by Barbara Lohr
Dipping her finger into the lemonade, her grandmother slowly nudged an ice cube. “You’d be surprised. It’s amazing how many men come out here in their retirement years.”
“Do they? Probably the ranch type, right? Like Brody.”
“Oh, some are very cultivated. Cultured.” There was that blissful expression again.
Heck with it, she was diving right in. “Anyone in particular?”
Her grandmother’s lips tilted into a shockingly naughty smile. A smile Carolyn had never seen before. When she tried to phrase another question, nothing came out of her mouth.
Mama V twirled a wisp of her new, sassy hair-do. “Well, I’ve met a man I kind of like. Howard. Howard Haynes.” The name was released with reverence. Carolyn looked at her grandmother in disbelief. She just hadn’t seen this coming.
“Sweetheart, I’d like you to meet him,” Mama V offered.
“And I’d like to meet him too. Maybe lunch someday while I’m here.” Her one-week vacation was beginning to feel crowded.
“How about dinner tonight? Howard offered to take us to Geronimo’s.”
Geronimo’s. Probably the most expensive restaurant in Santa Fe. A place where you had to make reservations in advance. “So it’s that serious?”
Her grandmother burst into laughter. “Don’t be silly. Howard’s a widower with a jewelry shop a little way down the hill. You probably passed it.”
“Sounds nice.” She wasn’t about to pee in her grandmother’s pool, as her friend Phoebe would say. But dinner tonight? Right now, she felt like curling up on the sofa for some girl talk. Maybe take a book to bed early. That’s what the two of them used to do when she visited. But Mama V looked downright dithery with excitement. Carolyn couldn’t say no.
And she wanted to meet this man who kept personal items at her grandmother’s. After all, wasn’t that her family duty? “Sure, whatever you say.”
“Terrific.” Her grandmother patted her hand. “Now, about taking that nap? I’ve got some work to do down at the gallery.”
Nodding, Carolyn gulped. “Okay.” She’d been dismissed. A million questions chattered in her head, but she’d been handed off to nap.
Retreating to the guest room, she longed for the uncomplicated past with her stately white-haired grandfather. Now she had to deal with this. First Brody and now Howard what’s-his-name. Ripping the rubber band from her unkempt braid, she sank onto the queen size bed and sniffed. Nope, no smell of lavender linen. Opening a window, she inhaled the clear scent of the desert with a hint of wisteria. The gnarly vines outside the window must be coming into bloom. Maybe everything would be all right. Sinking onto the bed, she pulled up the comforter, closed her eyes and tried to block out what she’d found in the bathroom.
Some time later, she shook herself from a dream that left her sweaty.
Brody. The dream had been about him. His Hotness. Sitting bolt upright, she fought the urge to touch her body in the places he’d explored in that dream. What was this? She pulled her knees up into her chest. The dream felt disturbing but in a wildly exciting way. Releasing her knees, she fell back onto the bed.
But it had just been a dream. When her heart rate returned to normal, she slipped on her flip-flops and ventured out to the small back yard and sat down. The iron bench was warm on her back, and the sun filtered through the aspen trees above, just greening up. Everything looked the same, but it wasn’t.
Feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, she wondered if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole into an alternate reality. She’d never liked that story. Little Red Riding Hood was a lot more predictable.
This trip wasn’t going according to plan.
Chapter 3
Howard Haynes sure talked a lot. Carolyn’s head pounded as she faced her grandmother and Howard across the crisp white tablecloth at Geronimo’s. The way Mama V gazed at this guy made Carolyn look away. He sure didn’t measure up to her grandfather. And his son Alan? He wasn’t “tripping her trigger,” as her friend Phoebe would say. To be fair, a lot of women would find him attractive in his navy blazer and subdued ways. When she’d realized there would be four of them tonight, Carolyn didn’t want to hurt her grandmother’s feelings. “Sure. That sounds nice.”
But it wasn’t nice at all. She hadn’t come here to be fixed up.
The past five years had been hard for Mama V. After her husband’s death, she wasn’t the same. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. This move to Santa Fe and a new artistic life had been a total surprise, one her mother had questioned. Mama V shut her down with a simple, “Well now it’s my life, sweetheart, isn’t it?”
Watching Mama V and Howard exchange secretive glances, Carolyn felt change rumbling her way. Again. This wasn’t the same grandmother she’d rushed to help in late December. Carolyn squirmed in the straight-backed chair. The dinner stretched in front of her, a slow progression of courses and conversation. She almost did a face plant in the plate of fancy butters.
But maybe it was worth it to see Mama V’s faded blue eyes sparkle in the low light. Her joy had returned. Still, Carolyn felt wary. Howard had been droning on about what to look for in a luxury car for at least ten minutes. Sure, she’d love a car that parked itself. Maybe she’d put that on her next Christmas list. Right up there with a trip around the world. Even Alan was beginning to look bored, his complacent smile fraying at the corners.
“What looks good to you, Carolyn?” her grandmother asked, studying the menu.
“Order anything you like.” Howard knew a lot was riding on this visit.
Mama V tapped one finger to her raspberry lips. “That salmon sure looks good.”
Salmon had always been her favorite. Howard turned. “Now, now Vera. You know what we talked about.”
“Oh, you’re right.” Mama V closed the menu with a sigh. “The tenderloin it is.”
In the past, Carolyn and Mama V had bonded over grilled salmon. Clearly, that had changed. Carolyn’s grip tightened on the menu.
Mama V leaned toward her. “Howard is teaching me to appreciate beef. You know, to avoid frailty. Lean beef.”
“Frailty?” She snorted. Her grandmother was a long way from frail, although she’d had that fall from a step stool.
Giggling, her grandmother squinched up her shoulders. “I’ve decided to live dangerously with very lean meats to give me muscle mass.” Holding out an arm, she formed a muscle.
“That’s my girl.” Howard and Mama V exchanged a syrupy look that made Carolyn gag.
Alan caught Carolyn’s eyes and smiled. What did he think of all this?
“I’ll have the salmon.” She set the menu aside. Awake since four that morning, she was fading fast. It might be eight o’clock here but her body was calling it ten. Anxious to get this show on the road, she plucked at the ruffle on her pink blouse. Both the blouse and the khaki skirt could have used pressing but she didn’t have time.
“How about you, son?” Howard asked.
Alan set the menu aside. “Strip steak for me. Baked potato. Green beans.” Yep, nothing out of the ordinary there. Alan seemed like a solid guy. Thinning hair, a little paunch and shoulders beginning to slump. Nice looking, in a quiet kind of way. Maybe early forties. Probably the age she should be considering for herself.
That is, if images of Brody didn’t keep popping up. She kept seeing him stride through the parking garage while the 007 theme played in her mind.
But back to Alan. Were her grandmother and Howard playing cupid? Carolyn took a sip of her chardonnay. Any man his age probably had at least one divorce and some children tucked away in his past, a back story waiting to be revealed.
Her vision blurred and she blinked. That year her Christmas cards had arrived with photos of children. Almost all the girls she knew at St Mary’s were safely married. Sure, she’d dated Jeff Cunningham at Notre Dame. But when he mentioned marriage their senior year, she’d wanted to wait. After he went on to Harvard law school, the relationship had cooled. He’d met Allison. Somet
imes she wondered. Why had she held back? Jeff was such a nice guy. Now all she met were men like Alan, a little worn around the edges.
And then there was Brody. Her heart kicked up. She sucked in a deep breath.
Howard continued to study the menu. “Appetizers, anyone ? Lobster bisque. Doesn’t that sound good?”
Why not? Wasn’t this a vacation? She glanced at the menu again. “Cauliflower bisque for me.”
Her grandmother ordered the same as Howard. In an eerie way, they were acting like a couple. Why hadn’t Carolyn gotten word of this?
Then it hit her. Her parents didn’t know.
Primping her gelled hair, Mama V was playing it safe. Having it her way. If she had even breathed a word about Howard and her budding romance, her daughter and son-in-law would have checked him out immediately. With his career in finance, Dad would have gotten all the key information. Income. Credit score. Debt ratio.
Her mother clearly considered Mama V an invalid. “Be sure she’s not overdoing it and takes all her medications.”
What medications? Cabernet? Mama V winked at her over the lip of her wineglass.
Okay, so her grandmother didn’t need her help, not the way she’d imagined anyway. Maybe Carolyn should consider this visit a different kind of duty. First, she’d vet Howard so she could explain him to her mother. Carolyn smoothed the linen napkin over her lap. Yep, that’s exactly what she’d do.
“So, your grandmother tells me you’re a teacher,” Howard began after their order had been taken.
“Yes, high school English.” She lifted her glass for a sip that became a gulp. The wine hit the back of her throat with a pleasing spray of oak.
Howard’s eyes narrowed but his forehead stayed smooth. Botox? “In a town on a lake? Is that what I understand?”
“Lake Michigan.” How could she explain the peacefulness of Gull Harbor? No wide lanes of traffic racing down their Lake Shore Drive. Just the peaceful shoreline. Soaring gulls. The lake breeze rustling through pine trees. In Gull Harbor an exciting Saturday night meant watching a DVD or shopping online for another pair of khaki pants. Yippy, skippy.
“Must be quiet there in the winter.”
“You’d be surprised. Visitors come for the snow sports.”
Alan came to her aid. “Snowmobiling, I suppose? Cross-country skiing?” His voice drifted off, his list depleted. But she appreciated his intervention.
“Yes, some of that. We get a lot of snow.”
The waiter brought a bread basket, Howard placed a large hunk on his plate and a smaller one on Mama V’s. “We have snow,” he said. “But nothing like the Midwest. Ours is gone like that.” And he snapped his fingers.
After the waiter served the soup, the table fell silent. Her eyes flagged. The warm room and the wine were making her groggy. Dipping her soup spoon into the creamy bisque, she longed to be in bed with a book.
When she fell asleep tonight, would her dream about Brody return? Carolyn’s hand jiggled and soup splattered her blouse. “Oh, honestly.”
Alan snatched his napkin from his lap, but she got there first. No way was Howard’s son blotting her boobs. He seemed to realize it. With apologetic eyes, he returned his napkin to his lap while she worked on the stain.
“Oh, your pretty blouse. We’ll just have to get you some new clothes,” her grandmother chirped. The words struck her as criticism. She scrubbed harder at the stains. Mama V’s flowing top looked as if it had come from Picasso’s studio, all colorful swirls and dots. Purple pants matched the violets embedded in her heels. Recovering from a hip fracture and her grandmother was wearing heels, the plastic kind with flowers.
“Everything okay?” Alan murmured.
“Fine.” She felt like a first grader with oatmeal on her shirt.
“They really know what they’re doing in the kitchen. Four star restaurant.” Howard leaned toward her with this bit of news.
For a few seconds they sat and sipped. Waiters moved with quiet authority between the tables and booths. The restaurant was full. These reservations had probably been made some time ago. She wished she’d been warned.
“What about your career plans?” Howard broke the silence. “Will you stay in Gulfport?”
“Gull Harbor,” she supplied, pushing her half eaten soup aside.
“Right. Gull Harbor. Kind of quaint, isn’t it? Will you stay there until you...well, make more permanent plans?”
“Howard?” Mama V put her spoon down.
“What? I’m just asking.” He turned up the palms of both hands.
What were “permanent plans?” Carolyn had a feeling they involved a husband and children. “Right now, I have no plans to relocate. I love Gull Harbor.” Even if she whipped out her phone and showed Howard shots of spectacular sunsets over the lake, it might not matter. Sleepy, little Gull Harbor wasn’t for everyone.
“But the pool of eligible young people. Oh!” He cast a quick look at Mama V. Had she kicked him?
“How is that soup, Dad?” Alan broke in. Maybe he realized his father was about to point out that Carolyn was “getting on.” When had thirty-two become middle age?
Time to turn the tables. “My grandmother tells me you have a store.” Not a shop, but a store. Carolyn watched Howard draw himself up. She almost expected peacock feathers to unfurl.
“Yes, Haynes Jewelry.” Howard poked his butter knife toward the window. The heavy gold ring on his right pinkie gleamed. “Just down the road.”
“Alan makes some of the jewelry himself.” Mama V fingered a necklace sporting a huge opal.
“Alan’s a master designer.” Howard smiled with satisfaction. “He studied in Europe. His designs have won awards.”
“And here comes our dinner,” Alan broke in. “Time to finish up that soup, Dad.”
Howard’s son was slowly endearing himself to Carolyn. His attempts to manage his father almost made her laugh.
As the waiter drew closer, the air filled with tantalizing smells. Carolyn was starving. For a few minutes, they concentrated on the food. She savored the silence and her salmon. It might be hard for Howard to put his foot in his mouth again when it was filled with prime beef.
“So you’re a teacher,” Alan said quietly while her grandmother was making eyes at Howard. “I’ll bet the kids love you.”
Thinking back to the Christmas gifts students had left on her desk, she smiled. “Maybe.”
“I always wanted to be a teacher,” Alan said, with a note of regret.
“Why didn’t you? We always need more teachers.”
Alan slid his eyes across the table. She didn’t need a road map.
“A successful family business provides security.” When Alan drew himself up like that, he looked just like his father. “Look, I think you’re doing a real service by teaching. You grew up in Chicago?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to stay there.” And she wasn’t going any further with that. “Are you and your father Santa Fe natives?”
“Oh, no. Not many people here actually grew up in Santa Fe. But they’re drawn here in droves. The art market is second only to New York. But some come because they feel the area has an aura. Something to do with Indian folklore and their mystical past.” Here he rolled his eyes. “I’m not really sure what that’s all about.”
“So where do you call home?”
“I grew up in Palm Springs. Berkley for school.” He nodded at his father, still wrapped up in her grandmother. It was kind of cute. “Dad still keeps a place there.”
Both father and son oozed culture and money. Well-heeled and well-dressed. Here she sat, her simple clothes wrinkled and stained. Her friend Diana would definitely not approve. She owned a boutique called Hippy Chick. The colorful skirts, embroidered tops and fanciful jewelry would fit in here. Her stylish grandmother would love them. Carolyn felt drab tonight, compared to her grandmother. Deflated, she devoted herself to her garlic mashed potatoes.
“You’ll have to come back in opera season,” Howard was s
aying. “Alan loves it. But perhaps you’ve been here during the summer?”
“Thought about it but never made it. I usually teach summer school and work in a local deli.” That probably sounded as exciting as watching paint dry.
“You should consider it. I’d love to take you to the opera this summer.” Alan had finished his meal. The waiter was clearing. “I hope this trip is one of many.”
“Sounds nice, Alan.” Keeping her expression noncommittal, Carolyn was relieved to see the waiter arrive with coffee. “Decaf please.” The last thing she wanted was to be kept awake tonight. Her body felt exhausted but her mind wasn’t.
Somehow, she got through coffee. The flourless chocolate cake restored her spirits and she mellowed out. But why did the warm, rich cake remind her of Brody? If only she could stop thinking about His Hotness. In her overactive imagination, he was a man who invited decadence.
“What are you smiling about, dear?” her grandmother asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
Howard threw a meaningful glance at Alan, as if to say good job. But he had it so wrong.
“So tell me about your design work, Alan? Do you prefer working in gold or platinum?” If she kept asking questions, maybe they’d do the talking. By the time they called it a night, her eyelids felt heavy as stones. Always a gentleman, Alan helped her from the chair and handed her the plain quilted jacket. Then they were out in the crisp night air. “Look at that sky. Don’t you just love it?” her grandmother asked, linking her arm through Carolyn’s.
“It’s always so spectacular.” The indigo blue sky in New Mexico held a million stars.
“And now, I have a surprise for you!” Howard rubbed his hands together.
Carolyn turned, suddenly cautious. The expression on her grandmother’s face indicated she knew what was coming.
“El Farol next door has flamenco dancers. The best in the region.” Motioning to them, he was already walking up the road.
What? No way. She stood her ground. “Oh, thank you but I have to get some sleep.” And she yawned so wide, Howard could probably see her tonsils before she covered her mouth with one hand. Hardly ladylike but she didn’t care. By this time her grandmother looked stranded between them.
