What did Zim do in the evening?
Watch TV?
Read?
“You’re not going to feed me dinner?” Zim set gnarled hands on his narrow hips and glared.
“You’re acting like Zuzu,” she pointed out as she headed back to the house. “But I’ll feed you dinner anyway.”
“What are we going to have?” he called.
She didn’t know so she ignored the question and walked inside. The living room was trashed, a fort made of blankets and dining room chairs taking up all the floor space. There wasn’t a cushion left on the couch or love seat. They were probably in the fort, but she didn’t have time to look.
She grabbed the box she’d packed with paper plates, napkins, and a tablecloth and took the old teapot she’d filled with flowers she’d purchased the previous day. White and yellow daisies. A little baby’s breath. Nothing fancy, but the PTA would appreciate the presentation as much as they appreciated the cookies. That mattered when it came to building her business.
She stepped back outside, her arms full, a clock ticking in her head. Or maybe it was the headache pounding behind her eyes that she was hearing. She should have grabbed some aspirin while baking, but she’d been too busy trying to finish the order.
A car pulled up to the curb as she hurried down the porch steps. Dark blue and boxy looking, it wasn’t old enough to be cool and wasn’t new enough to be nice. Charlotte was sure she’d seen it around town. Probably someone wanting to place an order. She didn’t have time, but she could at least get a phone number. She put the box in the back of the station wagon and handed Zim the teapot. “Can you hold these? I don’t want the water to spill.”
“Sure.” He glanced at the car. “What’s Daisy doing here?”
“Daisy?”
“Forester. That’s her car.” He gestured as he got into the seat beside Zuzu. “You’d better tell her you’re too busy to talk. That woman knows how to gab.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” She didn’t have time to visit the library. She barely had time to read. When she did, she usually spent her time perusing old cookbooks. She also had a stash of romance novels hidden in a box under her bed, but there was no way she was going to admit it.
“I noticed. I also noticed that time is ticking away, and we’re still sitting in your driveway. I’m getting kind of hungry waiting, so I hope you’re planning something I like for dinner. Meatloaf maybe. Mashed potatoes. Carrots.” He slammed his door.
Seconds later, Daisy got out of her car, her long black skirt brushing winter-dry grass, her black tennis shoes peeking out as she walked.
“Hi, Charlotte!” she called. “It looks like you’re on the way out.”
“I’m making a delivery.”
“I won’t keep you then.” She stepped behind the station wagon, positioning herself about two feet from the fender.
“Thanks.” Charlotte opened her door in some vain hope that Daisy really didn’t plan to keep her.
“Is that Zim in your car?” Daisy asked, obviously not as anxious to leave as Charlotte was to have her go.
“Yes. He’s helping with this delivery. Which I have to make in just a couple of minutes.”
“Then I’ll get out of your way.”
Please do. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but Daisy continued before she could say them. “First, though, I was wondering if I could place an order.”
“If you call me this afternoon—”
“Not a big one.” Daisy offered a brittle smile and tucked a strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear. “Just a couple of the double chocolate delights.”
Great. Not again.
“I don’t make them any longer, Daisy.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have time to go into it.” Even if she did, she wouldn’t bother. No matter how many times she explained that the cupcakes really didn’t contain a magical potion designed to make every man who tasted them propose, she couldn’t convince the women of Apple Valley. “But I’d be happy to bake a few chocolate cupcakes. Or a couple of my Boston cream. Have you had those?”
“I’m not interested in anything else.” Daisy frowned. “If you don’t have time to bake them, I can do it myself. Just give me the recipe.”
“I don’t give out recipes.” Especially not for those particular cupcakes. The last thing she needed was a line of unhappy female customers outside her house.
“That’s just mean, Charlotte! Everyone knows those cupcakes . . .” She glanced at the car, probably looking to see if Zim was listening. “I really need a double chocolate delight. Just one.”
“I’m sorry, Daisy.” She really kind of was, because poor Daisy looked like she was about to cry. “How about you give me a call tomorrow, and we’ll discuss other options. Right now I have to leave.”
She got into the station wagon and closed the door, hoping beyond all hope that Daisy moved out of the way so she could leave.
She stood right where she’d been, her feet firmly planted, her oversized wool coat bagging around her narrow frame.
“What’s that crazy lady doing?” Zim huffed.
Making Charlotte’s life miserable. That’s what.
“Crazy lady!” Zuzu repeated as Zim rolled down his window and stuck his head out.
“Daisy! What are you doing back there? We’ve got places to go!”
“Fine!” Daisy stalked away.
Charlotte was fairly certain she was mumbling under her breath as she went. Seconds later, the boxy little car peeled away from the curb, leaving a cloud of gray exhaust in its wake.
“Let’s boogie, Charlotte!” Zim demanded.
She put the car in reverse, started to back out of the driveway.
“I have to go potty!” Zuzu shouted.
“Can’t it wait?”
“You’re talking to a three-year-old,” Zim retorted. “If you think she has the kind of bladder control it takes to wait, you just go on ahead and drive to the school.”
Charlotte didn’t want to be late.
She didn’t want to have a pee-soaked car, either.
“Fine.” She slammed on the brake, turned off the ignition, then got back out of the car.
She unhooked Zuzu’s car seat and lifted her.
“Better hurry, Charlotte. Girls her age can’t wait long,” Zim called as she ran back to the house.
Hurry?
That’s all she’d done all day, but no matter how much she hurried, she couldn’t seem to catch up.
Or catch a break.
Not that she’d ever caught one in her life.
It seemed like she’d spent twenty-eight years trying to get somewhere. The problem was, she hadn’t quite figured out where that was or what she was supposed to do once she got there. For a while, she’d thought Brett was the where and the what.
He hadn’t been.
Maybe Apple Valley was. Maybe the little bakery on Main Street was. Or maybe in another year or two she’d move on, find another place and another thing.
Right now all she wanted to do was get Zuzu into the bathroom, get her out, and get going.
Because she was going to get the blasted cookies to the PTA meeting on time, come hell, high water, or potty-trained toddlers!
Giving traffic tickets to crying women wasn’t exactly how Max liked to spend his days. Especially when those crying women were red-faced, red-eyed, and sobbing.
“Calm down, Daisy,” he said as he took the librarian’s license and registration. “Being pulled over isn’t the end of the world.”
“I’ve”—hiccup—“never”—sob—“been . . . pulled over”—hiccup—“before.” She dug through the glove compartment and took out a small package of tissues.
“There’s a first time for everything, and apparently this is it.” He didn’t bother running her license plate. He knew her as well as he knew anyone in town. She wasn’t wanted, didn’t have a record, had never been in any kind of trouble with the law.
“I know, but I j
ust don’t”—sob—“speed.”
“You were going forty-five in a twenty-five-mile-an-hour zone. That’s dangerous, Daisy. Especially with all the houses around. What if a little kid ran out into the street? You wouldn’t have time to stop.” He took out his ticket pad. He didn’t plan to write her more than a warning, but at the sight of the pad and his pen, she wailed so loudly, a few starlings flew from a nearby tree.
“I’m a failure. That’s why Jerry won’t propose!” she cried, her face blotchy and red from tears.
“He won’t propose because you deserve someone better,” Max said truthfully.
That was all it took. The waterworks stopped, and Daisy straightened, her eyes flashing. “I’ll have you know that Jerry is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Just last week he bought me a dozen roses for no reason at all.”
Max was sure there’d been a reason, but he’d said enough. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You just don’t understand, Max. You like to play the field. You want a new woman every weekend, and the women you choose want a new man every day of the week.”
Ouch.
That hurt.
But it was only a slight exaggeration. Even if it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have argued. He didn’t much care what Daisy or anyone else thought of him.
“What’s your point, Daisy?”
“Jerry and I are exclusive. We have been for years.”
Exclusive? She might have been, but Max didn’t think Jerry was. That was another thing Max decided to keep to himself.
“Glad to hear it,” he murmured, trying his best to keep every bit of sarcasm out of his voice.
“We are,” she insisted even though he hadn’t argued. “And Jerry is going to be very upset if I get a ticket. We planned on buying a brand-new high-definition TV. I’m not going to have the money if I have to pay for a ticket.”
“Maybe you should let him come up with the money,” he suggested.
“He would, but he had to quit his part-time job. He’s finishing up his novel.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with a scowl.
“Nothing important.” He ripped a ticket from his pad and handed it to her. “I’m not going to cite you, Daisy. This time. I’m issuing you a warning. If I catch you speeding through town again, you will be cited, though. Keep that in mind the next time you want to fly through town.”
“Just a warning?! Max, you’re a lifesaver!” She smiled, and he was surprised at how pretty and young she looked. He’d pegged her for forty, but the smile made her look a decade younger.
“I’m giving you a break because I’ve never pulled you over before. I won’t be as easy on you next time.” He handed back her ID and registration.
“I understand. Thanks!” She rolled up her window and pulled away, crawling down the street so slowly, he could have pulled her over for creating a hazard. There was no traffic, so he didn’t. Besides, he had to stop by Charlotte’s, check on Zuzu, and drop off the stuff he’d grabbed before he’d gone on the cattle round-up.
That had taken too much of his time.
Not to mention the fact that he now smelled like cow and was covered in dirt and grass stains. He kept another uniform at the office. He’d change when he got back. With any luck, the rest of the evening would be uneventful. Most days that wasn’t what he wanted. He liked a little action. A couple of cases to keep him occupied. Right then, though, all he wanted was a quiet room and a little peace.
He pulled away from the curb, frowning as a station wagon passed going in the opposite direction. Not just any station wagon, either. Charlotte’s beat-up 1969 Chevy was easy to recognize, the dull green paint and rusting body a dead giveaway. It chugged toward the town center, and he pulled in behind it.
She must be making a delivery. Wherever she was headed, he’d follow, give her the clothes, explain his schedule, and, of course, check on the kid. Zuzu would probably take one look at him and start screaming her head off. He seemed to have that effect on her. Apparently whatever charm he had when it came to women didn’t work when it came to little girls.
Not a big surprise. Emma had been right. He wasn’t a kid kind of person. As far as he could see, there wasn’t a whole lot of use in having children. Sure, some people wanted to be parents. They claimed to have some innate need to procreate and produce a little mini-me or two.
Max wasn’t one of those people. His parents had done a piss-poor job of raising him, and he damn sure didn’t want to do the same to his own kid. Besides, he preferred freedom to responsibility. The way his life was, if he wanted to take a weekend trip to Seattle or book a flight to Los Angeles, he could do it without worrying about leaving anyone behind.
At least up until the previous night he’d been able to do that. He’d planned to take a couple of days off when Cade returned. Unless Morgan came back or he shipped the kid to Las Vegas to be with her, that wasn’t going to happen.
Then again, he could take Zuzu to her mother, drop her off, spend a night or two enjoying the Las Vegas strip.
He liked that idea.
The station wagon turned into the parking lot of Apple Valley Elementary School. He followed it around to the delivery door at the back of the building. A few cars were scattered in the back lot, the playground and field beyond it empty. School was out for the weekend, the kids playing sports or participating in other wholesome activities. During his elementary school years, Max had been more into pilfering soap and shampoo from the corner 7-Eleven or snagging loose change from his mother’s wallet so he could buy lunch at school than he was into reading textbooks or engaging in team sports. He hadn’t had time to be a child. He’d been too busy trying to survive.
Charlotte hurried around to the back of the station wagon, shooting a quick smile in his direction. A bright pink apron hugged her slim waist and a black long-sleeved T-shirt pulled taut over full firm breasts. She had the kind of body men drooled over, and he’d seen more than one local guy make a fool of himself over Charlotte. She never seemed to notice. She opened the back of the station wagon and leaned in to grab something. She had a nice ass. Pert and round and just about perfect. He’d noticed it before. What man in Apple Valley hadn’t? But he wasn’t into ogling women unless they wanted to be ogled. Charlotte was definitely not the type that enjoyed long lingering looks.
He got out of the cruiser as she lifted a tray of cookies.
“Need help?” he offered, taking the tray before she could respond.
“Not unless you’re here to get Zuzu. In which case I’ll take all the help you want to give,” she responded. No smile.
“Has the kid been screaming all day?” he guessed.
“No, but between her and Zim, I’m having trouble staying on schedule.” She glanced at her watch and frowned. “I have about seven minutes to get the table set up for teacher appreciation day.”
“Then I guess you do need my help. Since I’m working a double and can’t pick up the kid, I’ll give you a hand setting up.”
“Great,” she muttered, lifting a second tray. “What time will you be done tonight?”
“Eleven.”
“I usually do all my prep work in the evening. How am I supposed to get that done with Zuzu and Zim under my feet?” She sounded appalled and looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pallid. She’d forgotten her coat. Not good when the sun was going down, the temperature dropping. He would have taken his off and dropped it around her shoulders, but she was already hurrying to the building.
He glanced in the station wagon, saw Zimmerman Beck sitting in the backseat holding a teapot filled with flowers. Great. Perfect. The guy had a mouth, and he loved to use it. He’d be talking nonstop about little Zuzu from now until the cows came home.
Max tapped on the back window, and Zim rolled it down and put a finger to his lips.
“Shhhhh! The little one is asleep,” he whispered. “Best to let her stay that way
.”
Max peered past the elderly man. Sure enough. Zuzu was out like a light, her eyes closed, her lips pursed, her thumb hanging just to the right of her mouth. She must have been sucking it when she fell asleep. She still had no shoes and no coat, but she didn’t look like she was about to die from kidney failure. That was good.
“I have some clothes and things for her in the cruiser. I’ll get them after I help Charlotte.”
“I hope the stuff you brought includes a coat and shoes. It’s a poor excuse for a father who forgets important things like that,” Zim huffed, his rheumy blue eyes filled with judgment.
“I’m not a father,” Max pointed out. He didn’t owe Zim an explanation, so he didn’t add that he’d never laid eyes on the kid until the previous night or that her loser of a mother had dropped her off so she could interview for a job.
“That’s for sure,” Zim replied, thrusting the teapot into Max’s free hand and rolling up the window with a speed that defied the guy’s advancing age.
He’d been dismissed, so Max set the teapot in a box filled with napkins and plates, set the tray on top and carried it to the building. Bitter wind whipped through his coat and sliced through his uniform slacks. Zim was right. No father worth his salt would forget a child’s coat on such a cold day. Not that Max had forgotten. He just hadn’t had time to wrestle Zuzu into it. A blanket had seemed like a better solution. He probably should have grabbed shoes to go with it, but he hadn’t. Which was exactly why he wasn’t and never would be a father.
The delivery door swung open as he approached and Charlotte appeared, her glossy brown ponytail sliding in a silky rope across her shoulders. She looked pretty and just a little frazzled as she gestured for him to hurry.
“They’re almost ready, Max. We’ve got to run.”
“It’s what? A PTA meeting? I’m sure they can wait for a couple of minutes.”
“No, they can’t,” she snapped. “I promised the table would be set up at four-thirty. It is now”—she glanced at her watch—“four twenty-six. That gives me exactly four minutes to get things ready.”
“What happens if you take five? Is the school going to implode?” he joked, and then wished he hadn’t.
The Cottage on the Corner Page 7