by Ashlyn Chase
She was relieved too. The thought of caring for infants, then chasing toddlers around, and finally coping with teenagers scared her to pieces. As far as Claudia was concerned, this was just another indication that they belonged together.
***
Over the next two months, Anthony and Claudia studied the tea business in public places.
He used the excuse that they needed clear heads to discuss products, equipment, and staffing, and if they were alone in her apartment, he might not be able to keep his hands off her. That much was certainly true.
What he also needed was a way to keep Claudia safe from Ruxandra.
He thought he’d spotted his jealous ex-girlfriend following him one night. Fortunately, he was able to lose her—that time.
For now, he had to make his romantic relationship with Claudia appear as if it were strictly business. That was the opposite of what he wanted, but he needed time to deal with a certain dangerous vampiress. How to do that—short of killing Ruxandra—utterly mystified him.
Claudia seemed to understand his explanation of needing to put the business first and reluctantly agreed. She had her own work to do. The AA program had specific steps and she was taking them seriously. She admitted she wasn’t looking forward to taking a moral inventory of herself, but Anthony couldn’t imagine any of her actions being remotely immoral. If she only knew his history…her worst sin would pale in comparison to some of his normal behavior.
For now, she was attending meetings during the day and leaving her evenings free for him. If she kept to that schedule, he wouldn’t have to worry about Ruxandra getting her alone in a dark alley.
His plan was working, at least temporarily. Each time they saw each other, they’d find a secluded table in the back and go over business decisions while waiting for their meals. Well, Claudia’s meal. Anthony explained that he was on a special diet. Not untrue.
They tried really hard to keep their hands to themselves, but by the time dessert came, they were playing footsie, or if they had one of those padded-bench seats where they could sit side by side, they groped, kissed, and tried to stop short of getting thrown out for lewd behavior. Anthony didn’t know how much longer he could postpone the inevitable.
He was going to sleep with Claudia. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.
“Have you considered my proposal?”
Her eyes rounded. “Your what?”
Whoa. Maybe I should have been more specific. “My offer to give you the apartment over the shop? It’s brand new, very chic—like you, and the commute can’t be beat.”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “That. Yes, I’ve thought about it, but I won’t take it rent free. I know you could get upward of three thousand a month for that place.”
“True, but I like to know who’s living in my building.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I’d like to know you’re living in my building. I want you safe.”
“But I already owe you so much.”
“You earned every penny I paid you. Who else would work seven days a week without complaint?”
She smiled but kept her eyes down. “It’s very generous of you, but it could be awkward if things don’t work out between us.”
He let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair. “Why would you think that’ll happen?”
“I don’t. I mean…nobody does when the relationship is new. But things could change.”
“Would you quit your job?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Then I don’t foresee a problem.”
“I’d still feel better paying rent.”
Anthony sighed. “I’ll work it into your new salary.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s something we haven’t discussed yet. I assume the tea shop won’t make as much money as the bar, at least when it’s brand new. I guess I’ll have to take a pay cut.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Huh? Anthony, we can adjust it as we go along, but I know how much it costs to run a place like that, and you probably won’t break even for a while.”
“Don’t worry about my money, Claudia. I can afford to pay you a good salary, and I will.”
She lifted her chin. “And what if I say it’s too much?”
Anthony burst out laughing.
“Hey. That isn’t funny.”
He dabbed at the corners of his eyes as he tried to wrestle the humor out of her refusal. “You’re cute when you shoot yourself in the foot—or try to.”
Claudia folded her arms over her perfect chest. “I’m trying to keep you in business.”
He looked at her sternly. “Claudia, I’m a multimillionaire. I could run this business in the red for a hundred years, and I’d still have more money than I need.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, since neither one of us will be around that long, I can’t very well call you a liar, can I?”
Whew. She obviously has no idea what I am. That was small comfort, considering he’d have to tell her eventually if things worked out—and he found himself desperately hoping they would.
“Not to change the subject, but how’s the sobriety going?”
“Good. I’m enjoying the AA meetings. It’s as if I’ve discovered a whole new set of close friends I didn’t know I had.” She grinned.
An unexpected pang of jealousy hit him. He was genuinely happy for her, but part of him wondered if those friends would come between them at some point.
“I just got a sponsor,” she said.
“Oh? That’s great. Tell me about him.” He tried to sound nonchalant. If he didn’t tamp down the twinge of jealousy that had just stabbed his heart, he could threaten her sobriety. As much as he wanted to be her whole world, he wanted her health and happiness more.
“It’s not a him. It’s a her. Women sponsor women, and men sponsor men. It can get complicated otherwise.”
“I see.” He relaxed, trying not to let out the breath he’d been holding—for about ten minutes—in a big whoosh.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about her. It’s an anonymous program.”
“Sort of like Las Vegas? What happens in AA stays in AA?”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “Vegas got a lot of people into AA.”
He chuckled. “Well, you look happy. I’m glad to see you smiling again.”
After a brief hesitation she said, “You have a lot to do with that. Unfortunately, that brings up a new wrinkle.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Wrinkle?” That doesn’t sound good.
She fidgeted. “Newly sober singles are supposed to stay out of relationships for a year.”
Anthony’s jaw dropped. Oh, hell no. “A year? But we’ve already waited five!”
“I know. I explained that to my sponsor. She said it was up to me, and that I should take into consideration your…influence. She was concerned because you owned a bar.”
Now he wanted to find this woman and throttle her. How dare she question his “influence”? Hadn’t he decided to tailor his whole business to Claudia’s needs?
She rubbed his leg. “I told her you were turning the bar into a tea room because I’m a teetotaler now.”
“Oh? And what did she say about that?”
“She wants to know if you have a brother.”
***
Mother Nature hummed as she worked in her indoor garden. The glass bubble over the top floor of the Boston office building provided plenty of light, especially since she could control the weather to her liking.
“Excuse me, Gaia.”
She whirled around. “Oh, it’s you, Apollo. What do you want?”
“Balog is here to see you.”
She automatically balled her fists and tried not to curse. So much for relaxing.
She removed her dirty gloves and flung them onto the raised flowe
r bed, narrowly missing a petunia. “What the frig does he want?”
Apollo shrugged.
Muttering about how useless and lazy gods were, Mother Nature strode to the bank of elevators where Mr. Balog was waiting.
She folded her arms and glared at him. “What?”
“I—uh, I thought you might want to know that the paranormal meeting place on Charles Street is reopening.”
Gaia’s eyes grew wide. “You mean that vampire hasn’t learned his lesson? The fire didn’t show him how dangerous a place like that was?”
“Yes, ma’am—I mean Mother—I mean Goddess.”
Trying to remain calm, she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She counted to ten. Eventually, she slapped a hand over her eyes, gave up, and screamed. “Gaaaaah!”
Balog took a giant step back.
After her outburst, she felt better. An upholstered chair materialized under her butt and she plopped onto it. “Tell me everything you know.”
Balog smiled and said, “Everything I know? That might take a long time.”
Gaia rolled her eyes and mumbled, “I doubt it.”
Balog cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Goddess. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Of course you meant everything I know about the tea room.”
“Tea room?”
“Yes. Anthony Cross rebuilt the first floor of his building as a tea parlor. It’s quite fancy.”
Gaia’s jaw dropped. Then it occurred to her that if Anthony was trying to reopen a front for a supernatural gathering place, a tea room was an odd choice. “So, is he no longer trying to gather paranormals for some kind of deranged peace talks?”
“Oh, no. He’s up to his old tricks,” Balog continued with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the werewolves trying to hold those tiny watercress sandwiches in their big, meaty fingers.” He laughed, but she wasn’t amused.
“Are you sure your information is correct?”
“My intelligence-gathering has shown that the same customers who frequented the bar are interested in the grand opening of the tea parlor.”
Gaia was tempted to make a crack involving the word “intelligence,” but not even sarcasm would alleviate the worry invading her gut.
“So the paranormals are still planning to gather in a public place, increasing their risk of a slipup around humans. But it hasn’t opened yet?”
“Correct. The grand opening is the day after tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. I could take my wife, but I’d stick out by myself.”
It sounded as if the human crowd would likely be female. Observant, meddling, gossiping females. Gaia bent over and covered her face with her hands. “This is such a bad idea.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the place as always, Goddess. Reporting any problems to you immediately.”
“Well, do it from a distance. You can’t help me if your cover is blown.”
“I managed to rent the third-floor apartment from Mr. Cross again. Because my family lived there before the building burned, he gave us a chance to rent it first.” Balog puffed up his chest. “Apparently he still doesn’t know we’re spying on him.”
She rose and the chair disappeared. “Good, but I want to see this place for myself. You’re excused, Balog.”
She spun on her heel and marched over to her forest in the corner. “Now to create a hat that’s fit for a tea party.”
***
Claudia sat next to her sponsor, Gaye. When it came time to introduce herself, she said what she knew she was supposed to say, but it still felt strange and difficult. “My name is Claudia, and I’m an alcoholic.”
Everyone said, “Hi, Claudia,” like she hadn’t just confessed her worst secret…as if she’d just said, “I like ice cream.”
Her sponsor followed suit. “Hi, I’m Gaye, and I’m an alcoholic.”
Someone behind them chuckled and said, “So am I.”
Another deep voice echoed, “Me too.”
Gaye turned around. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”
The room erupted in giggles, but Gaye smiled, taking the good-natured ribbing well. Claudia couldn’t help but be impressed with the woman’s unshakable serenity. She hoped someday she’d be that comfortable in her own skin.
Her mind was racing. The members were taking turns reading a paragraph at a time from the book outlining the twelve steps. When her turn came, she wasn’t even aware of what she was reading. All she could concentrate on was not stumbling over her words. She stumbled once anyway.
“Sheesh. I don’t think I comprehended a thing I just read,” she whispered to Gaye.
Gaye leaned toward her and whispered back, “Bring the body. The mind will follow.”
“But—”
“Shhh. ‘Learn to listen and listen to learn.’ We’ll talk later.”
The woman could be a hard-ass, but thank goodness she had someone with experience helping her through this. Claudia couldn’t imagine trying to navigate all the changes she was going through alone.
For the first month, Claudia couldn’t help crying easily when someone brought up a situation that had contributed to their problems—and hers. Poor self-esteem, isolation, fear…the emotional gamut. But her sponsor said it was normal to feel a little raw in the beginning, especially since she was feeling emotions she’d shut away or tried to dilute with alcohol. If only it had worked. The more she drank, the worse it got.
She’d gone from feeling pleasantly buzzed to crying uncontrollably when she’d drunk too much and self-pity kicked in. Someone described her struggle in a way Claudia could totally understand. She said she was a high-bottom drunk with low-bottom emotions. Another guy said he felt like he was in a slingshot when he drank. He never knew where he’d wind up.
For Claudia, the emotions were the worst part. She’d never woken up on a stranger’s front lawn or passed out in a friend’s closet while looking for the bathroom, but she identified with the feelings of shame expressed at meetings when even the toughest guys cracked.
No one she’d heard speak in AA had the exact circumstances she did—a dear departed sister and survivor’s guilt—but everyone seemed to understand her tears and fears nonetheless.
Her sister, Marion, was two years older and the “better” daughter. Claudia should have been driving that night, but Marion came to get her because Claudia had celebrated her high-school graduation a little too much. You’d think that would have made Claudia want to stop drinking—and it did, for a while. But nothing dulled the pain like oblivion.
After the meeting, she and Gaye went out for ice cream. Gaye had encouraged her to complete the twelve steps of the AA program. The first time Claudia read them, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Make amends? How the hell was she supposed to do that with her parents? Her tendency had been to make up for feelings of inferiority by overachieving. It didn’t exactly work, but at least she felt less like a schmuck.
“I’ve been trying, but I can’t take all these steps at once,” she confessed to Gaye. “For once, I want to be less than perfect.”
“It’s not a contest, and rushing through the steps won’t do you any good. In fact, it could mess you up even more. But you’re not alone. Lots of people have thought it was impossible. You’ll take the steps as you’re ready for them,” Gaye said. “And I’ll help you.”
“I’m having a hard time just letting memories wash over me and facing reality without a drink.”
“That’s normal.”
“But how do I cope when that happens?”
“You call me.”
“And if you’re not available?”
“Leave me a message and then call someone else. Or if for some reason, you can’t reach anyone, repeat the Serenity Prayer or something like ‘This too shall pass’ until I call you back.”
The program relied heavily on clichés, but those tidbits of wisdom were helping Claudia none
theless. She felt like she was hearing some of them for the first time. Live and Let Live. Easy Does It. One Day at a Time. And, oh, yeah…Keep it Simple, Stupid was a kick in the pants, but one she needed when she was tempted to overdo it. Life was complicated enough, yet apparently alcoholics were adept at mucking it up even more.
Soon she’d be moving and her schedule would change. Her job at the tea shop would keep her busy during the day, and meetings would occupy her evenings. That seemed simple enough.
Gaye reached into her purse and extracted a pen and paper. “Here. I want you to write a gratitude list. Right here. Right now.”
“A what?”
“A list of all the things in your life that you’re grateful for. Nothing is too small or silly to write down. It’s not for anyone’s eyes but yours. Write down at least fifteen things.”
“Fifteen? But what if I can’t—”
“You can. Think about it. I’ll give you as long as it takes for me to finish my ice cream. Now, start writing.”
“Sheesh.” Claudia thought a moment and began.
I’m grateful for…
Steady job.
Cute apartment.
I’m reasonably healthy.
I have an MBA.
Mostly natural blond hair.
Stylish clothes.
A few true friends.
I’m compassionate—especially to underdogs.
I’m making new friends.
Parents who love me in their own annoying way.
Then she scratched out the word “annoying.”
Growing and learning in AA.
Sobriety is making me feel healthy again.
A good sponsor.
Caring boss/boyfriend.
Can actually write a gratitude list and mean it.
I can see I didn’t cause my sister’s death.
I look forward to learning to forgive myself.
Hope.
She stopped writing when she felt tears burning behind her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Anthony, Gaye.”
“Well, I know why you need me,” Gaye joked. “But what is Anthony good for?”
Claudia bit her lower lip. “Call it unconditional love. We all need someone to accept us for who we are. Good and bad. Warts and all. Anthony is that man.”