Plum Girl (Romance)
Page 34
And despite how much she hated Gary, Georgette still loved men. In fact, they were practically all she talked about. Unlike Billy's sister, Corryn, who'd pretty much shunned the opposite sex since her divorce, Georgette was constantly on the prowl, claiming that fifty-two was her true sexual peak, and describing in detail how much she longed for a young stud to ease the tension.
Just then Des Aggerdeen came trotting in, his shaggy hair flopped over his face and his guitar slung over his shoulder. "Hey," he said, smiling at Billy with sleepy eyes.
"Hi, what's up?"
"Man, I so don't feel like being here today." Des groaned as he folded his lanky body into the chair beside her. "The band was practicing late last night, and now I just wanna crash." Another irony about Des: He had a "Kill Your Television" sticker on his guitar case, and a vocal disdain for pop culture in general, even though his grunge-rock band, The Sophists, exemplified exactly that.
"You should come see us play sometime," he said, looking at Billy. "It would be awesome to have someone in the crowd who totally feels the struggle." She suppressed a grin; she had a feeling "crowd" might be stretching it. But it was endearing the way Des took a special liking to her. Convinced they shared some kind of artistic connection, Des often referred to Billy and himself as "creative vessels." Of course, it embarrassed her a little, too, because she wasn't in the habit of elevating herself like that—especially not out loud.
"When is this damn meeting gettin' going already," Georgette groused for the second time, and reached for a chocolate croissant.
"Bureaucratic bullshit," Des remarked, again looking at Billy. "Sometimes I just want to hop in an old 'sixty-nine Chevy—just the shirt on my back—and head for the coast. Just ride the wind, you know?"
"Oh, Des, give it up," Melissa called out as she returned from the back. She carried a fresh coffee in a pink cup with Bella Donna scrawled across it in black cursive, and the notebook that Donna always used to conduct the morning meetings. "Okay, this will be a quick one," Melissa said as she set her stuff down.
"What do you mean?" Georgette interrupted. "Where's Donna?"
"Actually, I'm running the morning meetings now," Melissa explained. "I've been promoted to assistant manager." She paused to sip from her cup, ignoring the luscious array of pastries right below her, which she always did. In fact, Billy rarely saw her ingest anything other than black coffee.
There were varied reactions to the news of Melissa's promotion: Katie smiled and said, "Congrats"; Des nodded, his expression blank; and Georgette bugged out her eyes, flared her nostrils, and balled her fists until her knuckles turned white.
While everyone went over last-minute details for the upcoming jubilee, Billy ate the rest of her muffin, not sure why she'd bothered to cut it in half in the first place. Then Melissa asked her how the sheet cakes were coming, and Billy exaggerated, saying that everything was right on schedule. In addition to the extensive dessert menu, Churchill's Jubilee Planning Committee, which had hired Bella Donna for the event, wanted three sixty-inch sheet cakes presented at the end of the night. Billy was decorating each with a waterfront theme, using some Churchill postcards as a guide. Unfortunately she was still behind on her work, because when it came to drawing, crippling perfectionism sometimes slowed her down.
"And, everyone, remember to wash and iron your uniform for this weekend," Melissa added, referring to the catering outfit, which was just a twist on the old penguin suit: white shirt, black pants, and a dorky pink bow tie. "Okay, does that wrap up jubilee business?"
Des raised his hand. "I just want to go on record that even though I'm working at this thing, I totally don't respect these elaborate spectacles of obscene self-indulgence. It's like nobody keeps it honest anymore, you know?" He slid his gaze to Billy, and did a fist pump to his chest on the word "honest."
Agreeably, Billy nodded, while Melissa rolled her eyes. "Annnyway... I guess the only things left to go over are some changes to our daily menu." Georgette straightened in her chair, on alert—or maybe on attack—as Melissa explained, "Donna and I were thinking that we should make Bella Donna's menu a little hotter, a little trendier. You know, more like something you'd see in New York."
Curling her powdered-sugared lips, Georgette bared her teeth and asked why.
"Obviously it'll draw in a lot more business," Melissa explained with a shrug. "And we'll attract more of the lunchtime crowd if we add some interesting sandwiches." Georgette sighed and fidgeted loudly in her chair, until finally Melissa said, "Do you have a problem with that, Georgette?"
"Yeah," she replied haughtily. "I don't see why we gotta keep changin' stuff. Things seem fine the way they are, if ya ask me."
"Mmm-hmm, well, let's just try it my way, okay?" Melissa said, smiling almost saccharinely at her. Then she addressed everyone. "Starting today, I'm putting up a sandwich suggestion box. Customers can drop in requests for items they'd like to see on our menu, and then Donna and I will go through them and choose which ones sound good." Billy reserved comment; surely Melissa hadn't intended it as a power play, but that didn't mean Georgette wouldn't blow up.
After a few final points, the meeting faded to a close. Mrs. Tailor left, because she'd come in only for the meeting, and Melissa headed to the back to return Donna's notebook. As she went, Georgette muttered something under her breath—something along the lines of "Eat shit." Very luckily, Melissa didn't hear.
Billy started straightening the tables and chairs, getting ready to open the store, and Katie said, "I'll put on some music."
"Oh, damn," Des said, hitting his hand on his thigh, "I forgot to bring in my band's new demo CD."
"Yeah, darn," Georgette said sarcastically as she swiped up one last Danish and stuck it in her front apron pocket.
Billy suppressed a grin, and Katie asked, "Musical requests, anyone?"
Georgette grumbled, "How about 'Back on the Chain Gang,' " and stomped into the back.
Chapter 2
Seth turned the lock to his mother's house and shoved the heavy front door open with his shoulder. Once he hauled his bags inside, he dropped them on the floor, and immediately felt overwhelmed by the familiar feeling of home.
It was the spacious beach house he'd grown up in, right on the Massachusetts coast. How long had it been since he'd been home? He'd flown back for Christmas two years ago, but he'd been able to stay only the day, and then had to fly right back.
Now he was back to fix up the house and put it up for sale. It was a favor to his mom, who was staying in Dublin longer than she'd planned, taking care of her older sister, Melanie. Seth's dad had died ten years earlier, and his older brother, Ian, lived in Alaska with his wife, so Seth was the only one who could come, but honestly, he was grateful for the excuse to take a few weeks off. Owning a consulting firm took up most of his time and attention and, in fact, most of his life.
Seth walked through the foyer, feeling the emptiness of the house, but it had a different kind of quality than the emptiness of his studio apartment in Seattle. It was peaceful and calm. He could feel the golden insulation of autumn and faintly hear the shifting waves of the ocean that stretched behind the house.
He followed the hallway to the airy, Spanish-style kitchen, which was flooded with light from the bay window and the sliding glass doors that led to the back deck. Sighing, he walked closer to the window and looked past the backyard and out to the water. It didn't take long for the tranquility to get to him, making him feel almost antsy—like he needed to do something productive. Maybe he could call Lucas, his VP, to see how things were going at the office. But he really didn't feel like doing it. He knew Lucas could handle whatever came up; he seemed to love the company almost as much as Seth did. Besides, Seth hadn't taken a real vacation in two years, and if he called the office now, it would be like admitting defeat.
His mother had mentioned some repairs on the house that she wanted done; he supposed he could start on those, but he wasn't that motivated. Yet he couldn't just relax and do
nothing... could he?
The doorbell rang.
Seth crossed back through the hall, swung the door open, and found his mom's best friend, Sally Sugarton, standing on the other side. A smile broke across his face. "Hi! How are you?" he asked, reaching out to hug her. Sally was a petite woman around sixty, with silvery blond hair, elegant gold-rimmed glasses, and a penchant for pantsuits. There was something about her that always reminded him of his mom, and right now he supposed that made her feel closer than Dublin. Because Seth was six-two, he had to bend a little as he embraced Sally's delicate frame tightly but tenderly.
"Oh, your mom told me you'd be here. It's so wonderful to see you!" she said excitedly. Pulling back, she clapped her hands, which were slim, manicured, and still weighted down by an emerald bauble that Seth could trace back to his childhood. "You know, she is so proud of you. Of course, it's nice to know you haven't forgotten little old us. Now let me look at you," she said, and gave him a quick once-over. "Clean shaven, handsome, still blond, no gray yet."
"I'm only thirty-one," he said with a laugh... though he supposed it wasn't inconceivable that work stress might give him gray before his time.
"So how long will you be in town?" she asked, leading the way down the hall and hooking the first right into the family room. Seth followed, but didn't bother trying to keep up with Sally, who flitted almost as fast as she talked.
"I'm not sure how long," he said. "There's some fixing up I want to do here—"
"Oh, good, the cleaning woman's been doing a good job," Sally said, inspecting the coffee table for dust. Next she crossed the room and checked the mantel of the heavy stone fireplace. "I was afraid that with the messy divorce Susannah's been going through, she might be slacking off on the job. Especially after her husband's private investigator snapped photos of her and Jay Millis carrying on behind the fromagerie."
Screwing up his face, Seth asked, "How do you know all this?"
"What do you mean?" Sally said, confused.
"Skip it," he said, grinning. Of course she knew; Sally had always fallen somewhere between social butterfly and prying buttinski.
"But anyway, about your visit..." she said. "It's so nice how reliable you are, Seth. I mean, how many people do you know that you can truly count on when you need a favor? How many men are so solid and dependable? How many truly understand that helping others is what it's all about?"
"I take it you want something," Seth said.
"Well..."
Jill Winters is a summa cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa graduate of Boston College, whose expert knowledge of bad bosses and ridiculous temp jobs assisted in the writing of this book. She has published five novels with Penguin Group, which have been featured on Barnes & Noble's Bestseller Lists and Booksense's Top Ten. Plum Girl was a finalist for the Dorothy Parker Award of Excellence.
Currently, Jill is hard at work on a new mystery series. The first book in the series, The Unprintable Big Clock Chronicle, has just been released! To contact Jill, please visit http://www.jillwinters.com/, or follow her updates on Facebook and Twitter.
Table of Contents
Cover
A Note from Jill Winters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Excerpt from RASPBERRY CRUSH by Jill Winters
Meet Jill Winters