“Please have a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
“PLEASE, CALL ME HUDSON,” he said for the third time. “My father is Mr. Proxly, and I’m hoping we don’t look so similar that you already have us mixed up.”
She tried not to smile at him, but everything he said seemed purposefully intended to make her relax and enjoy this awkward lunch engagement. She thought of his father with his balding head and bushy eyebrows and her smile won the battle.
“You have his eyebrows,” she said, pleased to hear him laugh in response.
“I hope that’s where it ends.” He grinned. He had clear blue eyes that sparkled when he laughed, and he laughed a lot. She couldn’t help but smile back at him. “My father is obsessed with details. I’m more of a broad-stroke-of-the-brush kind of guy.”
“Art metaphor.” She nodded. “Good one.”
“I thought you’d like that. Artsy-fartsies always like a good art metaphor.”
They looked at each other for a moment. Had he made up with his wife after their argument that day in the elevator? He would be a very hard man to have an argument with; he was simply too cheerful.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d ignored it when it buzzed a few minutes ago, but she couldn’t dismiss it a second time. She always had one part of her mind focused on Isabella, even when they were apart.
“Excuse me for a moment, I just have to check my phone.” She whipped it out of her pocket, sighing when she saw two texts from Auntie. She groaned out loud.
“Problem?”
“Great Aunt Rosalee,” she said. He nodded as if he understood implicitly what it meant to have a problem named Great Aunt Rosalee.
“Bringing Izzy to you.”
The first text made her cringe. Auntie was babysitting for the morning, which was very unusual. Neil was working and her other friends were busy, so she’d had to resort to passing Izzy over to the older woman. Auntie had loved babysitting Izzy when she was an infant, but as soon as she had learned to walk it had become more of a burden to ask her for childcare than it was a help. Three-year-olds don’t want to learn to knit. Robin had said it more than once, but Auntie insisted that domestic skills could be acquired at any age.
“On our way.”
She read the second text at the exact moment that “Mumma!” pealed through the café.
She looked up and sighed.
Auntie stood at the doorway, looking around as if peering through fog as Izzy bolted between the tables to crash into Robin’s lap like a tiny typhoon.
“I finded you!” she cried, beaming at her mother like she had been lost at sea for months. “Nauntie telled me it was nap time, but I telled her NO! I not have naptime no more.”
Izzy crossed her little arms on her chest and stomped her foot. Her curls bounced in agreement with her no-napping proclamation. Robin looked at Hudson, biting her lip in anticipation of his censure. He grinned as if this intrusion into their business meeting was exactly what he had been hoping for when he woke up that morning.
“I’m so sorry.” She lifted Izzy onto her lap as Auntie breezed up to their table.
“Oh, my heavens,” she blustered, waving a bedraggled stuffed rabbit from her hand. “Excuse us, young man. Robin dear, I simply must be off. I’ve had a call from Mrs. Crawley, and would you believe it? Her daughter’s husband just left her. Just up and walked out, without a word of how-do-you-do. Poor dear Mrs. Crawley is at her wits end.”
Robin blinked at her aunt, dying inside. If Auntie was the bane of her existence, then Mrs. Crawley was her nemesis.
“You just wouldn’t believe the antics,” she said, looking to Hudson for affirmation.
“Hudson, this is my Great Aunt, Rosalee Martin,” Robin spoke to the table, watching her business deal trickle away on the tide of Auntie’s verbosity.
Hudson stood up and shook Auntie’s hand.
“Can I get you a coffee, Mrs. Martin?” he asked. Auntie beamed at him, then looked at Robin with her eyebrows raised. Robin swallowed in dread of what she would say next.
“I likes coffee!” Izzy chirped, reaching for Robin’s cup.
“No coffee for you,” she said, tucking Izzy’s hand back down on her lap.
“Thank you, dear but I must be off,” Auntie chirped. “You’re Bernard Proxly’s son, aren’t you? You’ve grown into a fine strapping lad, haven’t you?”
Hudson nodded. He waggled an eyebrow at Robin.
“Such a shame.” Auntie shook her head, ignoring the daggers Robin hurled at her with her eyes. “Your poor mother. Not that I am one to listen to stories, but I heard how hard your father took her loss. Such a fine man, and such a tragedy.”
Robin gripped the table to stop herself from falling through the floor.
“Thank you,” Hudson said, a shadow crossing his face that stilled the twinkle in his eyes. “Let me see you to your car, Mrs. Martin.”
“Ta ta, dear.” She kissed Robin on the cheek and passed the rabbit to Izzy. “I really think nap time is important, Robin. For your own sanity, if nothing else.”
Hudson took her elbow and walked her to the door, winking at Robin over his shoulder as he did. Robin hugged Izzy to her chest. For the first time, she was grateful it was Hudson who had shown up. The elder Mr. Proxly probably wouldn’t have been as accepting of this domestic intrusion into their business meeting.
She had hoped to secure the job before her new employer found out about her dysfunctional family.
Hudson returned to the table and held his hand out to Izzy. She looked at it, then looked at her mother, pressing her face against Robin’s chest.
“It’s okay, Iz.” Robin smiled. “This is Mr.—”
“My name is Hudson,” he said. “I like your bunny.”
“His name is Bunny.” Izzy hugged the ragged stuffy to her chest.
“Good name.” He smiled. “Would you like some... apple juice?” He looked at Robin for approval. “And maybe a croissant?”
Izzy wiggled on Robin’s lap. The preliminary tremor before the launch.
“Wazza crossssnt?” Izzy whispered to her mother, hiding behind Bunny and not taking her eyes off Hudson.
“They’re delicious,” he answered. “Sometimes, there’s chocolate inside them.”
He said it with such enthusiasm and delight that Robin immediately started drooling. She blinked as Hudson stood up and waggled his fingers at Izzy. She hopped off her lap and took his hand, grinning over her shoulder like she had just won the prize behind door number one.
Robin watched, bewildered, as Hudson led her daughter to the glass display case and crouched down on his knees, pointing to each pastry delicacy and obviously telling Izzy delicious stories about every one. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. He looked like he had just won the prize too.
What was happening? Lawyers were not supposed to be nice guys.
Izzy returned to the table balancing a plate with an enormous eclair tipping dangerously with each step.
“There’s enough sugar in that thing to keep her awake until midnight.” She laughed. She should be angry. She should take control of this situation and maintain the healthy eating protocols they tried to live by.
She swiped a fingerful of whipped cream from the overburdened eclair.
“That’s awesome,” she moaned.
“That’s why the women love me,” Hudson said, straight-faced. “I am the ultimate sugar daddy.”
Hudson reached over and neatly sliced the eclair in three, winking at Izzy who giggled like Santa was sitting across from her.
“Can Bunny have a piece?” she asked, wide eyed.
“Are you kidding me?” Hudson reared back, plastering a funny frown on his face that made Izzy giggle. “Bunny eats carrots, man! Eclairs are human food.”
“I’se a gwana!” Izzy said, stuffing eclair into her mouth.
Hudson looked quizzically at Robin for clarification.
“Iguana,”
she said through a mouthful of pastry. “Izzy Iguana.”
“Eclairs are iguana food!” Hudson crowed.
“Gwana food!” Izzy shrieked, also stuffing eclair into her mouth.
There was whipped cream everywhere.
“This is the most bizarre business meeting I’ve ever had,” Robin said between mouthfuls.
“Your aunt is lovely,” Hudson said, wiping his mouth. “Is there an uncle also?”
“No,” Robin shrugged. If only. “Her husband died before I was born, and she has made it her sworn duty to put me on the straight and narrow road to proper laundry since I was old enough to reach the washing machine.”
Hudson laughed. He actually threw his head back, opened his mouth and hooted. She couldn’t help but smile at him She had never met such an openly enthusiastic person. She studied him, bewildered but completely entertained.
“I’m sorry,” he said, making an effort to pull himself together. “I just thought... well, judging by the condition of your skirt the other day, I think poor Auntie is failing.”
She gasped, open-mouthed, but then had to laugh as he raised his hands in surrender.
“Just sayin’.” He made a funny face that made Izzy giggle again.
“Yeah, well. Let’s just say she is relentless, ok? Even in the face of all evidence to the contrary, she thinks she can make me marriageable before I turn thirty.” Robin laughed.
Hudson’s eyes went round.
“You’re not married?”
Oh shit.
Please God, don’t tell me I’m going to lose this job because I’m a single mother.
Please, please, please.
“Robin, are you all right?” Hudson’s voice brought her back and she realized she had screwed her eyes shut and may have been praying out loud.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m not... I mean... it’s just me and Izzy. Together. No, um, husband.”
She ground her teeth and remembered the rent, and the car, and the ominous thumping of the dryer.
“Oh, I just assumed...” he said. “That’s cool, men are jerks anyway.”
She stared at him.
“That’s what they tell me?” He made it into a question as he forked a load of eclair into his mouth. He chewed with serious deliberation and she had to smile at him. What a wonderfully weird meeting this had turned into.
“Mens is jerks,” Izzy agreed. “Jerks, jerks, jerks.”
Robin muffled a laugh as Hudson looked mortified.
“I sometimes call her Monkey-ears,” she said. “She repeats everything.”
They finished off the eclair and Izzy hopped off Robin’s lap to climb up on a nearby bench and play with Bunny who seemed to suddenly need emergency CPR and a full body bandage in the form of a cloth napkin provided by Hudson.
“So, a demanding aunt, an adorable three-year-old and a business in need of a job?” He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands.
She fought the urge to grab him by the ears and kiss him.
It had been a long time since Robin had fought any urges at all. What was happening to her?
“And you?” she asked. “It’s not fair that you have met my entire family in the last twenty minutes and all I know is that you have a wife you fight with on the phone.”
She pursed her lips as a shadow crossed his face. Why did she feel so comfortable with this man? She would never cross that personal line when a business deal was on the table. She took a deep breath to apologize.
“She’s not my wife,” he said, a trace of sadness in his voice. “But she wants to be.”
“Have you asked her?” Robin asked gently, genuinely curious.
“I don’t think I can afford her.” He smiled sadly and picked up the files he had set aside earlier. “Financially or emotionally.”
Robin sat back, suddenly shy. She had no right to inquire about his private life.
“We would be delighted to hire you,” Hudson said, smiling broadly. “My father was impressed with the organization of your portfolio, and I loved the samples of your artwork.”
He paused.
“And Mrs. Davies said if we didn’t hire you, we’d be idiots with even less class than taste and that we were already deficient in both, so.”
Robin laughed out loud. It felt so good, to simply be with this charming and silly man who had just handed her the silver platter. She would probably be laughing with him even if he had turned her down.
But he hadn’t.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes and she blinked fiercely to rid them. “I will make your office space sing, I promise.”
“I believe you,” he said. “But you have to promise to bring Miss Izzy to the office for a visit. I have a feeling Mrs. Davies will reveal her softer side to us if she has a chance to meet her.”
“Can I bring Auntie too?” Robin asked. “Maybe her and your father can have a wild geriatric romance to get her off my back?”
Robin giggled as Hudson’s eyes opened in surprise.
“That, my dear Ms. Nelson—” he said, drumming his fingers on the table, “—is an excellent idea.”
Chapter 7
“You don’t understand,” Robin said, holding the phone with her shoulder as she braided Izzy’s hair. “This guy is a total chucklehead. He thinks we should try to hook up Auntie with his father. He sounded almost desperate.”
Neil laughed on the other end of the phone. Robin couldn’t blame him. Both individuals were well into their sixties.
“Do people still have— do it when they’re over sixty?” She couldn’t say the word ‘sex’ in front of Izzy unless she wanted her entire daycare group to learn the word before snack time.
“I friggin’ hope so,” Neil said. “I know I’m missing out hard-core in my twenties, I better damn well make up for it in my dotage!”
“Same,” she laughed. One failed relationship, and one baby, all before she turned twenty-six. Neil was right, she better pin her hopes on retirement lovin’. “I just can’t believe he’s serious. He said his dad was all up in his business and he thinks a romance would distract him from constantly getting in Hudson’s way.”
“He could be on to something,” Neil said. “If Auntie had a boyfriend, she might not need you so much.”
“I just can’t picture her flirting, can you?”
“You’ll just have to do the flirting for her,” he said.
“Pffft,” Robin snorted.
“Pfffttttt,” Izzy snorted.
“Like I know anything about flirting.” Robin said as Izzy hopped down from the chair and immediately began unbraiding her hair. “You do notice the singleness of my current love-life, right?”
“Maybe this will be good practice for you,” Neil said. “Now let me talk to Izzy. And congratulations, by the way. Way to nail the contract!”
“Thanks Neil.” She smiled. She tingled all over when she thought of leaping into her new project. “I’ll be looking to you for the greenery.”
She gave the phone to Izzy who had a very serious conversation about unicorns and Lego with her godfather as Robin packed up to face the day.
Take Izzy to daycare, then come home and begin to run numbers and look at materials to start the Proxly design. Her mind buzzed with colors and cupboards and furniture as she bundled Izzy, with her mangled braids, toward the door.
Auntie was standing on her doorstep.
“Surprise!” she cried.
“Auntie. What are you—”
“I simply had to come by and let you know that Mrs. Crawley is going to be all right.” Auntie pushed past Robin, patting Izzy on the head as she made her way to the kitchen. “I knew you would be concerned, and I said to myself, I said, Rosalee, don’t leave that poor young woman on tenterhooks all day fretting about dear Mrs. Crawley. So here I am.”
“I’m really not fretting.”
“She had a nasty fright, what with her daughter’s husband being such a cad.” Auntie pulle
d coffee mugs out of the cupboard and plugged in the kettle. “She simply was bereft and in need of my uplifting company.”
“Auntie—”
‘That’s what she told me. She said ‘Rosalee, your company is just so uplifting.’ Well, I got a little misty at that, indeed I did. But one does what one can when one’s friends are on the rack.”
“Auntie, I have to go—”
“Nauntie, we’s has to go. I gots the daycare,” Izzy stamped her little foot and frowned. She loved daycare but had mixed feelings about Auntie.
“He came back.”
“Who?” Robin put the coffee mugs back in the cupboard and unplugged the kettle.
“The husband. Mrs. Crawley’s daughter’s cad of a husband. Robin, have you not been listening?”
Robin guided Auntie to the door with one hand, grabbed Izzy with the other, somehow managing to sling her bag over her shoulder and lock the door with whatever hands she had left. Izzy skipped down the stairs and Robin breathed a sigh of relief as Auntie followed.
Two flights of stairs and a short walk across the parking lot was enough for Auntie to regale her with the details of Mrs. Crawley’s mental state, the color of sweater she wore when she was struck down with the shocking news and her insistence that rumors and gossip were not her forte.
“Where did you park your car, Auntie?” Robin asked, interrupting the flow of gossip.
“Oh. Over there, dear.” Auntie waved her hand vaguely down the road, seeming to suddenly realize they were outside and not sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. “I don’t want to impose. You are obviously terribly busy. I’ll just wander back to my empty home.”
Robin’s eyes rolled halfway down the road and back.
“Come with me, Auntie,” she said, putting her arm around Rosalee’s shoulders. “We’ll drop Izzy off together, but then I absolutely have to get to work.”
“That’s lovely, dear. Now, I was telling you that Mrs. Crawley was simply agog at the behavior of her erstwhile son-in-law...”
Robin buckled Izzy to her car seat, fighting the urge to run screaming across the parking lot.
Chapter 8
Love by Design: A Heartswell Harbour Romance Page 4