovial conversation.

  “So, what did he say then?” Garrett’s smooth voice prompted.

  “Oh, then my dear Hank told the gentleman that, no, we weren’t looking for olive groves but orange groves. And the man said, ‘Well, you could’ve told me that in the first place!’ So we finally got the directions to Tampa, after every possible delay, and made the tour bus just in time.”

  Mom and Dad’s famous Florida trip the year before Seth was born. Cait sighed. She loved that silly story and was jealous, suddenly, of Garrett getting to hear it without her. What the heck was he doing here, anyway?

  She walked into the family room and gave him a questioning look.

  “Oh, Cait, dear. You’re back from the market already?” her mother asked.

  “No, Mom, that was yesterday. I went to the market yesterday afternoon. Today I just came straight from the school.” Garrett’s eyes found hers, and he shared an understanding smile with her.

  “Fine, dear. That’s fine. Mr. Ellis was so nice to stop by. He brought us a delicious treat from the bakery.”

  Garrett lifted his shoulders in a modest shrug. “It’s nothing big. Just an apple pie to celebrate a holiday only elementary kids know about. Goes great with cinnamon ice cream.”

  “Mr. Koolemar’s Cinnamon Sticks ‘N Scones, no doubt?”

  “Yep. It’s in the freezer downstairs. We didn’t want to start without you.”

  Ice cream and pie seemed as necessary to her as oxygen and fresh water right then. She backed out of the room. “I’ll go get everything set up.”

  “Oh, all right, Cait,” her mother said, waving her away.

  She tried not to feel offended by the easy dismissal, but the pang of hurt lodged in her chest and blended with the sadness already lurking there. Why did children always have to feel so powerless in situations like these? She knew her mother couldn’t help losing the present, but did she have to exclude her daughter from recollections of the past as well?

  “Mrs. Walsh,” Garrett stage-whispered, almost as if he’d heard Cait’s thoughts, “you promised to tell me about Cait’s adventures with the housepainters when she was a toddler.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Mom!” Cait shouted from the hallway, but her mother’s delighted laugh rang out, and Cait could hear Garrett encouraging her.

  “If you wanna do damage control, Cait,” Garrett called, “you’d better step to it.”

  In spite of the sadness, she couldn’t help but smile at Garrett’s efforts. She hurried down the stairs. On her way back up, ice cream in hand, she heard her mom begin, “My, my, was that ever an aggravating day. Cait was wearing these adorable panda overalls, and I’d just put her hair up in pigtails when the doorbell rang…”

  ***

  Seth popped the cap on a lite beer and held it out for Garrett before pulling another bottle out of the fridge for himself.

  Garrett took a swig, letting the liquid coat his tongue until he couldn’t stand to keep it hostage in his mouth any longer. The taste was so familiar it was strange. It belonged to another time. To late nights shared with Jacob during their wild youth.

  He heard rustling noises upstairs and an occasional shriek as Cait and her mom hunted through a box of her childhood memorabilia. Seth had come over during the pie eating and stayed to keep Garrett company while the two women slipped into an earlier decade.

  “Oh, my God, my N’Sync poster!” Cait exclaimed.

  Seth raised his eyebrows at Garrett in an expression of long-suffering sibling exasperation.

  “So, pardon my ignorance of this,” her brother said to him, “but you’re a financial director for a school district after having worked in a big corporation. Big change, or no? Is what you’re doing now what you’d expected?”

  “The math challenge is still there,” Garrett said. “But
it’s a different atmosphere being around kids and teachers during the day and living on my own out in the Midwest. Those were changes I’d anticipated, and I like them.” He paused, figuring he’d let Seth infer what he wanted about his romantic relationship with Cait. He didn’t have anything to hide. Well, not much.

  But honesty made him add, “In another sense, though, there are things I didn’t expect. I sure didn’t think it’d take this long to discover the source of the financial problem.” He knew Seth well enough now to trust his discretion, so he explained briefly about the money leak. “I’d hoped to have it wrapped up by now.”

  Seth took a few swigs of his own beer and nodded. “What about your family’s company? Will you be part of that operation again?”

  He and Jacob had had this talk as well…too many times to count. It had never been a serious consideration from Garrett’s viewpoint, but after New Year’s it was nonexistent. Jacob never gave up trying, though. The guy was brilliant, generous and funny. Garrett’s personal hero. Who the hell could compete with his awesome brother?

  “I doubt it,” Garrett said to Seth. “But I’ve learned never to say never.” Hopefully he could snag the culprit before the holidays. Before the next time his parents would want to “talk.” Prove himself to be a success in something, and maybe then the pressure would stop.

  Cait’s brother plunked a basket of chips in the middle of the table, straddled a chair across from Garrett and pointed to the snacks. “Wanna play a round or two while we wait?”

  “My Saved By The Bell DVD!” Cait’s elated voice floated down the stairs.

  Garrett chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Seth lifted his chin toward the ceiling. “We’ll give ‘em fifteen more minutes before we make those two reenter the twenty-first century. Then I’m kicking you and Cait out.” He gave Garrett a friendly nod and nabbed a chip. “Not to be rude, but I need to speak with my mom privately, and I sure as hell don’t need my sister bringing out her old American Girl dolls in the middle of the conversation. Take her out to dinner or something. Anything. Just get her out of my hair for tonight.”