My First My Last My Only

by Denise Carbo

  His eyes widen. Oh no, am I too late? I should have prepared something that transported easier, not something which needed to be served immediately. Damn it, I’ve ruined the dinner with the first course.

  “This is delicious. You didn’t tell me you could cook too.”

  Relaxing into the cushion on the chair, I smile and reach for an oyster myself.

  “I’m so glad. Of course, I can cook. I just don’t get to do it all that often living with my parents.”

  Trying not to slurp, I bite into the oyster and am relieved. It tastes pretty good.

  “That reminds me, my lawyer sent over the papers to transfer ownership of the building over to you. You and your lawyer can look them over and tell me if anything needs to be changed.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you’re selling me the building.”

  “If I’d known you were planning to buy it, I never would have made an offer on it.”

  I smile and reach over to squeeze his hand.

  He keeps my hand in his.

  I wish I could bottle this moment. Etch it into my memory along with the love bubbling up inside me. I want this to work so badly. He has to see me as more than a friend, doesn’t he?

  “I’m dying to see what else you have hidden in that box.”

  “Oh!”

  I let go of his hand and reach into the box, taking out the salad. The wine bottle is still there. I bite my lip and lift it out along with a wine opener and the wine glasses I tucked in the box.

  “I forgot about the wine.”

  Mitch takes the bottle and the opener and reads the label. “One of my favorites.”

  “I made a Strawberry Salad with Honey Vinaigrette.” While he fills our glasses with the wine, I set out the salads and pour the dressing over each.

  When the sweet and tangy taste fills my mouth, I sigh inwardly. I sampled it at the bakery but worry still coursed through me.

  His salad is half gone before I’ve taken three bites of mine.

  He glances at me over his fork. “It’s fantastic.”

  Smiling, I sip at the wine, and look over the lawn down to the lake.

  “What do you plan to do with the grounds?”

  Scanning the area, he takes another bite of his salad. “I want to repair the pathways and the formal gardens. There’s even what’s left of a small hedge maze on the other side of the house.”

  “Really? I’d love to see it.”

  “We can take a walk after dinner. This must have been the spot for grand entertaining at one time. It will take a lot of time and effort, but I want to recreate as much of the grounds as I can.”

  “I used to fantasize about ladies with parasols and long dresses waltzing along the garden paths on the arms of gentlemen dressed in suits with a harp playing in the background. They would dance on the patio with their skirts twirling around their ankles.”

  Mitch is smiling and my cheeks heat.

  “I’ve imagined it similarly.”

  “Really?”

  He nods and leans back in his chair. “The more I uncovered of the gardens and pathways, the more I thought about the parties they must have had. I want to put in a boathouse too, but farther along the cove, so it doesn’t block the view of the lake.”

  “I can’t wait to see it when you’re finished.”

  “I plan to hire a landscape designer. You could help recreate your vision, tell him what you see.”

  “Oh, I know nothing about plants.”

  “Neither do I, but I know whether or not I like something when I see it. That’s all I’m suggesting.”

  “I’d like to help.” A little devil sitting on my shoulder tests my new theory on jealousy. “You should hire Bobby.”

  His eyes narrow and he takes a long drink of wine. “I’ll think about it.” Mitch clasps the utensils in his fists and taps the bottoms of his knife and fork on the table. “What’s next?”

  Laughing, I pull out the main course. “Chicken Cordon bleu with potatoes.”

  “How did you know that it’s one of my favorites?”

  “Is it really?”

  He nods and cuts into the chicken and takes a bite.

  I pause cutting into mine when he groans. A tingle in my core radiates out at the sound.

  “You should add a restaurant on to the bakery. You’re an incredible cook.”

  Pleasure infuses me, and I grin.

  Three courses down and all a hit. All that’s left is dessert and I’m sure that will be a slam dunk. What can go wrong with chocolate? I am confident when it comes to baking.

  What if he’s allergic to nuts?

  Oh God!

  He would have told me, wouldn’t he?

  “Mitch, you’re not allergic to nuts, are you? I mean I should have asked beforehand, but it didn’t occur to me until now.”

  He pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Are there nuts in this?” His cheeks balloon, and his eyes widen.

  My mouth drops open and I shove the chair back leaping to my feet. “Oh my God! Are you having a reaction?”

  Mitch laughs and grabs my hand. “Relax, I’m joking. I have no allergies.”

  Slumping back into the chair, I huff out a breath. “Not funny, you scared me.”

  “I’m sorry, but you looked so worried. I couldn’t help it.”

  “I should withhold your dessert for that.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “You sure about that?”

  He grins and winks at me. “You’re too sweet to torture me that way.”

  Am I too sweet?

  Does he prefer women who aren’t sweet? His ex-girlfriend was rumored to be difficult to work with. I don’t know if it was gossip or truth. Regardless, the women he’s dated are exciting and flashy, and let’s not forget gorgeous.

  The most thrilling thing I’ve ever done? Besides try to seduce Mitch and fail miserably? I can’t think of a single thing.

  Maybe I should take up skydiving.

  My fear of heights might get in the way.

  Then there’s the whole opening a parachute on time or plummeting to your death aspect.

  Nope, I can’t jump out of an airplane, even for Mitch.

  If he were dying and it was the only way to save him, then I would do it, but not just so I could appear more electrifying.

  Besides, the sheer terror I’m sure I would experience and the probable projectile vomiting upon landing would negate any points for exciting behavior I might get.

  “You’re quiet. You’re not plotting to keep whatever dessert you made from me, are you? I promise no more bad jokes.”

  Smiling, I shake my head. “No, you can have dessert.”

  Standing, he holds out a hand. “I have an idea.”

  “Um, okay, do you mind sharing what this idea is?” I place my hand in his and he tugs so I stand.

  Mitch takes out his phone and plays music.

  “Your vision of dancing inspired me.”

  He places his phone on the table and puts my other hand on his shoulder. Classical music flows from the phone full of strings and a soft melody.

  “Mitch, I don’t dance.”

  “Why not?” His hand rests on my waist and I desperately wish I was a woman who could step into his arms and waltz along the patio.

  “Because I tried it when I was a kid. I took ballet lessons. I was so awful my mother made me quit.”

  He frowns and pulls me closer.

  “Everyone can dance. We’re not performing calculated steps. Move with me and listen to the music.”

  Biting my lip, I stare at our feet facing each other.

  Mitch puts a hand underneath my chin and lifts. “Don’t worry about your feet.”

  “Ha, you say that, but wait until I stomp on your toes or trip you.”

  Putting his hand behind my back, he tugs me closer and kisses me.

  His lips whisper across mine.

  His hand presses against my back and the other grasps my hand a
pplying pressure there as well.

  I move against him.

  He steps and sways and I follow his movements as his lips trail across my cheek to my ear.

  “See, anyone can dance. You just need to relax and feel the music.”

  My eyes flutter open and I stare over his shoulder.

  Right, dancing.

  My lips twitch because this is nice. I am dancing with Mitch, even though I would rather he continues the kissing.

  He leads me across the patio in his arms.

  Leaning my head against his shoulder, I close my eyes and breathe deep. His scent entwines with the lightest touch of gardenias from the lit candle. The warmth of his hand on my back seeps through my clothes and skin.

  A crash echoes from the house.

  We stumble apart.

  “Wait here.”

  Mitch strides into the house and I shut off the music then pace the length of the patio. Should I follow him inside? He said to wait here, but what if he gets hurt? What if part of the old house collapsed? The renovations could have jarred something.

  I step towards the door when a shuffle behind me causes me to swing around.

  “Are you the housekeeper?”

  A man in jeans and a ratty T-shirt stands on the edge of the patio with a camera in his hand.

  “What?”

  “This is Mitch Atwater’s place isn’t it? I heard in town he’s been spotted with a blonde bombshell. I’ll pay you if you give me any useful leads.”

  He’s a reporter or the lesser version, anyway, paparazzi. The blonde bombshell must be my sister.

  “This is private property. I’m calling the police.” I stride over to the table and snatch my phone out of my purse.

  “Chill out lady. I only want a shot of Mitch and his new ladylove. His ex, Margeaux, is posting all over social media that they’re back together again and she’s planning a wedding. Know anything about that? She been here?”

  I freeze for a second.

  Mitch would have told me, wouldn’t he?

  Was that the talk he wanted to have?

  My stomach drops and tears fill my eyes.

  I blink them back and grit my teeth. Getting rid of this trespasser is the priority.

  I pretend to dial, hoping I’m not making a mistake. Should I call the police, or would Mitch want it kept quiet?

  “Yes, I’d like to report a trespasser. This man is on my property and won’t leave. Average height, brown hair, jeans.”

  The man turns and jogs around the side of the house.

  I lower my phone and run for the house.

  Locking the door behind me, I sprint down the hallway. Someone is coming down the stairs, and I pray it’s Mitch.

  He spots me when I reach the foyer and jogs down the remaining steps, grabbing me by the shoulders.

  “What is it?”

  “There was a man on the patio. He wanted confirmation this was your house.”

  “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, I made believe I was calling the police reporting a trespasser and he took off.”

  “Damn it, I knew the information would get out eventually, but I thought I would have more time. I need to get the security system installed sooner than I had scheduled.” He hugs me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I wasn’t sure if you would want me to actually call the police or not.”

  “If a stranger comes near you again, you call the police. Why didn’t you call for me?”

  “I didn’t want him to know he was right, and you lived here.”

  Mitch’s sigh ruffles my hair. “Promise me you won’t take any more chances. Most of these guys are harmless, but you never know what kind of crazy might appear. You wouldn’t believe the stalkers Margeaux has had to deal with.”

  Margeaux. Was that guy telling the truth?

  “He said she’s saying you two are back together.”

  “What?”

  “That guy. He said Margeaux is posting that you and she are a couple again and getting married.”

  “Those guys will say anything to get a reaction so they can take a picture and sell it. You can’t listen to their crap.”

  I force a smile to my lips, but tension still rides my shoulders.

  “You should get that security system installed right away.”

  “I will.” He releases me and steps away. “I’m sorry he ruined our dance. I don’t think we should continue our dinner on the patio.”

  “What was the crash? Did he try to break into the house?”

  “Probably. There’s scaffolding on the side of the house. It looks like he must have knocked part of it down. I walked through the rest of the house to check, but the scaffolding is the only explanation I found.”

  Rubbing my shoulders, I look around the foyer. “Are all the windows and doors locked? I locked the French doors when I came in.”

  “Yes. Why don’t you go up to the master bedroom and I’ll grab the stuff from the patio? We can still have our dessert and enjoy the sunset. There’s no table or anything up there, but it shouldn’t be too awkward holding the plates.”

  “Are you sure you should go out on the patio? What if he’s still lurking around?”

  “I’ll be careful and quick. He’s probably long gone.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, I want you to go upstairs just in case.”

  “I should be there to help if he’s still here.”

  “You can watch from the balcony and call the police if you spot him, okay?”

  It is a better vantage point. I could see if he is anywhere around the house, or at least the back.

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mitch disappears down the hallway and I run up the stairs to keep lookout for him.

  I stride the length of the balcony and back while he grabs everything off the table and carries it inside. The man is out of sight or gone.

  Could he be somewhere in the bushes snapping pictures?

  Mitch’s soft tread across the floorboards prompts me to turn away from scanning the tree line.

  He’s holding two plates with the chocolate torte on each.

  I step into the room and shut the door. “We should eat inside in case he’s still out there somewhere.”

  Mitch hands me a plate. “It’s part of my life. He’ll get his picture eventually, but if it scares you, we can stay inside.”

  “I’m not scared. I just didn’t think you wanted him to get a photo.”

  He shrugs. “Like I said, he will eventually, or someone else will. That doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate the trespassing. It also doesn’t mean I’m going to hide inside all the time.”

  “Well then, let’s go out on the balcony and watch the sunset.”

  Mitch smiles and opens the door.

  The colors aren’t as vivid tonight, but the peach and grays are still beautiful. A man in a fishing boat casts his line outside the cove. He’s not much more than a dark outline in front of the setting sun.

  “What is in this? There’s a flavor I can’t identify. It’s so good.”

  Smiling, I take a bite of my piece. “I can’t divulge my recipes.” I don’t taste a difference but maybe the aphrodisiac is working.

  That photographer didn’t ruin the entire night. I refuse to let him. I’m considering this date a success.

  Even if his words about Margeaux are stuck in my head. A quick internet search when I get home should get rid of that worry.

  Chapter Thirty

  Another one of my parents’ parties and instead of hiding in the corner, I’m out on the patio sitting in a chair under the blue umbrella. Guests are trickling in. Their voices drift through the doors.

  Boats crowd the lake. Some are moored to prepare for tonight’s fireworks display. In a few hours, boats will fill the cove to watch the show. One year, an inebriated individual decided it would be a good idea to hop from boat to boat since they were floating so close together. He did
n’t make one jump and ended up in the lake. Good Samaritans dragged him out.

  A water skier speeds by, jumping over the wake of the boat pulling her over the water. I’ve never been brave enough to try. My sister is an avid skier both on the snow and the water. Perhaps I should try it.

  I glimpse blue out of the corner of my eye and spot Lucinda in a baby blue sheath being dragged around the living room by my mother to introduce her and perpetuate the sabbatical story. Mother is dressed in a royal blue dress with a red, white, and blue silk scarf tied at her throat.

  I look down at my navy-blue maxi dress and white sandals and purse my lips. We almost match in a very generous description. We’re all wearing blue anyway.

  An older couple exit the doors and nod in my direction. I smile and nod in return. I don’t recognize them, but my mother doesn’t share her guest list with me. I wanted to invite Olivia, Monica, and the rest of the book club members, but she insisted it was too late and would disrupt her party.

  Olivia and Sally are covering the bakery for me anyway, it’s not like I can afford to close the bakery to attend one of my mother’s parties. Although, I’m sure my mother wouldn’t agree.

  “Save me.”

  Lucinda drops into the chair next to me.

  I chuckle and pat her on the arm. “I would if I could, but our mother is a force of nature.”

  She sighs, swipes my bottle of water and guzzles it.

  “Thirsty?”

  “I’ve been trying to get to the kitchen and get a drink for the past half hour, but she wouldn’t let me. My throat is parched from having to smile and answer questions about the glamourous sabbatical she has dreamed up to tell everyone.”

  “Sorry Luce. How did you escape her?”

  “Some emergency in the kitchen.” She waves a hand towards the house.

  “That could mean anything from ruined food to a glass with water spots.”

  Lucinda laughs and holds up the bottle of water. “I’m surprised she allows bottles at the party.”

  “She doesn’t. I swiped that from the fridge.”

  “Uh oh, you better not let her catch you with it.”

  “You’re the one holding it now.”

  My sister grimaces and then shrugs. “Oh well, what is she going to do to me?” Upending the bottle, she polishes it off.

  “You really can ask that question about our mother?”