Darn it all, she was tired of being by herself. She wanted someone to laugh with, someone to cuddle next to in bed. Sorry, Lady Gray. Someone to share the ups and downs of life. And the calories.
Speaking of calories, she had to get serious about shedding some pounds. Willie’s college graduation was right around the corner and she wanted to look her best, especially for the bash Mason was throwing after the ceremony. Now it was crunch time.
“You should’ve stuck to your diet,” she scolded herself.
As if it mattered. Willie saw her only as Mom and didn’t care what she looked like. And no matter how many pounds she lost, people would still compare her to Babette, the trophy wife. She wouldn’t come out ahead.
Her musing was interrupted by Stef, who strolled up and joined her on the lawn. “I thought I’d see how the roof is coming along,” she said. “It looks great.”
Cass nodded. “It’s a relief to have it taken care of. After this all we’ll have left is the deck.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll get back to you before he starts on it.”
“I really need him to.”
Cass didn’t miss the anxious expression that flitted across her friend’s face. “Brad still hasn’t come home?”
Stef scowled. “He’s being stubborn.”
“Maybe if you—”
Stef didn’t let her finish. “I apologized. I said I’d put everything back. I even ordered him a fancy game table for our anniversary. Of course, I never got a chance to tell him. He won’t listen. And he’s paying a fortune staying at Gerhardt’s. Here he was, getting on me for what I’m spending on putting our house back together, and look what he’s spending staying over there and pouting. He’s being completely unreasonable,” she added, her voice quavering.
“People often are when they’re hurt,” Cass said gently.
“Well, I’m hurt, too. He just walked out, Cass.”
“He’ll walk back in, I’m sure. Brad’s a good man and he loves you.”
“He doesn’t love me enough to let me get our house put back together after he left it in a mess. He says he’s not coming home until Grant’s gone.”
“Stef, maybe it’s more important to put your lives back together.”
Stef looked at her as if Cass had just suggested she cut off an ear. “I thought you’d be on my side.”
“I am. That’s why I’m trying to give you some advice. Fire Grant and bring Brad home.”
“I will. As soon as the floor is finished.”
Cass shook her head. “I hope that turns out to be a good decision.”
“If I don’t get that mess cleaned up, I’ll be checking into Gerhardt’s, too,” Stef said. “Brad will never finish it.”
“Okay.” She pointed in the direction of the roof. “Feel free to go on up there and talk to Grant.”
Stef looked warily at the ladder. “I’m afraid of heights.”
“Call him down,” Cass said. She wasn’t going to. She wasn’t going to have any part in helping Stef keep Grant and keep her husband away.
Stef walked over to the ladder and hollered up at Grant. “Can I speak to you?”
“Sure,” he called back. A moment later he’d joined Stef on the lawn.
Cass remained on the porch, determined not to participate in the conversation, but she could easily hear every word.
“I know Cass needs her roof finished, but do you think you could come and work at my place tomorrow? I really need to get the great room done,” Stef told him.
“I’m almost done here,” he told her.
“Can you take a break and come to my place? It’s not supposed to rain this week.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “I might be able to get over there tomorrow afternoon.”
She smiled. “Thank you! I’ll leave the back door unlocked.”
Cass shook her head again as she watched Stef leave. Her friend was practically skipping. As if she’d somehow solved her problem.
“What was that all about?” Grant asked.
“She and her husband aren’t remotely on the same page about their home improvement project.”
“I gathered that.”
“Did you know he moved out?”
Grant frowned. “No. That’s news to me.”
“He’s staying at Gerhardt’s. Stef seems to think that once everything’s done, he’ll have to accept it. But getting that room done isn’t the problem now. I think she wounded his pride when she brought you in, and she keeps doing things to make it worse. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she’s not listening.”
“Like my dad used to say, you can’t put an old head on young shoulders.”
“Hey, watch it with the ‘old’ remarks,” she joked. “But I do know what you mean. If I were in her shoes, I’d fire you. Stef has no idea how easy it is to lose your footing in a marriage. Once you start sliding down that slippery slope, it can be hard to climb back up.”
He regarded her, head cocked to one side.
“Yes, I know that from personal experience,” she admitted. “It was for the best that we split. We’re actually friends now, but we were never really a match. Brad and Stef, though, they’re happy together. At least they were before he started tearing up the house.”
“Home improvement isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“Neither is marriage, I guess.”
“But worth it if you can make it work.”
Obviously, Grant had. “Lucky you that you could,” Cass said. How could marriage to such a good man not work?
* * *
Back home Stef tried not to look at the mess her house had become or think of the mess her life was. She checked in with her sister, talked to her mom, lied to both, telling them everything was fine. “We love it up here.” At least she had when they’d first arrived and bought the house. They’d gotten it for a bargain. The people who’d owned it were divorcing.
Maybe the house was cursed.
“Don’t be stupid,” she told herself. She finished the family catch-up calls, then cleaned the kitchen and did a load of laundry. Went upstairs, sat on the bed and cried. Wished Brad would come home. Polished her nails and told herself Brad was a jerk. Picked up Petey from his friend’s house and did the drive-through at Herman’s, trying not to think about the fact that normally Brad would’ve been with them.
“When’s Daddy coming home?” Petey asked as he unwrapped his hamburger.
“I don’t know, honey.”
“Is he still with his friend?”
“Yes.” His friend Gerhardt. Gerhardt Geissel was an older man. He should be counseling Brad to go home.
“He likes his friend better than us,” Petey said, his lower lip jutting out.
“Now, you know that’s not true. Daddy was with you at your game yesterday.”
“I want him to come home.”
“So do I. And he will, soon.” He had to return to his senses at some point. The way he was behaving was ridiculous. And immature. And lose the tool man? Really? Then what? The fix-it fairies would show up at night and finish the house?
The more she thought about the whole situation, the angrier she got. Why should she be the one to cave? She shouldn’t. Their disaster area had needed cleaning up, and she’d only done what needed to be done to make that happen. If Brad wasn’t being such an oversize brat he’d see that.
After Petey was in bed, she loaded up on ice cream and found a movie on Netflix. Neither proved satisfying.
Chapter Seventeen
Griffin had enjoyed helping Matt with the trim on the windows, but once the afternoon got hotter, he shooed her inside. “I can take it from here. Anyway, you’re not that good at painting with
your left hand,” he’d teased.
So she’d gone in and cleaned up, then wondered if he’d like to stay for dinner again. He was at the back of the house now, up on the ladder and painting the trim on one of the bedroom windows.
“Are you interested in staying for some pizza?”
“Sure,” he called down. “Give me another couple of hours to finish and go to my bro’s to wash up.”
“You can wash up here,” she said. In my shower. Need someone to scrub your back?
What was she thinking? In fact, what was she doing? Hadn’t she only a week ago told him she didn’t want to start something? She was leaving. She wished she hadn’t opened her big mouth and invited him to stay for dinner.
Too late. She’d offered.
She’d stuff him with pizza, then send him on his way. Yes, good plan. That was what she’d do.
When he came back to the house all cleaned up and carrying a Safeway grocery bag with ice cream, hot fudge sauce, maraschino cherries and whipping cream, she knew she wasn’t going to be simply shoving pizza at him and sending him on his way. And part of her—the part completely devoid of common sense—was perfectly happy with that.
“Bring on the pizza,” he said as he walked toward the kitchen, already at home in her house.
The pizza was from Bavarian Alps, and they ate it lounging on her back porch. He took one bite and pronounced it the best pizza he’d ever had. “And I’ve had some good ones.”
She smiled and took a bite of hers.
She ate it all except the crust.
“Don’t like the crust, huh?” he asked as he helped himself to another piece.
“No, I do,” she said and took a bite to prove it.
“You sure don’t eat much,” he observed.
“I eat.”
“I think you spend more time taking pictures of your food than you do eating it.”
“I don’t want to get fat.”
“At the rate you’re going, no worries there.” His brows furrowed. “You don’t... You’re not—Never mind,” he said and took another bite of his pizza.
“I don’t have an eating disorder, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, mildly irritated.
“Hey, sorry. It’s just that you don’t seem to enjoy your food very much.”
“You know the saying. Some people eat to live, others live to eat.” She’d lived to eat once upon a time. But in the end, she hadn’t really been living, at least not happily.
“Can’t you do both?” he countered. He picked an olive off his slice, regarded it and then popped it in his mouth. “Food is like sex. It’s a gift. You should enjoy it.”
Sex. Sex with Matt Masters. Mmm.
Don’t go there, she told herself.
“Do you enjoy what you eat?”
“Of course I do! Well, I guess I don’t always get a chance to enjoy eating it. I’m too busy taking pictures of it.”
“That’s sick and wrong,” he said.
“What about you? You spend your nights cooking for other people. How often are you able to enjoy your food?”
“Every chance I get. I’m enjoying it right now. Good food, good company, that’s the best. But I think you need some help.” He stood up from the couch and held out a hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the kitchen. Time for Food Appreciation 101.”
She let him take her hand and lead her to the kitchen, where he sat her down at the kitchen table. “Watch and learn from the wise one.”
She watched as he whipped the cream, directing him where to find the beater and the sugar and vanilla. He’d purchased a high-end chocolate bar and grated that into a small mixing bowl. “It’s all in the wrist, you know.” He opened the jar of cherries and smiled at her over his shoulder. “Are you drooling yet?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Bet the food looks pretty good, too,” he joked. “Okay, now we need a bowl.”
She pointed to the cupboard where she kept the dishes.
He passed up the smaller dessert bowls and took out a serving bowl.
“I can’t eat that much,” she protested.
“Don’t worry. I’m gonna help you,” he said, then got busy building a mountain of a sundae. When he was done, it was a work of art. Chocolate-chip mint ice cream overflowing with chocolate sauce, shaved chocolate and bits of cherries, capped with whipped cream and the traditional cherry on top.
“I should get a picture before it melts,” she said.
“No, no pictures. You’ll get all sidetracked with angles and focus. Just sit there a minute and take it in.”
She did, eyeing the chocolate sauce, the whipped cream. She loved chocolate-chip mint ice cream. Her mouth began to water.
He sat down next to her, crossed his arms on the table and leaned his chin on them. “Edible art.”
“You do excellent work,” she said.
“Yes, I do. Now. Close your eyes.”
She complied.
“Open your mouth.”
She opened her mouth and he spooned in the sundae.
“Okay, this is the sundae equivalent of a wine tasting. Let it sit in your mouth. What flavors are you tasting?”
All of them! The ice cream swirled with the chocolate, melting on her tongue, rushing the intense flavor of mint over her taste buds. And there was the lighter sweetness of the cherries. And whipped cream. She’d always loved whipped cream. She hadn’t had whipped cream in ages. She was going to have an ice cream orgasm right here.
His voice was soft in her ear. “So tell me.”
She swallowed. “Everything,” she said on a sigh.
“Want more?”
She licked her lips. “Yes, please.”
In went another spoonful, just as delicious as the first.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, open your eyes. Here’s your spoon. You’re on your own.”
She opened her eyes and watched as he dug into the sundae. He put it in his mouth, closed his eyes and nodded. Swallowed. She watched the muscles in his throat work. Ice cream and sex for dessert. That would be...delicious.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Was he a mind reader?
But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he took a second bite of ice cream. “Go ahead. Have another one. I promise it won’t kill you.”
“Too much will. It’ll clog your arteries.”
“Maybe. In another twenty years. If I do nothing but eat ice cream. I’m not that worried. You shouldn’t worry when you eat. It’s bad for your digestion.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Will you?” he countered. “I know it’s none of my business. But seriously, what’s with the barely eating? Seems kind of funny for someone who takes pictures of food.”
“There’s more than one way to enjoy food. Taking pictures of it is a feast for the eyes.”
“True. But it’s kind of a waste not to follow through and eat it.”
“I’m not starving. I just...”
“Don’t want to get fat,” he finished with her. “Were you?”
She found it embarrassing to meet his gaze. “When I was a kid. The other kids made fun of me. But that was a long time ago,” she said to prove she had no baggage. No fear of people saying What a shame. She’d be so pretty if she could lose some weight.
Not that kids were ever that kind. From her peers she’d received lovely nicknames like Lard Butt and Hefty Bag. Of course, not everyone called her names. Some people simply looked at her with judgmental faces or tsked when they saw her eating a cookie. Which was why she’d found it was best to eat cookies in her room.
Then came the day she overheard her parents out on the back patio, talking. Mom was, as usual, insisting Griffin was simply large-boned.
“That’s not bone hanging over her pants, Danielle. She’s too young to be so overweight,” Dad had continued, and even from her position of eavesdropping behind the sliding screen door, she could hear the disgust in his voice. “We need to do something. She starts high school next year and I don’t want her being the fat girl. The kids already tease her—you know they do.”
“Children are cruel,” Mom had said.
Yes, they were.
“Who’s going to want her if she keeps ballooning like this? It scares me to look at her.”
Scared him to look at her? Griffin had covered her ears and run to her room, but her father’s words followed her.
She’d learned her lesson. No one will love you if you’re fat.
That summer, her parents sent her away to camp. Not just any camp, but a camp where kids with weight issues got whipped into shape.
Her father hugged her when she came home. “See how beautiful you are,” he’d said. “I’m proud of you.”
He was finally proud of her now that she wasn’t the fat girl. This was what it took to earn people’s approval. You had to control yourself. Stay away from food you loved. Food was the enemy.
Her parents pulled strings to get her enrolled in a better high school where she made new friends. Nobody knew her past and nobody called her Lard Butt. And in spite of still being shy, she began to develop a social life. And some confidence. She started dating, joined the photography club. Looked longingly at the milk shakes when she went out with her friends and ordered diet pop. But she stuck with it, and pretty soon she didn’t miss the cookies, was just as happy with a bite of cake as the whole piece.
“I can’t imagine you ever being fat,” Matt said, bringing her back to the present. “You probably got teased a lot.”
She nodded. Needless to say, she hadn’t kept in touch with any of the gang from the old neighborhood.
“I was scrawny,” Matt said. “My friends called me Weenie Wiener.”
Starting Over on Blackberry Lane--A Romance Novel Page 20