by Maria Geraci
“Does this mean you’ll go out with me again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Why don’t we start back at square one and see how it goes.”
“Fair enough.” He picked up his drink and held it in the air, waiting. Grace raised her wine and they clinked glasses. “I’m glad we’re friends again. You have no idea how much I’ve missed Zumba class these past few weeks.”
When had Brandon become so funny?
“You pretty much sucked.”
“The strange thing is, even though the reason I joined was because of you, I actually ended up liking it.”
“Really? You joined because of me and you couldn’t even remember my name?”
“I knew your name. But I was upset, and I admit . . . more than a little drunk on cheap beer and my own self-importance that night.”
“Darlene will be thrilled to have you back in class. She misses you terribly. You were her one great challenge.”
He laughed and Grace was reminded of how handsome he was. They spent the next few minutes talking about food. Brandon had an opinion on every dish on the menu, so Grace decided to let him order for her. She’d just taken a bite of their appetizer, a heavenly garlic-laden, butter-soaked escargot, when her cell phone buzzed. “Charlie, where are you?”
“Something came up at work and I’m going to have to ditch the meeting. Sorry, I feel bad about this. Is Farrell there yet?”
“He’s here.”
“Then he can fill you in on what we’ve talked about. Be nice to him, Grace. Farrell’s on our side.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Grace snapped her phone shut. “Charlie can’t make it,” she told Brandon. She narrowed her eyes at him. “The two of you didn’t plan this, did you?”
“You think I convinced your brother to lure you here to Chez Louis, then had him bail just so I could have you alone for dinner? That’s a lot of work, don’t you think? You’re cute, but you’re not . . .” He paused, then smiled. “Yeah, you’re that cute.”
Once upon a time she would have been flattered by his flirtation. But he seemed more friendly than serious, and she had to admit, she was beginning to like Brandon. She thought about how Joe had called Brandon an asshole. Brandon had called himself that too. But he’d also apologized for his bad behavior and all that appeared to be behind them now. Grace was a big girl. She didn’t need Joe Rosenblum telling her how to think. She could make up her own mind where Brandon Farrell was concerned.
“I had no idea Charlie was your brother until he approached me last week about the store,” Brandon said.
“How do you two know each other?”
“Our bank does business with his firm. He’s a sharp guy.”
“I agree. So let’s cut to the chase. What’s the deal? And make it simple.”
Brandon looked impressed by her bluntness. “I’m part of a group of private investors who are interested in highway real estate. But we’re not looking to turn around the land any time soon, so my proposition is this: Let my investment group buy Florida Charlie’s. The store can stay as is for a guaranteed minimum of three years, with you as manager, if you’d like. We’ll take responsibility for everything. At the end of the three-year term we’ll either put the land up for sale or reconsider extending the time frame.”
Grace felt her jaw drop. This was her brother’s big idea to “save” Florida Charlie’s?
“So what do you say, Grace? Everyone wins here. Your parents get a payout right away, and Florida Charlie’s and your job stay intact for three years with no worries about making payroll or repairs on a building that, quite frankly—according to what Charlie tells me—is falling apart.”
What did she say?
She had a lot to say.
But she’d promised Charlie she’d play nice tonight. On the other hand, Charlie wasn’t here, so screw him.
Grace tried to rally Mal Genio to do something. Say something. Anything at all.
But the truth was . . . she wasn’t angry. Because the more she thought about it, the more Brandon made sense, and once she was able to process that, all she could feel was sadness. Sadness that Charlie could be so cavalier about the whole deal that he couldn’t even bother showing up to tell her about it himself. Sadness that the store her parents loved so much wouldn’t be around for Grace’s children to see. And most of all, strangely enough, sadness for herself.
“I appreciate you meeting with me,” she told Brandon. “But I honestly don’t think my father will go for that.”
“That’s what Charlie said, but if the two of you together convince him it’s for the best, maybe you can get him to consider it.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “If the business continues on the downward trend it’s on, eventually your father will have to sell. The options might not be so good then.”
17
I Haven’t the Least Idea of Loving Him, Or Anyone Else for That Matter
It was the Wednesday before Christmas and Luigi’s was packed. Grace was the last one out of the four of them to arrive. “Did you order breadsticks?” she asked Sarah.
“Of course we did,” Sarah said. “Don’t worry, they should be here any minute so you can get your carb fix.”
“How was the mall?” Penny asked.
Grace and Penny were splitting managerial duties at the shop today. Grace had taken the morning off to do some last-minute Christmas shopping and the afternoon would be Penny’s turn.
“Ghastly. But I’m done shopping, so I can now officially enjoy the holidays.”
“I have finals to grade, then I’ll start my shopping, and I have absolutely no idea what to get my mother this year. I’ve never been so behind before,” Ellen grumbled.
The waiter took their orders and left a basket of hot breadsticks.
“There’s a kiosk near the food court where they’re selling silk scarves. I bought Abuela two of them. You should check it out,” she advised Ellen.
“What did you get Charlie?” Sarah asked.
“From me? He’s getting a lump of coal.”
She told them about Charlie’s idea to sell the store and about her dinner with Brandon and how Charlie had been a no-show.
Sarah tossed her napkin across the table in disgust. “I can’t believe Charlie could be so cold about this.”
“Do you think your dad will go for it?” Penny asked.
“No, but . . .” Grace shrugged. “Charlie seems pretty confident. I convinced him to wait until after the holidays to approach Pop with the offer.”
No one said anything for a minute.
“I finally finished the Dragon’s house,” Sarah said, trying to sound upbeat. “There’s a couple of pieces on back order that won’t come in until after the first of the year, but otherwise, it’s pretty much done.”
“Is it horrible looking?” Ellen asked.
“Nothing I decorate is horrible. The house is a real stunner, despite the floral couch in the living room. She’s throwing a big housewarming party after the holidays to show it off.” She paused. “She found out my divorce is almost final and she wants me to meet her doctor son. Which reminds me, in celebration of my upcoming divorce and spending the rest of my life being fixed up with men that no one else wants to date, I’m throwing a New Year’s Eve divorce party. My place. Just the four of us.”
“Her son’s a doctor? You should go for it,” Ellen said.
Sarah took a sip of her water. “What do you think, Grace?”
“Definitely!” Grace urged.
Sarah smiled brightly. “You’re right. Maybe he won’t be so bad after all.”
“That’s the spirit! So what are we going to do at this New Year’s Eve party?” Grace asked. “Should I bring something?”
“Just your sweet self. We’re going to eat chocolate fondue and drink cold champagne and watch chick flicks.”
“Sounds good,” said Ellen. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” said Penny.
“How was it being forced to have dinner with Brandon Farrell?”
Sarah asked. “Did you want to stab him with a fork?” Her face got a funny look on it. “Grace, you didn’t stab him with a fork, did you?”
“Mal Genio behaved beautifully. And . . . actually, we had a good time.” This was met by a stunned silence that made Grace laugh. “I know, hard to believe.” She went into more detail about the dinner, including Brandon’s explanation of how he’d let himself be led by evil Doug, aka Iago.
“That’s such a weird coincidence how both Brandon and his friend Doug were reviewed in our boyfriend club. Don’t you think?” Sarah asked.
“It just goes to show how few eligible men there are in this town,” Grace said. “Oh, and Felix wants me to call him.”
“You’re not, are you?” Ellen asked.
“He’s got to be on drugs,” Penny muttered.
“The only reason I’d ever call Felix Barberi is to make a reservation at Chez Louis. Which, by the way, you totally need if you ever plan to go there. Despite the ridiculous prices, the place has really taken off.”
“So now what? The two of you are, like, friends?” Penny asked.
“Who? Me and Felix, or me and Brandon?” Before Penny could clarify, Grace continued. “Felix and I will never be friends, but yeah, I guess Brandon wants to be friends. Actually, he wants to go out again. Which, believe it or not, I’m considering. So the moral of the story is never say never. He even told me that walking out on our date was the best thing any one has ever done for him.”
She tried to conjure up an image of Brandon at the Wobbly Duck, but strangely enough a vision of Joe and what lay behind that door number three of his popped into her head instead. “Get this. Brandon said I ‘make him want to be a better man.’ ” Grace made air quotes with her fingers for the last part.
Penny and Sarah giggled.
Ellen, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet up until now, let out a large gasp. She laid down her fork and reached into her bag to pull out her iPhone.
“I told you Brandon was a nice guy,” Sarah said. “So he’s a follower, not a leader. The fact that he knows he’s screwed up and tried so hard to make it up to you shows a lot of character.”
“And anyone who can quote Jack Nicholson can’t be that bad,” Penny added.
Ellen cleared her throat and began reading from her iPhone screen. “‘I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit.’ ”
Grace moaned. “Ellen, are you reading Pride and Prejudice to us?”
“‘By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.’ ”
“Ellen, please stop. You’re scaring me,” Grace said.
“You’re scaring all of us,” Penny muttered.
“Grace! Don’t you see?” Ellen cried. “Brandon Farrell is Mr. Darcy! Number one: He’s rich and handsome and seems unattainable. Number two: You have a crush on him from afar and he finally asks you out, but he disses you on the date, and you tell him you wouldn’t go out with him again if he was the last man on earth. Number three: He tries to apologize in the form of flowers and champagne, but you don’t buy it. Finally, and here’s the really good part, he offers to help your family by buying the business and you begin to see him in a different light.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms in triumph. “If that isn’t a classic case of a Mr. Darcy, then what is?”
“I hate to say it, but I think Ellen is on to something,” Penny said.
“No wonder we could never classify him before,” Sarah said. “We didn’t have all the facts. Ellen’s right. He’s your Mr. Darcy!”
“Brandon’s offer to buy Florida Charlie’s isn’t some altruistic gesture,” Grace pointed out. “He plans to make money off it.”
“Yeah, but it’s a genuine solution to the problem,” Ellen said. “And by helping out the store, he’s helping you out. Right?”
“Okay, I admit it, at first I was really into Brandon, but that was before our date. Now, I think he’s probably potential good friend material. Honestly, I’m not interested in anyone right now.”
“Women have been making speeches like that for centuries and then bam! They end up married to the guy they said they only liked as a friend. As far as I’m concerned, he’s your Mr. Darcy and I’ll never be convinced otherwise,” Ellen said.
18
The Way to a Woman’s Heart Is Through Her Stuffed Alligator
“What do you think, Gator Claus, is Brandon Farrell my Mr. Darcy?”
Grace watched carefully for any change of expression on the alligator’s face. The idea of Brandon being her Mr. Darcy was so ludicrous Grace wanted to laugh. But it hadn’t just been Ellen who’d thought it. Penny and Sarah were on board too, which made Grace wonder if maybe, just maybe, as ridiculous as it all sounded, Ellen might be on to something.
“One day, you’re going to answer me. I can wait. I’m pretty patient, although—”
“Grace?”
She stiffened. There was that voice again. Had he heard her talking to the alligator? God, she hoped not, because she really wasn’t sure how to explain that one. She turned around. Joe wore a set of dark blue scrubs with a U of F sweatshirt over the top.
“Aren’t you supposed to be drilling into people’s mouths or something else equally sadistic?”
“You really have a problem with the drill, don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t? Well, except maybe people who are into that, but I’m not one of them.”
“Too bad.”
“Poor Dr. Joe. All fun and no work.”
“Call me Dr. Joe again and I’ll think you were serious about being just friends.”
There was a directness in Joe’s gaze that made Grace feel awfully warm despite the cool fifty-degree temperature outside.
“What are you doing here?” Grace asked.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by for that free T-shirt you promised.”
In the neighborhood? It seemed highly unlikely he’d be eating lunch in the vicinity of Florida Charlie’s in the middle of a workday. With traffic, it was at least a thirty-minute drive from his office just one way.
“Thanks again for the other night. All that stuff going on with Sarah? It really helped to talk it out.”
“Have you told her yet?”
“No, and I’m not going to. She and Craig are definitely getting a divorce, so it kind of takes me off the hook.”
“Maybe you should tell her anyway.” Was that disapproval she heard in his voice?
“What for? It would only hurt her feelings, and she’s in a bad enough place as it is.” Before he could respond, she opened the front door to the store and waved him inside. “You really want a T-shirt? Come on in and I’ll set you up.”
They had just entered the store when a well-dressed middle-aged woman came up to Grace. “Excuse me, do you work here?”
It always amused Grace that people would ask that question, considering that she had on the Florida Charlie’s uniform, but she always chalked it up to politeness.
“How can I help you?” Grace asked.
“I’ll just wait over here,” Joe said, making tracks for the alligator tooth display.
“I was wondering if you have any Hiawatha dolls?” The woman frowned. “Or maybe I’m not calling them by the right name?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to,” Grace said. “Can you describe it?”
“It’s an Indian doll, or rather I guess you’d call them Native American now, but the doll was about six or maybe seven inches tall with long braids.” The woman smiled ruefully. “When I was a little girl we used to come down to the beach every summer and we’d stop here at Florida Charlie’s. My mother would let all us kids pick one treat from the store. One summer, I think I was about five, I
picked out the Hiawatha doll, but she was too pricey. I spent the rest of that vacation begging my parents to buy me the doll.”
She chuckled, in the way that adults did whenever they remembered something obnoxious they did as kids. “Mother said if I was a good girl, she’d think about it. Well, let me tell you, I was a very good girl, so on the way back to Atlanta—that’s where I was raised—we stopped here again and she bought me the doll.”
Grace could sense there was more to the story, so she smiled and waited patiently.
“We weren’t in the car ten minutes before my sister, who was four at the time, decided she wanted to hold the doll. Of course I said no. She’d already picked her treat from Florida Charlie’s, so why should I share my doll with her? We started to tussle in the back seat—that was before you had to wear seat belts—and Daddy started yelling for us to stop because he couldn’t pay attention to the road. But my sister and I kept fighting, and even my brothers were getting into it. So Mother just turned around, plucked that doll out of my hands, and tossed her out the car window onto the highway.”
Grace gasped. “That’s awful,” she said, smiling in sympathy.
“That was my mother,” the woman said affectionately. “She told me if I couldn’t share, then I didn’t deserve the doll. I cried all the way home, but I never fought with my sister in the car again.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I wish I knew where I could get one of those dolls. I’ve tried eBay but I’ve never seen one. I know it sounds silly. I’m fifty years old, but I swore if I ever saw a doll like that again, I’d buy one.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Grace said. “I think I remember the doll you’re talking about, but we haven’t sold anything like that in a long time.”
The woman looked disappointed but resigned. “Thanks, anyway.” She strolled to the back of the store, to the Hemingway corner. Grace was still thinking about the woman’s story when Joe approached her.
