by Lee McKenzie
Considering his own upbringing, he was being a bit judgmental. Besides, he could see where they were coming from. They had two great kids and if he was ever lucky enough to be in their position, he’d want the best for them, too. Just not the way his parents had done it. All the material stuff in the world didn’t make up for disinterest and a complete lack of love and affection. John seemed to be doing a good job of providing everything.
“Where’d you get the plans?” he asked.
“Allison found them on the internet. She wanted something that would be safe for the kids but not damage the tree.”
“Then I’d say this is perfect. And it’s good that the plans are so detailed.” Nick did his best to hide his amusement as he flipped through to the end. Yes, very detailed. All forty pages. No wonder John seemed so overwhelmed. “Lots of work, though.”
“Yeah.”
“If you’d like a hand—”
Maggie appeared at his side and hooked her arm through his. “We probably can’t stay too long. We should get back to my place and finish the, ah, painting. Right?”
Painting? What was she talking about? Nick opened his mouth and closed it again. This was her way of letting him know they should let Allison and John work through this on their own, as a couple. And, of course, she was right.
“I can help you get the anchor bolts and crossbraces in place,” Nick said. “That’s probably the trickiest part. The rest looks pretty straightforward.”
Half an hour later, the supports for the tree house were in place. John walked with him back to the table where Maggie sat with Allison and the kids. “Thanks. This was a big help.”
“No problem. It’s pretty much what I do for a living, so it’s no big deal.”
“I don’t know about that,” John said. “Must be pretty rewarding to be able to look back at the end of the day and see everything you’ve accomplished.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“So, I’ll probably see you next weekend at Gerald’s bachelor party?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Nick lied. Unless he had to have an emergency appendectomy or something.
A guy could always hope.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“THAT WAS FUN,” Maggie said as she and Nick carried the dishes into her kitchen. “And it’s good to see Allison and John getting along so well.”
Nick gave her an odd look. “Were they having problems?”
Oops. She should have chosen her words more carefully. She’d promised Allison she wouldn’t say anything about the situation between her and John. “I just meant that it’s great to see married couples that get along.” Like we would, she thought.
“I see.” He didn’t look altogether convinced, but at least he seemed willing to drop the subject. “I should probably get going.”
She was glad she’d figured out a way to get him to come over that afternoon. They were back on friendly terms again and she intended to keep it that way. In fact, everything was working out perfectly.
Nick was involved with his family again.
The spell for Allison and John had literally worked overnight.
Nick and John were getting along very well. So well that Maggie suspected they’d become friends again. Not like his and Brent’s friendship, but friends.
Face it, Maggie. You are good.
“So, you’re going to Gerald’s bachelor party next weekend?” she asked.
“Looks that way.”
Maggie walked with him to the front door. “It sounds like fun.”
“About as much fun as a trip to the dentist.”
“You never know. Maybe a woman will jump out of a giant cake.”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, I live for stuff like that. But since the groom is marrying my sister, that better not happen.”
Maggie liked seeing Nick in overprotective big-brother mode. He cared a lot more about his family than he wanted to let on. “Is Leslie having a bachelorette party?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a bridal shower. My mother wouldn’t attend anything as scandalous as a bachelorette party. Weren’t you invited?”
“No. I’ve only met your sister once, at the barbecue, so there’s no reason I should have been. But if that party was anything to go by, Leslie chose the perfect person to be her maid of honor. I’m sure the shower will be wonderful.” In fact, if she was ever in need of a maid of honor, maybe she’d ask Allison.
“I’m pretty sure my mother is organizing it, which means the only thing Allison has to do is show up and do what she’s told.”
“Your mother sounds formidable.”
“Only when she’s organizing something or meddling in somebody else’s business. Which is pretty much all the time so, yeah, she’s formidable.”
“I’m sure she means well.”
Nick’s laugh had no mirth in it. “Let me know if you still feel that way after you’ve met her.”
Time to drop that subject, Maggie decided. It didn’t do any good to dwell on how much he and his mother didn’t get along. She leaned against the wall, just inside the front door. “So, see you on Monday?”
“Definitely. What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked.
Now that the spells were out of the way and she’d patched things up with Nick, she finally had time to focus on her business. “I want to work on some new products for the spa. What about you?”
Nick hooked his thumb into the pocket of his jeans and placed his other hand on the wall above her shoulder, bracing his body close to hers. “I have a few things in mind.”
“Oh.” She liked the way his closeness made her feel so secure.
“So, I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Unless there’s a real plaster disaster and you need me here sooner.”
She also loved that he could make her laugh. “I don’t think there’ll be a disaster.”
“But you never know.” He inched closer.
“No. You never do.” She felt a little breathless.
He gave her a quick, light kiss. “That’s what I wanted to do last night.”
“I know.”
He kissed her again. “But you were too busy.”
“Yes, I was.”
“So what were you doing last night that was more important than this?”
She opened her eyes and tried to focus. “It’s a secret.”
He withdrew a little and gave her one of his intense looks.
“It’s a good secret. When the time is right, I’ll tell you all about it.”
He seemed to relax a little. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Then I’ll just have to be patient, won’t I?” His hand wasn’t on the wall anymore. It was stroking the side of her head and doing magical, shivery things to that tender spot just behind her ear.
“You’re making it very difficult for me to leave,” he said finally.
“You’re making it hard to let you go.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”
“Yes. You just kissed me.”
“I meant with us.”
“I know what you meant.” But how was she supposed to answer that question? By saying, “I think I might be falling in love with you”? How fast would he run if she made that confession? “I’m not sure what’s going on. Maybe we shouldn’t try to analyze it.”
“Maybe not.” He kissed her again. Lightly, playfully. “I try to have a strict policy about mixing business with—”
Monkey business?
Before she could stop herself, Maggie pushed him away. Aunt Margaret? Not now!
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. But I think you’re right. Mixing business and...” She paused while she cast a hasty glance around the front hall. “Mixing business and monkey business is never a good idea.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “You reminded me of your aunt just then. She used to get after me an
d Brent all the time. ‘Gentlemen, I’ve had enough of your monkey business,’ she used to tell us. Can’t say I blame her, either. We were a couple of bad a—”
Maggie quickly covered his mouth with her hand. “I wouldn’t say that word if I were you.”
Nick’s eyes went narrow and he gave her a long, questioning look. “O-kay. You expect me to believe she’s here? Right now?”
“Well...”
“Come on, Maggie. You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, Nick, this is not a good time to question these things.”
He gave the ceiling a long, deliberate look. Then he glanced over one shoulder, then the other. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. She’s here.” His mouth arched into a mischievous grin. “So, Miss Meadowcroft, how’s this for monkey business?”
Before Maggie could stop him, he kissed her again. The kiss alone would have shocked even the most broad-minded spinster aunt, so who knew what she thought when a pair of big, strong hands slid into the pockets on the back of Maggie’s jeans.
He ended the kiss and looked down at her, his eyes smoked with passion, but there was still no mistaking the humor. “If I’m being sent to the detention hall, I’m going to make it worth my while. Nobody knows that better than your aunt.”
And then he was gone.
“Aunt Margaret?” Maggie asked shakily, after she closed the door. “Are you still here?”
Her question was answered by her aunt’s deep, rich chuckle. I always liked that boy.
Maggie waited for the “but” that was almost certainly attached to that comment, only it never came.
“Aunt Margaret?”
But it seemed she was gone, too.
Now that’s interesting, Maggie thought. Her aunt approved of Nick. What if there was a chance that he had real feelings for her? More real than just wanting to make out every time they were alone? There was no denying what she felt for him. She wished he was still here.
Why did she have so much trouble figuring out her own situation when it was so easy to see what other people needed? And why couldn’t she just enjoy a casual relationship instead of falling for the wrong guy, again?
* * *
NICK DUCKED OUT of the private room at the country club and headed for his truck. He wasn’t a big fan of bachelor parties under the best of circumstances and this one had not gone well. He’d arrived late and had been there maybe a half hour when the lady in the cake showed up. John had seemed as uncomfortable as Nick was, but since he was the best man, he was expected to stick it out. It had taken Nick less than fifteen seconds to decide he didn’t want to hang around and watch Gerald drool over the woman.
For the life of him he didn’t know what Leslie saw in the guy, but she was capable of making her own decisions. He was already uneasy about seeing Gerald and Candice together at the barbecue. It’s not as though he was the only guy she’d been throwing herself at. At first he’d thought John was messing around with her, but after seeing him with his wife last Saturday, he knew that wasn’t the case. So he was probably wrong about Gerald, too.
He decided to drive around a bit instead of going home and the next thing he knew, he was on Maggie’s street. Should he stop? Why not? He and Maggie were friends, and friends dropped in on each other.
A week had passed since Maggie had invented the plaster disaster. Nick had come to the conclusion, though, that he really needed to keep his hands to himself until this job was finished. Everything was falling into place and if things continued to go well and all the subcontractors showed up when they said they would, he and Brent should be finished in another week.
Which meant that by the time Leslie’s wedding rolled around next Saturday, he would no longer be Maggie’s contractor.
And she would no longer be his client.
They would just be friends. Or maybe they would be more than friends. In a week, as soon as he finished the work on Maggie’s house, he’d know for sure.
One week. Seven days. He could wait that long. Tonight would just be about two people being friends.
Maggie answered the door and to his surprise, she was looking very formal, in a somber sort of way. “Sorry. I should know better than to show up unannounced. You look like you’re going out.”
“Oh, no, I’m staying in tonight.”
In that get-up? She was wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked black dress that ended halfway between her knees and her ankles. The severe-looking garment was offset somewhat by the pearls and by her hair, which hung loose around her shoulders instead of being wound up and pinned at the back of her head the way she normally wore it. He’d never seen her hair down, and he liked it. A lot.
The dress was another matter. The dress was awful.
“Are you expecting someone?” He wondered who that might be and felt a little stab of jealousy. “I should have called first.”
“No, I’m not expecting anyone but I’m glad you’re here. I brought Aunt Margaret’s ashes home from the crematorium this week and I was just going to have a little ceremony in her honor. You’re just in time to join me.”
She stepped aside and waited.
A ceremony for Miss Meadowcroft’s ashes? He should have stayed at the bachelor party.
“A ceremony sounds interesting.” Not. “What do you have in mind?” If she said séance, he was out of here. It was one thing to pay his respects to his old high-school English teacher. Conjuring up her spirit when he’d really hoped to make out with her niece was something else again. Miss Meadowcroft would see right through him.
“Do you know how to make a gin gimlet?” Maggie asked.
“What?”
“A gin gimlet. It was Aunt Margaret’s favorite drink. I thought it would be good to drink a toast to her. She’d like that. And she liked gin gimlets, so that seems to be the obvious choice, don’t you think?”
Nick was pretty sure she wouldn’t want to know what he was thinking. “If I remember correctly, it’s just gin and sweetened lime juice.”
“Oooh. I think you’re right. There’s a bottle of lime cordial in the fridge. I’ll bet that’s what she used it for.” She grabbed his hand and he liked the firmness of her hold on him. “There was a bottle of gin in the sideboard. I put it away in the kitchen before I moved the furniture upstairs.”
He allowed himself to be led down the hallway. Oh, well, he’d come this far.
She climbed up on a step stool and handed him the gin from the top shelf of a cupboard.
He set the bottle on the counter. “Do you have a cocktail shaker?” he asked.
“Aunt Margaret had one. It’s here someplace.” Maggie stood on her toes and moved things around in the cupboard. The stool wobbled as she leaned to reach the next cupboard. Nick stepped closer, ready to catch her if she fell.
“Here it is!” She smiled down at him and passed him an old glass-and-chrome shaker.
He held Maggie’s hand as she stepped down off the stool, then he set the cocktail shaker on the counter next to the gin while she retrieved the lime juice and some ice.
“Is this everything you need?” she asked.
“We’ll need a glass.”
“Of course.” She opened another cupboard. “I have this,” she said, holding out one of the tumblers she used for serving lemonade.
“A little big,” he said. “Anything smaller?”
Glasses clanked as she moved them around. “Oo-ooh. This looks elegant.” She produced a martini glass and put the tumbler back in the cupboard.
Nick filled the shaker with ice and measured equal amounts of gin and lime cordial.
“Where did you learn to make gimlets?” she asked.
“You’d be surprised what a kid can pick up hanging around the bar at one of his mother’s countless parties.”
Maggie watched closely as he put the top on the shaker and shook it.
“Don’t bruise the gin,” she warned him.
He stopped shaking. “What?”
“Don’t bruise the gin. That’s what
Aunt Margaret always used to say.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
She grinned. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Right. He shook the container more gently, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that the ghost of Miss Meadowcroft would smack him across the knuckles with her ruler if he dared bruise the gin. He strained the gimlet into the glass and handed it to Maggie. The drink was a revolting shade of green. He suspected it might even glow in the dark.
“Did I tell you that people have already started to book appointments at the spa?”
“I don’t think you did, but that’s good news.”
“I thought so, too. I’ve been dropping off flyers around town, advertising my grand opening, and the first two days are already booked.”
“Come on.” Maggie took his hand. “I put her ashes on the mantel in the living room. That’s where I’ll keep her after the renovations are finished.”
She chattered on about the spa’s instant success, and once again he followed her, resisting the urge to ask where she planned to keep her aunt in the interim.
Maggie had obviously spent some time clearing away the construction debris and there on the freshly dusted mantel, between two vases filled with pink and white roses, stood a silver urn.
He shuddered. Never in a million years could he have imagined himself standing in Maggie’s living room, about to a toast a woman who had seen to it that he’d spent a considerable amount of his adolescence in the detention hall.
But Maggie was in her element. She stood next to him and raised the glass.
“To Aunt Margaret. One of the dearest, funniest people in the world.”
Nick glanced down at her. Was she serious?
“This will always be your home and you’re welcome here anytime. Thank you for giving it to me and sorry for making so many changes right away, but it’s going to be beautiful, just wait and see.”
Nick shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. He stared at the drink in her hand, watching the liquid sway from side to side.
“Thank you for always being there for me. I’ll always remember the wonderful times we had together, laughing and telling stories.”
