Jorja & Malcolm (Toffee Kisses Book 1)

by Shelley Siddall

  Her Dad was staring at the cat hair on his fork and grimacing. He silently tried to get Jenny’s attention by waving it behind Jorja’s head and pointing to it.

  His wife looked at her own fork and found that Miss Stein had inspected it as well. Jenny put the fork down and patted Jorja on the back.

  “Something’s weird,” Jorja said, getting up from her chair.

  “Okay, Miss Stein may have taken a bite out of my pancake when we were otherwise occupied,” Crawford said.

  “No, it’s not that Dad. How many young men, no matter how jerky, give potted plants as a romantic gift? And orange flowers at that? Hmmm.”

  She walked over to the pile of dirt and plucked out the card.

  “It says, “Sorry to scare you with important surgical work on our first date. Really consider the Botox -Jesse.”

  Crawford reached over for Jenny’s plate, scraped the contents onto his; did the same with his daughter’s plate, then got up and grabbed the card from Jorja. He stuck it in the top pancake, admired his work, and then yelled out “Tada!” as he dumped the whole works, sans plate, in the garbage.

  In the meantime, Jenny joined her daughter as she helped her clean up the plant.

  “I think we can save it, if you want to?” she asked.

  “I know you like orange for its exuberance and enthusiasm and the life affirming aspect of a growing thing…but how would the idiot we may or may not have thrown down the stairs know?” Crawford wondered. “It’s a puzzler for sure,” he added.

  “Well, Malcolm knows. Do you think he sent them? Like, have a great day at the festival, Babe?” Jorja asked.

  Jenny frowned. “I don’t think he would have called you Babe…”

  Jorja frowned too.

  “But, I do think he sent them,” Jenny continued. “The idiot we may or may not have thrown down the stairs must have switched out the cards!”

  Jorja smiled and happily re-planted the pretty chrysanthemum. About a half an hour later she was dressed in paint splattered overalls with a smock that read “Let’s paint!” Jenny and Crawford were likewise adorned and the trio began lugging out tables and chairs, brushes and aprons and a host of other necessary items to make their day successful.

  “What happened to you?” a voice called out at Connelly Park, “Did you fall off an edge of a cliff?”

  Jorja looked up and found her friend Tracy smiling back at her.

  “Oh good gravy!” Jorja yelled as she gave Tracy a big hug. “So wonderful to see you! How are you? How are the kids?”

  “Far too cool to come and paint with the Clark family. But, I’m here! I’m glad you survived that cliff incident and made your annual pilgrimage; you know, the four feet from your back door.”

  “Yah!” Jorja said, “Let’s get you an apron!”

  As the friends rolled out the paper and weighed it down with painted rocks, Tracy said quietly, “Seriously Jorja, what happened to you? You quit the bank, coloured your hair, although it looks fabulous, and disappeared. You don’t write, you don’t call.”

  Jorja grimaced. “I know and I’m sorry for not staying in touch. When my Grandma Connelly died, I sort of got thrown off balance.”

  At each painting station, Jenny and Crawford were busy setting up little containers of blackberry juice. Earlier in the week, the family had squished the berries and added salt and vinegar to preserve the colour. As they laid out feathers, brushes and gloves, Jorja’s parents unabashedly eavesdropped.

  “I know your Grandma was a huge influence on you”, Tracy began, “But I thought you had lost your mind when you resigned. I mean, you were not only good at your job, but everyone loved you and your positive energy! What happened?”

  “Well, as much as I loved my Grandma, I was coming to terms with the fact that she wasn’t really a nice person.” Jorja looked over her shoulder and said, “Sorry Mom.”

  Jenny patted the air and nodded her agreement. She continued to place rocks painted like animals on each corner of the paper in case a summer breeze came up.

  “You know my Grandparents were so driven! They started a little grocery store, built it up to a big chain, pretty much founded this town, and were super active in the community,” Jorja explained. “After Grandpa died, Grandma still kept soldiering on. Literally. When I was young, she had me doing math drills, physical fitness drills…”

  “Clean her house drills,” Crawford added.

  Jorja smiled at this addition and shook her head as she smiled at her Dad. “My parents, on the other hand, you know, these two people with excellent auditory capabilities behind me, rather indulged me. I really didn’t have a lot of rules at home when I was growing up. I guess Grandma felt she had to “provide structure” as she put it. Unfortunately, she also provided a lot of criticism.”

  “Your rocks are so cute,” Tracy said suddenly, interrupting Jorja’s reflections. “Look at this Panda bear!”

  “And they’re even named,” Jorja said, “Look at the bottom.”

  “Herman! I love it! But won’t they get all covered with the blackberry paint?”

  “Nope. I sealed them with varnish; the paint will just wash off.”

  The two old friends continued setting up the tables, with Tracy lifting up each little rock to look at the name painted underneath.

  “Marigold! Cynthia! Little George the bunny!” Tracy exclaimed. “I know a couple of not so little kids who would like a rock pet.”

  “Oh you can have them,” Jorja started, but then saw Jenny raising her eyebrows. “For a small fee…um, what do you think would be fair?”

  “I’ll take the Panda and the bunny and I’ll give you twenty bucks. Fair?”

  Jorja looked at her Mom. Jenny shook her head.

  “How about ten dollars for the pair and you tie on an apron and paint with us?” Jorja negotiated as Jenny sighed.

  Soon the tables were being filled up with young artists and their parents. Feathers and brushes were being used to create fabulous paintings of houses, crows and even a Dalmatian; but by far the most used instruments were hands.

  One creative young artist used his nose to splotch a line of blobs across his paper. When asked, he explained that they were “footprints of my doggie in the snow!”

  Tracy had just left with her rock purchases and her painting of a drunken bat crashing into the moon, when another voice called out to Jorja.

  “Hi Jorja! We’re finally here!”

  It was Amanda Sinclair, with her two little girls in tow. One wore a ballerina skirt over her jeans while the other appeared to be in a cow onesie. Both, however, wore an extremely disinterested attitude.

  “Maisy, this is Jorja, the lady who invited us to the festival. Say hi,” Amanda said presenting the ballerina.

  “Mother, puh-lease, I’m eight years old already.”

  Amanda turned to the other girl, “And this is Sasha. Sasha, say hi,”

  “Moo!” the little girl responded.

  Amanda smiled a crooked grin. “It’s a phase…I hope,” she said.

  Jenny came over with aprons and chuckled, “Ah yes, the cow phase. Jorja went through something similar when she was younger. A frog phase. All things frog, all the time. I think it’s ended, but…I’m not sure.”

  On cue, Jorja let out a loud croak and began jumping around. The little girls tried not to laugh, but began giggling. Sasha yelled out “Moo, moo, mooo!” and hopped around with Jorja. Maisy gave an exasperated sign, but then started to twirl around the booth.

  Cydney Connelly was also twirling. She had raw wool wrapped around her four fingers and was explaining to the class, “Here is approximately the length of wool I use for the thrum. Now I take my little circle and pinch it in the middle and felt it by rolling it with the edge of my other hand.”

  The men and women gathered around her followed suit.

  “How many thrums do you need for a pair of mittens?” one woman asked, as she looked proudly at her little figure eight of lilac wool.

  “Abo
ut 160,”Cydney instructed, “but don’t worry; as you’ve seen, you can make them pretty fast. Okay, let’s get our sports weight main yarn and start adding thrums!

  Just then the door to her shop, High- Fiber Diet, opened and a young woman came running in.

  “Sorry Cyd, my Mom called me early this morning with a family emergency and I slept right through the alarm. What are we doing this weekend?”

  The diminutive proprietor handed the late comer a pair of mittens. “Put your hands in those and tell me how it feels,” she said as the group around her watched.

  As soon as the young woman put her hand in one mitten she started to smile. “Wow,” she said, “This is soft and toasty! But why are we making mittens in the middle of August?”

  “Winter will be here before you know it!” said one knitter.

  “I think it’s going to take a long time to make them,” said another.

  “Surely not three months?” said yet another, as the rest of the class chuckled.

  Cydney showed a brief video of how to insert the thrum into the mitten while knitting; then went around the room instructing one on one. When she sat next to the late-comer, Cydney asked, “I hope everything is okay at home Parmella?”

  Parmella let out a big sigh. “My little Sister Surinder is, as you know, about seven months pregnant and started having contractions last night. They rushed her into emergency and it turned out to be false labour.”

  “Well that’s a relief!”

  Parmella continued, “You’d think so. However, for the first hour or so I had to take Mom’s many phone calls and texts at the same time as Surinder’s. She knew it was what they call…hmm what was it now?”

  Cydney closed her eyes and said “Braxton-Hicks contractions.”

  Parmella picked up another thrum and twisted it around her needle. “That’s it. Surinder knew it was false labour; she had done a lot of reading and figured she was fine. But Mom and Dad insisted she go to emergency. At two o’clock in the morning no less!”

  “How did they know she was having contractions?” Cydney asked, briefly glancing towards the rest of the knitters.

  “That was, as she texted me, her “fatal error”; she had started pacing in the living room and slipped on a throw rug and fell on one knee. Apparently she let a curse word rip and, Mom, dead asleep on another floor, heard her.”

  “Moms are like that,” Cydney smiled. “Mine had a swear jar, which I regularly filled with quarters. I believe I financed every car we ever bought. And Dad bought a lot of cars!”

  The two women laughed, but then Parmella frowned.

  “She wants to keep the baby. Our parents are not pleased with this decision and the tension in the house is unbelievable. I’m so glad I live on the mainland and they live on the island. Surinder texts me every day with the latest news, and it sound like she is walking on egg shells all the time.”

  Cydney starting coughing and excused herself from the group. In her little office she made a phone call.

  “Our daughter found out she was adopted and is asking questions,” she said to the man who answered.

  Malcolm was thinking about his family as well; especially his larcenous cousin, Stephen. He had woken up that Saturday afternoon and after his feast of oatmeal, decided to phone his Aunt and Uncle. The conversation did not go well and as such Malcolm was now in his spare bedroom lifting weights.

  “So glad I put this home gym in,” Malcolm grunted as he completed his work out with a third set of chin-ups.

  His call to Jorja went to voice mail.

  “I’m calling a meeting of the Giant Squid Detective Agency,” his message began. “Bistro, tomorrow, 1400 hours. We need to revise our policies; I simply cannot sit idly by while wrongs are being committed.”

  Malcolm softened his tone then continued, “Look Jorja, I know you’re probably busy packing up after your painting extravaganza, but I just wanted to say how much I, um, appreciate you. Oh yes, I hope you got my flowers wishing you well today. Anyhow, so many people hide what they are, but with you there is no pretense; that’s why I love being with you, so I want to…”

  At this point the answering machine clicked off.

  Malcolm still felt restless so decided to go for a walk. As he exited his apartment building, Royal Towers, he met Dustin Sinclair.

  “You wouldn’t believe what happened to Amanda!” Dustin exclaimed. “Thursday night she got into an accident, thank God the kids weren’t with her, and she got her hand all cut up. She spent the night in the ER, and get this; a very nice Nurse gave her a ride home in the morning. He said he lived close by.” Dustin looked closely at Malcolm.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?” Dustin said as the light was dawning.

  “Quite possibly,” Malcolm said. “Will you need me to set up for you and your wife next weekend?” he asked.

  “Malcolm, you’ve gone above and beyond for us for months! Yes thank you, I will need your help next weekend; but maybe not for too long after that because guess what? We’re looking at houses! As a family! The twins don’t know yet; Amanda is going to tell them when they get back from the blackberry festival today.”

  “Dustin, I’m so happy for you guys. You’ve both worked so hard at this reconciliation and, oh excuse me,” he said to the lady attempting to get by them.

  The little dog in her purse barked and started growling.

  “Look, you upset him!” she snarled at the two men, “Napoleon needs his supper! Get out of my way!” She pushed by and continued to glare at them while she waited for the elevator.

  Unfortunately, the elevator was taking some time, so an impromptu staring contest began. Malcolm and Dustin on one side; Napoleon and his Mother on the other. The bell of the elevator arriving startled them all. As the doors closed, Malcolm said with a fake sneer, “I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too!”

  Dustin opened his eyes wide with surprise.

  “Sorry,” Malcolm said, “I received some bad news this morning and I think you just saw a little misdirected anger. Well, I better cool off and head out for my walk; all the best with your house hunting Sunday!”

  As Malcolm walked through a residential area, he saw lovely gardens overflowing with glorious dahlias, spectacular poppies and outrageous sunflowers.

  “When Jorja and I buy our first house, we’ll plant sunflowers in the front yard. She will love that! And of course, masses of orange poppies!” he thought. Malcolm started to chuckle as he walked.

  “Talk about putting the cart before the horse,” he said aloud.

  “Please, not so loud,” a voice said plaintively.

  Malcolm looked to his left and saw a leg sticking out from behind a dahlia bush. Malcolm investigated and found that the leg was attached to a young man wearing dark sunglasses and a pained expression on his young face. The young man’s leg was elevated on a chair and had a cast on it.

  “Sorry I laughed so loudly,” Malcolm apologized. “Do you need any help?”

  “Coffee. I am so hung over.”

  Malcolm popped into the Bistro and brought a coffee back. The young man took off his glasses and stared at Malcolm.

  “Whoa, Dude, you rock.”

  The two men sat in silence drinking coffee.

  “Trampolines should be banned throughout this land?” Malcolm ventured.

  “Um, totally. Missed my plane, missed my cousin’s wedding. Man that was going to be a party!”

  “I won’t shake your hand, because I know any movement would hurt your head, but let me introduce myself; I’m Malcolm Newsome one of the other nurses who was working last night when you came in.”

  The young man started to nod, and then stopped suddenly. “Dude; my head! I had to get out of the house because my roomies were snoring too loud. I’m Anthony,” he added while wincing yet again.

  “Anthony, I think it might be wise to take a break, no pun intended, from drinking. What do you think?”

  “Yeah. It might be. But man, that
was going to be a party! Jessica and Ryan were going camping in Hawaii for their wedding and I was going to be the best man. Now that didn’t happen. Sucks to be me.”

  Malcolm smiled. “I think Jessica and Ryan still had their wedding and went camping in Hawaii. And probably still had a party, even without you. So that’s done. Now, what about you? Is this injury going to affect your job?”

  Anthony groaned dramatically. “Oh man, I didn’t even think of that,” he said sadly.

  “What do you do?” Malcolm asked while checking his watch. He wanted to get home and have a light supper before work.

  Anthony delicately put his coffee down and gently raised his arms and slowly fluttered his fingers.

  “I dance,” he said quietly.

  One of his burly buddies came out of the house with a glass full of a red liquid in one hand and an egg in the other. “Got a little hair of the dog for ya!” he yelled.

  Anthony groaned again. “Bring it on!” he said gruffly.

  Malcolm stood up and said, “Well, I must be off. All the best at your future endeavors in whatever percentage of ethanol they may be.”

  Anthony waved away the egg but downed the glass of spicy tomato and vodka.

  “Dude,” Anthony managed to articulate while gasping for breath.

  ***

  At the Clark home, the talking stick was in Jorja’s hand, poised to strike.

  Chapter Six:

  Or why Queen Bat Crap Crazy was dethroned and Betty Boothe had her butt fired

  “It seems that Frank Noodle has gone walkabout,” Jorja announced, “but otherwise the new extended Family Clark is present. Any unfinished business from last meeting?”

  “No,” Jenny said, “My nails look beautiful.”

  “Therefore and hitherto and so on and so on, we will now press forward to new business.”

  Jorja hit the talking stick on the floor. Frank Noodle let out a plaintive little mew and Miss Stein picked him up and returned him to the nest. Jorja sat frozen on the couch, a worried expression on her face.