Just Desserts

by Tricia Quinnies

  “Translate, please.” She stood beside him to put the dirty mixing bowl in the sink.

  “We can’t finish hooking it up until tomorrow. My welder can come and connect the piping then. If you want a hot shower today you’ll have to come to my place.”

  She rubbed her upper arms. The bike ride had left a thin layer of Chicago grit on her skin. “I’ll think about it. Where’s your brother?”

  “He and Lance left and will come back around tomorrow morning.” He grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed one to her. “My brother’s itching to bring his wife with him. He wants her to meet you. He’s being a pain in the ass.”

  “Oh why?” She took a sip of beer. “I wouldn’t mind meeting your sister-in-law. And Jake seems like a good guy.”

  “He is, except his wife is due to deliver their first baby any day. I don’t think he needs to drag her to a construction site.”

  “It’s not exactly a demolition derby down the hall. She can sit on my couch and put her feet up. Completely avoid the utility room.” Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. “And if she goes into labor, the apartment, even though it’s not what your family’s used to, it isn’t far from a hospital.”

  Quinn stood in front of her. “What do you mean ‘what my family’s used to’?”

  She tried to keep her voice steady. “Well I know my place, and this neighborhood, aren’t exactly luxurious.”

  “Um Sadie? What are you talking about?”

  She grabbed the Chicago Magazine from the counter and handed it to him. “You. Your family. Why didn’t you tell me that you were a Wrigley?”

  He glanced at the magazine and threw it on the island. “Shit. I didn’t think about it. It’s a name. And yes, my family, and a business, but it’s not who I am.”

  She chomped off half of one of her cookies. “Right. The business of taking over flailing diners. I haven’t shown you or had a chance to talk to you about my dad’s designs? Where did the new Viking come from?”

  “Damn it. Jake. What did he say to you? The fridge was, ah, a last minute, impulse purchase. I planned on calling your dad.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “A fridge that costs ten grand you bought on a whim?”

  “Long story. Listen, Sadie. I’m the same man you met in Lake Geneva. Yes, my mother’s maiden name was Wrigley. And I’m not going to apologize for my family, but I do keep them from interfering in my life. I can’t ignore them entirely, but I don’t let them know the most important details, like you. And Jake and my sister-in-law, I love them, but they harass me about my love life.”

  Sadie glanced down at the magazine photo and wondered how the woman fawning over him fit into his love life. How crowded is Quinn’s life in Chicago? “Why didn’t you tell me you owned the Wrigley mansion, or that you weren’t just the contractor?”

  “Because I don’t own it. It belongs to my mother.”

  Is it so crowded I’ll get squeezed out?

  “There’s a lot of misconstrued hype with the Wrigley name. It’s a love/hate relationship. I do my best to avoid it. So I keep it on the QT and work hard to simply manage my own business.” He dropped his chin into his palm. “I want my personal life to stay private. That’s it. I rarely, if at all, share family information.”

  “Okay.” She wanted to end the conversation. Her agitation was starting to show through. Whether it was over her irrational inferiority complex or the beautiful woman in the picture, she wanted to stop.

  “It’s my fault. I should have said something, or at the least remembered the piece in the magazine. Most of the time, Jake feeds the media standard public relations fare. He runs it by me, but it’s the same copy so I don’t think twice about it. When we got back to Chicago, I thought I had some time. I would have told you right away; I was just too busy taking off your clothes.”

  Sadie looked at the magazine picture again. “I accept your apology.”

  “Come on. I need a shower and a change of clothes. Can I take you to my place?”

  She went to the sink and washed out her mixing bowl. “Maybe some other time. I want to bake another batch for Ellen.”

  He turned off the faucet. “Really? Why do I sense you’re using cookies to dodge me?”

  A few minutes earlier she would have camped at his doorstep without an invitation, but suddenly she felt overwhelmed. There was too much she didn’t know about Quinn. “No, not at all.”

  “I can’t entice you with a long hot shower? I have a built-in sauna.” He caressed her shoulders.

  “Another cold shower may not be too bad for me. It might wake me up.”

  “Sure. I’ll be back early tomorrow.” He kissed her cheek. “And after the heater’s installed I can look at the notes your father added onto the diner rehab. It’s a perfect refrigerator for the diner even if I did buy it in a rush.”

  “At Lowe’s being in a rush is deadly. The store is infested with do-it-yourselfers who need all the time from the sales people.”

  “No joke. The sales boy is still in shock from making the sale so fast. Although he’s probably still riveted to the floor ogling…” He combed his fingers through his hair.

  “The sales boy was ogling the Viking?”

  “Actually, he was entranced by a woman. That Jake and I ran into while in the store. Jeez the boy was in a state of euphoria. I think he discounted the fridge an extra ten percent for me.”

  Sadie nodded. “Really. That’s interesting. This woman…is she a celebrity of some sort?”

  “God no. Just an acquaintance of mine. Moved back from Italy a month or two ago. Kinda odd to have run into her.”

  “Yeah. That is rather quirky. Italy, how cool.” Sadie glanced down at the magazine photo and at the woman with the long dark hair cascading over Quinn’s shoulder.

  “I’m going to take off. I’ll call you in the morning. Let you know when I’m on the way.”

  “That would be great,” she said, pushing her voice out two notes higher.

  ***

  Once again, Quinn had to rationalize his family. This time was unique. After he left Sadie, he wondered if his usual battery of excuses for his birth into a family known around the world had pushed her away from him. He had tried like hell to remain equitable. But he’d never had a woman freeze up like Sadie did after learning he was a Wrigley. Usually they’d close in on him and purr louder. Sadie wasn’t any damn cat. He knew that. And then he fucked up royally. What was he thinking when he mentioned the scene at Lowe’s and seeing Lizanne?

  When he called Jake, Suze answered. “Great. I need to talk to a woman.”

  “Sorry, hon. I’m married. And the panting you hear over the phone is from carrying around an extra twenty-five pounds of baby.”

  “This is serious.” He threw his keys toward the foyer table and missed. “I think I screwed up something with Sadie.”

  “Slow down, buckaroo. You’re Quinn Laughton. The desire of every single Chicago woman. You can’t screw up anything.”

  He picked his keys up and chucked them at the table again. “Yes. Yes, I can. She’s Sadie. And I don’t care about any other woman in Chicago, but her.”

  “You love her, don’t you?” Suze’s voice lacked her usual good humor tone when ribbing him.

  “Uh…wha…?”

  “Quit grunting.”

  “I have to fix the problem. I can’t change my name. And I’m almost certain Sadie might run away from it. Hell, even I’ve wanted to escape it more often than not.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Quinn told her about the article in the magazine.

  “Being the heir to a gum fortune can be a little sticky.” She chuckled. “Sounds cool so far. Go on.”

  “I wielded Wrigleys eloquently, but when I explained about buying the fridge I accidentally mentioned what set off that comedy of errors. Lizanne.”

  Silence came from the end of his iPhone.

  “Suze, I effed up didn’t I?”

  “Not sure. But y
ou’re a guy. And don’t take this personally, but I bet you didn’t quite hear everything she said to you.”

  “None taken. Probably not. What are you doing tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “Well, after I hide the chainsaw you bought for your brother, not a whole lot.”

  “Can you come over to Sadie’s? We’ll be there. And you can…”

  She bellowed, “Oh yeah. I have to meet the woman who finally and thankfully caught you for good. Lizanne was a long time ago.”

  “I know. Jesus, why couldn’t she stay in Italy?”

  “She’s marrying the hunkiest mayor this city’s seen since Daley, you know.”

  “Which Daley?”

  “The one with hair. I suppose.” She added sedately, “Quinn, if it wasn’t Lizanne it could have been any of the women with whom you’ve kept company. You’re a good guy with a lot of extras. You’re the package. The juicy fruit.”

  “Enough. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He stripped off his jeans and threw on his shorts, Nikes, and an AC/DC T-shirt. Jogging up Armitage, he veered off and sprinted through the zoo and slowed as he ran toward the city skyline. On the beach at Oak Street, he caught his breath and admired the Gold Coast brownstones. The one he wanted to buy was for sale again. He’d put in an offer and wouldn’t let it slip away from him this time.

  After he walked home he took a long cold shower, because he didn’t deserve a hot one.

  When he called Sadie to say goodnight, it dropped into her voice mail.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Across from Wrigley Field, the length of Sheridan Avenue was lined with brownstones that mostly looked the same—Cherokee red bricks, three floors high, and a lot of ivy crawling up the façades. Sadie double-checked the address she had jotted down in her palm to make sure the cab dropped her off in front of the right brownstone.

  A neon Bud sign flashed in a window and Sadie spotted a brass plate with The Wrigley Club etched into it. The sign was barely discernible since it was covered with white star-shaped clematis blossoms.

  Sadie opened the club’s mahogany door. A throng of people stood around the bar. The pub tables were full and all of the flat screens blared baseball stats. From the looks of the T-shirts, she sighted plenty of Brewers fans mixed into the Cubs crowd. On the landing, at the top of the first set of stairs, she spotted Jake.

  She adjusted her messenger bag onto her back and went up the stairs to find Quinn. He had reminded her about the party with texts the past week. Since he had finished fixing the hot water heater last Sunday, she hadn’t seen him. Quinn was as busy with work the last few days as she was with nailing down her thesis topic and trying to get together with her advisor.

  As she neared the landing, Jake waved and smiled. “You made it. Quinn thinks he’s in the doghouse. And he blames me because I kept him busy in meetings.”

  “That’s silly. It’s been a crazy week. I’ve been playing phone tag with Quinn and my advisor, Frank. Today’s Friday, and I just met with him this afternoon.” She grabbed the railing as they walked up the last flight of stairs to the rooftop. “Is Suze here?”

  Jake opened the door for her. “No. Her ankles keep swelling. She doesn’t want to even look at stairs.”

  “She’s so close to her due date. Do you think she’ll go early?” Sadie said.

  “Hell if I know.” He waved his cell phone. “I have to chain this to my wrist. She calls me with updates every minute.”

  “I hope I didn’t bore her to death last Sunday. While Quinn was in the utility room, I chattered on about Ms. Katie’s.”

  “Not at all. She’s sorry to miss you tonight. I’m supposed to ask you for a recipe. Suze wants more of those cupcakes that you made for her while your hot water heater was getting fixed.”

  “She can’t be standing over a hot oven baking. I’ll make another batch of the chocolate mousse cupcakes. It’s the least I can do for her since she divulged Quinn’s nickname.”

  “My wife and her gorgeous, but big mouth.” Jake laughed.

  “I would have thought Big Red suited Quinn better, but I like Mr. Juicy Fruit. What’s your Wrigley nickname?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  They stepped onto the rooftop. “I’ll bake a double batch of cupcakes for Suze. That will get it out of her.”

  Jake smiled.

  The clear blue sky from earlier had clouded over. Sadie tucked her Brewers T-shirt into her chino shorts. She was glad she had thrown on a white oxford as a jacket at the last minute.

  A royal blue canopy tent with a Cubs insignia on it took up one side of the rooftop space. She scanned the people gathered at the bar underneath the tent to find Quinn.

  Clearly, she was in Cubs territory. Even the tables were covered with royal blue linens. On each, there was a floral centerpiece with a bright orange colored letter C sticking out of the center. “Where’s Quinn?”

  Jake glanced around and pointed toward the corner of the roof. “There.”

  She spotted Quinn in a circle of men, all as tall as him. She noticed he was dressed semi-casual: jeans, a white shirt and navy sport jacket. But the work buddies he spoke to were wearing business suits. “Those men look too serious for a baseball game.”

  “They take baseball seriously. That gray-haired man is baseball commissioner Bud Selig and the other one, with the Buddy Holly specs, is the Brewers manager, Drew Estagio.”

  Sadie scrutinized the party of people milling around or seated at the tables. The women, a minority, wore sleek sundresses and sported Vera Bradley handbags. Most of the men were in khakis and oxfords. She fumbled with the cuff of her suddenly too short shorts. “I’m clearly underdressed for the occasion.”

  “Not at all. Come on, let’s get a beer. Your choice. Bud or Miller?”

  She followed Jake and tried to keep her eyes on Quinn. He was in a deep discussion with the baseball big wigs. Jake handed her a pint glass of Miller.

  “Thanks for the champagne of beers.” She took a sip.

  Jake’s cell rang. “It’s my beautiful wife.”

  Sadie really wished Suze was at the party. “Everything all right?”

  Jake nodded and finagled his way out of the cluster of people standing around the bar and out from under the tent.

  Sadie glanced around and didn’t see Quinn. Major league baseball’s royalty were still in deep conversation, but he wasn’t with them any longer. She spotted Quinn talking to a mousy-brown haired woman wearing a Cubs T-shirt. She had such a great figure; the unflattering sports T-shirt was enviously sexy. Sadie tucked in her faded cheddar-orange Brewer’s tee, to define her breasts a little better. She took a long drink of beer.

  Quinn gave the woman a brief hug.

  She had rushed from her appointment with her advisor in the city to get here before the game started and to see Quinn. Lucky enough, she found him working and flirting with another waitress.

  To do something other than watch Quinn, she poked inside her bag for longer than necessary and then retrieved her phone. Sadie scrolled through her Twitter feed. When she looked up, Quinn and the pretty woman were standing in front of her. Sadie spotted the familial resemblance right away. “Oh. Hi.”

  Quinn kissed her cheek. “Hey. You made it. Sadie, this is my sister, Emily. She owns the Wrigley Club.”

  “I’m so glad you were able to make it. These guys are a bunch of stuffed shirts. They need to stop working and enjoy the game.” She shook Sadie’s hand and then looked her over from head to toe. “A Brewers fan. Happy to meet you. Love the retro logo of Bernie Brewer wearing a barrel.” She smiled at her brother. “Are we good? I have to make sure there are enough crackers out for the Brie.” She pivoted around and took off for the buffet tables lined with silver serving dishes.

  “Your sister’s so young. This club is packed—her business is booming. Impressive. Any other successful Wrigley siblings?”

  Sadie wondered if Emily actually bought the club or if it was a family heirloom passed to he
r. She cast the petty thought out of her brain. From the way Emily hustled around the buffet, she obviously worked hard.

  “No. Just the three of us.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear. “Finally. I haven’t seen you all week.”

  “Miss me?” she sighed.

  “More than you know.”

  Sadie leaned into him and relished his embrace. His omnipotent family be damned.

  “What can I get for you, Mr. Laughton?” the bartender asked, interrupting their reunion.

  “Just a Coke.”

  “You’re not drinking? Not even a beer?” Sadie said.

  “Too many conversations to finish before the end of the night.”

  “What does that mean?” She took another sip of her beer.

  “There are some work buddies here.”

  “Work buddies? The baseball muckety-mucks?”

  “I’m bidding on a job. For Estagio. He owns a house in the ‘burbs as big as the house in Lake Geneva. He wants it all LEED, eco-friendly and off the grid.” He sounded as excited as a kid in a candy shop. “I want it. I can orchestrate a geothermal heating system for it.”

  “All of this came about this week?”

  “I pitched my ideas to him last November. I’ve been waiting and talking with him all this week. He’s holding out on me. But I think it’s good.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “No congratulations, yet. Still haven’t heard his final decision.”

  “I have some good news. I met with my advisor, Frank, today. And I’ve settled on my thesis topic. I wanted to analyze and compare three historical Chicago landmarks, but he convinced me to change directions. To focus more on the historical aspect of a block or a street.”

  “There you are!” a man bellowed from behind her.

  “Drew. Hello. I want you to meet—” Quinn started to say.

  “We need to talk. I have to take off right after the game starts.” Drew turned abruptly and bumped into her.

  “Sure. This is Sadie Maxon. I recently bought her family’s diner, Ms. Katie’s. The renovations will start early next year.”