by Ivy Raine
“I’m totally in love.”
The look on Kyles’ face wasn’t what Marta would expect from a boy in love. He looked like he always did: stupid grin, beachy, blond highlights in his overgrown hair, and a slight gap in his otherwise straight front teeth.
“Again.” Marta was getting sick of hearing about one girl after another, some who wouldn’t give him the time of day. He just openly fantasized about them with Marta as his verbal dumping ground.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Love is beautiful!” He turned up his face in mock adoration and batted his lashes.
“You couldn’t love anyone if your life depended on it.”
Kyle laughed at Marta like he always did when she tried to be serious. “Don’t be mad,” he said, grabbing her hand and swinging her arm as they walked along the well-worn path in the park. “I love you, don’t I?”
Bending down, Marta grabbed a dandelion in its peak and blew the tiny, white umbrellas in Kyle’s face. “That’s not the same and you know it. We’re practically family.”
He picked a seed from Marta’s hair. “Practically.” His mood seemed to shift and he withdrew into the sullen shell he’d donned at least fifty times a week.
“If it’s that bad, just disown me. I don’t need a brother, anyway.”
Kyle shoved her hand away and ripped at the wildflowers growing along the pathway. “For someone who claims to be smart, you sure are stupid sometimes.”
Marta squealed when Stash peeked around the bathroom door.
“Spying?”
Her face flushed. “No, I wasn’t spying.” Somewhat of a fib, but it wasn’t her fault he left the bathroom door ajar. “Did you leave any hot water?”
Stash leaned in close, dripping water all over Marta. “You’re so hot the water’ll boil when it hits your skin.”
Pretending to be annoyed at his antics, Marta shoved past Stash and clipped the door to a close. She breathed in; the tiny room smacked of Stash. Why, oh why, did he have to be such a user? Marta looked in the mirror and wondered if she’d ever trust herself again.
“Not with this one,” she mumbled under the cover of running water.
Sometime during the twenty minutes Marta had locked herself in the bathroom, Stash took off. When she emerged, dressed but damp, the cottage key lay with her cell phone.
“Nice goodbye,” she grumbled, smoothing down the skirt of her summer dress. “Could’ve at least knocked on the door to let me know you were leaving.”
Marta pinched her hair in the towel to dry it out before raking her fingers through her curls.
One last pat and a quick look in the mirror was all she needed. “Good enough. It’s only a bonfire.”
Midge arrived right on time in her little, two seater. Despite its size, the Nissan zipped around through the village like it had a mind of its own and knew right where to go.
“You’ll have fun,” Midge insisted. “We do this once a summer and it’s usually pretty entertaining.”
Marta wasn’t so sure. “I just can’t see Mr. Mirelli being…fun. Seems like he’d break something if he tried to laugh.”
Midge giggled. “He’s not always uptight. It’s just that he takes the restaurant business very seriously.”
“I suppose.” Marta had college professors much like Mr. Mirelli. All business and no personality – at least not one they let out of its cage very often. “Where is this shindig, anyway?”
“Over the river and through the woods, to mother’s house we go.” Midge sang the amended, familiar tune as she merged onto the highway and headed west. “He holds it there every year. I think it’s sweet. It keeps his mom involved in his work-life.”
The little car ate up the pavement, spiriting Marta farther away from Stash. She tried not to think about what he’d be doing or who he’d be doing it with, but her imagination had a mind of its own. Between Midge’s prattle, Marta let her thoughts wander back through the last few week’s conversations, and she didn’t remember a single time where he’d mentioned friends. That could lead Marta to only one conclusion – a woman.
“You hungry?” Midge didn’t wait for an answer. “You’d better be. Mirelli goes all out for this thing. He even has the main entrees catered.”
“I could eat.” Stash took off in a hurry. He hadn’t even suggested they grab a quick bite to eat together. Marta felt her mood souring with each additional mile between them, and she began to regret her decision to come. “How long does this thing last?”
Midge tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Oh, probably until around midnight. I’ve never seen one break up before that. There’ll be karaoke, hot dogs roasted over the bonfire, sandwiches, fried chicken. You name it, it’ll be there.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll see chocolate.” Marta needed a high dose of the brown stuff – stat.
“We’ll find out shortly.” Midge made a tight right onto a two lane road that wound back into the woods for about three miles. When it opened up, they found themselves driving between pastures with cows lining both sides of the road. “Almost there.”
Another right landed them on a gravel road that led into more pasture. At the end of the road sat an enormous, white farmhouse with a rooster weather vane proudly gracing the roof.
“Here we are!” Midge eased her tin-can car between two pick-up trucks parked just off the driveway and in the grass.
Extracting herself from the car, Marta did a quick scan of the crowd to see who was there. It was mostly the girls from work along with what Marta surmised to be their families.
A quick, stiff wind grabbed at the hem of Marta’s skirt. It smelled different from the ocean wind. This wind smelled like sweet hay and summertime and reminded Marta of the farm on the outskirts of her little hometown. The intoxicating breeze blew through town three times a summer when the farmer baled his hay. It was the one smell that never failed to take her home again.
“Great. There’s Jennifer.” Under what delusion she’d been afflicted, Marta didn’t know, but the thought of Jennifer being there never crossed her mind. Maybe because bonfire, fun, and Jennifer fit like round hole and square peg.
Midge shooed her hand through the air. “Just do what I do and have as little contact as possible. Remember, we’re not at work, so at ease, soldier.”
“Easy for you to say. She doesn’t hate you quite as much as she does me.”
“Hmm.”
Marta looked at Midge. “What was that for?”
Midge shrugged. “Oh, nothing, really.” She waved to someone in the distance. “I think she’s jealous, is all. I’m pretty sure she thinks you’re eyeing up her job.”
Marta laughed in disbelief. “I should set her mind at ease with that one. I have a dream job lined up, and if everything goes as planned, I’ll be out of her hair by fall.”
“Too bad. I was getting used to you.” Midge grinned. “You need to just cut loose tonight and try to have fun. It’ll do you good.”
“Yeah.” Marta knew she was right, but it was damn hard to put Stash out of her mind. She was mad at him and wanting to be with him all at the same time.
The whine of someone attempting to karaoke pealed through the late afternoon air, and a round of laughter followed by clapping chased the ‘star’ back to hide among the scores of party-goers. Bales of soft hay were scattered around for seating and helium balloons whipped up and around all four corners of the covered pavilion. It looked and sounded like an old fashioned hoedown.
Marta breathed in. The smell of food wafting on the air flipped the ‘on’ switch in her stomach.
“I just realized that I’m hungry beyond all reason.”
“That’s the spirit!” Carving a path through the guests, Midge led Marta to the enormous buffet spread, complete with a white tablecloth and stainless steel serving trays. “If you can’t satisfy yourself here, you can’t do it anywhere.”
Scanning the ever-moving clusters of people who were hanging around waiting for the call to eat, Mart
a managed to pick out a few familiar faces.
“Oh, shit!” Midge spun around and faced Marta, pulling her hand in close to her chest and jutting her thumb toward her back. “Do you see that absolute piece of heaven back there? That’s Paige’s brother.”
Marta scanned the faces directly behind Midge and spotted the ‘culprit’ standing thirty feet away with a beer in his hand. “Do you mean the short guy with the really nice face?”
“Short! He’s at least six inches taller than me.”
Laughing, Marta patted Midge on the shoulder. “And that makes him short. Hot beyond legality, but still short.”
Midge jerked around like a thirteen year old eyeing up her first crush. “Do me a favor?” she said, trying not to stare at the object of her desire. “Go see if Paige knows where Mr. Mirelli is.”
That could only end badly. “Um. Why.”
With a quick huff and a roll of her eyes, Midge grabbed Marta’s arms. “Because you want to thank him for inviting you, of course. And then you can casually mention that you came with me, and maybe point in this direction.” Midge bit her lip in excitement. “I’ll smile and wave and Palmer’ll fall all over himself to come and talk to me.” She sighed. “In a perfect world, of course, but at least it’ll get me noticed. Say you’ll do it, sweet pea.”
“Palmer. Is that his name?” Marta took another look. “He just doesn’t look like a Palmer to me,” she mused.
“Marta!”
“Oh, okay. Should I also mention that you’re currently mentally dating Travis, or would it be best if I left that part out?”
Midge just blinked. “You know, Marta, sometime I can’t tell if you’re serious or kidding. I’ll err on the side of kidding this time.”
Marta winked. “I take it that’s a ‘no’.”
“Oh, please just get going before Paige decides to leave him alone.”
Seriously hot was an understatement when it came to Palmer. The closer she got, the more Marta understood just where Midge was coming from. As she was admiring his perfection, she didn’t notice Mr. Mirelli approaching from the opposite direction until it was too late. Shit.
“Marta! Glad you could join us.” Mr. Mirelli swooped around Palmer and got dangerously close to invading Marta’s personal space.
“Yeah. It looks like a really nice party.” Marta looked over her shoulder at Midge sitting on a bale of hay, busily tapping her fingers against her crossed arms. She took a step toward Palmer and Paige. “I came with Midge,” she said, nodding, smiling and motioning toward the compact ball of electricity getting ready to light up her seat. Completely blanking out on her lines, Marta just stood and stared between the three in an unusually awkward silence.
Palmer jumped to her rescue. “I didn’t see you here last year. Are you new?”
Marta was never so thankful for small talk in her life. “Yes, I am. I started a few weeks ago.” She looked at Palmer and nearly lost her train of thought – again. “Midge tells me you’re Paige’s brother, Palmer.”
Palmer smiled and looked past Marta toward the fairy-like wisp of a girl. “She remembered my name?”
Paige elbowed him. Hard. “Why don’t you just go say ‘hi’? She not gonna eat you for dinner, you idiot.” She shook her head and looked at Marta. “I’ve been trying for six months to get him to talk to her, but look at the big chicken. He’s shaking in his shoes. She’s the only reason he came.”
Trying his best to regain his cool, Palmer shrugged her off. “I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to bother her if she’s not interested.”
Marta couldn’t take it anymore. “Then, please, bother away. I guarantee you she won’t send you packing.”
Enlightened surprise lit up his face. “You think?”
“I know.”
Paige bit her lip to keep from laughing as Palmer took a deep breath and headed Midge’s way. She and Marta were still laughing when the forgotten man cleared his throat.
Turning around, Marta came face to face with Mr. Mirelli. “Oh…thank you. For doing all of this,” she stammered, clasping her hands in front of her.
The look on Mr. Mirelli’s face was a cross between happy and amused – amused in a wicked way.
“There’s a catch,” he said, his eyes flicking with twisted glee.
Marta drew back. Something told her she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Karaoke.”
Still waiting for the sky to tumble, Marta just stared at him. “And?”
“And you’ve got to sing something before you leave.”
Though she wasn’t the best singer in the world, Marta had made friends with the microphone in junior high chorus. “That’s it? Piece of cake.”
Mr. Mirelli clapped his hands together. “Great? What shall we sing?”
Raising a brow, Marta scanned his face, wondering where the ‘we’ stuff came from. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”
That seemed a safe bet. If he was joking, she’d have played along, and if he was serious, she’d get off with an easy song.
Mr. Mirelli’s mellow laughter rose above the party noise. “I’m vaguely familiar with that one,” he said, still smiling. “I’ve got you and two other girls to catch before they leave. If you happen to see Sheri or Donelle, tell them to come see me.”
Then the embodiment of robotic-like perfection made a quick bow before turning to greet another guest.
Marta looked at Paige. “What in the hell was that all about?”
Paige’s blonde hair blew into her eyes with a gust of warm wind. “New hire initiation,” she said, pulling the longs strands out of her face. “I got stuck doing it last year. He figures if you can get up and sing together, you’ll have that ‘team’ feeling and it’ll carry over into the restaurant. All psychology. It works, though.”
“So, basically it’s to get us to work harder.”
With ten to twelve hours under her belt five to six days a week, Marta wondered just how much more he expected her to give. She was practically a walking dead woman now.
“All in good fun,” said Paige. “At least this year we’re free of the witch.”
“I thought I saw Jennifer.” The words tumbled out before Marta could stop them.
Paige gave her a knowing look, but brushed the comment aside. “Not her. Brielle – Mr. Mirelli’s ex.”
The involuntary swivel of Marta’s head couldn’t be stopped. She stared at Mr. Mirelli’s back; she was seeing him in a slightly different light. “He had a wife?”
Grabbing a can of beer nestled down in an open bucket of ice, Paige spun around and plunked down on the nearest bale of hay. “Not wife. Girlfriend. And she was nasty. Not in the looks department. She won the lottery there. Her personality, though, weighed her down and dropped her to a two out of ten. You want one of these?” Paige held out a can of beer with ice-cold water dripping from the bottom.
Marta sat down beside Paige. “No, thanks. About this ex thing,” she said, still trying to unfog the vision of Mr. Mirelli in a relationship with a living, breathing human. “What happened?”
Paige shrugged. “She hated the restaurant. And all of us. As in, women,” she clarified. “She’d stop in the restaurant at every odd hour imaginable to try and catch him in something. All she ever ended up doing was getting in the way. She just never accepted the fact that Mr. Mirelli’s not the type to cheat. He’s too…straight.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s what I said.” Paige took a quick sip of her beer. “I’m still looking for a guy like that and she throws one away. Makes no sense.”
When Marta turned to look at Mr. Mirelli one more time, she met his eyes looking straight back at her. Marta smiled and did a quick wave before jerking her head back around. Did they turn and look at each other at the same time, or was he already burning a hole in her back? Marta hoped he didn’t suspect that she and Paige were filleting his romantic life.
“Look.” Marta nodded toward Palmer and Midg
e, knee deep in field grass and getting farther away with each step they took. “I think we’ve made a match.”
Paige let out a sigh. “Thank goodness. Now maybe I’ll get some peace.” A loud bell clanked behind them. “Better yet, maybe I’ll get something to eat. You game?”
You didn’t have to tell Marta twice. “Absolutely.”
The line had already begun to form at the head of the buffet table. Mr. Mirelli had his apron donned and tongs in hand to ceremoniously dish up the fried chicken.
Paige went first, sighing each time she added something to her Chinet plate. “So much food, so little time.”
Mr. Mirelli was about halfway down the length of the table, digging through the chicken to find each guest their ‘perfect’ piece.
“Marta?” He looked at her and clipped his tongs like a lobster claw. “Any special piece?”
Marta eyed up the chicken and then looked back at her plate, already brimming. “Thanks, but I don’t think I have room.”
Reaching over, he used the tongs to push her roll aside. “There. Now you’ve got room.”
His wide, genuine smile sent a little ripple through her. This new role of ‘human being’ as opposed to ‘boss’ made everything about him seem different, right down to the way he looked. “Well, then I guess I’ll take a thigh.” Marta felt a strange little flutter in her stomach when his left hand brushed against her own as he steadied her plate. Gotta get out of here!
“Don’t forget about our date,” he said, holding the tongs like a microphone.
Marta smiled. “Don’t forget the words to our song,” she teased back.
He nodded and gave her a quick salute before diving back into the chicken.
Paige used her elbow to motion for Marta. “Since our dates have ditched us, I say we make ourselves comfortable on the pile of hay over there.”
It didn’t take more than a quick glance around to realize that Paige was correct; Midge and Palmer were unlikely to make an appearance anytime soon.
The hay, soft and piled high, smelled like heaven. Marta sunk down into it, letting her body create the perfect divot.