The Man She Knew
Page 8
The kids again. If only Eliot could see Ian now.
“They’ll all be disappointed if you aren’t there.”
“I’ll think about it...” She’d planned to complete a few household chores. If time allowed, Maleah would place an order with her favorite nursery, too, to ensure delivery of the prettiest plants for her gardens and flower pots.
He stepped into the hall, turning to say, “I hope you can make it. Like I said, it’s no big deal. Just a chance for the volunteers to get to know one another better, since not all of them have a chance to work together. Come as you are. Six o’clock in the banquet room.”
“I’ll try.”
“You have to eat anyway, so why not save yourself the bother of cooking and cleaning up?”
“Frozen pizza and TV dinners don’t require either,” she said, grinning.
“Well, it’s up to you.” He shrugged. “But just remember...fried chicken...my very own recipe.”
“I’ll try,” she repeated.
“‘Do or do not,’” he said, quoting a movie line, “‘there is no try.’”
And with that, Ian disappeared, leaving Maleah to wonder why she couldn’t wait until six o’clock rolled around.
CHAPTER NINE
IAN HAD BEEN bent over the bistro’s checkbook for half an hour when a soft knock interrupted his concentration.
“Sylvestry!” said a booming baritone voice. “Why haven’t we seen you down on Russell Street?”
He endured the wide receiver’s powerful handshake. “Working on this Kids First stuff,” Ian said. “Fun. Fulfilling, too. But time-consuming.”
“Ain’t that the way it is with all fund-raisers?” Angus Miller, known as Marshmallow—Marsh for short—slapped Ian’s back.
Ian had worked with the team, raising money for a variety of the players’ favorite charities...including one that helped find jobs and living quarters for recently released convicts.
“Hungry? I could wrestle you up a sandwich or something...”
“Thanks, but I can’t stay.” He took an envelope out of his shirt pocket and held it out. As Ian reached for it, Marsh said, “Why isn’t your name on the list of people attending the gala?” In a word: Maleah. He’d promised her—and himself—a strictly business association.
“Too much to do,” he said. “This place doesn’t run itself, y’know.”
“Yeah, well, I talked with Gladys today. She’s a live wire, but you probably know that better than I do.”
Ian failed to see what his aunt had to do with anything.
“She wants to attend the shindig, but doesn’t have a date.”
Surely this giant of a guy wasn’t asking permission to date his elderly aunt!
“I can’t go,” Marsh said, handing over the envelope. “Paid big bucks for these tickets, and even though the money is for a good cause, I’d hate to see them go to waste.”
“Ah. So you want me to escort my aunt. To a black-tie affair.” Ian laughed. “Can you see me in a monkey suit—cummerbund and ruffled shirt—with all these tattoos, an earring and this hair?”
“Hey. If I can squeeze all two hundred forty pounds of me into a tux, you can wear one, too.” He punctuated the statement with another slap to the back. “Besides, don’t you owe it to your aunt?”
Not many people knew the extent to which Gladys had helped him. The truth came out early in their friendship, when Marsh’s no-nonsense lecture changed Ian’s attitude from self-pitying to self-motivating. And anyway, the only thing she liked better than getting all gussied up was rubbing elbows with big shots like Marsh.
“You make a good point.” Grinning, Ian said, “But I’m still gonna look like a freak. I don’t own a pair of patent leather shoes.”
“You can rent ’em. I’ll throw in an extra twenty bucks.”
“Don’t add insult to injury, Marsh. Okay. Fine. I’ll go.” He peeked into the envelope.
Only two weeks until the gala...his last legitimate excuse to see Maleah. “Well,” he muttered, “all good things must come to an end.”
“What’s that? You’re not trying to worm your way out of it already, I hope.”
“Nah. It’s just...” Ian pocketed the tickets. “There’s this girl. We were tight, real tight, before I was sent away. Hadn’t seen her in years, and then...” He snapped his fingers. “There she was, on the banquet room dance floor, in the arms of another guy.”
“Life goes on, huh? Bummer. But help me understand, bro. What’s this girl have to do with the gala?”
“Everything. She’s Maleah in-charge-of-all-things-Kids First.”
Marsh nodded. “But I don’t see the problem.”
“Neither of us expected to work together. She was nice enough about it, but made it pretty clear that when things wrapped up, she expected me to disappear again.”
“And you took a vow or somethin’?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’re obviously still boots over Harley helmet in love with her. You know the old saying, ‘All’s fair in love and war.’”
“I so much as think about starting things up again, there will be a war...between her family and me. And before you say I’m nuts, you need to know that her grandfather, father and two brothers are cops.”
Marsh winced. “Gotcha. They don’t want their girl fraternizing with a known felon. Ex-felon.”
“Something like that.”
“Wait just a minute... The two of you were a thing before you went to Lincoln?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So she isn’t a girl, Ian. She’s a full-grown woman. You don’t need anybody’s permission to start things up again. Except hers, of course.”
As if Ian hadn’t thought of that a couple thousand times over the years. He didn’t feel like getting into it with Marsh. Or anyone else for that matter. Maleah deserved a guy with a clean slate, who could make her proud. Ian wasn’t that guy. Not by a long shot. Not in her eyes, anyway. Could he change that? Memory of how it had felt every time his letters were returned, unopened, made him wonder why he even wanted to.
“Thanks for these, Marsh. But just so you know, Gladys is likely to bake you a couple thousand chocolate chip cookies to show her appreciation.”
Laughing, Marsh patted his stomach. “Tell her I’m on a diet until the season ends. She’s a fan. She’ll get it.” He gripped Ian’s hand again, and gave it a good shake. “Good to see you, Sylvestry. Don’t be such a stranger downtown. You know the team schedule.”
From halfway down the hall, Ian heard “And don’t wait until the last minute to get fitted for a tux.”
He took out his phone searched for “Tuxedos, Fells Point, Maryland.” As the list populated, his chef appeared in the doorway.
“Hey,” Dan said. “We’re ready in the banquet room. What time should I have Lee write on the cake?”
It had been a last-minute decision to add cake to the menu. If Maleah showed up, Lee could pipe Happy Birthday in pink icing. If not, well, dessert was dessert, right? He’d put a lot of thought into the cake’s design. Three layers of chocolate separated by raspberry jam and white buttercream icing, topped off with more buttercream and trimmed with a decorative frosting rope. Too bad he hadn’t come up with a way to explain why he’d decided to add Early Birthday Party to the volunteer get-together. Sure doesn’t go with your arms’ length strategy... “I’ll let you know once we have a head count.”
Dan smirked. “Once you find out if the birthday girl is gonna show up, you mean.”
Ian had worked hard at being above-board with everyone, his staff in particular. But sometimes—and this was one of them—he wished he’d held his cards a little closer to the vest. A whole lot closer.
“Hope the DJ can play something besides rap,” Dan said. “Took me thr
ee days to kick the headache from the last shindig.”
“Made a point of hiring a guy that plays a variety of styles.”
“So everything is set up, huh?” Dan checked his watch. “Folks will be here soon.”
Bad idea to hope that included Maleah, and yet...
“Okay. I can take a hint.” Dan headed for the kitchen. “Should I text you when people start showing up?”
“Nah. I have to finish paying the bills. Stamping envelopes. Filing the statements.”
“You could save a lot of time doing all that online, y’know.”
“So I’ve heard.” Half an hour later, he stood in the mirror, trying to decide whether or not to fulfill Gladys’s “When are you going to shave that beard!” request. He opted for a trim, since the whole reason he’d grown it was to hide the vicious scar inflicted when he’d defended a new guy from four hefty prisoners.
He’d changed his clothes three times. Polished his bike boots. Opened the pricey aftershave his dad had given him for Christmas the year before last. All that in preparation for seeing someone who probably wouldn’t be coming. Y’big dope.
An hour after that, nearly forty guests sat around the banquet room, laughing as they munched crispy chicken and creamy mashed potatoes. As instructed, the DJ kept the sound turned down to encourage conversation. There was just one thing missing...
And then, as if in response to an unspoken wish, she appeared in the doorway, wearing jeans, knee-high brown boots, and a waist-hugging sapphire sweater. She’d twisted her hair into a bun, and the golden, windblown curls hiding her ears made her appear ten years younger—as if she needed any help in that department.
He crossed the room to welcome her, and saw that she’d applied a light coat of shadow that exactly matched her blue eyes. For an instant, Ian didn’t know what to say.
“You trimmed your beard,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. “Looks nice.”
“I, ah, thanks. You look good, too.”
He took her elbow. “There are a couple seats over there,” he said, leading her away from the DJ booth. “Close to the food, not too close to the speakers.”
Terri and Avery waved and smiled as she approached their table.
“Good stuff,” the boy said, waving a golden drumstick. “Better get some before it’s gone!”
Coral-tinted lips spread in an easy smile that made his heart thump.
Ian pulled out her chair. “Have a seat. I’ll fix you a plate.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Of course you are. Just humor me, okay?”
Why are you doing this? was the question in her big eyes. To be honest, Ian had no idea. He only knew that if he hadn’t found a valid excuse to walk away, right then, he might have kissed her instead.
How would he walk away—and stay away when the Kids First festivities ended—when it hurt like crazy, just being across the room from her!
Ian handed her the plate, a napkin and flatware. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Water will do.”
“You’re sure? We have sodas, sweet tea, lemonade, wine and beer...”
“You must really want her to like you,” Avery said, snickering.
Maleah laughed. Oh how Ian loved the sound of it. If he thought for a minute he could inspire that, every day for the rest of her life...
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Terri asked.
There was just one available chair, right beside Maleah’s. “Maybe later. Let me check on a few things first.”
Ian made the rounds, picking up empty plates, asking if the guests needed refills...far enough away to pretend he was busy, close enough to hear Avery asking questions: How long had she worked at Washburne? Did she have brothers and sisters? Could she cook, and was her chicken as good as Ian’s? Maleah held her own, answering as if being interviewed by a TV reporter... Until the boy said “Are you divorced, like my mom?”
She blinked. Pressed a palm to her throat. Ian held his breath, half expecting her to say something like a criminal ruined me for men and romance forever.
Instead, Maleah said, “I’d make a terrible wife.”
“Why?” the boy wanted to know.
“I work too many hours, for one thing. And I’m oh-so-fussy about...about everything.”
Nodding, Avery said, “Just like Mom. Put something where it doesn’t go, and hoo-boy.”
Terri laughed. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
“Worse!” her son teased.
“You just need the right man to come along,” Terri said knowingly. Maleah shook her head.
If this wasn’t one of those if only the floor would open up moments, Ian didn’t know what was.
On the off-chance she looked up, looked at him, Ian put his back to her. It would be hard enough, hearing her agree with the boy. Seeing her face when she did...
“Hey, Ian!” Dan called from the kitchen. “Time for dessert?”
The chef winked and pointed to the cake, balanced on his big palm.
“Sure.” He didn’t much feel like going through the motions of announcing her birthday, grinning while everyone sang. Too late to get out of it now, he thought. In minutes, Lee would add the birthday message to the cake. Minutes after that, the wait-and kitchen staff would gather, waiting for Ian to make a brief speech in her honor.
Ian groaned under his breath and headed for the DJ’s booth. “Need to borrow your mic for a minute,” he said. “Get the Happy Birthday song queued up...”
He grabbed a butter knife from the nearest table and, clinking it against the rim of the DJ’s tumbler, waited for the crowd to quiet down.
“Hope you’re all having a good time,” he said. And when the group finished complimenting the food, the chef, the wait staff, Ian continued with, “Glad you’ve had a chance to get to know one another a little better. You’re all working hard to make the Kids First events a big hit. I have an announcement to make...”
Oohs and ahhs were followed by inquisitive chatter, which ended when Ian said, “There’s a very special person here tonight. And we want to help her celebrate a very special event.”
Everyone glanced around.
Ian signaled Dan, who sent Lee into the banquet room, carrying a candle-lit cake emblazoned with Happy Birthday Maleah.
“Maleah, we’d like to thank you. Without your leadership, Kids First wouldn’t be such a roaring success.”
Her cheeks glowed bright with an embarrassed blush. In the old days, she’d hide behind her hands when caught by surprise. Instead, she rested her chin on folded hands.
Ian signaled the DJ, who started up the birthday song. Within seconds, everyone joined in.
Ian only mouthed the words. Because one week to the day after they celebrated her birthday, all those years ago, two burly cops slapped cuffs on him and tossed him into a paddy wagon...yet another reason she belonged with a good man, and not a guy whose past could rise up to haunt her, shame her, at any given moment.
The song ended with a round of applause and several men yelling “Speech! Speech!”
To his surprise, Maleah grabbed the microphone.
“My birthday isn’t for another week yet,” she began, “so I’m touched by this sweet surprise. Thank you, not only for the cake, but for everything you’re doing to make Kids First a huge success. Your hard work shows, and I think we’re going to see quite a profit when all is said and done. Already, we’ve banked more contributions than ever before, and I don’t have to tell you what a big difference the donations will make in the lives of kids on the spectrum. You’re wonderful. All of you. And I hope to have the pleasure of working with you again.”
Her hand was shaking when she handed the mic back to the DJ. She made a beeline to her chair. That’s when she hid behind her hands, as she
had when he called her pretty, or smart, or sweet...or told her how much he loved her.
Who was he kidding? He loved her, still, and always would. Ian hadn’t felt this sorry for himself in a long, long time.
He ducked into his office and hoped he could get his emotions under control before anyone noticed he was missing.
CHAPTER TEN
MALEAH HADN’T SEEN Ian since the night of the party. A good thing. But it wasn’t like him to miss meetings, or send someone in his place to perform assignments and deal with the media. Had he caught one of the viruses that had been floating around?
“A decent person would pick up the phone and ask,” she muttered.
“What’s that?” Vern wanted to know.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Her neighbor laughed. “Again?”
“It’s one way to ensure someone’s listening,” she joked back.
“I’d listen...if you talked louder. And didn’t mumble.”
Just a few months ago, their exchanges amounted to little more than the courteous waves and nods of strangers. These days, it seemed Maleah talked more to Vern than to any of the Turners.
“So what brings you outside on this cold dark night?” he wanted to know.
“Just needed a little fresh air.”
“Ah, the boyfriend again, eh?”
She’d never called Ian a boyfriend, not even in the past, and no matter how many times she stressed the point, Vern insisted on referring to Ian that way.
“He hasn’t shown up for anything Kids First–related in over a week and I’m concerned he might be sick. This close to the gala, we need all hands on deck at Washburne.”
“Your phone only takes incoming calls?”
Maleah pulled her coat tighter around her.
“You’re in charge of things down there. If you’re afraid to make the call yourself, assign the task to an assistant.”
“I suppose I could...”
“Sure. That way, no need to get all lovey-dovey and personal, but you’ll have your answer.”
Maleah nodded again.