To Catch a Camden

by Victoria Pade

  He made a sort of confused, mildly troubled face and smiled a tight-lipped smile before saying, “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “At the Bronsons’, bright and early. One of their church friends is taking them out for the day so we can just work. All of us.”

  Somehow that we had had an intimate inflection so she’d felt the need to amend it.

  He smiled more openly and she knew he was about to make a joke even before he said, “What was I in danger of this week—a ladder getting kicked out from under me? Being pushed down stairs?”

  Gia got hold of herself and said, “No threats this round. You’re safe.”

  He smiled as if he wasn’t so sure about that.

  Then he took a step toward her office door and said, “I’ll let you get back to your plants and saving lives with leaves.”

  “Saving lives with leaves,” she parroted. “Hmm...that could be one of our slogans.”

  “I don’t need credit for that, either,” he joked, making her smile.

  And like him.

  Even though she didn’t want to.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said as he went out.

  “See you tomorrow,” she answered.

  Then she was alone in her office, needing a few minutes to recover before she could go out and see anyone.

  Wondering during that time exactly what had just happened between them.

  And if not being kissed in a very long time might have robbed her of the ability to read the signs....

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, hi,” Gia said, stopping cold in the doorway of the Bronsons’ bedroom on Saturday morning.

  When she’d assigned everyone to the work that needed to be done today, it had taken a strong force of will not to team herself up with Derek. Instead, she’d put him with Jeanine to paint the guest room across the hall. So she was surprised to see him in the room she was supposed to be painting with Tyson.

  Jeanine was single and actively looking for a mate. Although it had secretly not sat well with Gia, she’d forced herself to put the two together. She’d reasoned that if something got started between them then maybe she could stomp out whatever it was that was going on with her in regards to Derek.

  But there he was, managing to look good even in a pair of ragged old jeans and a plain white undershirt-sort-of-T-shirt, taking tarps out of their packaging.

  “Hi,” he answered her greeting.

  “You know the guest room is across the hall...” she informed him.

  “Yeah, I did some rearranging—did you know that Tyson is dating the blonde bombshell from your marketing department?”

  “I introduced them, so yes, I knew that. Minna...”

  Minna, who was wearing short shorts and a bandeau top that barely contained her ample chest, while Gia was in throwaway jeans torn at the knee and an equally ratty T-shirt so it wouldn’t matter if she got paint splattered.

  Minna, whose long blond hair was flowing free, while Gia’s had to be pulled back into a twist that hardly contained her geyser of curls.

  Minna, who, yes, looked like a blonde bombshell while Gia felt as if she faded into the woodwork in comparison, despite the fact that she’d done her makeup today.

  “Plus,” she added, “Tyson is not only my best friend, he temporarily lives in the apartment on the upper floor of my house, so there isn’t much I don’t know about him.”

  “Well, it seemed like they’d want to work together. And last week Jeanine and that Adam Smythe from the Botanical Gardens were getting pretty friendly—I thought Jeanine would rather paint with him than with me. So we made some changes. Is that okay, or did you have your heart set on working with Tyson? He said he didn’t think it mattered who worked where as long as everything got done.”

  Tyson had spent most of the past week with Minna and Gia had hardly seen him. She’d thought a day of painting together would give them a chance to catch up. But more important, she’d counted on him to provide her with a safety net from Derek. She hadn’t been able to talk to Tyson, though, and let him know that it felt risky for her to be in close quarters with Derek all day, so he couldn’t have known that was her plan.

  But she certainly couldn’t tell Derek that. Or make a fuss over harmless changes in the roster.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, hoping she sounded as indifferent as she was trying to sound.

  And at the same time, she wondered if Derek had purposely switched the teams to be with her.

  That was unlikely, she told herself.

  But it still didn’t calm the tiny wave of excitement that it was even remotely possible.

  “What’s with the bed? It has some...topography...” he said then, pointing his chin at it as he stood at the foot taking the tarps out of their packages and setting them on the floor.

  “Oh, I rigged it,” Gia said, finally going all the way into the room. “Larry has reflux problems when he lies down flat, so I got him a foam wedge to prop him up a little. Marion has a bad shoulder that doesn’t bother her if her arm on that side has something to rest on, and an arthritic hip that hurts less if her knees are bent some when she sleeps. So I put a piece of foam under the mattress pad on the edge of the bed for her arm, and another piece where her knees go. I know it looks weird—they call it the Frankenstein bed—but it works.”

  He angled his head in the direction she’d just come from. “And the rigging on the light switch? I saw that when I moved the dresser away from the wall....”

  “If the dresser goes against that wall, they have more space in here, but it covered the light switch. So I fixed it so the light switch is usable with the dresser in front of it.”

  “Your idea, too?”

  “Yeah,” she said, taking the wrapping off the roll of tape she was going to use to paint edges.

  “Inventive.”

  “It’s just a few pieces of foam and a stick with a hole in one end and knob on the other,” Gia said. Then, when he shook out one of the tarps to put over the bed, she added, “Let’s take the pictures off the walls and put them on the bed first, then cover it all.”

  “Good idea.”

  There was a gallery of framed photographs on one wall, but when Gia met Derek there he was looking at them rather than taking them down.

  “These must be their parents,” Derek observed of the black-and-white pictures that showed people with Roaring Twenties hairstyles and fashion.

  Gia pointed out which was Larry’s family and which was Marion’s. “And that’s Marion with her parents when she was five or six.” Then she pointed to another cluster of snapshots. “That’s Roddy.”

  “Oooh, he doesn’t look well,” Derek said sympathetically.

  “Even as a newborn he wasn’t just pink and perfect. But they loved him the way he was.”

  Gia took down the photos and laid them extra carefully on the bed.

  “This must be Larry and Marion’s wedding picture,” Derek said as he brought another black-and-white photograph to set beside those of Roddy.

  Gia glanced at it. “I can never get over how young Marion looks in that picture. When I say that to her, she jokes that she was Larry’s child bride,” Gia said affectionately. “But even Larry was only nineteen.”

  “How did they meet?” Derek asked as they removed the remainder of the photos, placed them on the bed and then covered everything with a tarp.

  “They met at the Trocadero Ballroom in the old Elitch Gardens,” Gia said, referring to one of Denver’s original entertainment centers that had included an amusement park and a renowned theater and ballroom.

  “Some big band was there,” Gia went on. “I’ve never heard of it, but they actually have an old album of the music—and a record player to play it—and sometimes they put it on and dance to it even now. Anyway, th
ey were there separately with friends and none of them knew each other. But all of Larry’s friends had asked Marion to dance and been turned down. Then Larry strolled right across the middle of the dance floor—that’s how Marion puts it—and she says he was the one she was waiting for.”

  “She wasn’t afraid that he’d get discouraged by all the other rejections and never ask?”

  “Larry says she was giving him the eye from across the room, so he thought he’d have better luck. Marion denies it, but when she does Larry shakes his head to let you know she’s lying and she just laughs.”

  “And they’ve been married how long?” Derek asked with some amusement in his voice.

  “Since a week after Marion graduated from high school when she was seventeen—this year was their seventieth anniversary.”

  “Wow,” Derek said as they draped tarps over the dresser and lined the floor with them.

  “I know, hard to imagine, isn’t it? And they’re still so good together. Even after all they’ve gone through, one’s eyes light up when the other comes into a room, they still flirt with each other and—”

  “Sleep in the same lumpy bed.”

  Gia laughed and hoped she didn’t sound like a sappy romantic when she echoed, “They still sleep in the same lumpy bed.” Then she said, “And I catch them holding hands just sitting on the couch watching TV sometimes. Marion says Larry has never forgotten a birthday or an anniversary, and I don’t know what she does on Valentine’s Day, but whatever it is, he always says that she’s never forgotten one of those either, and then he wiggles his eyebrows and makes Marion blush.”

  Derek laughed. “Seriously? Even now, in their eighties, after seventy years of marriage?”

  “Seriously. I make sure to give this place a wide berth that whole day and night.”

  He laughed harder. “Seems like that might be wise.”

  “And they still kiss....” Gia marveled as they began to put tape around the bedroom window.

  “Aren’t they supposed to?”

  “I don’t know,” she mused. “Sometimes people who haven’t been married anywhere near as long have to force their spouse to kiss them hello or goodbye or...you know, anytime that it isn’t going to lead to...sex.... And eventually they just give up trying...”

  “Is that the voice of experience?” he asked gently.

  It was. But she’d basically been thinking out loud of her own marriage in comparison to Larry and Marion’s, and she wasn’t willing to let Derek know that, so she merely said, “I just mean that it’s still obvious that Larry and Marion really do love each other and enjoy each other’s company. They aren’t like a lot of people who’ve been together for a while—they aren’t just roommates. They don’t bicker. It isn’t as if they’re only together for convenience or out of habit but don’t really like each other—”

  “Yeah, I guess I know what you’re talking about. I’ve seen couples like that, too. The spark is gone, they’re bored, there’s no excitement or they actually seem to dislike each other, and you wonder why they’re together at all.”

  “Larry and Marion still talk. They still laugh together. They still think of each other first. They aren’t even impatient with the small things that can get annoying—Larry will say something silly and Marion thinks it’s endearing, or Marion will repeat the same story over and over and every time she does Larry will just say that she tells it so well. They’re just...happy to have each other, I guess. Even after all this time.”

  “I envy that,” he admitted. “It’s how I’d like to end up.”

  Gia laughed. “Is that what you were thinking when you went out with Tyson’s nutty cousin Sharon? That you could find it with her?” she teased as he pried open the paint can and poured some into the tray.

  Derek didn’t seem to take offense because he laughed, too. “Hey, you never know...Sharon might not have been my Marion, but it beats some of the women I go out with who make me feel like I’m watching paint dry when they talk.”

  That would probably be me, Gia thought.

  But what she said was, “So only psychics and mediums and vampire witches for you!”

  He laughed again. “Vampire witches? I don’t think I’ve ever dated one of those.”

  “But you’d probably like the fangs and magic spells, right?”

  More laughing. “Now you’re starting to sound like my grandmother.”

  That couldn’t be good....

  So Gia opted to change the subject and handed Derek the roller and the extension pole that went with it. “How about you work on the ceiling while I start the walls?”

  He agreed, and as they went to work he said, “So what was the big band that brought Larry and Marion together?”

  After telling him the name, they began to talk about what kind of music they each liked. That led to a discussion of favorite television programs and movies, travel destinations, food—besides chocolate—colors, seasons, holidays and on and on.

  To subjects Gia only hoped didn’t make her sound like his grandmother....

  * * *

  The day flew by for Gia. When it was over, she left Tyson to oversee the finishing work and cleanup so she could run home to do some last-minute preparations for the barbecue she’d invited everyone to afterward.

  Seizing the opportunity that afforded her, she quickly changed out of her paint-splattered clothes and into a pair of black capris with a tailored black-and-white flowered blouse.

  She also took her hair down and brushed it, letting it fall into its natural curls around her shoulders, and freshened her makeup.

  She had pitchers of sangria waiting when, one by one, her workers came over from next door. When she’d emailed everybody about the barbecue, she’d let them know they could change into fresh clothes at her place if they wanted. Those who did were directed to Tyson’s bathroom upstairs, her own on the ground floor or the one in the basement apartment.

  She tried not to be pleased that Derek was among the barbecue attendees—she’d been wondering if he would skip it—but she was happier than she wanted to be at the sight of him following Tyson in her back door.

  She also tried not to notice how good he looked—or smelled—after disappearing upstairs for a while and then reappearing with his hair damp, his face cleanly shaven, wearing a pair of jeans that fit him to sexy perfection and a sunflower-yellow henley T-shirt that accentuated his shoulders, chest and impressively muscled biceps.

  “Put me to work here, too,” he commanded as Gia tore her eyes away from the sight of him and continued to put sliced pickles on the condiment tray she was preparing.

  “What can I do to help?” he persisted. “I’m a great grill man if you want me to cook.”

  “You’re a great grill man?” Gia repeated skeptically.

  “Thanks to a burger joint on Colorado Boulevard where I worked when I was seventeen. You can call for references if you want.”

  A Camden had flipped burgers as a teenager? That was hard to believe, and Gia decided to call his bluff. “The barbecue is lit and the burgers and hot dogs are on a plate in the fridge.”

  “I’ll need this and these—” he said, reaching into the utensil container on the counter for a spatula and tongs, as if he really did know what he was doing. Then he went to the refrigerator.

  “There’s veggie burgers, too, for anyone who doesn’t want meat. They’re on the green dish but I’ll get that one—you won’t be able to carry it all out.”

  “I think I can manage—don’t stop what you’re doing,” he said, taking the serving platter full of hamburgers and hot dogs in one hand, and the green plate in the one that already held the tongs and spatula.

  “You’re sure?” Gia asked.

  “Sure,” he answered, pushing her screen door open with a very, very fine rear end and taking everything ou
tside.

  Gia watched him from the window above the sink, finding that he really did seem to know his way around the grill and have it all under control.

  He also seemed to be a people magnet because several of her friends and coworkers migrated to the barbecue to talk while he worked.

  So it isn’t just me, Gia thought when she saw other people drawn to his easy manner, wit and charm.

  And yet she was still jealous that other people got to be out there talking to him while she was in the kitchen....

  * * *

  Not only did Derek come to Gia’s barbecue and man the grill, he also stayed after everyone had left to help her clean up.

  “You really don’t have to do this. You’ve done enough today and tonight,” she assured him, even though she was only too happy for his company and the help—in that order.

  “Come on, I’ll rinse, you load the dishwasher,” he answered as they finished with the backyard and headed into the kitchen that was still a mess.

  “Yard work, fixing lawnmowers, painting, barbecuing, cleaning up—so much for being born with a silver spoon in your mouth, huh?” she said as he went to the sink and began to rinse the dirty dishes, handing them to her.

  “I told you, my grandmother was a farm girl and we had chores. One of the other things she stuck to was that every weeknight GiGi and all ten of us kids had to meet in the kitchen to fix dinner, then eat together, then clean up. We also changed our own sheets once a week, and made our own beds before we left for school every morning. The laundry was done for us and folded, but it was set on the end of our beds for us to put away—and I mean put away, not just toss on the floor. Or else! And as soon as we were of working age and wanted more money than our allowances provided, we got jobs—summer or weekend or after school—as long as we kept our grades up. That’s how I learned to be a grill man.”

  “So you weren’t handed a Ferrari for your sixteenth birthday?” Gia said, thinking that Derek had been raised very differently from Elliot, and that while her ex hadn’t received a Ferrari when he turned sixteen, he had been gifted with a sports car.