Worry furrowed Gwen’s brow as she elbowed her way through the crowd. While Mrs. Haverty appeared to be ageless, especially when her age changed every year, Gwen knew better.
A broken mug lay in pieces at Mrs. Haverty’s feet.
Gwen looked the older woman up and down. “Mrs. Haverty, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, dear. I can’t say the same for your cup.”
Gwen balanced on one knee picking up the chunks of ceramic. “It’s okay. It will only take a minute to clean it up.”
Someone crouched down next to her. “Thank you for your help, but I have it.” Gwen glanced over to see Ethan’s lopsided smile.
Gwen’s chest tightened, her pulse hammered in her ears muffling the sound of chairs scraping across the floor, people talking.
She stood slamming her head on the counter. She blinked away the stars dancing before her eyes. Ethan must think she was a hot mess. Rubbing the top of her head, she could already feel a lump forming. Ethan’s strong fingers wrapped around her arm, steadying her. A spark wound its way through her arm. His eyes dropped to his hand, puzzled. Had he felt it, too?
He cleared his throat and released her arm.
“You’re Ethan Reynolds.” Gwen DVR’d his shows when she didn’t have time to watch them. A genius in the kitchen, she applied many of his lessons in her own kitchen. “Your technique for whipping egg whites put my store on the map.”
“I would love to see you in action. Um, what I mean is, I would love to see you cook. I have so many questions.”
Stephanie leaned over the counter, the box of cupcakes extended in her hand. “Here you go, Ethan. Do you need anything else?”
“No,” Ethan replied, looking over Gwen’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
He directed his attention back to Gwen. “I’m glad I could help. Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”
Gwen’s stomach dropped faster than an express elevator. “Sure,” she replied, trying to hide her disappointment. Why did his response sound like all of her other dates?
* * *
Ethan leaned his elbows on the table after Maddie cleared the last of the dinner plates. She carried them to the kitchen, her soft voice crooning a duet with Michael Bublé. His mother seemed unusually quiet at dinner. Maybe they shouldn’t have surprised her. Or maybe he should have cooked something different.
Maddie helped him plan the menu. They both agreed he should prepare Chicken Parmesan, their father’s favorite.
“Mom?”
At first he didn’t think she’d heard him, but then she lifted her head. Moisture shimmered in her brown eyes.
Ethan reached across the table, his hand sheltering his mother’s. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head, knocking a tear loose. The droplet slid down her cheek splashing onto the white tablecloth. “I was just thinking.”
Ethan knew today must be hard for her. Only two years since his father had died. In perfect health, his heart had betrayed him in the end. With a speed none of them were prepared for, he had left in the night.
“Is it Dad?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. His own unshed tears burned at the back of his eyes.
With a shaking hand, she swiped the moisture off her cheek. How had the smudges under her eyes slipped past him?
He felt helpless. The words to comfort her escaped him. Where was Maddie? In response to his question, he heard the clink of dishes in the kitchen. He almost left his seat to call for her, but his mother’s gentle voice stopped him.
“I was just remembering the first time I met your father.” She smiled wistfully, her gaze directed over his shoulder.
“He was stationed at the air base and would come in to your grandparents’ restaurant every day for lunch.” She looked at the kitchen. “He ordered Chicken Parmesan every time.”
Oh, no. That explained why his father loved it. Because it reminded him of their mother. Now he wished they had chosen something else for dinner.
A new batch of tears pooled in her eyes. He smiled encouragingly.
“He was so handsome in his uniform. And every day I waited for him to ask me out.” She shook her head laughing. “But your father was tongue-tied, always stumbling over his words.”
Ethan had a hard time imagining his confident father with nerves of steel turn into a bumbling fool around his mother. He had flown an F-15 under heavy fire in Desert Storm.
“One day I got tired of waiting and asked him to go to the movies.” A soft laugh left her lips. “Your father turned all shades of red. So shocked that he could only nod in acceptance.”
Maddie paused at the threshold. She looked from Ethan to their mother. “What did I miss?” She plopped into the vacant chair next to their mother.
“I was talking about the first time I met Daddy.”
Maddie slipped her arm through her mother’s, then rested her head on her mom’s shoulder. “I love that story.”
A twinge of envy licked at Ethan’s heart. Maddie knew this story? Maybe he needed to spend more time with his mother. Cut back on his travel. Or better yet, take his mom with him. He had a trip scheduled to Europe next month. He opened his mouth to ask, when his mother interrupted him.
“Mom, wait until you see the cupcakes we got.” Maddie went into the kitchen and returned with the box of cupcakes.
“Oh! I haven’t had a chance to try these. Your father used to get them from the grandmother’s bakery. When she died, the granddaughter opened her own with the same recipes.”
Their mother bit into a cupcake. Her eyes drifted close. “I think these are better than her grandmother’s.”
“Whipped egg whites,” Ethan said under his breath, his eyes falling to the tray of perfectly formed cupcakes.
“What did you say?” His mother asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking out loud.”
Maybe his technique had helped Maddie. Ethan grabbed a cupcake and turned it in his hand, before he took a bite. Wow. The moist cake sent an overload of flavors across his tongue. If I’d had this recipe, I could have won Top Chef Masters, Ethan thought.
Their mother stood. She looked happier than she had in a long time. “You two should not be spending Valentine’s Day with your mother. Why don’t you go out and have some fun?”
Ethan tucked the last bite of cupcake in his mouth, then pushed his chair back. He wrapped his arms around his mother and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
* * *
“Night, Gwen.” Stephanie tipped her hand side to side imitating a perfect pageant wave, before the door clicked shut behind her. The soft hum of the cooler the only sound left in the room.
Gwen swept her hand over the light switches, extinguishing all but one at the back of the store. The faint glow illuminated the empty cases. Even the bran muffins sold out.
She dropped into a chair, her feet stretched out in front of her, and heeled off her shoes. Gwen released a groan, wiggling her toes. The cold tile provided relief to the dull throb that spread through her feet.
The final rush had come a half hour before closing. Men rushing to stay out of the dog house by buying last minute treats for their Valentines.
As she tugged the clip out of her hair, the door chimed. Shoot. Stephanie had forgotten to lock the door. So much for getting home to a hot bath.
“Sorry. We’re all out.” Gwen threw a glance over her shoulder. Ethan stood holding two paper handled bags.
With a sheepish smile, he shrugged, “I thought you might be hungry.”
She was hungry, all right. Wait. No. Don’t finish that thought and don’t say it aloud.
He set the bags on the chair and whipped out a tablecloth, followed by plates and silverware.
Gwen stood. Realizing her feet were bare, she tucked them back into her shoes.
“Um. What are you doing?”
Ethan set a bottle of wine on the table. He uncorked it and filled two glasses with the burgundy liquid. “I take it with the rush you had today, you haven�
�t had dinner.”
“No.” Gwen looked from the table to Ethan. “But I don’t understand. Why are you here?”
“I tasted those red velvets. I think I may want those on the show.”
“What?” Oh, so this was a professional call. She should be able to handle that. The free publicity alone would be great for her business.
“Yeah, I was thinking about having a dessert segment.”
“Really?” Wow. Ethan wanted to do a segment on her desserts. He must be desperate if he was willing to overlook her behavior earlier.
Ethan pulled the cover off one of the containers. Gwen inhaled the spicy scent of tomato sauce and baked chicken. With a will of their own, her legs moved her toward the table.
He pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit. His hand brushed her arm as he pushed her forward.
This all seemed so strange. Why go to all of this trouble for a recipe?
Ethan lowered himself into the chair next to her. “So what do you think?”
Gwen tucked her hair behind her ear. She would be crazy to turn down his offer. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll give you the recipe.”
He stared at her for a moment, then leaned forward. “I don’t want the recipe. I want you.”
“No.” Gwen vaulted out of the chair, rattling the dishes on the table. She backed away shaking her head. “You saw how I am.”
Why would he want a girl like her? She couldn’t put a complete sentence together in front of him. He needed someone that wasn’t a bumbling idiot.
Ethan stood. In two steps, he closed the distance between them. He reached for her hand, his thumb rubbed back and forth. “You’re doing fine now.”
Gwen ran their conversation through her mind. No flirty comments. No “I love you’s.”
“So you really don’t want a taste? ‘Cause I hear my Chicken Parm is pretty good.”
For the first time, Gwen couldn’t think of a single awkward thing to say.
* * *
Mrs. Haverty peered through the window at the dim interior. Gwen and Ethan laughed at a table in the corner, their heads pressed together. For a botched spell cast so many years ago, the wrinkles smoothed out just fine.
A beautiful young girl with a knit cap covering her brown hair stopped at the door. “Great!” she sighed.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Haverty asked placing a comforting hand on the girl’s arm.
“I was hoping to get here before they closed.” The girl burrowed deeper into her coat. “I’ve been craving one of their gluten and sugar free oatmeal cookies all day. My brother was supposed to get me one and forgot.”
Mrs. Haverty tsked. “What a shame you came out here for nothing.”
The girl tucked her hands in her pocket, letting her gaze fall to the pavement. “Well, it’s not like I had anything else to do.”
“What? A beautiful girl like you doesn’t have plans on Valentine’s Day?”
The young woman frowned, shaking her head.
Mrs. Haverty slid her arm around the young girl’s shoulder, guiding her forward. “There’s a coffee shop around the corner that is still open. How about I buy you a cup of coffee, Maddie?”
Maddie’s head snapped to Mrs. Haverty. “How did you know my name?”
Mrs. Haverty knew many things. One of them being, don’t cast a spell during happy hour.
~~
The Gift
by Jonathan Gould
The warmth of the early morning sun was streaming in through just-opened windows, filling the house with its invigorating warmth as I leapt down the stairs and marched into the kitchen. Straight away, I spotted Jodi standing by the table, engrossed in the morning paper. I couldn’t help smiling.
That’s my lady, I said to myself as I sidled up behind her, peering over her shoulder to see what she was perusing.
Sensing my presence, she turned and smiled.
“Nothing too important, dear,” she said.
I looked down at the paper and saw straight away that she was right.
“Theater listings? Why are you looking at those?”
She shrugged. “I guess it just fell open there.”
“Too bad,” I said. “Wouldn’t expect there’s anything there we’d want to see.”
“Of course not, dear.”
“And can you believe how expensive they are?” I added. “Why would anyone want to spend that kind of money on a play?”
“Boggles the mind just to think about it,” she said as she folded the paper.
That’s what I loved about Jodi. So sensible and practical. We always saw things exactly the same way.
* * *
I was out of the door and almost at the car when I realised I didn’t have my keys. Straightaway, I rushed back into the house and up to the bedroom.
Jodi was sitting on the bed. She looked up as I came in.
“Something wrong?”
“I can’t find my keys.”
“You probably left them in your old trousers. I’ll check the laundry hamper.”
As she stood up, I noticed a small card in her hand.
“What have you got there?” I took a closer look. It had a big heart on the front.
“Is it Valentine’s Day today?”
She nodded, quickly filing the card into a drawer as she passed the dresser.
“Who’s it from?”
“My secret admirer.”
“You’ve got a secret admirer? And who would that be?”
“Never you mind,” she said with a smile as she handed over the keys.
I chuckled. Jodi was just like me. Neither of us took Valentine’s Day seriously. Just another one of those rorts for extorting money from you, that’s what we both thought of it.
As I took off again, she called after me.
“Have a good day, dear.”
* * *
The morning was crazy. I had three reports to write, a presentation to plan for the committee meeting next week, as well as several million emails that each required an immediate response. It was a great relief when midday finally rolled around and I was able to take a well-earned break. As the day was still glorious, I decided to take leave of the office and eat lunch in the nearby park.
Unfortunately, the park proved to be far less peaceful than I had hoped. Everywhere I looked, all I could see were couples. They promenaded down the paths in two-by-twos, like some sort of human Noah’s Ark, holding hands and looking adoringly at each other. I averted my eyes as I searched out a decent eating spot, away from all this lovey-doveyness. Such public displays were definitely not my thing. What I had with Jodi, now that was real. We didn’t need any of this goo-goo eyes nonsense. It was inside, deeply felt.
Locating a seat was not easy. It seemed like the couples’ brigade had commandeered every available park bench. Eventually, I was able to find a spare seat on a little-used side path, beside a pair who, would you believe it, were actually wearing matching T-shirts. I sat down and reached into my case to take out the sandwiches Jodi had made for me, trying to avoid eye contact with the couple sitting opposite and gazing raptly at the cards they each held.
That was when I remembered. It was Valentine’s Day. That explained all of the couples, and all of the overdone displays of affection. Annoying as it was, I didn’t feel like going back to the office. It was just too nice to be outside. I grabbed a sandwich and held it up to my lips …
Ouch!
Something hit me hard on the head. For a moment, the world spun like a merry-go-round. I grabbed hold of the seat, in order to steady myself, and looked down. There was a big ripe plum lying on the ground. I looked up and realized that I was sitting beneath a tree laden with the blasted fruit. For a moment, I considered moving, but there still wasn’t much of an alternative in the way of seating, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to test out my still shaky balance. Besides, there didn’t seem to be any more plums in a direct line with my head, so I figured I was safe staying put.
I took the sandwich again and
made to take a bite. Suddenly, something odd about the couple sitting opposite made me do a double take. I quickly closed my eyes. Clearly, my brain was still affected by the impact of the falling fruit. I slowly counted to ten, then, when I felt that the world was no longer spinning, I opened them again. But it didn’t help. It was still in front of me, as plain as day.
The couple themselves didn’t look particularly peculiar, that is, as long as you didn’t find the sight of two people staring at each other as if there was nothing else in the world to be anything unusual. It was what I could see above them that was making me goggle. They both had a big bubble, like the kind you see in cartoons, floating above their heads. And inside those bubbles was the face of the opposite member of the couple.
“Isn’t that sweet? Corny, but sweet.”
The voice came from my left side, right beside my ear. I quickly turned to view the speaker, but the only people I could see beside me were the aforementioned matching T-shirt couple, both of whom seemed utterly unaware that there was actually someone else beside them on the bench.
I was so perplexed by this apparent voice out of nowhere that it took me a moment to register the recurrence of the bizarre phenomenon I had just witnessed in front of me. This couple had them too; the strange bubbles above their heads, each of which contained the face of their partner in T-shirt crimes.
“Now that really is special.”
This time, the voice came from my right side. It was high in pitch, like a child’s, but had a strange sense of knowingness about it.
I quickly turned the other way, but there was absolutely nobody close by.
“And the best bit is, they had no idea they were doing it. Each of them bought the other a t-shirt, completely unaware that they were about to receive one that was exactly the same.”
The voice was now directly in front. This time, I turned slowly. By now, I was well past goggling. The sight before my eyes made the thought bubbles seem like the kind of thing you see every day, and twice on Sundays.
8 Hearts Beat As One: A Romance Anthology Page 10