“A few minutes ago you were worried about my meter cheating you and now you want to stop at a food kitchen and give away money?”
“It’s a charity, right?”
“Yes.”
“They do good, right?”
His second “yes” came slower, as if he was trying to figure out her angle.
“I want to write them a check.” She dug through her purse to make sure—Yes, there it was. Her checkbook; her ticket to having a son.
He looked as if he wanted to argue some more, but finally made a right and circled back, parking in front of an old brick church. It was squeezed in by a neighborhood that had once been actively growing and encroaching, but now seemed little more than deserted.
“You really going in there?” he asked when she unlocked her door.
“Yes.”
He reached over and opened the glove box, bumping her knee with the back of his hand as he did so, which sent her traitorous libido off on a tangent. He said something to her, but none of his words registered. She preferred to blame it on the drugs they’d given her at the hospital, but she didn’t think they’d given her anything that would account for this. Still, if he noticed anything amiss, that’s exactly what she’d claim.
“Take it off.”
Startled, she dared ask, “What?”
He leaned back in the corner where his seat met the door and stretched his right arm along the back between them.
“It’ll be safe in here, really. Don’t look at me like I’ve got two heads. Most of these people are all right, they’re just here for a little help, but why tempt the one who doesn’t care that he can hock your diamond for only twenty bucks? To him, it’s that much closer to his next fix.”
“Oh, my ring! I thought you said my, uh, my drink, and of course I don’t have one.”
“Actually, I said ‘jewelry.’ “
She stuck her finger in her ear and wiggled it. “Darned explosion. I still can’t hear right.”
When she started to remove the one gold earring that hadn’t been lost in the blast, he leaned toward her and brushed her hand down. “Don’t make a show of it.” His gaze darted around, checking their surroundings.
“What?” Her gaze followed the path of his. “You’re expecting an onslaught of eagle-eyed homeless people to storm the car?”
“Go on, make fun of me if you want, but they have pride, just like anyone else. They don’t need rich people flashing their gold jewelry in front of them.”
“Oh.” She really did need a mentor.
“Take it off.”
She surreptitiously removed her earring and dropped it into the glove box, followed by her rings.
“The bracelet, too.”
“I don’t have a—”
He stared pointedly at her right arm, so she did, too.
Oh yeah, that. It had two gold tone chains. One held three oval charms, each engraved with a single word: Serenity, Courage, and Wisdom. Dangling from the other were small stars, shiny, some embellished with a single rhinestone, the rest punch-cut with numerals one to eighteen. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible.
“Whatever you do, don’t take it off.”
She heard it as clearly as if Elizabeth were sitting beside her, which Lilly knew she wasn’t, because she looked. She turned around and checked the backseat, too, and just outside the car, in case she’d traded in her long white robe for a dirty, threadbare overcoat.
“Meter’s running.”
That got her moving. And when she realized her actions were motivated by money—again—she started to chide herself, but then gave herself a break because she’d been blown sky-high today, literally, and she’d do better tomorrow. Besides which, she’d been around and around this darned bracelet half a dozen times, with no luck.
“There’s no clasp.”
He leaned back in his corner again, a picture of patience. “Well, how’d you get it on?”
“Elizabeth did it.”
“The same Elizabeth you think sent me.” It sounded more like an assessment of her sanity than a question.
Maybe he didn’t know Elizabeth sent him. Maybe he was just the type of person she needed, so voila, here he was. She hoped when she got back to heaven that someone up there gave her a comment card to fill out. She had a thing or two to say regarding their procedures.
Jake seemed to be waiting for an answer. Or an explanation.
“You believe in heaven, right?” she asked.
A quick release of breath revealed his cynicism. “Not anymore. It ranks right up there with tarot cards and that channeling shit.”
Okay, she wouldn’t be sharing any pertinent details with him. Funny that Elizabeth would pick a nonbeliever, but it’d undoubtedly make sense if one knew all the facts. This called for wisdom—in this case, relying on Elizabeth’s.
To explain the claspless bracelet, Lilly blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Actually, it’s a sorority thing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“ ‘Sisters forever’ and all that. Eternal, get it? No end?”
“You didn’t wear it at your wedding.”
She grinned, stupidly, irrationally happy to hear that he’d paid attention that day, so she hadn’t been the only one. “Taking inventory, were you?”
“We danced together.”
“Just once.”
“I would’ve noticed it.”
“Where did you spend the rest of the evening?”
It was his turn to grin. “Taking inventory, were you?”
Touché.
She’d chalked it up to prewedding jitters, the very un-bridely thoughts she’d had when he’d draped his strong arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. She didn’t know much about Jake at that point, just that he’d laid stone for years before he and Brady formed their partnership. He certainly had the muscles from it.
Unable to stop herself, she glanced at his arm on the back of the seat, bridging the gap between them.
Oh yeah. Still has ‘em was quickly followed by Concentrate. Get pregnant.
“What?” He glanced at his arm as if she’d seen a bug crawling along his skin.
“Uh… nothing.” She jabbed the charm bracelet up under her sweater. It fell right back down.
“Here.”
He grabbed a rubber band off the gearshift lever, helped himself to her hand, slid it on until it and the chains were wrapped around each other, then shoved both up as far as they’d go. Then instead of dropping her hand, he commenced with briskly rubbing it between his own.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were still cold? I could’ve turned the heat up more.”
You just did.
Lilly tugged gently, trying to pull free, but Jake’s strong hands kept rubbing and rubbing and holding on. If they’d been sitting closer, she imagined he’d tuck it between his thighs while he rubbed the other one to warm it, too. And heavens, what she could do with it once it was there.
Shoot. She suddenly remembered that John could read minds, so she threw her door open and bolted through the slush to the snow-covered sidewalk.
Jake caught up, grasping her arm just above the elbow. “In a hurry?”
Her tenth-grade English teacher had taken points off a short story assignment once because she said you couldn’t hear a person smirk. Lilly begged to differ. She didn’t dare look at Jake, but she definitely heard a smirk in that question.
“Here, put this on.”
He held his ruined jacket open, and rather than tell him he’d toasted her to a crisp in the car, she slipped into it, relishing the touch of his fingers on her skin as he lifted what was left of her hair free from the collar.
“And you forgot this.” He held out her purse.
She might have taken it, if he didn’t still sound so smug. She knew how to deal with smug.
“Aren’t cab drivers supposed to carry bags?”
“Generally it’s our option.”
“I’m afraid I nee
d both hands free in the snow.”
“Fine.” Still smug, he tucked it beneath his arm as if it belonged there.
“Cute. A clutch suits you.”
“You don’t think it makes my butt look big?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
5
St. Matthew & Mark’s food kitchen was going to be a revelation to Ms. Leather-Bound, Gold-Initialed Checkbook.
Jake couldn’t wait for the fallout. She’d march up those steps in her designer boots, open the door, and get hit with a composite odor derived from years of cheap cooking, unwashed bodies, and disinfectant. She’d reel out of there so fast…
Being the nice guy he was, he of course followed behind, ready to catch Lilly before she catapulted down the steps and broke her neck.
Not to mention that he was also the guy she’d gypped out of millions, and it wouldn’t give him any great heartache to watch her humiliate herself. Shouldn’t take more than five seconds. Ten tops. Then they’d leave, and he’d try really hard not to let on how much he’d enjoyed it.
He started a countdown as Lilly pulled open the heavy, turn-of-the-century door. One…
She paused briefly, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Two…
She marched right up to the scruffy, grizzled man cleaning the otherwise deserted steam table, as if she did this every day—must not have inhaled yet—and politely said hello and asked to see the director. Three…
That guy didn’t appear much better off than the people loitering outside, but he took one look at her, no gold, no diamonds, no fur in sight, a lot of singed hair, and jerked his chin over his shoulder.
“Back there.” Four…
“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly.
“Can’t miss ‘im. Name’s Kellerman.”
Jake was so caught off guard by the extra information that he let Lilly get several steps ahead of him, which was a big mistake, because then he couldn’t pull his gaze away from how the bottom of his bomber jacket brushed back and forth across her hips. Repeatedly.
Forget counting. She must have breathed in by now and still, there she went, moving ever forward on a determined course.
Give them money, indeed. What? Twenty-five dollars? Fifty? Sure, every little bit helped—he dropped a five into the donation box at the door—but that was chump change to her.
He was further taken aback when she marched right up to the director, pulled out her checkbook and a thousand- dollar pen and, in a very businesslike tone, asked how much his annual operating budget was and what the shortfall for the past three years had been.
Kellerman was salivating as he took in the checkbook and the pen, politely, avariciously ignoring his benefactor’s damaged hair and the three sculptured nails she had left, which were painted a tasteful, elegant, brownish pink. Jake supposed there was a name for that, like mauve or something, but he knew his way around electronics and quarried stone, not colors of nail polish.
Kellerman stuttered out a reply, then swallowed his spit and stood by mutely as Lilly started filling in zeroes. She paused right before the last one, as if thinking it over. But then she nearly leaped out of her shoes and dashed off the rest of the check as if her life depended on it, matching Kellerman’s amount to the last digit.
With my money!
Kellerman, poor bastard, didn’t know what to do with his hands, alternately holding them behind his back so as not to appear too eager, then letting them flutter out there in midair, ready to snatch the check into his possession.
Jake felt a similar reaction coming on.
“Thank you.” Kellerman read the name on the check. “Mrs. Marquette, I… I don’t know what to say.”
Neither did Jake, but he was working on it. If she was pulling some modern-day, quasi-Robin Hood stunt, she sure as hell could write him a big one right now.
“Just say you’ll put it to good use. Maybe add something extra for any children who come in.”
“Oh, I will. I will!”
“Good.”
Lilly tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling, long enough that he and Kellerman finally both looked up, too. There was nothing there but peeling paint.
“See something?” All Jake could see was red.
“Sh, I think she’s praying.”
She turned briskly and headed toward the door, muttering something that sounded like, “I can’t believe I just did that.”
Neither could he.
Kellerman leaned close, waggling the check. “Is this for real?”
Jake could grab it and make a run for it, but it wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t his style.
“She’s got it,” he said grudgingly. “But she was in an explosion earlier today, so if I were you, I’d get that in the bank before she claims brain damage.”
“I heard that.”
“Sorry, Reverend, gotta go.”
He caught up to her on the icy steps, and remembering his obligation to take care of Brady’s wife the same way Brady would if he were here, he grasped Lilly’s arm in a very secure hold. She didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t even seem to notice. But he did, and his body’s unwanted yet predictable reaction dragged his mind off in a direction best left unexplored—at least until she paid him back.
“Slow down, damn it, it’s slippery here,” he said, determined to focus on what was important.
“It’s bad form to cuss this close to a church.”
He knew he shouldn’t bring this up, but if he could just feel her out a little bit… “About that money—”
“One down and a bunch to go. It hurt, but not as bad as I thought it would.”
He narrowed his eyes and took a closer look at her. “You feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Do you know other places like this?”
“Sure, but—”
“Can you drive me to them?”
“Let’s talk money first.”
“Of course. How much do you make in a week?”
“What?”
“I need a driver and a car.” She spoke slowly, as if she thought he might be the one with a head injury. “You’re a driver. You have a car. Hence, I’d like to hire you to drive me.”
“To more food kitchens?”
“Any charitable organizations you can think of that need money.”
“Huh.” Beyond that, he was at a loss for words.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No really, what?”
“Well, it’s just that Brady always said you were tighter with a dollar than he was. And the way you took off after your change this morning, well I’m just surprised you’re giving money away, that’s all.”
“Nothing stays the same forever.”
“Huh. Get in the car before you catch your death, then we’ll talk.”
She shuddered. “I wish you wouldn’t use that expression.”
Not half as much as he wished he could stop worrying about doing what was best for her.
“What?” he groused. “Get in the car?”
“ ‘Catch your death.’ “
“Oh, sorry.” It was thoughtless of him, and her admonishment caught him up short. Of course she was still sensitive. Brady’s death had been totally unexpected. No one had known about his heart problem until it was too late. No one had had time to prepare. “But get in.”
She faced off with him over the door. Could the woman not follow any directions?
“You know, with your hands like that, you’d have a heck of a time making change. Or keyboarding. If you drive for me, you won’t have to. How many stops could we make in a day? Four?”
“I’m not driving you around.” Imagine spending eight to ten hours every day in the close confines of the cab with her rambling on about no-cussing zones and who-knows- what else between stints at giving away his money. No way.
“Maybe five?”
“You talk to yourself.”
“I’ll stop.”
“I’ve got regulars. People who count on me,” he
said, trying not to growl at her, but really, she was exasperating. Brady’d never mentioned that.
“Well, we don’t have to go out every day, and I’m perfectly willing to share cab space when we do. I’ll even help make change. Tell you what…” Standing in the cold in what was left of his jacket, she rooted through her purse again. With a flick of her wrist, the pen and checkbook were open and ready. “Do you spell Murdoch with a ‘k’ or an—Oh shit.”
“Generally not the ‘oh shit’—you know, being this close to a church and all.”
“My pen won’t work.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really.” She scratched it across the check to prove it. “And there’s nothing sacrilegious about saying shit.”
“It’s still cussing, so get in the goddam car.”
She did so, saying, “Well I don’t know if I want a grouchy driver.”
And he didn’t want a bossy passenger, but he couldn’t let his best friend’s widow travel into questionable areas of the city with an unknown driver who wouldn’t look after her the way he would. Besides, if she was in the mood to give away money, he wanted what was his.
Leaning down between her and the open door, he said, “I’ll work on it.”
“Good. How’s fifteen hundred a week?”
He coughed to cover his surprise. “It’s okay.”
She grinned, not fooled at all. “And I promise not to claim head injury on payday.”
“You won’t make me late for my regulars?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And you won’t treat my car like your own personal trash can?”
“Why would I—”
“People do, and I have to keep it clean, you know. Nobody does it for me.”
“No talking to myself, no making you late, no trash in the car. Got it.”
“In advance, then.” He shut her door, sealing the deal.
This would give him time to work things through and pick the best approach while he waited for his dad to conclude his business deal with Lilly’s father-in-law. He’d already tried attorneys—forget that. Hers were bigger than his. He’d tried the direct approach, calling her house and writing her after the funeral, only to be deflected by Brady’s brother’s threats against his dad’s business and house. He’d deemed it wise to back off until further notice.
A Date on Cloud Nine Page 5
