Bahama Mama
Page 9
“Wait. What?” Cheyenne sat up.
Molly was struggling into a pair of Spanx now. “Ugh! I feel like a stuffed sausage in this thing.” She tugged on the waistband and snapped it back into place.
Cheyenne growled with frustration. “When did you fall into Anders’ arms?”
“You know how celebrities turn me into a spaz?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, as you can imagine, I was a wreck when I met Anders. I accidentally doused him in hot coffee and his shirt came off. And then I tripped and he caught me.”
“Tripped?” Cheyenne arched an eyebrow, unsure if she was surprised or suspicious.
“Yes! It was all one big fat accident. You sound like that publicist. She accused me of setting Anders up in a compromising position to further my career as a wannabe country singer.”
“You are a country singer. One of the best. Who cares if you aren’t famous? What does that woman know about anything?” It really ticked Cheyenne off when people criticized her mother’s talent. She had a true gift from God. Molly always said success was part talent, part timing, and part luck, and she just wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Cheyenne believed that was the only reason she wasn’t famous. Dumb luck.
“Don’t worry about it, Chey. I’m not.” Molly slid the new dress over her head. The lacy jade green sheath and matching stilettos made her pretty, red-headed mama look like the country music superstar she was meant to be.
Moving to stand in front of the dresser mirror, Molly reached up to twist her hair into a bun. She caught Cheyenne’s eye in the reflection. “Your dress. Go put it on. We’ve got to go.”
Cheyenne had already re-braided her hair and brushed her teeth when she got home from school, so it didn’t take her more than a minute to slide into the white and pink floral sundress. She sat on the edge of the bed to put on her pink cowgirl boots and hesitated. Amanda Grace’s boyfriend Troy bussed tables at the Key West Beach Club. What if Cheyenne bumped into him and he saw the boots? Feeling suddenly nauseous, she put the boots back into her closet and pulled out a pair boring black sandals instead.
When Cheyenne came out of her room, Molly was at the table, stuffing lipstick, cash, and an ID into a small white dress purse. She slid the silver chain strap over her head so it crossed her body and grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door. “All set?”
“Yeah.”
“Hit the lights. And make sure you pull the door closed tight and double check the lock,” Molly said over her shoulder as she went out the door and started down the stairs.
Cheyenne balked. As if I don't know how to lock up the house. When was Molly going to start trusting her? She wasn't a baby anymore. Cheyenne gave the door a hard pull, feeling it catch in place before twisting the knob to make sure it was locked.
Molly let out a shout as she slipped on a stair and pitched forward halfway to the bottom.
It all happened so fast. Cheyenne froze on the landing, stupidly watching her mother grab for the railing and land hard on her side against the metal steps. Her shoes flew off and the lacy fabric of her dress caught on a protruding bolt, which kept her from sliding farther.
“Ma!” Cheyenne dashed down the stairs after her. When she reached the step her mother had fallen from, she slipped too, but the scuffed soles of her sandals had better traction than her mother’s heels. She merely fell backward and landed on her butt on a higher step. She sprang up, skipped the treacherous step, and carefully hurried down the rest of the way to reach her mother who had sat up in a daze.
“Oh my goodness. Are you okay?” Cheyenne was afraid to touch her, so she hovered close, waiting for her mother to say she was fine. Her hair had come out of its neat bun. Red-gold curls stuck out everywhere and spiraled down her back. She didn’t appear to be bleeding, but her eyes were glazed and she seemed disoriented.
Molly squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head before she reached for the railing to pull herself up.
“No, don’t try to stand yet.”
Molly groaned and sat back down. “What happened?”
Cheyenne swallowed hard. “You fell.”
“It’s all right. I’m all right.” She patted Cheyenne’s knee and finally turned to look at her. The slight movement made her wince. “Just a little sore. I banged my hip.”
There was a gaping tear in her clingy, form-fitting dress. Cheyenne’s heart sank. “Oh no. Your dress is ruined.”
Molly stared at the tear blankly for a moment and then her face crinkled up as she struggled not to cry. “Did I trip on something? What the heck happened?”
Cheyenne's throat thickened with emotion. She put an arm around her mother's shoulders and gave her a sideways hug. She hated seeing her mother hurt and upset. “No, the step is slippery. I don’t remember it being like that before.” That’s because the stair wasn’t slippery before. Not two hours ago when Cheyenne got home from school and not twenty minutes ago when Molly got home from work.
Amanda Grace. Was she to blame for this? Cheyenne stiffened as a surge of white-hot rage threatened to pop the top of her head off. Childish pranks were right up that witch’s alley, but this one had almost killed someone. Molly could have broken her neck! When Amanda Grace talked about Cheyenne’s “days being numbered” was she talking about something more sinister than just making her move to another school? Shaky and sick to her stomach, Cheyenne hugged Molly tighter. This was Cheyenne’s fault for hiding behind April and not standing up to the bully months ago.
But did she have the nerve even now?
“I’m so sorry, Ma.”
Molly touched her arm. “I’m all right baby girl. Where are my shoes?”
“I don’t know.” Cheyenne scanned the area and spotted one of the jade green stilettos several steps up. It lay on its side, the heel completely snapped off. The other shoe was missing. She spotted it below the metal steps bathing in a puddle of mud. “Oh, no, Ma. They’re ruined!”
“It’s all right. They can be fixed.”
No, they couldn't. She was lying. She could see the disappointment hiding behind her mother’s false smile. Cheyenne’s bottom lip quivered as anger, guilt, and frustration bubbled over inside her and she started to cry.
Molly hugged her while she bawled her eyes out, but it only lasted about a minute because the image of Amanda Grace broadcasting her meltdown on Facebook Live crept into her mind. She pulled herself together and calmed the heck down.
“I’m sorry I scared you. All better now?” Molly gave her a tender smile that made her feel all warm and mushy inside, and the tears threatened to return.
Cheyenne blinked them back and wiped her nose. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“I need to change and text Sophie. We’re going to be so late.” Molly started to rise to her feet. When she hissed in pain, Cheyenne stood up and caught her under the arm.
“Here, lean on me.”
They made their way up the stairs slowly, being extra careful when they came to the slippery step.
Once her mother was inside the apartment, Cheyenne turned around and scanned the parking lot. She couldn't shake the creepy sensation she was being watched, but the lot was empty except for a few parked cars. The rays from the shifting sun glinted off the surface of the slippery step. Cheyenne went to it and touched the shiny surface. Her finger came away coated with a thick, waxy substance. She put it to her nose and got a whiff of citrus and chemicals.
No, this definitely wasn't here before.
Someone had waxed the step on purpose.
A fresh surge of outrage heated her blood, but she tamped it down by focusing on something productive. She would scrub the step clean while her mother was changing. She didn’t want Molly to have the chance to look at it too closely or she might start asking questions.
Chapter Ten
Molly felt like a freshly branded cow as she hobbled into the fancy beachfront restaurant, favoring her left leg. She’d changed into a simple black sleeveless dress with a rounded neckli
ne and a straight hem that fell just below her knees. Long enough to cover the big red bruise that was already starting to turn blue in spots. She decided to forgo the heels she usually wore with this dress and settled on a pair of strappy sandals.
They were thirty minutes late for dinner and had completely missed the rehearsal. While changing clothes, Molly had texted Sophie an apology and an explanation. Her friend was more concerned about Molly’s accident than her absence at the rehearsal and assured her they could go over what she needed to know when she arrived at the restaurant. But Molly was embarrassed for blowing one of her most important duties as maid of honor, especially when she stepped out onto the patio and the groom drew everyone’s eyes to her.
“Hey, short stuff!” Jimmy Panama waved to Molly when he spotted her.
Normally, she would’ve brushed off the silly nickname, but there was nothing normal about this day. She was having dinner with Anders Ostergaard like it was no big thing. A blush warmed her face as she nodded hello to Jimmy and carefully avoided eye contact with Anders. She ushered Cheyenne into the two empty seats waiting for them at the round table.
Jimmy leaned forward. “Heard there was a scafuffle. You all right?”
“It’s kerfuffle.” Sophie bumped his arm with her elbow. “And she’s just fine. Don't embarrass her.”
“She’s right. My ker was just fuffled is all. I’ll be okay.” Molly smiled at Jimmy and her gaze inadvertently strayed to Anders. She realized he was watching her over the rim of his glass, and a fresh surge of heat flushed her face.
Seated side by side, the brothers were framed in the red-orange glow of the sun setting over the Gulf of Mexico. The two men were shockingly similar. Both tall, broad-shouldered, and fit, they had the same slanted blue eyes and square jaw. Jimmy’s face was slightly fuller than Anders’ and his brow was broader. He was clean-shaven and his flaxen hair was cut short, while Anders’ jaw was scruffy with a slight beard and his dirty blond hair scuffed the collar of his dress shirt. Jimmy wore a navy-blue button-down shirt open at the collar. Anders wore a white one with a bolo tie. Both men couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but brothers. How had she not seen it before?
Because what were the odds?
Smiling too brightly at Sophie, Molly took in her friend’s appearance. “You’re absolutely glowing tonight.” Tall, chic, and gorgeous, Sophie looked so much more relaxed than the first time they’d met just nine months ago. Had it been less than a year since they’d become friends? Molly felt as if she’d known Sophie her entire life and the feeling was mutual. Neither of them had ever had a best friend before and they’d become like a couple of teenagers latched onto each other at the hip. When Sophie wasn’t with Jimmy, of course. Sophie’s Alabama-born fiancé had a lot to do with the changes in her. He brought out her warmth and nurtured her adventurous spirit while she brought out the best in good ol’ boy Jimmy, too. He’d shed his bad boy Casanova reputation on the island, and some people had started calling him a pillar of the community. Jimmy claimed he had more fun just being a pill.
Molly admired Sophie’s slinky, sapphire blue slip dress. One of the many things they shared was their obsession with high fashion. But where Molly had the taste for filet mignon on a Big Mac budget, Sophie actually had the bank account and the supermodel body to wear it. “And, oh my goodness, that dress. It’s new. Versace?”
“Yes. Seriously. How do you do that?”
“It’s a skill.”
“A talent. You look lovely as well.”
Molly started to wave off the compliment but winced when the slight movement caused pain to dart up her leg.
Sophie’s smile faded. “Are you still feeling poorly? I noticed your limp.”
“My pride took the brunt of the fall. I’ll be okay. Just a little bruised.”
“Duchess, tell my brother here about the cha-cha lessons you’ve been making me take. He doesn’t believe me.”
The waiter appeared by Molly’s side with a glass of champagne. She accepted it with gratitude and took a long sip.
Sophie’s eyes twinkled as she smiled at Anders. “It’s true. He’s getting on quite well too, although he got off to a dodgy start.”
“That’s because he was born with two left feet.” Anders lounged back in his chair, the light breeze from the ocean stirring his artfully messy locks. “It’s the reason he sucked at football in high school.” His devilish grin wasn’t directed at Molly but it still made her stomach flutter.
Jimmy snorted with contempt. “That wasn’t the reason.”
Sophie put a hand on Jimmy’s bicep and leaned forward to tell the story. “I made the mistake of employing a renowned dance instructor from Miami. He drove all the way to Key West to give us private lessons, but Jimmy didn’t care for his teaching methods.”
Crossing his arms, Jimmy grumbled, “That’s because pygmy Patrick Swayze wouldn’t let me lead.”
“He was merely trying to show you the proper hold for the waltz.”
Jimmy mimicked an upper-crust British accent. “‘Point your toe, James. Point your toe.’ I wanted to point it, all right. Straight up his can.”
Sophie bit back a smile. “We ended up dismissing him after two lessons and instead hired Stella Marie, the resident dance instructor for the Key Breeze Retirement Home.”
“Stella’s a doll.” Jimmy grinned. “She was a Rockette back in the sixties.”
“For real?” Anders seemed genuinely impressed.
“Yeah. And she can still part her hair with the tip of her shoe.”
Molly chuckled and glanced over at Cheyenne. She was engrossed in conversation with Sophie’s father, Mitch Thompson.
“I know an old guy who lives in Bimini,” Mitch was saying. “When he was a teenager, he and his father used to take Hemingway deep sea fishing. The guy wrote a book about it. Might be helpful.”
Cheyenne had her phone out ready to look it up. “What’s it called?”
“Can’t recall the title exactly, but the guy’s name is Emory Constantinople.”
“Found it. Old Hem: An Account of Hemingway’s Life and Times in Bimini, Cuba, and Key West, published in 1978. But, dang, it’s out of print.”
Molly smiled at Sophie’s mother, Lillian Stone who sat on the other side of Mitch trying not to look bored.
It was hard to image two less likely people being together, but according to Sophie, Mitch and Lillian had once been very much in love. Sophie’s American father looked like he just stepped out of the seventies, with his long brown hair, handlebar mustache, and bohemian rock star style, while Sophie’s beautiful, sophisticated, fair-haired British mother could have been the poster girl for high society.
Next to Lillian, Sue Martin sat with her husband Oscar. Sue waved and mouthed, “You okay?”
Molly nodded and raised her glass of champagne to her friend in thanks before taking another deep sip.
Leaning toward Sophie, Molly spoke in her ear. “Where’s your grandmother?”
“You know how Agnes feels about my mum. She passed on the rehearsal dinner but promised to be at the wedding.”
“Without the shotgun, I hope.”
“We hope.”
When the waitress went around taking their orders, Molly noticed Anders ordered the surf without the turf, while everyone else ordered steak and lobster.
Sitting across the table from someone she knew so well but didn’t really know at all was a disconcerting feeling. She knew his favorite ice cream flavor was mint chip. He preferred boxers over briefs. And he was a Taurus. Hell, she even knew he lost his virginity at sixteen. While she wasn’t a hundred percent certain he remembered her first name.
“A toast.” Oscar raised his glass and everyone followed his lead. Even Cheyenne lifted her Shirley Temple. “To two people who are such complete opposites, it’s no wonder they complete each other so perfectly.”
Anders put his hand on the back of Oscar’s neck and pulled the stocky, goateed man closer. “Just like you and me.”r />
Oscar laughed and shoved him away. “Exactly, now let me finish, boss. What I was trying to say is that not everyone is fortunate enough to find their soul mate. I think most people never do. I certainly never thought I would.” He shot Sue a tender smile. “But when it happens… Pow, the chemistry is cosmic. Jimmy, Sophie, respect each other. Cherish the gift you’ve been given. And if you must fight, fight clean and naked. Salute!”
The table chuckled and drank to the toast.
Sophie looked at Jimmy and their eyes met in a private smile. He leaned closer and kissed her lips. Molly’s heart constricted. The love in his eyes was undeniable. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would it be like to have a man look at her the way Jimmy was looking at Sophie. Oscar was right. That kind of love didn’t exist for everybody. What Sophie and Jimmy had was magical and kinda breathtaking.
“Where’s Obie tonight?” Sue turned to Anders, who was laughing with Oscar about something Molly hadn’t caught.
“With his new nanny. The agency sent her over. She was a lot younger than I expected, but she came highly recommended.”
“You want me to run a background check on her?” Mitch offered. He wasn’t a cop but he had his sources. If you wanted the skinny on someone, Mitch Thompson could have a whole dossier for you in about an hour. If you needed a fake ID or a place to lay low in Barbados, he could hook you up and then some. Sophie insisted he was only a treasure hunter, but Molly suspected he was a bit more than that.
Anders looked up from his cell phone. “Nah, that’s all right.”
Jimmy nudged his arm. “Come on. Based on the recent events in Vegas, you can’t be too careful.”
“Jimmy’s right,” Mitch said. “I’d be glad to launch my own investigation into that as well.”
“The Vegas PD is on it, but you could check out the nanny if you’d like. Her name is Greenlee Fiori.”
Molly winced and caught Cheyenne’s eye. They shared an expression of mild horror.
Jimmy spit the beer he’d just swigged and sprayed the table, catching Anders on the downdraft.