Better Love

by Daisy Prescott

  “What about now? What’s changed?”

  I faced the water and watched as a seagull coasted on an updraft. “Nothing and everything. Maybe Erik’s escapade happened as a catalyst for me to reach out. A lucky confluence of events.”

  “You, you can’t come crashing through my carefully built defenses and walk out of my life again.” Her voice wavered with emotion.

  “I’ve always seen through your tough exterior and how you hide your soft side behind snark and deflection. I can’t make promises for the future, but right now, I want to try. Again. I want to see if this is real or some ghost of nostalgia for what might’ve been. The only way we’ll ever get over each other is to figure out if what we had was real to begin with.”

  Finally, after a moment or an eternity, she spoke again.

  “What are you suggesting? We’re going to date?” Her voice held a smile and hope. “Like call me up and ask me out on a Wednesday for a Saturday night?”

  “That’s the plan.” My grin matched hers. “Planned, thoughtful courtship. See if we’re compatible. If we can build a life together.”

  “Sounds old-fashioned.”

  “Delightfully so. There might be flowers and boxes of chocolates involved.”

  “Going for the full cliché?”

  “All of it. Movies with extra butter on the popcorn, walking near the gutter so you don’t get splashed by cars driving through puddles, and pulling out your chair so you can sit. If there’s an overused romantic gesture, I’ll make it. Do you know where I can hire a skywriter?”

  “I have no idea about skywriters.” She didn’t suppress her soft giggle. “What if I want Sno-Caps at the movies?”

  “Purchased without questioning your terrible taste in movie candy or grumbling about greedy theater mark-ups. You know, we have a movie theater in Langley.”

  “Are you luring me back to your island?”

  “It’s only a matter of time until you give in to our charms. I’ll buy you a Langley sweatshirt, Whidbey Joe coffee mug, and stuffed orca to be constant reminders while you’re cooped up in the city.”

  “I’ll look like a tourist.”

  “Fine, I’ll buy you a monthly commuter book for the ferry.”

  “There are dating options in Seattle, you know.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “I’ll come to Seattle. Are you free on Saturday?”

  I didn’t want to waste any more time.

  SUNDAYS DURING FOOTBALL season were busy at Sal’s. After one of our waitresses called in sick I returned to the restaurant to manage the cash register and take phone orders. Standing at the counter, I observed the action in the restaurant. Most of the tables were occupied and a half dozen pizzas waited to be picked up.

  A man and woman about my age stood talking to John and Diane at the corner table. He had dark hair and a beard. She stood about half a foot shorter than him with strawberry blond hair to her shoulders.

  The woman bounced Alene on her hip and made faces at John’s daughter, earning giggles and fat-handed claps. I didn’t recognize the couple, but obviously they knew the Days.

  “Gil, your order’s up!” Jeff slid the box in front of me on the counter.

  At the sound of Jeff’s voice, the guy walked over to the counter. “I’m Gil.”

  “I’m Dan.” Not sure why we were introducing ourselves, but I gave him a friendly smile. I double-checked the ticket on the box. “White pizza with figs and prosciutto?”

  “That’s us.” He pulled out his wallet and passed me his card.

  “Nice combination with the figs. I might have to add that to the menu.”

  “Thanks, that’s all Maggie’s invention. She’s the foodie in the house.”

  The redhead handed the baby back to John and walked over to join us. She paused a few feet away and her eyes widened. “Hi. Wow. You’re gorgeous.”

  Her words surprised me. I stumbled with a response and stood with my mouth slightly open. I could say the same thing about her. If I had a type, I guess it would have to be stunning redheads.

  Gil gazed at her smile with an amused expression before introducing her. “This is my Maggie.”

  Taking a step closer to the counter, she stuck out her hand. “Where have you been hiding?”

  Given his introduction, I’d guessed they were a couple. Her blunt honesty about my appearance struck me as odd, but funny. She seemed quirky, but harmless.

  “Better keep Selah away from him,” Gil warned her.

  “She’s off gluten, so I think the hot pizza guy is safe.” Maggie failed at the subtle whisper.

  “For now.” His expression turned serious. I didn’t know if they were talking about a friend or their daughter.

  Maggie elbowed Gil. “She has Kai.”

  “Yeah, but knowing her, she’ll start a whole new series around hot pizza delivery guys.”

  With a neutral smile on my face, I tried to follow the conversation. Honestly, I had no idea what they were talking about. They spoke in code the way only couples who’d known each other for years could master. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Selah was into porn.

  “Ah, the myth of the sexy pizza delivery guy. Classic porn trope.” Jeff joined the conversation. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me. His eyes appeared unfocused and a sly smile lingered on his face. I didn’t want to delve any deeper into the whys of his expression.

  Ignoring Jeff, I asked, “Are you new to the island?”

  Maggie chuckled. “No, not really. My family’s owned the cabin next to John’s for over half a century, but I don’t live here full time.”

  Not even fifty years as a summer resident gave her street cred as a local. I felt her pain.

  “John’s a regular.” I nodded in the direction of my friend and his wife. “Especially now that the baby is here.”

  “Oh, I bet John’s lived off of pizza and beer for a lot longer.” I liked the way Maggie’s eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled. She was the kind of beautiful enhanced by character. “Wait, I recognize you from their wedding last year. I’m good with faces, but not names or situations.”

  “You looked familiar,” I agreed. “I’m Dan.”

  We did the handshake introductions. I turned around to add some garlic knots to their order.

  “Oh! You’re October,” Maggie exclaimed.

  Facing them again, I caught Gil giving her a funny look.

  She patted his chest. “From the Naked Whidbey calendar. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you from the front.”

  Gil stared at her with his mouth open.

  “A bunch of local guys did a calendar for charity.”

  “Full Monty kind of thing?” He slung his arm around Maggie’s shoulder. I wondered if he did it consciously as a possessive gesture because he saw me as a threat, or if he was trying to get Maggie to stop talking.

  “Naked bums only,” she explained. “Long boring story. John’s in it, too.”

  Gil shot a dirty look over his shoulder at John. “Really? And you own this calendar?”

  “I bought one for everyone I know as early Christmas presents. Quinn’s getting two, one for home and one for his studio.”

  I listened as she dug her hole deeper and deeper the longer she raved about all the naked butts.

  “It’s really not a big deal.” I tried to save the conversation.

  Maggie blinked at me and then studied Gil. “Oh, he’s fine. Probably mad no one asked him.”

  Sputtering, Gil shook his head.

  “You have a glorious ass.” She stood up on her toes to whisper something in his ear.

  “On that note, nice meeting you, Dan.” Gil picked up the pizza box.

  “It’s a small island. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Maggie waved and followed him out the door.

  I stood staring at the door for a minute. John lumbered over to the counter with Alene propped on one arm and a half-finished pizza in his other hand.

  “
Need a box?” I asked the obvious question, taking the tray from him.

  “You met Maggie and Gil?”

  “I did.” I slid the leftover pie into a takeout box. “Seem like nice people.”

  “I’ve known her a long time. You should hang out with them.”

  I furrowed my brow as I tucked in the box lid. I didn’t need help making friends. “Why’s that? Because we’re around the same age?”

  “No . . . well, I hadn’t thought about you all being middle aged.” He was giving me shit and we both knew it. “Nah, because she’s a food blogger and you’re a food maker. Maybe she can give you some publicity for Sal’s. I hear she has a huge following, even knows people in New York at magazines and publishers. You could go big time. I swear your pizza’s the best.”

  He didn’t know how awful that suggestion sounded to me. I knew he meant well. He had a kind heart. Hell, he brought me hardwood for the pizza ovens and never let me pay him. Maybe if I told him I had money in the bank he wouldn’t feel the need to help me out. Then again, it was his nature to watch out for his friends and neighbors. Saying no would insult his kindness.

  “Thanks, but I think I do all right.”

  He studied me with his wise brown eyes. “Okay. Then hang out with them because they’re old like you.”

  Giggling, Alene tugged on his dark beard.

  “At least she thinks you’re hysterical.” I patted the chubby arm reaching out for me.

  “You ever think about having one?” John tilted his head down toward his daughter. Her dark hair matched his.

  “Sure. Yeah.” I hadn’t thought of having my own in years. “But I’ve always worked too hard to think about settling down.”

  “Nothing wrong with hard work.” John would know. He worked in timber. “But I’m pretty sure you need a woman for the kid part.”

  “Ahh. Therein lies my conundrum. I’ve sworn off the fairer of our species.”

  “Vow of celibacy?” He lowered his voice. “Some sort of pizza mafia oath?”

  I choked on my laugh. “Tom convince you one exists?”

  “You’ve never really denied it.”

  “Funny that.” I chuckled soft and low.

  “You like messing with his head, don’t you?”

  I raised my eyes to meet his. “It’s too easy.”

  Alene giggled again and pointed her arms in my direction.

  “She likes you.”

  “I smell like pizza. All women love me. It’s a pheromone thing.” I scooped the smiling baby into my arms.

  She frowned at me and then twisted to peek at her dad before squirming to escape.

  I handed Alene back to John before she started crying. “Unfortunately, most women are fickle.”

  “Complicated is the word I tend to use, even with the ones who can’t walk yet.”

  “No kidding.”

  I didn’t give any more thought to John’s friends until they returned a few days later.

  Maggie and Gil sat in a booth this time. I sent Jeff out with an order of garlic knots on the house after I recognized them.

  He returned to the register and told me they wanted to chat with me.

  “Everything okay with the garlic knots?” Standing next to their table, I greeted them with a friendly smile.

  Maggie moaned in pleasure. “You should give a warning on these. Seriously, do you lace them with pot or crack or some magical unicorn horn powder?”

  I flicked my gaze to Gil. He shrugged. “She’s right. They’re really good.”

  “Can you patent the recipe? You could make millions with these.”

  Her words hit a nerve she couldn’t know existed. I laughed it off, but ended up coughing when my throat constricted.

  “Thanks for the compliment. I’ll have Jeff box some up for you when you leave.”

  “I want to cry for all of the people who’ve given up gluten and can’t experience the mouth joy happening right now.” She closed her eyes as she bit into another chunk of bread drenched in olive oil, butter, parsley, and minced garlic.

  “She’s serious about her carbs. Maggie makes the best scones. Take it as a high compliment.” Gil smiled at me.

  “I’ll tell you the secret.” I glanced over my shoulder and crooked my finger to make my next words seem like a big reveal.

  Opening her eyes wide, Maggie leaned forward. “Please don’t tell me the special ingredient is love.”

  “I add a little raw cane sugar to the sea salt sprinkled on top.”

  “Umami!” she exclaimed, making me grin.

  “You really are a foodie.”

  “Salty, sweet, savory is my favorite combination. You nailed it.”

  “She’s obsessed with the bacon maple bars from Voodoo Doughnuts.”

  “Those are the best. You live in Portland?”

  “Part of the year. I’m a professor.” Gil looked the part. Not that he wore a jacket with elbow patches or a bowtie, but I could imagine him in the outfit, pontificating at the front of a lecture hall. Something about him said cool professor. I wondered if he played chess.

  Maggie interrupted my thoughts. “I’m going to write about Sal’s. Normally I don’t ask permission when I review a restaurant, but you’re Whidbey people and I don’t want to step on any toes. It’ll be glowing, I swear. In case you were worried. I never snipe local places. Too awkward when I meet up with someone in the ferry line or at the Red Apple. Island’s too small for enemies over something as silly as my opinion about food.”

  “Sal’s is just a local pizza place. Not sure why anyone would want to read about it. Pizza is pizza.”

  She gaped at me with an expression of horror. “You’re kidding, right? Most pizza is cardboard with plastic cheese and preservative laced fake meat. We’re lucky to have two amazing places here. There’s you and Village Pizzeria in Langley. Both excellent, entirely different beasts. Don’t even get me started about the national chains.”

  “We’d be here all night,” Gil warned.

  Maggie turned her head to stare at me from the side. “You know your pizza is amazing. Why are you downplaying it? Are you hiding from the FBI or something?”

  “Maggie, love.” Gil reached for her hand.

  “Sorry. I’m overly passionate about good food.”

  “I don’t think anyone can be ‘overly’ passionate about anything they love. I get it.”

  “If you want me to leave you out of the article, I will. I’ll downplay the owner angle. Your pizza speaks for itself. You could be a former Michelin star chef for all I care. As long as you’re not a criminal or an asshole, I’ll happily promote your food. Maybe bring you some new business. Not that you need it.” She pointed to the full booths and stack of pizza boxes.

  “It’s a nice offer. Thank you. I look forward to seeing what you write.” I forced my friendly smile in place. She was offering me a gift I didn’t want. It was the thought behind the gift that counted, right?

  “Give me your email and I’ll send you the draft for final approval.”

  I found a card and wrote my personal email on the back before giving it to Maggie. She waved at a few locals on the way out the door. I made a note to tell Roslyn about the review when it came out. She’d probably be happy I agreed to more than a shared column with a roaming alpaca.

  ROMANTIC GESTURE NUMBER one was under way.

  I had two orchestra seats for a concert Friday night in Seattle. Normally, I preferred to go to shows by myself, but something told me to get an extra ticket.

  Instead of asking Roslyn to join me a week ago, I’d stalled and waited until the last minute. When I’d mentioned plans for Saturday on the phone, she’d said she was free all weekend. Going on instinct, something told me to be spontaneous and she wouldn’t say no. I suspected she’d carefully planned and controlled enough other aspects of her life to the point of boredom disguised as over-scheduling.

  I left Jeff in charge of Sal’s and took an early ferry to town.

  Cursing the traffic on
I-5, I thought about calling Roslyn and inviting her over the phone, but that would’ve ruined all the fun. Based on our conversation, she should be home.

  I turned on her block and slipped into the empty spot in front of her building. The same doorman was on duty and greeted me like an old friend. I took advantage of his friendliness and told him Roslyn was expecting me, so he didn’t need to bother with calling up to let her know. With a familiar wave, he happily assured me she was home.

  In the lobby, he didn’t even blink at my transformation. In fact, he gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I situated everything in place before entering the elevator and dialing Roslyn.

  She sounded breathless when she finally answered after three rings.

  I grinned over my brilliant plan. “Hi. I’m in the city and wanted to stop by to see you. Do you have plans tonight?”

  “Hello? Your voice is muffled and there’s a lot of rustling. Can you hear me?” She sounded like she was on speaker phone.

  I tried to lift the phone closer to my mouth. “Must be a bad connection on the Bluetooth. I’m in your neighborhood. Let’s be spontaneous and hang out.”

  Luckily the elevator didn’t ping to announce its arrival on her floor. Conscious of making too much noise, I slowly walked down the hall to her door.

  “Bummer. I’d love to see you, but I’m not home yet.”

  “Are you sure about that?” With one ear pressed against her door, I could hear her voice from where I stood in the hallway.

  “Of course I’m sure. Why would you ask that?”

  I tapped on the metal.

  The sound of footsteps stopped on the other side.

  “No reason.” I knocked again.

  The door swung open to a disheveled and shocked Roslyn wearing leggings and a long black open cardigan over gray T-shirt.

  As she screamed I held up my phone and gave her a wave. Not having the full range of my arms meant the wave was like a beauty queen in a parade.

  If the beauty queen were Godzilla.

  “It’s me.” I pointed to the small opening in the head where my face peeked through.