“It’ll work out. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”
“I was stupid enough to trust Frank, dumb enough to get into this mess. What makes you think I’m smart enough to get out?”
He kissed her. “Because you are. Maybe it’s time to rethink your life. What you want. Now, you’ll have time with no money pressures.”
“Mooching off Nan? Great. Just great.” She shook her head, moving out of his arms.
“Let’s go. I smell the pizza, and you need to introduce me.” He took her hand.
They headed for the dining room. The sight of the Dinner Club women and Hack arguing about who had done the most work that day, chomping on pizza, and guzzling beer made her smile. How can my life be over when I have such good friends? She took a deep breath.
“I saved the mushroom and meatball for you,” Miranda said, shoving a plate toward Brooke.
“You guys, you’re the best.” She picked up a bottle of beer and raised it high. “To the best friends anyone ever had.”
At ten o’clock, Brooke opened the sofa and fell into bed. She was asleep within seconds. But horns honking, elevators running, all the different noises of her new location woke her up at three. She rubbed her eyes and went to the window. Central Park West was silent, for the moment. A few taxis drove by, but the sidewalks were empty. She pushed the window open wider to let in the cooler night air.
In the stillness of the city, without distractions, nagging questions about her life loomed large. Maybe Pres is right. Maybe I need a new plan. Determined to be the opposite of her laid-back, go-with-the-flow parents, Brooke had held her life under tight control, providing a measured, almost sterile existence. Rejecting everything they stood for exhausted her. Had it made her happy? She’d thought so, but now she wasn’t sure. Doubt crept in. She questioned her choices. Even Lloyd was a mistake. What’s wrong with me?
A wave of loneliness swept through her. She shivered at the cold quiet of being by herself. The room was as unfamiliar as the view. She hadn’t unpacked because she’d been too tired, and now all her memories were stuffed in drawers and boxes. As a young child, Brooke had been close to both parents. Cooking with her mother, Brooke had developed a taste for good food. Her father often took her with him on errands to the hardware store, and teased her about being so neat.
Framed pictures of her parents on her dresser helped her keep them alive in her heart. Now those photos were hidden. She sensed their absence, which added to the solitary atmosphere. Will I ever stop missing them? Probably not. Another unfamiliar sound growing louder made her jump. The click click click of claws on the wood floor startled her.
Freddy and Ginger had left Ruth’s bedroom to join Brooke. She bent down to pet the pugs and got a kiss from each. Their panting ended the depressing quiet of the room, making her smile. She climbed back into bed. The dogs joined her. As she settled on her side, Freddy cuddled into the curve of her back while Ginger snuggled into the crook of her knees.
Before long, a soft snore emanated from each animal. The soothing sound calmed Brooke. Loneliness evaporated with the arrival of the cheerful pooches, and within a few minutes, all were sleeping.
Chapter Nine
The next week passed quickly. Brooke spent several days getting her room set up. She took over all the dog walking from Ruth and joined Pres and Buddy for a romp in the park every morning. They coordinated their schedules. Brooke looked forward to the company of the pugs and Pres.
“How come you have a dog? Single guy. New York City. Don’t you want your freedom?”
“From Buddy?” He shook his head. “I love having a dog. I always wanted one growing up, but my parents would never agree. Mom thought dogs were messy and smelly.”
“They are.”
“Yeah, so what? Dogs are great, and pugs are the best breed. Buddy’s my best friend. I can’t imagine being without him.”
“I’m getting there with these two.”
“Freddy and Ginger? I’ve trained them well. Ruth doesn’t know crap about training. Hell, she’d set a place for them at the table if I didn’t intervene.”
“I know! She totally babies them.”
“Do they sleep with you?”
“Sometimes. I like it. Kinda fun. I get how dogs make you feel, well, not so alone.”
“Buddy sleeps with me. But there’s always room left for another…bed companion.” He turned hot eyes to her.
Brooke had been spending some evenings with Pres. She’d walk the dogs then go to his place. They’d make popcorn, watch television, and make love. They had a standing Saturday night date. Pres would take her to a nice dinner and then a movie, a concert, or a long walk topped off with mint chip ice cream and lovemaking.
But Brooke was reluctant to spend the night at Pres’s apartment because Nan would worry or think she was a slut. Pres had asked her, begged her to stay. He had argued that Ruth was less old-fashioned than Brooke thought. The young woman wasn’t ready to chance losing her grandmother’s respect. But every week it got harder and harder to leave him.
“Remember when you asked me if I wanted to have a woman next to me when I woke up?”
“I know where you’re going with this.”
“So? Please stay over, Brooke. I miss you in the morning.”
Pres joined Ruth and Brooke at least three times a week for dinner. Sometimes, Harry would come along. Then, Mary would join them. On Fridays, four or five of Ruth’s friends from the senior center would show up.
One morning after walking the dogs, Brooke sat down for a second cup of coffee.
“Enough!” Ruth said, joining her.
“Enough what?”
“Enough of you sitting around. While you’re figuring out what to do with your life, you can help me.”
“Of course, Nan. Anything.”
“Here.” Ruth tossed a handful of recipe cards on the table. “Pick something and cook it for dinner on Friday. I’ve got five friends expecting dinner, and it’s too much for me.”
“That’s seven of us, right?” Brooke shuffled through them.
“And Pres, too. Isn’t he coming? He usually does on Fridays.”
Brooke colored slightly. “Pres. Right.”
“I like you dating him. He’s a good guy.” Ruth smiled.
“I agree.”
“Pick something. Buy the groceries and make the meal.”
“But Nan, I don’t know how to cook.”
“Then, it’s time you learned. Crap, honey, you’re twenty-eight!” Nan laughed, chugged the rest of her coffee, and left the room.
Brooke sat, reading each card. Freddy curled up in the small dog bed in the dining room. “Thanks, Fred. I need the company.” Putting aside worry that had nagged at her, she studied the recipes. I’m picking the easiest one. Damn! Cooking for eight when I can’t even cook for one. Mom did, guess I can, too. Lots of dumb people can cook. Brooke picked her mother’s chili. “Okay, Nan. Chili for Friday.” She called out to her grandmother, who was sitting on the living room sofa watching television.
“Excellent choice. Plus a green salad and homemade cornbread. Perfect. Apple pie for dessert?” Nan joined her.
“I don’t know how to make apple pie, and there’s no recipe.”
“Find one on the Internet.” Ruth went back to her television program.
Bess! Brooke picked up her cell and dialed. “Help!”
“What?”
“I need to know how to make apple pie.”
“The Dinner Club meets tonight. We’ll take care of it.”
“But I need it for Friday.”
“We’ll make the crust, you can freeze it, and all you’ll have to do is add the apples on Friday morning.”
Brooke let out a breath. “Thank God. That sounds okay.”
“I’ll show you everything. Bring a pen and paper.”
“You’re the best, Bess. I owe you.”
“Bring a good Cabernet tonight, then.”
“Got it.”
&
nbsp; Brooke packed up Freddy and Ginger and waved goodbye to her grandmother. Once at Bess’s place, she conferred with her baker friend. After dinner, Bess set up her demonstration of how to make a perfect piecrust. Then, she handed Brooke the recipe for the filling.
“This is a secret. Please don’t give it to anyone else. It’s my private formula.”
“I promise.” Brooke crossed her fingers over her heart.
Miranda filled the wine glasses, the pugs napped on the sofa, and the lesson began.
“So, you’re cooking for eight on Friday?” Bess asked.
“Yes, and I’m not even used to cooking for one. I think Nan wants me to take over, and since I’m staying there, I guess it would be the nice thing to do.”
“Who’s all coming?” Rory asked.
“Her friends from the senior center. Harry, the big mouth. And Pres.”
“Pres?” Miranda cocked an eyebrow.
“So, he’s still in the picture? Nice. I liked him.”
“Yeah. He’s been great.”
“Good girl. Nice guys grow on you. Never liked the Lloyd set-up,” Bess said.
“Do you miss Lloyd?” Rory asked, taking a sip of wine.
“I did in the beginning. But not anymore. With Pres, it’s different.”
“He’s a sweetie,” Miranda said.
“He is. Not a corporate type. Doesn’t make a six figure salary, but he’s sold a screenplay.”
“That’s pretty damn good,” Miranda said.
“That’s what I thought. And he loves pugs.”
“Well, that seals it for me,” Rory chuckled. “Would he like to adopt or foster?”
Each woman had made a piecrust and placed it in a disposable, aluminum pie tin. Bess packed them up and handed them to the ladies when they left. Brooke hung back. She hugged Bess.
“Thank you so much. My mom was a great cook, but I don’t know a thing.”
“Chili is a good place to start. Don’t make it spicy, the older folks might not like it.”
“Good point.”
“You’ll be fine. Here are salad instructions,” Bess said, tucking a white card in Brooke’s purse.
“Salad? Lettuce, tomato, dressing from a bottle, right?”
Bess shook her head. “Try this. You’ll impress everyone.”
“This is wonderful. You’re a great friend.”
“Happy to help. Good luck.” Bess hugged her again.
Brooke left The Wellington smiling. She held the leashes in one hand and the bag with the piecrust in the other. Confidence grew inside her. I can do this. If I can do a new business presentation, I can make this meal. She walked briskly to keep up with the trotting pugs.
Friday morning, she awoke early and met Pres at the entrance to the park. He leaned over to kiss her. Buddy sniffed Freddy then Ginger.
“The Great Lawn?”
“Can we cut it a little shorter today? Only one loop?”
“Sure. How come?”
“I’ve got to start on tonight’s dinner.”
“At nine in the morning?”
“Yep. A ton to do.” Brooke and Pres directed the pugs to grassy areas in the shade, out of the hot, July sun and disconnected their leashes. Even early in the morning, the heat could be too much for the short-snouted breed. They met Spike and Clara there. The five dogs sniffed, played, and relieved themselves.
“So, what’s going into this magnum opus dinner?”
“Aha, that’s my secret.”
“Do I need to wear formal attire?”
“Do you actually own a tux?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He ruffled her hair and ran to a tree when she lunged for him. She chased him a bit, but he eluded her every time. She bought coffee from a street vendor and plopped down cross-legged on the fresh grass. Freddy and Ginger immediately joined her, checking for food.
“No, guys. Coffee. Not for puggies.” They returned to sniffing the others.
Pres slid down next to her. “Can I get a sip of that?” He raised his eyebrows in a pleading look.
“After running away from me? Don’t think so.” She shook her head and shot him a flirtatious look.
“Take pity on a poor, caffeine-deprived guy.” He stuck out his lower lip. Brooke leaned over and kissed it. He slung his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
“What’s the magic word?”
Buddy ran over and barked at them.
“Shhh, Buddy. Let a guy kiss his girl, will ya?” Pres hissed at his dog before he brushed his lips against hers.
“Kiss. That’s it. That’s it,” Brooke said, laughing.
“Hey, Pres, get a room, will ya?” Sam, Spike’s owner, teased, tipping his ball cap to Brooke.
When the others moved away, Pres whispered, “I have a room. And a bed. And a shower stall lonely for company.” He nibbled on her earlobe. Heat grew, sending a shiver shooting up her spine. “Come home with me, tonight.”
“I’ll be exhausted. Have to clean up.”
Pres snorted and threw a disgusted look her way. “You have more excuses… I think you just don’t want to.”
Brooke raised her green eyes, looking at him through thick lashes before she pulled his mouth to hers for a breath-stealing kiss. She ran her forefinger down his cheek and gazed up, making eye contact. “Does that tell you what I want?”
“Hell, yeah. And if the park was empty, well—”
She lowered her gaze. “I think you’re well— anyway.” She hid a chuckle behind her hand. The pugs returned to her side and flopped down, panting. Brooke opened her mini backpack and pulled out a small plastic cup and a bottle of water. She filled the dish and watched the dogs drink.
“You always remember these things. You’re so buttoned up.”
“We’ll share with Buddy,” she said, moving the water toward Pres’s dog. “I’m corporate, remember.”
“Not anymore.”
She flashed a frightened look at him. “Bite your tongue! I haven’t given up looking.”
“Good luck with that. When I sell a pilot, I’ll have money, and you can come live with me.”
“And be your mistress.”
“Maybe. Maybe more.”
A tingle shot through her. Warmth in her heart brought a smile to her face. “You’re the nicest man ever.”
“Nice? Ouch. You know how to hurt a guy.” He grimaced.
“What do you want to be called? Mean? Bad?”
“Maybe, bad-ass, sexy, irresistible, sexy, amazing, sexy, spectacular, sexy…”
She laughed. “I get it.”
He grinned at her. “Guess I’ll have to settle for nice.”
Brooke glanced at her watch. “Yep. Well, maybe nice and sexy. Time to go. Gotta make the pie.”
Pres raised his eyebrows. “We’re having homemade pie?”
“Oops. Damn! I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“What kind?”
“It’s a secret.”
Pres jumped up and extended his hand to her, called to the pugs, and they headed for home. “You’ve whetted my appetite. I’m going to starve myself until dinner. Maybe I can have my pie in bed with you?”
Brooke slapped his shoulder. “You’re not the only guest tonight.”
“So, leave with me.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to bunk in with Buddy.”
He drew her close for a mind-blowing kiss. “Don’t want you to forget.”
“I could never forget you.” What did I just say?
Brooke brought the dogs upstairs. She fed them and began baking, listening to P!nk while she peeled apples. Freddy and Ginger curled up on the sofa. Nan was at the center playing bridge.
Working with her hands coupled with the smell of the fresh apples relaxed her. She danced a bit with the music as she sliced the fruit and placed the pieces in the pastry shell. She slipped the pie in the oven then gathered the ingredients for the chili. Within ten minutes, the aroma of the pie had perfumed the apartment.
Brooke to
ok a deep breath. The scent of the apples cooking brought forgotten memories back into focus. She sat down at the table and sipped tea as her mind flooded with the images of days long ago in the kitchen with her mom. Snippets of their conversations returned. She smiled at the vision of her mother’s gentle hands rolling and folding dough for a crust.
Impatience while the pies cooked had always gripped young Brooke. She had checked the oven a hundred times, waiting for the apple pies to be ready. Excitement again flowed through her at the recollection of her mother removing two, or even three, pies from their large oven. Her mom had sometimes sold one or two to bring in extra money. She had taught Brooke how to make a perfect pie, but the memories had been locked away until now.
As she browned meat, chopped onions, and opened cans of beans for the chili, she recalled her mother’s sweet ways—how she’d cry at sad movies and stop to befriend homeless dogs. Mary Lou Felson had been known in the neighborhood for feeding stray cats. Some of her neighbors had objected, citing too many cats came around, meowing for hand-outs, and hunting in the fields and woods for mice.
But Mary Lou had countered that no one had a mouse or rat problem. She had laughed with her husband, Simon, and Brooke about her method of ridding the house of pesky mice. She had called her cat friends “nature’s mousetraps.”
They had lived on a small farm in Pine Grove, a rural community.. Mary Lou had a large garden. Simon had planted apple and pear trees and they had sold fruit and vegetables at a roadside stand in the summer and fall. Brooke had grown flowers in her patch of Earth. Simon had helped her buy marigold and zinnia seeds and together they had planted and weeded. She could hardly wait for her flowers to bloom. Brooke thought back on it now with a mixture of contentment and longing.
She’d had a happy childhood. She reckoned that her parents spoiled her with too much love. When they died, the shock of their loss had been great. Brooke had shut down for months. Gathering their things in her room had comforted her. She had slept in her mother’s nightgown, even though it was too big, and had worn her daddy’s red, plaid, flannel shirt around the house like a dress.
For two years, she had refused to accept they were gone, secretly waiting for them to return. Maybe that’s why she still donned her mother’s dresses on Sunday.
Shine Your Love on Me Page 11
