A Family Affair: Fall

by Mary Campisi

  And now, because he’d waited too long to book a caterer, Nate and Cash Casherdon had been drafted to grill the chicken, sausage with peppers and onions, and hot dogs. Christine and Tess Carrick had picked up the sides from Sal’s, and Miriam, a.k.a. “Wonder Woman,” made whatever else she deemed necessary for the gathering, which included but was not limited to cake, chocolate chip cookies, and a fruit salad. Nate promised his double fudge brownies, and Pop Benito planned to bring what he brought to every gathering: pizzelles.

  “Harry? Relax.” Greta smiled up at him from the lounge chair on the deck where she reclined in a flowing, pink and white dress. “It’s family and friends.”

  “Yeah, and it’s family and friends who are never going to let me forget I didn’t order beer or wine.” The fact that he’d actually forgotten the alcohol was a sign of his supreme domestication, according to Nate. Of course, the damn guy couldn’t wait to tell Chrissie who told Miriam and he’d lay Vegas odds 500 to 1 that Lily overheard. The next thing Harry knew, Pop Benito had spread it all over town before dinnertime. Even Phyllis at Lina’s commented on it this morning when he stopped in for his eggs and pancakes. Harry tried for a “save” by saying he’d been working on bringing in imported beer and wine as a surprise and, of course, he had to go to the city, because, hell, this town had never heard of some of the brands he planned to bring in. Phyllis let him go on for a solid two minutes before she’d nodded and said in the same matter-of-fact voice she used when one of the young waitresses mixed up the orders: “You forgot to order them, didn’t you?” What could he say but admit the truth? Seemed like people in this town could see through bullshit a lot quicker than the ones in Chicago, an unsettling yet comforting thought.

  “Why don’t you let me help you? The doctor said I had to take it easy, not stop living.” Greta sighed. “And I’m very good at organizing and making lists.” She slid him a look, said, “I could make you a list or two.” Pause. “If you like.”

  “Damn it, Greta, is this about AJ’s school list? How the hell was I to know the difference between a two-pronged folder and a plain one? What difference does it make? They really give kids extra credit for bringing in the right folder? That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s about following rules and making the classroom work.”

  “Right. It’s about control and turning the kids into robots who can’t think unless someone else spits it out or pastes it in their brain. Are you saying the presentation is more important than the content?” It shouldn’t surprise him if that were the case. Hadn’t he been “presenting” himself to the world for years in his fancy duds and designer lifestyle without a care to the “content” of his life? And hadn’t most people simply accepted that from him, especially the ones grappling for his credit card and his lifestyle? Still, this was the educational system they were talking about; it affected his kids and all the kids out there. It should be about more than a two-pronged folder.

  “Of course I’m not saying that, but if the presentation isn’t recognizable, or if it’s too difficult to understand, it doesn’t matter what the content is because no one will take the time to look at it.”

  Hmm. She might have a point, but only a minor one. He’d seen a lot of bullshit wrapped up in shiny packaging.

  “If you’re that concerned with the educational system of our children, why don’t you get involved at school? You could volunteer.”

  “Huh?” Volunteer for what?

  Greta smiled the way she did when she knew she’d trapped him with his own words. “Volunteer at school. Lizzie’s class has Parent Read a Book Day and Parents and Professions Day. I’ll bet the kids would love to hear you speak.” Her smile spread. “You could even talk to them about What to Wear to Work Day. I’m sure Ms. Hanson would appreciate a lesson on combining patterns with a stripe.”

  He scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Very funny.”

  “I’m serious, Harry. You’re a very persuasive speaker.” Her voice dipped, gentled. “You do have a way with words.”

  He liked when she talked to him that way, and when those big blue eyes gazed at him as if he were the only man walking the earth, how could he wish for anything more? “Volunteering,” he murmured. Lizzie loved his stories, made him repeat them two and three times until she giggled so hard, tears sprouted in those baby blues. But he was not about to spread those in the school district. Dumping a riding lawnmower when making a turn because he drove it like a sports car? Uh, that would be a no. Installing a towel bar with a cordless screwdriver that had no screwdriver bit in it. Nope. Three attempts to grill a cheese sandwich that sounded the smoke alarm and ruined the pan? Don’t think so.

  “What would you tell them about, Harry?”

  “I could tell them about Harry’s Folly, the restaurant that grew out of a desire to get a good bowl of penne pasta with spinach and garbanzo beans.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I like that.”

  Harry liked the idea, too. Damn, but he missed the restaurant. Greta made him penne with spinach and garbanzos, but it wasn’t the same as having a place where customers could come and share a meal and a glass of wine. Maybe someday he and Greta could start another restaurant, right here in Magdalena. Maybe…the possibility burst through him so fast he had to sit down.

  “Harry?” Greta leaned forward, touched his hand. “Are you all right? Your face is flushed and you’re breathing hard. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, I’m fine. Actually, I’m great.” He clasped his wife’s hand and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to volunteer in Lizzie’s class. I’ll tell them all about second chances and how I got about fifteen of them.” He squeezed Greta’s hand and laughed. “That’ll make them wonder. And then I’ll tell them about the new restaurant coming to town.” He paused, grinned, and let the words fall out. “Harry’s Folly.”

  “Harry, what are you talking about?”

  His grin almost split open his face. “I miss it, Greta. Me, you, us; we were good at it, weren’t we?”

  Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Yes, Harry,” she whispered. “We were very good.” And then, “I miss it, too.”

  Chapter 12

  Tuesday nights were half-price margarita and fajita nights, but that’s not what brought Gina, Tess, and Christine to their favorite Mexican restaurant because Gina didn’t eat fajitas and Christine was sticking to ice water tonight. The latter proved an interesting observation that might have nothing or everything to do with her menstrual cycle. Tess, however, had ordered a margarita and a fajita, double chicken.

  “So, did you hear about Brody tracking down Ben Reed the other day?” Tess asked, piling guacamole inside her fajita.

  “What?” Gina had a tortilla chip with salsa halfway to her mouth. “What happened?” And why hadn’t Ben told her? It wasn’t as if they’d actually spoken since the morning after the night she couldn’t forget, but still she thought he might have told her. Or maybe not. She’d behaved poorly and by the time she’d analyzed what she’d done and why, it was too late. Ben was gone, and it didn’t look like he was coming back. Her stomach burned in ways that had nothing to do with spicy salsa or the margarita.

  “Nate said he heard something about it.” This from Christine who slid Gina a look before continuing, “If Brody doesn’t settle down soon, he could risk losing everything.”

  “Cash is about ready to pay him a visit.” Tess bit into her fajita, chewed. “Not a good sign.”

  Why had Christine given her that look? Had Lily said something about smelling a man in Gina’s house?

  “I heard Brody took her pills,” Tess said. “Ranting on and on about how no wife of his is going to take a pill.”

  Gina blew out a disgusted sigh. “Oh, I’m sure Testosterone Brody would take that as a personal sign that he wasn’t keeping his woman happy.”

  They laughed at that, but then Tess said, “It’s really tragic how they seem to be imploding. Can’t somebody stop it?”

  “Not until they both a
dmit there’s a problem.” This from Christine. “Bree’s got to grieve her baby, and Brody’s got to admit the way to do that isn’t to just have another one.”

  “She’s too intelligent for him,” Gina blurted out, then wished she could yank the words back. “I’m sorry; I know that’s horrible to say, but it’s the truth. Brody has a brain the size of a lentil, yet he insists on making the decisions in that household, down to the number of children they have and when.” She should stop, but the words kept spilling out. “Like he’s the one who has to carry the baby in his belly, or gain the weight, or suffer the heartburn, or all the rest that goes with it. And darn it, but Bree always let him do it; she thought it was cute that he loved his Honeybee so much he wanted to manage every part of her life.”

  Tess nodded. “I know. Sad. Remember when she wanted to get her degree?”

  “And Brody got her pregnant instead?” Gina scowled and scooped a hunk of salsa on her chip. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Uhh…ladies, change the conversation fast,” Christine said, then smiled and waved at someone. “Hi, how are you? Care to join us?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  Gina had just stuffed a chip in her mouth when she recognized Ben Reed’s voice. She glanced up as his smile circled the table, flattening a half second when it touched her before it corrected and continued.

  “Sit down,” Tess said, motioning to the empty spot next to Gina. “There’s lots of room.”

  Ben slid into the booth, his scent smothering Gina with remembering. “Thanks.”

  There was a stiffness in his words, barely noticeable, but Gina heard it. When had she become an expert on Ben Reed’s voice? He placed his hands on his thighs, within touching distance, and said, “Half-price margaritas and fajitas, huh?”

  “And I’m the only one taking advantage of both,” Tess said, scooping another tortilla chip with salsa. “How about you, Ben? Are you a margarita drinker?”

  He laughed. “Can’t say as I am. I prefer a Mexican beer myself.”

  The chatter went on, mindless, surface talk about beer and fajitas, homemade salsa, and when the first frost might hit. Gina sipped her margarita and provided an occasional word when solicited, but mostly she tried to blend in and act as though Ben Reed’s presence didn’t steal her breath and her senses.

  When the talk slowed, Tess cleared her throat, pushed her almost-empty plate aside, and said, “We heard Brody Kinkaid threatened you the other day.”

  Ben took so long to respond that Gina thought he might not answer. But then he shrugged and said, “He and I have different viewpoints on how to treat a woman, especially a wife who’s lost a baby.”

  Tess nodded, her eyes bright, her smile fragile. Gina bet she was thinking about the baby she and Cash lost and the ones they might never have. So tragic, and yet they were determined to get through the sadness by opening their hearts and their home to those in need. There was Henry, the rescue dog who thought he was their baby, and the camp they ran for youths in trouble, and maybe down the road, they’d adopt or foster. Cash had been raised by an aunt after his nomadic parents took off because “a child was too restrictive.” Gina knew all about parents who thought of their children as nuisances. And with a father he never knew and a mother who took off, she’d bet Ben knew all about it, too. She settled her gaze on his hands: strong, tanned, so very capable.

  “…anyway, I’d better get going. Morning gets here way too fast.” He pulled out his wallet, laid three twenty-dollar bills on the table, and said, “My treat.”

  He waved and slid out of the booth before they finished thanking him. Gina watched him leave, his lean body reaching the door seconds before she realized she had to go after him. “I’ve got to talk to Ben.” She scooted out of the booth and rushed past the hanging piñatas and potted palm trees to the large wooden doors. Gina pushed them open and stepped outside. “Ben! Wait!”

  He was several steps away, heading toward his car, but he stopped and turned, his jaw set, his expression unreadable. “What do you want, Gina?”

  Correction. His expression wasn’t unreadable; in fact, it was downright angry. “I…wanted to talk to you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, waited. The man was not going to make this easy for her. “Thanks for helping Bree.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t like to see people get bullied, especially women.”

  “Still, it was very kind and you didn’t have to do it.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “You mean because I’m a stranger and don’t really fit in here, right?”

  “No, of course not.” Though that was exactly what she’d meant.

  “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t do it for brownie points or any other reason.” He paused, added, “I did it to help Bree.”

  “Right.” He meant he didn’t do it for her. “Well.” She fiddled with the tassels on her purse, tried to push past the awkwardness. I’m sorry I kicked you out of my house the other night and acted like I didn’t want you to be there, like I was ashamed to be with you. I’m not ashamed…in fact…

  “I’ve got to go. Good-bye, Gina.” And then he was gone, leaving her with a heart filled with apologies and regret.

  ***

  Gina had never been one to take risks, not without analyzing the data and calculating the chance of a successful outcome based on statistics and past experience. Since the latter provided a relatively small sample, she usually decided against any risk, claiming she didn’t like surprises. As she grew older, the chance for surprises dwindled, until her life settled into what many considered mundane, practical, and safe. Gina knew what people thought, knew what they said, but it didn’t bother her because she’d erected a wall so strong and impenetrable, not even the cruelest comment could harm her.

  And then she met Ben Reed. He’d found a way to barrel through her defenses and make her wish she weren’t so mundane and practical. He’d made her wish she hadn’t played it so safe, which was why she now stood outside the door to his room at the Heart Sent. She wanted to knock, wanted to tell him there’d been so many feelings surging through her the night they made love that she couldn’t process them all and did what she always did in situations that scared her: she pushed him away. He might tell her it was too late, or that he wasn’t interested, or that she was too much trouble with too much baggage. But he might not, and it was that small percentage she hoped for as she curled her hand into a fist and knocked on his door.

  “Mimi?”

  She sucked in a breath, blew it out. “It’s Gina.”

  The door flew open and he stood there, looking fierce and untouchable, his chest bare, his jeans riding low on his hips.

  “Ben, I…” The small percentage of hope in her heart shrank by half. Still, if this was her last opportunity with him, she might as well blurt it out. If it exploded in her face, she’d just avoid him for the rest of her life. “Is this a bad time?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, which probably meant “Any time with you is a bad time,” and said, “Did you park your car three streets away so nobody knows you’re here?”

  The man was not going to let her forget that comment. “No, I’m right out front.”

  “Ah. Feeling brave, are we?”

  “Will you stop? I came to apologize for what I said that night.” She paused. “And how I acted. I’m sorry.”

  He rubbed his jaw and said, “As I recall, you didn’t say much that night.” His voice dipped, turned rough. “What you did that night, well. That was perfect, until morning came. That’s when it all went to hell and you turned into a viper.”

  “A viper?” Charming.

  He shrugged. “Or a jalapeño pepper, take your choice.”

  What on earth to say to that? She licked her lips, caught him watching her with those blue eyes. “I really am sorry, Ben. I…I was scared, but that’s no excuse.” Okay, she was done, now it was time to get out of here. She closed the distance between them and thrust out her hand.

  He stared at her outstretched ha
nd. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Actually—”

  He pulled her to him, devouring her mouth with passion and need. Oh, but he tasted wonderful, and the feel of his hard body pressed against hers was pure bliss. She would wish for this to go on and on…Seconds later, he broke the kiss, and said in a rough voice, “No man makes love to a woman and then resorts to hand-shaking.”

  Gina stared at his lips. “I’ll remember that,” she whispered.

  Ben eased the door closed, backed her against it, and clasped her face between his hands. “If you’re not staying until morning, then leave now.”

  She grabbed his shoulders, tried to bring him closer. “I’ll stay.”

  The talking stalled after that as they touched and tasted, moans of pleasure swirling between them. Ben undressed her, one delicious touch at a time, and when her clothes lay in a heap at her feet, he stepped back and said, “You’re beautiful.”

  Beautiful? No, she’d never been that. “Please don’t say that.”

  “Because it’s true?” He cupped her right breast, planted a kiss on her nipple. “When I look at you, I see a beautiful woman, all curves and softness. And when I taste you—” he licked the peak of her nipple “—that’s pure honey.”

  His words smothered her and when he used that tongue, she absolutely could not think. Did he not see the extra belly flesh or the thick waist? And her butt? There was more than a handful there, no doubt about that. But he really didn’t seem to care. That thought along with what he was doing with his tongue made her bold, made her want to show him how much she enjoyed his beautiful body. She unzipped his jeans, dipped her fingers inside his boxers, and cupped his sex.