Jorja & Malcolm (Toffee Kisses Book 1)

by Shelley Siddall

  Anthony was one of those fortunate people who thought in pictures. He remembered how Mrs. Beetle had slurred her way through a story about Mr. Beetle. Slowly, Anthony saw them dancing, then quickly aging. He watched Mr. Beetle as he crumbled to dust and Mrs. Beetle as she drove her wheelchair round and round the pile of ashes.

  “That is so beautiful,” he sobbed to the Matador. “I should write a musical and call it ‘dancing and dust’.”

  The Matador pointed out that ‘dancing and dust’ would be a horrid musical indeed and would be a turkey from the get-go.

  Of course Anthony didn’t listen to him. He hobbled over to his keyboard, pressed record and started plunking away. The Matador continued to look over his shoulder most disapprovingly.

  The Clark family were each enjoying a glass of wine.

  “I would call a family meeting,” Jenny began, “but I just don’t want to talk that fast and I’m not feeling overly clever so my normal witty repartee would be lacking.”

  Crawford sighed. “Goodbye to the Wit brothers, then. Goodbye Half; goodbye Nit!”

  Jenny slowly reviewed the names in her head. “Let’s not forget about Dim. Or was his last name Sum? But, back to our darling daughter; Jorja, why did it take you months to figure out that you want to be a Nurse?”

  “I may have exaggerated my consideration time. But, as you know, I tend to be a bit squeamish…”

  “And yet, you love Sushi!” Crawford said with a grin.

  “And you handled the birth of the kittens well,” Jenny pointed out.

  Jorja took another sip of her wine and sighed deeply.

  “I have to do things to a fetal pig in order to pass Grade 12 Biology,” she said and then stuck out her tongue at the thought.

  Jenny, in a show of solidarity, stuck out her tongue as well.

  “More wine!” demanded Crawford.

  “Ooh!” said Jorja nodding. “I shall just have to drink several bottles of wine before the dissection and I should be fine!”

  “There you go! Problem solved,” Jenny laughed.

  “Also,” Jorja added, “There’s the whole problem of leadership. I’m not really comfortable with bossing people around.” She looked at her parents seriously. “You know, telling people to do things for me because I want to do something else.”

  Jenny looked at Jorja’s blue bathing suit drying over the rail. Shortly after she had received Jorja’s cryptic call, Jenny had washed the salt out of the suit and hung it to dry.

  “Sure,” Jenny said, “I could see where that would be a problem.”

  William Street had managed to track down the law firm that handled the Newsome’s will and he was talking to the Senior Partner when Connie walked in with her packages.

  “The claim against the Estate was denied seven years ago?” William asked. He listened then started laughing. “Oh that is perfect, absolutely perfect! I think I can get that for you. Thanks again!”

  “Do we know who’s who in the trust fund zoo?” Connie said smiling.

  “Not yet; but if Malcolm presents himself to the offices of Galbraith and McPhee, and spits into a tube; the trust fund is quite likely his!” William said.

  “His parents put their DNA profiles on record?”

  William laughed. “A condition of the inheritance; the beneficiary must provide a DNA sample, in person, any time after his twenty-first birthday. Someone attempted to mail a copy of a profile, however…”

  He started to launch into the details, but Connie held up her hand.

  “Do you see this sweet little outfit?” she asked, unwrapping café au lait colored lingerie.

  William nodded slowly.

  “You should know it has a matching pair of wings.”

  Malcolm flew out of bed the next morning, changed and raced over to the Clark’s for coffee. Jorja greeted him with a kiss and a large cappuccino.

  As the rest of the household was sleeping, Jorja whispered, “Okay, I’m in my bathing suit and flip flops.”

  “I can see that. You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks Thurston, but where to next?” Jorja asked impatiently as she waved her hand to encourage Malcolm to drink faster.

  Malcolm grabbed her hand and whispered back, “Turns out that the glue for the S.S. Minnow isn’t waterproof; so that trip is on hold, but fortunately, the kayaks are sea-worthy vessels!”

  Jorja squeaked with joy and ran past Malcolm and down the stairs. She continued to run down to the beach. Malcolm easily kept up with her by loping along in a slow jog.

  “What do you mean I have to take my skirt off?” Jorja asked the instructor after he had demonstrated a barrel roll several times.

  “Your spray skirt.” The instructor reached over with his paddle. “This part of your kayak. But that’s only if you do an incomplete roll and want to do a wet exit.”

  “This is going to be awesome!” Jorja yelled. “Okay, so let’s give it a whirl! First, I put my paddle alongside and… over I go!”

  Jorja rolled her kayak over, paused as she hung upside down in the ocean, then drove her knee up, swept out her paddle blade and rolled upright.

  Malcolm was so shocked he couldn’t speak.

  “That was a gas!” Jorja spluttered. “But I have to remember to stop talking whilst underwater!” Jorja did another barrel roll. “Whoo hoo!” she yelled. “Malcolm, your turn!”

  “No, not today,” Malcolm said.

  Jorja looked at Malcolm’s fractured smile. “What’s going on sweetheart?” she asked.

  Malcolm looked at Jorja.

  “Cousin, swimming pool,” he muttered. “I actually have this thing about not being able to put my head under water,” he confessed.

  “Oh Malcolm, your frightened!”

  “Not frightened really, just a little terrified.”

  Jorja smiled sadly, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means. Why would you take me kayaking on our first date if you’re terrified of the water?”

  “I knew you would love learning to kayak.”

  “You are wonderful. Let’s go for a slow paddle by Stories beach and see what’s going on with those stumps Mom was talking about,” Jorja suggested.

  “This is nice,” Malcolm said later as they paddled along smoothly. “It’s like flying on the water. We should do this again. Who knows? In a few decades we might take up synchronized barrel rolling and enter the Olympics!”

  “Can’t,” said Jorja, “We’ll be at Pumpkin Pie’s graduation.”

  “I don’t know what you just said Jorja, but I don’t care; I’m having a surprisingly wonderful time!”

  “Me too! But I’m ready for breakfast. Mango smoothies?”

  Malcolm and Jorja giggled as they walked up the stairs to the Clark home.

  Malcolm said, “If I wasn’t so terrified, I would have laughed. When you were under water I could see the air bubbles coming up to the surface and I thought, she’s probably still talking!”

  “And I was!” Jorja shrieked.

  Shortly after the blender was turned on, Jenny and Crawford came stumbling into the kitchen.

  “What is that racket?” Jenny asked as Miss Stein and the kids voiced their opinions about their rude awakening.

  “No charge for the wake-up call!” Jorja said happily as she dashed upstairs to change for the next phase of their first date.

  Betty Boothe was flipping through a ledger she had found in her nephew’s room. “I have to show Marion this,” she thought. “If she’s strong enough to go shopping with her oxygen tank strapped to the back of her power chair, then she can handle this. Even if she can’t, well, she’s in a nursing home; the Nurses can take care of her if something, um, untoward happens.”

  “Eighty-eight,” Jorja said as she sat at Miss Carol’s piano. “There are eighty-eight keys and the black keys alternate in groups of two and three.”

  Miss Carol clapped her hands and whipped out a sheet of gold stars, peeled one off and stuck it to Jorja’s forehead.

&nbs
p; “My, aren’t you a clever girl,” Miss Carol cooed.

  Jorja was desperately trying not to burst out laughing when Malcolm said, “Miss Carol’s regular students are quite a bit younger.”

  Jorja tried to look serious but quickly looked at Malcolm and crossed her eyes as she attempted to look at her gold star. “How come there’s only one black key way down here on the left?”

  “Because there is,” said Miss Carol. “Now, let’s review the rules so far. How many cheeks on the piano bench?”

  “Both of them at all times. And I should never attempt to play the piano with my feet or my chin,” Jorja dutifully recited. She pouted when she did not receive a second gold star.

  “Now let’s learn an important note; one every child should know!”

  “Middle C?” Malcolm asked but only received a frown from his neighbor.

  “Pig Squeal!” Miss Carol gushed. “Young Mozart was only two when he heard a pig squeal and yelled out G sharp! I’ve just loved that note ever since!”

  “You knew Mozart?” Jorja asked.

  “Danger Will Robinson,” Malcolm said sotto voce, “You’re going to get that shiny thing peeled off your forehead!

  Despite her impertinence, Jorja had managed to collect two more stars. One for keeping her bottom on the bench and one for promising to practice the piano every day.

  At the Sushi place, Jorja was feeling guilty about her promise.

  “I don’t even have a piano!” she said to Malcolm as she shovelled more dynamite rolls in her mouth.

  “I know. I feel terribly guilty too,” Malcolm confessed, “I haven’t dumped olive oil on your head yet and I promised Kyle I would!” Malcolm feigned worry. “I hoped I used his name wisely there!”

  “Did I tell you? I saw Kyle and his family yesterday. He has the cutest kids!”

  “Speaking of children, do you want them?” Malcolm asked while he busied himself pushing his sushi around on his plate.

  “Thanks for the offer, Hi McDunnough, but I think Kyle and his girlfriend might object if I take their children,” said Jorja as she absent-mindedly speared straight wasabi and stuck it her mouth. She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes watered and she got up and shook her shoulders in a kind of twitching motion. When Jorja could speak again, she gasped “I’m a Wasabi Warrior!”

  Malcolm persisted. “So children, yay or nay?”

  Jorja looked at her remaining sushi roll. “I think I would like one of my daughters to be named after this seaweed. Little Nori Newsome! Doesn’t that sound great Malcolm?”

  Malcolm choked on air. “It sounds surprisingly great, Jorgie girl. I wonder if most couples start naming their children on the first date.”

  Jorja reached over and held Malcolm’s hands. “We’re not most couples, Thurston. We’re running a business together, albeit we are just up twenty-five cents, we’ve had a mind meld and we’ve gone kayaking together.”

  “And we both like toffee.”

  “Very much.”

  “Alrighty then,” Malcolm said as he played the drums on the table. “Our firstborn daughter will be called Nori, but she’ll always be seaweed to me.”

  “Goof.”

  “Maybe I can re-train as a Floral Designer?” Amanda wondered as she watched Dustin pack the picnic supper their family was taking to the outdoor movie that evening.

  “Maybe I can re-train as a Karate Instructor,” said Maisy as she kicked the recliner foot rest. It closed with a clunk and a snap. Sasha opened up with a yell.

  “Mom, she kicked my chair!”

  “Did not! I karate chopped it with my foot!”

  “You can’t karate chop with your foot!”

  “Can too!”

  Amanda walked in the living room. She looked at her two perfect little twins. Maisy was wearing her jeans with the ballerina skirt, while Sasha was wearing her cow onesie.

  “So, we’re all settled then? These are the clothes you are wearing tonight?”

  Sasha rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I might add a hat; there are a lot of hats in the movie.”

  “Cows don’t wear hats!” her Sister protested.

  “Do too!”

  “Do not!”

  Dustin sighed as Amanda returned to the kitchen. “I might re-train as a referee,” he said.

  “This is just a basic country two step,” Instructor Helmut stated to the group in the auditorium. He introduced his wife, Lucie and they proceeded to demonstrate the dance.

  “Slow, slow, quick quick,” Helmut intoned. “You see, very simple. I step forward left, she steps back right. Then, slow slow, quick quick.”

  Jorja whispered to Malcolm, “I have to dance backwards? Cool!”

  Malcolm and Jorja attempted to imitate what they had just seen. Malcolm kept pace by repeating, “Slow slow, quick quick.”

  “I feel like a dipstick,” Jorja added.

  “We can go Jorgie, if you’re not having fun,” Malcolm said.

  “It’s just that I’m a tad overdressed. When we stopped home again for a change of wardrobe, you just said to wear something for a dance lesson. I thought tango…” she said as she pointed to her knee length red dress with the revealing side slit, “Why oh why did you not say something at the time?”

  “You just looked so beautiful!”

  Jorja smiled. “Yes I did,” she said.

  “And you are the most beautiful woman here!” Malcolm added.

  “Well, at least I wore leggings. I was a little unsure about the leg wrap around maneuver in the tango, so I erred on the side of modesty in order not startle the masses.”

  The Instructors danced by and both admonished Jorja and Malcolm, “Slow slow, quick quick!”

  “Do you think there was a sale on plaid?” Malcolm asked.”

  “Quite likely. We should go and check it out before they’ve sold out.”

  The young couple turned and bowed to the group, then tangoed out of the auditorium.

  “They’re back again!” Jenny yelled to Crawford. He came in the kitchen and looked out the window.

  “Our girl has had more costume changes then the girls in Charlie’s Angels!” he said bemused.

  Jenny arched an eyebrow. “You noticed that did you?” she asked, slightly bemused herself. “Apparently Malcolm wanted to keep each event a mystery, so he didn’t tell Jorja until the last minute. Personally, I would’ve told her to pack a suitcase and be done with it.”

  Crawford laughed. “You would not; you’ve been enjoying this date as it is unfolding. Go on, admit it Jenny my love.”

  “You, my love, are smarter than the average bear!” she said.

  “Well, I’ve got the pic-a-nic basket, Boo Boo!”

  “What are they doing out there?”

  “Kissing. And for some reason the trunk of Malcolm’s car is open and it looks like a vacuum is in there.”

  ***

  The turnout at the ‘Movie under the Stars’ event was the largest one to date. Even the Glenrosa Nursing Home had a substantial presence with a bus load of residents. Little groups dotted the lawn in the park as they watched the old favorite.

  The Clarks had a clear view of the screen where the former flower girl was attending her first outing at Ascot.

  Jorja was resting her head on Malcolm’s chest as they lay on their blanket.

  “It’s been quite the week,” she said sleepily.

  “If you had to sum it up in one sentence what would you say?” Malcolm said as he tried to stifle a yawn.

  Suddenly, Jorja sat up and shouted with the rest of the audience.

  “Come on Dover, move your bloomin’ arse!”

  “That is actually quite a perfect summation!” laughed Malcolm. “If you were to substitute Malcolm for Dover, that is.”

  “So, what’s on your mind, handsome?”

  “In four to six weeks, hopefully bangs. But really, what’s on your mind my dearest Jorja?”

  “The pig, of course, and…”

  “Of course.”
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br />   Jorja continued to watch something going on behind Malcolm’s back.

  “And… do you think Mrs. Beetle is intending to roll down the hill in her wheelchair?”

  “Good gravy Woman!”

  The end

  About The Author

  Shelley Dawn Siddall was hatched about 60 years ago and has been cracking up ever since.

  She has been divorced, widowed and is now married to the love of her life for 24 years.

  Clearly, she is a realistic romantic!

  She often gives away free advice and she graciously accepts its frequent return.

  Her advice for today: "Never marry a man with a waist smaller than yours because if he can't feed himself, how the heck is he going to feed you?"

  If you liked Jorja and Malcolm’s story or want to stay up to day with Shelley then check out her Facebook page

  @ShelleyDawnSiddallAuthor