by Liz Fichera
My cheeks turned molten. Oh, god. Had he seen me ogling Max? I spun around with my chin buried close to my neck, leaned hard against the glass door and then hurried across the parking lot.
The brass bell jingled when I entered the Desert Java.
“How was the gym this morning? Was the building still standing?” Kathryn grinned smugly at me. It was impossible to ignore.
Not stopping, I proceeded to the safety of the rear kitchen. It helped that I was already late. “It was fine,” I called out over my shoulder. “No broken bones. Amazing, really.” I returned a forced smile, more for her benefit than mine.
Kathryn’s grin faded. She followed me, her hands stuffed in the front of her apron pockets. “Did you see him?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb.” There was an eye roll in her tone. “You know who.”
I couldn’t admit that I spent my workout gawking at Max Kramer, especially when she already knew. It was pathetic, really. “I saw Carlos Flores, if that’s who you mean. He’s nice. I thanked him for helping me the other day. He seems real sweet.” At least that part was true.
“Well, that was friendly of you,” she said, with the emphasis on friendly. “But that’s not who I meant and you know it.” Kathryn leaned against the stainless steel counter next to my largest mixing bowl. Alongside it, I placed a new bag of flour, sugar, and a stick of real butter. I hated margarine and any ingredient that belonged in a science lab instead of food. “What are you baking today?” Kathryn asked.
“We’re out of chocolate chip cookies. Thought I’d make some and add a little peanut butter. What do you think?” I was relieved to be moving away from the topic of my extracurricular stalking activities. I would rather confine Max Kramer to my pathetic daydreams, thank you very much.
“Sounds yummy.” Kathryn leaned away from the counter and crossed her arms. “Now, speaking of yummy, what about Max?” Her eyebrows wiggled. “Out with it.”
“What about him?” I pretended to concentrate on a set of measuring cups, even though I could bake just about anything blind-folded.
“You know, Gracie…did he say anything to you…about the fall, I mean?”
“Of course not. He doesn’t even know I’m alive.”
“See?” She smiled triumphantly. “I told you. You worried all this time for nothing.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”
Kathryn smirked. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know. Not to worry. I’ll be fine.” I poured three cups of sugar into the mixing bowl and then began to cream the butter. “Please tell me they delivered the semi-sweet chocolate with our last shipment?”
But Kathryn did not give up easily. She never did. “You know, Gracie…Eddie has a friend at the office who he says is just your type. He’d like you to meet him. His name is Christopher, he’s got blondish-reddish hair, a little on the husky side, but very funny. He just had Lasik surgery and doesn’t even wear glasses anymore. What do you say? Wanna double with us next weekend?” Kathryn’s blue eyes widened with hope. That’s because in her world, she assumed that all of my dating problems would go away if we simply “doubled.” The trouble was she kept forgetting that we’d tried doubling before. And no one but Max Kramer could literally steal the breath from my body with a simple glance in my direction. Nobody.
I turned to my mixing bowl. “Not right now, tempting as that sounds, but thanks. I’m just not in the mood to date at the moment.” Unless his name begins and ends with Max Kramer.
Kathryn pouted and then sighed when I didn’t warm to her idea. “Why not? He’s real nice. And it’d be fun.”
“I’m not dating again until I lose at least ten more pounds.”
“But you’re perfect the way you are. Why are you putting your life on hold like this?” Her voice grew a little overly anxious, even for Kathryn. “You’re not being fair to yourself, you know.”
Fair. There was that word. Girls like Kathryn and the Alexandra Summers of the world knew nothing about fair. I wished they all could live in my world for a while, wear my spandex shorts and size eight-wide shoes. Maybe then they’d leave me alone.
“Wanna lick the spoon when I’m done?” My eyebrows wiggled.
Kathryn pursed her lips. “No thanks, but I really wish you’d reconsider. We could have some fun, maybe catch a movie, go dancing at one of the clubs on Mill Avenue. Remember what fun used to be? You and I used to go out on Saturday nights all the time. Now we’re lucky if we make it to the mall on a Sunday afternoon for a hot pretzel. We’re shriveling before our time, smack dab in the middle of this café.” Her eyes swept around the kitchen as though she despised the place.
That stung.
It was our home and it had belonged to our parents. It was all that we had left of them. It was as much a part of us as breathing.
Kathryn’s eyes lowered, almost as if she wished she could take the words back. But she didn’t.
I said it for her. “You don’t mean that.”
Her nostrils flared. “Maybe I do. A little.” Her eyes lifted, almost shamefully, to meet mine.
My voice rose an octave. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She sighed, heavily. I knew that sigh. It was signal that she had more news to drop into my lap. “You know, Grace, I’ve been thinking…”
I rattled around a drawer for another mixing spoon. “Uh-huh…”
“What would you say about selling this place?”
My hand froze, clutching a spoon. My gaze rose to meet hers. “What?”
Her glance dipped, briefly. “You know. Sell. Do something else?”
“Are you kidding?”
She swallowed. Then she nodded.
“But…this is our home.” The bump on the back of my head began to throb. I reached for it, massaging it. “And Mom and Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to sell. Ever.”
Kathryn’s lips pressed together.
“And what would we do with all the pillows?” I smiled at her, hoping she’d see the humor.
But her eyes rolled.
“Jeez, you’ll say anything to get me on a double-date!”
She didn’t answer. And she didn’t laugh like I thought she would. The kitchen turned silent.
Finally, I tossed the spoon in the bowl. “Look, when I want to date, I’ll let you know. I promise. But that shouldn’t stop you from going out, you know. You’ve got Eddie. I’m sure he’d love to take you dancing, so go. Right now, though, I’ve got to finish these cookies and get started on a crumble cake or we’re going to be scrambling later.”
“Okay, okay.” Kathryn pushed off the counter in a huff. She headed for the kitchen door. Over her shoulder she called out, “But I’m not giving up, you know.” She raised her tiny nose in the air. “I’m going to get us out of here if it’s the last thing I do.”
Out of here? Where would we go? But then I reminded myself that Kathryn could get so hyper sometimes, especially when she didn’t get her way. She was obviously in full Drama Queen mode.
Sighing, I reached for the refrigerator door as soon as she left me alone. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I pulled out a raspberry scone carefully wrapped in plastic, hidden way in the back of the lower shelf behind tubs of oatmeal, walnuts and raisins. I turned the radio above the sink to my favorite jazz station. I found a plate and sat at the counter, carefully pulling the plastic from the scone.
I closed my eyes and inhaled raspberries and powdered sugar.
Finally.
I’d waited all morning for this one, special moment. I could officially enjoy my morning treat in peace. I figured I’d earned it.
Sometimes a raspberry scone was even better than dancing—or a date. Or a cranky sister. At least it was more predictable, and it never, ever disappointed me.
Later, after I’d finished enjoying every morsel of my scone, Kathryn called out to me.
“Someone here to see you,” she said from the kitchen doorway. The background
noise muffled her voice so she sounded farther away than she was.
“Who is it?” I yelled back, but Kathryn didn’t answer. We were lucky if we could hear ourselves think.
The Desert Java had been packed since ten and we were almost out of the four dozen cookies and the two crumble cakes I’d baked earlier, along with a batch of leftover oatmeal bars from yesterday that, frankly, were a little stale. Still, the cash register rang nonstop, filling the air with the familiar computerized beep beep with each sale in between Kathryn’s conversations with everybody. She knew each customer’s name, college major, hometown, and favorite beverage. She was so much better at all the social stuff than I was. I could do it if I had to but it was never as effortless.
I ran my hands under the faucet before leaving the kitchen. The front of my yellow apron was sprinkled with flour, gluten, powdered sugar and just about every kitchen spice, including a few that simply never washed out. I stole a quick look at my reflection in the window over the sink and frowned. A wilted sunflower looked more attractive. I sighed. Then I walked through the kitchen door, wiping my hands against the front of my apron one last time.
I scanned the room for Kathryn but she was planted in front of the cash register. There were still about six people waiting to pay and Kathryn was in an animated conversation with one of them. Something about skim milk versus soy.
With my hands on my hips, I scanned the room again, wondering who could possibly need me at this busy hour. If it was the FedEx guy, the food delivery guy or the mailman, Kathryn would have dealt with them herself. All three preferred to talk to her, especially the lean, muscular FedEx guy who probably competed in triathlons in his spare time.
As usual, every table, chair and couch in the entire place was filled with customers, most of them sipping coffee as they tapped away on their laptops or chatted on cell phones. Norah Jones crooned through the stereo speakers in the corners of the room, giving the room a deceptively calm vibe.
Someone cleared his throat behind me. “Hi, Grace.”
A little startled, I turned and found myself staring up into the bottomless brown eyes of Carlos Flores.
He smiled down at me, one hand jammed in the front pocket of his jeans.
“Carlos?” I was unable to hold back surprise. I almost didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t wearing his gym uniform. “What are you doing here?” Not to mention, how did he know where I lived?
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened his fingers, palm up. “I think this belongs to you.”
I reached for the base of my neck. It was bare. “Oh, jeez!” I gasped. “Where’d you find it?” Carefully, I took the silver necklace from his hand and closed my fingers around it. The necklace had belonged to my mother; I rarely took it off. The turquoise pendant no bigger than a coffee bean was Mom’s favorite, a gift to her from Dad. He’d bought it for her in Bisbee where they were married. He always said the color matched Mom’s eyes. She never took it off either, when she was alive.
“How’d you know it was mine?”
“You dropped it when you slipped this morning. I found it on the floor. After you left,” he added quickly. “Sorry I couldn’t have gotten here sooner.”
I sighed and then opened my palm. “Carlos, I really can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost this.” I swallowed, hard. “It belonged to my mother.”
“She’d have been pretty mad, then.”
“I’d have been pretty mad. At me.” My head shook with disgust at my carelessness. How’d I miss it? “Thank you again, I really can’t say it enough. Let me get you a coffee and a piece of lemon cake. On the house. It’s the least I can do.” I was insistent.
Carlos lifted his hands. “Not necessary.”
I didn’t listen to him. Instead, I walked around the counter where we stashed the coffee pots, cups and pastry case. “Would you like to stay and eat here?”
“Can’t. I’ve got to get to class.”
“You’re a student too?”
He nodded.
“What do you study?”
“I’m in law school.”
“Cool.” I lifted the pastry case. “You must be pretty smart.”
Carlos shrugged and lowered his eyes. “I do okay.”
I smiled at his modesty through the pastry case glass. “I wish I could have said the same.”
“You didn’t like college?”
I stood up. “I did okay.”
Carlos smiled back at me, as if he was relieved we had something in common, and I felt my cheeks flush. But school was the last thing I’d ever brag about. I hated all of the auditorium-style classrooms, and I still had nightmares about the accounting classes I almost failed. I should have gone to culinary school or something. I was lucky to have squeaked by with a diploma, and if it hadn’t been for Dad, I probably would have dropped out. “You never know when you’ll need a degree,” he always said, but I never really took him too seriously. I always figured I’d work with him and Mom. Turned out Dad was partially right.
My eyes lowered from Carlos’s gaze. “Anyway, let me put the cake in a box for you. I’ll add a piece for your sister. For later.”
Carlos fidgeted beside me but I didn’t wait for an answer. I poured coffee into a large foam cup and placed two generous end pieces of lemon cake in a container, along with a napkin and two plastic forks. Before I closed the box, I reached for the powdered sugar shaker and dusted the cake.
Carlos finally seemed to relax and walked to the edge of the counter while I finished. As I pressed the lid on the lemon cake, he said, “You’ve got a nice place here.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t look up, still fidgeting with the box. “We like it. Been here my whole life.”
“Looks like you’re not the only ones.”
I glanced up at him. His eyes scanned the busy room. It buzzed and rustled with people and music and newspapers. The room felt better for it.
“How’d you know where to find me?”
“Elena told me. My sister,” he added quickly. “Your sister mentioned it to her once.”
I smiled. Then I held up a white bundle and his coffee. “Here you go. Hope you enjoy the cake, and thanks again for finding my necklace. I’d have been…totally crushed if I’d lost it. You’re a major life-saver, Carlos. Really.”
Carlos took the bag from my hand and for a moment our fingers brushed. His fingers were warm, just like his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that they locked on to mine a moment longer than necessary, as though there was something he’d forgotten to tell me.
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
Finally, I said, “Would you rather have a scone?”
Carlos blinked first. Then he shook his head.
I swallowed, a little confused.
“No, thanks. I mean, thanks. Lemon cake is great.” But then he lifted his chin toward the front entrance and I figured I was probably holding him up. “Well, I gotta get to class.”
“Glad you didn’t have to drive too far out of your way.”
He nodded again, tucking the bundle underneath his arm.
“Stop by anytime.”
“Maybe I will.”
I felt my neck flush and I reached up to touch it. It felt so strangely bare without my necklace pressed against my skin.
“See you at the gym,” he added before turning toward the door.
I watched the back of his head as he wove between the tables before pushing open the door. The bell jingled above his head, almost touching it.
That was odd, I thought as I watched him through the front windows. What was really strange was that I finally allowed myself a normal breath.
“Everything okay?” Kathryn called from the counter. Only one more customer stood in line.
I turned, still squeezing Mom’s necklace. My hand had turned clammy.
Without another word, I headed back to the kitchen with a quick look at the half-empty pastry case. I had a sudden urge to bake a batc
h of raspberry scones.
Chapter Four
Carlos
I was such a tonto! An idiot!
The girl invited you to sit down for a coffee and you say no? Moron!
I yelled at myself inside my head as I made my way to my truck.
“Five extra lousy minutes wouldn’t have mattered,” I snarled out loud. “At least you could have warned her about Kramer.” But was that the only reason to talk to her? Was I just being protective? Like an older brother?
Different thoughts swirled inside my head, tackling and running over each other. A gray-haired couple walking toward me on the sidewalk looked like they were having serious thoughts about crossing the street. I wouldn’t have blamed them. No doubt they saw confusion and rage—rage at my own stupidity—fill my face.
“For such a smart college boy, you’re a real idiot.” I jammed my key into the driver’s door to my truck, still mumbling to myself.
In truth, it was the way that Grace had looked at that necklace, a simple silver chain with a tiny piece of blue turquoise hanging on the end of it, that caught me off-guard. I didn’t expect that look of relief in her eyes to turn my knees to Jell-O. As if I’d just handed her the world. What was it about her that was getting to me? Around Grace I began to feel like an onion. Each look from her peeled away another layer.
And then her neck had to turn all rosy pink when I made her blush and all I could think about was how I wanted to press my lips against her skin. I imagined the rest of her was warm and soft, just like it was the morning I held her head in my hands.
It was a miracle that I remembered to thank her for the coffee and cake.
Cake. Lemon cake.
I looked down at the bag in my hand. My fingers gripped the paper bag as though it was a lifeboat.
Chapter Five
Grace
The next morning, I arrived at Goldie’s Gym a little earlier than usual. I was having Max Kramer withdrawals. Since my tumble, I hadn’t seen his face nearly enough.
And not gawking at Max at least once a day wasn’t good for my general outlook. To be frank, not seeing him made me cranky. I only hoped that I’d see him before my workout ended. I tucked away a raspberry scone in the back of the refrigerator for later, just in case I got lucky.