Nobody would have guessed Aunt Myrtle was the younger of the two widows. Twenty-seven years of marriage to Jasper Bannister combined with the cigarettes she'd finally given up had taken its toll on poor Aunt Myrtle. Charlie didn't think she'd been all that sorry to see her husband leave this world at the age of forty-eight, but he was absolutely positive she missed the cigarettes.
Rick had a catalog in front of him. "You have to see this stuff," he said. "Who knew?"
Charlie didn't want to know. One quick glance at the catalog was more than enough for him. "It's quarter to six," he said. "We need to go."
"Hold on a minute." Rick held up the open catalog and turned it so Charlie could see. "Check this out."
Charlie could either come off as a prude in front of his much cooler cousin or look at the catalog. The cookie cutter was, as he'd feared, X-rated. The picture wasn't only of the cookie cutter, of course. Included was a decorated vanilla sugar cookie. The frosting filled in every last detail, leaving no doubt what the cookie couple was doing.
"Innovative." Charlie could feel the heat rising from the collar of his flannel shirt.
"We're embarrassing Charlie," Aunt Myrtle said. "He's turning red."
"He'll get over it." Rick flipped the catalog page. "And look at this. In case your couple isn't Caucasian, we have the chocolate version and the gingerbread version. I'm not sure how it works if you have a multicultural couple, though."
"You have to go with dual dough," Charlie's mother said. "But vanilla will work for this couple, which is good because we have a time crunch."
Charlie decided that in this case, ignorance was not bliss. "You say that like you're talking about a specific couple."
"Oh, we are!" Aunt Myrtle said in her deep smoker's voice. "These will be for Jill's bachelorette party Friday night. That's why we sent Manny and Kyle into Hartford. We didn't have time for the cutter to be shipped."
Charlie vaguely remembered that there was a wedding coming up in Middlesex, which meant almost everybody in town would be going to either the bachelor or the bachelorette party. "You're actually going to make these cookies." He battled a sinking sensation. "Did someone ask for them?"
"In a way." Charlie's mother gave him a coy glance. "I haven't had a chance to tell you, Charlie, but the bakery seems to be going in a different direction. A very profitable direction, I might add."
"I told him something about it on Monday night." Rick winked at Charlie. "Right, cuz?"
"Yeah, but I thought. . . well, Middlesex doesn't seem like the place for ... I'm just surprised that people .. ." He balanced precariously between happiness and embarrassment. On the one hand, he was thrilled to see his mother so excited about something, but on the other, why did it have to be X-rated baked goods?
"Puritan blood, Charlie." His mother looked smug. "Myrtle and I were surprised, too, but then we figured it out. Nobody's more interested in the topic of sex than folks who have Puritan blood in their veins."
"Makes sense to me." Rick studied the cookie picture. "And these cookies should scratch that itch for the Friday night deal. There's a lot of detail in here."
Too much detail, as far as Charlie was concerned. Besides, he didn't want to have his mind on sex when he was about to go over to Eve's. He'd thought this through and had decided that because of the timing, he couldn't get involved with Eve. He could only help her with the hovercraft.
"It's the detail in the frosting that will take us so many hours," Aunt Myrtle said. "We could really use some help."
Charlie backed away, hands out. "I'm not helping frost. My evenings are booked."
His mother laughed. "I wasn't going to ask, but now that you mention it, we might get Manny and Kyle to do it. They're nice boys, and I'll bet they'd help. We need to get most of them done tonight, because we have to start on the wedding cake tomorrow night. Some extra hands would be a lifesaver."
For some reason Rick got a huge charge out of that. "Yeah, ask Manny and Kyle. I'll bet they'd love to."
"We will, then." Charlie's mother looked ten years younger tonight. "We'll have a frosting party."
Charlie decided to comfort himself with his mother's cheerful mood. "And now we really have to go," he said.
"Right." Rick drained his glass and stood. "See you two entrepreneurs later."
"Have a good time!" Charlie's mother called after them as they headed for the front door. "That Eve's a very nice girl!"
Rick lowered his voice as he pulled on his coat. "You do realize she wants to match you up with Eve, right?"
Charlie snorted. "No. Where'd she get a wild idea like that?"
"The word's out that you had a pool date on Monday, and you're going over to her house tonight, so gossip has you engaged by next week."
"I hope this isn't some plan to keep me in Middlesex." Charlie followed Rick out the door and down the steps to the motorcycle parked in the drive.
"Nah. Your mom understands that you're hoping to get that job in Nevada. She just wants grandkids."
"I barely know Eve." Except that didn't seem true. Although they hadn't met until Monday afternoon, he'd felt an instant sexual attraction. On top of that, he'd recognized a kindred spirit. He knew Eve because he knew himself.
"Whatever you say. I'm only reporting the word around the breakfast table is that you're stuck on her." He handed Rick his spare helmet. "Well, I'm not." Yet.
Denise was coming. Eve had been trying not to panic for two days, but her self-talk wasn't working. The minute she hit the front door her tummy started to churn. Denise was so neat, so together, so critical. She would take one look at the clutter that was Eve's life and—
My door is unlocked. She had a moment of panic. She didn't have anything valuable in the house except the hovercraft, but what if vandals had come in?
She almost stumbled over the big box sitting in her entryway, and then remembered that Eunice had taken delivery of the new engine while she was gone.
Although FedEx could have delivered packages to Eunice's house, Eve liked this arrangement better. Then neither of them had to lug heavy boxes across the yard.
Okay, so Eunice had forgotten to lock the door after her. That could happen. And it wasn't like New York where a locked door was critical to life as she knew it. The Middlesex police report might include a stolen bicycle and a speeder or two. That was about it.
And her engine had arrived! Once she'd pried the box open and looked inside at that gorgeous piece of equipment, she could barely make herself close the box. No doubt about it, she was obsessed with making the hovercraft fly using veggie fuel, and this engine was the key component. She resented every moment she had to spend doing something else.
Three months ago she'd searched the Internet for a supplier who would give her what she wanted, an engine small enough to fit into her hovercraft without adding excess weight and large enough to power her invention. Then she'd blown it up. Here was the replacement, and she wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.
With great reluctance she closed the flaps on the box. Now was not the time. Instead she had to brainwash herself into full cleaning mode, "cleaning" being a euphemism for shoving everything out of sight.
But first she'd drag the engine box out to the garage and take another look at her beloved purple Slammer. After all, she hadn't seen it since Tuesday morning. By the time she got the box through the kitchen door into the garage, she was puffing. But her baby sat there in all its magnificence waiting for the new engine. And thanks to some fuel research she'd done on the Internet while she was in New York plus the book she'd read on the train, she had some ideas for that, too.
In fact, she ought to make some notes before she lost track of what she'd read in the hotel room last night. After turning on the space heater to warm up the garage, she crossed to her workbench and looked for the pile of notes she'd left there. For some reason they weren't under the Darth Vader mask paperweight where she always kept them.
That was irritating. Her workbench wasn't
the most orderly place in the world. Nothing in this house was what anyone would call orderly, but she'd always been able to find her notes. She checked everywhere else they might be, even inside the cockpit of the hovercraft. Nothing.
Feeling more disoriented by the minute, she rummaged through the kitchen, looking in drawers and cupboards. Still nothing. And time was running short. Charlie and Rick would be here soon, and she'd hoped to get the house straightened before they arrived. If she didn't, then it wouldn't get done. She knew once Charlie was here she'd be completely absorbed in the hovercraft project.
Maybe she'd come across the notes while she was cleaning up. Now there was a good thought. She'd search for the notes and tackle the mess at the same time.
Her closets were basically staffed already, but she managed to shift a few things and push some unread fiction books inside, along with the videos she'd bought and never watched and the collection of beads she'd accumulated back when she'd thought it might be an okay hobby.
For years she'd tried to interest herself in a more peaceful pastime, one that wouldn't cause explosions and alarm the neighbors, but all her efforts in that direction had seemed wimpy and dull. Why make a necklace when you could create a hovercraft? But she kept trying to be normal, which was why she also had a rock tumbler and a sack full of rocks that had to go somewhere.
She tacked them under her round bed, although the hand loom and calligraphy set were already taking up most of the space. A rectangular bed would have more storage space underneath. Maybe she ought to consider trading in her round bed for a traditional one.
Because the washing machine wasn't working, anyway, she filled it with whatever she didn't know what else to do with—unread fashion magazines, widgets she'd bought at the Middlesex Hardware Store because they looked interesting, the box of candy she didn't like but couldn't bear to toss because the receptionist at her talent agency had given it to her. And on top of all that went the book she'd bought on how to unclutter your life. She hadn't made it past the first chapter.
Denise would be sleeping in what Eve laughingly called her guest room, a den that opened off the living area. At the moment the daybed was buried under a mound of clothes still in their plastic dry-cleaning bags. Her broken washing machine had forced her to get everything but her underwear professionally cleaned. Scooping the bundle into her arms with a crackle of static electricity, she looked underneath, hoping to see her notes. No such luck.
She was on her way toward her bedroom down the hall when the doorbell rang. A glance at the clock told her it was still too early for Charlie and Rick. "Come in!" she called. "It's open!"
Then she wondered if maybe she was carrying her complacency about unlocked doors too far. The crime rate might be low in this little town, but that didn't mean she should invite someone in without having a clue who they were. A burglar might have recently located in Middlesex.
So she stood there with her arms full of her dry cleaning, unsure what she'd do if the person on the other side of the door had theft in mind. Smother them in cleaning bags? Jab them with a metal hanger?
She was relieved when Eunice walked in, stomping snow from her booted feet. She held up two bottles. "I brought wine!"
"Well, um, thanks." Eve needed wine tonight about like a battery needed a bow tie. She had two goals—work on the hovercraft and work on Charlie. She wanted a clear head for both projects.
"Not for you and Charlie, of course. You'll be operating machinery and such. But Rick and I could have some." Eunice plunked the bottles down on the floor and started taking off her coat.
"Yes, you certainly could have some." And a bottle apiece should keep them busy while Eve worked her program. "Not that it's any big deal or anything, but is it possible you forgot to lock the front door after the FedEx man was here?"
Eunice frowned. "I don't think so. Was it unlocked when you came home?"
"Yeah, but don't worry about it."
"Jeez, if I forgot to lock it I really apologize. Are you missing anything?"
Eve thought of her notes, but they could still turn up somewhere. "No," she said and decided to change the subject. "Did you decide for or against the cell phone?"
"Against." Eunice had piled her blond hair in a fancy arrangement on top of her head, and she wore a slinky red lounging outfit. "I think this should do the trick."
Eve surveyed the generous display of cleavage. "You know, I always wondered exactly what they meant by a plunging neckline. Now I get it."
"This sucker plunges like Niagara Falls, doesn't it? If I move just right you'll get a glimpse of the diamond I have in my belly button. Well, cubic zirconium, to be honest, but if somebody gets close enough to check, they're going to be interested in something besides gem quality." Eunice glanced at Eve's burden. "Sarah down at the Press 'n' Go probably paid off her Toyota after you picked up that load."
"This is an accumulation. My washing machine's broken."
Eunice leaned against the wall and pulled off her boots. "I'm surprised you haven't fixed it yourself." She took a pair of jeweled sandals from her purse and slipped them on her feet. "You being so mechanical and all."
"Fixing broken things is boring. Making something new that didn't exist before—now that I can get into."
"So I've noticed."
Eve shifted the weight of her dry cleaning. "I'd better put these away. Make yourself at home." The comment was superfluous for Eunice, who always did that, anyway. "I'll be right ba—" The doorbell rang, and this time, she figured it would be Charlie and Rick.
In case she had any doubts on that subject, Eunice reacted by racing to the peephole and sucking in her breath.
"It's them?" Eve asked.
"He is so gorgeous that if I were a nun, I'd leave the order for him."
"Fortunately for you and the Catholic church, you're not a nun." Eve was delighted with Eunice's choice of guy. That left Charlie free and clear. "Are you going to open the door?"
"Yes." Eunice stepped back and grabbed her purse from the floor. Taking out a breath spray, she gave her mouth a couple of shots before dropping the spray back in her purse and balancing the purse on top of her boots. Then she spit on her fingers and twirled them around the tendrils of hair that had been allowed to hang artfully from her upswept do.
"Are you going to open the door anytime in the near future?"
The doorbell rang again. Eunice glanced over at Eve and smiled. "Is there lipstick on my teeth?" she asked without changing expression.
"Not that I can see." Eve's glasses were smudged from her frantic efforts to straighten up the place, but she didn't bother to tell Eunice. That would mean at least another minute delay while Eunice waited for her to clean the lenses.
"Does this smile show too much of my gums?" Eunice looked like a ventriloquist, talking like that without moving her lips.
"Eunice, open the damned door."
"Okay." Throwing back her shoulders, Eunice kept her smile in place as she opened the door. "Charlie! Rick! What a nice surprise!"
"Well, hello there, Eunice." Rick's gaze took in the Niagara Falls plunge. "Talk about a nice surprise! I froze my ass riding over here with Charlie, but you make the sacrifice worthwhile."
"Eve invited me." Eunice twirled a loose strand of blond hair around her finger. "I brought wine."
"Excellent." Rick continued to block the door while he stared at her.
"I brought pizza." Charlie shouldered his way past his cousin and nudged the door closed with his knee. His dark-framed glasses fogged up immediately. "And it's hot, so we might want to—" He paused and squinted at Eve through the misty lenses. "Are you holding a whole bunch of clothes?"
She'd been so fascinated by the interaction between Rick and Eunice that she'd forgotten the bundle in her arms. "My dry cleaning."
"That's a boatload of dry cleaning."
She didn't think in Charlie's world that was a good thing. He didn't look like the kind of guy who liked high-maintenance women. "My washing mach
ine's broken, so I've had to take stuff to Press 'n' Go." She found herself staring at his leather chaps and remembering how they'd framed his buns the first time they'd met. The chaps did a similar favor for his package.
"Your washing machine's broken?" Charlie shoved the pizza boxes against Rick's chest. "Here. Hold these."
Rick was so busy ogling Eunice that it took him a couple of seconds to respond and grab the boxes. "Uh, okay."
"I'm going to take a minute to look at Eve's washing machine." Charlie was out of his coat and boots and chaps in no time. Then he did a quick polish of his glasses before he padded over to Eve in his socks. "Where is it?"
"Really, that's okay." She was struck by how gallantly he'd leaped to her aid, and how seeing him in his socks made her wonder how he'd look with a few more items of clothing removed. "I wouldn't expect you to fix it. I'm sure it needs ... something. I should have called a repair person, but I—"
"Ah, no reason to call somebody. I can fix it."
"He probably can," Rick said. "If it has moving parts, Charlie can fix it. He's pretty much the repair king."
"Then by all means, Eve, let the man do what he does best," Eunice said. "Rick and I can drink wine in the kitchen until you two come back."
Eve could see how this had played right into Eunice's hands. No telling what would happen in the kitchen if Eve and Charlie left Eunice alone with Rick and two bottles of wine. But one glance at Charlie's eager expression convinced Eve that she had to go along with the repair option. Rejecting Charlie's skills would be the same as rejecting him, and she wasn't about to do that.
"Okay, follow me," she said. "I'll drop these off in my bedroom on the way." She started down the hall.
"We'll be in the kitchen if you need us," Eunice called after her.
"Start on the pizza too if you want," Charlie said before following Eve. "This should be quick, but just in case it isn't, go ahead and eat."
"We might, at that, cuz," Rick said. "It smells great. I never could resist a piping hot pizza."
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