“I am due in two weeks, so my best friend is leaving her new English hubby to be with me.” Suze gave Jake a steely glare. “God knows my husband will be of no use in labor and delivery. I’ll be happy if he doesn’t pass out in the waiting room. Kate has to be at the hospital with me. Your one-time business manager and previous owner of BBRD is tougher than the two of you boys.”
Quinn punched Jake in the shoulder. “He’s sort of a hard-ass. So what if he’s afraid of the sight of blood.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jake said, rubbing his shoulder. “Kate wants to come back to sign the sale of BBRD over to you in person. Since she sold you her shop, she wants to make sure it gets passed on to you.”
Quinn laughed. “Right. She’s having a hard time letting it go, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, but Derek won’t let his new wife go back on a deal. BBRD belongs to you in every way but on paper. So when she comes this weekend, we’ll make a ceremony of it. The four of us. Dinner at Charlie Trotters?”
Quinn guzzled down his water. “I’ll let you know. I have to confirm my schedule when I get home.”
Suze gave Jake a sideways glance. “Check your schedule? I was right. There is a woman. Who is she this time? Is she a one weekender or a two weekender?”
Quinn dropped the crystal glass down on the silver platter. It crashed against the decanter. “Let’s go over the Wrigley donation to the Field Museum. I have to get going.”
Color crept up his sister-in-law’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Quinn. You usually share your latest babe story.”
“There isn’t any story to tell.” Quinn said.
Chapter Thirteen
Sadie retrieved her storage boxes out of the closet and reconstructed her bedroom. She carefully placed every picture and tchotchke on her walls and dresser. She dragged out her framed prints of Frank Lloyd Wright designs and hung them to cover the bare subterranean wall. She unpeeled the tissue from the crystal frame with her most precious picture. The photo was taken at Ms. Katie’s. She’d been celebrating with her mom and dad after she’d received her undergrad at the University of Chicago. Sadie placed it on her vanity table.
As if the picture sent out a silent message, her cell phone rang. It was her dad. Sadie answered it and put him on speaker. “I’m here.”
“Where’s here, lovey? Your place?” he asked.
“Of course. Home sweet Chicago. Miss me already?” She shuffled around her bed to arrange her books on the nightstand that doubled as a bookshelf. She made a mental note to take a road trip to IKEA.
Her dad’s gruff chuckle filled her room. “I made notes on the designs for the diner renovation. I want you to look at them before I send them off to Quinn.”
“Take some photos Pop and e-mail them to me. I’m settling in and will have time this weekend to look over Ms. Katie’s expansion.”
“Will you have time to show them to Quinn?” he asked.
“I think. We’re going to dinner tonight. I’ll check with him. I’m pretty certain he’ll make time for you.”
“I need you to make sure he’s doesn’t go hog wild and make changes to the diner that would make your mother roll her eyes while she’s playing a harp.”
“I’m sure Quinn is careful to keep his clients’ wishes at the forefront of his projects,” she said. “Rehab construction work seems to be his priority.”
“Yeah. Just be sure he makes you a priority while in the city.”
“I’ll try.” She laughed. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead on my thesis.” She stepped into the closet and shuffled the hangers back and forth to find something to wear for dinner.
Her father’s voice boomed across the small room. “Sadie, are you there? Damn it. I hate these new phones. Give me a cord anytime.”
She shouted toward the smart phone. “I’m running late. I’ve got to get dressed for dinner. Quinn’s going to be here any minute.”
“Okay honey. Take care. And tell Quinn I can find him easily if he doesn’t treat you like a queen. Where are you going to dinner?”
“Club Lucky.”
“Say hello to Georgie. Won’t you?”
“Dad, don’t think I can walk into the Club without the owner giving me a hug. He’s sweet but he also strikes me as a dirty old man. Good thing he’s your old buddy. I should be slapping him silly for the way he looks at me. And those caterpillar brows of his need a good waxing.”
Her dad laughed.
She found her little black dress in the closet. The knit sleeveless turtleneck dress hugged her figure terrifically. And it ended just above her thighs. Her only dress had seen its day, the black faded, but she felt so right in it nothing could go wrong while wearing it. And she’d finally be dressed differently for Quinn. Although he seemed to enjoy her mini skirt.
“Good night, Sadie,” her dad said breaking into her wayward thoughts.
“Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” She clicked her phone off.
Sadie went to take a ten second shower in the cold water. After, she slathered Palmer’s cocoa butter up and down her legs. Her mild case of sun poisoning was healing nicely. Her legs looked freckled.
She slipped the dress on over her head and combed through her hair. She liked how she looked in the bathroom mirror. She wanted to be seductive and maybe a little mysterious for Quinn. Not sure if she’d manage either, with her minimal expertise in relationships. But Quinn was so darn comfortable. There wasn’t much she could get nervous over.
When the buzzer rang, she rushed to put on the pair of silver chandelier earrings she’d found at a vintage shop on Damen. She pressed the intercom. “Who is it?”
“A man starving for some good Italian.”
“I’m Irish.”
“I’m not even going to go there. Can I come in?”
Sadie buzzed open the outer door for Quinn. She opened her door to meet him in the hallway. When he strode toward her, she bit the inside of her cheek to make certain her jaw didn’t drop open.
To say Quinn had cleaned up was an understatement. As he came down the hall, she could see the sharp creases of his navy trousers. The gabardine fabric looked so rich, she wondered if he’d handpicked it from a mill and presented it to a seamstress.
“Hello,” he said as he reached her standing in the doorway. “Settled into your place?”
“As snug as a bug in a rug,” she tittered out nervously.
He brushed his knuckle gently across her cheek. “Are you all right? You look pale. Do you want to stay in and order take out? If you’re not feeling up to going out I know of a great little Thai food place we can order from. Or Chinese? Whatever you feel up for.”
She shook off her shock. So Quinn wasn’t in jeans and a tee. He was the same man. Just as handsome. Only a little more GQ. He dressed up to take her to dinner. She brushed her hand down his arm and felt his muscled forearm flex under the cool white dress shirt. “You look gorgeous.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be saying that to you?” He leaned down and kissed her earlobe. “You’re the true beauty.”
She laughed. “Let’s go eat. We have to get to Club Lucky before George drinks too many Manhattans. Otherwise we won’t get the only window seat.”
“Already done. I called him up. He’s holding that table for us.”
“You know George Vitucci? The restaurant’s owner?” Sadie grabbed her clutch purse from the entryway table, locked the door, and slammed it shut.
“Yes,” Quinn said. As they walked out, he held the door open for her. “He’s an old friend of my family’s. Let me guess. Georgie and Paul must be friends.”
“Yep. Two peas in a pod. Before I forget, Pop is sending his renovation ideas for the diner. Remind me to show them to you over dinner.” She looked down the street for the Jeep. “Did you have to park on Damen?”
“No. Right, here.” He swung open the passenger door to a silver Porsche Boxster parked in front of her building.
Sadie took a deep breath. “Oh, where’s the Jeep?”
&nb
sp; “I’m having my mechanic check it over. It’s a beautiful night. Thought we could take a ride after dinner.”
“Great. That sounds great.” Sadie slipped into the low bucket seat of the sports car. She stretched her legs out and perused the high tech dashboard. The sleek car surprised her. Or was she a little surprised that Quinn had such expensive taste? The job in Lake Geneva must have paid well. She adjusted the hem of her Old Navy T-shirt dress clinging around her legs. “Cozy.”
“It’s easy to maneuver into tight parking spots.” He clutched the gearshift and drove into the street, stealthily moving along into the Friday night traffic on Armitage. “After dinner want to go over to the Wrigley Club? I heard a rumor that 606 might be playing.”
She eased into the Porsche’s soft leather seat and relaxed. “Really? How did you gather that information? So few people know about Dave Grohl’s alter ego band for the Foo Fighters.”
He smiled mischievously. “I’m not divulging my sources. Actually, I’m not sure of times yet. I only heard The Foo would be playing at one of the clubs on Addison Street sometime this week. I’m rooting for the Wrigley Club since my sister Emily owns it.”
Quinn pulled up in front of Club Lucky. Built during the prohibition era, glass brick walls were meant to disguise it as a restaurant when it really was an old-time corner tap and bar. George had remodeled it to double the size and made it into a legitimate restaurant since his cannoli alone made his business boom.
Sadie slipped out of the Porsche after Quinn opened the door for her. On the sidewalk, under the canopy, she watched him. He spoke to the valet, handed him the car keys and a fifty-dollar bill. The valet pocketed the tip and hopped in the Porsche, thanking Quinn profusely. The guy really did get lucky thanks to Quinn. Sadie wondered if she could get a valet job from George.
The bar was crowded. Three deep full. Sadie inhaled George’s signature tomato sauce infused with basil, oregano and garlic. Her mouth watered. “I hope George didn’t forget about me. I haven’t been here in way too long.”
“He hasn’t. He asked me what you wanted for dessert when we talked earlier.”
“How do you know him so well?”
George, a tall man with a full head of silver white hair, made his way through the crowd and met Sadie and Quinn before they had a chance to step out of the foyer. He embraced her with an un-fatherly bear hug. “There you are. It’s lovely to see you ragazzina.”
Sadie caught the slightest scent of Gio aftershave. George was closing in on seventy-five, but a true Italian stallion. She suspected he still had his way with the blue-haired ladies, who lived in the neighborhood and came in for his senior discount specials.
George shook Quinn’s hands energetically. “You’ve been scarce. Family keeping you busy?”
“Yes, Mr. Vitucci,” Quinn said, sounding stiff and formal.
Sadie swallowed a giggle. Quinn, who was formidable in his own right, seemed daunted by George. Quinn was respectful, almost reverent.
“Family always comes first,” George said. He gave Sadie a gimlet stare. “And for you my dear, I had the kitchen prepare caramel apple pie, your mother’s recipe. Come along.”
Quinn held her hand as they followed George into the back dining room. They sat in the corner booth with a window, which looked out onto the trafficked Wabansia Street.
The houses in the old Italian neighborhood were charming. The whitewashed wood front porches displayed an impressive variety of lawn chairs and garden ornaments.
“Familiagia. Eat well.” George kissed Sadie on the cheek and left.
“Now can you tell me how you know George? He seems like a father figure to you.” From the bread basket, Sadie grabbed a bread stick covered with sesame seeds. She dipped it into the scoop of butter.
“Father figure. That’s an interesting observation. I’m not close with my dad, so I suppose you could say that. He was a friend of my mother’s back when they were in high school. Club Lucky was my first renovation job. I guess George was my first boss.”
She looked around the restaurant. “Of course. The place looks like a twin of my mother’s diner. I should have known. You do have a type,” she said.
“I don’t have a type.”
“Lots of vinyl and chrome?”
“Oh right that type. Got it.” He looked down and read the plastic-covered menu.
“I was just joking,” she said.
He smiled. “I know.”
Sadie sensed she struck a sore spot. She wasn’t sure, and didn’t pursue it.
A pretty waitress came up to take their table. “Ready to order, Quinn?”
Sadie eyed the waitress. She was gazing at Quinn.
He didn’t look away from the menu, “A bottle of Vitucci’s Chianti and some clams to start, Patrice.” He glanced up at Sadie. “What would you like for dinner?”
“Uh.” Sadie knew what she wanted to eat but suddenly couldn’t remember what it was called. Her thoughts were thrown into a tizzy. Did she or didn’t she feel an intimate moment pass between the waitress and Quinn? She scanned the menu to get a grip. “I would like the Penne Arrabiata with the shrimp.”
The waitress glared at her, then turned back toward Quinn. “I know you’ll want something without any meat,” she said with a giggle.
“I’ll have the ravioli. Thanks.”
Sadie watched as Quinn handed the menus to the waitress. His eyes seemed to linger for a second on her full lips. Patrice had more lipstick on her mouth than Sadie owned.
“I’ll be back with your carafe.” She turned and left.
Sadie stayed fixated on the waitress as she stopped at another table.
“Earth to Sadie. What are your plans this week?”
She twisted around in her seat to fully face him. “I want to get together with my advisor. See if we can get my agenda ready for my thesis.”
He ripped off a hefty piece from the loaf of Italian bread and dunked it into the aioli oil. “What’s your thesis going to be on?”
“The architectural designs of three select Chicago historical landmarks and how they impacted the city proper.” She glanced back into the dining room to see where Patrice had disappeared.
“Which three landmarks?”
“I haven’t decided. I’d like to include the Board of Trade and maybe the Wrigley Building, but I’m struggling with the third. My goal is to settle it with my advisor Frank by the end of the week.”
“Think you’ll be available for a Cubs game? Friday night they play the Brewers. I’m having a party. You can come and celebrate your final thesis with a baseball game.”
Patrice placed a carafe of red wine on the table and two stem-less wine glasses. “Your clams will be right up.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said.
Sadie noticed that Patrice hesitated after he said thank you. Then the waitress looked back over her shoulder, as she walked toward the kitchen.
“She’s very pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her here before,” Sadie said.
“Patrice is George’s niece. She usually works at another family restaurant in Evanston.”
“Oh really? I didn’t realize they have two locations. Did you work on that place as well?” Sadie watched as he poured her a generous glass of wine.
“No, no. I didn’t work on George’s other place. I ate there pretty often when I worked on a nearby site.” He drank his wine. “What about the Cubs? Are you a fan?”
Sadie took a big swig of Chianti. “Oh. So while you worked at a job site, you frequented her table often?”
“No. Once in a while, I suppose.” He set his wine glass down on the table and gazed at her. “What’s wrong? This our first date in Chicago and something’s bugging you. What is it?”
“I…” She sucked in a breath. “I’m out of sorts. Long day. And not even any hot water to take a steamy shower.” She cast out her disparaging déjà vu. “I’m a Brewers fan, but a Cubs game would be fun.”
“No hot water? What’s the proble
m?”
“The heater’s broken. I guess.”
“I’ll take a look at it tomorrow. Maybe I can fix it.”
“Handy and handsome.”
He smiled and looked around the restaurant.
“Looking for someone?” she said.
“Not someone. The clams. Our food. I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” She tried to fight off the notion that she was another waitress like Patrice. “So there’s another Club Lucky?”
“No. It’s a trendy coffee shop and diner on the Evanston campus.”
“Oh.”
Patrice brought the bowl of steamed clams and shell dishes. She set two white linen napkins on the table next to Sadie, and another couple she handed directly to Quinn. “You can have more if you want.” She laughed. “I know what a mess clams can make for you.”
Sadie felt burning heat creep up her cheeks. Quinn didn’t acknowledge Patrice’s comment. He grabbed the napkins, laid them on his lap, and ladled a scoop of clams into Sadie’s bowl, and then his own.
Through dinner, Patrice wandered over so often, Sadie couldn’t finish a bite, much less chew it. Quinn gobbled his ravioli while Sadie nibbled at her penne pasta.
After, Patrice cleared their plates and set her well-manicured hand on his shoulder. “What would you two like for dessert?” She asked without making eye contact with Sadie. “The chocolate cheesecake is delicious.”
Sadie smiled at Quinn. She had practically lectured him about George’s delicious pie crust on the way back to Chicago.
“That sounds terrific. I’ll have a slice. Any fresh berries?” he said to Patrice and then looked at her. “Hon, what are you up for?”
So much for a sweet finale to their first date in Chicago. “Can I have a slice of apple pie with the caramel sauce?” Sadie said despondently. And then before Patrice took off she quickly added, “In fact, can you put it in a container to go?” She nodded toward Quinn. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to have to take a rain check on the Porsche ride through Wrigleyville.”
Patrice strode away and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Are you all right?” Quinn stood and came to her side of the table. “Can we have our apple pie at your place?”
Just Desserts Page 9