by Shirley Jump
“I must have left it someplace.” Her mind raced, trying to retrace her steps.
“Where?”
And then she knew. The image came back, clear as a block of ice. Michael and her at the front door of his apartment, so hungry for each other, they were tossing off clothes and shoes ... and tote bags. The planner had to have slipped out then, lost in the rushing tumble to get into bed and devour each other. Oh, double shit. “I probably left it at”—she scrambled for an answer—“Maria's.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “I didn't know you went over there.”
“You know us girls.” She let out a little laugh. “Friends are always dropping by each other's houses.”
“Well, I'm sure you'll be going right over there to pick it up.” He grinned. “I don't think you can go five minutes without that thing.”
Get it back? That would mean returning to Michael's apartment. She'd had a hell of a good exit—the kind of line Rob Reiner would be proud of. She didn't want to rewrite that ending. Wasn't sure she could.
And seeing him again? There wasn't enough chocolate on the planet to help her get through that.
“Candace, are you okay?” Barry asked. “You got silent there for a minute.”
“I'm fine.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Hopefully your fiancé.” His arms stole around her waist, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped into deeper octaves. “I've missed you so much this weekend. I dropped my mother off at the Cut 'N Go just now.” He flipped out his wrist and glanced at his Timex. “I've got, ah, thirty-nine minutes until she's all done with her set and dry. Want to go back to my place and get reacquainted?” He gave her a grin and wriggled his pelvis against hers.
Hint, hint.
“That's, uh, not very much time,” Candace hedged.
“Oh honey, you know us. In and out before the last scene of Frasier is over. Plenty of time to catch Law and Order.”
This was what her life was going to be like, she realized. It was what she'd always been seeking, she reminded herself.
Dependable nights. Dependable sex. A dependable man.
“Come on,” he said, bending down to nuzzle at her neck. “I've missed you, honey.”
“I can't. I-I-I still haven't made all my calls.”
He broke away from her. “What? How could you let that slide? This is our wedding, Candace. It's important.”
“I know. I've been busy.”
His gaze zeroed in on hers. “Busy or... unsure?”
“Unsure?” Her laughter sounded nervous to her ears. “About what?”
“About marrying me.” He took her hand in his, flipped her palm over as if studying it for a lie line. “Lately, you've been a little distant.”
He'd noticed. Oh God, how could she have done this? What kind of woman threw her fiancé to the side mere weeks before the wedding? How insane was it to be doubting him this close to their marriage? This was the kind of thing a teenager did, not a twenty-seven-year-old woman. She forced another bright smile to her face and gave Barry a kiss on the cheek. “I'm sorry. Just a lot on my mind. I'll be fine as soon as we say 'I do.'”
“That's my girl,” he said again, then kissed her back, gentle as a pillow over her face. “I can hardly wait to be calling you Mrs. Barry Borkenstein.”
“Hey Michael,” the voice on the other end of his phone purred. “Where've you been?”
Michael cleared his throat, pushing the disappointment out of his voice. He'd been hoping it would be another woman calling. But no, she'd made it pretty clear she wanted nothing to do with him. “Just get back into town, Monica?”
“Landed an hour ago. Did you miss me?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Did you save a place in your bed for me?” she asked, her voice now dropping into a kittenish range. “It's been a lonely few days at that boring IT conference in Phoenix. I swear I was about ready to do it with a pocket protector by the time I got on the plane.”
He chuckled. “You've always been an inventive lady, that's for sure.”
“Oh, I've come up with a few new tricks. All that time to myself to think and all.” Over the phone line, he heard the clink of ice in a glass as she took a sip of a drink. “You want to try them out tonight? Say, my place. In an hour?”
A week ago, Monica's voice would have charged his libido like a truck full of Energizers. She was the kind of woman he usually dated—no strings, no commitments, no expectations. A quick time in bed and a phone call when she was in town.
But that was last week. Yesterday he'd had a full-course dinner. Going back to the McDonald's drive-through filled his stomach with distaste.
“Michael? You there?''
“Yeah. Listen, I'm not going to make it tonight. I have a little touch of indigestion.”
She let out a throaty laugh. “Hopefully you're not sick of me.”
“Actually, Monica, I've met someone.”
“In a week? Come on, Michael, I know you. It's a temporary thing. You'll screw her, then come back to me for dessert.”
He toyed with the cord on the phone. “I don't think so. Not this time.” He said good-bye and hung up.
It felt better than he'd expected. Less terrifying. Maybe there was hope he could grow up after all.
His doorbell rang and he crossed to answer it Standing on the other side was Candace, looking simple and pure in a pair of denim shorts and a simple white V-neck T.
She'd come back.
Joy flooded him, washing through his heart like a dam that had suddenly burst. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed her until she returned. Now he knew. And the want for her was ten times stronger than he'd thought it would be. It all originated on the left side of his chest, right in his heart
“Hi,” he said, opening the door wide.
She didn't move forward. “I left my planner here. I only stopped by to get it.”
A concrete block of disappointment sunk to the bottom of his stomach. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Come on in.”
Her head was already shaking no. “I think it's best if I don't.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “You were right about me, you know. And you put it pretty well, too.”
“I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“Hey, I can take it.” He smiled at her. “And I needed to hear it.”
“Well, I'm glad.” She glanced at the carpeted floor, then back up at him. “Anyway, do you have my planner?”
“So, this is how it's going to be?”
“This is how it has to be. I'm getting married soon.”
“For a woman who cares about other people so much, you're pretty damn cold when it comes to yourself.”
“What?”
“I mean it. I've seen you with your friends. With the people at the shelter. You care. You give. You don't see status or age. You see just the people.” He stepped forward, knowing he was invading her space. “That's a very rare quality.”
She swallowed, a faint blush in her cheeks. “I don't know what to say to that.”
“But when it comes to yourself, you hold back. As if you don't think you deserve the best. Why is that? Why do you give and give and hold nothing in reserve for Candace?”
“I do. I take care of myself.”
“No, you don't.” He shook his head. She was the kind of woman he'd never thought existed. One who lived life with an honest kind of goodness—something he thought had disappeared long ago. Being with her filled something in him, like adding color to a black-and-white picture. But she couldn't see that for herself. “What did you do? Use up your credits on yourself years ago? Decide to live a life of deprivation in penance for something?” He let out a gust. “I don't get it. You're a beautiful, vibrant, passionate woman, but you're keeping it locked inside as if you have to keep a rope around yourself so you won't fall off the cliff.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes and she looked away for a long
, long moment. “You don't know anything about me.”
“I know everything. We're more alike than you think, Candy. Only difference is, I'm not afraid to fall off the cliff anymore.”
Her gaze swiveled back to his. “Why?”
“Because I know you're there to break the fall.” He grinned. “Because I'm falling in love with you.”
“No. No. No. You can't do this to me, Michael.” She backed up several steps, hands up, warding him off. “I don't want to hear this. You only think you're in love. It's some kind of postcoital bliss or after-sex high or something. Go have a cigarette and you'll feel totally different.”
“No, I won't.” He sucked in a breath and tried to keep his frustration at bay. “This is permanent. And it has nothing to do with spreadsheets or pro-con lists. For the first time, Candy, I believe that white picket fence life is possible. I can imagine myself sitting across from you fifty years from now. Teasing you. Happy as hell to see you still there.” He moved forward, grabbed up her hand and pressed it to his chest. “It's all in here, Candy. Listen to your heart, not your head.”
“Stop it!” she cried. “Don't do this. I know men like you. You think you feel love for five minutes and then the feeling passes like a bad cold.” She shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Don't say things to me that you aren't going to mean tomorrow. I have my whole life figured out. I can't write a new plan.”
“Can't? Or won't?”
Instead of answering, she jerked her hand away, brushed past him and dashed into the apartment, grabbing up her planner from where it still lay in the corner by his door.
“Please, just leave me alone,” she said as she exited his apartment. “I'm marrying Barry. For better or worse.”
Then she ran for the stairs like a woman on the lam. She had stolen something, he realized.
His heart.
1/2 cup butter, melted
1 cup each of pecans and peanuts, lightly toasted and chopped
1-1/4 cups semisweet chocolate chips
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 box frozen Phyllo dough, thawed
Grandma's Taste of Love Chocolate Syrup
If the truth ain't coming out, then you gotta peel back the layers and find it, honey. Getting down to bare naked honesty isn't easy, but it sure makes you feel free once you've done it. Start by mixing the nuts, chips, sugar and cinnamon in a bowl. Lay one sheet of Phyllo on a breadboard, then brush it with butter, starting on the outside and working your way in (kind of like searching for the truth about yourself).
Do the same with three more sheets, stacking them on top of each other at a forty-five-degree angle so the truth comes out pretty, too. Lay the stack inside a buttered nine-by-thirteen-inch springform pan, then put one-third of the nut mixture inside. Trim any excess, just as you should in your own life. Repeat three more times, topping with another stack of Phyllo and any extra pieces. Drizzle remaining butter on top.
Bake at 400 degrees for thirty-five minutes. When it's cooking, do some soul searching. Later, while the baklava's cooling in a pan on a wire rack, think about coming clean.
Serve with chocolate syrup and a strong dose of honesty. You'll feel as good as a goose who's finally laid a stubborn egg.
CHAPTER 22
Candace threw herself into the wedding plans like a drowning woman going after a life preserver. There was enough to do to keep her busy for a year and yet, no matter how long of a day she put in or how many hours she spent running from here to there, she still had time to think of Michael.
And then Barry.
And the stupid, complicated mess she'd created.
She'd lied to Rebecca. Sleeping with Michael hadn't made the waters any clearer. They'd muddied them like a herd of water buffaloes. Three weeks ago, she'd been so sure. She'd known what she wanted. Where she was going. And now...
Now she'd be lucky if she could find her way out of the Callahan Tunnel.
The front door opened and closed. Percy came skidding into the kitchen.
“The poet doesn't rhyme with me anymore,” Della said with a sigh, coming in and taking a seat across from Candace. “Too bad. I really liked the discount he gave me at Lingerie for Lovers.”
“Well, maybe you should look for someone who works at Bloomingdale's.” Candace waved her cereal spoon at Della. “Get some shoes out of the deal.”
“I don't think so.” Her mother dropped her head into her hands.
How many times had they sat here like this, in one kitchen or another? Della with a broken heart, Candace offering whatever solace she could. Ever since she'd been nine, she'd been her mother's sounding board after dates went sour. She shoved the bowl of Cocoa Puffs to the side and reached for her mother's hand. “Maybe you should try someone closer to your own age,” she said.
“Those men are old. Boring.”
“Dependable. Home when you want them to be.”
“Gray. Paunchy.”
“Loyal.” Candace smiled. “Grateful for the sex.”
Della laughed. “There is that.” She toyed with the napkin holder. “I've never been much of a grownup for you, have I?”
Candace shrugged. “I turned out okay.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Listen, why don't I introduce you to some people I know? Take you out on the town. Fix you up with—”
Della shook her head. “I don't need you to take care of me.”
She cast an askance eye at her mother.
“Really, honey. I may not make the best choices, but that doesn't mean I need a keeper.” She got to her feet. “What I do need is a trip to the mall. That's the way to solve a broken heart. You up for some shopping?”
“Nah, I think I'll stay here. I have some things to figure out.”
“Well, don't wallow too long.” Della laid a soft hand on Candace's shoulder. “And don't forget to worry about yourself once in a while instead of everyone else.”
Then her mother toodled a wave, called for Percy and had him hop in her purse. Within a few minutes, she was over garter-belt guy and on her way to greener pastures, armed with a Visa and good walking shoes.
Candace went to the sink, rinsed and dried her dishes, and thought about her mother's advice. All these years she'd thought Della had been the one needing to be taken care of. Maybe she didn't.
Maybe her mother wasn't cut from the same cloth as she was. Could it be possible Della was happy with her topsy-turvy life? Maybe she didn't need fixing at all.
How ironic. Maybe the one who needed fixing was Candace.
You know where the answers are, the little voice in the back of her head told her. You've known all along.
Traffic was light on the way down to Providence. It hadn't taken much to track him down, thanks to the Internet and its amazing ability to completely erase anyone's efforts to remain private. Within half an hour of searching, she'd known his address and come up with a newspaper article that profiled him at work.
Candace stood outside Ray's Fish Market on the day before she was supposed to marry Barry, took a deep breath, then confronted her past. “Danny?”
He was taller now, broader in the shoulders and not as blond as he'd been at twenty-one. When she entered the shop and spoke his name, he looked up from his fish. It took a while for him to recognize her, but then the light in his eyes dawned. “Candace! What a surprise. Are you here for a cod?”
“No, I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, give me a sec.” He hoisted the massive fish into his hands, balancing it in beefy palms. “Jerry! Heads up!” Danny tossed the bulky silver fish across the shop. Jerry caught it on his forearms, taking a step back as he did, then laid it on a fresh bed of ice. “All right, let me wash up and I'll be right out.”
A few minutes later, Candace met him on the sidewalk. They started walking toward a cafe at the end of the block.
“So, how you been?” he asked.
“Okay. Busy. I
own a gift basket shop in Boston now.”
“Really? That's great. I knew you'd do something like that. You were always so ... determined. Ambitious.”
She snorted. “Boring, you mean.”
“Nah, not at all. Being determined is good.” He ran a hand over his receding hair line. “I wish I had been. Gotten my ass in gear and had a better career going for myself than flinging fish guts around.”
“Are you happy, though?”
He shrugged. “I smell like cod all day. How happy do you think I am?”
“You looked like you were having fun in there.”
“I am.” He snatched a leaf off a maple as they passed underneath it, then began tearing it into shreds and scattering the pieces on the ground. “But I have different priorities now that I've grown up.”
She laughed. “You grew up?”
“Hey, it happens to the worst of us eventually. Took me until last year.” He grinned. “I'm a slow learner. I was having way too much fun sleeping late, kicking it on the beach and slugging beers.” He laughed. “The ideal bachelor life.”
“So what made you change?”
“A kid. Nothing can make you grow up like having a kid of your own.”
Surprise, mixed with hurt, burst inside her. He'd never even asked about her that summer, never even known about what had happened the night the two of them had forgotten to take precautions. He'd been gone and off in another woman’s arms, leaving Candace to pick up the pieces of her heart... and everything else. “You have a child?”
“Yeah. One now, another one in the works.” He ran a hand through his hair and squinted against the sun. “I used to be quite a shit when I was young. I'm sorry about how I treated you back then. If a guy like me ever came near my daughter, I’d probably kill him.”
The apology surprised her. She hadn't come here seeking one, but hearing it felt good all the same. “It's okay. It was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, it was.” He turned and grinned at her. “But hey, just so you know, there's hope, even for guys like me. Even I fell in love eventually. Made me give up my evil ways. When she got pregnant, all of a sudden getting married made a hell of a lot of sense.”
