by Gale Borger
Oh my God , Mark thought, I am in trouble. BIG trouble!
Those eyes. Those huge dark blue limpid pools held him spellbound. They were the eyes of a siren on the face of Becky Thatcher.
Oh my God! Correction, Malone. You are not in trouble. You are freakin' DOOMED!
Then she smiled and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Mark became very conscious of his damp pants. He just stared at her.
"Hi, I'm Fred Miller. Sorry about the mess. Can I help you with something?"
Mark blinked. He opened his mouth. No words came out. He stared, blinked again, cleared his throat, shook his head, groped for the door handle behind him and beat a hasty retreat—backward.
Inside, Fred looked around her and tried to imagine a first impression through a stranger's eyes. "No wonder you scared him off, Miller. It's a disaster area in here! The poor man is probably scared to death! Maybe mental illness runs in his family. Geez Fred, you should talk! Good thing he's not a local, because I'll most definitely never see him again." She looked at the closed door and sighed. "Too bad, really."
Mark practically ran back to Cool Bean and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against it and squeezed his eyes shut. Breathing hard, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and willed his heart to slow down. Chris sauntered out of the back room and wore the first real smile Mark had ever seen on the kid. Folding his arms across his chest, Chris raised his chin smugly. "Uh, by your deer-in-the-headlights look, I take it you met our Fred."
Mark nodded slowly, "Why didn't you warn me?" and Chris chuckled.
"Don't feel too bad, Mr. Malone. Fred has that effect on every guy who meets her for the first time."
Mark swallowed. "She married?"
"Uh, no, why?"
Mark stood and swung toward the front door once again. "She will be." Taking a deep breath, he disappeared out the door.
Chris stared at the closed door, this time his mouth was hanging open.
Chapter 3
Renaldo the Sleaze was in trouble. A professional pickpocket by trade, he prided himself on excelling at being a jackass of all trades. He'd recently hooked up with a sweet young thing whom he'd duped into believing he was a banker from Detroit thinking of transferring to the Waukesha branch of his company. He claimed to be a Consumer Credit Card Portfolio Manager, so when he showed up with a wad of credit cards, the dumb kid wouldn't ask too many questions.Banking & Information Technology Colorado
But recently, an old buddy from up state looked up Renaldo. Hack Greeley had been his cell mate in prison for about nine months last year. The other inmates called the two of them Ren and Stumpy, because Hack stood only about four feet tall on his tip-toes. Renaldo always took it in stride because frankly, Hack terrified him down to his toes. If Renaldo believed half the stuff Hack told, Hack was a very ugly character. Burglary, rape, weapons charges, drugs—Ren had personally watched as Hack chibbed a shiv through a guy and was out the door and in his cell reading a book before the body hit the floor. No one ever suspected Hack, but Hack knew that Ren knew, and that scared Ren spitless.
Once out of prison, Ren took a job under an assumed name as a janitor at a large shopping mall. There the pickings were easy, if small. A wallet here, a couple credit cards there, maybe a gift card or a little cash; nothing so big as to draw attention to himself. He was laying low until the Christmas season, which was right around the corner. Then he would rake in a big haul and scoot—maybe go to Florida for the winter.
Then Hack had walked back into his life, and all his plans went down the toilet. Hack never stood much for planning, which is probably why he spent so much time in the joint. Hack was a grab-and-go kind of guy. When he made his way down to look Ren up, he noticed the number of diamond outlets and jewelry stores in the mall where Ren worked. The only problem was he needed a partner. Enter Renaldo.
Hack had stolen a bunch of electronic gear and figured he could run the van while Renaldo worked as the inside man. Hack said they'd hit one or more of the jewelry stores in the mall, divvy up the rocks and dash. Gems weren't Ren's thing, but he figured oh well, his Christmas plans were out the window anyway, so why not? Hack's plan sounded solid, and he couldn't possibly stay in town after the robbery, so maybe he'd just head to Florida early this year.
The heist went off without a hitch and Ren arrived at the rendezvous ahead of schedule. He paced and fidgeted and about scared himself right out of his pants. When he finally settled down, he began to think. Here he was taking all the risks, and that little puke Hack was going to get the same cut as him.
Ren opened the velvet bag and poured the contents into his lap. Rings, tennis bracelets, necklaces, brooches, and loose gems all twinkled in the dim light of the alley.
Renaldo picked up a small heart on a chain. It had a ring and a set of ear bobs to match. He had grabbed them as an afterthought, thinking they were pretty but not really worth much. He thought he'd give them to Mindy. Not that he was a sap, it would just strengthen his cover.
Ren looked both ways to make sure Hack was nowhere around and stuffed the set into his sock. Even if Hack knew about the necklace, no way would he care about a cheap set of bling, but better to be safe than sorry. Ren smiled to himself as he settled down to wait for Hack.
Chapter 4
Matthew Malone was a man of action. He'd gathered the capital, checked on zoning, schmoozed the politicians, and set a plan to work. His brother Mark did the grunt work of hiring the help, setting up the shops and getting them off the ground. It worked well for both of them.
Mark was at present getting the new store in White Bass Lake ready for its grand opening November first. Matt had spoken with him earlier and Mark assured him the store would be ready for opening day. They were going with the Christmas theme even though Thanksgiving was still couple weeks away. Christmas generated good cheer, fellowship, and hopefully, copious amounts of coffee drinking in Small Town, USA.
Going over his list, Matt checked the things which might have cause to go belly up when he least expected it. His eyes lit on the Santa he'd hired through the agency in Racine. He needed to follow up with a phone call. He marked it on his "to-do" for this afternoon. Huh. Why not do it now?
Matt picked up the phone and dialed up his brother. Sitting back, he propped his feet on a glass-topped coffee table.
Mark picked up the phone. "Oh big brother, where art thou? I'd thought you'd upped and r-u-n-n-o-f-t'd by now."
Matt laughed. "No, I'm still here little bro, just a little busy. Say, did that Santa I hired show up this morning?"
"Funny thing, I was talking about that earlier with Chris, the kid I hired. Nope. Nada. No Santa here in White Bass Lake. Why, did he up and r-u-n-n-"
"Knock it off, Mark. I paid that talent agency good money for that Bozo to show up."
"Maybe that's our problem. I'm looking for Santa and you ordered me a clown instead."
"What is with you? You take up drugs while I wasn't looking? Pay attention Mark. No Santa, no opening. The Hicksville coffee shop is bust."
"Now just a minute, Matt. Just because this isn't Chicago, don't start calling it Hicksville. We agreed to leave the big cities to the coffee conglomerates, and we would make our name by being the quaint little coffee shop around the corner. These are the people who have made us a couple of wealthy guys. The small town gig has worked well for us, so show a little respect. Small town does not necessarily mean Billy Bob lives here.
Matt sighed. "Well uh, excuse me, but I just can't get past the weird feeling that this town is a bad idea."
"Hey, settle down. Briggs and Young assured us the traffic would hold steady, and this town would be a good move."
"Yeah, but this will be our first store where neither of us will be directly in charge, and you know how flakey Mindy is. I'd bet she'll be late to her own funer—"
"Uh, Matt? About Mindy. . ."
Silence, then, "What? Is it Mindy? Please don't tell me Mindy screwed this one, Mark. So help me, I warned Mom not to let her—"<
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"Whoa, Matt, slow down! Don't worry, everything is good. Uh, Mindy is good."
Mark crossed his fingers, just like they did when they were kids and they were lying. "We're on schedule and everything is in place. If you want reassurance, I'll call Mom and have her down as a back up. You know Mom, she'd kick butt on Attila the Hun if she thought it would help us out."
Mark could almost smell the burning rubber as his brother's brain mulled over the idea. "Sounds great, Mark. Tell you what. I'll sell Mom on the idea of flying into Milwaukee, you pick her up and I'll be in a few days after opening to clean up before we leave Mindy in charge."
Mark sighed in relief. Just change the subject now and get off the phone. "On the subject of our way-ward Santa, if he doesn't show, I can put out some feelers with the locals and hire a Santa from town here. It might draw a larger crowd if everyone knows Santa." Thinking of Fred Miller, he said, "I might even hire a pixie to take pictures of the kiddies on Santa's lap."
Picturing Fred Miller in black lace thigh-highs, stilettos, an elf hat and nothing else, sitting on his own lap, Mark warmed to the idea. He warmed so well his damp pants became down right uncomfortable. He shifted and missed half of what Matt said next. "Yeah, whatever, I'll take care of it."
"I know you can handle it, I wasn't insinuating otherwise, Mark. Call me if you can't make it work."
Mark looked down at his zipper and mumbled "I hope I can make it work, but if I can't, I'm definitely not calling you!"
"What was that, Mark? Are we good?"
Mark straightened. "Yeah, you bettcha we're good! See you in the funny papers, Matt."
"Not if I see you first, little brother—later."
Mark hung up and stood. He should just go home and start all over, but he still needed to get dog supplies and a Santa. The idea struck suddenly, and he almost skipped out the front door fifteen minutes later. Chris said nothing but watched with avid interest.
As he walked the sixty feet to Miller's Menagerie, Mark fingered the list in his pocket. Cool, calm, and collected. Remember that, Malone. You don't want to scare her off; you want to suck her in. Chris said all the guys who meet her react the same way. You have to be different. Be suave, but be a regular guy. Be witty. Be charming, but not oily—girls hate that. Be uh, be. . .be yourself, idiot.
Mark stopped, reached for the door handle, depressed the tongue, took a deep breath, and pushed. The bell over the door tinkled and he stepped inside. No one was around, but from far away he heard a raucous voice yell, "There's no one here but us chickens! Clunk-Cluck-clunk!"
Mark smiled at the bird's antics, and then heard an "Ooof! I'm back here, be with you in a minuuu-whoa!"
Mark followed the voice to a storage room in back and chuckled at the sight that greeted him. Fred stood at the top of a ladder, currently hopping around on the legs of same ladder. One leg had caught on a shoebox, and Fred was trying to dislodge it so the ladder would stand back on two legs. She had somehow bounced away from the shelf she'd been leaning against, and was trying to balance on the ladder and dislodge the box without falling.
She glanced toward the door and recognition had a pink flush working its way up her neck to set her cheeks aflame. "Ugh, you again!"
Crossing his arms over his chest, Mark leaned on the door frame and grinned. "Yep, me again. Uh, would you be in need of a little help there, Miz Miller?"
She scowled at him and snapped, "No, I'm doing fine, thank-you-very-much. I just have a slight prob-ooo—oops!" The ladder popped forward and Fred tried to re-balance.
Mark scratched his head. "Well, seeing that it's not me with my derriere hanging out in the wind, I'll have to take your word for it. You see—"
The bell jangled over the entrance door. "Hey, anyone around? Fred, did you crack your head on something? Yo, where is everyone? Kitty?"
"Reach for the sky, pilgrim!"
"Ah, Kitty, you warm my heart. Where's Fred?"
"I'm in back. Hurry!"
Mark was still grinning when an older version of Fred stepped through the door. "Oh Fred, what the heck—"
She stopped when her eyes lit on Mark. She stuck out a hand. "Hi, I'm Freddie's sister Buzz."
Mark clasped her hand and felt a little funny. "Mark Malone."
Buzz felt a wave of goodness, honesty, and steadfast loyalty seep from his palm to hers. Ohhhh yes, this one is definitely okay. She nudged Mark with an elbow. "How long has the show been gong on?"
Totally charmed, Mark looked at his watch. "Well, I've been here for seven minutes. It's just heating up."
"You don't look too upset."
"She said she was all right and didn't want my help, but I'm not too sure. I came in for dog food, but no one told me I'd be getting dinner and a show."
Buzz barked out a laugh. "Well then, we'll leave her to it." She took his arm and they walked toward the front of the store.
From the back room they heard, "Hey you two, get back here!"
Buzz smiled. "Now, Mr. Mark Malone, what kind of dog and how old?"
"Bulldog, about four or five, I guess."
"Lovely! I have a bulldog as well." Buzz walked to the dry dog food and picked up a bag. "You don't want one with ground corn as a first ingredient. Dogs don't digest it well, and you end up with huge poopy piles and um, a lot of gas. Bulldogs are also prone to allergies, so you want to stay with turkey, chicken, duck, salmon and lamb. Beef and Buffalo tend to feed the allergies." She thumbed through the bags. "Since dogs are carnivores you don't want to go all vegetables, and you want to stay away from a diet with all wet foods because of dental problems."
Buzz picked up a bag and flipped it over. "Here we go. Turkey, barley, peas, carrots, brewer's yeast, yaddah-yaddah, look for labels like this one. You also want to get a raised food dish. Not too high, just so she's not snorking on the ground trying to gobble up her kibble and swallowing too much air—you'll regret it later when it comes out the other end."
"Thanks for the heads up, but I've already been christened."
Buzz smiled. "Well then," and continued on with leashes, treats, dog beds, and shampoos.
Mark just nodded, absorbing the information, and loading his cart.
They both stopped when they heard "Oh no! Ohhh!" Followed by a thump from the rear of the store.
Mark raced down the hall in time to see Fred balancing on one leg, the ladder doing a gentle spin. Hands on hips he said, "Are you ready for help now?"
"Oh, all right. I need help. Can you get me down?"
Mark looked around. Well do you have a goose around here?"
Fred sputtered and Buzz laughed.
"I'm not fooling here, Buzz! And Smiling Jack over there can't or won't help meeeee ah, oh!"
Stepping forward, Mark plucked Fred off the toppling ladder. She grabbed him around the neck and fell hard against his chest. They fell back against the wall and stared at each other nose-to-nose.
Fred slowly blinked and Mark didn't breathe. She raised her chin a notch and Mark took that as an invitation. His mouth covered hers and every thought in her head went south. All she could do was tread water. He was a drowning man. They went down together and didn't come up for air.
Fred finally leaned back and he let her slide slowly down his front. Her head spun. Her knees shook. She couldn't speak, and her brain went numb, so she just stared.
Holy cow! You. You're the one!
"What?" she asked aloud
Mark watched her face. He steadied her when her feet hit the floor and she looked up. He looked into her eyes. A tingle started at his head and traveled to his toes in a whoosh of feeling. Oh my God I was right. You're the one!
Fred flopped down on a box. "Wow."
Mark ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Wow."
Fred stood on wobbly knees and Mark reached for her again. He kissed her once, twice, and was going in for the long one. He hesitated and whispered, "I hear bells ringing."
"It's Christmas."
He sobered. "No, I mean
it. I hear bells."
"Oh no, the door!"
They sprang apart like they were electrified. Buzz, who had gone back out front, skidded through the door and said, "Good Lord, stop fooling around, Fred, Dad's here!"
"Dad's here?"
"Your father is here? What's wrong, is that bad?"
Fred scraped her hair back and tucked in her shirt. "No, but it's always an ordeal."
From the front a booming voice called, "Fred? Freddie girl, your mother wanted some of that wild bird seed mix, and I told her I'd pick it up—oh! There you are, and such a pretty picture you make with your cheeks all rosy, just like a little Irish fairy!"
Mark stood frozen, and Fred gave him a nudge. What did he think he was going to do, blend into the woodwork?
Mark eased back against the boxes, trying to blend in to the scenery. Bill Miller stopped and looked his direction. His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept Mark from head to foot. Mark stuck out his hand. "Mark Malone, Mr. Miller. I own the coffee shop next door and my sister just dumped her dog on my doorstep. Since I'd rather spend my money locally, I popped in and your gracious daughters have serviced me well."
At Fred's gasp and Buzz's laughter, Mark realized what he had said. "Oh! Uh, I didn't mean serviced me, I apologize. I'm sure they service everyone they meet—I meant I hadn't been serviced like that in years, or paid for services, no, that's not what I mean at all."
Mark looked at each of them, and instead of being angry; all three Millers were wiping the tears out of their eyes. Totally humiliated, Mark looked at the floor and ran a hand through his hair. Bill Miller walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder. "Good man that you are, you probably didn't come to a pet shop to get serviced, but got good service and a little dog food as well. I saw the pile at the front counter." He turned to Fred. "I'll be goin' now, and I'll pick up that bag of seed on my way."
Bill looked at Mark. "Be a good lad and carry my seed for me, would you?" Mark jumped to pick up the seed. Outside he threw the sack onto the front seat of the truck and shook Bill's hand. "Nice meeting you, sir."