by Gayle Roper
“Whoa,” Streeter said, his frustration evident even through the phone. “I’m suffering from option overload here. I’ll never sort it all out.”
“Sure you will. I’ll help. If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet with you sometime soon.”
“You do understand that we can’t pay you?” Streeter’s voice was apologetic. “I’m not even sure we can pay our office workers next week.”
Dan felt sorry for the man, forced to admit to a problem he hadn’t created. “I’m not expecting payment. I’m doing this for Andy.”
“Well, then come anytime,” Streeter said, clearly wanting him there in the next five minutes.
Dan laughed. “I think it would be a wise idea to give you time to answer your questions before I come. How about next Monday?”
“I’ll be expecting you.”
Dan hung up and punched the air with excitement. What a great call. He had to find Cass and tell her all about it. Oh, and write to Andy too.
Twenty-Two
WELL, HI, MOM,” Cass said in surprise as Charlotte Merton walked into the kitchen that evening, carrying a woven basket in her hand. Cass was paring potatoes for dinner, the peels forming a small mountain where they fell in the near corner of the sink.
“Hello, Cassandra Marie.” Mom held out her old-fashioned market basket, an antique that Cass coveted. It was made of sturdy saplings, a deep basket with flowers painted on one side beneath the coat of varnish that gave the thing a faint shine. “I brought you some goodies.”
“Wonderful!” Cass grinned as she rinsed the last potato and put it in the pan. She set the pan on the stove to boil. “Is there a reason for this largesse?”
Mom shrugged. “Does there need to be a reason?”
Cass reached for a paper towel from the roll hanging on the wall beside the sink. She dried her hands. “Of course not.”
“Well, I’ll give you two anyway. One, I love you. Two, you work so hard, I thought I’d give you a hand.”
She pulled a plastic quart container from the basket and held it out for Cass to see. “Applesauce.” She set the container and the basket on the table and shrugged out of her coat. She tossed it on one of the love seats in the sitting area.
“Applesauce?” Cass’s eyes lit, and she reached for the container. “Your own? Oh, it’s still warm.”
“Of course it’s my own.” Mom looked insulted. “Why would I bring you anyone else’s?”
“Good question,” Cass murmured, feigning remorse. “It just slipped out. Sorry.”
Mom nodded, mollified, and placed four more identical containers on the counter. Next she pulled out a pie covered with aluminum foil. She looked at Cass. “Apple. My own,” she said, but a small smile robbed the words of any sting.
Cass grinned, still hugging the warm container of applesauce. “Why would you bring me anyone else’s?”
The women grinned at each other, and Cass felt the joy of having her mother, her genuine, unadulterated, intellectually aware mother, here in her kitchen with her. It was a sweet moment.
“Is Dad with you?”
Mom shook her head. “He’s home starting dinner. If you can believe it, he’s gotten it into his head that he wants to learn to cook. Now I ask you, why should a man his age want to become the next Emeril?”
“I don’t know,” Cass said, though she did know, visions of seared hamburgers and burning Bakelite reminding her. “But if I were you, I’d let him have at it. After all your years of cooking, I’d think it would be wonderful to be relieved of the duty every so often.”
Mom nodded. “There is that. And I guess it will be better if he ever gets the hang of it. I’ve eaten more scorched eggs and under-cooked hamburgers recently than ever in my life.” She peered at the mountain of browning peels in the sink. “Why in the world are you peeling so many potatoes?”
Cass stared at the peels and the pan full of cooking potatoes and shrugged. “Because they eat a lot.”
“What? You’re cooking dinner for guests these days?”
“If you can call Jared and Jenn guests. Jared eats like no one I’ve ever seen. He puts the brothers to shame, and I remember them always feeding their faces.” Cass wasn’t about to mention Dan’s name. She knew her mother’s shameless matchmaking tendencies too well. If Mom knew he now ate dinner with them every night, there’d be no peace in the valley.
“It’s that football,” Mom said. “I never did think it was good for a boy to get himself jumped on and knocked to the ground by other big boys who want to hurt him if they can. Then he does it back to them. And they all do this to each other for two hours or so.” She shook her head. “It’s a man thing, and it doesn’t make sense.”
Cass, who loved to watch football, kept quiet. The subject of the wisdom or foolishness of the sport had been debated to death in the Merton house as the brothers and Cass grew, and Mom always lost. She never let that little fact influence her opinion one iota.
Cass lowered the heat under the potatoes and opened the oven door to check on the rump roast inside. As soon as the potatoes were parboiled, they’d go in with the roast to brown. Carrots and onions already circled the meat, adding their aroma to the delicious scent filling the air.
The back door burst open, and Jared and Paulie exploded into the room.
“Whoa! Does it smell good in here.” Paulie sniffed the air with pleasure.
“Hey, Grandmom!” Jared gave Mom a bear hug.
Mom batted ineffectually at his back. “Let go of me, boy. I like to breathe.”
Jared stepped back, grinning. “You remember Paulie, don’t you, Grandmom?”
Mom smiled at Jared’s friend. “Certainly. It’s good to see you again, Paulie.”
“Hi, Ms. Merton.” Paulie’s eyes brightened, and he looked from Mom to Cass. “Hey, Ms. Merton and Ms. Merton!”
“So clever,” said a sarcastic voice from the stairs. “So very clever.”
As everyone swung toward Jenn, Paulie’s face turned scarlet.
“Jenn,” Cass said, warning in her voice. Jenn could be as peeved at the boys as she wanted, but she couldn’t be nasty, hurtful.
When every eye was fixed on her, Jenn looked first at her brother, then at Paulie, sniffed with utter disdain, turned, and went slowly upstairs.
“Well!” said Mom, staring after Jenn. “I can see she hasn’t gotten over whatever was bothering her yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it, Grandmom,” Jared said, investigating the containers on the table. He lifted the aluminum foil off the pie and nudged Paulie. “Apple. The best. Jenn’s mad at Paulie and me because she thinks we ruined her date Saturday night.”
“Did you?” Mom reached into her basket and pulled out two large plastic zipper bags bulging with chocolate chip cookies.
“It needed to be ruined,” Paulie said earnestly, his eyes on the cookies. “The guy’s a jerk.”
Mom looked at Cass for confirmation.
“A jerk,” Cass agreed. “Big time.”
Mom looked at the two bags of cookies. “I brought these two to give one to Jared—”
“Yes,” he said, extending his hand.
“—and Jenn. But I think I’ve changed my mind.” She put one bag in Jared’s outstretched hand and offered the other to Paulie. “For helping stave off the jerk.”
“For me?” A huge grin filled his face. “Really?”
“If you don’t take them,” Jared said, “I will.”
Paulie took the bag and held it to his nose. “They smell wonderful! Thanks, Ms. Merton.”
Cass enjoyed the boy’s delight. “Want to stay for dinner?”
“Can I?” He looked toward the stairs. “I mean, should I? Jenn might not be willing to sit at the same table with me.”
Cass shrugged. “That’s her problem. As far as I’m concerned, there’s room and food for all.”
“Then, sure. I’m in.”
Mom reached into her magic basket and pulled out another bag of cookies. “Now where’s
that nice Dan? He’s still here, isn’t he?”
Cass peered into the basket. It was empty. “None for me?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Mom said.
Jared and Paulie, hands inside their cookie bags, grinned at Cass. They each pulled out a cookie, nicely browned, full of chocolate morsels and, if Cass knew her mother, crispy all the way through, just the way she liked them.
She eyed the boys, trying to make them feel guilty because they had cookies and she didn’t. They munched away, untouched by so much as a thought of her suffering. Conceding defeat, she held out her hand, going for overt pressure. “Aren’t you going to offer me one?”
“Oh.” Jared grimaced at what was obviously a new and unpleasant idea. “Sure.” He extended his bag with all the enthusiasm of a kid forced to share his blue M&M’s. “Have one.”
“Oops, sorry, Ms. Merton.” Paulie held out his bag. “Take as many as you want.”
Cass took two from each bag, knowing they wouldn’t make a dent in the supply.
She set them carefully on the counter, saving them for dessert. She glanced at her mother and said with mock seriousness, “At least some people are kind enough to care for my sweet tooth.”
Mom ignored the comment and repeated, “Where’s that nice Dan?” She glanced around the kitchen and sitting area as if she expected him to pop out from behind the love seat or from under the table. “He’s such a handsome man, don’t you think, Cass?”
Cass turned to the refrigerator and blindly pulled out the first bag of frozen vegetables she touched. She grabbed a pan from the cabinet under the ovens, making as much noise as she possibly could, and filled it with water. Her theory—if you ignore the question, it will go away—had never before worked with her mother, but it was always worth a try, especially since she couldn’t think of any other way to change the subject.
The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Dan in front of Jared and Paulie. The next to the last thing she wanted to do was discuss him with her mother under any circumstances. Her feelings for him were too tender, too complicated.
“They run together every morning,” Jared told Mom with a sly smile at Cass.
“I should have taken five cookies,” she told him.
“He gave her roses for her birthday,” Paulie added helpfully.
“Everybody gave me those roses,” Cass corrected.
“But they were his idea,” Jared said. “So was the bracelet.”
“What bracelet?” Mom wanted to know.
With a sigh, Cass held out her arm. “This one.”
“Very pretty,” Mom said as she examined the butterfly and key. “And very expensive.”
“Mom!” Cass protested, pulling her arm back.
“Bet you haven’t taken it off since you got it. Bet you even sleep in it.”
Cass rolled her eyes. Mom was incorrigible.
“He winked when he gave it to her,” Jared said. “She blushed.”
“When was this?” Mom asked.
“On her birthday.” Jared pulled another cookie from his bag. “He had dinner sent in from Dante’s, the fancy side.”
“Filet mignon with crab imperial,” Paulie offered, glad to be able to contribute.
Cass looked at him. How did he know? He wasn’t even here.
“Tell me more, boys.” Mom pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
“They played one-on-one last night after dinner,” Jared told her.
“In the dark,” Paulie added. “Just the two of them.”
“Someone has a really big mouth.” Cass stared at Jared who grinned unrepentantly back.
“In the dark,” Mom repeated, looking at Cass with eyes full of speculation. “Just the two of them.”
“He guarded her very closely,” Jared offered. “Very closely.”
“Jared!” Cass knew her face was scarlet and her privacy gone forever.
“He came to the football game with her on Saturday,” Paulie said. “And he doesn’t even know anyone from Seaside but us.” He pointed to Jared and himself.
“They go for walks on the boardwalk.” Jared bit into another cookie. “Lots of walks.”
Mom pointed to the cookie. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”
“Fat chance,” Cass said.
“And,” Jared said, his tone implying the best was about to come. “He eats breakfast and dinner with us. For all I know, they eat lunch together too.”
“Well, I never!” Mom flopped back in her chair as though she couldn’t believe her ears.
Three sets of eyes fixed on Cass who kept from squirming only by sheer force of will. “I hope you like Brussels sprouts, Paulie.”
Paulie wrinkled his nose. “Anything you fix will be fine, I’m sure,” he said politely and with obvious untruth.
“I like them,” a deep voice said as Dan pushed open the swinging door and poked his head in the room.
Cass jumped and stared nervously at him as Jared, Paulie, and her mother grinned like conspirators with secret information. It was bad enough that she had to worry about them blurting out what she’d thought was privileged information. But what if he had actually heard some or all of the conversation before the Brussels sprouts? If he had, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
“You eating with us again, Paulie?” Dan asked as he let the door swing shut behind him.
“Us, huh?” Mom said as she peered around Paulie to see Dan.
Dan leaned for a better view of Mom and said, “Good evening, Charlotte. How are you today?”
“Fine, just fine.”
Cass felt a keen relief. He gave no sign of having heard anything.
Mom held out the last bag of cookies. “Here. These are for you.”
“Yeah?” Dan was obviously pleased. “Thanks. That’s very nice of you.”
Cass grinned to herself. He had no idea how special it was to be included in one of Mom’s baking frenzies. Nothing spelled acceptance quite as clearly.
Mom shrugged. “Nice things for nice people.”
Dan unzipped the bag, took an appreciative breath, and held it out to Cass. “Want a bite?” He smiled at her, one corner of his mouth quirking higher than the other.
She smiled back, the pan of potatoes she’d just taken from the stove forgotten as their eyes locked.
“You’re going to spill,” Mom warned, her voice dry.
Cass started, pulling her attention from Dan to the tilting pan. Blushing, she turned to the sink and drained off the water. When she finally turned from placing the potatoes in the roasting pan, she felt she could deal with all the grinning faces.
Then Dan held a cookie out for her to take a bite. One bite was already missing, and blushing at the heady intimacy of sharing in front of everyone, she took a delicate nibble.
“I said a bite.” Dan continued to hold the cookie. “A big one.” He gave her a little lift of his chin, a go-ahead signal, and waved the cookie beneath her nose.
Cass grabbed his wrist to hold it still and bit, her teeth just missing his fingers, enjoying his momentary look of alarm.
With half the cookie in her mouth, she closed her eyes to savor the wonderful taste. “Mmm. Wonderful, Mom.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Dan. “Thanks.” That was when she realized she was still holding his wrist. She released him quickly while Jared snickered and Mom preened like the proud mama she was.
Cass grabbed one of the containers of applesauce and upended it into a dish. She sprinkled a dash of cinnamon on it.
“Dinner looks good and smells better,” Dan said as he zipped his cookie bag shut. “Can’t spoil my appetite. Cass is too good a cook.”
With a happy sigh, Mom walked to the love seat where she rescued her coat from beneath Glossy Flossie and slipped it on. “I’ve got to go home and see if Lew’s burned down the house yet.”
At Dan’s look of surprise, Mom said, “He’s teaching himself to cook. He even watches the food network, if you can believe it.”
Cass
linked her arm through her mother’s. “I’m going to walk Mom to her car.” She looked at Jared and Paulie who looked innocently back. “In the meantime, you guys set the table and put on beverages for everyone. Don’t forget the napkins.” She smirked. “It’s the least you traitors can do.”
Dan grinned at the unenthusiastic boys. “It’ll all be done before you return,” he promised. “Right, guys?”
“Right,” Paulie said. Jared just shrugged.
Cass and her mother closed the door and walked companionably to Mom’s car, parked in front of Cass’s garage.
“He’s a wonderful man, Cassandra Marie.” Mom kissed Cass on the cheek. “I’m so happy for you.”
Cass merely nodded. She still had no intention of talking about Dan with her mother. Anything she said would be family fodder well before bedtime tonight. She shuddered when she thought of Mom’s version of the evening’s earlier conversation zinging over the phone lines from here to Colorado. Tommy and Rhonda would get an e-mail version.
Mom slid into the driver’s seat. “It’s a good thing I’ve got my spies to tell me what’s going on, that’s all I can say.”
“Thanks for the applesauce and pie. Nobody does it better than you.”
“When Jenn’s over her pique, I bet she’ll be an even better source.”
Cass hesitated a minute, then caved in to the inevitable. “Mom, he’s wonderful, all I could ever want. But he’s not staying.” She waved her hand at SeaSong. “And I’m not going.”
Mom looked thoughtful but said nothing.
Cass shrugged. She felt brittle, fragile. “I’ve lived without him for forty years, and I—” She swallowed and forced herself to say it. “I can live without him for forty more.”
Mom looked at her with much too much understanding. “Cassandra Marie, the question isn’t can you live without him. Of course you can. People live without those they love all the time due to illness or catastrophe or death. You are very competent and have proven yourself many times over the past forty years. You can live without Dan. The real question is do you want to live without him.”