Just Desserts

by Barbara Bretton

  How two people had accumulated such a towering pile of junk and managed to distribute that junk throughout every room of their small home defied understanding.

  Books, magazines, half-finished crafts projects, science experiments, shoes (lots of shoes), catnip mice, chew toys for dogs, chew toys for parrots, newspapers—you name it, if you looked hard enough you would find it somewhere in the mountain of stuff.

  “I can’t let him in here,” she said to the three cats, one dog, and one laughing parrot who were watching her, wide-eyed, from various hiding places.

  He’s driving all the way from East Hampton. He’s going to need to use the john.

  The same john that was currently littered with blow dryers, hair products, skin cream, acne medication, mascara, shadow, blush, enough lipsticks to supply the crew of America’s Next Top Model for the next three seasons, two bras drying over the shower rod, and some unmentionables she would die if he even knew she possessed.

  There was no hope for it. She stripped off her outfit, slipped back into her oldest jeans and worst T-shirt, and got down to work.

  This is why God made bathtubs, she thought as she tossed piles of junk behind the magic curtain. If it weren’t for bathtubs, big closets, and that dusty space under the bed, nobody would ever have people over.

  She glanced at the clock. She had thirty-five minutes to mop the kitchen floor, hide the mop, hide the kitchen (if only), then change back into clothes that didn’t make her look like Cinderella before the fairy godmother came to town.

  The house phone rang as she slipped out of her scullery maid clothes.

  “Aunt Fee, this isn’t a good time…Yes, I understand…Sure, I’d be happy to…Not right now…Somebody’s coming over…Yes, the lawyer, but it’s not a date…No, I don’t know what it is…He’s bringing Chinese food…From Montauk…Okay, so maybe it does sound a little like a date…I’ll let you know…I promise.”

  So Fiona thought it was a date. What did she know? Fiona had married her first boyfriend and stayed married to him for over fifty years. The last time Fiona had obsessed over some guy Eisenhower was president. Times had changed. Dating wasn’t dinner and a movie anymore. Sometimes you couldn’t tell where friendship ended and dating began.

  If it began at all.

  For all she knew the Chinese food was a cover and Rafferty was stopping by to make sure the small-town baker could handle the uptown job he had commissioned.

  She could handle that. She even understood that.

  But the fact that a great-looking, funny, decent man was willing to drive almost the entire length of Long Island and New Jersey to see her was enough to make her consider the witness protection program.

  Worrying she was good at.

  Dating was another story.

  Finn sailed across the Verrazano and through Staten Island in a haze of guilt and expectation.

  Either that or he was high on fumes from the three shopping bags filled with Chinese food on the backseat.

  A full blast of irony smacked him in the face as he rolled down the New Jersey Turnpike. He was the one who had reamed Tommy for crossing the line before they had the facts to back him up. He was the one who had wanted to keep everything strictly contained within a legal framework.

  And now he was the one following his heart down to South Jersey at the speed of light.

  Exit 8A.

  Exit 8.

  Exit 7.

  The township names whizzed by in a blur as he got closer to Lakeside.

  He could still turn around and head back to Montauk. All he had to do was call her and say something had come up, some rock star emergency that required legal assistance on a Sunday afternoon.

  Everyone knew celebrities were needy. That was a given. Celebrities required toadies and handlers and lawyers to walk ten steps behind them and clean up the mess. Even the good ones like Tommy created a wake that knocked smaller boats off course, sometimes permanently.

  Exit 6.

  He had never been good at keeping the personal separate from the professional. Ask his ex-wife. The endless phone calls, the months spent on the road, the temptations. She wanted a real home, a family of her own, and it quickly became clear Finn’s skill set came up short.

  When they lost the baby they lost the last thread binding them together.

  Maybe if he had been older, he would have understood what was happening, but he had been as caught up in his grief as his ex was. Unable to look beyond his own pain. He wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before the pregnancy but that was impossible. She wanted more at a time when he was able to give even less.

  She was happy now. She had a husband and home, the kids she had always longed for. Every now and then he ran into somebody who knew her and the news was always good. He was glad. She deserved better than the man he used to be.

  Tommy was his boss, his family, the guy who took him in when he needed a home. The boundaries shifted with the circumstances and after a while they disappeared entirely.

  “I’m your family too,” his wife had said to him during one of their last arguments. “Why can’t you understand that?”

  His loyalties had belonged to Tommy Stiles. Everyone else ran a distant second.

  This was the first time he could remember being conflicted about where loyalty to Tommy began and ended. The fact that he had driven almost two hundred miles to deliver some noodles and a container of hot-and-sour soup meant something but he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out what.

  He liked the way she looked, the way she laughed, the things she said, the way she said them. He liked the way she took care of Lizzie, the connection between them. She had inherited a down-on-its-luck bakery and brought it back to life and somehow found time to grow another business decorating upscale cakes.

  He wanted to see her again. He wanted to hear her laugh. He wanted to watch the way she tucked her hair behind her right ear when she was concentrating.

  He hadn’t known how much he wanted it until he heard her voice a few hours ago. He missed her. He barely knew her but he missed her in a way that was so primal, so life-shaking, that on another day he might have run as far and as fast as he could from the feeling.

  This time he was running straight into it.

  He hit Lakeside at quarter to four and was standing at her door at ten to the hour. Was early better than late? He wasn’t sure. Early had to be better. Nobody liked to be kept waiting. Waiting was for doctor’s offices and planes, not a first date.

  But was this a date? Driving over two hundred miles to deliver Chinese food to a terrific woman had to mean something, but for all he knew she saw him as an overeducated delivery boy.

  “She’s not there.”

  He turned at the sound of an old man’s voice behind him. It was the dry-cleaner sentinel he remembered from last time. “What was that?”

  The guy was short, bald, and easily pushing ninety but he had the presence of a linebacker. “I said, she’s not there. She told me to tell you she tried calling but your cell is turned off.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Lou. I live next door. I’ve known that kid since she was in high school.”

  He nodded. Lou had a proprietary interest in Hayley’s welfare. He got it. “So where is she?”

  “Beats hell out of me. When that dog takes off it’s anybody’s guess.” He pointed down toward the lake. “She went that way.”

  He put down the three shopping bags of Chinese food. “Would you watch these for me, Lou?”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “How does an egg roll and a bowl of hot-and-sour soup sound?”

  “Like twelve hours of heartburn.”

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ten. “Feeling better?”

  “That’ll get you thirty minutes.”

  “And what happens after thirty minutes?”

  “We renegotiate.”

  So that was where Lizzie got her deal-making skills. It wasn’t gene
tic after all. It was in Lakeside’s water supply.

  He took off toward the stand of trees at the far end of the block. A pair of teenage girls stopped to watch and giggle as he darted around them. At the corner a middle-aged guy in a pale green minivan leaned on the horn when he should have leaned on the brakes, and Finn thanked high school football for his broken-field running skills. Small towns could be deadly.

  The air was rich with the smell of a rainy spring and a few other country aromas he didn’t want to dwell on. The grass was wet and muddy and he sank deep into the muck with every step.

  “Rhoda!” Hayley’s voice sounded from a distance. “Rho-da!”

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Hayleeeey!”

  There was a beat of silence, then a loud “Rafferty?”

  Followed immediately by thundering hoofbeats and an even louder “Woof!” as a dog the size of a humpback whale hurled itself at his chest.

  Hayley popped through the thicket to find Rafferty lying flat on his back in the mud, trying to fend off slobbery kisses from an uber-friendly Rhoda.

  “Do something,” he said, ducking another onslaught. “I think Cujo’s in love.”

  “Don’t let go,” she said as he hung on to Rhoda’s collar to keep her from bolting. “Rhoda has a slight problem with authority.”

  “Don’t we all,” he muttered. Then, “What do you feed this dog anyway?”

  “She stole some cat food this morning,” she said, trying hard not to laugh. “That’s Fancy Feast on her breath.”

  “She’s sitting on my lungs. Do you think you could—”

  “Sorry! I was taking out the garbage and she blew past and out the door before I could grab her.” She wrapped her hand around Rhoda’s collar. “Come on, Rhoda. Let’s—”

  She hadn’t been kidding when she said Rhoda had a problem with authority. Hayley struggled to hang on to the collar but Rhoda had the moves. Rhoda went left as Hayley went right and it was all over.

  She fell hard across him, breasts flattened against his thighs, her breath moist and warm against his chest. Her hair smelled like the ocean even though they were miles from the shore. She was softer than he had expected. Rounder. More yielding.

  Sometimes the gods managed to get it right.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I had the breath knocked out of me. How about you?”

  He couldn’t stop smiling. “Couldn’t be better.”

  She shifted position against him and his reaction was instantaneous and very rewarding. Her cheeks reddened and she ducked her head. She wondered if he knew she was smiling too.

  They were lying in cold mud in broad daylight in a public park while a giant dog nudged them with a very wet muzzle. It was the most fun either one of them had had in a long time.

  She made no effort to get up.

  He wondered if she noticed that was fine with him.

  He liked the weight of her body on his. He liked her peppermint breath, her full mouth. He liked the fact that if he leaned forward he could taste that mouth—

  “Mary Jane Esposito is watching us,” she said.

  “I don’t see anyone.”

  “She’s behind that blue spruce over there.”

  “Does Mary Jane Esposito spend a lot of time spying on you from behind a blue spruce?”

  “It’s been a long time since I gave her anything to spy on.”

  Her huge blue-green eyes crinkled when she smiled. He added it to the list of things he liked.

  “I’m willing to aid the cause.”

  “I think we’ve given her enough to keep her busy.”

  There it was: the right moment. Their mouths were inches apart. He wanted to kiss her. She wanted to be kissed. All he had to do was lean forward and do it.

  “It’s cold out here,” she said. “We should get back to the house.”

  She scrabbled for purchase but fell back against his chest.

  “You’re not much help,” she said to him, half laughing, half serious.

  “Try again,” he invited. “I’ve got all day.”

  For an instant she melted against him, pliant and yielding, and then something clicked and she shook her head. “I have a daughter,” she said softly. “That changes everything.”

  If possible, he liked her even more.

  He steadied her as she got her footing then managed to get to his own feet, dripping mud and primordial ooze.

  Apparently it was a good look in the dog world because Rhoda wagged her tail and nuzzled his hand like they were long-lost friends. For every step backward he took, Rhoda took two forward.

  “For what it’s worth,” she said, obviously trying not to laugh, “she doesn’t like just anyone.”

  “What does she do to people she doesn’t like?”

  “Pretty much ignores them.” Her eyes were practically dancing with amusement. “It’s a kind of good news, bad news thing.”

  Rhoda, sensing her moment, rose up on her hind legs and placed her two massive front paws against his chest. Her brown eyes were aglow with doggie adoration.

  He had to admit there was something to be said for unconditional love.

  He looked over at Hayley. “You said she likes Chinese.”

  “Egg rolls rock her world.”

  “I brought four of them. If that guy Lou didn’t eat his way through the order, she can have one.”

  “Don’t worry. Lou won’t eat the egg rolls.” She seemed highly amused by the whole thing. “How much did he soak you for?”

  “Ten bucks for thirty minutes. He said we can negotiate beyond that.”

  “Lou is an institution around here. You’ll be lucky if you get your bags back for less than twenty.”

  “He’s worse than a three-card monte hustler.”

  “Don’t give him any ideas. He’ll set up a table at the corner of Main and Watch Your Wallet.”

  “Just in case, what else does Cujo here like?”

  “Lo mein, hot-and-sour soup—”

  “She’s not getting the soup.”

  “She’s flexible. Half an egg roll and she’ll be your friend for life.”

  “And another dream comes true.”

  The laughter she had been holding back broke free. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, “but if this is a date, we’re in big trouble.”

  “So you think this is a date?”

  “Actually I’m not sure.” Her smile downshifted. “Are you?”

  “I debated it all the way down the turnpike. The jury’s out.”

  “I was counting on you to come up with the answer.”

  “We’re both single and there’s Chinese food involved. Where I come from that usually means something.”

  “Maybe it just means we like Chinese food,” she suggested.

  He glanced down at himself. “And mud.”

  “We could hose you down in the backyard.”

  “Or run me through the car wash.” He took a close look at her. “Maybe we can get a two-for-one deal.”

  “You can use my shower. Well, you can use it after I re-hide the junk I hid behind the shower curtain before you got here. And, to be perfectly honest, I should tell you the shower curtain has seen better days. If I didn’t look like the loser in a mud-wrestling contest, I’d run over to Target and buy a new one.”

  He started to laugh. “The point of hiding stuff behind the shower curtain is to keep people from knowing you hide stuff behind your shower curtain.”

  “You sound like you have some shower curtain experience of your own.”

  “Ovens work too. Great for dirty dishes.”

  “I’m a baker. I use my oven.”

  “You use your shower too.”

  “I keep forgetting you’re a lawyer. Everything I say can and will be held against me.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think this rises to Miranda standards.”

  She whistled for Rhoda, who had wandered off to inspect an azalea bush, then turned back
to Finn. “Come on. I can wash and dry your clothes in the time it takes us to stand here and talk about it.”

  “It’s too much trouble.”

  “It’s not like I’ll be scrubbing them against a rock. You can’t drive home in a mud suit.”

  She had a point there.

  “It’s really simple, Rafferty, I promise. You take your clothes off. I wash them and dry them. You put them back on.” She flashed him a grin. “And don’t worry. I promise I won’t peek.”

  A date, he thought, as they followed Rhoda back to the bakery.

  No doubt about it.

  13

  Lou next door liked to sit in front of his son’s dry-cleaning establishment and watch the world go by. Weather permitting, Lou set up a lawn chair on the sidewalk every afternoon, poured himself a cold one, and waited for something to happen. Unfortunately for Lou, Lakeside was a very small town, which meant that on a given day nothing much did.

  Hayley knew that the sight of the three of them—Finn, Rhoda, and herself—all covered in mud and gunk would be a gossip bonanza.

  “Don’t say anything more than you have to,” she warned Finn as they approached. “Mary Jane Espo already has enough information. And don’t let him talk you out of more than twenty bucks. He may look old and innocent but he’s an operator.”

  An operator with the second-biggest mouth in town. News of the tall, dark, and handsome stranger bearing bags of Chinese food had probably spread from one side of town to the other.

  “Forty-two minutes,” the old man greeted them as he protected the bags of food at his feet from her inquisitive dog. “That’s thirty-five dollars.”

  “Lou!” Hayley shot him her most quelling look. “He is so not paying you thirty-five dollars for watching our food. We’ll give you fifteen and even that’s highway robbery.”

  Lou could scowl with the best of them. In his day he had inspired terror in the local kids. “Thirty.”

  Rafferty stepped forward. “Our agreement was ten dollars for thirty minutes, right?”

  Lou took a long drag on his cigar and nodded. “Yep.”