Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  She chuckled, gathering her own class into a respectable line. “I’m Miss Walsh,” she told them. “I’m delighted to be your second grade teacher. Let’s go back to the classroom and get to know each other better.” Then she gave them an obvious wink. “I’ve got lots to tell you, and I brought treats.”

  The children’s cheer went up behind her as she made her way out of the gym and down the hall. She saw Garrett, ever attentive, as they passed by the office. Her chin rose a notch. He waved in greeting.

  She was calm.

  She was in control.

  She was onto him.

  Mr. Fruit and Nut must have sensed it, too, because, when their eyes met, he wore an odd expression—a combination of confusion, surprise and something else. Something she hoped was one man’s unparalleled fear at having angered a woman.

  ***

  “Hi, I’m Marianne,” a bubbly, russet-haired lady said to Cait at lunchtime when the kids were still at recess. She thrust out an enthusiastic hand and her light-brown eyes did a sweep of the classroom. Cait could tell she wasn’t one to overlook a detail.

  The resemblance was striking. Even without the benefit of hearing a last name, Cait knew an Ellis when she saw one. She took in the vision of the willowy stranger, grasped the outstretched palm and introduced herself.

  “Great classroom,” Marianne gushed. “G said your room was like a piece of artwork and, for once, he was right on target.”

  He talked about her classroom to his sister?

  “Thank you. Are you looking for Garrett, umm, G?”

  “Heck, no. I’m hiding out from him, but Sonja let me slip in. He’s forbidden me to come to the school. As if I need to listen to a word that slacker says!” She laughed so zealously it seemed she might topple over. “Big Brother’s always watching me back home. Now it’s payback time. Got any dirt on him?”

  Cait busied herself with a few pages on her desk, warming to the lively visitor but also struggling to look more indifferent than she felt. What could she say? Everything about Marianne’s brother touched a nerve, but the things most surprising to her wouldn’t be news to his sister. Mutely, she shook her head.

  “Too bad,” Marianne said. “Maybe you’ll think of something later.” She shot Cait a devilish grin. “I’ll be sure to give you my card, just in case.”

  They heard footsteps echoing down the hallway and turned expectant glances toward the door as the man in question strode into the room.

  “Cait—” Garrett said, then stopped and glowered at his sister. “How the hell did you get here? I thought I locked you in the condo. You had watercolor books, enough food for a month, seven brand new DVDs—”

  “Next time use stronger locks. Ever hear of something called a bus, G? The experience was so interesting. This nice old lady in the building next to yours explained to me all about how the red line works. First it goes to the businesses in downtown New Brighton, then it stops at Clairmont—”

  “Oh, shut up, Marianne.” He scored his fingers through his hair and exhaled very, very slowly before raising a thoughtful gaze in Cait’s direction. “This is my sister.”

  “We’ve met,” Cait replied. Seeing Garrett’s discomfort made her spirits soar. Not so suave now, was he? She awarded Marianne her most brilliant smile. Marianne sparkled in return. Two against one.

  He looked from one to the other, shifting his weight as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Time for you to go now, Sis. Don’t you have to poison red apples or cook up an eye-of-newt brew somewhere?”

  “Nope. My afternoon’s pretty open.” Marianne stood a little straighter, crossed her arms and shot him a glare.

  Cait’s decision to jump in was instantaneous. She took a step forward, pointing toward Marianne but looking at Garrett.

  “Your sister and I were just discussing…art,” she said. “I hoped to enlist her help in the development of some ideas I had.” She glanced at Marianne, raising an eyebrow in question.

  Garrett’s sister gave Cait a cheerful thumbs-up, then scoffed at the displeased figure blocking the doorway.

  “I see,” Garrett said, scowling.

  “You’re welcome to join us,” Cait said. “I was thinking of making an autumnal centerpiece for the back table. One overflowing with fresh fruit. A handful of nuts here or there would be a nice touch, too. What do you think…G?” She gave him her most mocking smile. He looked like he was going to strangle her. Then again, maybe she was second in line.

  “You told her?” he roared, his accusing glare focused on Marianne.

  “He told you?” said his sister at the same time, staring at Cait with a look of growing admiration. “Wow, you must be special. He never tells anyone.”

  Garrett’s expression fell just short of murderous. Marianne looked gleeful. Cait figured she better step back into the fray before someone got hurt.

  “No one told me anything,” she said. “I just put a few pieces together last night, that’s all.” She stole another look at Garrett, whose face became a study in un-readability, then added gently, “Everyone I know thinks they’re great baskets.”

  “Oh, they are great,” Marianne said. She swung a perceptive glance between her brother and Cait, struggling, it seemed, to suppress her natural mirth. “Don’t be too hard on him for withholding information, Cait. Big Brother here was never much into the family business.” She threw a casual arm over Cait’s shoulders and winked at her brother.

  Garrett rewarded her with a very thin smile. “It’s probably wise for you to line up allies while you can, Sis, considering you’re still in big, big trouble. Your junk’s lying all over my place and, unless you meet me in my office in ten minutes, you’d better have an arrangement with that Nice Old Lady In The Next Building ‘cause that’s where I’ll be dropping off your stuff.”

  He leaned in toward Marianne. “Catch your act later.” He was halfway out the door when he swiveled back, tempering his expression only slightly. “Good talking to you yesterday, Cait.”

  The two women waited until the sound of his footsteps had diminished to a distant set of thumps before laughing openly.

  “Poor, poor G,” Marianne said, her body wracked with giggles. “I’ve always been such a trial for him.”

  Cait downshifted to a simple smile, relieved by this latest turn of events for some reason she wasn’t prepared to analyze. “If he carries through on his threat, you can stay with me.”

  “Thanks, but G’s not as bad as he likes to appear. He’s just a little extra sensitive about our family’s company. I think he was worried I might spill the beans.”

  “Why is that?” Cait asked. “Why doesn’t he tell anyone about it? I’ll admit, I was pretty surprised by the omission.”

  “Long story.” Marianne shrugged. “I found my niche in the Ellis Corporation by doing graphics for the Nutty Fruit. I love what I do and could take on even more responsibility.” Her eyes looked wistful. “But it was never a clear path for G. Growing up as a younger brother to Jacob was difficult. Jacob’s gotten most of our dad’s attention, and he’s more involved in running the company. Jacob’s a lawyer, you know.” She paused to flick her eyes upward. “He thinks he’s pretty hot stuff. Despite this, G always adored him, trailed after him for three decades. But during the holidays this past year there was a big argument. G got more distant from our folks and he left New Haven…”

  Marianne’s gaze was lost in the colorful pattern of a spelling-vocabulary bulletin board for several long seconds. She bowed her head. “Anyway, Mom and Dad want him back home, or at least in the general vicinity. But he’s still too angry or too stubborn or something, and I’m stuck trying to be peacemaker again.”

  For a split second Cait thought she detected a trace of bitterness in her voice. But just as quickly it was gone.

  “I love both my brothers, you know, but even when we were kids I was always a little more worried about G,” Marianne said.

  “It must be hard to be caught in the middle. To try to deal with situa
tions where family members are talking to you but not to each other,” Cait said.

  “Exactly. In some ways it’s like losing someone.” She paused then looked up at Cait with startled eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. G told me you’d lost your father. I didn’t mean to put this Ellis feud in the same category as that.”

  “It’s okay,” Cait said, surprised again that Garrett had spoken about her so freely to his sister.

  Marianne seemed to sense this. She grinned. “G talked about all the new staff he’d met, but your name came up a few too many times for it to have been a coincidence. Look,” she said, laughing, “as you might’ve guessed, I’m not shy. My flight back to Philly leaves at six a.m. tomorrow, so this was my only chance to get out here and see the school. And also to meet you, Cait.” Her eyes crinkled in merriment. “Now, were you at all serious about wanting a fall centerpiece?”

  Five minutes later Marianne was out the door, pressing her business card in Cait’s hand, promising to keep in touch and to send her a special fruit and nut basket for the classroom.

  “Ciao. Call me if you need anything else,” she said, waving, “or if you ever wanna hear about the stupid things G did when he was a teen. I’ve got stories!”

  Cait grinned, pocketing the card. For a couple of lovely seconds, the imposing new financial director didn’t seem half as powerful as his little sister.

  And this knowledge gave her a few admittedly devious ideas.

  STEP 4:

  When the eggs are nice and light,

  start adding a little pinch of sugar at a time into the bowl

  while continuing to whisk.

  ~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,

  Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The afternoon smelled of heat, cookies and urgency.

  Cait’s students, dismissed an hour early for this first day, were already on their school buses or bikes headed home. They’d been pretty good, all things considered. No major accidents. No stomachaches, not even after they’d polished off the two packages of chocolate-covered Oreos she brought in as a treat.

  Spread in front of her on the table, the manila file folders stuffed with students’ learning assessments, contact information and photos called out to her like giant cards in the game of Memory. She needed to match the names and educational needs.

  She opened Jimmy’s folder, the one for the boy who held himself back from the others. His parents had gotten divorced a year ago, and he needed some serious self-esteem building. She’d just begun jotting down notes on ways to help him gain confidence when His Royal Nuttiness swept into the classroom.

  “Hi, Cait.”

  “Hello, Garrett. Or should I address you more formally now? Mr. G. Ellis? Sir? Honorable CEO?”

  He groaned. “Oh, please. Somehow I knew you’d figure it out, but I’d appreciate your not making it public. Even Ronald Jaspers doesn’t know the whole story. If he did, he might hold it against me. The usual ‘I must have had it easy because my family’s famous’ deal.” He gave her an exasperated look. “You don’t know what it’s like having your life tied to those damned baskets.”

  “That’s true. I don’t.”

  A look passed between them that was almost friendly. Conspiratorial. Cait studied him, realizing her anger had diffused a bit after having met his sister. Okay, so the guy couldn’t help his upbringing. Maybe he wasn’t trying to be the lying, game-playing bully she’d feared. She could, perhaps, give him the benefit of the doubt. Let him off the hook again. But three strikes and he’d be out. No more chances.

  He seemed to be studying her, too. Cautiously. He said, “So, you were a big hit with my sister. She talked about you all through lunch.” He fingered his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. “Thanks for tolerating the intrusion.”

  “It was no intrusion at all. I liked Marianne.”

  “Hmm.” He expelled the air as if it were something mildly distasteful.

  “I did,” she insisted. “I hope you weren’t too nasty to her. Older brothers can be a real pain.”

  “I’d like to hear you say that to your brother’s face. I bet Seth puts up with quite a lot from you, and I just wonder what he’d say if I asked him about it.”

  “Well, that’s an unlikely meeting, don’t you think?”

  Garrett only lifted an eyebrow at her, and Cait remembered too late that both he and Seth lived in New Brighton—a town with a population smaller than some extended Italian families.

  “Anyway,” he said finally, “I’m glad we could get your supplies yesterday. Anything else you need?”

  “Yes.” She looked him in the eye. “I need you to change your mind about the Harvest Hoopla. It still doesn’t make sense to me why that event was targeted. You said it was about more than just the money needed to operate it. So what is it? What’s going on behind the scenes?”

  “Look, I’m still new here. There’s a lot I don’t know.”

  “And you don’t want to rock the boat finding out.”

  “That’s not fair, Cait. The force of your conviction—and you sure are persistent on this issue—might give me reason to reconsider if the situation were different, but it’s not.”

  “Why is the situation ‘different’, as you say, this year?” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  He exhaled deeply and shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to explain. I’m sorry. Maybe you need to just let this one go.”

  It was hard to let it go. Besides her mother’s constant and enthusiastic anticipation, the children had asked her about it already that day. They’d seen the students in her previous two classes get to be the Harvest Hoopla’s official “goblins”—the lucky kids who passed out fliers to visitors, delivered messages to vendors, dashed around the site flinging goblin dust (a glitter and confetti mix) on the participants. To a seven- or eight-year-old this was unspeakably exciting. The kind of school memory that long outlasted the spelling tests and the math homework.

  “Just give me one explanation, Garrett. Even a partial one. Just one good reason.”

  He wrinkled his nose and pulled up a kiddie chair next to her. It looked funny—his long legs nearly reaching his chest while he tried to sit in the tiny chair. She suppressed a giggle.

  “There’s something I’m working to figure out and, to do it, I needed to give your goofy autumn festival the ax. In the end, it may make no difference at all but, to the best of my knowledge, this method has the greatest potential to lead me to what I’m looking for. So, please, accept my apology and try to move on.”

  She swallowed hard. Too many pieces were still missing, but he’d done as she’d asked. He’d given her a partial explanation, even if it didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

  “Just tell me this one last thing,” she said. “You don’t have any underhanded reasons for doing this, do you? Some secretive connection to the school board? Or a conflict of interest somewhere?”

  He shook his head.

  She paused and thought of Mrs. McAllister getting to keep her Open House Parents’ Coffee. “And this isn’t some game of privilege, is it? A situation where the big people in positions of power get what they want and the ordinary little teachers don’t?”

  He shook his head again.

  “And you’re not just agreeing with me now to get me to fall into line and be a team player, are you?”

  “How much longer is this ‘one last thing’ line of questioning gonna last?”

  She stared at him, unsmiling.

  He sighed. “Cait, I know this must be frustrating for you. I’m not trying to make it more difficult, and that’s the truth.”

  Cait sighed, too. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to relent. But it didn’t seem as though any argument would change his mind. She shut her eyes and swallowed again.

  “Well, I suppose—” she began.

  Loud voices in the hall interrupted her. A woman’s champagne-bubbly laugh. A raucous male reply. She and Ga
rrett turned their heads in the direction of the doorway as Ronald Jaspers shuffled through it.

  “Ellis, there you are. Got someone here who’s anxious to talk to you.” The principal beamed at him. “Oh, and, uh, hi, Cait,” he said, friendly, but clearly as an afterthought.

  Cait squinted up at Garrett as he began to stand, the long legs unfurling from the chair.

  “So, Ellis, the school board members came here special to greet you.” Ronald gazed out into the hallway and put on another fat smile. “Just one more minute,” he called to some impatient person out in the hall. “I’m getting him.”

  While Ronald’s attention was still directed outside the room, Garrett cocked his head to one side and listened to the voices. Cait watched him. After only a moment, he blanched at the sound, looking as guilty as a Vegas card shark in Omaha.

  What now? He shot her an imploring—almost disbelieving—look, which she didn’t understand.

  Meanwhile, the champagne-voiced lady had moved closer. Cait rose from her chair. The vocal tone was distinct, identifiable in seconds. Cait grimaced. Clicking heels tortured the tiles. A familiar menace breezed into the room.

  “Ah, Mrs. McAllister—” Ronald began, no doubt preparing to pull out some ever-ready flattery suitable to the occasion. But the woman waltzed past him with her long legs, stilettos and a daring cerulean mini. She glided into the center of Cait’s classroom and struck a pose.

  “Garrett, darling, you look so good,” she drawled, flicking her flaming red curls off her navy blouse, achieving the effect of a comet streaking the night sky. “How charming to see you again after all this time.” She blew him a hot kiss.

  No connection to the school board, eh? She watched Garrett’s eyes widen. Cait narrowed hers. She didn’t buy his innocent act this time, though. He might feign surprise, but he had to have known that woman was a board member. He was a liar, liar, liar. Just like Fredric.