by Doreen Alsen
Ahem. Ainslie did have some booty. She’d like to have less booty, but it was what it was. She felt herself blush as she moved out of Dave’s arms. “Sorry, Bobby.”
“Your order for table 20 is up.”
“Oh. I’d better pick it up then.” She hurried into the kitchen to get her order. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten it.
No more kissing high school principals at work, no matter how much she wanted to.
****
Dave watched Ainslie scamper off to pick up her food. He admired the way her sweet backside moved as she walked away. Whatever it was about her, Ainslie Logan had wiggled right into his heart.
Dave looked up to find Bobby staring at him.
“You want to explain just what the hell you’re doing with Ainslie?” Bobby looked scary on a good day. Today must not be a good day, since Bobby looked more than ready to do some damage.
Dave bristled a little bit at what Bobby implied—that he was using Ainslie. “Back off, Bobby.”
“She’s a real nice lady who’s gotten a real bad deal. Somebody’s got to look after her.” He drummed on the bar with calloused fingers the size of Volkswagens. “She’s got kids.” He took a swig of his cola.
“She’s got great kids.”
While it was nice that Ainslie had a knight in a kitchen apron, Dave took exception. He was going to be Ainslie’s hero. He was going to be the one to take care of her and her children. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve got it all covered.”
“Once upon a time you couldn’t say anything nice about her, and now I catch you with your tongue down her throat? In the middle of a public restaurant. My restaurant.” Bobby picked up a knife and cut a wedge out of a lime. He made it look dangerous. “She’s not a plaything, and I’m just making sure you watch your step with her.”
“Time’s change.” He met Bobby’s gaze with his own.
“Something tells me I’m gonna need to get out of the kitchen more often.” Bobby looked past him.
Dave turned his head to see what Bobby was staring at. Chelsea stood there, studying her dupe pad like it had the cure for cancer written on it.
“I’ve got an order.” She ripped the dupe off the pad and handed it to Bobby. “I need a couple of Coors Light,” she told Spike.
Ainslie passed the bar while carrying a tray laden down with food. It looked too heavy for her. Clearly she was having a problem with it, though she had a smile plastered on her face. He wanted to take it off her shoulder and carry it himself. She shouldn’t have to work so hard.
So what could he do about that?
He didn’t know. He liked spending time with her, he loved talking to her. He loved touching her. Something loosened inside him when he was with her, something warm and soothing, a feeling which alternated with being turned on like he had stepped on a live wire.
But, still and all, she soothed him. She smoothed some the rough edges in his world.
He didn’t want to wait any more. Time to step things up. But what to do?
Dinner at Hope’s? He’d already done that.
Dancing? Okay, well, he guessed a high school dance wasn’t exactly the most romantic place to impress her with his moves.
He could cook for her. Didn’t feel quite right to him. She needed something unique, something romantic, something she wouldn’t associate with anyone else. What could he do?
He smiled. He knew exactly who to ask. Grabbing his phone, he punched in a number.
****
“What are you asking me for?” Gina shook her head, then pulled her red curls back into a ponytail and anchored it with a black hair tie. “I barely know Ainslie.”
Dave had talked her into inviting him to her house, while he picked her brain about his Ainslie problem. Originally, just Ian had lived in this house, so there were books and newspapers all over. The Library of Congress probably didn’t have as many books as Ian did. Now, many of the books were Gina’s, and she had lots of them too. Since she was a huge fan of romance novels, that made her a romance guru, as far as Dave was concerned.
Plus, Ian taught French and wrote poetry. He must have picked up a few romantic ideas along the way. Dave looked over at him as Ian stirred some sugar into some tea. “Don’t look at me, mate,” Ian warned Dave. “I have no clue as to what a single mother of three would consider romantic.”
Dave rubbed the spot in between his eyes. “I heard you swept Gina off her feet.”
Ian and Gina exchanged a look that practically singed some of those books on the walls.
“See, you two are experts.”
Gina sighed. “Okay. What does she like?”
He knew the answer to that question. “She was a big patron of the arts down in Charleston, so she likes that kind of thing. You know, artsy stuff.”
“That’s kind of a wide category. Want to narrow it down for me?” Gina sipped her tea.
“Well, I know she likes opera.” Dave scratched his temple. “Here’s the thing. Her ex-husband used to be richer than God. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to out do anything he did.”
“Her ex-husband is in jail. I don’t think she’s that much of a fan at this point, so don’t worry about him.” Gina pursed her lips. “The last thing you want to do is remind Ainslie of Bobby Lee Logan, wonder husband and dad.”
“So what do I do?”
“Sandy told me she just really wants to spend more time with her kids. Arrange a date that includes them.”
“That’s hardly romantic.” Ian pulled off his glasses and set them on the table next to him.
“The most romantic thing you ever did was put on a tee shirt that was too small and get conked in the head with a softball.” Gina shivered and blew Ian a kiss. “Best marriage proposal ever.”
Dave hoped he could get out of there without getting a cavity. “No way am I getting hit in the head. Next idea.”
“You’re awful bossy for someone who’s asking for a favor.” Gina checked out her manicure.
“It seems to me that you might start with doing something with her family. You know, movies, pizza.” Ian snapped his fingers. “McDonald’s. I once saw a single mother at McDonald’s once. They were having a great time.”
“Actually, the kids were terrors and spilled an entire cup of cola all over your lap.” Gina reminded him. “No one was having a good time.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ian scratched his temple. “You might want to forget the McDonald’s thing.”
Dave ignored them. He wasn’t taking Ainslie and her kids to McDonald’s. “I don’t want to give the kids the wrong idea. It’s not fair to insert myself into the family when the relationship might not go anywhere.”
“That’s a consideration. You might as well stop seeing her now.” Ian sighed. “Before anyone gets hurt.”
“I don’t want to stop seeing her,” he grumbled. “I think I might be falling in love with her.”
“Then the whole kids thing isn’t a problem. Besides, it’s too late. You’ve already inserted yourself into the family. So,” Gina continued, “doing something with her family would be the thing. Or something with the kids so that she can have some fun time alone.”
“It’s a date, like as in two grown ups going out for some grown up fun and recreation.”
“Or set up something where she doesn’t have to worry about the kids, so she can relax with you. You’ve got feelings for her, let her know and go from there.”
“She might not feel the same way about me that I feel about her.”
“That’s always a risk, isn’t it?” Ian piped up. “There’s a reason I got a concussion at a softball game.” He shot Dave an accusing look. “If I recall, that was your idea.”
“I was only trying to help you get back with Gina. I didn’t mean for you to get a concussion,” Dave mumbled.
“So why don’t you talk to Ainslie and see what she likes to do.” Gina nodded, looking pleased with her own advice. “See what she has to say.”
Ian sig
hed. “That phrase drives me mad. You can’t see what someone says. It’s as if the words are coming out of her mouth in a cartoon bubble.”
“Shush you.” Gina rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Pitch her a couple of ideas.”
Ian grinned. “More softball. Get it? Pitch? Softball?”
“Ha ha.” Gina turned back to Dave. “Let her decide.” She nodded. “That would be best.” She wrinkled her nose. “You know?”
“When I let you decide what was a good date, I ended up getting punched in the face, doused in beer and nearly arrested for a DUI,” Ian pointed out.
Gina waved a hand in dismissal. “You had fun. Admit it.”
Dave stood. “Thanks for the advice.”
“I’m going to the ballet fund raiser thingy for Ian on Tuesday afternoon, and Ainslie will be there. Want me to ask her?”
“No, I’ll figure it out, thanks anyway. You’ve been a big help.”
Ian also stood. “Anything to help the cause of true love. Speaking of which.” He looked at his watch and waggled his brows à la Groucho. “Isn’t it your bedtime? Don’t I hear your mother calling?” Ian put a hand up to his ear. “Time for you to go home so I can do something about my own love life.”
“Ian,” Gina laughed. “That’s rude.”
“No, I need to get going.” Really. As in fast.
Ian grabbed Dave’s jacket and handed it to him. “Let us know how it works out. Later.”
Somehow, Dave found himself on the other side of the front door. He heard a loud click as if a lock slid into place, then watched as the downstairs lights flicked out one by one.
Damn, he wanted a life like that, and it was just within his grasp. Ainslie was the one. As in, The. One. How could he help her realize that they would be amazing together?
He snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. He knew exactly the time and place.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ainslie’s stomach jumped as she pushed open the door to Esmeralda’s, where the committee gala meeting gathered. As she closed the door, she took a moment to catch her breath while she looked for the rest of the committee.
Esmeralda’s proved to be a lovely place, with peaceful New Age music, lots of plants and muted conversations. The walls were painted a soothing ecru, and the art on the wall, mostly scenes of nature rendered in calming pastel watercolors. Lots of potted ferns dotted the dining room windows.
Just like some of the places she loved to have lunch with her friends.
Bobby Lee would have hated it. Hummpf. One more reason to love it, as far as she was concerned.
She was glad for the time she’d taken to shower and change clothes after cleaning the Brewsters’ house. She actually felt like she fit in, wearing a pair of light wool, pearl-colored slacks and a shell pink wrap-around blouse. She’d done her make-up, moussed up her hair and spritzed on a little Nocturnes de Caron.
It all put a little spring in her step as she scanned the dining room. Although this was one lunch, it was a boon to her soul. She would savor every minute.
Andi was already there, along with Hope Monahan, Gina Ross and… Was that Pamela Nelson at that table? The women all talked at once and laughed like girlfriends who had known each other forever.
Ainslie so missed having girlfriends. One of the real tragedies of her current situation was the loss of her friends. They had dropped her once Bobby Lee had gone to jail. She didn’t blame them. Bobby Lee had stolen from just about everyone they knew. That was the main reason she’d relocated to New England.
This meeting would be an opportunity to meet people and do some things she loved to do. Ainslie fully intended to enjoy this meeting.
Hope noticed her first and greeted her with a big smile. “Ainslie! Good, you’re here, we can start.”
Ainslie trotted over to the table, her heels click-clacking all the way over the hardwood floor. The women all smiled at her when she slipped into the only empty place.
“Have you met my mother?” Andi asked.
“Yes.” Ainslie smiled. “We’ve met. A lifetime ago.”
Pamela smiled. “I remember. It’s so good to see you again.”
Pamela wore an elegant and stylish outfit. If Ainslie didn’t miss her guess, Pamela wore Betsey Johnson, an unconstructed pair of silk slacks and a silk floaty tunic in peacock tail colors. Her hair impeccably cut and styled, her make-up flawless, it was easy to see where Andi’s beauty and class came from.
Ainslie wanted to be Pamela Nelson when she grew up.
“Andi says you have a marvelous idea for the gala. I love the name and the concept.”
“Oh, I didn’t come up with it. Someone else did. It was a lot of work, but we made a fortune for the opera.”
“It’s a fantastic idea, this Mirror Mirror on the Wall Ball. The fairy tale theme is just genius,” Pamela gushed. “I can’t wait to get all the details.” She took a sip from her iced tea.
“Ian’s very excited about it.” Gina added.
Hope narrowed her eyes. “Not that I don’t love you and all that, but why are you here and not Ian?”
“An unexpected faculty meeting got called. So, I’m your girl.”
“I thought we wanted a man’s input.”
“The professor really doesn’t know anything about this kind of stuff. Besides, it’s mid-terms, and he has a slew of papers to grade.” Gina grabbed for her ginger ale.
Liberating a breadstick from the container in the middle of the table, Hope pointed it at Gina. “This might be a good thing. Guys hate costume parties. Ian would only try to talk us out of it.”
“He’s shy,” Gina said.
“I’m looking forward to tricking Mike into dressing like Prince Charming.” Andi smirked. “I know just how to do it.”
Gina snickered. “Mike is not Prince Charming. He’s more like the Frog Prince.”
Andi chuckled “Who are you going to get Dad to dress up as?” Andi arranged her silverware on the table in front of her, from shortest to longest.
“The Giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. He won’t know in advance, not until I tell him what he’s going to put on that night.” Pamela took another sip from her iced tea.
The waitress came by with water for Ainslie. “Are you ready to order?”
Ainslie hadn’t even looked at the menu. She didn’t feel like she could eat a bite, her system was already in overdrive. Listening to what the other women ordered, she decided to go with the French onion soup. Hope had ordered it, so it had to be good.
Pamela put a hand over Ainslie’s. “So, tell us what we have to do. I’m anxious to get going.”
Ainslie took a sip of water and cleared her throat. The girls watched her, faces lit by curiosity and anticipation. “So many operas and ballets are based on fairy tales and magic mirrors are part of that whole fantasy thing. So we commissioned artists to design mirrors, based on fairy tales, brought in some singers from the Charleston Opera to sing some arias, duets and such from the pieces.” She shrugged. “We auctioned the mirrors, paid the artists the commission, and pocketed the difference, which was considerable.”
Ainslie stopped to take another sip of water. “We made it as much of a fantasy as we could—a masquerade ball, dancing, the Opera Orchestra, amazing food. Tickets were pricey.” Ainslie pursed her lips together and nodded. “Very pricey.”
Pamela considered this. “Addington isn’t Charleston. We can’t price the tickets too high.” She pulled a notebook out of her purse.
“That’s right.” Gina scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad. “Barrett U. is one of our target audiences. None of them are getting rich on what they’re paid.”
“The biggest expense was the orchestra. You could pare that down or get musicians to donate their time.”
“We had a Jazz group last year,” Andi reflected. “They were very good.”
“Could we get them to donate their time?” Ainslie wondered. “We do need people to have money left over so they will bid on the mirrors.
”
Andi shrugged. “I can ask.”
“So let’s put you in charge of the music. That’s your area of expertise.” Pamela tapped a pen on her notebook.
The waitress returned with their lunch orders. Ainslie looked for a nametag so she could use her name when she thanked her. Since she’d become a waitress, Ainslie knew how nice it was when people didn’t treat her like an anonymous servant.
The waitress put a bowl of baby spinach, along with smaller bowls of cheese, croutons and dressing in front of Andi. “Thank you, Clarisse,” Andi said.
Clarisse set a grilled chicken Ceasar in front of Gina before delivering the Onion soup to Pamela, Hope and Ainslie. The melted gruyére smelled heavenly, all full of cheesy goodness.
Hope smiled as she shook out her napkin. “Thanks, Clarisse! It looks great!”
“Yes, thank you.” Ainslie smiled up at Clarisse.
“Bon Appétit!” Clarisse sounded a little like Julia Child.
Looking at her watch, Hope said, “I’ve got to get back to the restaurant to begin dinner prep in about a half an hour.” She swirled her spoon around in the molten cheese.
“Then let’s talk about the food.” Andi smiled at Hope. “We have to have the shrimp in puff pastry.”
“Dear Lord, I am really tired of making those.” Hope pulled a list out of her briefcase. “I put together a menu for you to look at.”
Pamela took it and frowned. “It doesn’t have the shrimp.”
“I’m trying something different. It’s a fairy tale inspired menu.” Hope said. “I’m actually thinking of getting rid of standard buffet tables and co-ordinate the food into the decorations, like these bird nests made out of deep fried shredded potatoes filled with sautéed shiitake mushrooms. We can tuck them into trees, like so.” She pulled out a picture. “Think of an Enchanted Forest. Baskets full of sweets, spinning wheels with gold wrapped confections. That kind of thing.” She waved a hand in the air. “It’s all there. I’ve made a copy for each of you.”
Pamela picked up her copy. “That’s going to take some planning.”
“Oh, dear Lord, these look amazing.” Ainslie had never seen such and innovative menu. “This certainly outdoes what we did in Charleston.” She looked at Hope. “I really love it.”
