by Alix Kelso
He walked her downstairs and kissed her goodbye as he let her out the back door, and then watched her progress along Shaw Street until she turned and disappeared. It was a miracle she’d agreed to see him again after tonight’s disaster. Tomorrow, he’d take flowers to apologise. As he headed into the pub to help Aiden and Sophie serve the punters who were still hanging around after the quiz, he decided he’d go to the florist on Shaw Street and order something hideously expensive and utterly beautiful; something that would have Chrissie smiling from ear to ear when she opened the door tomorrow night.
He liked seeing that smile of hers. But after what had happened this evening, he might not get to see much more of it unless he got his act together.
19
Chrissie guided the soft-edged palette knife along the surface of the buttercream that covered the cake mould and felt excitement grow as peaks began to form and swirl before her eyes. The curves and crests looked beautiful and achingly romantic and exactly what she’d been aiming for. Setting down the palette knife, she stepped back from the counter to examine her work, a smile playing at her lips.
And then a big chunk of fondant sheared away from the cake mould and landed with a dull plop on the counter.
Chrissie sighed. Why couldn’t she get this right? She’d been working on the technique all morning and still it wasn’t coming together. Either the buttercream fondant was too soft or too firm, or she was digging too heavily into the icing with her tools, or not heavily enough. She thought of the glitzy wedding cake competition – all those dazzling lights and gorgeous cake creations and excited brides-to-be – and imagined the gruesome embarrassment of her cake disintegrating right in front of the judges’ eyes.
Chrissie couldn’t bear to think of it.
She scooped up the fallen blob of buttercream and tossed the whole lot into the bin. How many failed attempts so far today? She’d lost count. If she didn’t figure this out soon, the cost of the wasted raw ingredients alone would ruin her.
In the shop, the bell above the front door tinkled. Chrissie wiped her hands and walked through to find Irene stepping inside.
“I came to tell you that Jim Donovan is now off the market,” Irene announced.
“Who?”
“Jim Donovan, my friend’s son. Trisha Patterson from my library book group has nabbed him for her daughter, just like I knew she would. Apparently, they’re going out together next weekend.”
“Thanks for the update,” Chrissie said, tapping at the keyboard on the counter to check the details on a customer order.
“Anyway, I heard you were out last night with Keith McGraw,” Irene said, taking a seat by the window and rifling through her huge handbag. “How did it go?”
“Not the way I hoped.” When Irene peered at her, Chrissie shrugged and glanced back at the computer monitor. “His ex-wife is staying with him temporarily because her life’s in a tailspin and I ended up talking more to her than to him.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“We didn’t even get out for a drink. We’re trying again tonight.”
“You’re not put off by an ex-wife being in the picture?”
“I thought I would be,” Chrissie said, trying to rationalise her response to herself as much as to her mother. “But I want to get to know this man a little better before I make up my mind about things. God knows, the two of us are old enough to have complications in our lives, and I’d like to spend some time with him before deciding if his complications are going to be more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Hmm,” Irene said. “So what’s happening tonight?”
“Just another attempt to have a drink.” Chrissie glanced up from the monitor. “I’m actually quite excited about it.”
“Good. It’s about time you got excited about a man.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a man to get excited about.”
“I like that you’re out there again, seeing what’s available and who’s available.” Irene stopped rifling through her bag and studied Chrissie. “I know you’ve heard this a million times, but I don’t want you to be on your own. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t wish your father was still here with me, and it’s been almost twenty-six years since he died. But at least I had him for as long as I did, and I have those years to look back on during long, dark winter nights when I feel lonely. But you’ve had no one, Chrissie, and my one remaining wish for you now is that you find someone to spend time with and share things with.”
“You make it sound like you’re on your last legs, Mother.”
Irene waved a hand. “I could drop dead at any moment. But while I’m spared, my wish is that you find someone. Not just anyone. Someone who makes you happy.”
Chrissie walked around the counter and took the seat across from Irene. “Keith is nothing like the kind of man I thought I’d be interested in.”
Although he was attractive, it wasn’t in a conventional way, but her stomach tightened whenever she thought of his smile and the way his eyes twinkled with humour. When his hand brushed hers, his skin felt good. And when he kissed her… well, when he kissed her, she felt desire burn in a way it hadn’t for years.
Irene watched her and grinned. “Your face softens when you think about him.”
“I hate feeling mushy. I’m too old to feel mushy.”
“Nonsense, no one’s ever too old to feel mushy.”
“Common sense says I should run a mile from a man with three ex-wives, one of whom is currently living with him and having an emotional breakdown.”
“Common sense isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Irene said. “And you’ve done your fair share of exercising common sense anyway. After that rat, Steven Addison, left you as a jilted bride, you had to make a lot of serious decisions. Maybe it’s finally time to have a little fun.”
It occurred to Chrissie that Keith struck her as someone who knew how to have fun, and how to treat a woman right. Last night notwithstanding.
“Anyway,” Irene said, zipping her bag and rising from the chair, “I’m on my way to my lunch club. Although I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. We’re trying a new sushi place in town, some hare-brained idea of Barbara McKee’s, which no doubt means I’ll be up all night clutching my stomach.”
“If you don’t like sushi, why are you going?”
Irene peered at her in disgust. “Because I’ll miss all the gossip if I don’t go.” She hurried to the door. “Phone me tomorrow and let me know how that drink goes.”
Once Irene disappeared from the shop in the direction of the bus stop, Chrissie returned to her kitchen. Customers would be arriving soon to collect their orders, and there was a wedding cake on the books for Thursday that she could begin preparing, as well as two birthday cakes due for pick-up that same day. Once those tasks were dealt with, she’d again attempt the buttercream technique and see if she couldn’t crack it.
There was plenty to keep her busy and stop her thinking about her date later with Keith. Absurd though it might have seemed just last week, she couldn’t wait to see the man again.
Ever since she’d met him, things had felt different. She felt different.
And that had to be good.
That evening, Chrissie was styling her hair in front of the mirror while chaos reigned beyond her bedroom.
In the bathroom, Gregor was waging war with the towel rail he’d broken last week. His previous attempts at fixing the thing had come to naught, but now he’d introduced a power drill into the equation and had assured Chrissie that this would solve the problem.
Chrissie seriously doubted this. So far, he’d managed to drill two holes in the wrong place and crack a floor tile when the towel rail slipped from his hands. His cheerful expression had remained in place throughout each of these fresh disasters and Chrissie didn’t know how much longer she could resist the urge to shake him until his teeth clattered and warn him on pain of serious bodily harm not to touch or repair or meddle with anything inside
her house ever again.
Meanwhile, Alison was downstairs in the kitchen, making an awful lot of noise for someone who claimed only to be preparing beans on toast for dinner. Poppy was over-tired and crying, and even from upstairs Chrissie could hear the child throwing her plastic toys off her high-chair table. It sounded as if Alison was repeatedly returning them to her daughter, each time launching into a loud and one-sided conversation about how Poppy was being a very cheeky girl.
Chrissie finished styling her hair, quickly touched up her make-up and went downstairs.
“No, Poppy!” Alison was shouting when Chrissie reached the kitchen. “That’s naughty. Throw this toy one more time and I’ll… well, I’ll be very annoyed.”
Poppy squealed angrily before grabbing the plastic toy and launching it directly at her mother.
“Poppy!” Alison yelled.
“What on earth is wrong with you two today?” Chrissie said, raising her voice to be heard above Poppy’s shrieking and Gregor’s drilling.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Alison said, frowning as she turned off the heat beneath the pot of beans. Toast the colour of night popped from the toaster and Alison sighed. “I’m a disaster, Mother.”
Chrissie threw away the burned toast and began a fresh batch. “You’re not a disaster. You’re just tired and cranky.”
Alison began feeding Poppy pureed veggies while Chrissie dealt with the beans and toast. “We’re all cooped up in here together and it’s driving me mad.”
“I know the feeling.”
The doorbell rang, and Alison turned to Chrissie and winked.
“Your man’s here.”
Chrissie headed into the hallway, and when she opened the door, she was met by the largest bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen: an enormous spring mix of ivory roses and pale-pink tulips and sweet green foliage.
“Well!” she laughed as Keith’s head appeared around the side of the bouquet.
“I should’ve got the florist to bring these in the van,” he wheezed.
“Come in and let me smell those roses, they look beautiful.”
“I wanted to apologise for last night’s disaster,” Keith said, lowering the bouquet so Chrissie could enjoy the scent.
“There’s nothing to apologise for.”
“Don’t be so polite. It was a mess from start to finish, and I’m amazed that you’ve agreed to see me again at all.”
“My social life is the pits, so I take what I can get.”
Grinning, Chrissie saw his eyes twitch, and when he set the flowers on the kitchen counter, she finally got a good look at him. He’d cleaned up nicely for last night, but had gone the extra mile tonight, wearing a smart suit over a crisp shirt and tie. His mad tufts of grey hair had been tamed and he smelled amazing, too. Chrissie’s gaze settled on him for longer than seemed decent. When she realised that he was also staring at her, a little flutter of excitement exploded in her stomach.
She’d chosen to wear a sleek dress and heels for this second attempt at going out, but had worried it might be over-the-top. Now, though, Chrissie saw that the two of them looked good together, as if they matched. They might only be walking over to the little bistro on Shaw Street, but they’d damn well look good doing it.
“Keith, this is my daughter, Alison, and my granddaughter, Poppy,” Chrissie said.
Alison set down the bowl of pureed dinner on Poppy’s tray and shook Keith’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Keith.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Alison,” Keith said. “And about this wee sweetheart, too.” He moved closer to the high chair and leaned down. “Hello, Poppy, aren’t you a wee gorgeous one?”
Poppy stared at the stranger for a second. And then, in a move so swift Chrissie could hardly believe it had happened, she screamed and threw up her hands and flipped the bowl of pureed veggies into the air, sending them in an arc that ended on the left shoulder of Keith’s suit jacket.
“Oh my God!” Alison yelled as Poppy shrieked in delight and clapped her hands.
“Keith!” Chrissie rushed forward as Keith straightened and peered at the pureed mess now dripping down his suit jacket.
“Thanks, Poppy, but I already ate,” Keith said with a wry smile as he pulled a tissue from his pocket and began wiping at his shoulder.
Chrissie stared. His humour and ease in the midst of the awkward moment caused something to loosen inside her heart.
“Keith, I’m so sorry,” Alison said, rushing to grab kitchen paper and scooping away the puree from Keith’s jacket. “I’m so, so sorry. She’s been behaving like a cheeky monkey all day and I should’ve seen this coming.”
“It’s nothing, just a wee spot of food,” Keith said.
“I’ll pay to have that jacket dry-cleaned,” Chrissie said.
“It’s not that bad,” Keith said. “A dab with some cold water will do the trick.”
Removing the jacket, Keith headed for the kitchen sink. Chrissie took the jacket from him and inspected it.
“This definitely needs dry-cleaning.”
But Keith shook his head and nodded towards Alison, who was frantically cleaning up the mess on the floor while Poppy continued to shriek.
“It’s fine,” he said quietly.
Chrissie’s heart swung open in that moment. The chains looped around it had been invisible to her until they fell away, cut loose by this man whose unexpected tenderness left her astonished. This was how it felt to begin falling for someone, she remembered in amazement. This was how it felt when you saw who someone truly was inside.
Soaking a handful of kitchen towels beneath the tap, Keith dabbed at the stain on his jacket and examined the wet patch.
“As good as new.”
It wasn’t and Chrissie was about to say so, but just then a terrible crack was heard from the bathroom upstairs.
“Help!” Gregor yelled. “Help! Someone turn off the water!”
Chrissie glanced in horror at Alison and then at Keith before running for the stairs. As she darted from the kitchen, she saw Keith pulling open the cupboard beneath the sink.
That’s what she should be doing, she realised – she ought to be turning off the water, not dashing up the stairs. But she was already on the upstairs landing, gripped with panic at what she might find when she reached the bathroom.
Chrissie threw open the bathroom door. Gregor was hunched on his knees, clutching pointlessly at a geyser of water that was spouting up through the floor.
“What the hell happened?” Chrissie yelled as she ran inside. Water was spraying everywhere, and by the time she’d grabbed a towel and thrown it over the gushing fountain, she was already soaked.
A second later, the water stopped surging up through the floor. Keith must have found the stopcock, and not a moment too soon.
As Gregor gasped for breath, Chrissie surveyed the bathroom. The floor was wet, the walls were wet, even the ceiling was wet. A hammer and chisel lay beside a hole in the floor.
“What the hell happened, Gregor?” Chrissie asked again.
Gregor wiped water from his eyes and gestured to the hole. “I was lifting the floor tile I cracked so I could replace it. The floorboard’s a bit soft and I think the chisel must’ve gone all the way through and caught a water pipe.”
Keith appeared outside the bathroom alongside Alison, who’d brought Poppy on her hip.
“Gregor, what have you done?” Alison wailed.
“I thought it’d only take a minute to get this floor tile up and a new one down,” Gregor said. “I wanted to put things right.”
“Oh, Gregor,” Chrissie said, shoving wet hair from her face and wiping fat water droplets from her nose.
“But the good news is, the towel rail is fixed,” Gregor added.
Chrissie stared at the young man. Maybe she could smother him with the shower curtain. Or bludgeon him with the hammer. She’d cheerfully do either of those things right now.
“Gregor,” she said, “if you perform any more DIY in this house, I’ll
have you arrested for malicious damage, understood?”
Gregor gulped. “Understood.”
Chrissie turned to Keith. She could only imagine how she must now look.
A smile played at his lips. “So, are we ready to go?” he said.
Chrissie began laughing and found she couldn’t stop.
An hour later, Chrissie had changed out of her wet clothes, the emergency plumber had arrived and was working in the bathroom, and Alison and Gregor and Poppy had made themselves scarce by going to Gregor’s mother’s house for a while. With the water still off, Keith had used bottled water to fill the kettle and make tea, and Chrissie gratefully accepted the mug he offered.
“It’s not quite the drink together we had in mind,” Keith said as he tapped her mug with his, “but it’ll do.”
“I’m so sorry about tonight,” Chrissie said. “What a bloody disaster.”
“Two disastrous nights in a row.”
“I think I liked things better when we just sat quietly together in the park.”
Keith laughed. “Me too.” He sipped his tea and a serious expression crossed his face. “Listen, we can still go out for that drink tonight if you like, once the plumber’s gone.”
But Chrissie shook her head. “He says it’ll take a couple of hours.”
Keith nodded. “Want to try again tomorrow night?”
“Third time’s the charm.”
“We can only hope. Let’s ditch the bistro idea and try a new venue, see if we can’t shake this bad luck.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“And instead of just having a drink, how about we have dinner? I think we could both use the nourishment after all we’ve been through.”
Chrissie smiled. “I’d like that.” She sipped her tea and glanced at Keith’s suit jacket hanging on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. “Your jacket really does need dry cleaning, Keith.”
“That’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I insist on paying.”
“Not a chance.”
