Dial M for Mousse

by Laura Bradford

  “That waylaying thing? That’s a matter of perspective, Mr. Nelson.”

  His brows furrowed beneath the frame of the reading glasses he didn’t need to be wearing. “You lost me, Winnie Girl.”

  “Do you really think I bump my foot on that first step by accident? Every single time?”

  “Some women are just a little clumsier than others. There’s no shame in that.”

  It felt good to laugh. “Oh, Mr. Nelson . . . no one could be that clumsy.”

  He lowered his chin to see her but lifted it again as she reached across the seat and plucked his glasses from his face. “Are you saying you hit that stair on purpose?”

  “It makes sure you hear me, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d hear anything if I was standing at the door waiting.”

  The momentary confusion sparked by his words gave way to the kind of tears she wasn’t in a rush to hide. “Then I guess you need time with me as much as I need time with you.”

  “Winnie Girl, you’re young. What do you need with an old fool like me?”

  “Guidance, understanding, experience, love . . . need I go on?” She rested the side of her head against the seat back and tried to bring her narration in line with the memories playing out in her thoughts. “When I moved here, two years ago, I had no one. It was just me and that bakery. But you welcomed me to this town . . . to Serenity Lane . . . to our home as if I was family. You calmed my nerves on my first day of work, celebrated with me when I didn’t mess it up, willingly taste-tested every new recipe I tried, and brought me into your circle of friends without a moment’s hesitation. You mean the world to me, Mr. Nelson. I’d be lost without you.”

  He tried to shake off her words, but there was no denying the pride that grabbed hold of his demeanor and made him sit up tall. “You have fellas, Winnie Girl.”

  “If you mean Jay—time will tell. If you mean Greg—he’s my friend, yes. But you’re the puff of air that sends me on my way each morning and the warm hug that welcomes me back home each and every time I return. There’s no replacing that, Mr. Nelson. Not for me, anyway.”

  “You really mean that, Winnie Girl?”

  “I really mean that, Mr. Nelson.” She leaned across the seat and whispered a kiss across his weathered cheek. “I love you, Mr. Nelson. You are absolutely, positively necessary to me.”

  He captured her hand inside his own and squeezed it gently until the shine in his eyes disappeared. “I love you, too, Winnie Girl. More than you can ever know.”

  “Then I’m one very lucky girl.” With a quick check of her side mirror, Winnie pulled back onto the road and headed toward Serenity Lane. “So, do I still get a magic show in the near future?”

  “If you want magic, I’ll give you magic.”

  She turned right, left, and then right one more time, the sight of the Serenity Lane sign one block over akin to a cold glass of water after a day trekking through the desert. “What do you think of me making some popcorn when we get back and then hanging out on the front porch for a while? Maybe Bridget will be around and she can join us.”

  “I think that young fella would probably rather have you to himself for a little while.”

  “Young fella? What young—” She stopped as Mr. Nelson’s finger guided her attention off him, through the break in the Rickmans’ hedges, and onto the lone figure sitting on the top step of their front porch. “Jay?”

  “I don’t know what happened between you two last night, but I know he’s crazy about you, Winnie Girl. It’s written all over his face every time he so much as looks at you.”

  She took advantage of the Rickmans’ hedges and pulled the Dessert Squad alongside the curb once again. “How do you know something happened last night?”

  “I might not always be the sharpest tack in the box, but I did catch the fact that the daughter was part of the mix. And I heard the hurt in your voice.” He stroked the top of Lovey’s head but kept his attention on Winnie. “It ain’t getting any better, is it?”

  Oh, how she wished she could dispute his words with stories to the contrary, but she couldn’t. Not even close. So, rather than paint a picture that didn’t exist, she merely shook her head. “I thought maybe, after that party we had in the spring, we were poised to make some progress, but it just never happened. She said all the right things to throw Jay off the scent, but her actions haven’t matched.”

  “She’ll come around, Winnie Girl. You watch and see.”

  “You’ve been saying that since the beginning, Mr. Nelson. About her and Lovey. And neither one is showing any sign of”—she simulated air quotes with her fingers—“coming around.”

  Mr. Nelson stilled his hand midway down Lovey’s back. “Why do you think this little lady insists on accompanying you on all your rescues?”

  “I don’t know—boredom, I guess? Though really all she does is sleep in that seat the way she is on you.”

  “Something she could do at home with Ms. Ballentine.”

  “Your point being?” she prodded.

  He resumed his petting (much to Lovey’s satisfaction). “She accompanies you because she loves you.”

  Her answering snort echoed around the car, earning her a dirty look from Lovey in the process. “Love is not a word I’d use to describe her feelings for me.”

  “I would. In fact, I’d go so far as to say Lovey is well aware of the fact you’re her new owner. But she loved Gertie first and then, one day, Gertie was gone. Maybe she’s just protecting her heart, too.”

  She waited for him to continue, to fill in the blanks left by his words, but he didn’t. “Too?”

  “I’ve never been a little girl, so I can’t say for sure, but I was a little boy once. And I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have my father or my mother choose a career or a way of life over me. I suspect something like that would have scarred me pretty bad.”

  Instinctively, her gaze left the elderly man’s face and traveled back through the break in the hedges to the house they shared. She hated being a cause of tension in Jay’s life. She really did. Yes, she was crazy about him, in love with him, even, but didn’t that mean she should want what was best for him?

  “I just want him to be happy, Mr. Nelson. The way he was when I met him at the college that first day.” At the feel of Mr. Nelson’s hand on hers, she pulled her attention back into the car and onto her housemate. “I guess just because he’s my Mr. Right doesn’t mean I’m his.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Mr. Nelson smacked his free hand atop his knee and snorted back a laugh. “You said you can’t be his Mr. Right—get it?”

  Her confusion must have been written all over her face, because he continued. “You’re a woman. So you’re right, you can’t be his Mr. Right.”

  She forced herself to smile, to even laugh a little, but her heart wasn’t in it. Fortunately, Mr. Nelson didn’t seem to notice as he continued to amuse himself with his joke.

  Returning her hands to the steering wheel, she checked the side mirror and made the turn onto Serenity Lane. “I think you’re right, Mr. Nelson. I think a rain check on that popcorn might be wise. Jay and I need time to talk.”

  “Mind if I hang on to Lovey while you do?” Mr. Nelson asked. “I sure could use someone to practice my magic on before I do my show for you.”

  Jay’s head popped up as they approached the house. But thanks to the tilt of the late-afternoon sun, she couldn’t quite make out his expression.

  “Winnie Girl? Did you hear me?”

  Had she? She wasn’t sure . . .

  “Can you say it again?”

  “Can I hang on to Lovey while you talk to Jay?”

  She turned onto the driveway and rolled to a stop next to the stately pin oak tree. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jay rise and make his way down the short set of stairs to the walkway below. “Um, yeah, sure.
I’m sure she’d love to spend a little time at your place. I—I’ll come by and get her when we’re done.”

  “No rush. I enjoy the company.” Then, placing his hand atop hers on the gearshift, he squeezed. “The best things in life don’t always come the easiest. Remember that, Winnie Girl.”

  Chapter 27

  There was no denying the disappointment that emanated from Jay as she bypassed the cushion beside him to perch atop the ottoman on the opposite side of the coffee table. But she needed strength to do what needed to be done and his nearness would only make that more difficult.

  It’s like a Band-Aid—just pull . . .

  She felt her lower lip begin to tremble and steadied it between her teeth. “Jay, I think we—”

  “They say that life-changing events come equipped with souvenirs—images, sensations, even scents that linger for years after the actual moment has come and gone.” Jay leaned forward, his blue-green eyes studying her face with such intensity, she actually shivered. “And it’s true. Even now, sixteen years later, I can still hear Caroline’s first cry and feel her newborn skin against my hand.”

  “I know and that’s—”

  “Likewise, when I revisit the moment you appeared in my office doorway with that first cookie, my heart skips a beat just like it did that day. And that smile? I can still feel the edge of my desk inside my hand.”

  She tried to ignore the sudden tightness in her throat but it was there. “The edge of your desk?”

  “I grabbed it to keep from falling out of my chair.”

  “Jay, I—”

  “Don’t you see, Winnie? I can still feel that desk in my hand and that skipped beat of my heart because that very moment was one of my life-changing events. You are one of my life-changing events.”

  Blinking against the sudden burn in her eyes, she willed herself to stay on track. To yank now and cry later . . . “This isn’t going to work, Jay. Not the way it needs to in order for you . . . and me . . . to be truly happy.”

  He reared back as if struck but rebounded to close the gap between them with two long strides. When he reached the ottoman, he lowered himself to its armchair and gathered her hands inside his own. “That’s just it, Winnie. I am truly happy. With you.”

  “There’s no way that’s true.” She tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but he held tight. “Your daughter hates me. How can that make you happy?”

  “It doesn’t. Not even close. But her actions can’t change how I feel about you. They just can’t.” Releasing his hold on one of her hands, he lifted his palm level with her eyes and then closed it against his chest. “Life-changing souvenirs, Winnie. From you.”

  She felt her resolve weakening and willed it to remain firm. “Just because something is life changing doesn’t mean it’s good. Bad things are life changing, too.”

  “There’s nothing about us that’s bad, Winnie. Nothing.”

  “Okay, but I imagine you can still recall the moment you met Didi, and that didn’t work out.” The words circled around to her ears and made her cringe. “Wow. Look, I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of line.”

  “Why shouldn’t you say it? It’s fair.” He raked his free hand through his hair and then brought it back down to cover hers. “Funny thing is, I’ve actually thought about that point. Many times. And you know what? I can’t recall the moment I met her. I mean, I know where and when, but there’s no wham moment. And even when I think of the moment Caroline was born, the souvenirs are all about her . . . not her mother.

  “Don’t you see?” He lifted her hands to his chin. “This is different. Powerful.”

  “Yet, on a trip you insisted was all about your daughter, you’re having pillow fights with your ex-wife, letting her stay in your hotel room, and allowing her to feed you?” This time, when she tried to tug her hands free, he obliged. “C’mon, Jay . . . Something isn’t right here. And I, for one, don’t want to live my life in someone else’s shadow.”

  “The pillow fight Caroline mentioned wasn’t a pillow fight at all. When Caroline got in from some private shopping thing with Didi, she tossed a pillow at me. I tossed it back. That’s it. And Didi, being Didi, booked us a suite—with a room for Caroline, a room for me, and a living room in between. Didi fell asleep on Caroline’s bed one night. I was in my own room—on the other side of the suite.”

  She studied him closely, looking for any sign he was massaging the truth, but there was nothing. Still, Caroline had been so smug . . .

  “And the green-bean thing my pot-stirring daughter referenced? Didi made mention of the way I used to try and get Caroline to eat the veggies she didn’t like as a baby. Caroline, of course, decided it would be fun to use that tactic on me with the green beans room service failed to cook properly.”

  “But she made it all sound like . . .” Unable to continue, she simply stopped.

  “Like there was something there that isn’t,” he said. “And hasn’t been for sixteen-plus years.”

  Rising to her feet, she wandered over to the fireplace and the assorted pictures that graced its mantel—Mr. Nelson celebrating a particularly grueling chess game he’d won against himself, Bridget cuddling Lovey, her and Jay sitting on the porch step looking at each other with such joy she had to look away. “Caroline is sixteen, Jay.”

  “You’re right, she is.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I know what I said. And if Didi was standing here right now, she’d tell you the same thing.” Jay scooted forward on the chair but remained seated. “Within a few weeks of getting married, we knew we’d made a mistake. We were just way too different in everything from likes and dislikes, to life goals. But instead of being honest with each other and ourselves, we decided to solve the issue with a baby. All that did, of course, was hold off the inevitable a little longer.”

  “Does Caroline know this?”

  “No. And Didi and I promised each other she never would.” Pushing off the chair, Jay stood. “I believe there’s a reason for everything. The reason Didi and I got married when we were the most ill-suited people on the face of the earth was so Caroline could be born. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

  “Likewise, the only reason I placed an order for a cookie I really didn’t need back in March was so I could meet you.”

  She ran her hand along the edge of the mantel and then wiped off the dust on the side of her jeans. “So you—as head of Silver Lake College’s business department—could check out the crazy new business in town.”

  His laughter grew closer until he was within arm’s reach—a reach he used to pull her close. “I thought that was the reason. But the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew it was much, much more than that.”

  Taking advantage of the cover afforded by his chest, she permitted a single tear to fall from each eye before she stepped back. “I don’t want you being pulled between your daughter and me.”

  “Winnie, it’s only a matter of time before she sees how awesome you are.”

  “She doesn’t want to like me, Jay. Don’t you see that?”

  “Tough.”

  For the first time since she spotted him through the Rickmans’ hedges, she found herself getting angry. And while she tried to keep it in check, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it completely. “So? What? You force me on her? Make her come over here for dinner and to bake? Because, let’s be honest, that was so successful, wasn’t it?”

  “Then what do we do?” he asked as he lifted their picture off the mantel and turned it toward her. “Because this right here? It’s too special, too one of a kind to end. For any reason.”

  Her eyes drifted down to the picture, to the way he looked at her and the way she looked at him . . .

  Jay was right.

  There had to be a way.

  “Mr. Nelson says we need to give it time,” she said, her voice barely more t
han a whisper.

  The faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I always knew he was a smart man. Now I know he’s the smartest.”

  “The smartest, eh?”

  “Well, next to me, of course.”

  She smiled through the tears that no longer gave a hoot about coverage. “You?”

  “I ordered that cookie, didn’t I?” He returned the frame to the mantel and then pulled her close once again, his breath warm against her forehead. “We’ll get through this, Winnie. I promise.”

  • • •

  She held her final wave for as long as it took Jay’s car to reach the end of Serenity Lane and then backed away from the window, the emotional roller coaster that had been their time together leaving her in a pretty good place.

  Were things solved? Not necessarily. But knowing that she meant as much to Jay as Jay meant to her certainly helped. At least in the spirits department.

  The vibration of her phone against the top of the kitchen table nixed all further thoughts of Jay and replaced them, instead, with an image of her next-door neighbor, thanks to the picture app she’d found during one of her more recent sleepless nights.

  “Hi, Bridget.”

  “I know what Abby’s secret is.”

  “Are you serious?” With the help of her toe, Winnie nudged the bench back from the table and sat down. “How?”

  “I got the voice mail you left when you were on your way back to Renee’s to pick up Lovey.” Bridget let loose a few audible winces but stayed on point. “I was finishing up my column and couldn’t break my concentration.”

  “I understand.”

  “Anyway . . . ohhhh, ohhhh . . .”

  “Bridget? Are you okay?”

  “I—I’m fine, dear. My back is simply protesting the grocery bag I carried in while you and Parker were out doing whatever it is you were doing together this afternoon.”

  Uh-oh . . .

  “I thought about reaching out to you when the pain became too much, but . . . I didn’t want to interrupt your time together . . . or the bite to eat you must have stopped to have . . .”