by Scott, Lisa
“Hey,” Kate protested.
“Sorry, hon. You know we love Teague.” Jeanne stood up and stretched. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.” Sure, she needed to get to work on those pies, but she really wanted to get back to Brad
“Don’t give up, girl. February’s the month of love,” Tonya said. “We could dye your hair red. Or pink?”
Jeanne laughed. “Save that for the gals at the residential center. They love decorating for the holidays, even when it’s on their head. When I worked in the kitchen there, they thought my green mashed potatoes for St. Patrick’s Day were genius. Marge talked about it for weeks.”
“Come on. I’ll drop you off,” Kate said.
They paid the bill, complimented Rita on her new sweater, and climbed into Kate’s Jeep.
Jeanne dropped her head back and sighed.
“I think it’s good you’re putting yourself out there, hon.”
Jeanne nodded. “That’s not my only New Year’s resolution. Brad and I are trying to boost business for Elegant Eats. Any ideas?”
Kate drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Isn’t the residential facility celebrating its fiftieth anniversary this spring? Maybe they’re having an event?”
“Good idea. I’ll have Brad call my old boss. I’m sure they’re looking for something beyond the lime Jell-O and rice pudding we used to whip up for special occasions.”
“Is business okay?” Kate drove past the bustle of downtown Willowdale toward the outskirts of town.
Jeanne shrugged. “I think so. Brad handles that end. We’re holding our own. But growing bigger’s always better, right?”
“As long as it’s not my butt we’re talking about. Your coconut cream pie is to die for. I swear I’ve gained five pounds since Rita started carrying your desserts at the diner.” Kate pulled into the parking lot of the old VFW that was the new headquarters for Elegant Eats. The building was dilapidated enough that it looked like a purposeful, distressed chic. She and Brad had had a fine time redecorating the inside, moving all the war hero pictures into the lobby where they could be hidden behind a floor-to-ceiling curtain they’d installed. Old Zeke Baker in his Civil War uniform with that handlebar mustache and grim expression might not be welcome at a discerning bride’s wedding reception.
“Thanks for the ride, and the tip,” Jeanne said.
Kate reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s all going to work out, honey. I’ll have to get you one of Tonya’s bumper stickers. The one that says, ‘Be positive.’ You know, the one with the letter B and the plus sign? Rita bought one the other day and hung it up at the Jelly Jar.”
Jeanne laughed. “Sure, I’ll plaster it to my forehead and see if the notion sinks in.” She jumped out of the car, wishing she could believe her friend, and then walked into the kitchen. The smell almost buckled her knees. “Mmm, what did you make?”
“Come taste.” Brad held up a fork, and she walked over like a kid entranced by the pied piper’s tune—only Brad’s lure was his food. Sure, he handled the business end of things, but he was a force in the kitchen, too.
“It’s a prosciutto-wrapped date stuffed with blue cheese.” He gestured with the fork for her to take a bite.
She closed her eyes and sank her teeth into the date. “Oh.” She chewed it slowly, savoring the taste. “Yes. Now that’s a good date.”
“Unlike last night.”
She covered her mouth, laughing, and finished chewing, savoring each morsel. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “More. That was good.” She realized she was staring at those mesmerizing eyes of his with her mouth open and snapped her gaze away.
“Michael Green.”
“New client?”
“Your date for February.” Out came his wicked grin.
She dropped her head back and groaned. “Can’t we stick to these dates? I like these dates. I looove these dates.”
He pulled the tray away and set it on the counter. “No, I’m saving these to take down to the police station for a taste.”
She leaned against the huge industrial fridge and looked up at the ceiling. Lordy, those tiles need a new paint job, she thought. “How did you find a date for February already?”
He rubbed his hands together. “I was thinking of all the tall guys I know …”
She sighed.
“… tall, like you said, and I remembered the guy who lived next to me in college. Found him on Facebook. He’s lives in Whitesville, and he’s excited to meet you in February.” He shoved his hands in pockets and gave her a cute-as-pie look.
“You did all this and made prosciutto-wrapped dates stuffed with blue cheese while I was eating lunch?”
He held his arms open. “What can I say, J? I’m good with dates.” He straddled a stool and scooched the platter of appetizers out of her reach as she walked toward him. “Plus, you promised. And this guy even has a job.”
“Ooh, big time. A job.” She scooted over and snatched one more date, then unloaded the pie supplies from the shopping bag onto the big stainless steel island in the middle of the room. “I don’t know. Ask me again next week. I’m still trying to wash last night’s fiasco out of my brain.”
“I’m going to be hearing about this forever, aren’t I?”
“When I want to get my way on something, yes, you will.” She grinned and pulled out two pie dishes from the drawer under the island. “So, Kate mentioned the residential center is celebrating its fiftieth anniversary this year. Why don’t we find out if they’re having a party? See if we can cater it?”
“Great. I’ll give them a call.”
She cracked an egg against her favorite glass bowl—the one she’d used growing up with Aunt Betty. Creations from that bowl were the only source of happy memories from her childhood.
“How much business do we need to bring in to actually make some real money this year? We’re not still working off our savings, right?”
He scratched his head. “I’ve got to really sit down with the books and flesh out all the numbers.”
She walked behind him and squeezed his shoulders. “I’m so glad I can count on you.” This was what she wanted. Someone she could have fun with. Someone she could trust. Someone to build a future with. Right—a future without kids. She took a step back.
“I’ve gotta get started on these pies.” Jeanne moved her supplies and set up her workstation at the other end of the kitchen—partly because her messy work habits usually left Brad humming to himself, just like he did when things weren’t quite under his control—but mostly to keep him out of touching distance.
Though no amount of space could put him out of her thoughts.
BRAD HATED to do it, but he hauled the platter of dates into the police station later that afternoon, hoping to drum up some business courtesy of his brother. Dolly waved him in, and he set the tray on her desk.
“What have we here?” she asked, eyeing up the goodies.
“New appetizer we’re trying out. Let me know what you think. My brother in?”
Dolly’s fingers hovered over the platter as she decided which one to pick, and with two shiny red nails she plucked a big date. “He is. I’ll call him for you.” She popped the date into her mouth and groaned. “Mmm. Luscious. And the dates are good, too.”
She winked at him and called for Tommy, then sampled a few more dates, licking the tips of her plump fingers.
Didn’t have the same effect as when Jeanne did it.
“Who let you in here?” Tommy asked, thumping Brad on the back. He looked at the platter and narrowed his eyes at him. “You come bearing food? You’re not in trouble are you, bro?”
Oh, he was in trouble, but not the kind Tommy was thinking. “Just testing out some new samples, trying to drum up some business. Police department got anything coming up?”
“Yeah, all eight of us in the department have a big shindig planned tomorrow, Dolly’s been killing herself with the plans.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Come on back to my office,
let’s talk.”
“I’m not appreciated around here,” Dolly hollered. “You’ll be sorry some day when I’m gone!”
Tommy folded his big body into an impossibly small chair and kicked his feet up on the desk, the chair squeaking beneath him. “So, what’s really going on, Brad?”
Brad drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Business could be better. That’s all.”
“I was wondering how things were going with you two. Mixing business with pleasure usually is a bad idea.”
“Dude, we’re just friends.”
“Hell, it’s no secret how you feel, bro. Why her of all people, I still don’t understand, but that’s an entirely different story. Are these feelings interfering with the business?” Tommy picked up a pen and started twirling it between his fingers.
Brad wasn’t in the mood to argue that, no, he didn’t love Jeanne. Tommy was too sharp of a cop for that. “Nah, there just aren’t as many gigs as we had hoped, and our startup costs were more than we anticipated.” That damn dropped zero …
Tommy set his feet on the ground. “You guys in financial trouble?”
Brad rubbed his neck. “No, no. Not yet.”
Tommy frowned and rubbed his chin. “We do have a small event coming up in March, but it could be awkward for you two. Hadn’t mentioned it to you yet.” Tommy wouldn’t meet his gaze.
The tone in Tommy’s voice kicked up Brad’s heart a notch. “What are you talking about?”
Tommy stood up and walked to the window, his back to Brad. “Folks from the state DOT are coming to town to take another look about installing a stoplight on Main Street.”
Brad’s blood chilled. “A light wouldn’t have prevented the crash.”
“Let’s not get into this, Brad. It’s a dangerous intersection that needs a red light instead of a caution light. Do you know there have been seven crashes there since the one that killed Mom?” He folded his arms and waited for a response.
“And the Clarks. Don’t forget them. But that was the only deadly crash, and don’t forget, it involved alcohol.” Brad shook his head.
Tommy shot him a look. “She tried her best to be a good mother.”
Brad wasn’t going to fight about who was to blame for the way things had turned out for them. His older brother, Jake, had been smart enough to move out of town. His little brother, Mitch, had been too young to have an opinion. Tommy and Brad were caught in the middle.
“Why do this now? Why after so many years?” His gaze drifted off to the map of Willowdale hanging on the wall. His eyes went right to the intersection where his life had been forever changed.
Tommy sat back down. “It’s some safety initiative. I reckon some busybody down at the capitol paged through decades of dramatic crash records and came up with a few beauties to rectify. Good PR for the Governor in an election year.”
Brad swore. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. It would just stir up old wounds and a new round of gossip. But business is business, he thought, and they certainly needed some. “And what would you need from Elegant Eats?”
“A nice catered lunch for eight. Some of the dignitaries are coming down for a photo op, to view the intersection.” He sighed. “I understand if you don’t want to do it. I was reluctant to mention it. But if you need the work …”
Brad nodded. “I’ll see if I can handle it without Jeanne. It might be too hard for her to be there.” Not that he’d be able to keep the lid on this news. She’d find out.
Tommy crossed his arms and studied Brad. “Take some time to figure out what’s really going on with you two.”
Brad sighed. “I don’t have to, because nothing is going on and never will be. We’ll take that job if you’ll have us.”
Tommy. “’Course we will.”
JEANNE’S FEBRUARY date was circled on the calendar for the first Friday of the month. February fourth. She wanted to get it out of the way. She frowned at it each time she walked by, like it was an upcoming gyno appointment taunting her. Not that Mr. February would be getting that far with her, no ma’am.
When the night finally arrived, it was cold and rainy, and she looked longingly at the couch. A bowl of popcorn, a good movie, and some quiet time with Scooter sounded like the perfect date, not another awkward dinner. She shooed Scooter off her coat and tried to brush off as much of his kitty fur as she could. The fact that she didn’t bother brushing all of it off just showed how much she was not looking forward to Mr. February. It didn’t seem worth the bother to go hunting for the lint brush, and how pathetic was that?
Michael Green was driving in to Willowdale for their seven o’clock reservations at Scalia’s. She arrived at seven-ten, not so much because she was trying to be fashionable or anything, but because that’s how long it had taken her to gather up the enthusiasm to get out of her car and head in. She got shivers remembering her date with Sam. But then she remembered how good Scalia’s chicken scaloppini was and headed inside. The promise of a good meal could get Jeanne to do a lot of things she didn’t want to, which was one more great quality about Brad—his fabulous cooking.
She popped open an umbrella and dashed to the restaurant. Standing at the hostess station, she scanned the restaurant for a lone male.
Kate’s stepsister, Dina, plucked a menu from behind the desk and smiled. “Whatcha doing here, Jeanne?”
Maybe meeting up in Willowdale was a bad idea. This was how things ended up in the gossip pipeline throughout the diners and beauty shops in town.
Jeanne opened her mouth, but Dina leaned forward and whispered, “Are you here on one of your blind dates? The Man of the Month thing? That’s really cool.”
Jeanne hitched her purse on her shoulder and put her hand on her hip. “Your sister wasn’t supposed to tell.”
“She didn’t. I heard Mrs. Johnson talking about it at Tonya’s salon.” She slapped her hand over her heart. “Tonya didn’t say a thing, swear to God.”
Jeanne just closed her eyes and shook her head. “Yep. Blind date. Lucky that you won’t ever have to endure one of those, being a married gal and all.” Dina had married Brad’s little brother Mitch—and delivered their baby—all in one night, two years ago.
Dina scrunched up her nose and gave a soft squeal. “I know! But, I thought it would be cool if you and Brad got back together, and then you and I could be sisters-in-law.” She shrugged. “Ah, well. Maybe Mr. Right’s waiting for you right now. I think that’s him over there.” She tipped her chin toward the far corner and handed Jeanne her menu. “Not bad looking. Good luck.”
She didn’t even bother correcting Dina that no, she wasn’t interested in Brad. Nobody believed her, anyway. Jeanne squared her shoulders and told herself to stop pouting. Michael looked to be a big improvement from Sam, and he’d been willing to drive out here—in his car—so that scored some bonus points.
Maybe Brad’s right. Maybe I can find a nice guy this way.
She set her umbrella by the coat rack and walked over.
He stood up as she approached. “Jeanne? So nice to meet you, I’m Michael Green.” He held out his hand.
“I’m Jeanne Clark.” He was at least six foot two, and she gave him a few points for that, too.
He pulled out her chair and she sat down. He swallowed hard and blinked a few times as he made his way to his seat. “I ordered us a bottle of wine, hope that was okay with you. Do you like Chardonnay?”
“Very nice. Thank you.” Okay, this isn’t so bad. She smoothed her napkin on her lap.
“My pleasure.” He rubbed his eyes. They were a nice hazel color, although a bit bloodshot.
She opened the menu, even though she knew what she was going to order. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a physician’s assistant.” He sneezed.
“Bless you.” Good. Brad hadn’t been lying. He’s actually employed. “That sounds really interesting. Do you like it?”
“Very much.” He rubbed his eyes, which suddenly seemed quite red. “And you run a cate
ring business with Brad, right?” he asked. “I guess you’d know what’s good to order here.” Another sneeze.
“Bless you again. Are you sick?” If she ended up in bed with the flu for a week after this day, Brad really would get the potato peeler treatment.
Michael shook his head and pulled out a handkerchief from his suit pocket. “Do you by any chance have a cat?”
Heat warmed her cheeks. “Yes.” Along with cat fur on my coat.
He nodded and sneezed. “Thought so. I’m allergic.” His eyes started watering. “Really allergic. Usually it doesn’t bother me this bad, unless I’m right in the same room with a cat.” Another sneeze. “I didn’t think it could possibly be a problem at a restaurant.”
She could feel the blush spreading down her neck and looked away. “Maybe I have a few stray cat hairs on me …”
He sneezed again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
She downed her glass of wine and groaned. Why bother dating a guy who couldn’t be around cats? It’s not like she’d get rid of Scooter for a guy. No way. She’d been with Scooter longer than she’d ever lasted with any man. She dropped her head in her hands and thought about laughing. Or crying.
Dina came over with her order pad ready. “Where’s your date? Do you need a few minutes?”
Jeanne rested her chin in her hand and looked up. “I have a feeling we won’t be eating. Things aren’t going so hot. My date’s allergic to me. Or to my cat, anyway.”
Dina’s eyes widened. “Never heard that one before. Sorry, Jeanne. He was cute.”
Michael returned from the bathroom but stood a few feet away from the table. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to call it a night. My medication is at home, and my throat is closing up. The closest ER is back in Whitesville. Should we try this another time?” His eyes were swollen.
Jeanne tilted her head. “You seem like a real nice guy, but I don’t think so. I’m a confirmed cat girl, and it looks like dating me could kill you.”
He laughed. “Sorry, Jeanne. I’ll get the check after you leave.” Another sneeze.