Jorja & Malcolm (Toffee Kisses Book 1)
Page 9
The truth of the matter was that Bob was happy.
He didn’t like how he got to where he was in life; but now that he was here, he was, finally happy.
The call from Cydney, a few days earlier, was a pleasant surprise. For the first time, in a long time, Bob thought about the possibility of meeting his daughter, Jorja. Maybe, this time, it would happen!
Over the past twenty four years, there had been several opportunities, but each one was dashed by his former wife. And, truth be told, he had just stood by and let it happen. In the last five years, though, his life had changed radically.
Bob stopped his musings to direct an elderly couple to the aisle where house signs were sold. Being a fairly short man, he had to hop back up on his chair and just settled in with his stack of flyers, when he saw Cydney.
As always, she was a vision. She was Grace Kelly and Ann-Margaret, with a hint of Audrey Hepburn. He had seen her many times over the years, but as always, his heart leapt when he saw her.
“Hi Bob,” she said simply. She then leaned forward and gave him a quick hug. “When is your next break?” she asked.
“He can go now,” the woman on the Customer Service Desk called out. “I’ve got you covered, Bob; see you in fifteen or so!” she added.
Shortly afterwards, Cydney began telling Bob, “But what Jenny and Crawford don’t know, is that Jorja texted me, well before this recent adoption crisis, and asked if she can room with me!”
“That is, if she gets accepted into Nursing School,” Bob added.
“Right. The only potential stumbling block; is her Biology. She’ll ace the essay and math portion of the application, but she needs to upgrade her Biology. She only has grade ten; and I’m a little worried for her.”
“I’m just surprised she was able to keep this a secret from her parents!” Bob said.
“Me too, Bob. Jorja is so impulsive! But I think all the time she spent visiting my Mom in the Nursing home and then, after Mom died, she continued to visit and develop her friendships there, helped her to be more introspective. Plus her friendship with Malcolm has certainly helped. I’d really like to meet him!”
“I wonder if that relationship is ever going to get off the ground.” Bob asked. “They’ve been ‘friends’ for quite some time now. Do you think he’s waiting for her to grow up a bit?”
“Oh, good point. And you know, Bob, some relationships take, um, decades to mature.”
Bob chuckled softly. “I think this is going to be a good thing, Cydney. Let me know how I can help. This next year is going to be so exciting! We just have to wait and see how it all turns out.”
“And we are good at waiting, aren’t we Bob?” she said with a sad smile.
Jesse Spelunker was very good at waiting. He had spent months waiting until he had enough money for yet another ‘self-improvement’ surgery. Then he spent many more months recovering from the surgeries and waiting until he could look in the mirror and like what he saw. So he was an old hand at setting a goal and seeing it through; no matter how long it took. His new goal involved Jorja.
He was satisfied with his current appearance and his delivery job and with his larcenous sideline; he even had money in the bank. He just needed someone to share his life with. And, of course, to admire him and his accomplishments.
Jesse still thought Jorja was the one. Oh, he would wait for her! The way she had smiled at him at the Ok Corral when they talked about the diablo rojo squid and the way she had flirted with him at the Bistro had told him she was totally into him. But the Art Gallery date rather bombed. Jesse shook his head. Probably too many adoring females around him and Jorja got jealous.
At this point, Jesse got out his phone and spoke into it. “Contact Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor for Jorja. Have her checked for nodes on her vocal cords.”
And the flower delivery! Jesse winced at the memory. But then he quickly chuckled; consoling himself with the thought that parents do tend to be overprotective. Yes, he really must have a heart to heart with Jorja; once she really understood the surgical possibilities, she would be open to change. And she’d drop that bald-headed Nurse like last week’s sushi!
An unpleasant thought wrinkled his otherwise perfect brow. What if the Nurse wouldn’t leave his Jorja alone?
Jesse pursed his lips and looked at the cutting shears in his hand. “These could be very persuasive,” he said aloud.
“Malcolm! Malcolm, over here!” yelled Mrs. Beetle. She held her Bingo dabber in one hand, and motioned wildly with the other for Malcolm to occupy the seat next to her.
Malcolm was utterly perplexed. He had no idea who this elderly woman was, but she seemed pleasant enough and clearly knew his name. He sat down beside her and accepted the marker she thrust in his hand.
“He just called G58,” Mrs. Beetle said, “Look! You’ve got one. Mark it, quick Malcolm, dot the spot!
“Make them wait; number 58!” the volunteer called.
Malcolm dutifully hit the spot on the paper in front of him. “What about the person who was sitting here?” he asked as he continued to search his memory for this vivacious elderly woman beside him.
The little lady winked at him and said “A sudden need for a bathroom break; old man, prostate issues; he’ll be awhile. I’m Mrs. Beetle, by the way, Jorja’s friend.”
“Ah! The black velvet artist! I love my painting Mrs. Beetle!”
“Unlucky for some…” the volunteer called.
“It’s B 13; you’ve got it! You’ve got it Malcolm!”
Malcolm hit the spot with the marker, just as “Bingo” was yelled by a player further down the table.
“Darn the luck,” said Mrs. Beetle. She crumpled up her sheets of Bingo cards and quickly turned to Malcolm. “So when are you going to make an honest woman out of her?” she asked pointing to where Jorja stood chatting with the Nurse at the Care Station.
Malcolm grinned and waggled an imaginary cigar. “Madam, I haven’t made a dishonest woman out of her yet.”
“Well you better hop to it; neither one of you are getting any younger, you know,” advised Mrs. Beetle.
Malcolm copied Mrs. Beetle’s arrangement of Bingo sheets and said “I have been thinking along those lines myself. I’m working on coming up with the perfect first date.”
Mrs. Beetle frowned at him. “Oh the first date doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. What’s really important is the first kiss! A woman remembers everything about where she was for the first kiss from the man she loves. Over sixty years ago and I remember exactly where I was when the late Mr. Beetle kissed me for the first time,” she said staunchly.
“And where were you?” Malcolm asked, and then added, “I’m guessing from your accent, somewhere in England?”
Mrs. Beetle smiled. “We were behind his car. Yup; it was a pretty lackluster setting.” She elbowed Malcolm and said “But not a lack luster performance. But still, the car…with the trunk up. I think we were getting a vacuum out to return to his Sister.”
A new Bingo caller sat down and held up his first number.
“Under the eye, thirty,” he intoned.
“Dirty Gertie!” Mrs. Beetle yelled as she smacked her card.
“Mrs. Beetle, I had no idea Bingo was such a violent game!” Malcolm said dramatically. “I’m curious, what do you get if you win?”
Mrs. Beetle leaned in to Malcolm and rolled her shoulder. “A free bath,” she said seductively.
Malcolm stopped and looked at her wide eyed.
“I’m in!” he said and started dabbing every number on his sheet.
Mrs. Beetle roared with laughter!
Jorja looked up from the reference letter Nurse Kathy had written for her.
“It looks like I’ve lost the love of my life to the Bingo game; oh well, it was fun while it lasted,” she lamented.
Nurse Kathy smirked and added, “Have you forgotten Jorja; Mrs. Beetle is a widow? She makes eyes at all the men! You better go claim Malcolm before it’s too late!”
> As Jorja made a beeline to the Bingo table, she walked into a man heading towards the exit. He was the Connelly Art Gallery Manager.
“Frew!” said Jorja dropping her papers.
“Teapot!” he answered as he helped her collect her study guides and the reference letter.
“So sorry to meet by accident; but I really enjoyed your show the other night. It was utterly fantastic! I’m Jorja by the way,” she said extending her hand.
“Yes, I know who you are Jorja Clark! I’ve seen your portraits around here and I even saw your show at the Rotary Center. What did you call the type of landscapes you featured?”
“I call them my fractured watercolours. First I took photos of the flora and fauna on the beach; put them up on my computer…”
“Like what your Dad does?” Elmer Frew asked.
“Oh, you know Dad too?” Jorja asked surprised.
“Anyone in the local art world knows Crawford Clark and his paintings of vibrant, crazy houses! Plus, I read in the local counsel minutes that your parents are applying to have an official road sign pointing the way to his studio. But back to you, is it a Sharpie you then apply over top of your watercolours?” he asked.
“Yes, exactly. It started one day when a painting I did of kelp looked a little bland. It needed something. I started outlining the painting of the seaweed with the black felt pen and I just liked the effect. It kind of reminded me of a stained glass window. Even the motion of my little swirls is soothing.” Jorja smiled self-consciously.
Elmer Frew nodded and then gave a small wave. “Well, I’m on my way; nice visiting with you.” He walked all the way to the exit, then stopped for a minute and scratched his head.
Jorja figured he forgot the code to get out and wrote the numbers on a slip of paper while walking. She nearly bumped into Elmer again as he approached her.
“Can I give you a little advice?” he asked her.
Jorja let out a little groan. “Sure,” she said looking over at Mrs. Beetle. “I have it on good authority that I should try to see myself as others see me. Lay it on me, Frew!”
Chapter Eight:
Or finally they kissed and the police were called
Elmer Frew pointed toward a portrait displayed in a shadow box outside the room of a Resident of Glenrosa Nursing Home. “Clearly, you not only knew your subject, but you loved her. Look at the light in her eyes, and the mischievousness in her smile!”
Jorja smiled. “Oh she’s still a going concern for sure!”
Elmer continued. “Now think of your landscapes; do you see the difference? It’s not your subject matter; it’s your connection to the person place or thing you are painting. With your Rotary Center show, I saw a lot of people looking at your paintings for a long time; but not connecting.”
Jorja twisted up her smile. “Yeah, nobody bought a thing. So what you’re saying, I think, is that I was too busy decorating not creating.” Jorja rubbed her chin. “I can see that. The first few paintings I did, I loved; but then I just started banging them out…without the joy. Say, Elmer Frew, did you sell any paintings at your show on Friday? You know the one I gave an impromptu concert at?”
Elmer turned even redder than his hair. “I did, actually,” he said. “There was even a bit of a bidding war over my interpretation of Leda and the Swan. Who knew biker shorts and sports bras would be such a hit?”
“Oh I loved that one!” Jorja said enthusiastically, “but my favorite was Mona Lisa as a fast food employee! I must say, that on her, a hair net looks exquisite!”
Elmer giggled and quickly looked at his watch. “I’m picking up my dear wife from work; but give some consideration to combining your portraits with your fractured watercolour technique. Say, you should drop by my studio sometime. My wife is always saying I should mentor an apprentice! Hope to see you again!”
Jorja was incredibly pleased with the invitation. It was her nature to want to dash over right now; but she was out with Malcolm. Malcolm! What sort of nonsense was Mrs. Beetle feeding him? She looked over and saw that Malcolm was on his antique flip phone, but Mrs. Beetle was still talking a mile a minute to him.
Malcolm breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw Jorja waving at the end of the table. He gave Mrs. Beetle a quick hug and said solemnly, “I must now relinquish my sacred dabber. Use it wisely.”
“Remember what I said now,” Mrs. Beetle counselled, “First kiss! I want to be dead chuffed when I hear Jorja’s report!”
“This road is looking terribly familiar, Malcolm,” Jorja said as she herded Periwinkle towards the old town site.
“Now, park just up here…I know the owner of the home, they won’t mind us parking here,” Malcolm said.
“Yup; especially since there is a little blue-flowered sign that reads “Periwinkle parking only” that my Dad made a few years ago. Why are we at my home?” Jorja asked as she looked at her watch. “Well, we are in time for supper.”
“It’s a surprise,” Malcolm said mysteriously as they walked in the back door to find Jenny at the sink washing dishes.
“Hello you two! Here’s the key,” she said.
“We’re going to Darla’s house?” Jorja asked as they walked the little pathway to the neighbors.
As they entered the house, Malcolm turned on the lights, then turned and locked the door. “I don’t want any interruptions,” he said.
“Ooh, so mysterious,” Jorja said. “Now what?”
Malcolm instructed Jorja, “Just walk past the bathroom, now go down the hallway, past the little kitchen, okay stop,” he said as he put his hands on her hips.
Jorja froze mid-stride to the little living room. “This is a very small hallway to play freeze tag in, but okay,” she said.
Malcolm spun her around to face him.
“Now, kiss,” he said simply and then kissed her.
It was quiet in the hallway for some time.
Jorja stepped back and looked up at Malcolm. “We should do that more often!” she said.
“Agreed.”
“This is so much better than toffee,” Jorja said a little while later. She gave a little twirl. “I will always remember our first kiss; standing in the hallway of Darla’s house. I wonder if I’ll get goosebumps every time I stand here. That is, if whoever buys this lets me come over and visit.” Jorja took a couple of steps backwards and looked in the kitchen. “Aww, Malcolm, I remember sitting here when I was little, having crumpets and tea with old Mrs. Carrington,” she said fondly. “But if this were my house, I’d take out those two little windows and put in a big one in the center.”
Malcolm kissed her again. “You’re right,” he said. “It is better than toffee; the taste lingers.”
Jorja just grinned and for once in her life, was speechless.
“Back to the mystery of our long arduous trip here,” Malcolm said smiling. “Despite my newly found addiction to Bingo, I was able to tear myself away from my coach Mrs. Beetle and receive a phone call. My neighbour Dustin and his family looked at this house this morning. He phoned me to let me know that it just wouldn’t suit them. So he let me know that I was free to go ahead and buy it.”
“You bought Darla’s house?” Jorja yelled.
“Well not yet, Jorgie, but I want to make an offer. I looked at it about three months ago, before Darla put it on the market; in fact, she had asked your Mom and Dad if they knew anybody who could do some carpentry repairs and they phoned me up, so I came over.”
“My parents phoned you?” Jorja asked as she walked into the living room.
“And I phoned them this afternoon to arrange for the key.” Malcolm had his hand on a portion of the wood panelling that lined the room. “I told Darla to just leave this up; it would be much more than a simple cosmetic fix to rip this all down and then put up new drywall and paint. She decided to focus on the electrical and just leave everything else.”
“If you do buy this house, I’ll help you rip down these vertical blinds!” Jorja said enthusiastically.
Jorja pointed. “And there’s Elmer Frew’s Art Gallery beside the flower shop! But Malcolm, why buy the house? Do you have enough money? I mean, you’ve got your cousin to post bail for and everything…”
Malcolm gave a sharp cry. “Never in a million years!” he said. “But as to the money situation, yes, I have more than enough for a good down payment and my mortgage would be less than the rent I’m paying now. My plan is to live here and fix it up as I go. After that, maybe sell it; rent it out, who knows?”
“You my friend are quite the little planner. Wait!” Jorja said suddenly. “You aren’t my friend anymore are you?”
“No,” said Malcolm, “There has definitely been a status change.” He pointed to his chest. “Boyfriend.” He then hugged Jorja. “Girlfriend!”
“Exclusively?” she asked.
“Completely exclusive!” he said.
Jorja wiggled her eyebrows. “I think we should seal the deal with a kiss,” she said.
A jingling sound at the back door interrupted the couple. Darla Carrington walked in with a big bag of cleaning supplies. “Jorja and Malcolm!” she said happily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Napoleon was not a happy little camper. He had spent most of the day inside his Mother’s purse napping and now wanted to get out and run! He felt the zippies coming on! The little black and tan Chihuahua poked his nose out of the purse and saw the nephew drinking tea with Mother. Perfect! He knew from past experience, they wouldn’t try to catch him. He jumped out and ran up the hallway, around the master bedroom, down the hallway and through the kitchen and made a pit stop at his water dish. He then started zipping around his circuit again.