****
Sara ate dinner with Ellen and Carly in the apartment they shared uptown. "I'm going to name the deli Turtle Soup."
They exploded into laughter and her niece gave her a thumbs up. "And Jack Brandon will think of you every time he drives by."
"I don't want him to drive by unless he's in a hearse."
"He might sue."
"No," Sara disagreed, although some of the steam in her locomotive dissipated.
"You're not going to actually serve turtle soup, are you?"
"Course not."
Ellen held up a fork to halt the conversation. "I've had turtle soup before."
Carly moaned. Sara laughed. "Where was that?"
"Grand Cayman." She looked at her daughter. "Once your father and I spent a week in Grand Cayman diving the wall."
"The wall?" asked Carly.
"A coral cliff. There's a turtle farm there that hatches babies and provides meat for the industry."
"That's disgusting."
"No, actually it's good. Not that much different from beef, really."
"Gross," Carly said. "Doesn't that promote poaching?"
"Why?"
"Because you give people a taste for it."
"It doesn't matter," Sara argued, trying to reroute them back to her own affairs. "I can't actually serve the stuff, they're endangered."
"All you'd really be doing is giving him free publicity," said Ellen.
"It's not publicity. I like it."
"So do I," said Carly, "and I'd like to meet him. Maybe he'll come in."
"I hope he does so I can serve him an arsenic bisque."
"When's the sign coming?" asked Ellen.
"Two weeks, but if I'd had known it would be this much of a nightmare I would have thought twice."
Ellen grinned. "No, you wouldn't have. Even without a sign the grand opening went great, and besides, where else would Jack Brandon eat?"
Chapter Three
Jack walked into Turtle Soup behind Conner. The fragrance of homemade bread almost brought him to his knees. Everyone in the office was talking about the place. It was a block away from the aquarium, another window in a long line of businesses along a busy street.
He scoffed at the island décor. The walls were whitewashed, the floor tiled in green, and the artwork sea-inspired. Some of the tables were wrought iron, others wicker. It looked out of place in downtown Atlanta, even near the aquarium. The two men walked up to the counter and checked out the display. Trays of rolls were under the glass counter. There was a pot of soup simmering over. "Can I help you?"
She came around the corner in response to the front door's bell. The girl from the airport, the one with his book, had hair piled up on top of her head, gold hoops hanging from her earlobes.
"Oh," she said, but something told him she suspected this moment would come. He glanced down the street to the aquarium. Turtle Soup? He felt a flicker of ridicule.
"Hey!" sang Conner. He pointed his finger and looked back at Jack. "Look! It's our little friend."
She smiled. "Sara Hart. You get tired of seafood?"
Conner went into pickup mode. "You never called."
"You never asked me to."
"I've been waiting for you to come by with my planner."
"You carry a planner?"
Jack felt like he was going to throw up. "If he did I'm sure you'd return it to him."
A cloud of menace passed over her face. "I didn't expect to see you in here. Wouldn't a place like this be against your principles?"
"Not unless you actually serve turtle."
"I cook clams," she said coolly. "I'd use turtle if I could get a hold of it."
"They're endangered, sweetheart."
She jerked back at his meaningless term of endearment. "I hear they're pretty tasty."
"Just because something's tasty," he answered, glancing over the counter at her waistline, "doesn't mean it's worth the trouble."
"Something every poacher should know." She turned her attention to Conner. "What can I get for you?"
Her attention riveted on his partner, Jack became invisible. Once he interjected, "For crying out loud, just pick something!" but they ignored him. They discussed every type of soup on the menu, most of the bread, and finally Conner asked her if she owned the place.
"Yes, I do."
"Congratulations. How's business?"
"Picking up."
"This is a good location."
He looked at Jack waiting for him to agree but he didn't. Instead Jack said, "Nice name, are we going to eat or what?" then stuck his hands in his pockets and exhaled loudly.
"You should let us bring some brochures down here," said Conner.
Sara shook her head. "No," she smiled, "that might conflict with things I'm already planning to do."
"Like?"
"I'm checking into some businesses with animal rights concerns, maybe some plugs for the aquarium."
"No National Geographic?"
"Like they need plugging."
"A few flyers from the Caribbean Conservation Cooperation wouldn't be a bad idea."
Sara sidled her focus over to Jack. He gave her a level gaze that said he agreed. "No way." She touched Conner on the hand, "But if I ever need a salesman I know just who to call."
He grinned. "If you ever need a dive instructor, do that." Conner sat down at last.
"What do you want?" Sara asked Jack, dropping her tone three octaves.
"Nothing. I just came to watch my friend eat."
"Your friend has good taste."
"I'm afraid at the moment he doesn't have any taste at all."
"If you're not hungry, then you can let yourself out. This isn't a library."
"No, you'd have to own a book to call it that."
"I can read, can you?" She pointed to a plaque beside the register that said, "No Whining."
"I'm not whining. I'm leaving."
Jack marched past Conner who was shoving bread down his own throat. By the time he reached the aquarium he had worked up a choking thirst. His stomach reeled with hunger, his chest with fury. Turtle Soup? Where had she gotten that idea?
Chapter Four
Conner left Sara a napkin with his number on it. If Jack's partner wanted to take her out, that was her business. If it drove Jack crazy, that was Conner's. Not that he wasn't a nice guy, he just wasn't someone she would seriously consider dating. She hit Ellen's number on speed dial. "Guess what?"
"Geez, Sara, do you know what time it is?"
"Dinnertime?"
"You know I have an early session with the Martins in the morning," complained Ellen.
"That's what you get for being a shrink. They need a priest."
Ellen groaned.
"Guess who came into the shop today?" Sara asked.
"Jack Brandon?"
"How'd you guess?"
Ellen suddenly seemed more alert. "What happened?"
"He walked out in a huff."
"What'd you say to him?"
"I asked him what he was doing in there, then his friend starting talking about alliances, like with the Foundation and the shop."
"What'd you tell him?"
Sara snorted. "I'm not going to further his purposes."
"Not a big deal unless the Beluga Bar opens next door."
"He was a jerk, again."
"Sara," Ellen interrupted, "if you're going to open a place down the street from his office and name it after him, you're going to get a confrontation."
"Bring it on. It gives me something to look forward to while I'm kneading bread."
Her sister mumbled something about brushing her teeth.
"His friend Conner asked me out."
"You like him?"
"He's okay."
"Don't do it. You'd just be opening a can of worms."
****
The can of worms called Turtle Soup two days later. Sara recognized Conner's voice immediately. "How are you?" she asked in return. She'd already
closed up and was up to her elbows in dishwater.
"Good. I'm leaving next week for home," Conner said.
"Where's home?"
"St. Thomas."
"How long have you lived there?"
"About nine years. Now that we've moved the Foundation to the Georgia Aquarium, I'm going to be coming and going. I've enjoyed my first visit here though."
"You've worked for Jack for nine years?" Sara wondered how he could put up with him.
"Six actually. It was the Foundation or Sea World."
"You don't seem like a company man."
"I'm not. Ask my father."
"What does he do?"
"What everyone else in Indiana does."
"You're an Indiana boy?"
"Home grown."
"How does a farm boy from Indiana end up in the middle of the ocean?"
"He goes to Florida for spring break and never leaves.
"You took up diving?"
"Like a fish to water."
Sara rolled her eyes. "You go to school?"
"Eventually."
"What'd you major in?"
"Biology."
"Marine science, I suppose."
"You'd be correct. Of course a lifetime of fly-fishing helped. I worked on charter boats for awhile, and used the money for dive classes."
"How'd you meet Jack?"
"Filled out an application and hit it off at the interview."
"You'd hit it off with anyone," Sara said generously.
"I'd like to hit it off with you."
His flirtatious remark caught her off guard. "How about we catch a ball game and see about that?"
"You like baseball?"
"I love baseball. And I have season passes, too. Want to go?"
Conner shouted into the phone, "Absolutely!"
****
They met at seven-thirty outside of Turner Stadium. Sara decided to forego dressing up to discourage any notions Conner had about hitting on her. With her hair knotted in a tight French braid, tan shorts, and a Braves tee shirt, she found him at the season pass gate. "You ready?" she called.
"Always," he smiled.
They spent most of the evening on their feet. The seats were good, the hot dogs delicious. They went out afterwards for ice cream. Conner ordered butter pecan to her sherbet, and they took a pink booth in a far corner of the shop.
"So how did you come up with the idea to start a deli?" asked Conner between licks.
She thought back. "I've always wanted to do something besides catering. Once I got the nerve to start thinking about opening something, they announced the aquarium and I had a few years to get everything together."
"But you haven't been open long?"
"No." Sara shook her head, hesitated, wondered how much she should divulge. "There was a minor distraction a couple years ago. I almost moved to Mississippi."
Conner made a noise as if he equated the state with his own hometown.
Sara laughed. "You don't care much for the simple life, do you?"
"I spend most of my time in sand up to my neck. Shorts and sandals are cool, but sometimes it's nice to get a taste of civilization."
"So you're not a Parrothead?"
"You can have it both ways, ask Jack."
"Ask Jack?" Sara repeated. "What's he, your idol?"
"No, just my boss. He's more small town than I am."
"No way."
"You'd be surprised. He may be a little flashy but inside he's a suffering family man."
"Suffering?"
Conner shrugged. "He always wanted kids."
"Sorry, but I find that hard to believe. Comes across a bit of a player if you ask me."
"He's had a few bumps in the road. Besides, you know how it is—all those socialites wanting to donate their money and catch themselves a playboy."
"So how come nobody's caught him?"
He turned the tables on her with a nudge to her knee. "How come nobody's ever caught you?"
She smiled, took a vicious bite out of her sugar cone, and avoided his gaze.
"Ah-ha," he said with a leer.
"I was engaged once," she relented, "but it ended badly."
"What happened?"
As if it meant nothing to her, Sara answered, "About a week before the wedding I found out he was cheating."
"Ouch."
"You're not kidding. No refunds on anything but the dress."
"At least you got that satisfaction."
"Not really," Sara grinned. "I burned it."
Conner digested this with his last bit of ice cream. "His loss."
"Whatever. I'm over it."
Chapter Five
Jack dawdled outside of Turtle Soup for two minutes before deciding that one cup of soup wouldn't hurt and neither would a piece of heavenly homemade bread. Café Aquaria served lunch in the aquarium, but he wasn't in the mood.
He walked into the store as brash as he could muster, admitting to himself he was curious about the owner and what his partner saw in her.
A girl blossoming out of the last stages of pubescent awkwardness glanced up from the register. She glowed with innocence and an early tan. Her dark hair and eyes matched his and he felt an instant connection with her even before she opened her mouth.
"You're Jack Brandon!"
Jack smiled, pleased at the recognition. "I haven't been blackballed have I?"
"What?"
"I'm still allowed on the premises?"
"Why wouldn't you be?"
"I'm not a favorite with the owner."
"Oh, Sara." The girl grinned. "She's my aunt."
"You're related?"
"Yep. And she told me to be on the lookout for you."
"Why's that?" Jack glanced through the glass counter at homemade biscuits and cornbread. The niece pulled out a basket of free samples.
"She just wants to know if you stop by."
"Don't tell her," Jack teased, and he gave her a covert wink.
She held out her hand, adult-like, and shook his. "I'm Carly, and I'm terrible at keeping secrets."
"Jack," Jack said. He stepped back and raked the goodies with a hungry eye. "I better order something and make a fast getaway."
Carly giggled. She pointed at the pots of warm soup. "Pumpkin bisque and minestrone, unless you want vegetable stew."
Jack had already decided. He took a recyclable container of pumpkin soup and a half dozen wheat yeast rolls.
"How about a cookie?"
"Free?"
Carly shook her head. "We're just trying to break even."
"I'll take a couple," Jack said generously. He craned his neck for a better look. "Make it the oatmeal ones. I thought your place was doing well?"
"It's going okay, but not good enough. Sara's kind of a penny pincher."
"Big surprise," grumbled Jack. "So who named this place?"
"Sara." Carly smiled a secret smile that said she wanted to say more.
"I'm flattered."
The woman herself strode into the room from the back kitchen. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and there was a flush on both cheeks. "Don't be," she answered curtly. She gave Carly an irate look. "I'll ring him up."
"I already did."
"She's completely capable," Jack said, enjoying the opportunity to interfere. "We were just talking about you naming the shop after me."
"I didn't name the shop after you," Sara said.
Carly looked up in surprise and Jack smoked it. Like hell.
"For your information," she returned angrily, "this place has been in the works long before your arrival."
"Really? I've been hanging around for at least half that and I hadn't noticed."
"I was waiting for a prime location."
"This is prime?"
"If you knew anything about business I'd try to explain it to you but I'm not going to waste my time."
"Right," Jack grinned. "I don't know anything about business."
"I wouldn't expect you to." Sara punch
ed something on the register, held her hand out for the money and shoved it in the drawer. She let Carly dole out the change. "Why don't you crawl your way back to your tank now?"
"That's funny," Jack said wryly, "ha, ha. I don't know anything about money. I should stick to amphibians—"
"Sharks, sponges, spineless jellyfish," Sara finished coldly. She marched back into her inner sanctum leaving him alone again with her niece.
"Lovely relation you have there," he said.
The girl seemed nonplussed. "Don't you do films for I-MAX?"
Jack took the bag from her. "Have you seen the film on coral reefs?"
"We love them. We see all the I-MAX movies."
"Come up to the aquarium some time and I'll show you around."
Carly's eyes lit up. "That'd be awesome, only I don't think she'd let me."
"Why not?"
"You know."
"What, contagious?"
Carly laughed. "No, you're not someone she would want me hanging around."
"Why not?"
"You're kind of a ladies' man," the girl answered. "We read your little black book."
Jack grinned. "First, you're a minor, second, you could rack up extra credit for science class, and third, your aunt is no saint."
The girl took a defensive stance. "She is. She's the best. You just have to give her a chance."
"To what? Knead me into a ball and throw me in her brick oven?" He shook his head. "No thanks."
"She wouldn't do that, and besides, you started it."
"Started what?"
"You were rude to her."
"Boo-hoo."
At this, Carly frowned. "You better go," she said slowly, "before she comes back out here."
"See ya, kiddo." When he got to the door he turned back and held up the sack. "Thanks for the grub."
****
A week later, Trudy stepped into the room with her Blackberry in hand. "I have the room reserved you wanted for the lecture. How many chairs do you want?"
"As many as you can squeeze in." Jack set the phone back on its cradle and kicked back. "What about food, did you come up with something better than celery and carrot sticks?"
Turtle Soup Page 2
