Just Desserts

by Barbara Bretton

  One of the few good things about living in a place with limited square footage was convenience. Her stackable washer-dryer combination was hidden away in her hall closet off the kitchen.

  “Bad news,” she said as she sat back down at the table. “Spring Meadow.”

  He actually blanched. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Am I under oath?” A grin twitched at the corners of her mouth. “I meant to use Tide.”

  “Like walking around in a hot-pink bath towel wasn’t bad enough.”

  “You looked very masculine in that hot-pink towel. Not many men could pull it off.” Perfect. For once in her life she didn’t say more than she should.

  Amused embarrassment suited him. “Hey, what guy doesn’t think pink when he’s got a date.”

  “I thought we agreed this isn’t a date. We’re having too much fun. I don’t know about you, but I never have fun on dates.”

  “Maybe you haven’t been dating the right men.”

  “Actually I haven’t been dating much at all.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m sorry but life’s too short to spend it wearing heels and makeup for some guy who can’t even make you laugh.”

  “So you like to laugh.”

  “Laughing is high up on the list. How about you?”

  “Laughing is good.” He put down his fork. “You’re not looking to get married again?”

  “Lizzie and I have been on our own a long time now. I don’t know how adaptable I am. Besides, I’m not sure marriage is good enough compensation for giving up my independence.”

  “There must be something to marriage or it wouldn’t be so popular.”

  “You told me you were married once,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “I think I did it wrong.”

  “Wrong partner? Wrong time?”

  “A little of everything.” He told her about his early marriage, the months spent out on the road, the baby they had lost.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I miscarried a baby boy before I got pregnant with Lizzie. I know how much it hurts.”

  “We didn’t handle it well,” he admitted. “Once we lost the baby, we drifted so far apart there was no putting the marriage back together.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “As much as I was capable of loving someone then.” He met her eyes. “Did you love your ex?”

  “I loved his family,” she replied. “Sometimes I think that was why I married him in the first place.”

  “Any close calls since?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I have Lizzie, the bakery, and the cake business to keep me busy. My ex was—” She stopped and shook her head again. “My ex isn’t a model citizen, Finn. It wasn’t a happy marriage. I wish I could say he’s managed to be a good father to Lizzie despite his other shortcomings but he hasn’t. A man would have to be very special for me to let him into our family circle.”

  “I’ve met Lizzie,” he reminded her. “A man would be lucky to be allowed in.”

  “Do you ever think about marrying again?”

  “Believe it or not, I’d like to try again with the right person.”

  “You should ask your boss for advice,” she joked. “He’s done it often enough.”

  “Three times and a fourth in the works.”

  “What’s up with that anyway? Doesn’t he learn from experience?”

  “No,” he said. “That’s why Tommy needs live-in counsel.”

  “No, seriously. How many times can you say ‘I do’ before you realize maybe you don’t?”

  “The thing about Tommy is that each time he believes it’s going to last forever.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Rafferty said. “I’ve known the guy my whole life and I can tell you that when he falls in love, he falls all the way. Nobody’s more surprised than he is when it doesn’t work out.”

  “So the fact that he walks out on these women hasn’t registered with him yet.”

  “He doesn’t walk, Hayley. They do.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Every time,” Rafferty stated. “The thing is, once you’re in the fishbowl, you start trying to find a way back out. The spotlight gets old after a while and they end up walking.”

  “I saw an item about Tommy in Page Six yesterday. He was buying some big diamond for his latest fiancée.”

  “Willow.”

  “Willow.” She shook her head. “When did girls start being named after trees anyway?”

  “He’s a romantic,” Rafferty said with a shrug. “Actually he’s a romantic optimist.”

  “Does he have reason to be this time around?”

  “Probably not.”

  “So you’re saying Willow will probably walk out on him one day too.”

  “Odds are she’ll be gone before the kid’s second birthday.”

  “So I take it you’re not a romantic optimist.”

  “I’m his lawyer.”

  “You’re a cynic.”

  “A realist. I believe marriage is possible. I believe it can last a lifetime. I just don’t believe it’s going to happen for Tommy and Willow.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this about a multimillionaire rock star, but I almost feel sorry for him.”

  “Don’t,” Finn said. “He’s pretty much bulletproof when it comes to romance. He’ll fall in love again, marry again, and the crowd at Christmas will get bigger because somehow they all stay friends.”

  She tried to imagine a convivial gathering of the extended Maitland-Goldstein family, but every time she inserted Michael into the picture, the fantasy came crashing down.

  “It’s terrific that all of the exes think he hung the moon, but the only thing worse than my marriage was my divorce. It really took a toll on Lizzie. How in the world do Tommy Stiles’s kids handle it over and over again?”

  “They handle it very well,” he said after a moment. “He’s a good father.”

  “Probably as good as mine and I never knew the man.”

  His expression shifted. He looked downright uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry. A little sperm donor humor. He’s your friend and my next paycheck. I stepped over the line.”

  “You didn’t step over the line. You expressed an opinion.”

  “Unsolicited.”

  “Most opinions are.”

  “I guess the whole father thing is a hot-button issue for me.”

  He nodded but he didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure if that was a sign of disinterest or discretion.

  “In case you’re wondering, I did say sperm donor before. It’s kind of like the elephant in the room, isn’t it?”

  “Your mother went the sperm donor route?”

  “She’s a scientist. She was forty. There was no man in her life. She wanted a guaranteed brilliant child so she found herself a high IQ sperm donor and proved the entire thesis wrong when she had me.”

  “I think she did pretty well for herself.”

  “I’m not a Rhodes scholar, Rafferty.”

  “You’re an artist.”

  “A baker.”

  “An artist. I saw your paintings on the walls. I saw the work you’ve done on the cakes. You’re the real deal.”

  “I’m happy,” she admitted, “but there’s no getting around the fact that I’m not exactly the brain trust she was hoping for.”

  Rhoda barked twice, circled the kitchen table, then barked again.

  She stood up. “Rhoda needs some out time.”

  He pushed back his chair but she motioned for him to stop.

  “Stay,” she said. “Nobody but family should ever have to walk behind Rhoda.”

  In the end it was always about the timing.

  He had been a half step away from telling her everything when the ubiquitous Rhoda decided it was time to hit the street.

  He wasn’t sure if the dog had saved him from making a terrible mistake or screwed him out of
his one chance to find out where this could go.

  He checked his phone for messages. Two more from Tommy, both about Willow and the negotiations. One from a friend putting together a charity softball game scheduled for August in Sagaponack. Nothing that couldn’t wait.

  He gathered up the dirty dishes, scraped them, then loaded them into her dishwasher. He chucked the empty cartons into the trash while the three cats watched him from the doorway.

  “How’s it hangin’, Murray?”

  The humongous white cat, tail held high like the mast of a clipper ship, loped toward him. Was a high-flying cat tail a good thing? It beat the hell out of him.

  Clearly he had a lot to learn.

  For example, how long did it take to walk a dog? She had been gone twenty minutes at least. He was wondering if the length of the walk was in any way proportional to the size of the dog when the kitchen phone rang.

  “Hello! Hello!” Mr. G called out from his living room perch. “Helloooooo!”

  By the fourth ring he realized voice mail wasn’t going to kick in. Hayley didn’t believe in unanswered phones. Lizzie wasn’t home. It was up to him or Mr. G.

  Opposable thumbs ruled.

  “Hello.”

  Long silence.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry.” A girl’s voice. “I must’ve dialed wrong.”

  “Lizzie?”

  “Yes.” She was definitely her mother’s daughter. The slightly wary tone was a dead giveaway. “Who’s this?”

  “Finn Rafferty. Your mom is out walking Rhoda.”

  “The famous guy’s lawyer? What are you doing there?”

  Those Goldstein girls didn’t mince words. “Your mom and I were talking on the phone about great Chinese food. I told her we had the best take-out place on the planet in Montauk and ten minutes later I was in the car on the way down here to prove it.”

  “That’s crazy!” Lizzie was laughing as she said it.

  “Eight hours round trip,” he said. “I think crazy pretty much covers it.”

  “You can tell me the truth. You were worried about the cakes and that’s why you really drove down.”

  “Sorry, Lizzie. It was all about Chinese food.”

  “You’re not even a little worried?”

  “On a scale of one to ten, I’d rank it a zero.”

  “I’ll bet she showed you anyway.”

  He started to laugh. “You’re right,” he said, “and it was incredible.”

  “I told you it would be.” He could hear her smile right through the phone.

  You had to love the kid. Fourteen years old and filled with confidence and enthusiasm. He knew who was responsible.

  Thundering hooves sounded on the staircase followed by a lighter, syncopated step.

  “Hang on, Lizzie. Your mom just walked in.”

  The cats scattered as Rhoda exploded into the room.

  “Hey, guys! You don’t have to knock me down.” Hayley pretended to stagger into the kitchen as Ted, Mary, and Murray tore past her. Her brows lifted when she noticed he was holding the phone.

  “It’s Lizzie,” he said.

  Everything he needed to know about her was reflected in her eyes as she took the receiver from him. Love, fear, concern, joy. He knew that look. He had seen it many times in Tommy’s eyes when he looked at his brood.

  “What’s up…Yes, I found the keys…The food was great…” She glanced over at Finn and winked. “It just might be the best…She’s your friend…You know she didn’t mean that…Yes, I know…Lizzie!” She made a quarter turn toward the window. “Of course I’ll come get you…Stay put…One egg roll, a little soup, and some shrimp in garlic sauce…I’ll be there soon.”

  She hung up the phone then turned back to him. He had never seen a lovelier face or a more expressive one.

  “Lizzie had a fight with her best friend and now she wants to come home. I have to go get her.” Was that regret mixed in with the other emotions?

  He hoped so.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “She’s fourteen. They’re very dramatic at that age. Everything’s a soap opera.”

  He said all the right things. It was late. He had a long drive ahead of him. She shouldn’t keep Lizzie waiting. He didn’t mean any of them. He wanted to stay. He wanted her to stay. He wanted reality to stay away a little longer.

  They made their way downstairs, through the bakery, past the workroom with the prototypes of the drum set and the gold records and a shitload of guilt, and out the back door. Her aging Buick was tucked in the driveway, a few feet away.

  “Where are you parked?” she asked.

  “In front of the dry cleaners.” He aimed a smile at her in the darkness. “I figured Lou might want to keep an eye on me.”

  “Lou and everyone else in town,” she said with a rueful but affectionate laugh. “By the way, I didn’t forget that I owe you twenty.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “I had a great time today, Finn.” She paused. “Even if you do smell like a spring garden.”

  “You were right before when you said this wasn’t a date.”

  Her voice went softer. “What gave it away?”

  “The fact that I’d like to do it all over again.”

  He heard the hopeful uncertainty in her voice. “No changes?”

  “No changes.”

  “I’d change one thing.”

  “Okay,” he said, thinking of their lack of a condom. “I’d change that too.”

  She ducked her head. “Not that.” A long pause. “I’d change Lizzie’s timing.”

  Her mouth was soft beneath his in the welcoming darkness. The sweet night air dancing in the charged space between them. Rhoda barked from somewhere inside the house. Bits of conversation floated toward them from the street. A radio, set to the Phillies station, alternately blared then drifted away.

  The charged space between them vanished as they melted into each other. She was slender, gently curved in ways that surprised and delighted him. He knew her body now, knew it intimately. He knew how she tasted, how she smelled, how she sounded when she came.

  But that wariness, that reserve, was still there.

  It killed him to know that she was right to be wary. Nothing was exactly as it seemed to be. Nothing but the moment.

  “Finn, I—”

  “Shh.”

  He cupped her face with his hands, kissed her hard and fast, then stepped away.

  “Go,” he said. “Lizzie’s waiting.”

  She nodded, her blue-green eyes searching him for something he couldn’t give.

  “You know that other shoe I keep waiting for?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “I think it just dropped.”

  16

  “The soup at Szechuan Dan’s is better than this.” Lizzie pushed her bowl away from her and reached for the carton of kung pao.

  Hayley plucked a noodle from the half-empty bowl and dipped it in some mustard. “I thought the soup was amazing.”

  Lizzie fussed with her chopsticks for a moment then abandoned them for a fork. “This isn’t bad,” she said, spearing a piece of chicken.

  “Come on, Lizzie. Give credit where it’s due.”

  Lizzie favored her with a grin. “Okay, so it’s great.”

  “Told you so.” It wasn’t often the mother of a teenage girl got to say that with impunity.

  She divided the egg roll into two and popped a half on her daughter’s plate. “So tell me what went wrong over at Tracy’s house. I thought you two were best buds.”

  Lizzie embarked on a long story about science lab and some project she had been working on with Amanda. Hayley tried very hard to keep her attention on her daughter but she kept replaying her day with Finn.

  “Mom! You’re not listening.”

  “Sorry. Just repeat the last part and I’ll catch up.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.” She brightened. “Grandma Jane called me on my cell while I was a
t Tracy’s. She’ll be in London tomorrow. She said she’ll stay a day or two then fly the rest of the way home before the end of the week.”

  “How did she sound?”

  “Tired,” Lizzie said.

  “She’s jet-lagged.”

  “From what? She hasn’t even left Mumbai yet.”

  Good point. Was it possible age was finally making inroads on her superhuman mother? The thought of Jane showing signs of human frailty sent a shiver up her spine and the worrying apparatus into motion.

  “We’re going to have to shovel out the guest room,” Hayley said. “And make sure the bathroom is up to her standards.” The woman had made do on tramp steamers and garbage scows in her search to discover all there was to know about the world’s oceans. She had availed herself of strange sanitary apparatus that would make a Navy SEAL go weak at the knees. But once Jane was on dry land, all bets were off.

  “No bathroom is up to Grandma’s standards,” Lizzie said, laughing. “She told me only an operating room is clean enough.”

  “Well, she’s going to have to lower her standards while she’s living Chez Us.” Hayley laid out the schedule for the next few days. “I’m going to need a lot of help from you this week, Lizzie. Everything’s happening at once and we’re going to have to pull together to get it all done.”

  “Aunt Fee wants to know why Grandma isn’t staying with her. She’s insulted.”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Hayley admitted. “The last time she stayed with us you hadn’t even started school yet.”

  “She’s not a big fan of cats.”

  “Or dogs.”

  “Or parrots.”

  “Or my cooking.” Hayley rolled her eyes.

  “Or my music.”

  “Your grandmother’s a moocher,” Hayley said. “She sends all her money to that save-the-whales foundation of hers and mooches off indigent relatives instead.”

  Lizzie was laughing so hard she couldn’t talk and Hayley wasn’t far behind. When your mother was a combination of Einstein and Mother Teresa, sometimes the only thing a dropout daughter could do was laugh, and if she made her own daughter laugh too, so much the better.

  Jane could be imperious, demanding, and difficult to live with on a daily basis. She craved logic, quiet, and harmony, three things found only in Lizzie’s room and then in random combinations.