The Opposite of Wild

by Kylie Gilmore

  His lips twitched. “You’re like a librarian just waiting to let loose.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She bristled, hands on her hips.

  “There it is.” He smiled and stepped close, crowding her space. She drew in a quick breath, but held her ground. “The puzzle—fire and ice.”

  She put both hands on his solid chest and pushed him out the door. “Next time, mail it.” She shut the door in his face, turned and leaned against it. “Urgh!”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said through the door.

  She ripped open the door. “Go away.”

  His head cocked to the side while he bit back a smile. “Is that any way to talk to your employer?”

  “Gah!” She slammed the door and locked it. She heard his low laugh as he walked away.

  ~ ~ ~

  Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill had an unusually busy Saturday night dinner rush, with an overflowing bar area, as well as a line out the front door. Liz had stopped by to check on Daisy on her second night of her new hostess job.

  She worked her way through the mass of people in the front entryway to get to her sister. “What’s with all these people?” she asked.

  “I’d like to say that business is booming,” Daisy replied, “but I think the good people of Clover Park came out to see this.” She indicated her baby bump, more of a bulge, really, as she sat on a stool behind the hostess stand.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s not that,” Liz said.

  “Party of two,” Mr. Cox, their former soccer coach, said.

  “Got it,” Daisy said.

  Liz smiled at him.

  Mr. Cox peeked at Daisy’s stomach before returning to his wife.

  Daisy gestured for Liz to come closer. “See?” she hissed. “All these people are talking about me. They had to see for themselves the screwed-up Garner girl. They’re probably taking bets on who the father is. I’m quitting. I’m not a sideshow.”

  “Daisy, no, I’m sure that’s not what it is. It’s probably just the summer rush. And Dad did add some new items to the menu.”

  “Can someone take our name down?” Mrs. Peters, their first-grade teacher, asked, pulling her bifocals down and peering around the hostess stand.

  “We got it, Mrs. Peters,” Liz said, dutifully writing her name on the list.

  Daisy eased herself off the cushioned stool. “You might as well take over, Liz. You’ll do a much better job than me anyway.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Liz said in her best no-nonsense teacher voice. “You need a job, you have a job. And you’re going to keep it. I’m working too, but I can’t do everything.”

  Daisy frowned, and her eyes filled with tears. “I know. I’m sorry, sis. I’m being selfish.”

  Liz sighed. She was still getting used to this new weepy Daisy. She’d never seen her cry so much in her life.

  “Chin up,” she told Daisy. “If anyone says anything nasty to you, tell me. But I really do think people are here for the food and the company. Okay?” She hugged her sister.

  Daisy nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to grab something quick at the bar.” Liz headed over to the long, dark cherry bar where their regular bartender, Josh, was serving up drinks and the occasional appetizer. A wooden sign with a beach scene above the bar read: Garner’s Paradise: It’s Always Happy Hour Here. She’d given it to her parents for their last anniversary, and it made her smile every time she saw it. They had the kind of marriage she hoped for—thirty-five years of happily living and working together, a true partnership.

  “Could you put in an order for some lettuce wraps?” she asked.

  “You got it,” Josh answered, punching in the order on the computer. “Drink?”

  “Just a seltzer.”

  She sipped her drink while she waited, listening for any Daisy gossip. The bar was mostly filled with college students back home on break and some guys watching the Sox game on one of the two TVs. She spotted Travis O’Hare at the other end of the bar, staring at his beer. He resembled Ryan—same caramel brown hair and hazel eyes, but he was lean and sinewy while Ryan was taller and solid, filled out with muscle. She scanned the crowd near him, but didn’t see Ryan. Relieved, she returned to her seltzer.

  Her lettuce wraps arrived, and she took her time savoring the three wraps of southwestern-style chicken, corn, and tomato. She entered her meal into MyFoodBuddy and headed back to the kitchen to see if her parents needed help.

  The kitchen was controlled chaos as her father barked out orders and her mother worked as sous chef preparing salads and plating desserts. Three cooks worked frantically to keep up with the incoming orders. She waved to her dad and went to her mom’s side; she was slicing some chocolate cake and setting the slices on dessert plates.

  “How’s it going, Mom?” she asked. Her mother had long, blond hair and smooth skin—she’d been religious about sunscreen—looking much younger than her fifty-seven years. It gave Liz hope for herself as she aged.

  Her mother looked up. “Liz! Could you grab the whipped cream from the fridge?”

  Liz retrieved the whipped cream and handed it to her mother. “How’s it working out with Daisy?”

  Her mother artfully fashioned three spirals of whipped cream next to a chocolate cake slice. “She’s fine. You girls practically grew up here, so I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Her usually sunny mother let out a sigh. She finished the whipped cream and announced, “I’m on break. Rose, step in here.”

  Grabbing Liz’s arm, she steered her out the back door. It was a warm June night, and the sun lingered in the sky.

  “Everything okay, Mom?”

  “We need to find out who the father is.” Her mother spoke in a low tone for privacy. “It’s just not right not having him in the picture. At the very least he could send child support.”

  “I agree, but Daisy says he doesn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

  Her mother eyed her. “And you believe her? No, she’s being cagey about it. Won’t give me a name.” She threw her hands up. “All she’ll say is he’s on that baseball team.”

  “The Norwalk Tigers.”

  “I’m thinking of hiring a private investigator. We’ve got one right here in town. It’ll all be very discreet.”

  Ryan. “No, Mom! I’ll handle it, I promise. I’m going to go home right now and research the team.”

  Her mother’s lips tightened while she thought it over. “Okay, see what you can find. Then try to pin her down. You’re living with her. You should be able to get something out of her.”

  “I will.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and headed to her car. The last thing she wanted was Ryan snooping around in her sister’s business; bad enough she had to deal with him through Maggie.

  When she got home, she opened up her laptop and Googled the Norwalk Tigers. Twenty-six players on the roster. She clicked through, one by one, reading their bios and stats, looking at their pictures. She wondered if her nephew would be half Latino. That would be cool. She just needed a name from Daisy, and she’d take care of the rest. Maybe he could have a relationship with his son. Her nephew deserved the best she could give him.

  Now she just had to figure out how to get the info from Daisy without upsetting her. A lot of stress on the mother wasn’t good for the baby. She had to wait for the perfect moment. Lord, she hoped she didn’t have to wait long. The last thing she needed was to have her mom hire Ryan.

  She was beginning to think he enjoyed rattling her.

  Infuriating man.

  Chapter Seven

  Liz and Daisy sat at the doctor’s office Monday morning in a waiting room filled with other pregnant women, many of them with their husbands. It was glaringly obvious what Daisy was missing. This could be the perfect moment she’d been waiting for. She glanced at her sister, who was flipping through a travel magazine. Daisy’s cheeks were rosy, and her hair seemed extra glossy. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great!” Dai
sy stopped to admire a gorgeous spread on some tropical island.

  “Pregnancy suits you,” Liz said.

  Daisy looked up. “Who knew? So far, so good.” She lowered her voice. “I’m just afraid of the end. You know, big baby head, small space.”

  Liz cringed at the thought. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  Tears sprang to Daisy’s eyes. “You’re the best sister. Ever.” She put an arm around Liz and hugged her sideways from her chair.

  Liz decided this was as good a moment as she’d ever get. “I looked at the Norwalk Tigers roster online. Which one was it?”

  Daisy removed her arm from Liz’s shoulders and pulled the magazine in front of her face.

  “Can you just tell me what position he played?”

  Daisy turned a page with a snap.

  Liz pressed on. “You should at least consider contacting the guy for child support.”

  Daisy slapped the magazine down in her lap. “I think I told you before that this is none of your business,” she hissed. “I’m handling it, and I don’t need you sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “I’m just trying to do what’s right for the baby,” Liz said. She put a hand on Daisy’s arm. “And you.”

  Daisy shook her off. “Well, don’t!” Her voice carried across the waiting room.

  A few women looked over, and Liz put a hand up with a smile that said, No problem, go back to your pregnant lives.

  Liz turned to her sister. “Why don’t you want the father to help?”

  Daisy’s cheeks flushed with anger. “Because I don’t need his help! Now butt out!”

  “Daisy Garner,” the nurse called.

  “Here!” Daisy pushed up from her seat.

  Liz followed behind feeling guilty, knowing she’d pushed Daisy too far.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day Liz drove Maggie to her knitting group in a meeting room at the Clover Park Library. At least she knew Ryan wouldn’t need to show up here. Maggie couldn’t get into too much trouble knitting. The man was so unnerving. She still didn’t know what he’d meant about her being fire and ice. She’d been thinking about it for days. She was neither of those things. And she certainly wasn’t uptight. That still pissed her off. She could have fun and “let loose” as he said. She danced quite freely in her apartment, didn’t she? And she always had fun hanging out with her friends.

  She pulled into the parking lot. Why am I obsessing over this? I don’t have to prove anything to him.

  Maggie carried a huge tote bag along with her purse into the library meeting room. Her sweater must really be getting big.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Maggie said to the three women already gathered there. “This is Liz. She just learned to knit.”

  Liz smiled and waved. The women were all close to Maggie’s age.

  “This is Shirley, Barbara, and Pat,” Maggie said, taking a seat at the long table.

  “Nice to meet you.” Liz pulled out her scarf, which was getting longer and, puzzlingly, wider. It seemed she had to knit a lot more now to finish a row.

  “Would you look at that!” Maggie exclaimed. “Liz, you’ve made progress.”

  “Thanks,” Liz said modestly.

  Just then, an Amazon woman with pinched lips and a white crew cut arrived with a much shorter, plump woman wearing her gray hair in a bun.

  “Oh, good, we’re all here,” Maggie said. “Diane, Pam, meet Liz. She’s only been knitting a few days.”

  “Well, isn’t that interesting,” pinchy-lipped Diane intoned as she took a seat next to Liz.

  “Very nice,” Pam said, bobbing her head with approval, her gray bun already slipping from its knot. She had enough sweetness to take the sting out of Diane’s sour.

  “Thanks,” Liz said, picking up her knitting. The other women pulled out their projects, and a few minutes were spent exclaiming over everyone’s progress since the previous week. There was a poncho, a complicated multicolored blanket, a cardigan, a pair of striped socks, and an adorable baby sweater for Pam’s new granddaughter.

  “Awww…” Liz said. She decided her next project would be a sweater for her nephew. She worked with renewed enthusiasm on her scarf.

  “I heard your sister got herself in the family way,” Diane said, looking down her nose at Liz. “How nice for your family,” she added with all the sincerity of the devil himself.

  Liz narrowed her eyes. “It is nice. Thank you.”

  “Watch yourself, Diane,” Maggie warned.

  The room fell into an uneasy silence, and there was just the click clack of needles working back and forth. Liz was just starting to relax again when Maggie asked, “Who’d like a drink?” She pulled a bottle of white wine out of her giant tote bag along with a stack of plastic cups.

  “Maggie, it’s ten a.m., and this is a public place,” Diane said, lips pinched so tight they were white.

  Maggie ignored this and began pouring cups of wine. She handed one to Liz.

  “I’d better not, Maggie,” Liz said. “I’m driving us home.”

  The other ladies looked nervously at each other.

  “It is against the rules,” Pam said softly. “We’re not supposed to have food and drinks in here. Miss Smith could kick us out.” She glanced nervously at the door. Miss Smith had been librarian so long some people thought she came along with the building back in 1896. No one was quite sure of her age, but she was eagle-eyed—thanks to both reading and prescription glasses—and her hearing rivaled only dogs’.

  “So let her try!” Maggie said, raising her glass in a defiant toast. “We all pay taxes to this fine institution. Please, help yourself, ladies.” Maggie indicated the cups of wine.

  Nobody moved.

  Liz and the rest of the ladies went back to their knitting. Maggie alternated knitting and drinking. The conversation turned to the Clover Park Women’s Club charity dinner and whether or not they should have paper or linen napkins.

  “Who cares?” Maggie barked. “Get the paper napkins to save money.”

  “But we have environmental concerns too,” Barbara said. “That’s what we’re trying to balance.”

  “New topic!” Maggie declared. “Should our next Ladies’ Night Out include strippers? Discuss!”

  The ladies’ mouths opened in shock.

  Miss Smith poked her head in the room, her beady eyes glaring through cat’s-eye glasses. “Ladies! Please keep it down in here.” She eyed the plastic cups. “This is your first warning. Food and drinks are prohibited in the library. Please either remove them or remove yourselves to another location.”

  “Oh, hold on to your skirt, Gretchen,” Maggie said.

  “Maggie O’Hare!” Miss Smith shook her finger. “This is your second warning! Quiet down or else!”

  “I’ll take care of it, Miss Smith,” Liz said.

  Miss Smith huffed. “Thank you, Liz.” The woman gave them all one final look of warning and left the room.

  Maggie grinned. “I say yes to strippers.” She finished her wine and took another.

  Liz leaped up and quietly shut the meeting room door. She returned to the table and stared at the remaining five cups of wine. Should she take them away from Maggie? Drink them herself? She didn’t want to embarrass her—

  “Yoo-hoo!” Maggie called, pushing open the window. “We could use some men in here!”

  Liz leaped out of her seat. Maggie turned, a huge goofy smile on her face.

  “Maybe we should go,” Liz said, taking the older woman’s arm. “You don’t seem to be much in the mood for knitting today.”

  “You’re right,” Maggie said, grabbing her knitting and stuffing it in her bag. “I quit! And you ladies need to get a life!”

  A collective gasp went through the room.

  “I never!” Diane exclaimed, her hand on her heart.

  “Well, you should!” Maggie declared with gusto before making a grand exit, nearly knocking over Miss Smith, who was rushing back in. She’d probably
parked herself right outside the door, just in case.

  “We’re leaving, Miss Smith.” Liz quickly gathered her things and followed in Maggie’s wake. “Nice meeting you all,” she called over her shoulder to the shocked group.

  “Nice meeting you too,” Pam called. “Take care.”

  “You ladies will also have to leave,” Miss Smith announced. “Drinking in the library is strictly prohibited.”

  “I wasn’t drinking!” someone exclaimed in outrage.

  “You were an accessory to drinking. I won’t let the Clover Park Library turn into party central.”

  Oh, geez. Maggie got them all kicked out.

  Maggie was moving with great purpose and speed toward the convertible. Liz hurried to get there first, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  Maggie shook her finger at Liz. “Life’s too short to be sitting in a library,” she said, slurring her words, “arguing over stinking napkins.”

  Liz nodded, though she thought it had been a very nice group of women. Except for Diane. She refrained from commenting on the insult Maggie had hurled at her friends. Or the fact that they’d all been kicked out. Wine could have a strange effect on people. She started the car, and Maggie punched the button to lower the roof.

  As soon as the roof was down, Maggie lifted her arms into the wind. “Be free!” she hollered. Liz caught a glimpse of a cream ball out of the corner of her eye.

  She glanced back and saw the yarn bounce into the back seat. She’d untangle it later. As she drove Maggie home, Liz’s thoughts circled around what, if anything, she should do about Maggie. She wondered if this was the sort of problem she should call Ryan about. She quickly decided against it, not just because she wanted to avoid him. There simply wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

  She wondered if the whole town would be gossiping about Maggie and her drunken tirade, for it would be a tirade by the time Diane worked her way through the gossips. She wondered if she should search Maggie’s house and hide all the alcohol or if it was a one-time thing.

  By the time she pulled into Maggie’s driveway, she decided to just talk to her openly and honestly to figure out what to do next. She looked over. Maggie was snoring.