“More like morning, noon, and night. Though I seem to get about an hour’s break a half hour before bedtime.”
“Ginger ale and crackers. Have ’em both on your nightstand and have both before your feet hit the ground in the morning.”
“Right. Thanks.”
As she turned to leave, my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my purse and glanced at it. The text was from Gordon. HEY, BABE. EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT? DIDN’T SEE A TEXT BACK FROM YOU LAST NIGHT. SEE YOU TOMORROW. G.
I stared at the text for long, tense seconds. I should tell him it was all good. But it wasn’t all good. I slid the phone back into my purse and left the doctor’s office wishing like hell the next twenty-four hours would pass fast.
* * *
Rachel, Jean Paul, and I spent the day clearing out the remainder of the wall. The next step was for Jean Paul to install the electrical work, and once done we could call the city inspector, get the all-clear, and then put it all back together.
By five I stopped working to take a hot shower. A grateful sigh escaped my lips as I stood under the hot spray while it washed away the sweat and grime clinging to my body. If only problems could wash away as easily as dirt, I’d be set.
As I toweled off, I glanced toward the desk in my room and caught sight of the recipe box. I’d all but forgotten about it. Crossing the room, I carefully thumbed through the cards. I glanced at the neatly written cards and for a moment was tempted to sit and look at each one. But I had barely ten minutes to dress before Rachel and I met Margaret.
Rachel and I arrived at O’Malley’s after six.
I wanted a stiff drink but knew I’d be settling for soda. My phone buzzed again and I glanced at it. Gordon. Another text. DAISY. CALL. Shorter and more terse. He was officially annoyed. I could have brushed off yesterday with the excuse of the demo, but today I had officially crossed over into rude.
“Why don’t you call him?” Rachel and I walked along Union Street. The gentle breeze wafting off the Potomac warmed my skin. Smiling tourists filled the paths.
“I’ll catch up with him later.”
“Is he having fun on his big bike ride?”
“Gordon loves his bikes. He should have taken up this career after college.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Too smart. His parents did not want to see an Ivy League education go to waste. And he is very good with numbers.” I’d not known him back in college. In fact, I’d not known his story until weeks ago when he’d told me. We’d both dropped the walls. And now I was putting one back up.
“You don’t talk much about the time you two were engaged.”
“Both of us weren’t ready to be a couple. The sex was great. So great. And for a time, it was enough. But I feared we were building a life on shaky ground.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, a question burning in her gaze. She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “So is the sex as good as it used to be?”
My mature assessment of my relationship buzzed right over her head. She’d been blinded by the mention of sex. “Rachel. I’m shocked. Since when did you ask questions like that?”
She shrugged, still chewing on her lip. “I might as well live vicariously through you. One of the McCrae sisters has to be getting it.”
Laughter rumbled in my chest. “You never talk about sex.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve changed. Death, kids, and a bakery will do that.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Motherhood changes you. We moms still like sex but other things get in the way. My heart is now controlled by two little girls in bathing suits at the beach with parents who haven’t had young kids underfoot in thirty years.”
I reached for the brass door of O’Malley’s. “You worried about Mom and Dad taking care of the girls?”
Music and laughter washed out from the bar. “I worry about everything. It’s my specialty.”
“Have you called Mom?”
“Twice. She forgot to turn her phone on again.”
“You know Mom loves her landlines. She’ll call once they’re settled.”
“I know.”
Deeper inside the bar, music mingled with the buzz of conversation and the smell of beer on tap. For a Sunday night the place hummed with activity. The bar served a light dinner, and weeks ago I’d called on the owner to see if they’d like to order rolls for their dinner service. I’d gotten a big maybe. Would be real nice to have more restaurant orders to supplement the grocery store order.
I scanned the crowd for Margaret and spotted her in a corner booth. She saw me, raised her hands, and we wove our way toward her.
Rachel slid into the booth next to Margaret, and I sat on the other side. As we settled, a waitress appeared with three beers and set them on our table.
“I went ahead and ordered,” Margaret said. “Figured you could use a cold one after your day.”
A grateful Rachel picked up her cold glass and took a long, liberal sip. She closed her eyes as she drank.
Margaret looked at me, amusement dancing in her gaze. “Little sis, you looking to tie one on.”
Rachel nodded. “Yes. It’s been years since I had a full beer without worrying about the girls. I figure I’ve a day or two maximum before the girls break Mom and Dad, and they all come rushing home. I need to make hay while the sun shines.”
Margaret chuckled as she raised her glass. “Well, drinks are on me, babe, so as long as you can slam ’em down I’ll buy ’em.”
I raised my glass. “A toast to Margaret. Super history sleuth who loves to dig in the dirt and play with old bones.”
Margaret nodded. “Amen.”
Rachel swiped the back of her hand over her mouth as if she were a sailor fresh in port. “I hope you have lots of fun digging in the dirt.”
As I pretended to sip, Margaret took a long drink. “I am going to make a huge discovery. I can feel it in my bones. I am going to be an archeological rock star.”
Grinning, I couldn’t help but enjoy her enthusiasm. “And we will say we knew you when.”
Rachel finished her beer.
As I swapped out my beer for her empty glass, the bandage from this morning’s blood sample rubbed against my skin under my shirt. “Still a bit of that bug. Take mine, and I’ll get a soda.”
“Must be serious,” Margaret said. “You never get sick.”
I caught the waitress’s attention and ordered a soda. “Bound to happen with all the customers we deal with. I’ll be fine in a day or two.” Eighteen years at the outside.
“So you demoed the wall today?”
“We did. Monday is wiring and new studs.”
Rachel smiled. “To studs.”
Margaret burst out laughing.
“Our little girl is growing up,” I said. “She’s been asking about S-E-X.”
“Really?”
Rachel shrugged as she finished another half beer. “It’s been a long, long dry spell. I mean you try being married to a guy who’s stressing about a business while you are chasing twin girls. Not much been going on in Rachel’s love life for a very, very long time.”
“There’s time for love,” I said.
“Yeah, like when? I will be thirty-five in two months. I’ve slept with exactly one guy in my life.” She held up her index finger as if we needed visual aids. “I want to know what it feels like to have a man touch me again before I die.”
Margaret sat back in her booth. “Okay, I take back what I said about buying you all the beer you want. I figured I was in for one, maybe two beers, but I can see you could drink me out of my life savings tonight.”
The waitress delivered my soda and I took a long sip. My stomach lurched but didn’t buck. I’d arrived at the sweet spot in the evening when I wasn’t exhausted or sick. Most nights I turned in by nine but tonight, with no store to open tomorrow, I could actually enjoy an ad
ult bedtime.
“Did you two go over the recipe box?” Margaret asked.
“Honestly, demolishing the wall didn’t give us any time.”
“I wish I had a little time to go through it,” Margaret said. “Like a mini–time capsule.”
I glanced around the bar, hoping to spot the waitress who could bring me bread to soothe my stomach. As I did, I spotted Simon Davenport by the bar. Dressed in jeans, a V-neck sweater, and expensive loafers, he appeared to be alone.
“Rachel,” I said. “Don’t look now but Simon is at the bar.”
“Who?”
“Simon Davenport. Remember, he’s the dude who hates sweets but who has placed five big orders in the last couple of months. The dude who must have a little crush on you.”
Rachel moistened her lips. Beer had left her cheeks flushed. “Do you really think he likes me?”
Margaret glanced in his direction, studying him as if he were an artifact found at a dig. “Totally.”
Alone we were articulate woman in our thirties. Together we reverted to middle school and might as well have been standing by the hall lockers with our arms full of textbooks as we ogled the football quarterback.
“You should go over and talk to him,” Margaret said.
“Yeah,” I prodded. “I mean you do want another beer, and it would be so much easier to get it from the bar.”
Rachel nodded. “I could get a beer from the bar.”
Margaret handed her a ten-dollar bill. “Go get a beer and say hi to the nice man.”
Rachel ran her fingers through her blond hair. “Do you really think he likes me?”
“Yes.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “How can you tell?”
“Rachel, go,” I said. “Worst-case scenario you get a beer, say hi, and come back here.”
She nibbled her lip. “That’s not such a bad scenario.”
“No, it is not.”
Rachel rose, swayed a little, and walked stiffly toward the bar.
“She’s not had a date since high school,” Margaret said.
“I know. But she might as well practice, or she’ll spend the rest of her life in the bakery.”
Rachel stood at the bar, her ten-dollar bill clutched in her hand. Simon leaned a fraction closer as he spoke to her. To Rachel’s credit she looked up at him with what looked like genuine surprise.
“Our little girl is a player,” I said.
“I’m so proud.” Margaret leaned forward, staring with open interest as Simon, head slightly tilted, spoke to Rachel. She tucked her hair behind her ear, rested her hand on her hip, and then slid it in her pocket as if she didn’t know what to do with it. She was a fluttering butterfly whereas he stood tall and strong like a hundred-year-old oak. Rachel needed a guy who could be fun and make her laugh. Simon’s fun-meter didn’t look like it registered high. But he was nice, and this wasn’t a marriage or a date. It was a little practice flirtation.
Rachel took her beer from the bartender and gave him the ten. He put five back on the bar as change but she didn’t seem to notice.
“She’s not brothering to pick up the change.” Margaret slid to the edge of the seat as if to rise. “I should get five bucks back.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Five bucks is a lot of money.” But Margaret halted, clutching the edge of the booth as if ready to sprint to get her five.
Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear and laughed. He leaned a little closer to her. It looked good. Real good.
And then a tall brunette approached Simon and slid her arm in his. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t blink. The woman was tall, slim, and wore a short silk dress skimming tanned, very well-toned thighs. Tall metallic high heels matched gold bracelets and hoop earrings.
Rachel’s smile froze on her face. She raised her beer to her lips but didn’t take a sip.
“Shit. A She Devil has staked her claim,” I said.
Simon at least had the decency to stand a little straighter. He looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t leave her hanging. Cover me. I’m going in.”
“What do you mean?”
She pushed to her feet and crossed toward Rachel, Simon, and the She Devil.
“Well, hey,” Margaret said as she moved to the bar beside Rachel and picked up her five. “Never seen you here before.”
Groaning, I slid out of the booth and came up behind Margaret in time to catch Rachel’s shocked expression. “Hi, Mr. Davenport.”
“Simon. Please call me Simon.”
“Right. Sure.” I looked at She Devil. “Hi, I’m Daisy McCrae. My sisters Margaret and Rachel.”
She Devil’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. She’d sunk her talons into Simon, and she was not going to let go. “Elizabeth Wentworth. Nice to meet you. But I know Rachel. We cheered together in high school.”
Rachel’s smile turned brittle as she smoothed her hands over worn jeans and surveyed Elizabeth’s watered-silk dress. “Elizabeth. You look great.”
Rachel and I were the same year as Elizabeth in school but I hung with the drama kids and the nerds. Rachel and Elizabeth were strictly with cheerleaders and football players.
I’d never formally met Elizabeth but had heard stories. Passive-aggressive. Lots of lip gloss and hair spray. Dated the backup quarterback. “And you look, well, like you’ve been working hard.”
Simon’s gaze sparked with interest. “You two went to high school together?” he asked.
Elizabeth laughed. “Hard to believe, right? Rachel, you still work in your parents’ bakery? Gosh, she used to make the cutest cupcakes for the team. Of course, we were all on diets and couldn’t eat a bite.”
“Rachel and I both own the bakery now,” I said.
“They’ve done some catering for my company,” Simon offered.
Rachel drew in a breath. I kept waiting for the perky smile guaranteed to make everyone feel as if it would be okay. Her lips flickered at the edges but the hundred-watt smile would not fire.
“So what brings you all here tonight?” Elizabeth said as she glanced beyond us to see who else was here.
“My sisters are giving me a going-away party,” Margaret said. “I’ve a job working on an archeological dig.
Elizabeth looked bored. “Awesome.”
Simon to his credit raised a brow. “Where?”
“St. Mary’s Church up in Maryland. On the bay. Leaving tomorrow.” Her grin broadened. “Old bones rock my world.”
“Sounds like a great challenge,” Simon said.
“I’m working for Simon’s company,” Elizabeth offered. She smoothed a manicured hand over perfect hair. “Vice president of sales. So far breaking all quotas.”
“Super.” Margaret glanced at Rachel. We’d made fun of Elizabeth when we were in high school. If one of us were having a petulant moment, we were pulling an Elizabeth.
Rachel seemed to have forgotten. Whatever had fired when she’d first spoken to Simon was extinguished, and now she had a hurtpuppy vibe.
As I scrambled for reasons to drag Rachel away, Margaret turned and wobbled, and her beer sloshed wildly in her hands. The beer splashed up all over her, Simon, and She Devil.
She Devil arched back as if she’d been splashed with acid, but Simon remained calm. He reached for a napkin, She Devil squawked, and Margaret apologized.
“I can be such a klutz,” Margaret said. “Gosh, I’m sorry.”
Gosh, I’m sorry. Margaret hadn’t said gosh or sorry in a sentence . . . well, ever. She’d basically told Rachel and I in secret sister code, I wish I’d drenched She Devil.
“Hey, good seeing you two.” I hooked my arms into Rachel’s and Margaret’s. Another minute and Margaret would douse Elizabeth, and I might be tempted to help. I p
ulled my sisters toward our table and we sat. Margaret and Rachel drank heavily, and I was grateful my stomach was settled.
“What’s it like to be Elizabeth’s kind of successful?” Rachel said to me. “When you were in D.C. you had her kind of vibe.”
“It was great. To know you were in a groove. Yeah, great.”
“And life sucks for you now?” Rachel said.
“Not exactly sucks. It’s different.”
Margaret studied me. “Would you go back if you could?”
In a heartbeat. “I don’t know.”
Margaret’s gaze narrowed. “Of course you know. You aren’t saying.”
“I’d go back in a snap,” Rachel said. “I wasn’t Elizabeth, but I was in a great place. Hard work and crazy hours, but I really did love my life when Mike was alive.”
Margaret sipped her beer. “I’ve lots of education and dozens of part-time jobs to look back on, but there’s no great accomplishment. I’m thirty-six and can finally hold my head up when someone asks me what I do for a living.”
I understood. I held my head high, but it was a lot of bravado these days. “I’m glad you have the job in St. Mary’s. It was made for you.”
“Enjoy it,” Rachel said. “Savor every moment.”
Margaret frowned. “You make it sound like it’s not going to last.”
I wished I could have said otherwise but having a company shot out from under me had changed my worldview. “I hope it lasts forever.”
Margaret held up her half-full beer mug. “A statement loaded with enthusiasm.”
Rachel shook her head. “The fact is, Margaret, it doesn’t matter how hard you love your work, sometimes life dumps on you. You can fight, scream, scrap, or beg, but life doesn’t give a shit and it takes what it wants.”
Jobs came and went and some really were terrific . . . really terrific, but losing family was a game changer.
Adding family also changed the game. What had Mom always said in high school? For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t get pregnant. Damn.
“I don’t want you to leave. Crap, Margaret, we were getting into a groove,” Rachel mumbled. “I know you have to go, but I’m not going to like it.”
Sweet Expectations (A Union Street Bakery Novel) Page 6
