Friends Like These

by Carina Taylor

  “Walking through the French Quarter must be pure torture for you.”

  “It’s not so bad. It’s more like it’s a combination of stressors. I took up the habit when I was in business school. I can’t even blame it on poor high school choices. A friend of mine was diagnosed with lung cancer a few years ago. It was the wake-up call I needed. So... I threw out all my packs. I think the cinnamon gum might be a harder habit to break now.”

  I reached over and laced my fingers through his and held tight. “You’re a strong man; you know that? Quitting smoking. I’ve tried to quit coffee before, and it only lasted a day. Had the worst migraine of my life. I think I went into a rage. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “It’s easy to picture you in a rage.”

  “How rude!” Leaning over, I smacked his chest, and he merely raised his eyebrows. He exaggeratedly rubbed his chest where I hit him.

  “Where are we going? Where do people shop for a Halloween costume?”

  “At the Halloween store, of course.”

  He nodded seriously. “Of course. I should have known. The Halloween store.”

  He turned and gave me a “yeah right” look.

  “Seriously. That’s where we’re going,” I told him.

  “You’re joking. There’s such a thing as a Halloween store?”

  I laughed. “Of course! It’s in Lampton. It’s a seasonal store. Kylie’s mom, Rose, used to drive us every year. Right now, it’s filled with Halloween merchandise. At Christmas time, it will be full of Christmas stuff.”

  “What about summer-time?”

  “I think it’s only open like six months out of the year. Besides, there are a million other stores around that sell summer things.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll believe you until I see it.”

  Forty minutes later, we were walking into the giant Halloween store in Lampton.

  “Okay. I believe you,” he said with a laugh as a little girl dressed like a princess skipped out of the store, holding her mom’s hand.

  He opened the door for me, and we stepped into a whirlwind of Halloween decorations: flashing green and purple lights, ghosts flying through the rafters. A fog machine filled up the entryway.

  “My eyes are burning,” he complained.

  “Oh, be quiet. It’s not that bad.”

  The swirling lights and screeches from flying ghosts were the quintessential Halloween decor. The overwhelming smell of plastic textiles filled the store. Little children chased each other up and down the aisles wearing masks while their parents ran after them.

  We walked up and down the aisles taking in everything. Noah kept making outfit suggestions, and I kept telling him no. He picked up a minuscule police officer outfit; he looked at me with raised eyebrows and pointed at the mini skirt with handcuffs hanging from it.

  I laughed and made him put it back. He blushed as he did it.

  We continued walking the aisles until we reached the superhero section. He grinned and winked at me as he reached for something.

  I slapped his hand away from the shield. “You are not going as Captain America.”

  “Why not? Besides, maybe I’ll decide what I want to go as.”

  I took a step towards him and slammed my hands on my hips. “Are you arguing with me?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Yes.”

  I leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest. “You won’t win.”

  He winked. “Maybe you’ll get used to losing with me around.”

  “I’ll take that as a challenge.” I stood on my tiptoes and at first and only pressed my lips against his. Then I gently tugged at his bottom lip with my teeth. A ragged breath left him as I pulled away.

  Patting his chest once more, I pretended like it didn’t make my heart beat irregularly when I kissed him.

  “We’re going as Danny Zuko and Sandy. It’s a must.”

  “Who’s Danny Zuko?”

  It was going to be a long and delightful afternoon of Halloween shopping and informing Noah about Danny Zuko.

  “Don’t think I don’t notice that Captain America pin on your lapel.”

  The sneak grinned, clearly proud of his rebellion. We’d survived Halloween shopping, and three days later, we were at Mimi’s property in the country. The entire Boone family was there, and Noah had been overloaded with introductions.

  “You can’t get your way in everything, Page.”

  “But...I could try.”

  He laughed. “No, you already try.”

  “It’s annoying when people don’t do what I want. First Jenny, now you. Pretty soon, the whole world is going to ignore me.”

  He shrugged. “Regular old anarchy under the Page regime.”

  I sighed. “Do you think I’m too pushy?”

  He picked up his glass and took a big sip. When I started to worry he would drown, I pulled it out of his hands. “You can’t hide behind that all night. I’m pushy, aren’t I?”

  He shook his head, “No. I don’t think “pushy” is the right word. You’re full of life, and everything you do is with energy and purpose. The way you make a cup of coffee in the mornings. The way you give your tippers your most winning smile—”

  “How did you—”

  “Yes, I noticed your smile technique at the coffee shop.” He smiled at me. “When you do something, you throw your whole self into it. If you have been pushy, it hasn’t been maliciously.”

  I opened my mouth to answer him, but he interrupted me as he stepped closer. “Don’t look now, but a walking fruit tree coming our way,” Noah whispered in my ear. His warm breath drifted across my cheek. The soft leather jacket he was wearing brushed against my bare shoulder. I was wearing so much hairspray that I could see the fruit tree walking through a haze.

  “Page, honey. You’re in trouble.”

  I spun around and faced the one and only Mimi.

  “Hi, Mimi.”

  She scowled at me. “Is that how you greet your grandmother? Where’s my hug?”

  I pointed to her dress that looked like an imitation of a fruit platter. “I don’t think I can reach you past all the apples and oranges.”

  Her face softened. “Good point. I don’t want to knock any of this off. Did you know it’s all real? Do you think I’ll stand a chance of winning?”

  “You look amazing, ma’am. I’m sure you’ll win.” Noah assured her.

  “She’ll win,” I added. “She’s the biggest cheat this family has.”

  Mimi plucked a grape off her dress and tossed it at me. “I appear before the same judges you do.”

  “Pops is partial! Especially since you make his breakfast.”

  “Are you accusing me of accepting bribes?”

  I spun around to find my grandpa—Pops—standing beside Noah.

  His thinning white hair was combed over to the side, but his fluffy beard made up for the lack of hair on top.

  I planted a kiss on his weathered cheek. “Hi, Pops. You haven’t met my boyfriend yet. This is Noah.”

  Pops studied my face for a moment before he turned to shake Noah’s hand.

  “Good luck.” He glanced at Mimi and winked.

  “Good luck with what?” Noah asked.

  “Well, Page is a little unconventional. No one can put up with her for long.” Mimi said.

  Noah’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Mimi, unaware of the test she was putting to him. “Then everyone else is missing out.”

  Mimi’s face broke into a big smile. “I knew I liked you from the first time I saw you. Same as that Hagen boy.”

  Noah chuckled at her glee. “Do I pass the test?”

  “Most definitely.”

  He rubbed a hand against his jaw as he asked, “Exactly how far ahead of Hagen am I?”

  I poked him in the chest. “Leave poor defenseless Hagen out of this.”

  “I’m not poor and defenseless!” Hagen yelled from across the yard. He was sitting at one of the picnic tables he’d built. Kylie and Mack sat
next to him.

  Even with all of the younger kids running around the tables and yelling, it hadn’t deafened my loud voice. Jenny was rubbing off on me. I’d forgotten how much sound carried at Pops and Mimi’s property along the river.

  “That’s right! You’re not poor and defenseless. Just defenseless!” Noah called back to him with a grin.

  Mimi’s loud laugh rose above the rest of the noise in the yard. “Oh, I like you a lot. It’s good to be competitive in this family.”

  Mimi grabbed Noah’s hand, and mine then dragged us after her toward the podium. “Almost time to judge the costumes.”

  Noah leaned down and whispered in my ear, “If we lose, it’s because I didn’t dress myself.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  NOAH

  We lost the costume competition on Halloween. Mimi won, and Pops had an exceptionally guilty look on his face. Page was right; there was something crooked going on there.

  For the next ten days after Halloween, I took Page out on as many dates as possible, experiencing everything New Orleans had to offer in between work and prepping for the art night.

  She was incredible.

  We stood outside the dining area at the clubhouse. Page hadn’t allowed me in there while she organized a team of decorators and event staff. Considering it was my business that she was taking over, I should have found it in me to care. But despite her earlier attempts at marketing with a petting zoo, I really hoped she could pull off an art display. I’d seen what she did in the art gallery—and it looked great.

  She was practically jumping up and down in front of me with excitement. I watched as she reached into my jacket pocket and searched around. I’d never had anyone search my coat pockets before—especially not while I was wearing it.

  “What are you doing?”

  She ignored me and checked my breast pocket.

  “Aha! I knew you had some with you.”

  She waved my pack of gum in front of my nose.

  “How did you know that was there?”

  “I could smell it.”

  She unwrapped a piece and popped it in her mouth, then carefully tucked the pack of gum back into my pocket. “And now I know why. It’s my favorite kind.” She smiled and began chewing the gum. “Come on. I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

  “You know Page, a friend of mine recommended a great event planner if this is too much—”

  “I’ve got this.” She promised, and then she grabbed my hand and tugged me through the double doors that led to the large room. Due to past history, I had a moment of panic—wondering how she had chosen to decorate. What I saw astounded me. She’d transformed the entire dining hall. The tables lined the outside of the room while the art was displayed throughout the center of the room. There were three long tables in the center of the room.

  The dark green and pastel colors complimented each other while the mahogany accents set off the rest of the room.

  A conglomeration of art pieces were stacked together to spell out The Garden in a six-foot-tall display.

  “Wow, Page... this is...”

  Her face fell. “I knew I should have gone with the chartreuse and charcoal.”

  “No.” I looked around again. “Page, this is amazing! You’ve transformed this place. It’s incredible.”

  Her eyes widened, and she stared at me. “You think so?”

  “Yes, I really think so. This.” I gestured to the room. “This is what we’ve needed for the golf course.”

  “I didn’t know if the color theme was right or not.”

  Out of everything going on in the room, she was worried about the color theme. What she wasn’t worried about was the themed tables and art displays around the serving tables. It was set up in such a way that any person who tried to get to the food tables had to walk through a display and encouraged bidding.

  The bidding pieces were set up at the standing tables, and other pieces hung from the ceiling.

  “Page, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Try ‘you’re fired’. Maybe ‘blacklisted.’”

  I pivoted to face her, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Try ‘you’re hired’. It looks fantastic.”

  I barely had time to pull my hands back out of my pockets in time to catch her when she flew at me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, clinging to me like a spider monkey. “You like it!” she exclaimed.

  “I hope I’m the only one who gets hugged like this by you.”

  “Yup. You are. Well, maybe Kylie. But last time I did this, she dropped me.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and walked to the center of the room, still carrying her. “This is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

  She leaned back far enough to grin at me. “I’m so glad you like it.”

  “I’m serious. I will gladly hire you to be an event coordinator here.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. But I would love to help if you decide to keep doing these events.”

  She slid back down to her feet. She walked over to the table and pulled two water bottles out of a large bag. She handed me one, then held the other up in the air. “Here’s to the first art night at The Garden!”

  She tapped her water bottle to mine then took a sip. I smiled at her and followed suit. If an event like this were a regular thing, my golf course could turn around even faster than I projected.

  The art night was a roaring success. We gained more members, booked two weddings, and had raving reviews about our new chef and menu. There were demands for more art nights.

  It turned out so well that we did another. And another. And then it turned into a twice-monthly event.

  I was busier than ever at the course, and Page was phenomenal, helping orchestrate all the art nights. She was toying with the idea of doing design—seasonal décor for businesses. She decorated The Garden for Christmas and a few business owners I knew asked about my decorator.

  Page was busy looking into the logistics of starting a business like that. I’d offered to help her with the legalities and tax part of her business, but I didn’t want to crowd her. She was moving forward with her life—deciding what she wanted. I didn’t want to add unnecessary pressure, so I’d backed off while she worked out the particulars.

  It felt as though we had settled into our relationship. I was falling for her hard—no, I’d already fallen. I was there. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and now I kept a ring on me at all times to remind myself why I was working so hard at the golf course right now.

  The only problem we faced was how busy I was at the golf course. I didn’t have as much time as I wanted to spend it with Page.

  She was so understanding. Every man should find himself a woman as understanding as Page. I planned on spending the rest of my life with her. I only hoped she felt the same way. Once everything was finished at the golf course, Kent would step up as manager, and I would be free to find another business to buy and run. Hopefully something less time consuming. Maybe I would focus on expanding my coffee shop chain.

  I knocked on Page’s door—it was seven o’clock, our regular date time on a Sunday. She opened the door and leapt into my arms. It was beginning to be a habit—one I hoped she never quit.

  “Want to see what I’ve been working on today?”

  I nodded and followed her into the small cottage. There were poster boards everywhere covered with pictures. There was a large sign announcing Front Page Seasonal Decor.

  “I’m not sure about the name yet, but I guess it will have to do because I already created a website and social media pages. I’ve started running local ads as of an hour ago and have been working on cross-promotion on local pages. So far, I’ve been booked to decorate for a birthday party and a graduation party. I used some pictures from the art gallery events. Lottie already wrote me a review from my work at the gallery. She is a gem for not being upset at my quitting.”

  “You did all of this in a
day?”

  She shrugged. “It was my day off. I decided you were right. The only thing standing in my way was me. If I want to do something I enjoy, I’m going to have to take a risk. Now we’ll see if I can make this into a full-time job or not.”

  I shook my head as she sat down at the laptop and pulled up a website. She was starting a business on a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants decision. If that wasn’t the most Page-like thing I’d ever seen, I didn’t know what was.

  “Your website looks great. Who did you hire to do it?”

  She shook her head. “I just spent some time reading how-to blogs this morning and figured it out myself. Wasn’t too hard. I’ve already grown my mailing list to a hundred people.”

  Running a hand over my face, I sat down next to her so she could show me her site. We skipped going to dinner and instead ordered pizza while she showed me exactly how much she could get done in fifteen hours. I decided she could take over the world in about a week if she put her mind to it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  PAGE

  We were on our seventh art night. I couldn’t be happier about the success Noah was having. Unfortunately, with that success he was busier than ever. He’d recently discovered that his grandfather had bribed two of the kitchen staff to sabotage some things. What a lovely family to be in. What a bitter old man who was desperate to see everyone else miserable around him!

  I’d never met the man, and now I never wanted to.

  Noah was mingling with some guests while I stood at the center table, loading up a plate of shrimp. I’d worked an early shift at the coffee shop that morning, then went to The Garden to finish setting up for the art night.

  I grabbed two more shrimp because I needed sustenance.

  “Who are you?” An older gentleman with bushy eyebrows barked at me.

  “I’m Page,” I shot back.