"Sure."
His grandfather had no sooner left when the doorbell rang.
He couldn't stop the sudden jolt of anticipation that ran through him. He wasn't expecting any workers today, so he was guessing there was only one person who could be on the other side of that door. He just wasn't sure he was ready to see her.
The bell rang again, reminding him that Juliette was stubborn and persistent.
"I know you're in there, Roman," she called out.
He took off his gloves and opened the door, his pulse racing a little faster as his gaze ran down her body. She wore jeans better than anyone he'd ever met, with curves in all the right places. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her blue eyes bright, her cheeks as pink as her soft, clingy sweater.
"What took you so long?" she asked.
"I had my hands full," he said, shoving those hands in his pockets before he could do something far more dangerous with them.
She held up the plastic container in her hands. "I still have my hands full, unless you're willing to help me out."
"What's in that?"
"Wish cookies. Cameron and his grandmother ate yours last night, so I brought you some more."
"I'm really not a big fan of cookies."
"Eat these and I dare you to say that again."
He took the container out of her hands. "I suppose you want to come in."
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I want to talk to you about Cameron."
"I figured." He stepped back as she moved past him.
She paused in the middle of the hallway. "You got rid of the closet."
"It opens up the living room."
"I can see that," she said tightly.
"It's just a closet, Juliette. Nothing stays the same."
"Believe me, I know that as well as anyone," she said, a sharper edge to her voice. When she turned to look at him, there was pain in her eyes along with a question. "Have you ever gone home…to wherever you lived before you came here as a teenager?"
"No."
"Have you ever thought about it?"
"I didn't leave a happy house like you did. I don't have memories of a place where life was wonderful."
"Really? Nothing in your life with your mom was good?" she asked tentatively. "No memories that were sweet?"
"Sweet, huh?" he asked with a frown. "I don't think so." But even as he said the words, flashes of his mom smiling, laughing, running along the beach as she tried to launch a kite into the air went through his head.
"There's something," Juliette said with a triumphant smile. "I can see it in your eyes. What was it?"
"It was nothing."
"It was a memory that wasn't bad."
"We were flying kites on the beach."
"What beach?"
"Santa Monica. We lived in Los Angeles. Not on the beach; we couldn't afford that. But occasionally we'd take the bus down there on a hot day. We didn't have air conditioning, and it was hot a lot. Sometimes we'd go to the market, just so we could stand in front of the freezer section for a while."
"What did she do for a living? How did she make money?"
"She did a lot of stuff—retail, restaurant cashier, dog walker, holiday elf."
"Holiday elf?" Juliette echoed.
He found himself smiling again. "Yeah, she got a job at the mall, one of Santa's elves. I was about ten. I'd go there with her and wander around while she put little kids on Santa's lap."
"But you didn't believe in Santa by then?"
"I never believed in him."
"Never? Not even when you were really young?"
He shrugged. "I tried, but he didn't show up at my house. And when my mom worked at the mall, I saw Santa throwing back shots in the parking lot."
"That's not something you should have seen."
"Trust me, that's the least of the somethings I shouldn't have seen."
"It sounds like a hard childhood, Roman." Sympathy filled her gaze.
He thought about her words. "I didn't really know how hard it was until I got older."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know why we're talking about this."
"Because I asked, and we're friends."
"Are we?"
"I'd like to think so."
"We just met."
"Is there a mandatory time requirement on friendship?" she asked. "Why didn't you know how hard you had it until you were older?"
"Because it was my life. It was my normal. And when my mom would go into rehab or just disappear, and some social worker put me in foster care, I was with other kids who were bad off, too. But when I came to Fairhope, I saw an entirely different world. I thought I was on a movie set for a while."
She smiled. "It can feel that way at times. You kind of liked it, though, didn't you?"
"I didn't want to. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to go home."
"Even though it wasn't great?"
"Even though," he admitted. "It was what I knew."
"That makes sense. I just wish it hadn't been so bad."
"Well, we don't get to choose what family we're born into."
"Which brings us back to Cameron."
He was actually relieved they were moving off his past, because once again he'd said far too much. "What do you want to do now?"
"I got Donna and Cameron's address. I think we should pay them a visit. We can take them some desserts. She seemed to like the Wish cookies last night. Maybe if we get into the house, we can see how things look."
"It's really not your business."
"If there's a child who's in danger, it's everyone's business." She paused. "I know I could call Family Services, but that could cause a lot of problems, and if I'm wrong, Donna will be horribly insulted and embarrassed. I'd rather check things out myself."
Having been the recipient of several social worker visits, he couldn't help but agree. "Fine, but you don't need me for this plan."
"I do, actually. I was thinking that I might need someone to distract Donna while I ask to use the restroom."
"On the guise of looking around."
"Yes. It will take twenty minutes, tops."
"And you want to do this right now?"
"Preferably. I have two helpers in the bakery until three, so it's a good time for me."
"You know, I am working here."
"Can't you take a little time off? We can go now, and then I'll buy you lunch after. Do you like burgers? There's a new restaurant that serves the most amazing, fantabulous burgers. You will die when you eat one."
"Fantabulous? Is that even a word?"
"If it's not, it should be; it's the only word that adequately describes these hamburgers."
"I do like burgers," he said slowly, thinking he liked her even more. He also felt a kinship with Cameron, which was the real reason he was contemplating saying yes to her plan. "Don't you have any other friends you could take with you?"
"I haven't made a lot of other friends here."
"How is that possible? You're one of the most outgoing people I've ever met."
"I've been busy. I love Donavan and Sara, but they work as much as I do."
"What about friends from when you lived here before?"
"I lost track of all of them. I was twelve when I left. That was fifteen years ago. I've run into a couple of kids I went to school with, but no one who's turned into a good friend. Just say yes, Roman. You'll spend more time arguing than it takes to just go over there."
"You are very persuasive and stubborn. All right, I'll go with you." He raised the container in his hand. "Are these the cookies we're taking? They're not actually for me, are they?"
She gave him a mischievous smile. "Well, they could be. We could go to the bakery and get more, or…"
"Or we can take these to her."
"And get you more later," she finished.
"I wonder if I'm actually ever going to get to eat one of these cookies," he murmured.
She laughed. "I promise you will
. But this way you'll have time to think of a good wish, make the cookie count."
He already had a wish ready to go, but it was probably one he shouldn't make. He handed her back the container of cookies. "Let me wash my hands and change my shirt."
"Take your time," she said. "I'll just wander around down here."
* * *
As Roman went up the stairs, she let out a breath of relief. She'd been hoping he'd say yes to going with her to Donna's house, but she hadn't been sure of it. And as much as she wanted to help Cameron, she felt a lot more confident making the visit with Roman. Hopefully, it would just seem friendly and nothing more than that.
While he was changing, she walked around the downstairs, feeling a mix of emotions with every step she took. Flashes of the past still moved through her head, but the construction, the ripped-out walls, and the clutter of tools did keep some of the memories at bay. The house was starting to feel different than the one she remembered.
She entered the kitchen and saw the first sign of life in the downstairs area: a couple of boxes of cereal on the counter as well as a bag of apples and a bunch of bananas. She set down the container of cookies and opened the cupboards, finding plastic plates and cups and a few coffee mugs. Roman really was living the minimalistic life.
But then, he wasn't planning on being here for long. She frowned at that thought, then moved through the back door, onto the weathered deck that had definitely seen better days. No one had tended to this yard in a long time; it was filled with weeds and overgrown brush. She'd heard that the house had been rented for years, before being sold to Roman's grandfather, so the tenants probably just hadn't cared that much.
It was sad. The corner of the garden where her mom had grown tomatoes, zucchini, and herbs was now just dirt and weeds. She put her arms around her waist, feeling colder than the outside temperature. This yard felt like a reminder of the pain of her past, not the joy. But it would be better once the yard was landscaped, when flowers bloomed and grass grew. She could still recapture its glory—if she had the chance. At the moment, that was doubtful.
She thought about what Vincent Prescott had told her—that the house could and would tell many stories, not just hers. She'd never really thought of it that way before. Who would move in next? Would it be a family? Would there be kids who would want to help their mother grow vegetables, the way she'd done?
"Juliette?"
Roman's voice brought her back to the present. She turned around and pushed a smile on her face. She'd learned how to hide her sadness a long time ago.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Are you?" he countered, giving her a speculative look. "You looked lost in thought."
"I was back in the past."
"We both seem to be taking trips there today."
"This yard was my mother's pride and joy. Now it's a mess."
"It won't be for long."
"What is your grandfather going to do with it?"
"Replace the deck with some built-in benches, build in a barbecue area and redo the landscaping, but that's at the end of a very long list."
"Well, this yard could definitely use all of that. I'm always surprised when people who live in a beautiful house like this don't take care of the yard. If they don't want land to tend, they should live in a condo. It's just not right."
"If we're going, Juliette, we should go."
"You're right." Following Roman into the house, she grabbed her cookies and put thoughts of the house behind her as they went out to the front.
"We can take my car," she said, waving her hand toward her small white Mini Cooper.
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I'll fit in that."
"It's roomier than you might think."
"We can take my truck."
His weathered, charcoal-gray truck was definitely a lot bigger, but it also looked like it had seen better days, with dents on the passenger door and peeling paint on the hood. "How long have you had this?" she asked.
"I bought it right before I came here."
"From where—the junkyard?"
"A contractor," he said dryly. "It may not look pretty, but it's got everything I need."
"Do you ever want more than you need?" she asked, as she got into the passenger side.
He shot her a questioning look. "What do you mean?"
"You seem to exist at survival level, but I don’t think it's necessarily because you can't afford nicer things. So I wonder why you don't want to live in a nice place or buy a new truck?" She gave him a questioning look.
"I'm happy with what I have," he said with a careless shrug. "I don't get attached to things. I don't usually keep them that long."
She wondered if things included people. Knowing a little more about his past, she thought probably so. Roman had had to protect himself from a very young age, not just from danger but from heartbreak, and he'd probably learned as a child that attaching himself to people who would disappoint him and things he would lose was only going to cause him pain.
She wondered where his mother was now, but that was a question for another day.
Seven
"It's pretty," Juliette said, as Roman parked in front of Donna's two-story house.
The white house with dark-blue shutters had a big front porch with a seating area of wicker furniture and hanging pots of plants. The yard was well-tended, a colorful array of flowers lining the path to the front steps. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but she was starting to have doubts about her gut instinct that Cameron's living situation was not good.
"I hope this isn't a mistake," she said as she got out of the car and met Roman on the sidewalk. "Maybe you were right, and Cameron is just an unhappy, bored kid and his grandmother is a wonderful person."
"Do you think only happy things go on in pretty houses?" he asked.
She frowned. "You said that before, when we were running after Cameron. I'm not a snob, Roman, and I don't think I'm naïve."
"Not naïve, but you tend to live on the bright side of the street. Wish cookies and miracles and sweet somethings fill your days."
"Now they do. But I have been through my own personal hell," she reminded him. "If I choose to make my life sweeter and happier now, then who's to say that's wrong?"
"Definitely not me."
"Good. And I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to find out what's really going on with Cameron—pretty house or not." She strode forward and rang the bell.
They waited for a few moments, and she was beginning to wonder if no one was home.
"I feel like I've been here before," Roman muttered as his gaze swept the yard. "Someone lived here. One of the guys I hung out with, I think."
"Really? But you didn't know Donna."
"She looked a little familiar, but I don't remember any kids with the last name of Mays."
Cameron opened the door, interrupting their conversation. His eyes filled with alarm when he saw them.
"Hi, Cameron," she said, trying to ease his worry. "Is your grandmother here? I thought you both might like more of my Wish cookies."
"Uh…" He looked over his shoulder. "She's sleeping. She doesn't like to be woken up. You can leave the cookies with me."
She tried to peer past Cameron, but he didn't seem interested in letting her into the house.
"Cameron," a woman's voice rang out. "Is someone at the door?"
"Sounds like your grandmother is awake now," Roman said, pushing past Cameron.
Juliette followed him inside, feeling a little guilty for just walking in, but they weren't going to learn anything from the porch.
Donna came down the stairs, wearing a robe over a nightgown. "Oh, dear," she said when she saw them. "Goodness, I didn't know we had company."
"We're sorry to bother you," Juliette said. "I wanted to bring you some more of my Wish cookies."
"Well, that was sweet," Donna said, patting down her hair, then pulling her robe more tightly around her. "Excuse my appearance. I didn't sleep well last
night so I stayed in bed this morning."
"It's fine. We're disturbing you, and that wasn't our intent." Actually, it was exactly their intent, but she couldn't say that. She glanced over at Cameron, who had taken the lid off the container and was biting into one of her cookies as if he were really hungry. That reminded her of why they were here. "Would you mind if I use your bathroom before we go?"
"It's down the hall," Donna said with a wave of her hand.
"I'll just be a second," she told Roman, who didn't look thrilled that she'd left him with Donna, but he simply gave her a nod.
"You look familiar," Roman said, as she left the room.
"Do I? Maybe you saw me in one of my plays. I used to be an actress at the Center Theater. It was a wonderful time. I played all the good parts—Stella from a Streetcar Named Desire and Scarlett from Gone With The Wind."
Their voices faded as Juliette made her way down the hall. She moved past the bathroom to peek into the kitchen. There was a pile of dishes in the sink and an odd smell in the room, but nothing overtly horrible. The bathroom was in the same condition—not exactly dirty but not exactly clean, either. There was an office next to the bathroom and as she looked in there, she saw a lot of clutter.
Moving inside, she perused the desk which was stacked high with mail: flyers, catalogs, fundraising requests, and what appeared to be bills with second and third notice stamped on the front of the envelopes. She frowned at those.
Why wasn't Donna paying her bills?
Was she just lazy or did she not have the money?
That question was still going around in her head when she returned to the entry. Roman gave her a relieved look while Donna was laughing about some story she'd just told. Cameron was sitting on the stairs, working his way through the container of cookies, and Donna didn't seem to be paying any attention.
"Save some for your grandmother," she told Cameron with a smile.
Guilt filled his eyes as he set a half-eaten cookie back in the container.
"Oh, that's all right. He's a growing boy," Donna said, waving her hand. "You go ahead and finish that, Cameron."
"Is the cookie really magic?" Cameron asked her.
"Some people think so," she replied.
"Why?" he asked.
Sweet Somethings Page 7