Verna, in serious radar mode, pressed her palms against the sides of her face, grew misty-eyed and announced shakily, “Mother and daughter have finally bonded!”
Toby kept his head down and started another game of hangman.
Verna, meanwhile, gravitated toward the huddle of crying, sobbing women and attached herself to it. So now there were three sniffling, blubbering women saying things like, “I love you!” “Thank you for helping my daughter,” and “Your biscuits were great.”
It took another twenty minutes for the sniffling and snuffling to die down. Then another ten minutes for reminiscences, apologies and a few recipe exchanges. Hearing the latter, Toby decided the time was ripe to speak up. Finishing his sixth game of hangman, he said loudly, “According to Captain Hook—” he gestured toward the clock “—it’s almost two o’clock. I’m locked out of my house. I have no ingredients for lasagna. And my potential boss is showing up for dinner in three hours, sharp.”
The Three Muses, their radar on high, began babbling all at once.
Toby raised a hand. They stopped. “And,” he added, “I need to figure out how to outwit Mickey and Minnie.”
“The mice?” Melanie asked incredulously.
“No,” answered Kate, “two vicious Dobermans that belong to Free’s, uh, friend.”
“Who are also unwanted houseguests at my home,” added Toby. “If my mother were here, she’d be saying Questa casa non è un albergo.”
“This house—meaning Toby’s—isn’t a motel,” translated Kate.
Melanie looked at her daughter in awe. “How many languages are you fluent in?”
“Mom, knowing one sentence in Italian doesn’t make me fluent.” Fighting a smile, she turned to Verna. “Remember the guy who lost his Chihuahua?”
Verna nodded. “The poor little thing was hiding out in that armoire in The Wild One.”
“Remember how we lured the puppy out?” Kate asked.
Verna slowly smiled. “We didn’t have puppy treats, so we browned some meat and cheese. That dog reappeared in our kitchen like magic!”
“We could do the same thing to Mickey and Minnie. There’s leftover ground beef from your breakfast burritos the other morning, plus my ever-present supply of sliced cheese for my sandwiches.”
Verna pulled a pan out of a cupboard. “Let’s start browning!”
“I can serve the dogs,” Melanie offered.
“Mom,” Kate said, pulling a paper-wrapped package out of the fridge. “These are Dobermans, not dinner guests.”
Melanie straightened. “I’ll have you know, when it comes to snarling and growling, I’m fearless. Ask your father.” Holding her head high, she sashayed out of the kitchen, picking up Toby’s pants on the way. “Call me when you’re ready. I’ll be upstairs fixing these pants.”
After she left, Verna said, “That’s some woman!”
Kate smiled with pride. “That’s my mom!”
While Kate rummaged in the refrigerator for the meat and cheese, Verna crossed to Toby. “Grocery list?” she asked softly.
He nodded.
“I can run to the store for you. I know where everything is.”
“Thanks.” When Verna remained close, not budging, Toby looked up. Tears welled within her gray eyes.
“Sorry,” she whispered, swiping at a tear that spilled over. “It’s just…you’re wearing Lou’s clothes.” She smiled tremulously. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them worn. It brings back memories.” She smoothed a spot on the T-shirt and Toby gave her a brief, warm hug before she headed to the stove. “I’ll brown the meat, Kate,” Verna said, assuming her kitchen privilege.
“Okay.” Kate looked around. “You’re browning. Mom’s sewing. Where am I needed?”
“I need you,” Toby answered. In more ways than she knew. “I need you to ensure Gwen delivers the cruise invitation to Free, get me back in her good graces.”
“Cruise invitation?” Verna repeated, shooting a disapproving look at Toby over her shoulder. “Didn’t know you two were—”
“Verna,” Kate interrupted. “I’m helping Toby do this.”
“You’re matchmaking the two of them?” Verna stirred the meat with big, scraping strokes. “Isn’t that a little off-kilter, like me setting up that bakery guy with—”
“This is different,” Kate said firmly.
“Bad matches are bad matches, no matter what the circumstances,” Verna mumbled.
“This is important,” Kate said with great bravado. “Free will be ecstatic, she and Toby will make up, then Toby can go home and get his promotion and live the rest of his life happily ever after.”
Toby’s insides ached when he looked at Kate, whose false smile looked anything but happy-ever-after.
Verna coughed, diverting everyone’s attention. “Free won’t be home to receive that invitation.”
“How do you know?” Toby asked.
“Because she’s already received a special invitation,” she said quickly, “hand-delivered by my son. I knew Toby needed to get back into his home by tonight, so I made a special invitation to an international bead convention being held today only in Calistoga. If she shows up by five o’clock this afternoon, she’ll win a thousand beautiful beads of her choice. Of course, I made the instructions difficult to follow. I figured by the time she arrives in Calistoga, which should be close to five, then drives around looking for this place, she’ll finally discover it doesn’t exist. And nobody in their right mind drives in rush-hour traffic from Calistoga to San Francisco, so she’ll probably wait until seven or eight to drive back, which means she’ll return to North Beach by nine tonight at the earliest. Plenty of time for Toby to cook dinner and get his promotion.” Verna looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know other invitations were in the making. I thought I was being helpful.”
If Beau hadn’t jumped onto the sill and meowed raspily, the silence that followed Verna’s statement would have been deafening.
“That’s why I was late this morning,” she confessed. “I was gluing little beads all over that special invitation.” She took a deep, unsteady breath. “Please tell me you’re not mad because I just saw Free drive away with that guy, minus the dogs, so they must be on their way to Calistoga.”
Beau emitted a long, gravelly meow.
“I hear you, brother,” Toby said. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, when the cruise invitation is delivered, Free won’t be there to receive it. But I’m not complaining about your plan, Verna, because it means I’ll be able to cook dinner tonight as though nothing unusual has gone on these past few days.”
Nothing unusual? Just being chased by vicious dogs, running around nearly naked, and…falling in love with Kate.
TOBY INSERTED THE KEY into the lock of his front door and turned the latch.
Click.
This was followed by vicious snarling, barking and scratching on the other side of the door.
“Mickey and Minnie should be personal greeters,” Toby said drolly, his hand on the knob. “Maybe we should call the pound, or a vet. Offering a bowl of meager hamburger to two vicious beasts seems a little like underkill.” He cringed. “No pun intended.”
Melanie, standing several feet down the walkway, looked unruffled in one of her signature dresses with matching pumps. She held the bowl of browned meat with cheese as though she were serving the main course to guests. “No need to get strangers involved,” she said, “when it can be handled by family.”
She sounded like his own mom for a second.
Kate, standing next to her mom, said, “Let me serve the meat.”
“For the hundredth time,” Melanie said authoritatively, “I want to do something adventurous outside of the home for a change, so please step aside, darling daughter.”
Kate hesitated, then did as requested.
“Open the door just a notch,” Melanie said, obviously proud to be involved in this expedition. “Just enough for Mikey and Mary to sniff a li
ttle.”
“Mickey and Minnie,” Toby corrected. As though he cared. He opened the door an inch. Instantly, two barking mouths, teeth bared, filled the small opening.
“They don’t look too interested in sniffing,” Kate said.
Melanie took several steps up the walk, talking softly as though approaching two misbehaving children. “Now, now, you two. What’s all the commotion? I have a treat for you, you sweet little things.”
One of the sweet little things had his lips pulled back, growling ominously through bared teeth. The other kept barking.
Toby felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face. “Take it easy, guys,” he said, speaking as much to himself as to the dogs.
“That’s right,” Melanie said, her words oozing that Southern accent. “Take it easy, Mickey and Minnie.” She kept talking softly, holding the bowl in front of her.
The dogs started quieting down. One had his nose wedged in the door opening, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.
Melanie was at the door. She held the bowl up to the closest pair of nostrils. “What does Mama have for you?” she asked sweetly.
One of the dogs smacked its lips and whined.
Toby almost felt like doing the same, he was so relieved.
“Open the door a little more,” Melanie whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s all right,” Melanie insisted softly. “These mean ol’ beasts are becoming pussycats.” Before Toby could stop her, she held one manicured hand over the bowl, palm down, for one of the nuzzles to sniff.
Next thing Toby knew, she was scratching Mickey—or was it Minnie?—under its chin. In the midst of her cooing and baby talk, she said to Toby, “Open the door farther.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” she said sweetly. “They’re under my power.”
Toby smiled. Like mother, like daughter. They both had a knack for quirky comments. He opened the door wider. At the same time, Melanie held the bowl in the opening. Mickey and Minnie began eagerly sampling the meat.
“That’s good,” sweet-talked Melanie, taking a step back. “Follow me, you little mouseketeers.” Melanie began to back away, holding the bowl in front of her. “Open the door wider, son.”
He knew better than to argue. Toby opened the door, stepping away. Kate, meanwhile, was across the yard, her eyes wide.
Next thing Toby knew, Melanie had Mickey and Minnie outside, slurping and chomping their surprise treat while Melanie slipped sturdy ribbons through each of their collars. After they’d finished eating most of the food, she led them by their makeshift leashes back to the inn.
Toby, awestruck, watched as the three of them disappeared into Beau’s Bed-and-Breakfast. “Your mother,” he said to Kate, “has a knack for taming wild beasts.”
“I have a feeling that’s what she’s been doing with Dad, too,” Kate said with a wink as they headed inside the house.
“It’s almost two-thirty,” Toby said, checking a wall clock. “Phone your mom, leave this number. Ask her to call us when Verna gets in. We’ll go over and pick up the groceries.”
“Good idea. Where’s your phone?”
“In the bedroom.” He pointed over his shoulder. “On the right, next to the front door.”
Kate headed back down the hallway, past the wall pictures she remembered from before. As she turned into the bedroom, she slowed down. Toby and Free’s bedroom. Kate looked around. It was different than she’d imagined. For one thing, there weren’t beads everywhere. But there was plenty of dark, masculine wood. Perhaps most impressive was the burl-and-walnut-paneled headboard. Definitely Toby’s taste, which thrilled her with its sheer masculine power. It dominated the room, stamped it as his own. If Kate were his woman, she’d be his partner and mate—loyal in both. Such a man deserved no less.
But she didn’t want to think about that anymore, or second-guess why he felt he needed to work things out with Bead Woman. Kate looked around and spied a beige phone on the walnut nightstand.
She also spied a staggering pile of clothes in the corner. A man’s ripped clothes. More doggie toys, just like his shoes? Oh, this guy was having a bad-clothes day or two.
Sitting on the mattress, she dialed her number, listened to her voice on the recording. “You’ve reached Beau’s Bed-and-Breakfast. We’re either on another line or catering to our guests. Please leave a detailed message after the beep and we’ll return your call as soon as possible!” Sheesh, she sounded chipper. The opposite of how she felt right now. “Hi, Mom and Verna. When you get in, call this number—” she read it off the label on the phone “—and we’ll come over and get the groceries. Thanks!”
She hung up and stood, but didn’t want to leave the room quite yet. She wasn’t a snoop, but damn, this was the bedroom Toby slept in…with Free! “Bet he was never her pirate,” she murmured, looking around. More photos hung on the far wall—antique photos. Kate moved over for a closer look. A couple stood stiffly, staring at the camera. The woman had dark hair and a pinched expression on her face. The man had blondish hair and deep brown eyes and, if Kate wasn’t mistaken, a hint of that lopsided smile she sometimes saw in Toby. She looked back at the woman, whose lacy bridal gown was reminiscent of the straight line of the flappers’ dresses. If that was right, the photo had to be from the 1920s. Toby’s grandparents? Maybe they were newly arrived from Italy, wanting to start a family in the United States. Maybe they arrived alone, just the two of them, starting with very little except their love and responsibility to each other and to their dreams.
“Did you make the call?”
Kate turned. Toby stood in the doorway, an anxious look creasing his features.
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
He released an angry breath. Between clenched teeth, he said, “The oven is broken!”
She tugged at a strand of her hair, sick about his wardrobe. “Wait till you get a load of your clothes.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, Kate returned with her toolbox and set it next to Toby’s stove.
“Why did she have to do that on the stove?” Toby said for the umpteenth time.
Kate didn’t have to ask what “that” was. She’d already witnessed some of “that” when she and Toby had been stuck in the can room. “Maybe it was the only warm place in the house?”
“It’s August! She knows the stove is my pride and joy. And she purposely—” He clenched his jaw, unwilling to say more.
“It can be repaired,” Kate said matter-of-factly, taking a pair of needle-nose pliers out of her tool box. “Looks like it’s just a collapsed gas injector. Piece of cake.” Using the pliers to hold the tube in place, she held out her other hand, “Screwdriver, please.”
Toby rummaged in the toolbox and extracted one. “This one?” he asked, handing it to her.
“Perfect.” She began reaming out the collapsed tube. “This will take just a few minutes, then the gas can flow again and your stove will be good as new.”
“You and your mother are quite a team.”
“Dogs and stoves, our specialties.”
“And cars,” he teased.
Kate, working on the stove, smiled. “You never gave me the chance to play mechanic on the car after the Firebird.”
“I should have given you a chance.”
Kate continued working, thinking how she deserved that chance and more. The chance to be his partner in life. His lover. But it was time to stop being foolishly romantic and grow up. He was working it out with Free. Kate couldn’t look back. Had to look forward.
“Voilà!” she said, holding the screwdriver up triumphantly. “Give the knob a twirl and let’s see those burners burn!”
Toby did. They all worked perfectly. “You’re amazing, Kate.” As she stood, he pulled her close, giving her a hug. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek.
Reluctantly she pulled away. “You’re welcome,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Let’s go next door, get the groceries.”<
br />
She turned and left, not wanting to look back. After all, she had to keep looking forward.
10
DING-A-DING-A-DING-A-DING.
Toby had always hated the sound of his doorbell, but Free wanted a doorbell that sounded like the jangling of beads. He checked his wristwatch. Five-thirty. His boss was thirty minutes late, but that was a small bump in the road compared to the wild ride of the past forty-eight hours.
Toby took a deep breath before opening the door. “Good evening, Dennis!”
His potential boss, Dennis Doyle, a tall, lanky man with more smile lines than ripples in the sea, started to grin. It froze halfway, as though he was unsure whether to grin or grimace. His green eyes traveled slowly down Toby, then back up. “Good…evening.”
The outfit. “Oh,” Toby said, trying to sound breezy, “you’re wondering about my clothes!” He’d made a mess of the jeans and T-shirt while cooking, and after discovering what the Dobermans had done to his clothes, he’d been once again clothesless. With time running out, Melanie, Verna and Kate had agreed that the black leather pants and red silk shirt were all right to wear for dinner. After repairing the rip in the pants, Melanie had taken the outfit to the dry cleaners for one-hour service, so at least it was clean.
Although, secretly, Toby wondered if all three of them just wanted to see him decked out as a pirate again. And when he’d put the outfit back on, he wondered the same thing about himself.
Clearing his throat, Toby offered the explanation the women had concocted, “I, uh, just got back from…my flamenco dancing lessons. Didn’t have time to change. Plus, my feet hurt so much after those classes, I always put on these slippers. Hope you don’t mind.” He laughed awkwardly, acting as though wearing skintight leather pants and an open-neck red silk shirt was just a fun, postdancing sort of thing.
“No, I don’t mind,” Dennis said, shaking his head, although it seemed more to clear the image standing before him. He put his arm around the petite woman at his side. “This is my better half, Suzanne. Suzanne, this is Toby Mancini, the hotshot engineer I told you about.”
In Bed with the Wild One & In Bed with the Pirate Page 29
