by Maria Geraci
“You’d better get the rest going or all you’re going to have is a sticky brown mess.” Abuela might not be the best cook herself, but she certainly seemed to know how to direct.
Grace placed the remaining ingredients into a blender and whirled them together. She took a second to sniff the frothy liquid. The smell of vanilla wafted up, enveloping her in familiar comfort. She got out the pan her mother used to bake the flan, set it on the counter and frowned. Something was missing. . . .
“You need to make a baño de Maria. So that the flan doesn’t stick to the pan,” Abuela said.
Of course. Grace got out a large rectangular pan and filled it with an inch of hot water, then set it aside.
“Did you preheat the oven?” Abuela asked.
“Yep.” She’d done that first thing. She wasn’t totally incompetent. She could make arroz con pollo, but that was pretty much the only Cuban dish she knew how to make. Maybe she should get Mami to teach her how to make some staples, like ropa vieja and picadillo. Grace stored that away as one of her New Year’s resolutions.
Once the sugar melted, Grace poured the caramel mixture from the skillet into a Bundt pan, quickly swirling it around to evenly distribute it. Satisfied the entire pan was coated in the caramel, she set it aside to let it cool. Abuela glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, then went back to watching her show. After the caramel had set, Grace poured the liquid flan mixture on top, then placed the Bundt pan inside the larger pan filled with hot water and put the whole thing in the oven.
There! That wasn’t so hard.
“Don’t forget to cool it well before placing it in the refrigerator,” Abuela said. “But when you’re ready to flip it, make sure it’s been at room temperature first. Do you have a plate to serve it in?”
Grace nodded. “Thanks, Abuela.”
“For what? You already knew how to make a flan.”
12
I’ll Take What’s Behind Door Number One, Please
Wednesday was busy. The Thanksgiving holiday exodus into Florida had backed up southbound traffic on I-95, which meant tourists were stopping at the store. Florida Charlie’s hadn’t seen this much business since last February during Speed Week. Grace was supposed to get off work at three, but it wasn’t until almost five that she was able to sneak away. She dashed home, took the flan out of the fridge, and drove to Sunshine Smiles. There was no time to ease the flan out of the pan so Grace would just have to give it to Joe as is and explain to him how to flip it.
She parked alongside the building and carefully lifted the pan out of the passenger seat, then glanced around the parking lot. The place was empty except for two cars, neither of which were a black Range Rover. She was too late. Joe must have already left for the day. Grace felt a ping of disappointment. Which was silly. The flan would keep. She could bring it to Joe on Monday and he could share it with his office staff. Except she had to admit, she’d been looking forward to seeing him again. Not because she was anxious to apologize and eat crow. Who would look forward to that? But she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was attracted to him. In a completely superficial way, of course. And even though she had no intention of doing anything about that attraction, it never hurt to look.
Since she’d driven all the way over, she should check to make sure Joe wasn’t in the office. Besides, she could leave the flan with one of his staff. Surely they had a fridge inside their break room. She had her hand on the office door, when it opened from the other side, bringing her face-to-face with Tanya. The older woman’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“Grace, it’s so nice to see you!” Tanya hugged her. “What are you doing here? You didn’t have an appointment, did you? Melanie and I were about to close up.”
Grace looked beyond Tanya to see Melanie standing in the doorway with a large wicker basket in her hands.
“I ran into Dr. Joe at Publix on Sunday and he mentioned he was cooking Thanksgiving dinner. So I made him a flan.”
“How nice,” Tanya said, but Grace thought she detected a trace of knowing humor beneath the words.
“That makes six dozen cookies, three cakes, four dozen brownies, one torte, and a flan,” Melanie said. She took the pan from Grace’s hands and placed it inside the basket. “Dr. Joe’s patients have been very generous this holiday. I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Patients were bringing Joe baked goods? Apparently, the office staff weren’t the only ones enamored of good ol’ Dr. Joe. Tanya must think Grace had some sort of crush on him. Well, she would just disabuse her of that notion this instant.
“The flan is more of an apology than a holiday gift. I thought, well . . .” There was absolutely no delicate way of saying this. “I thought Dr. Joe had fired you,” she said to Tanya. “So I called him out on it in my patient satisfaction survey.”
Tanya looked taken aback. “Why would you think that?”
Melanie frowned. “You didn’t give Dr. Joe all tens? Everyone gives Dr. Joe straight tens.”
“The firing thing was a misunderstanding. Or rather . . . I jumped to the wrong conclusion. And I actually did give Dr. Joe and the staff all tens. It was the free text portion of the survey where I blasted him.”
Tanya chuckled. “You didn’t read Dr. Fred’s letter, did you? I’m sorry, but Joe’s gone for the day. Why don’t you drop the flan off at his house?” Tanya plucked the wicker basket from Melanie’s hands and gave it to Grace. “As a matter of fact, you can bring him the whole basket while you’re at it.”
“Hey! I was going to give that to Joe myself,” Melanie said.
“I know, sweetie, but this way you’ll have time to make your Pilates class,” said Tanya.
Melanie looked genuinely torn. Dr. Joe or Pilates? Grace had to admit, Melanie knew how to work those pouty lips. Watching Melanie mull over the choice was fascinating. Grace wondered how much collagen implants cost these days.
“You’re right,” Melanie said finally. “I’d hate to miss Pilates class the night before Thanksgiving. Got to get a head start on working off all those carbs.” She said good-bye to Tanya and took off in her car.
Tanya wrote Joe’s address down on a slip of paper and handed it to Grace.
“Doesn’t showing up at his house uninvited cross the line in the patient-dentist relationship?” Grace asked.
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t give out his home address,” Tanya said, “but I’ve known you for a long time, so I know you’re not some crazy stalker.” She smiled at her own joke. “Poor Joe was worried all day over this dinner. He’ll be relieved to know dessert is a done deal.” Tanya hesitated a moment and added, “You’ll be doing Joe a big favor. I’d do it myself, but I’m on my way to babysit my grandkids and I don’t want to be late.” She looked like she was going to say something more, but then changed her mind. Grace had the distinct impression the something more involved Melanie.
She might not be a crazed stalker, but she still felt uneasy standing in front of Joe’s two-story stucco townhouse. The ironic part was that he only lived a half mile from her place. No wonder she’d bumped into him at her Publix. It was his Publix too. The small front yard was neatly manicured but bare of shrubs or flowers. There was a ten-speed bicycle on the front porch and Grace could see his Range Rover tucked inside the otherwise empty garage. She rang the bell and hoped that Tanya was right about Joe not minding a surprise visit from one of his patients.
He didn’t look surprised to see her. He looked relieved.
“I come bearing gifts.” Grace handed him the basket. “There’s a flan—that’s from me—six dozen cookies, three cakes, four dozen brownies, and a torte.” She frowned. “Or is it three tortes and a cake?”
“Thank God.” He waved her inside.
The living room was an exact replica of hers, except it looked like it still had the original carpet and the walls were painted the same boring beige color that had once adorned the walls of Grace’s town house. The only furniture was a leather couch and a plasma-screen
TV. Joe could use some much needed decorating advice from Sarah. Maybe she’d give him her card and do them both a favor.
She gave the TV a double take. “A little hypocritical, don’t you think? What with your ‘no television in the waiting room’ policy?”
He shrugged, but he didn’t seem embarrassed getting caught. “Monday night football,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“So is it normal for you to get a house call from a patient? You seem like you were expecting me.”
“Tanya called to tell me you were on your way. Listen, I really appreciate it.” Something in his voice told her that the favor extended to more than just delivering dessert.
It wasn’t hard to figure out the reason Tanya had practically insisted Grace deliver the basket of baked goods herself. Grace wondered if Joe appreciated the way Tanya was looking out for him.
“Poor Dr. Joe. What are you going to do about Melanie’s big crush on you?”
“Just Joe,” he reminded her. “And the hell if I know. I can’t very well fire her. She’s Dr. Fred’s niece.”
“I know. I finally got around to reading the letter. You’re practically a saint.”
The friendly expression in his eyes died.
What was wrong with her? She’d come here to apologize, not pick a fight. Why was it so hard for her to admit she’d been wrong about him? She thought about what Abuela had said about her stubbornness.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. And I’m sorry I accused you of firing Tanya. I thought maybe a nice flan might make my apology seem more sincere. Plus, I thought you might be able to use it for your Thanksgiving party tomorrow.”
She looked over at the small kitchen area to the right. The turkey, still wrapped in its original plastic, sat on the countertop. It was surrounded by what appeared to be some of the ingredients he’d bought at the grocery store on Sunday.
“Joe, please tell me that turkey hasn’t been sitting on your counter for the past four days.”
“Was I supposed to refrigerate it?”
“Um . . .”
He laughed. “I took microbiology, remember? I just took it out of the fridge a few minutes ago to prep it. Or clean it. I’m not sure which, but I know I’m supposed to do something to it.”
He was all friendly again and Grace let out an unconscious sigh of relief that he’d accepted her apology, as well as for the fact that he hadn’t let the turkey become a salmonella breeding ground. It would be near impossible to find another turkey this size so close to Thanksgiving.
He looked inside the basket. “How did you know flan was my favorite?” Before she could respond, he asked, “Does it need to go in the fridge? I’ll be honest on this one, I have no idea.”
“Actually, it needs to be flipped first, then refrigerated again. I can do it while I’m here, if you’d like. I’d meant to do it before coming over but I was running late.”
He eyed her Florida Charlie’s T-shirt and her khaki shorts and sneakers but he didn’t say anything. Might as well get this out of the way.
“Yes, you’ve probably figured out by now that I work at Florida Charlie’s. And before you make any wisecracks, let me tell you that my parents own the store. My dad is the one-and-only Florida Charlie himself.”
Instead of laughing, Joe looked impressed. “No kidding. We used to stop there on the way to my dad’s condo in St. Augustine. I thought it was just about the coolest place on earth. Is the alligator still around?”
“Yep, he’s still around.” It was silly, but she couldn’t help but be pleased that Joe remembered Gator Claus. “The shop hasn’t changed much in fifty years.” Which is part of the problem, Grace thought. “You should stop by sometime. I’ll throw in a free Florida Charlie’s T-shirt, seeing that you’re my dentist and all.”
Joe placed the baked goods on the kitchen countertop next to the cans of green beans and whole kernel corn. “I thought you fired me in your patient satisfaction survey. By the way, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve now got People and Cosmo in the waiting room. But I refuse to subscribe to the National Enquirer.”
She had been wondering when he was going to bring up the patient satisfaction survey.
Really? He’d taken her seriously about the magazines? Grace couldn’t help but be pleased.
“You know, supposedly the National Enquirer is pretty accurate most of the time. And in my defense, I did give you all tens. I only blasted you in the free text portion because I thought you’d fired Tanya.”
“Why did you think that?”
“I jumped to a wrong conclusion based on something Melanie said. I know, it was totally unfair. Sorry.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“What?”
“Jump to wrong conclusions.” Joe leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. It was a good look for him. Confident. Sexy. In control.
Grace cleared her throat. “Not normally, no.” At least, she didn’t think she did. “And . . . I’m sorry for firing you. So are we good? Will you still be my dentist?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him hoping he would laugh.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea to keep you on as a patient, Grace.”
She hadn’t expected that.
“Oh. Right. I can see—”
“Like I told you at the grocery store, I don’t date my office staff. And I don’t date my patients either.”
“You want to go out with me?”
He raised a brow at her incredulousness. “I thought I made what I wanted pretty clear a couple of weeks ago at the Wobbly Duck.”
Grace snorted. “I don’t think what you wanted that night could be called a date.”
“Okay . . . fair enough. But unless I’m getting my signals crossed,” he paused, “and I don’t think I am, I’d say you’re pretty interested too. We can do this any way you want. We can start off as friends and meet for coffee, or we can take it up a notch and do dinner and a movie, or we can cut to the chase and have a few hours of hot, sweaty sex. I’ll be honest, I’d like all three of those, but it’s your call.”
For a moment she was speechless. She felt like a game-show contestant with Joe as the smarmy master of ceremonies offering her the choice of three different doors. Door number one: friends. Door number two: more than friends. Door number three: a lot more than friends.
Joe was right. She was attracted to him. She’d already admitted that to herself. But the warning bell in the pit of her stomach didn’t just ding whenever she was around Joe; it clanged. Hopelessly attracted to hopelessly attractive men. What was the point of the boyfriend club if not to learn from her previous mistakes?
“The hot, sweaty sex sounds lovely, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass. As for dinner and a movie, that’s a date, and I’ll be honest, Joe, I don’t think that’s going to work out between us.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, you’re too good-looking.”
He blinked, clearly nonplussed, and Grace felt a twinge of satisfaction that she’d left him momentarily speechless.
“And that’s a problem, because . . .?”
The fact that he didn’t deny he knew he was good-looking actually scored a few points in his favor. False modesty was one thing, but out-and-out denial of the obvious, especially when the obvious stared at him in the mirror each morning, would only fuel the argument she was about to hit him with.
“It’s a problem because in the past I’ve let appearances taint my other relationships. I’ve let guys like you get away with crap just because you have a pretty mug. But if I take away that face of yours I’m left with one indisputable known fact about you. You’re disingenuous. Are you also nice? Yeah, I’ll give you that. Smart, most definitely. But you’re also full of shit, and I don’t feel like starting another relationship where all I do is shovel.”
“Wow. Tell me what you really think of me, Grace.”
Had she gone too far? Grace O’Bryan, ballbuster. But she wasn’t telling him this t
o achieve any feelings of self-righteous feminine superiority. When all was said and done, she kind of liked him. And she wanted to be honest.
“‘What’s a nice pair of legs like yours doing in a place like this?’ ” she mocked. “My personal favorite though, and excuse me if I’m paraphrasing, is ‘I meet the girl of my dreams and she’s meeting someone else.’ I’m curious, Joe, how many other girls have you said that to?”
“I wanted to get laid, Grace. I don’t think I’m the only guy in America who’s guilty of that.”
She didn’t say anything and neither did he. But then he smiled and she smiled and they ended up laughing.
“All right, considering our first meet, I’ll buy the disingenuous bit. But are you going to hold that against me forever?”
“Not at all. I find the idea of being your friend kind of intriguing. So I pick the friends and coffee option.”
“I guess I walked right into that one.”
“You told me to pick.”
“How about the friends and a beer option?” He nudged his head in the direction of the kitchen counter. “I could use some friendly help right about now.”
“Domestic or imported?”
He opened the fridge. “Domestic. Sam Adams, to be exact.”
“Okay. But I don’t peel potatoes.”
Joe found a suitable plate for the flan and Grace flipped it the way she’d seen Mami do a million times. The syrup spread slowly, making a halo around the custard. Grace couldn’t help but be pleased. It looked as good as the flans Mami made.
Joe swirled his finger around the edge of the plate and took a taste of the syrup. “Nice.”
“It’s my first flan,” Grace told him. “My abuela—that means grandmother—showed me how to make one. Although why I haven’t made one until now is beyond me. I’m thirty years old.”
