by Jill Sanders
Chapter Nine
Trent found it very hard to concentrate while Marina and Tommy were in Boston, but the deadlines that loomed over him caused him to stay busy. He spent half his time at the new site sorting out the workers there and the rest of his time at Manhattan Nights. The restaurant was finally recovering from Marina’s bad review. The two large rooms in the back were booked solid for the upcoming holiday seasons, including several large wedding receptions. He knew that a bad review could make or break a restaurant, but it seemed that most of his clientele hadn’t paid too much attention to what others thought, after all.
As he’s always told his staff, his food spoke for itself. He’d spent the first two years after opening Manhattan Nights perfecting his specialty items. They boasted the tastiest roasted duck in town. It had his grandmother’s secret apple dressing on top, something that had been handed down to him and him alone. He didn’t even let his staff know the recipe. Instead, he came in three times a week and cooked up a large batch of it.
That sauce had won more awards than even he could remember. His grandmother, Florence, had brought the recipe over from Sweden when she was a child. It had been handed down from daughter to daughter until he’d shown an interest in cooking instead of his sister Rachelle, who had a talent for numbers and accounting.
Along with the apple dressing, there were a handful of other recipes of his grandmother’s that he used. In fact, there was a large book of them that he kept in his home safe. If it hadn’t been for that book, he never would have had the idea of opening up a restaurant. He owed a lot to his grandmother and mother for encouraging him to follow his dream.
He was working on only a few hours of sleep and had just found out that he’d have to pull a full shift tonight. He’d woken early for a meeting with the foremen at the new site to work through an issue they were having with the ventilation system. After going back and forth with the man and the building inspector for almost an hour, he’d walked away with a growing headache.
Now, as he stood and looked at his busy kitchen, he wondered how he would get the strength to make it through the night.
About an hour into his shift, his cell phone rang. He didn’t let his staff hold onto their cell phones during a shift, but he made an exception for himself. Walking into his office, he answered the call from Marina.
“Hi,” he said as he sat down behind his desk.
“Hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Just the sound of her voice made him smile.
“No, not at all. How was the museum today?”
“Wonderful. Did you know they have this huge game of Operation? You remember that game?”
“Yeah, loved it as a kid.”
“Well, there’s this huge section called Grossology where we learned all about the human body. Tommy loved this thing called the burp machine.” She chuckled and he couldn’t help smiling along. “How was your day?”
“Very long and boring, but much better now that I’ve heard your voice.”
She sighed, and he could just imagine her eyes turning darker as she thought about him.
“Have you decided about the game yet?”
She sighed again. “Yes, I’ve already told Tommy we would go. You would have thought I had given him a new Xbox. I had no idea the kid was into baseball. When I asked him, he started talking to me about some of his favorite teams. I had no idea.”
He smiled. “Sounds like a man after my own heart. What do you say that I pick you two up before the game? That way we can hit the pizza parlor after we win.”
She chuckled. “So sure of yourself, are you?”
“Hey, when you got it, you got it.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
“Sounds great.” He heard a noise and she covered the mouthpiece. “Sorry, duty calls. Looks like one of the boys just broke a hotel lamp. We’ll see you Thursday.”
“I’ll be there around four, in front of your building.”
“Okay, goodnight.”
When he walked back into the kitchen, his headache was gone and he had a slight spring to his step. He didn’t know why talking to her made him feel like he was in school again, but he didn’t want that feeling to go away anytime soon.
“You look happier,” Carla, his chef de partie, said when he walked out of the office. Several other staff members turned to look at him.
“Yeah, I guess my headache is gone.” He smiled and went back to work.
When he finally dragged himself across the street just after two in the morning, his headache was back. His eyes were red and dry and he felt like he had a layer of slime over every inch of him.
He was so tired, he almost missed the fact that the lock on his front door was busted. His door was cracked open just a little and several lights that he knew he had turned off were on.
Taking his cell from his pocket, he dialed 911 and took a step off his stairs. He knew better than to run into the place without thinking. One of his buddies in college had walked in on a burglary and gotten a two-night stay in the hospital for it.
By the time the police arrived, he was sure there was no one in the place. You would have to be an idiot to stick around in a place for over half-an-hour.
A second after the police had confirmed no one was lurking in his place, he went in to see what the damage was. Everything was destroyed. His furniture, his curtains, and his kitchen table had all been chopped up with an ax that was still lying on the floor next to the pieces. Some of his art was in shreds after being cut in long strips. His kitchen scissors were shoved deep into his leather recliner along with several more deep cuts.
His dishes were in pieces on his kitchen floor. When he walked up the stairs into his bedroom, he found a large burn on his bed and was thankful he’d spent the extra money on the flame retardant comforter and mattress the sales person had suggested.
“Whoo-wee, that was a close one,” one of the officers said from behind him. “Could have lost everything.”
“Yeah,” he said under his breath, wondering why someone would destroy everything instead of steal it. Even his large flat-screen televisions were shattered, most likely by the ax, since there were deep holes and cuts in the cases.
“Now why would someone want to get back at you?” the man asked. Trent turned on him and realized it was a different police officer from before. This one was taller and a lot younger than the first two that had shown up.
He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the room. “Good question.”
Marina stood at the train station and glanced over her shoulder for the fourth time. She was sure it was the same man from before. She held onto Tommy’s hand a little tighter.
“Oww,” Tommy said, trying to pull his hand out of hers. “You’re holding me too tight.”
“Oh, sorry.” She released his hand a little as she glanced over her shoulder one more time. It was the same man from their train ride to Boston. The bald man stared at her, not even trying to hide the fact that he was watching them.
Then Brandon’s words came into her head. “I have my ways.” So, this is how he’d known where she was. How long had this man been following them? She grew angry. How dare he hire someone to spy on them? Then she realized the significance of it all. She’d been hiding for the last year, and now it appeared that it had all been in vain. Brandon had no intention of taking Tommy. He wanted her sister. Maybe that’s why Trina had continued to stay away?
They boarded the train and Tommy laid his head in her lap and slept as she thought about what she should do next.
By the time they finally arrived back in New York, she had come up with a plan. And the first thing she had to do was contact her sister. Somehow.
At a quarter to four on Thursday evening, she glanced at her reflection one last time in her mirror. She couldn’t remember feeling this nervous ever before and didn’t know why she was having a hard time of it now. After all, it wasn’t as if it was their first date.
Just then Tommy rushed in wearing his old jea
ns and a baseball jersey she’d gotten him last spring when he’d told her he liked the colors. Smiling, she realized she’d been blind to the fact that the kid was crazy about the sport.
She knelt down in front of him and straightened his shirt. “Don’t you look handsome?”
He looked down at his shoes. “I don’t have baseball shoes.” He frowned and gave her his best sad eyes.
“Well, maybe we can do something about that this weekend.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shot up.
When she nodded, he threw his arms around her neck and hugged her.
“You’re the best, Aunt Mari.” He rushed from the room quickly, leaving her wishing that the hug had lasted a little longer.
They stood out front for a few minutes before she saw Trent pull up in a new silver Mustang. He pulled to a stop right in front of them and jumped out to open the door for them.
“Wow,” Tommy said. “I’ve never ridden in a car before.”
She chuckled. “You’ve ridden in lots of taxis before.”
He looked up at her and sighed. “Yeah, but those aren’t real cars.” He dropped her hand and waved his hands towards Trent’s car. “Not like this.”
“The kid has a point,” Trent said, smiling over at her as he held the door open. “Well, then you’re in for a treat. This happens to be my first time driving a car,” he said, leaning down and talking to Tommy, but not before giving her a quick wink to let her know that he was joking.
“Wow, really?” Tommy took the bait and jumped up and down. “Then we’ll take the maiden voyage,” he said as he jumped into the back seat, surprising her with his knowledge.
She chuckled. “That kid never stops amazing me.” She shook her head and started to get into the car, but he stopped her and pulled her close. The kiss was quick, but seared her to the bones.
“Hello.” He smiled at her as he rubbed his hands over her arms.
“Hi.” She couldn’t have stopped the smile if she had tried. Once she was seated in the car, she reached around to make sure Tommy’s belt was on. She noticed a dark sedan sitting right behind them and thought for a moment that she saw a bald-headed man at the wheel behind the dark glass.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to pick up Joe on the way,” Trent said as he got in.
“No.” She turned around, forgetting all about the car behind them.
By the time the game started, Tommy was so excited, she was having a hard time keeping him on the bleachers.
“Can I go in the dugout?” he asked over and over, to which she had replied at least a dozen times, “Maybe after the game.”
After the first ten minutes, Terry walked up and sat down. Her blonde hair was cut shorter and was curly.
“Hi, who’s this?” She sat next to Tommy.
“Hi.” Tommy held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Tommy. I’m almost eight and have a loose tooth.” He proceeded to show Terry, who chuckled and looked at the tooth with great care.
“You sure do.” She smiled and nodded at Marina. “Looks like someone likes baseball.” She pointed to his shirt.
“I love it. When I grow up I’m going to be in the MLB,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Really?” Terry asked. “Do you see that large man over there?” She pointed to another team member, who was currently playing second base.
Tommy shook his head.
“That’s Kyle Christensen. He used to play for the Orioles.”
“Wow.” Tommy’s eyes got huge and for the rest of the game, he watched the man very closely while the two ladies talked.
“He’s cute,” Terry said, nodding to the boy.
“Yeah, but a handful.” They giggled.
Twenty minutes through the second inning, the rain started. Marina pulled out her umbrella and she and Tommy and Terry huddled as close together as they could until it got so bad, everyone sprinted for shelter. After ten minutes of crowding under the concession stands awning, the game was called.
When they jumped back into Trent’s car, she sat back and watched the crowds pass as they walked on the wet sidewalks.
“Well, I hope you two are still hungry,” Trent said as he pulled into a strip mall area.
“I’m starving,” Tommy said from the back seat.
“Great, because they serve some of the best spaghetti here, aside from my own.” He parked and turned towards Marina and smiled, and she felt her heart skip.
“So you can cook?” she asked, smiling. She thought she saw something flash in his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.
“I’ve been known to bang around a few pots and pans.” He turned and looked at Tommy. “How about you?”
Tommy made a funny face and frowned, and then surprised them by saying, “Cooking’s for girls.” They both laughed.
Chapter Ten
After watching the kid down a whole plate of spaghetti, he decided to make the kid portions at Manhattan Nights bigger. And maybe even add a dessert while he was at it.
“Does he always put away that much food?” he asked on their short drive back to her place. The kid had passed out the second he hit the back seat.
She chuckled and looked back at the sleeping boy. “Yeah. When I first started watching him, I thought for sure within the first month that he would be overweight.” She shook her head and glanced at him. “Oh, to have that metabolism again.”
He pulled into a parking spot just down the street from her door. “I’ll carry him up.” He jumped out. Since the rain had slowed to a light drizzle, she nodded and opened her umbrella to cover the sleepy boy as he carried him down the sidewalk and up the stairs outside her building.
He maneuvered through the narrow doors and then followed her down the hall towards the back stairs and up to the second floor. Their apartment was on the backside of the old building, one of the three on her floor.
She opened her door and held it wide for him to step in. The apartment was small. Really small. But he followed her as she walked down a narrow hallway towards the kid’s bedroom.
His first thought on seeing the size of her place was that Tommy’s room was going to be cramped and crowded. He was shocked when he saw that the kid’s room was bigger than the living room and kitchen together. Everything was organized and the floor was cleared of toys and clothes.
“Wow, looks like the kid knows how to clean,” he said softly as he laid the little boys limp body on the bed and stood back and watched Marina slip his shoes off gently.
“Number one rule,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled the kid’s damp jacket off him and tucked him into bed. “I normally don’t let him sleep in his clothes, but I’ll allow it this time.” She stood and walked towards the door. He followed and flipped off the light she’d turned on before shutting the door behind them. “How about a cup of coffee?”
He shook his head. “Don’t touch the stuff, but I’m sure you have a cup of hot chocolate around.” He smiled and pulled her closer.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She leaned up on her toes and placed a kiss on his lips.
“Mmm,” he said when she pulled away. “Sweet as honey. Just the way I remembered.”
When she tried to pull away more, he held her still. “Just a little more.” He took his time and explored every curve that he could get his hands on. He wanted more, but he knew that there was a little boy fast asleep just on the other side of the door.
He pulled back slowly, giving her time to recover. “Now how about that hot chocolate?”
She smiled and he could tell she was a little unsteady on her feet. He felt the same way and as he sat in her small but highly organized living room, he wondered why he was still playing the game with her.
Sometime in the past few days he’d come to the conclusion that Marina was not the root of his problems. There was no way she was on the take. He was still considering the possibility of her being blackmailed and he knew he had to find out.
When she sat down next to him, ca
rrying a tray holding two cups full of hot chocolate with colorful marshmallows floating on top, he knew he had to try and find out as much as he could.
“What do you do, exactly?” He tried to sound casual as he took a sip from his cup. He watched fear shoot into her eyes, but it was quickly followed by something else. He might have described it as surrender.
“I’m a writer,” she said quickly, taking a sip from her cup and crossing her feet underneath her.
“Yes, so you’ve said. But you don’t write books.” She shook her head. “You write for a paper?” When she nodded, he lifted his eyebrows, waiting.
“I write self-help articles.” She cupped her hands around her cup and blew softly as steam floated out.
“Self-help? How to cook? How to clean?”
She nodded. “I have several of those.” She chuckled. “Have you heard of Meddling Marci?”
He sat up a little. “You’re Meddling Marci?” When she nodded, he whistled. “Wow, I’m sitting next to a celebrity.” He watched her blush a little. “That article has been running for over five years.” She nodded again. “Everyone in Manhattan wants to know who Marci is.” She glanced at him and he chuckled. “Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.” He set his cup down and then took hers from her hands and set it next to his. When he pulled her close, she sighed and relaxed in his arms. “What other articles do you write?”
“Oh, I have a few about organization.”
He chuckled. “I can tell. I’ve never been in such a small place that felt so comfortable before.”
She smiled and looked up at him. “Thank you. I have one I just started last year about kid friendly places to visit in the city.”
“I could see some benefit to that one.” He watched her bite her lip and think about her next words.
“I also write as a food critic.” He tried to act surprised.
“Food critic, huh?”
She nodded her head and sat up a little. “That one seems to get me in the most trouble though.” She reached for her mug again. “You’d be surprised what some restaurants will do to get a good review.”
