Giving her a quick once-over, Norman shook his head and motioned for her to take a seat. "You look like hell--like a drowned rat."
"Thank you very much," Maisy sneered as she plopped into a chair and swiped the wet locks of hair from her face.
Reaching into the middle drawer of his desk, Norman retrieved a Hershey's chocolate bar with almonds and waved it towards Maisy. "That frenzied expression tells me that you're probably in search of this. Am I right?"
Maisy's eyes bugged out as she leaped from her chair and grabbed for the bar. "Chocolate!" She sounded like some wild crack-head, desperate for a fix.
"Uh-uh-uh," Norman said with a self-satisfied little smile as he jerked the chocolate bar away from Maisy's reach. "Not until you tell me what transpired between you and Keller Chaney to provoke you into this savage state of chocolate fixation."
"You're the one to blame, Norman." Sputtering, Maisy wagged an accusatory finger. "If you hadn't been so damned determined to play matchmaker, none of this would have happened."
"None of what? You're not making any sense, Maisy. What on earth happened to make you so upset?" Knitting his brows in concern, Norman sat forward, leaning his chest against his folded arms on the desk. "My God. He didn't do something to hurt you, did he?"
"He most certainly did." Glaring at Norman, Maisy narrowed her eyes and growled, "That bastard kissed me!" She shook the image of Keller's gorgeous face and soft, sensuous lips from her mind as she yanked the Hershey bar from Norman's grasp and ferociously tore at the wrapping. Stuffing a third of the bar into her mouth, Maisy's eyes drifted closed as she moaned a satisfied little sigh. Ready to sink her teeth into another third of the chocolate bar, the ear-popping sound of Norman slamming his hand on top of his desk, with such force it made his pen and pencil holder rattle, stopped Maisy cold.
Slanting Norman a look of astonishment as he grabbed the phone and started punching in numbers, a stunned Maisy said, "What are you doing? Who are you calling?"
"Are you kidding?" Norman said trying his best to look furious. "I'm calling the cops. I want that low-life, rotten sonovabitch thrown in the slammer. The nerve of that guy, disgracing a ladies delicate honor by kissing her. Why, I've never heard of such a thing!" He glanced up at Maisy as he held the receiver to his ear, trying to cover his smirk with the mouthpiece.
Grabbing the telephone out of Norman's hand, Maisy shook her head and laughed. "Give me that phone, you nut-case. Norman Stanley, you are positively incorrigible." After placing the receiver back in its cradle, Maisy took a seat in the persimmon print chair and jammed another third of the chocolate bar into her mouth, making little sounds of satisfaction as the sweet confection calmed and coated her psyche. While the chocolate didn't obliterate the dreamy image of Keller's strong arms pulling her into an embrace, it acted as a perfect, temporary tranquilizing device.
"He kissed you." Norman tsked with a slow shake of his head as he rolled his eyes skyward. "Maisy Morganfield, aren't you ashamed of yourself? All this fuss just because Keller gave you a little kiss." Norman tsked again. "And I'm the one who's incorrigible, huh?" He laughed as he sank back into his chair.
As Maisy jammed the last third of the Hershey bar into her mouth, her eyes brimmed with tears. The sedative effect of the chocolate just wasn't strong enough to blot out the memory of that kiss. "Oh, Norman," she blurted with her mouth full of chocolate and tears streaming down her cheeks. "It wasn't a little kiss. It was a goodbye forever kiss."
"Goodbye forever? You mean he dumped you? Why, the man's obviously a nincompoop, a moron, a . . . a dimwitted ignoramus!" Norman closed the door to his office and drew the blinds. Drawing a handful of tissues from the dispenser on his desk, he took a seat in the chair next to Maisy and put his arm around her. "Aw, honey, I'm so sorry. Go ahead, tell Uncle Norman all about it," he said, patting Maisy's back as she buried her face into Norman's shoulder and let the waterworks flow full force.
After a couple of minutes, Maisy regained a measure of composure, blotting her eyes and blowing her nose with the tissues Norman held out to her. "He . . . he didn't dump me. I . . . I guess I dumped him." Offering a pained smile, she looked up at Norman and shrugged.
Norman lurched back and shot Maisy a look of incredulity. "What? You dumped that gorgeous, incredible monument to manhood?" He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand and mumbled something inaudible. "So, you mean you're the nincompoop, not Keller?"
"Yup, I'm the dimwitted ignoramus," Maisy said, grabbing another handful of tissues and blowing her nose again.
"I don't get it. Why, on earth would you do that for God's sake?"
Heaving a monumental sigh, Maisy said, "Because just after he kissed me the first time and I found myself starting to fall ultra hard for the guy, his sister, Sharon, calls him on his cell phone."
"Yeah, and?"
Maisy glanced up into Norman's eyes and shrugged. "And nothing. We argued about it and I told him never to call me again and then when he dropped me off, he . . . he . . ." Maisy's face contorted as she broke into tears again. "He grabbed me and kissed me like I've never been kissed before in my life. And then he got in the limo and . . . and he . . ." her chin and bottom lip trembled as Maisy struggled to keep from crying ". . . he rode right out of my life--forever." She gestured dramatically as the floodgates opened again.
"Maisy, Maisy, Maisy," Norman said as he shook his head and rubbed his friend's back. "Okay, so help me out here. Are you upset because, one, Keller makes you think of Sharon? Two, because you liked the kiss? Three, because you're angry about the kiss? Four, because you're never going to see him again? Or, five--all of the above?"
"Five," Maisy blubbered without hesitation as she wiped her face with the tissues again. As the memory of Keller's warm breath on her cheek and the way he looked at her with those scrumptious chocolate drop eyes came into focus, Maisy shivered. "Oh Norman, I'm so confused. Never in all my life have I ever experienced anything like that kiss. It was beyond incredible. I mean, in all the years I was married to John, nothing ever even came close to the way Keller made me feel this afternoon." She closed her eyes and hugged herself, luxuriating in the delicious memory. "He was so wonderful and we got along great--and now he thinks I'm a lunatic and a bitch and he hates me."
"Don't be silly. Why would he hate you?"
Cocking her head, Maisy curled her lip. "Well . . . I might have unintentionally said some nasty, spiteful things to him after he got off the phone with Sharon." She bit the tip of her finger. "And, I suppose it may have come across that I was being just a teensy bit childish." She heaved an embarrassed shrug.
"Oh, I see." Nodding, Norman covered his mouth to hide his smile. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you," he said, wiping the smudged mascara from under Maisy's eyes. "Well, granted, maybe the man thinks you're a bitchy lunatic after the way you acted," he laughed, "but, I really rather doubt that he hates you, Maisy."
Remembering her less than cordial exchange with Keller as they rode back from their lunch at Buckingham Fountain, Maisy cringed. "I wouldn't be too sure."
"Hey, no problem. All you have to do is give Keller a call and apologize for acting like such a dunderhead and invite him out to lunch to make up for it. Simple. Trust me, Maisy, by the way Keller was eyeballing you in my office earlier," Norman jiggled his eyebrows, "I can guarantee you he'll jump at the chance to see you again."
Lost in thought, Maisy mumbled and heaved a Herculean sigh. Whipping her head up suddenly, as Norman's remarks fully registered, she gasped. "Wait a minute. Call him? Norman, are you insane? I can't call him."
"Sure you can." Norman dragged the telephone towards him. "It's easy. Look, I'll even punch the numbers in for you. You do want to see Keller again, don't you?"
"Yes, more than anything--and that's exactly why I can't call him--ever!"
Cocking his head, Norman shook it a few times and hit the heel of his hand against his temple as if to shake things loose. "Gee, I'm sorry, I must be losing my mind because that didn'
t make a single bit of sense to me." He folded his arms across his chest. "Come again?"
Heaving a sigh of exasperation, Maisy hopped out of her chair and began to pace. "Don't you understand, Norman? I could really fall for this guy--hard. In fact, I think I already have. He's everything that I could ever hope for in a man. Norman, Keller's the first man that has made me feel really alive since . . . since I hit puberty for chrissakes." She threw her hands up into the air.
Eyeing her cautiously, Norman nodded. "That part I understand. So?"
Uttering a piqued growl and rolling her eyes, Maisy said, "So he's Sharon Chaney's brother, remember?"
"And what? He should be crucified for that?"
"Jeez." Maisy slapped her hand against her forehead and groaned. "I don't understand how you can be so darned dense, Norman. Don't you see, if Keller and I entered into a relationship, I'd inevitably be running into that little bitch sister of his on a regular basis, and every time I see her I'm going to want to rip her face off, stomp on it and choke the living shit out of her." Maisy grasped the invisible neck before her, wringing her hands around it with unbridled glee. "After all I went through because of Sharon and John, I am not about to put myself through that kind of torment just to . . . just to . . ." She stammered as she searched for the right words.
"Just to be with the man who may possibly be your soul mate--your one true love?"
Rolling her eyes skyward, Maisy huffed. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of, just to shack up with some gorgeous hunk." Maisy laughed.
"Do you know how many people go through their whole lives searching in vain for their destined soul mate, Maisy?" Norman wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. "And here, at the tender age of thirty-six, you've had the good fortune to find your heart's desire. Are you really prepared to throw this golden opportunity for love and happiness away--maybe forever?"
Maisy's shoulders slumped and she hesitated a moment before speaking. "Norman, aren't you jumping the gun just a bit? Keller and I only had one date. I don't really even know the guy." She folded her arms across her chest as she shrugged loose from Norman's arm and resumed her pacing. "Soul mate and true love, indeed," she mumbled with a little laugh, shooting a look of incredulity in Norman's direction. Adopting a cool affectation of nonchalance, Maisy wasn't sure who she was trying to convince harder, Norman or herself.
"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Norman shook his finger at Maisy. "Remember my psychic flashes? I told you that Keller was the one, didn't I? When I get vibes that strong, ninety-five-point-nine percent of the time they're never wrong."
Expelling a loud groan, Maisy rolled her eyes and slapped her hand against her forehead. "Oh, puhleeze . . . don't tell me you're going to start that crap again. Give it up, will ya, Norman, and just accept the fact that I'm in the other five-point-one percent, okay?"
"Four-point-one," Norman corrected her.
Throwing her hands into the air, Maisy said, "Yeah, whatever." Circling around to the front of Norman's desk, she scanned the surface. "Got any more chocolate in that drawer?"
Norman reached in his drawer and pulled out the familiar bright yellow bag. "A whole bag of chocolate chips," He jiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Want some?" Maisy nodded and held out her hand. As Norman poured the first few semi-sweet chips into his hand, Maisy's eyes became all watery again as she stared at the chocolate morsels. Slanting Maisy a puzzled look, Norman stopped pouring and planted a balled fist on his hip. "Now what's the matter?" he half growled. "You're looking at the chocolate chips as if they were poison."
Chin quivering, Maisy shook her head back and forth. Breaking her stare, a big tear rolled down her cheek as she looked up at her boss and back at the Tollhouse chips. "I'll . . . I'll never be able to look at these again without thinking of Keller Chaney's eyes."
* * *
Chapter Seven
The brusque late February elements filled Persimmon Travel with people eager to escape the harsh winds and bone-chilling cold. Thankful to have something to fill her day so completely, Maisy threw herself into her work and had little time to think about Keller, or anything else for that matter. Even Norman was too busy to harp on Maisy about Keller, thank God. The last time he brought up Keller's name was the weekend of the big Mayfest in Chicago's Germantown, where Keller's Cellars had a tent. While beer was the beverage of choice for the profusion of brawny partying masses, Keller's wine tent, with its lederhosen-clad workers, was holding its own and doing a brisk business. While Norman didn't see Keller at the Mayfest, he gathered up all the brochures and information available about his winery and brought the bundle back to Maisy--who refused to even look at any of it.
"Whew," Maisy said, wiping her brow as she collapsed against the back of her chair and spun around. "That makes eight all-inclusive Jamaica packages, four Grand Cayman packages, half a dozen Puerto Vallarta packages and a hefty handful of Caribbean cruises, just since nine o'clock this morning."
"Carol and Linda and I have been booking like crazy, too," Norman said. "As soon as those temperatures started to drop, I knew those phones would be ringing off the hook." Rubbing his hands together briskly, Norman looked like a kid on his birthday. "God, I love the travel business. Bring on the blustery cold weather, I always say." Taking a swig of his Diet Coke, he reveled in a wicked laugh.
"I never knew anybody who loved their work as much as you do, Norman," Maisy said, laughing.
After a peek at Maisy's computer screen, Norman drew in a deep breath, expelling it through a bold grin with a satisfied ahhhh. "I get goosebumps looking at all those pretty little dollar signs," he said, winking. Glancing at the wall clock, Norman grabbed Maisy's coat and tossed it at her. "Here, put this on and warm up my car." He tossed his keys on Maisy's desk. "It's almost two already and we haven't even had time to stop for lunch. What do you say we grab a bite somewhere?"
"Sounds great, I'm famished," Maisy said, scrambling to her feet. "Do we have enough staff to cover?"
"Yeah, Tracy and Bob will be here in a few minutes for the next shift, so any walk-ins and the phones will be covered. I'll be out in a couple of minutes, I just have a quick call to make."
***
"Have any place special in mind?" Maisy asked as Norman prepared to pull out of the parking lot."This icy weather always makes me homesick for my Grandma Gert's hearty, old-fashioned German cooking--especially her Schweinebraten, and Kartoffein with lots of gravy, m-m-m-m." Norman rubbed his stomach. "Grandma Gert made the best Apfel Kuchen I've ever tasted." Laughing, Norman wiped at his nonexistent drool. "This pin I'm wearing, with the Austrian crystals," Norman fingered the small pin he was using in place of a tie-tack, "it belonged to Gert. Anyway, some friends told me about a new German restaurant out in Naperville, called Bavaria Haus. Supposed to be good--very authentic. Want to give it a try?"
"Sure, I'm game." Shivering, Maisy tugged at her coat so that it overlapped in front of her. "I need something hearty to warm my innards." She laughed. "Of course, the only word I recognized was Kuchen, because I know that means cake." Maisy smiled. "Hmmm, do you suppose they might have some chocolate Kuchen?" She licked her lips.
"Oh, I'm reasonably certain they could scrounge up a piece of chocolate something or other." Norman nodded, smiling broadly.
"Okay, I'm sold. A little of that, along with some of whatever the heck that other stuff was you were talking about with lots of gravy sounds pretty appealing right now."
"And don't worry about your innards. Once we drink a couple of steins of good Mayfest beer, believe me, you won't be thinking anymore about the cold."
"Blech," Maisy said sticking out her tongue and shuddering. "Beer? Yuck, I hate it--never drink the stuff."
"Ah," Norman said, closing his eyes with a fond smile of recollection. "Rich, nutty, amber ale with a creamy head on top. My favorite's Mayfest Marzen--from Munich--you'll love it. I guarantee it. It's not anything like that pale, namby-pamby, American stuff they try to pass off as beer. This has
got real gusto." Norman winked. "And, besides, speaking as your mentor, appreciating a good brew is the next lesson in your quest to become more cosmopolitan, anyway."
Cringing, Maisy recalled the fool she made of herself in front of Keller with her dopey wet wine remark. Maisy slanted Norman an uncertain look. "Well, since I'm sadly in need of all the mentoring I can get," she laughed, "I suppose I should broaden my cosmopolitan horizons to include . . ." Maisy shuddered, ". . . beer."
"Good girl. Now you're talking. The trick is to take it easy. Once you get used to it, beer goes down real easy and before you know it, you're plotched and accompanying the oompah band as they play Roll out the Barrel." Hoisting an invisible beer stein, Norman kept time with the music in his head.
By the time they reached the Naperville restaurant, it was after two-thirty. Norman and the proprietors, Marta, and her muscle-bound brother, Rudy, hit it off famously once they discovered Norman's Grandma Gert was from the same region in Germany where they had lived. Given the in-between hour, Norman and Maisy were the only customers in the restaurant, so the brother and sister team pulled up a couple of chairs and joined them, plying them with plenty of free Mayfest Marzen beer, and slabs of their scrumptious, flaky apple strudel. Norman, Marta and Rudy even broke into song several times, treating Maisy to one of the most enjoyable, laugh-filled afternoons she'd had in a long time.
"What a terrific couple," Maisy said as they left the restaurant.
"I'll say." Norman jiggled his eyebrows. "Rudy wants to get together with me next week over a couple of beers."
"Rudy? You mean . . .?"
Shipping Sharon Page 9
