by Judy Kentrus
Caleb pictured himself putting a muzzle on the eight-year-old’s mouth… she was too much like her mother. “Mr. Walters, I’m here as a guest just like everyone else. Please don’t make a fuss.”
“Follow me to the cafeteria,” he said and turned to the children. “You’ve done a great job as greeters, now it’s time to enjoy yourselves.”
He was totally out of his element as he walked beside his escorts down the hall bordered on either side by closed classroom doors. Wide shadow boxes fronted by clear glass and colorful posters advertising school events added life to the plain walls. He was glad the principal didn’t engage him in conversation. He felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter when they made a right-hand turn down another hallway. Laughter, talking, and squealing from young children could be heard the closer they got to the entrance.
He paused and let the others enter first. Strips of bright fluorescent lights ran across the ceiling in the opposite direction of the long tables and hard plastic chairs were all currently occupied by children and their families. Rolled white paper covered twelve tables, and flags from the different countries had been strategically lined up down the center. No one had to tell him who had placed the centerpieces.
A plethora of delicious smells was a reminder that he’d never stopped for lunch. He’d been too busy reaming some of his staff and members of his advertising department. The posters and donation boxes for the Helping Hands project were delayed but would arrive tomorrow, come hell or high water. His VP had been thoroughly convinced Caleb had lost his mind when he insisted on having red appliances. He went so far as to tell Bradley to paint them himself if need be.
The one bright spot of his day was when he got home. The plane kits for the Super Flyers had been delivered. He hoped to have their first meeting Wednesday, after school.
If he were smart, he’d ask Erin to give him some advice on how to deal with three eight-year-olds. Now he was facing another challenge, one that was totally out of his control.
Studying the faces of the children, he wondered if Daniel’s supposed daughter was in this room. Preston Reynolds was as good as his word and sent a confidential report. Of the three third-grade classes, there were forty-two little girls. He’d been able to access class pictures and determined that eight had reddish brown hair. The others had blond and black hair. That was as far as he went.
Was he that close to the little girl? Would he be able to sense if she was part of his brother? An indirect part of him? They’d fit him for a straitjacket if he asked all the little girls to take off their shoes so he see if they had a candy-cane pinky toe.
Finding his niece was the main purpose for coming to Fort Mavis, but he’d been too caught up in Santa Traditions and falling in love. Last night when he went to bed, the scent from her hair lingered on the other pillow. He felt her presence and admitted what he’d been struggling to admit. He was hopelessly in love with Erin.
He searched out the faces of the crowd, looking for his maverick. His heart kicked up when he saw her sitting at the last table in the row, talking to Meredith, the other third grade teacher. Tonight she was dressed in a plain, tailored red dress, but she added a scarf around her neck in a black and white zebra print. All that luxurious hair was in a neat bun on the top of her head. He was the only man in the room who knew what that sleek body looked like under those prim and proper clothes; what that mane of fire felt like when it swept his naked body as she moved her mouth over his chest, his stomach, on her way to taste…
“Mr. Thompson! You are here!” Danielle squealed, drawing him out of his sexual haze.
“I told you I would come,” he replied with a big smile. She was a beautiful child and looked so much like her mother, right down to the freckles on her nose and red-gold hair currently in a long ponytail. The only difference was her eyes that were an aqua green. The front of her pink polo bore a picture of Rey from Star Wars.
“Mom saved you a seat,” she said and grabbed him by the hand.
He didn’t acknowledge any of the whispers he caught as they skirted the tables; he’s the man from Hughes; giving us tablets; made Tamales. When he finally faced Erin, something he’d been looking forward to all day, he was disappointed she greeted him with a smile that lacked warm enthusiasm. It certainly wasn’t that of the woman who had blown his mind in bed yesterday. At first he didn’t believe her when she said they would go back to their platonic relationship, but apparently she was dead serious. The stiff, proper schoolmarm was back.
“So glad you could join us this evening, Mr. Thompson. You got here just in time.”
Two could play at this game. Let’s see how she likes getting the polite shoulder. “Thank you for the invitation, Ms. MacKenna,” he said and deliberately turned his attention to the teacher sitting on the opposite side of the table.
“Meredith? Right?” He pasted on an extra friendly smile. “Thank you for all of your help with the project. Is the seat beside you reserved for anyone special?” Husband? Boyfriend?”
“Absolutely not, be my guest. It was a pleasure helping you.”
As soon as he sat down, Principal Walters stood in front of the room and thanked everyone for participating in the international food night. He cautioned those on special diets to be aware of dietary restrictions especially their children. If anyone had questions, each contributor’s name was on the tent card in front of the dish, along with the third grade teacher’s name.
“Before we start calling two tables at a time, I would like to acknowledge a special guest, Mr. Daniel Thompson and want to thank him for his generosity in donating tablets for our children in the second, third, fourth and fifth grade classes. His generosity didn’t stop there. He made the Tamales. Mr. Thompson, please stand up.”
A string of silent curses ran through his head when everyone started clapping. He preferred crawling under the table rather than standup and accept thanks. Now the entire world would know about his cooking. He offered a stiff nod and tight-lipped smile before he sat down.
He glowered at Erin. “Was that you’re doing?”
“Actually, you can blame Danielle for spreading the word.”
The keep-your-distance vibes coming from the other side of the table sent a chill down his spine, but the woman sitting next to him was sending out “I’m available” signals. It wouldn’t be right to encourage her flirtation, but he wasn’t done with Ms. Tight-ass Erin. He turned slightly in his chair and deliberately focused his attention on Meredith.
“Did you make any of the food tonight?”
“I’m a dunce in the kitchen, but my class was responsible for the desserts. Do you have a sweet tooth? Oh, that’s right you like gingerbread cookies.”
“I’m not really into fancy desserts, but those are my favorite cookies. They’re somewhat plain and unpretentious on the outside, but they’re keeping a deep, dark secret. One bite and you’re surprised by the layers of exotic flavors that explode on your tongue. You’re rewarded with this full, rich flavor of blended spices you never expected. The little bit of sweet icing adds to the overall taste. You want to keep eating and eating until you devour the entire thing and satisfy your craving. They’re addictive, like buttered popcorn.”
It was hard to ignore the coughing from the other side of the table. “Are you okay, Ms. MacKenna?” he politely asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“Fine, Mr. Thompson,” she grated.
Meredith backed away slightly. “I have never heard anyone describe a gingerbread cookie so passionately.”
“Oh, there’s a great deal of passion involved. It takes a special kind of woman, I mean, baker to keep me satisfied.”
“I’d offer to make you a batch of cookies, but I don’t think I’d be able to satisfy your particular taste.”
“That’s the secret to finding the perfect cookie. You just have to keep looking for the perfect blend.”
“I noticed Erin added your name to the card in front of the tamales. Do you like things hot?”
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He directed his answer to the woman on the other side of the table shooting invisible lightning bolts directly at his head. “It all depends on my mood. My tastes can go from hot to cool at a moment’s notice.”
This time Erin didn’t cough or verbally acknowledge his comment. The tip of his knee smarted from where it met with the point of her shoe. He respected that she had to maintain a professional demeanor surrounded by her colleagues, students, and their families, but he loved teasing her and that kick had told him a lot. He braced himself for possible retaliation.
Principal Walters interrupted their conversation and announced tables eleven and twelve. “I believe that’s us,” Caleb said and put his hand to the back of Meredith’s chair when she stood up. “Can I get you something to eat?” he asked when Erin didn’t stand up right away.
“Why no, Mr. Thompson. I need to be very careful. I ate something yesterday afternoon and it left a bad taste in my mouth.”
Caleb bit back a grin, but winked in acknowledgment of her clever repartee.
Chapter 11
Erin fumed and held her tray in clenched fingers. The line was moving slowly and Danielle had asked if she could eat with her friends. She refused to turn around and acknowledge Meredith and the PR man behind her. The swine was doing it on purpose, trying to make her jealous. She’d never been jealous in her life. As far as she was concerned, jealousy was a waste of her emotional time and effort. What happened to agreeing to go back to their platonic relationship? She hoped he choked on his food!
She no sooner had she returned to the table when they were joined by Elaine Madison, her mother and Amelia.
“Everything is so delicious, this should be a yearly event,” Elaine said, and noticed Erin’s plate. “How come you’re not eating any tamales?”
Erin put a hand to her stomach. “To be perfectly honest, I had my fill yesterday. They’re an acquired taste and it took some getting used to since I haven’t had any in a long time.” She turned her head and stared directly at the PR man. “This evening’s event is a perfect example of the different flavors and tastes that are available, just waiting to be explored.”
“Touché,” he replied with an “I got your message” smile.
Elaine looked at her fellow employee and then her neighbor. “Why do I get the feeling you two are having a private conversation?”
“I sensed that, too,” Meredith added. “Care to share?”
“No!” Erin quickly answered and changed the subject. “What is everyone doing for Thanksgiving? Danielle and I will be helping serve dinner at the outreach center. We can always use an extra pair of hands.”
“Wish I could help you out, but we’re going to my sister’s house,” Meredith said in a voice filled with dread. “My brother and his family will also be there. As usual, I’ll be the topic of conversation with everyone asking why I haven’t found a husband.”
“We’re having a house full,” Elaine said. “My husband’s family will be joining us. It’s important we keep up the tradition, sharing the holidays together, especially since Ron died. It will be the first Thanksgiving without him.”
The festive mood at the table dimmed and the sadness in Elaine’s voice urged Erin to reach out and give her friend’s hand a comforting squeeze. “You’re fortunate to have wonderful relatives. Not everyone is lucky enough to have such a supportive family.”
The words had barely left her mouth when she realized how her comment would affect Daniel. He would be without his family, the parents who had left him to grieve alone. Without being too obvious, she met his eyes that had lost their flirtatious gleam. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, too. That wasn’t possible, so she silently mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
Caleb nodded in acknowledgement of her apology. His parents weren’t big on holidays so he never gave celebrating as a family much importance. They’d celebrated when his grandfather was alive, but the tradition ended when he passed away. Thanksgiving was spent with Daniel, at the same shelter serving Thanksgiving dinner. This would be the first year he was totally alone.
“Who’s ready for dessert and coffee? There are some great-looking cakes.”
“Nothing for me,” he replied, appreciating Erin’s efforts to lighten his depressive mood. He watched her move around to his side of the table and pause beside his chair.
“Not even coffee?”
“That I can use.” He went to stand up, but the pressure of her hand on his shoulder and the light squeeze of her fingers conveyed comforting support.
“Sit. I know how you like it.”
“You certainly do, in more ways than one,” he said with a small smile.
When they returned from the dessert table, Caleb was surprised Amelia Madison sat in the chair previously occupied by Meredith. Louis’ little sister had cherub-like features, but he braced himself when she gave him a no-nonsense stare.
“Mr. Elf, do you know if Santa made enough Harry the electric dog? Mommy said we can’t have a real one because I get all itchy around real dogs and cats.”
“If you asked Santa for one, he could put you on the list.”
Amelia turned quickly, forgetting she had a fork in her hand. The sharp tines, coated with chocolate icing, found their way in the back of the elf’s hand. “I haven’t visited him yet, but you’re an elf and can tell him ahead of time.”
“Amelia! You shouldn’t reach out with a sharp object in your hand! Apologize to Mr. Thompson.”
“Sorry, Mr. Elf.”
The slight jab didn’t hurt and Caleb wiped the back of his hand with a napkin. “No harm done,” he said, and smiled at the little girl. “If I see Santa, I’ll let him know what you would like to have.”
“Thanks!”
“What are you doing for the holiday?” Meredith asked from the other side of the table since Amelia had stolen her seat.
The words “reach out” popped into his head and he raised his eyes to ceiling. Got it. Thanks for taking care of me, brother. He looked at Erin.
“I’ve got nothing better to do this Thanksgiving. Any chance you need an extra pair of hands in the kitchen at the Outreach Center?”
“How are you at carving a turkey? It’s usually my job but I’d be glad to turn it over to a master chef.”
The happiness he saw in her eyes at his offer to help was all he needed to know. “I’ll bring my own knives.”
At the conclusion of the evening, Principal Walters thanked everyone for coming and invited parents to look at the pictures the students had made, depicting their favorite things.
“Come on, Mr. Thompson,” Danielle said, urging him and Erin to follow the crowd leaving the cafeteria. “It’s on the board just outside my classroom.”
They had to wait a couple of minutes for the rest of the families to ooh and ah at the pictures that their children had made.
“This is mine!” Danielle said proudly and pointed at the picture on the top row, despite her name being boldly printed on the bottom of the orange construction paper. “Mr. Thompson, the plane with the red cape is for our club and the pile of rocks next to the mountain shows how much I like rock collecting. The football going over the goal and ball and bat show how much I like sports.”
Erin put a hand to her daughter’s shoulder and pointed to the brown and white horse drawn between two females. Both had red hair. “Tell me about this.”
“Don’t you get it? The lady on one side is you and the kid on the other is me.”
“What’s the significance of the question mark on the top of the horse?” Caleb asked, and then figured it out for himself. Shit!
“I couldn’t fill that in because I don’t know what my new father will look like, but I know he’ll be a cowboy.”
Caleb gave Erin a quick troubled glance before putting an arm around Danielle’s shoulder. “You did a great job. Looking at your plane reminded me that the kits came today and, if it’s okay with your mom and the other parents, we can meet in my garage Wednesday aft
er school from four-fifteen to five-thirty. The first session will be spent reviewing instructions and your tool kits. If there’s time, we’ll start on the body of the plane.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Erin said. “I’ll see the other parents tomorrow so I can mention the first meeting to them.”
“I appreciate it.
The crowd in the hall had dwindled and they stepped outside into the cool evening air. The black sky was filled with thousands of stars and the last remaining slice of a November moon. Exterior lights illuminated the front walk and the parking lot. They paused beside Erin’s car and she pushed the button to unlock the door so Danielle could get into the back seat.
“Thanks for coming, Mr. Thompson. My friends said your tamales were very good.”
“Thank you for inviting me. I had a very nice time. I’ll see you Wednesday at our first meeting.”
Caleb put his hand to Erin’s elbow when he walked her around the car and opened the door to the driver’s side. “I really did have a good time, even though my love for cooking is no longer a secret.”
“And it didn’t hurt one bit. I was a little annoyed when you were cornered by four women, who just happen to be divorced and on the prowl for new husbands, and they asked for the recipe for your hot tamales.”
He tapped her on the tip of her nose, wishing it was his lips. “Annoyed or jealous?”
Erin looked in the car at her daughter who was occupied on her mini iPad and lowered her voice. “Jealousy is a wasted emotional effort, but in this case I wanted to scratch their eyes out. Satisfied?”
“Good enough. Just one last question. How are your gingerbread cookies?”
“You should know. One bite and you’re seduced by the layers of exotic flavors that explode on your tongue. Mine are one of a kind because my icing has an extra bit of sweetness that’s addictive.”
Wednesday evening, Caleb drank a half glass of sangria and sat down at the kitchen table. “What the hell ever possessed me to try and teach three eight-year-olds about building a plane?”