Two of a Kind

by Susan Mallery

  “What the hell?” Gideon muttered, starting toward him.

  “Stop.” She grabbed his arm. “He needs to be alone for a few minutes.”

  Gideon took off his helmet and glared at her. “Why?”

  She drew him to the other side of the plateau. “He’s crying.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m guessing.”

  He stared at her. “You’re guessing? You don’t guess.”

  “I think that’s what’s wrong.”

  “Why’s he upset?” Gideon asked. “Why now? It’s been a couple of weeks. Everything is going okay. I thought he and I had fun at the radio station. Was I wrong?”

  “No. He liked spending time with you. Maybe that’s the problem.” She felt as if she was stepping through a minefield without a map.

  “He’s been through a lot,” she continued. “Losing his mom, the foster care situation, finding you. He had no way of knowing if you’d want anything to do with him. He just showed up. That’s very brave, but also terrifying. What if you’d rejected him? What if you still might?”

  “I wouldn’t have thrown him out or anything. His home is with me.” Now he was the one to shift uncomfortably. “I know I’m not the best dad, but I’m working on getting more involved with him.”

  “I know, but he doesn’t. Give him a moment. He’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Him crying? That’s a response to socialization. If he were a thirteen-year-old girl, you’d be more understanding. As a society, we don’t like our boys to cry, but they need the emotional release just as much. It’s not unhealthy.”

  Gideon’s mouth twisted. “I meant I don’t like you being insightful. You’re already too smart. If you understand people as well as everything scientific or mathematical, how can we ever have a fair fight?”

  She smiled, feeling a little proud of herself. “You’ll always be able to best me physically.”

  “Like I’d hit a girl.”

  * * *

  FELICIA PULLED THE brownie pan from the oven. The smell of chocolate drifted throughout the house, which was enjoyable on its own, but what really pleased her was the satisfaction she received from baking. Logically, it made no sense. The creation of a brownie from disparate ingredients was the result of a chemical reaction when heat and time were applied. There was no magic. She’d performed much more complicated experiments in a lab. There, the results had had significance. Still, baking brownies was better, she thought happily, and she couldn’t begin to say why.

  She also found pleasure in knowing her way around the large, open kitchen. At first she’d been intimidated by the cupboards and drawers, not knowing what went where or what half the items were for. Gideon had admitted to hiring a decorator to furnish the house. He’d bought the bed in the master and the sofa in the media room and had left everything else to her, with instructions to keep things simple and masculine.

  The woman had taken his instructions to heart everywhere except the kitchen. While the plates were simple white squares and the appliances were stainless, the decorator had bought every kitchen gadget ever made. Felicia was still figuring out what some of them were. She was intimidated by the food processor, although the thought of using the dough hooks that had come with the passive mixer was getting more interesting by the day. She could imagine the comforting smell of baking bread on a cold, snowy winter day.

  As she put the brownie pan on the cooling rack, she wondered if she would still be living here when it was snowing. She and Gideon hadn’t discussed their future. Per their agreement, they were supposed to date and nothing more. He was teaching her how to be with a man so she could find someone normal to fall in love with. Carter had shown up and challenged all that. Now she wasn’t actually dating, but she was living with a man. She thought maybe that was instruction enough.

  But she was less sure about leaving. She liked the big house and the views of the mountains. More, she liked being around Gideon. Even when he was emotionally distant, walking the floors in the hours of darkness, she felt closer to him than she ever had to anyone else. She liked knowing he was nearby.

  Since they’d made love again, he slept with her—those few hours when he slept. Knowing he was going to be in the bed with her made her feel safe. Odd, considering she rarely felt unsafe. She supposed it was because he understood her better than most and still seemed to like her. She could be herself and know she wouldn’t be judged. She trusted him.

  She heard footsteps and turned to see Carter walking into the great room toward the kitchen. The teen had been quiet all through dinner. Her instinct had been to let him be. He would talk when he was ready. She hoped she was doing the right thing by letting him decide when or even if he wanted to talk.

  When it came to him, she was never sure she was doing the right thing. She found herself worrying about him at odd moments, which made no sense. He was obviously capable. But she couldn’t shake the feeling.

  He leaned against the counter. His face was pale and his eyes slightly red. She wondered if he’d been crying again. The thought of his emotional pain made her own heart ache.

  He pointed at the pan. “The brownies smell good.”

  “The scent of chocolate baking diffuses very nicely.”

  He flashed her a smile. “There you go again, with the funny talk.”

  She sighed. “I’m too literal, but I’m working on it.”

  “You shouldn’t change. You’re honest. You’ve been there for me.”

  Felicia wasn’t sure where “there” was, but she decided it didn’t matter. “You’ve been through a lot. I respect how you’ve handled a difficult situation. I was on my own when I was your age, and I know it’s tough. You’re here now, and I hope that makes you happy. I want us to be friends.”

  He nodded and glanced away. “I’m sorry about what happened before. On the mountain.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “I yelled at you and Gideon, and you hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Was it because you were having...a moment?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t saying the wrong thing.

  He shrugged. “I guess. I miss my mom.”

  Her mind searched for linkage and possible solutions. She ignored everything that was logical and went with what made emotional sense.

  “Are you worried that liking your dad and living here is being disloyal to her memory?”

  “And you.” He swallowed. “My dad is kind of distant. He was better over the weekend. We talked and stuff and I liked that. But you’re the glue.”

  “Oh, Carter.”

  She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him. He hung on, holding her so tight it hurt. But she didn’t complain, didn’t ask him to let go. And when his body shook and she heard the cries he tried to silence, she promised herself she would never let go. Figuratively, of course.

  After a few minutes, he straightened and drew back. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

  “I miss her,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Every day.”

  “Nothing is going to change that. Your feelings for your mother have a special place in your heart. She will always be your mother. Given the choice, I know you’d rather be home with her than adjusting to life here.” She paused, wanting to get it right. “But whatever happens, Carter, you can always come to me.”

  “Are you and Gideon going to get married?”

  An unexpected question. “No. He doesn’t want that kind of involvement.”

  “Don’t you love him?”

  Another unexpected question.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never been in love before. We’re dating. I like him very much.”

  Carter surprised her by flashing a smile. “Like I said. Honest. So what’s his problem? You’re beautiful, smart, funny and caring.”

  “Thank you. Those are lovely compliments. As for your father, he had a difficult time a few years back. I told you he wa
s held prisoner, but it was more than that. He was also tortured.”

  Carter’s smile faded. “I didn’t know that part.”

  “The conditions were horrible. When he was finally rescued, he needed time to heal. It’s not the sort of experience a man walks away from easily. He’ll always have some part of that inside him.”

  And she’d assumed the greatest challenge of her evening was going to be making brownies, she thought, putting her hand on Carter’s shoulder.

  “Your father wants you to be happy. He’s still getting used to you, but he bought those cool bikes. That’s progress. You need to give yourself time to adjust, and I think he deserves leeway, as well.”

  Carter studied her for a second. “Okay. I get what you’re saying. But for the record? If my dad doesn’t marry you, he’s an idiot.”

  * * *

  “WHAT DO YOU think?” Noelle asked.

  “You’ve done a very thorough job,” Felicia said, able to appreciate good planning when she saw it.

  Noelle had figured out several layouts for her store. She’d made cardboard “footprints” of various shelving units and cabinets, each marked with what it was supposed to represent. Round disks represented Christmas trees that would be set up. By setting them on the floor and moving them around, she was able to play with the different configurations.

  Isabel walked around, and shook her head. “You’re good. Seriously. This is impressive. You have several plans to choose from and time to make a decision. Look at you, all savvy with the retail.”

  “Thanks,” Noelle said with a laugh. “I’m down to three main concepts for the floor plan. I was hoping you’d help me pick the right one. The remodel starts on Monday, and I’m going to have to tell the contractor where the built-in units are going.”

  The future location of The Christmas Attic was nearly square. Big front windows let in light and offered plenty of room for displays. The ceiling was unusually high. Maybe eighteen or twenty feet, Felicia thought. She’d never had an innate ability to estimate distances by sight.

  “Which configuration is your favorite?” Felicia asked. “Let’s set up that one, then we’ll start at the entrance and walk our way through the store.”

  “Good idea. I’ve done that, but I’m to the point where I can’t see anything new. Bookcases over there, cabinet on the wall opposite the windows, cash register stations are here.”

  It took them a couple of minutes to get everything in place. They walked to the open door and stopped.

  “You’ll have a stack of baskets for shopping?” Felicia asked, remembering her experience at similar stores. She’d never been in a place that solely celebrated Christmas, but she’d been in craft stores and one shop in Santa Barbara that specialized in tiny figurines.

  “Right here.” Noelle pointed.

  The other woman had pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She wore a pink T-shirt and white capris. She was thinner than average and there was something about the way she moved that made Felicia think Noelle had suffered some kind of physical trauma in the past year or so. Not a car accident, she thought. That left a person bruised and battered in a different way.

  She knew that from personal experience. She’d been hit by a car when she was eighteen and on leave. She’d ended up with several broken bones and a mashed face. The plastic surgeon had worked miracles, correcting all her facial imperfections. She’d been young and healthy and had healed quickly. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Here you go,” Isabel said, pretending to hand her something. “Your basket.”

  Felicia bent her elbow, as if she were placing a handle over her forearm. “What’s first?”

  “The trees are toward the back, drawing you there. Most of the ornaments will be on them, although I’ll have boxes of some sets on shelves. I want customers to step into the store and not clog up the entrance.” She smiled. “I’m assuming I’ll have more than one shopper at a time.”

  “You will,” Felicia assured her. “Your local clientele might wait until closer to the holidays to buy but tourists will know they aren’t coming back and want to take advantage of your inventory while they’re here.”

  She and Isabel did pretend shopping. They went through the store’s layout. Felicia did her best to imagine what it would look like.

  “Your idea of having the children’s books and the teddy bear collections together is very smart,” she said. “How are parents supposed to resist either?”

  “And it keeps kids away from the breakables.” Isabel looked around. “For what it’s worth, I like that layout best.”

  “Me, too.” Noelle grinned. “Let’s take a break for a second and clear our heads. I have soda. You two want one?”

  “Sure.”

  Noelle disappeared into the storeroom, then reappeared with three cans of diet in her hands. She, Isabel and Felicia sank onto the floor and popped the tops.

  “I’m a little more encouraged than I was,” Noelle admitted when she’d taken a sip. “I was thinking my Christmas store idea was just plain idiotic. Then I started getting things ready. I swear, every day I leave that front door open, someone wanders in to see what I’m up to.”

  “This town takes an interest in its citizens,” Felicia reminded her.

  Noelle flashed a grin. “Not always a good thing. It would be a lousy place to try to sneak around.” She looked at Isabel. “Although you’re doing a good job.”

  “I’m not sneaking. I’m stealthy.”

  “Oh, like there’s a difference,” Noelle said, her voice teasing.

  Felicia started to point out there was, but then stopped. This was not the time to be defining words.

  “I’ve never been especially stealthy or sneaky,” she said instead. “I like the warmth and sense of community here.”

  “Me, too. It’s way different than Los Angeles.” Noelle glanced at Isabel. “And New York.”

  “You don’t regret your move?” Felicia asked.

  “No. It was impulsive, but I’m happy here. Making friends helps.” Noelle poked Isabel in the arm. “You’re going to find it hard to leave.”

  “I hope not.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have appreciated the chance to get away from my trouble, though. The reminders.”

  “Not missing men yet?” Noelle asked.

  “No. Not yet.”

  Felicia smiled at Noelle. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Noelle sighed. “Dating? No. I had a really bad breakup not long before I moved here. We were together three years. I kept putting off the wedding because of work and stuff, which turned out to be a good thing.” She paused as if she was going to say something else but had changed her mind.

  More secrets, Felicia thought, knowing there was no point in speculation.

  “You’re still living with Gideon,” Noelle said.

  “I am. Carter is wonderful. He’s a lot of fun to be with. The adjustment is difficult, but he’s working his way through it.”

  “You sound like a mom.”

  Felicia flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “I’m trying to be supportive and take care of him. I know that being around him has confirmed that I want to have a family of my own.”

  “With Gideon?” Isabel asked.

  “He’s made it clear he’s not interested in anything long-term.” Something she’d always known, but saying the words just now made her oddly sad. “I know Gideon’s been through a lot, but he’s less damaged than he thinks. We all have problems and flaws. I believe he feels he’s less human than the rest of us, but that’s not true. Only I don’t think he can be convinced. He has to learn to believe in himself, and I’m not sure he’s willing to take the risk.”

  Noelle stared at her. “That was an impressive assessment of him. If I’d been that clearheaded about my fiancé, I wouldn’t have stayed with him for so long.”

  “I could be wrong,” Felicia said.

  “It doesn’t sound like you are,” Isabel told her. “I’m impressed, too.”

  Noe
lle smiled. “When I first met you, I thought you were some brainiac who wouldn’t know an emotion if it bit you on the butt. I was wrong, and I’m sorry for judging you that way. You’re very warm and caring, and you really get people.” She groaned. “Oh, God. You’re perfect. Now I have to hate you.”

  Felicia laughed. “I’m not perfect and I don’t really get people. I wish I did. I’m better than I was, but I still feel awkward in unfamiliar situations and I’m not sure what to say.”

  Noelle raised her can of soda. “We can be imperfect together.”

  Just then, a tall, dark-haired woman with blue eyes walked into the store. She had on a black suit and elegant pumps with four-inch heels that were so beautiful Felicia wondered if she could ever learn to walk in such ridiculous footwear.

  “Hello,” the woman said. “I’m...” She paused and looked around. “I’m apparently lost and in the wrong place.” She frowned. “That’s repetitious, isn’t it? If I’m lost I can’t be in the right place. I need coffee and sleep and very possibly a way to kill my business partners.”

  She gave them a weary smile. “Sorry. I’m exhausted and rambling. I’m Taryn Crawford with Score.”

  “What’s Score?” Isabel asked.

  “A new business in town. Or it’s going to be. Assuming there’s no partner death in the near future.” Taryn gave a little shrug. “For the record, I’m kidding about killing him. Sort of. I wouldn’t know how to go about it. Jack is friends with Raoul Moreno who, apparently, lives here. Jack came to visit, loved the town, talked to the other partners, convinced them we had to relocate, and here the hell I am.”

  Felicia put the pieces together and remembered her recent city council meeting. “You’re with the football players.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Taryn grumbled. “What’s that expression? It’s like trying to herd cats. I was supposed to meet a real estate agent about some property. I don’t have time to be looking, but I can’t trust one of the guys with it. We’d end up with a corner in a sports bar. There are days...” She drew in a deep breath. “You know the kicker in all this? They’re great with the clients.”