Much drama ensued involving an EpiPen and everyone missing the end of the game. It did no good to tell Lanie Heaven, who’d brought the candy, that she hadn’t caused his attack, that he was responsible for his own allergy. With wide, terrified eyes and a quivering voice, she’d apologized over and over again, and insisted on driving him home. Every time he’d seen her since, Lanie had blushed, stammered, and apologized — until yesterday. Yesterday, she’d been downright snappy, almost mean — though that was preferable to the groveling.
It might be a trial to live in such close proximity to Lanie, but maybe he wouldn’t run into her much. He knew little about her, but she seemed to be something of a train wreck. Her shop had a big fancy coffee bar and Lanie made an excellent espresso but she didn’t open until nine o’clock — way too late for a coffee bar to be much good, though she would sell him a cup of espresso before opening if he knocked on the door.
With her thick, shoulder-length chestnut hair, jade green eyes, and rosy complexion, Lanie was pretty, though it was impossible to tell what her body looked like in her ridiculous work clothes. In those baggy candy print pants and aprons, she always looked like a refugee from Candy Land. The few times he’d seen her at church and around town, he hadn’t noticed what she’d been wearing, but he hadn’t noticed her body then, either, so her other clothes were probably baggy too — not that it mattered.
He needed to keep his eyes to himself where that was concerned. That was another reason he’d left Mobile — to escape the pie and casserole brigade. Women bearing food. It had started six hours after Carrie died and hadn’t ended until he’d moved. At first, they’d worn somber clothes and cried, but as time passed, their skirts got shorter and their smiles got brighter.
He’d made a mistake five months after burying Carrie and Jake. When Virginia Wallace had made it clear that there was room for him in her bed, he’d gone there out of loneliness and the desperation to feel something. He’d corrected that mistake barely a month later when Virginia had begun to hint that there was also room for him at her dinner table, at her parties, and on her vacations.
Luke opened the door of Heavenly Confections and the electronic chime played a few bars of The Candy Man. Dear God, he’d forgotten that — probably blocked it out. He hoped the apartment wasn’t decorated anything like the shop. No matter how many times he came in, he was stunned anew.
The walls had a pink background with large pieces of candy painted helter-skelter over the entire surface — gumdrops, lollipops, candy canes, chocolate bars, peeps, conversation hearts, candy corn. You name it. The ceiling was meant to look like the sky but it was hard to tell if it was supposed to be day or night. It was blue with divinity clouds and a butterscotch hard candy sun, but it was also littered with chocolate stars. That didn’t even make sense.
And that wasn’t the worst of it. At least Lanie hadn’t broken any laws when she’d decorated the ceiling and walls. The concrete floor was another matter. It was painted to look like the board of Emma’s Candy Land game. Unless Lanie Heaven wanted to find herself in the middle of a lawsuit, she had just better hope that no one from the Hasbro legal team happened by and got a hankering for a bon-bon.
“Can I help you, Judge Avery?” The question came from the smiling woman behind the counter. Everybody knew who Judge Avery was these days.
“I’m here to see Ms. Heaven. She’s expecting me.” The woman looked so pleasant that he tried to return her smile. He wasn’t sure if it happened or not.
“She’s in her office.” The woman pointed to the hallway behind the counter. “It’s the door across the hall from the kitchen.” Luke hesitated. Everyone knew non-employees weren’t supposed to go behind counters, but there didn’t seem to be any other way back there and the woman was pointing.
Though the shop was relatively small, the building was big. And as Luke passed the kitchen, he saw what the rest of the space was being used for — the kitchen was huge. Surprisingly, there was no frivolous nonsense here and it was perfectly clean. The trays of lollipops left to cool on a marble counter were the only evidence that any cooking had ever gone on here.
When Luke looked into the open door of Lanie’s small office, she was sitting with her back to the door. Who sat with their back to the door on purpose? Anyone could sneak up on you and, come to think of it, he just had. Though Lanie was at her desk with file folders open and the computer on, her head was bowed, her eyes closed. He thought she was asleep until she reached under her ponytail to massage the back of her neck. This room was neater than he would have expected from someone as haphazard as Lanie seemed to be. There was a bookcase of cookbooks against the wall and a rack of African violets in front of the window. Aside from the computer and files, there was nothing on Lanie’s desk except a coffee mug.
He was about to knock on the door when she raised her head, yawned, and raised one of her legs high above her head. Today her pants and apron were pink, printed with assorted chocolates like came in a Valentine’s candy box. She pointed her bare toes, reached for the cuff of her loose pants leg and pulled it all the way up to her thigh.
Luke’s mouth went dry. Leg, miles and miles of tanned, fabulous leg. This was the leg of a dancer or a runner — or a runner who danced. Trim ankle, round calf and — best of all — smooth toned thigh. And she had another one just like it. What would it be like to kiss that leg behind the knee? To run his tongue over the bend, while his hand moved from ankle to calf and upward? Dry mouth to watering mouth. Entranced, he almost took a step forward.
Then Lanie touched a place on her upper outside thigh and turned her head to look at it — and caught sight of him.
“What? Luke!” Lanie jumped up and, forgetting she had one clog off, stumbled. Instinctively, Luke stepped out and caught her. She smelled like vanilla and caramel. Fire shot through him, then panic. For the barest second, he couldn’t remember Carrie’s smell. But, wait. Yes. There it was. Spicy. Sweet and flowery. A little baby powder mixed in. Then Lanie jerked, fanning the scent of caramel back into the air.
“Sorry — ” he said.
“I didn’t see you!” Lanie’s face turned deep red. “I bumped my leg on the counter and I wanted to see if it was bruised.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m not scared.” She pulled away from him and searched for her other shoe.
“Was it?” Luke asked.
“Was it what?”
“Was it bruised?”
“I don’t know.”
Would you like for me to look? Stop it!
Lanie opened her desk drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “Do you want to see the apartment?”
Apartment? Yes, apartment. A place to house himself and his child — Carrie’s child.
“That’s what I came for,” Luke said. Not to see your leg, catch you in my arms, smell you. Not to let you remind me that I can still be aroused.
“Then let’s go.” Lanie stepped around him to the hallway. When he didn’t follow immediately, she gazed over her shoulder with a puzzled look.
“I’m coming,” he said. If only.
Lanie walked (on those legs) toward one of the two doors down the hall from her office. “The other room is a storeroom for the shop,” she said as she unlocked the door nearest the back of the building. “This is my personal storage and there’s plenty of space if you need some.” Inside, he saw a bicycle, a treadmill, and a number of labeled storages boxes neatly stacked on industrial shelves. Was that a potter’s wheel?
Lanie gestured to the corner where a commercial washer and dryer stood. “You might as well know before we go upstairs that there are no washer and dryer connections in the apartment, but you can use these to do your laundry.”
Laundry? Of course. He hadn’t thought of laundry — how stupid was that? Lots of his clothes went to the dry cleaners, but not everything. And
Emma sometimes messed up three outfits a day. Little socks, pajamas, underwear, towels, sheets — it all went in the hamper and appeared again clean and folded. Had he thought it was magic? Good God. What else had he not thought of?
“I’m sorry,” Lanie said sheepishly. “I know it’s not convenient but the machines are high capacity and the cost of using them is included in the rent.”
She had mistaken his silence for disapproval. A worried frown appeared between her eyes. Lanie wanted to rent this apartment to him — badly.
“The laundry situation is fine,” he said.
“Really?” She wrinkled her brow a little more.
“Let’s go upstairs.” He was not in the business of giving reassurance — especially since he didn’t know if he even wanted the place.
She pointed to the back door. “There’s a covered parking pad out back. I park there, but there’s another space for you.”
Across the hall, next to the kitchen, was a large room alive with activity. A woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties sat at a computer and three teenagers were packing boxes to be shipped. None of them were dressed in bizarre candy print clothes. Lanie stuck her head in the room.
“Hey, everybody. How’s it going, Allison?”
“Great.” The woman at the computer looked up. “Today’s orders are gone and we’re getting a head start on tomorrow’s.”
“Got everything you need?” Lanie asked.
“I think so.” She studied the monitor and scrolled down. “Uh oh. We just got an order for twenty pounds of peanut brittle. If you can get it done, it can go out tomorrow.”
“No problem,” Lanie said cheerfully.
Peanuts. Luke shuddered. “You’re going to make twenty pounds of peanut brittle before tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course. We do a big Internet business and I don’t make the candy until it’s ordered. It has to be fresh. I promise next day shipping on orders that come in before noon, so we’re not obligated to get that order out tomorrow. But a happy customer is a repeat customer.”
“Not in my line of work,” Luke said. “My customers are rarely happy and they almost always repeat.”
Lanie threw back her head and her laughter rang out like schoolyard magic. It had been a long time since he’d made anyone laugh, at least not a natural laugh. “Maybe you should give them candy. Allison can talk to you about a corporate discount.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lanie opened the stairwell door across the hall from the shipping room. “Are you ready to go up?” She mounted the stairs and looked over her shoulder. “The stairwell is fireproof. My grandmother had just started renovating when she got sick. I finished it. Everything is up to code.”
Lanie was just enough ahead of him that her ass stayed level with his eyes. He might have found it appealing if candy hadn’t been dancing across it. Okay, so it was appealing. Not for him, but very appealing. He was grateful when they landed in the hallway of the second story and were at the same level again. He hadn’t noticed before that Lanie was so tall. If she’d been standing very close to him, her head might have brushed his chin and he was 6’2".
Carrie had always claimed he was a pushover for long legs — claimed she could tell by watching him when they were at the beach. She would laugh and say he could look at those Amazons all he wanted — that she knew he loved her in spite of her short legs. She was right about one thing. He had loved her, though not in spite of or because of anything. He still did.
Lanie opened the door at the end of the hall that ran between the two apartments. “This is the balcony.” She gestured to some covered patio furniture and empty flower boxes. “I keep it nice during good weather, though it’s not at its best right now.”
Luke stepped out on the lacy wrought iron balcony and was astounded at what he didn’t see. He’d expected what one usually found in the space between backdoors of businesses — alleys, dumpsters, weedy gravely parking places. Instead, the alleys were bordered by brick walls, adorned with lantern-shaped lights. In between was a little park with benches, picnic tables, and a wooden castle play set comprised of swings, slides, and climbing bars. The backdoors of the businesses across the alley from Heavenly Confections, as well as those down the street, all had neat pleasing appearances with balconies — all wrought iron like Lanie’s, but different in style and color. If he bent over the rail, he could see the parking pad Lanie had mentioned.
“This is a surprise,” Luke said.
Lanie seemed pleased that he had noticed. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It was part of the Downtown Revitalization Committee’s plans. They also encouraged storeowners to restore the apartments above their businesses and most everyone in town did. Most hadn’t been used since the 1950s. I think I have the last vacant one.”
“Do all the businesses on this block have apartments?”
“Not all.” She pointed next door to Kincaid Insurance. “Mr. Kincaid had already turned his upstairs space into storage and an employee lounge, but he redid the back of the building in keeping with the rest of us.” She pointed across the alley. “That’s Miss Annelle’s interior design shop. She did it in an art deco style and liked it so much that she moved from her house up there. You know my friend Lucy Mead? That’s her niece. She lives in Miss Annelle’s house now.”
Lanie moved to lean on the rail. Luke wanted to tell her not to lean there but caught himself.
“Byron Masters lives above Creekview books and some newlyweds just moved in above Jack and Jill Children’s Shop. I don’t know them yet.” She pointed down the block. “The Lemon Tree — that’s a gift shop — had some plumbing problems. They aren’t finished yet. Anyway. Our block was the only one that had room for a pocket park and we’re very proud of it. The Garden Club keeps up the flowers and Rotary had the castle custom made. I’m sure your little girl would love it.”
“Is the park safe?” Luke asked.
“Safe?” Lanie looked at him like he’d grown another head. “As in, are there shootouts and drug deals?”
“It’s a valid question.”
“Not to my knowledge, though Justin Eubanks went down the slide backwards last week and didn’t come to a good end. It took a piece of fudge and a raspberry lemon lollipop to make him happy again.”
If she saw what came across his desk, she wouldn’t be so cavalier — though he had to admit Merritt was pretty mild compared to Mobile.
A cold gust of wind whipped Lanie’s apron around her knees and she shivered and stepped back inside.
Luke inspected the lock on the balcony door. He didn’t like what he saw. “Will you install a deadbolt on this door? About here?” He pointed to a place, even with his head. “Out of child reach?”
Lanie nodded. “If you decide to take the place, I’ll get someone over to do that.”
The hallway was clean but nothing special, with a concrete floor. “Would it be possible for my little girl to ride her tricycle in this hall if I keep her quiet?” Luke asked.
“Oh, yes!” Lanie laughed a delighted little laugh. “Toddlers aren’t supposed to be quiet. She won’t disturb me.”
“This particular toddler can be pretty rambunctious.”
“I’m the oldest of five. I can assure you one little girl will not faze me.”
It occurred to Luke that they were both acting like this was a done deal and it was too soon for that. Regardless of the other advantages, he couldn’t live in a place that looked like the Sugar Plum Fairy had waved her magic wand over it.
“Maybe we’d better see inside,” he said.
As he’d expected, the apartment was small — kitchen, living room, one bath, two modest-sized bedrooms and another not much bigger than a walk-in closet. The Sugar Plum Fairy had been kept at bay, and the renovations were more upscale than he’d expected. No one could argue th
at the glossy wood floors, granite counter tops, high-end bathroom fixtures, and stainless steel appliances weren’t nice. It was just unusual for an apartment this size.
Once back in the living room, Lanie removed the ornate brass cover from the small coal burning fireplace. “The mantle and fireplace are original. I had gas coals installed.” She flipped a switch and blue and golden flames came to life.
He chased away any fantasy he might have been tempted to call up of long bare legs stretched out in front of that fireplace.
“Did you do the decorating?” he asked to distract himself.
“Yes,” she said proudly. “I hope you don’t think the color scheme is boring. I learned in a design class that if you don’t know who will be living in a space, it’s best to use a neutral palette.”
“So you’re a trained interior designer?”
“No.” She looked sheepish. “I thought at one time it might be a possibility, but it turned out not to be for me. But if you need someone, Lucy is a great designer.” She met his eyes again and bit her lip. “So what do you think? Are you interested?” Her tone begged him to take her to the prom.
“How much is the rent?” he asked.
She recoiled, actually recoiled, before naming a figure. He had to work to keep his mouth from dropping open. It was an absurd amount for an apartment this size with one bathroom, no dining room, and no laundry room. It might not be unfair for the upscale trappings, but it did explain why the apartment was vacant. The rent was more than anyone in his right mind would pay. But he wasn’t in his right mind — hadn’t been for a long time.
There was no way the king-sized bed from his Mobile house would fit in the master bedroom — at least not and leave room for much else. But he could buy something new. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe he should get rid of all that stuff in storage. There were some things of Carrie’s that should be set aside for Emma, but the rest could go. He felt a pang of regret at the thought of never again sleeping in the bed where he and Carrie had laughed and loved and made Emma, but what comfort could it bring anyway? There was no comfort; there was only alone.
Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance) Page 31
