"Uh-oh." Maisy hiccupped. "I think I'm soused, Norman."
"Yeah, big time, I'm afraid," Norman said. "Here, you better put your head between your knees, just in case, until Agatha gets back with that coffee." Eagerly obliging, Maisy slumped like a rag-doll into position, with her arms dangling, and Norman couldn't help laughing at the sight.
"Noooormaaaan?" Maisy called out from between her legs in a singsong voice.
"Yes, sweetie, I'm right here." He patted her back gently.
"Where's the oompah band?"
"The what?"
"The oompah band," Maisy said--her head still between her knees. "I feel like singing."
Norman threw his hands into the air and heaved a shrug. "Not here, honey. Wait till we get to the car and I promise, you can sing all the way back to Persimmon."
The bell on the front door jangled and Norman turned to see an attractive, slender young, redhead enter the establishment. The redhead looked curiously at Norman and the woman on the steps with her head between her knees before walking across the floor and heading to the back room where Agatha had gone.
"That face. I know that face." In wide-eyed recognition, Norman sat bolt upright. "Oh God, no. Tell me this isn't happening," he mumbled under his breath. Looking down at Maisy, he cringed. "Maisy, honey, come on, get up. We've got to get out of here." He tugged, but Maisy felt like dead weight. "Shit." Norman looked skyward. "God," he said, "don't you do this to me."
"Roll out the barrel. Boom!" Maisy sang out exuberantly."Shhh, shhh, shhh," Norman said, wincing as he lifted Maisy's head and covered her mouth with his hand. "Maisy, come on. You've got to cooperate so I can get you out of here before Sharon gets back in here and recognizes you."
"So we can go someplace where we can sing?"
Norman rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, exactly. So we can sing."
"Good. Because I like to sing," Maisy said through a besotted smirk. "We'll have a barrel of fun. Boom, boom, boom!" Swinging her fist in the air to keep time with her music, Maisy dropped her head back between her knees.
Agatha returned, with a hefty mug of black coffee in hand and the redhead a few steps behind. "I heard what happened," the redhead said to Norman. "Is your friend okay?"
"Sure," Norman said, "she's just a little, uh--"
"Oompah, oompah, oompah-pah." Maisy sang out, still swinging her fist.
"Plastered?" the redhead offered with a knowing grin. "Is that the word you're looking for?" Norman nodded and they both laughed.
"Poor thing," Agatha said chuckling. "Something tells me she's not going to feel much like singing when she wakes up with a whopping hangover tomorrow morning. Here, let's get her to drink some of this coffee. It'll help to sober her up." Agatha sat on the step below Maisy, placing her hand on Maisy's head. "Come on, dear, sit up and have some coffee. You'll feel better."
"No!" Norman blurted, making Agatha jump, nearly spilling the mug of hot coffee. "I, uh, I just remembered that Mais . . . I mean, Mabel," smiling broadly, Norman patted Maisy's head, "Mabel here has a severe reaction to caffeine."
Slowly raising her head, Maisy sang out. "Everybody sing! Roll out the barrel--" Norman quickly pushed her head back between her knees, causing both Agatha and the redhead to eye him dubiously.
Through nervous blips of laughter, Norman said, "She needs to keep her head down or she'll throw up all over. Trust me, I know. Seen it happen dozens of times." He waved his hand through the air. Maisy struggled to bob up again and Norman pressed down harder, resting his elbow on Maisy's head and grinning all the while. "Really," He said, laughing, "trust me." He bobbed his head up and down as the two women stared at him curiously.
Just then, the door opened and Keller walked in. "Hi, Mom," he said as he dropped his bags and scooped Agatha into a hug. "Meeting ran shorter than I expected, so I'm back a day early. Hey, Sharon," he addressed the attractive redhead. "thanks again for picking me up at the airport on such short notice."
"Perfect. The boyfriend . . . the boyfriend's sister . . . and the boyfriend's mother," Norman mumbled, slapping his hand against his forehead and groaning as he shook his head slowly from side to side. As Sharon shot Norman an inquisitive look, Norman cringed and murmured, "Lord, you may as well take me now, cause Maisy's going to flat out murder me for this."
* * *
Chapter Eight
"Norman?" Keller said curiously. "I didn't expect to see you here. What . . . what's going on?" he asked, nodding in Maisy's direction. "Somebody sick?" Norman offered a meager smile. "Eh . . . something like that," he said hesitantly.
At the distinct sound of giggling, Keller walked closer to the steps and gazed curiously at the woman with her head between her knees. "Maisy?" he said incredulously as he watched her golden blonde locks bouncing in time with a string of giggles under Norman's elbow.
"Maisy!" Sharon shrieked, balling her hands and firmly planting them against her hips. Turning her wrath on Norman, Sharon transmitted a narrow-eyed glare. "Mabel, huh?"
"Oh God," Norman said weakly, removing his elbow from the back of Maisy's head and burying his face in his hands.
Maisy popped up her head, held her outstretched palm high in the air, and moved it in a wide, exaggerated half-circle. "Hello, Keller," she said exuberantly as she broadcast a wide grin and giggled again. Knitting her brows together, she frowned and folded her arms across her chest. "Hello Sharon," she said, an octave lower, with all the distaste she could muster in her wobbly condition.
Norman just shook his head and expelled another pained groan.
"Keller, you know this woman?" Sharon demanded.
Keller drew in a deep breath as he looked at the obviously inebriated Maisy, and then turned towards Norman, who just threw his hands up into the air with a shrug.
"Keller, answer me." Sharon's voice was even more insistent.
Keller cringed. "Wow, talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place," he said, huffing a little laugh. "Yes, Sharon. I know Maisy." Sharon's jaw dropped, rendering her momentarily speechless. After watching Maisy veer back and forth on the step another moment, Keller finally broke out into laughter. "Maisy Morganfield, I do believe you're plastered."
"Maybe jes a lil' teensy bit," Maisy slurred as she held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "Listen, I know," Maisy said, grinning. "Why don't we all sit down here together and sing?"
"Jesus H. Christ." Sharon threw her hands up into the air, letting them fall, slapping at her sides. "I don't fucking believe this."
"Sharon!" Agatha reprimanded. "Language." Sharon just rolled her eyes.
Finding the situation both unsettling and highly amusing, Keller laughed and said, "Maisy, maybe this isn't the best time to--"
"Roll out the barrel, we'll have a bar--" Norman clapped his hand over Maisy's mouth as she belted out her refrain.
"Ixnay, Aisymay," he said out of the corner of his mouth.
Maisy peeled Norman's hand from her mouth. "You know, Keller, that fruit wine you make is really good. Lot's better than that awful, mushroomy cabernet stuff. Yeeeeuuuuk!" Maisy stuck out her tongue and shuddered for added emphasis. "And this store of yours is real nice, but you oughtta do something about that furnace, 'cause, boy, is it ever hot in here." With that, Maisy abruptly stood up on the stair, waving her hand in front of her face. In a few seconds she went chalk-white and as her knees buckled, Keller ran over to grab her just in time to catch Maisy before she collapsed.
"Maisy," Keller whispered with concern as he looked down at the beautiful, unconscious woman resting limply in his arms.
"Aw, what are you looking so worried about?" Sharon said. "Haven't you ever seen a drunk pass out before? Keller shot his sister a warning glare. Tapping her foot rapidly against the wood floor, Sharon folded her arms across her chest and said, "All right, Keller . . . what in the hell is going on here. That fucking bitch is John's ex-wife. How do you two know each other?"
"I'm warning you, young lady, watch your language." Agatha step
ped towards Sharon and placed her hand on her arm. "For heaven's sake, Sharon, now's not the time for an inquisition."
"But, Mother . . ." Sharon protested as she wagged an urgent finger in Maisy's direction.
"But nothing," Agatha admonished sternly. "Keller, why don't you bring the poor girl upstairs to your apartment where she can get some rest?
"Poor girl, my ass," Sharon mumbled and then held her hands up in surrender as Agatha shot her daughter a threatening look.
"Dampen a wash cloth with cold water and dab it around her face until she comes around," Agatha said to Keller as he nodded and headed up the stairs with Maisy in his arms. Agatha turned to Norman and touched his shoulder. "Why don't you and I fix a fresh pot of coffee and a little something to eat? I think it'll make her feel better."
"Sure," Norman said, mopping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coat.
Agatha started to walk away, then stopped, turning back to Norman. "And," she said, smiling warmly, "I think you could use a little something to make you feel better too." She winked and Norman nodded thankfully, following Agatha into the next room. "Sharon," Agatha called out as she rounded the corner, "you stay down here and mind the store for a few minutes until I return." Already half-way up the stairs, Sharon stamped her foot and grumbled before coming back down and taking her position behind the counter.
Gingerly depositing Maisy across his bed, Keller prepared the damp washcloth and began to gently dab at Maisy's forehead. "Hey, Maisy," he said tenderly, "open those eyelids so I can see those big, gorgeous, Prussian blue eyes of yours." He continued to blot the cool cloth around her face and smiled as she began to come around. "Feeling better?" Keller asked as Maisy's eyelashes fluttered.
Eyes fully open, Maisy took a moment to focus. With a beaming smile, she threw her arms around Keller's neck and said, "Oh boy, what a great dream this is."
"Uh-uh." Keller chuckled softly and smoothed a few errant locks of hair from Maisy's face. "This is no dream, sweetheart," he whispered. "This is real life." Keller softly traced Maisy's features with his fingertips and let out a little groan as he felt himself stiffen with arousal.
Maisy closed her eyes, sighed and smiled dreamily. "Yes it is. It's a dream . . . I know it is. Because, the only time I see you anymore, Keller Chaney, is in my dreams." She let out another little sigh and opened her eyes. Knitting her brows, she tugged at his tie and frowned. "But, you're usually not wearing a suit and tie in my dreams."
"I'm not?" Keller mused as he stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes.
"Uh-uh. In my dreams, we're both buck naked." A whimsical smile spread across Maisy's features as she spouted forth with another giggle.
Keller's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, Maisy," he groaned and swallowed hard as vivid pictures implanted themselves on the movie screen of his mind. "You're driving me crazy." He released a pained chuckle and traced his fingers along the collar and shoulder of Maisy's soft, peach-colored silk blouse. When he found his thumb trailing towards the inviting swell of her breast, Keller groaned again and restrained himself.
"Kiss me, Keller. Kiss me just like you did the last time," she said dreamily, her eyes fluttering closed. "Except this time, don't get all angry and leave me like you did before. Stay with me and make love to me this time, Keller." She puckered her lips.
Keller sucked in a sharp breath and struggled to keep his increasing libido under control. "Oh, my poor, beautiful, tipsy, little Mazel Lynn," he said, chuckling softly as he gently wiggled the tip of her nose with his finger. "Seems like we've been through this scenario before."
"Huh?" Maisy gazed up at Keller with a bewildered expression.
Keller laughed softly. "I'd like nothing better than to kiss you and make love to you." He shook his head and swallowed hard. "Believe me," Keller said with a groan as he raised his eyebrows and expelled a hearty sigh, "you have no idea just how much I'd like to oblige. But, I think it might be a good idea if I wait until you're sober to take you up on your offer." He planted a soft kiss on Maisy's forehead. "I don't want to be accused of taking advantage of your condition again," he said chuckling.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that."
Keller huffed a chortle through his nose. "Yeah, famous last words."
"But Keller," Maisy said, luxuriating in a lazy groan as she squirmed against Keller's bedding, "this is soooo romantic."
"Believe it or not, I can think of more conducive romantic settings than here with my mother and Norman in one room and my sister--your arch enemy--in another." Keller shook his head and laughed. "On top of all that, I know damn well from past experience that you're going to hate yourself, and me too, probably, once you come out of this and realize what you said."
Maisy shook her head dreamily. "Oh no, I could never hate you, Keller. I love you." As Keller drew in a sharp breath, Maisy opened her eyes and gazed longingly into his glistening, passion-filled, deep brown eyes. "Chocolate drops," she whispered through a little moan as she pulled Keller close and locked her lips with his.
A chorus of throat clearing interrupted the kiss as Agatha and Norman entered the room, displaying embarrassed smiles and bearing trays with coffee and toast.
"Mom," Keller squawked as he pried himself away from Maisy's clenched arms.
"Mom?" Maisy echoed quizzically.
"I was," Keller cleared his throat, "that is . . . we were . . ."
"There's no need to explain." Agatha held up her hand to signal a stop to her son's sputtering clarification. "I'm not blind, Keller. I see exactly what's happening here. You were clearly taking advantage of this poor young lady's intoxicated condition. Keller Chaney, you should be ashamed of yourself."
"Wait. No." Keller shook his head fervently, "It wasn't like that." He hit the heel of his hand against his forehead. "You know, this is the second time in just over a month that I've been wrongfully accused of taking advantage of--"
"Mom?" Maisy said again as she shook her head as if to clear out the cobwebs. Lowering her arms from around Keller's neck, Maisy propped herself up on her elbows as the full realization of the events around her began to come into full clarity. Straining to focus, Maisy kept her eyes on Agatha, and became drop-jawed as she broke through her besotted fog into awareness. "Oh my God, you're . . . you're . . ."
"Yes, dear, I'm Agatha Chaney, Keller's mother. Uh . . . apparently you and my son already know each other . . . quite well, it seems." Agatha offered a polite smile as she deposited the tray she carried on Keller's nightstand.
"Come on, Mom, it's not what you think. Maisy just thought I was a dream, that's all," Keller said.
"Oh, I could die . . . I could just die," Maisy lamented. Focusing her attention back to Keller, who was still leaning over her, she glared up at him with an outraged expression. "What do you think you're doing?" Maisy shouted at Keller. "Stop manhandling me."
"Manhandling? If there was any manhandling going on here, it was on your part, Ms. Morganfield, not mine. I was only doing my best to oblige your drunken desires," Keller said smirking.
"Drunken . . ." Maisy sucked in a breath of indignation. "Ohhh . . . why you . . . Get off of me, right now, you . . . you ..."
"Dreamboat? Is that the word you were searching for?" Keller teased.
Shoving Keller away with a mighty thrust, Maisy bolted to an upright sitting position and shot an accusatory glare at Norman. Her finger outstretched, Maisy shrieked, "You! Norman, this is all your fault."
"Maisy, I swear . . . I had no idea," Norman said, crossing his heart and holding his steepled fingers to his lips.
"And Keller, just what exactly is it with you, anyway, huh?" Maisy said. "Aren't you capable of making time with a girl without getting her drunk first?"
Keller slapped his hand to his chest and jutted out his neck. "Excuse me? If I recall, you were well on your way to a state of intoxicated delirium long before I even arrived. You got yourself into this predicament all by yourself. It's not my fault if you're a lush."
"A lush?
" Maisy breathed in an audible exclamation. "Keller Chaney, how can you say that? I don't even drink." Vaguely remembering the gargantuan amounts of beer and wine she had imbibed earlier, Maisy rolled her eyes and corrected herself. "Well . . . what I mean is . . . I very rarely drink."
"Hmmm, let's see," Keller said through a smirk. "At Chowder Bay, you were sucking down a glass of Riesling . . . at our picnic lunch you knocked back more than half a bottle of cabernet . . . God only knows what you drank this afternoon to get you this loaded. In fact, the only place I didn't see you with a drink in your hand, or intoxicated, was at your ex-husband's wake. That's three out of four, Maisy. I'd say that for someone who's trying so hard to paint themselves as a near teetotaler, the odds are very much against you."
"Keller!" Agatha admonished her son. "What is the matter with you? I thought I raised my son to be a gentleman. Apologize to the young lady at once."
Keller hit the palm of his hand against his forehead and growled. "Mom, you don't understand. There's just something about Maisy that brings out the worst in me. She drives me frickin' crazy for cripe's sake."
With fists resting on her hips, Agatha slanted her son a warning look. "Keller . . ."
"Okay, okay, you're right." Keller plowed his fingers through his hair. "Look, Maisy, I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean to imply that you're a wino or anything like that, okay?"
"Oh, you didn't imply it, you just came right out and said it," Maisy said, flailing her arms. "And anyway, the only reason you're even apologizing is because your mother made you," she huffed with a pout.
Letting out a cry of vexation, Keller wildly paced back and forth. "There, you see?" he said to Agatha as he held his outstretched fingers towards Maisy. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you, Mom, she's impossible . . . exasperating! She comes here uninvited, gets plotched on wine, which was by no means force fed--that is, unless you're using a new technique on the customers, mother . . ." Agatha's hand flew to her chest as her jaw dropped. ". . . and somehow," Keller continued, "I'm the one to blame--and I wasn't even here until just a few minutes ago! Does that make any sense? Huh? Tell me, does it?"
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