Margo put an arm around her shoulders. “The day is coming when some great guy isn’t going to let you get away with that anymore.”
“Margo’s right. Nora, your day is coming, but Margo’s is already here.” Rosie cut more slices of brownie for everyone. “If Robert is as special as you make him sound, then you’ve just got to make room in your life for him.”
“If I had any extra hours, I should put them into the bistro.”
“What do you mean? This place is perfect the way it is.”
“Thanks for saying that, Nora. But it isn’t the operations end that needs more time. It’s the accounting and reporting side of things.”
“You should hire an accountant. One of my physio clients would be perfect….”
“Thanks, but Robert’s been helping me out.” Not that she could afford to hire an accountant, anyway. “I’m sure we’ll have things sorted out soon.”
“You’ve mentioned financial problems before.” Rosie gave her an assessing look. “It isn’t serious, is it?”
“No. Of course not.” Her pride wouldn’t let her admit otherwise. Though each of her friends worked in different fields, they were all successful at what they did.
She could not admit that she was anything less. Margo stared at the piece of brownie Rosie had served onto her plate. She wished she felt like eating it. But her stomach was churning again, and she realized she’d been naive to think that her friends were going to be able to come up with a magical solution for her.
There were only so many hours in the day. And only so many dollars in her savings account. It was up to her to make the most of what she had. She’d find some way to make it all work. She just had to.
Friday’s Soup of the Day:
Peter Pumpkin Eater
MARGO POURED a refill of decaf for the new mother who’d been frequenting the bistro since her baby was born. Her husband was out of town this week, so she’d been coming in even more than usual.
“I haven’t had three straight hours of sleep since he left,” the young mother confided. She lifted the cup Margo had just filled. “I wish I could drink the real stuff. But I’m still breastfeeding.”
Margo peered at the infant who was sleeping next to her mother’s chest. “They’re a lot of work,” she admitted. “But so worth it. When is your husband coming home?”
“Tonight. I’m planning to say hello, then go straight to bed. And he won’t be invited to join me.”
Margo laughed, then went to clear a vacant table. She gathered the mugs and plates and carried them behind the counter. It was Friday and since it was the kids’ weekend with their dad, she had plans to see Robert. They’d had dinner on Wednesday, and had talked for hours after. He was still optimistic about the bistro’s future. The key area right now was inventory control.
The changes Robert had suggested would take a while to implement fully, but even she was feeling more hopeful now.
Next week she’d begin calling her suppliers and see if she could negotiate some of the bulk discounts Robert had suggested.
She kept busy until six o’clock when the night staff arrived and Margo was able to go upstairs to change. Once she was ready, she pulled out the basket of unpaid bills and added up the amount she’d need to pay everything off. The total exceeded her bank balance by several hundred dollars.
This was what she should be doing tonight. Figuring out how to pay these bills. She still had some money in a retirement fund. If—
The doorbell rang. Robert. She stuffed the basket back onto the shelf, then went to the door. Her stomach was still knotted with worry about the bills, but she had to smile at the sight of Robert in her doorway.
He definitely was the best thing that had happened to her in a long, long time.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” she lied, ignoring the sick feeling that lingered in her stomach.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it for lunch. What was the soup of the day?”
She smiled. “Peter Pumpkin Eater.”
“Pumpkin? I’ve never had pumpkin soup before.”
“It’s delicious. I add a dash of curry and coconut milk. It’s spicy, but sweet, too. Ellie’s envious. She wants me to name a soup for her now.”
“Speaking of food, what restaurant do you want to go to tonight?”
She couldn’t imagine eating just yet. “Could we take a walk first?” At the word walk, Boy perked his ears, but Margo had already taken him out for his exercise. “Sorry, Boy. This time you’re staying behind.”
Out on the street, Robert took her hand. “Busy day?”
“Very. How about you? I presume the interview went well?”
“The one with Citibank went very well. We talked for hours and I was given the full office tour. But we’ll see if I get the call back on Monday.”
In the dusk, her familiar street was cast with a romantic glow. Margo noticed there were a lot of couples out walking tonight. She glanced sideways at Robert. Did he think of them as a couple? Had they been seeing each other long enough for that?
They passed a Vietnamese restaurant and Margo inhaled the light scent of lemongrass. Even that delicious aroma wasn’t enough to make her hungry.
“Was it just because of your mom that you got into banking?”
“I always knew I would do something in business. I used to follow the New York Stock Exchange the way other boys kept tabs on box scores.”
“What a dork you must have been,” she teased.
“Ah, but I was a happy dork. How about you? Did you always want to own your own restaurant?”
“I grew up cooking with my mother. She loved preparing big meals for our family and friends and everything she made, she made from scratch. No mixes or shortcuts for her.”
“It seems like culinary school would have been a natural fit for you.”
“I thought so, too. But my marks were very good and my parents really wanted me to get a college degree. On a lark one year, I took the LSAT, and my scores were so high that everyone encouraged me to continue on with law. My parents were very pleased.”
“I guess they would be.”
“I met Tom when I was articling. I think working for the same firm masked the fact that we had very little else in common. We definitely had different ideas about the kind of family we wanted to build.”
Ahead of them, a line was forming for entrance into one of SOMA’s most popular nightclubs. The thumping techno beat ebbed and faded as they passed by. A group of young men casually joined the lineup. One gave Margo an open look of approval.
Robert put his arm around her. “It’s getting dark. Maybe we should grab a cab.”
She appreciated the protective behavior and knew it was warranted. Certain streets in SOMA were safer than others, and they’d strayed a long way from the bistro.
Ten minutes later, they were in the backseat of a hybrid electric yellow cab headed for Pier 39. Robert had suggested the destination.
“I know it probably seems tacky to you, but I still feel like a tourist, even though I’ve lived here for a year.”
“Pier 39 is always fun,” she assured him. “You know there’s a carousel…”
He looked at her, amused. “What is it with you and merry-go-rounds?”
“This one is special. Really. It was hand-painted in Italy with scenes of the city’s most famous landmarks.”
“I assume you’re going to want to have a ride?”
“Absolutely. And you’re coming, too.”
He shook his head.
“Yes, you are. Do you want a horse or a chariot? Or maybe we should sit in one of the spinning tubs?”
He rolled his eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHATEVER HAD BEEN troubling Margo when he’d picked her up that evening seemed to be forgotten on Pier 39. The place was pure magic as far as Robert was concerned. Or maybe it was Margo who held all the magic.
As they approached the carousel in the middle of the pier, it sparkled with thousand
s of diamond-like lights.
“Look at that, Robert? How can you resist it?”
“What can I say? I have a lot of willpower.” This was true of carousels, but not of Margo. He had no ability to resist her at all.
“Spoilsport.” She wrinkled her nose at him, then joined the lineup for tickets.
She insisted on riding, not once, but twice. As before, he was captivated by the sight of her. If only he’d thought to bring his camera…
He noticed a woman taking pictures of her children.
“Excuse me. This may sound strange, but I was wondering if I could borrow your camera to take a picture.” He offered her a ten-dollar bill.
She looked at him like he was crazy.
“You can e-mail me the picture.” He pulled an old business card from his pocket and a pen. He scratched out the address of his former place of employment and scribbled down his home e-mail address.
“See that woman?” He pointed to Margo as she whirled by. “Isn’t she something?”
Finally the mother smiled, then nodded. “I get it. But you don’t need to pay me. It doesn’t cost anything to send an e-mail.”
She passed him the camera and he thanked God there were still a few romantics left in the world. The next time Margo spun past—smiling, waving, blowing kisses—he snapped a quick shot.
“Thank you,” he told the mother, as he passed back her camera. “You’ve got cute kids.”
“You will, too, one day,” she predicted.
He thought about Margo’s comment that she’d wanted more than two children. “I hope you’re right,” he told the woman.
She just smiled. The carousel began to slow and she left to find her children.
He waited where he was, not certain if Margo was going to get on for a third ride. But she didn’t. She came running toward him, laughing. “Where did you get that camera?”
He told her the story and she shook her head, still smiling. “That’s just crazy. Now you’ve got to come for a ride with me.”
“Real men don’t ride toy horses.”
“That is so not true.”
“Well, this real man doesn’t ride toy horses. But I remain happy to watch. Want to go again?”
“Actually, I’m hungry all of a sudden.”
“Must be all that spinning around in circles,” he joked. If it were him, he’d be looking for the nearest barf bag.
They strolled along the wharf to the Crab House, then perched on stools to eat crab cakes and crab chowder. Robert wondered when he’d last had this much fun.
The answer to that was easy. The last time he’d been with Margo.
After their dinner, he led her away from the crowds. “Had enough walking yet?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
He stepped into a shadow and pulled her close. Her body seemed to tremble just a little. “Are you cold?”
“Not at all.” She looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. He smoothed the hair from her face, then kissed her.
She kissed him back the way she rode merry-go-rounds—without reservation—and caution suddenly seemed the most overrated virtue in the world.
“Margo, would you consider…”
“Yes.”
Five minutes later they were in another yellow cab. This time he gave the driver the address to his place.
ROBERT’S APARTMENT was neat and organized and smelled like pine floor cleaner. It was far from the quintessential bachelor’s pad and Margo loved it for that fact. As soon as he’d locked the door behind them, he started kissing her again, and she felt the same mad loss of reason she’d experienced on the wharf.
He slipped off her jacket and his, then started kissing her again. He paused briefly to ask if she’d like any wine? Or music?
She said yes to the music, thinking it would buy her a little time. Was she sure she wanted to do this? Yes. Was she sure it was smart to do this? No.
But that didn’t seem to matter. He turned up the volume on his stereo and she recognized the hypnotic melody of an old Coldplay hit. As Robert came back to her, she felt the blood rushing, but it wasn’t toward her head.
He cupped her face and kissed her again, and she loved how tenderly he did this. He soothed her body with his hands, and she was amazed at how a touch so gentle could make her feel so hot.
“If I leave the bedroom door open, we’ll still be able to hear the music.”
For the second time that night she said, “Yes.”
But it wasn’t the last.
IT WAS ONE IN THE MORNING and Robert had crawled out of bed to make them tea. Margo was curled on her side, with Robert’s sheets all around her.
His bedroom was tidy. His sheets smelled like fabric softener. He had a copy of Find Your Own Parachute next to the alarm clock by his bed.
“Tea is served.” Wearing nothing but a clean pair of boxers, Robert came into the room with a tray piled high with toast and jam he’d brought along with the tea. Ultimate comfort food. She reached for one of the mugs.
Robert crawled under the covers next to her and flicked on the TV. Switching through channels, he paused at a scene between Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly.
“Oh, I love that movie.”
“Okay. We’ll do the Hitchcock thing.” Robert picked up his mug of tea, then shifted the tray over to make room for her to snuggle next to him. Margo made herself comfortable, then reached for a square of toast.
“Thanks for the tea and toast. This is nice.”
“Yeah.” Robert turned to her. “So was the other.”
She smiled. Eventually she sensed him focus back on the television.
After several minutes he asked, “Do they eventually find the wife’s body?”
Margo thought for a minute. “You know, I can’t remember how it ends.”
ON SUNDAY NIGHT Tom brought the children home just after dinner. Usually he dropped them off, then hurried back to his car. Tonight, he stood in the doorway, looking like he had something on his mind.
Margo did not feel inclined to invite him in. “Is there a problem?”
Ellie had raced to her bedroom, while Peter had headed straight for Boy. The two were cuddled on the sofa in the living room. In the background, Margo could hear the cartoon characters from Peter’s favorite show having a disagreement.
“You tell me, Margo.” Tom leaned a shoulder into the door frame. “Who is this guy you’ve been dating? He seems to be spending a lot of time with my kids.”
“You met him at the wedding, Tom. He’s Robert Brookman.”
“You introduced him as a friend. I didn’t realize you were involved with him.”
Margo folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t see what business this is of yours.”
“Peter told me he started playing soccer with some of the boys at school. I asked him when he learned how to play and he told me ‘Mom’s friend, Robert, taught me.’”
“So? Do you have a problem with Peter playing soccer?”
“Don’t act dumb, Margo. I have a right to know about someone who’s spending time with my kids.”
“I don’t remember being filled in about Catherine when you started seeing her.”
“So you admit that you’re dating? Is it getting serious?”
“You make it sound like it would be a crime if I was.”
“Well, are you or aren’t you?”
“Tom, lower your voice.” Margo glanced down the hall to the family room. Peter seemed oblivious to their conversation, but she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t listening.
She stepped out to the stairwell and partially closed the door. “Robert and I are friends, let’s leave it at that, okay? If we ever decide to get married, I’ll be sure to give you a phone call a few days before the ceremony.”
Tom’s face reddened. “Look, Margo, you can’t compare Catherine with this guy of yours. Ellie told me he doesn’t even have a job.”
“That’s enough.” She was not going to defend Robert to him. “You’re just going t
o have to trust that the people I bring into our children’s lives are good people. Just as I have to trust the same with you.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry, but this conversation is over. Say hello to Catherine for me.” Margo slipped back inside and quickly shut and bolted the door.
Monday’s Soup of the Day:
Poor Man’s Vegetable
THE NEXT DAY the credit manager from the bank called to confirm his appointment with Margo. As if she could have forgotten. At about the same time that Robert was meeting the people at Citibank for his second interview, Margo was seated across the desk from a man who looked fresh out of college.
“Unfortunately, according to these numbers—” he patted the cash flow statements “—you’re going to have trouble paying off the principal of our loan. In fact, I don’t think you’ll have enough money to stay in business for another three months.”
Three months. Margo swallowed. She’d paid a few of the more pressing bills that morning—her suppliers wouldn’t keep up deliveries if her account wasn’t current—leaving very little in her savings. She had a meeting scheduled at the bank, where she had her personal account, later in the week to convert some retirement savings into cash. But she was hoping her operating profit would turn around before she needed to spend too much of that.
“A little extra bridge financing right now would pay off for you in the long run.” She didn’t think the chances were very good that he would say yes, but she had to try.
“Sorry. You’re too much of a credit risk for that.”
“I’m in the process of implementing some new policies and procedures. I’ve repriced the menu and tightened my inventory controls.” She squared her shoulders and did her best to look dependable. “If you could give me a few months, I’m sure cash flow will improve.”
The college graduate referred to the papers on his desk once again. “I don’t think we have a few months.”
“How about one month?”
He rubbed his chin as he considered the situation. “Do you really think you can turn this thing around?”
“I’ve already spoken to a consultant—” surely Robert could be considered one “—and he’s assured me that it’s possible.”
Love And The Single Mom (Singles.... With Kids #1) Page 13