by Sylvie Kaye
Jilly had wanted to add that Zachary taking the job was good news. So was not having to chase down any more want ads. But no one finished a sentence when her aunt had something to say. She wondered how Zachary handled interruptions.
It didn't take long to find out. “Jilly, I caught your name when you came in. You didn't take the time this morning to introduce yourself. Call me Zack."
He reached out again, and she loosened the hold on her packages. Even before his hand touched hers, she could feel his body heat radiate. This close up, he smelled of soap and man, a heady combination. When their palms touched, his grip felt firm and gentle, not rough in the least like she would've expected from such a rugged man. A tingle of excitement shot up her arm to her elbow.
And must've messed with her crazy bone because crazy things began happening.
The crystal on her wristwatch seemed to fog up, and she was sucked into some kind of time warp. Her heartbeat calmed, quiet settled over her. She never felt this relaxed even when she was sound asleep. Her brain blanked. Nothing existed but her and the man and a soothing stillness.
Until Aunt Gloria edged between them, her hummingbird ornaments storming around her head. Zack was forced to release her hand, and her life returned to full-tilt boogie.
She braced her spine for the fallout from her aunt. About now, old flames of hers usually flickered before they ran out. Not that Zack was a flame of hers, but she had hopes if he stayed and took the repair job.
Zack held his ground. He didn't budge or flinch under Aunt Gloria's stern scrutiny. “Zachary sounds like such a gentlemanly name,” she said with mild reproach.
Aunt Gloria must've been counting on negotiable to mean cheap, otherwise she'd have ripped into him.
Just then, Aunt Vinny waddled into the parlor, wearing a red jogging suit and tamping a gold-tipped cane. “Did you have a chance to stop at Framer's for my spearmints?"
"Yes, I did.” She handed the graying, sweet-voiced lady a small, pink bag and a coin.
"Keep the change.” Aunt Vinny tweaked her on the cheek as Jilly pocketed the quarter. At this rate, she could afford that Honda Civic in Honda Town's showroom window in about fifteen more years.
"Vinnia.” Aunt Gloria used her sister's proper name, knowing how much Aunt Vinny detested it. She declared it a form of respect whenever her sister protested. “In addition to the kitchen cabinets, Zachary has agreed to repair the ornamentation on Great Cousin Marvin's bookcase that was damaged,” she lowered her voice to a hush, “in The Incident.” She signaled Zack to step in closer, obviously determined to tell him the tale. “Many years before Jilly's birth, Vinnia had a suitor."
"I did?” Aunt Vinny's eyes darted from Zack to Jilly.
Jilly frowned, hoping her aunt wasn't having another of her memory episodes.
"Her fiance tippled too much brandy and toppled over, hitting his head on Great Cousin Marvin's bookcase never to regain consciousness, and proving to the family that I was right all along about the drunkard who was unfit for the Pajeaud family tree.” Aunt Gloria puffed out her lace-ruffled chest, pleased with her part in exposing Aunt Vinny's fiance.
Jilly had heard the tale before, many times. She was beginning to think all men were unfit for the family tree, regardless how hard they climbed. At the present growth rate, their tree was likely to wither and die with no heirs.
"Who did?” Aunt Vinny piped up again.
Jilly checked Aunt Vinny's eyes, which seemed clear and bright. Instead of a memory lapse, she could be egging Aunt Gloria into a spat to get even with her for calling her Vinnia. The sisters liked to push each other's buttons.
Zack glanced at Jilly, his brow wrinkled handsomely—if a man's wrinkled brow could be considered handsome. He looked at a loss, which often happened around the aunts unless one understood the family. She smiled back at him assuringly.
"I tossed my engagement ring back on that very spot.” With an apparent flash of memory, Aunt Vinny pointed her cane toward the Persian rug beneath the bookcase, where with Aunt Gloria's goading she'd broken off her marriage to the unconscious, drunken man.
"Hrrmp.” With one stride, Aunt Gloria stood over the faint reddish stain where Aunt Vinny's fiance had breathed his final breaths while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. “I've always suspected Mr. Fullmer of using the diamond to finance his brand new mortuary."
"Oh, sister, he wouldn't do such a thing. The heirloom ring went to the great beyond in the pocket of my beloved. Papa said so."
Jilly had seen grainy, black-and-white pictures of the rock. Buried with Aunt Vinny's lover or stolen by the funeral director, either way the diamond was a loss. The stone was as big as an eyeball, but still she wondered if it could pay for a mortuary.
Just then, the tinkle, tinkle of the crystal dinner bell saved Zack from more detail than he probably cared to hear about The Incident.
"Of course you'll stay for dinner.” Aunt Vinny latched onto Zachary's arm with her free hand while she leaned on her cane with the other. “Papa will be disappointed if you don't."
"I'd better wash up.” Jilly ducked out of the room on that note. Her Grandpapa was long dead and wouldn't be insisting Zack stay to dinner or any other meal.
"Papa so loves company,” she heard Aunt Vinny say, as Jilly hightailed for the almost spotless white kitchen—minus the several charred cabinets the carpenter had been hired to repair.
A sense of homey comfort washed over her as she inhaled the aroma of vanilla and fresh-baked bread. No sooner did her feet hit the kitchen linoleum than Aunt Adele engulfed her and her packages in her vanilla-scented hug. The pleasant smell clung to everyone who spent any time in the kitchen.
"Did my miserly sister hire him?” Aunt Adele crooked her chin toward the dining room.
"He's hired. Now stop fretting.” Jilly eyed her aunt's flushed cheeks. Ever since her banana rum dessert had flared the cabinets, Aunt Adele's blood pressure had taken roller-coaster spurts.
When Aunt Gloria finally pried open the checkbook this morning and announced, “Find a carpenter, quick, before Adele gives herself a stroke,” Jilly had jumped on the mandate before Aunt Gloria changed her mind.
"I'll calm down when my kitchen is put right again.” Aunt Adele hustled the bags from Jilly, peeking inside before plunking them onto the sideboard of the porcelain white sink. “There aren't any perishables to put away so wash up, Jilly Boo, or you'll throw dinner off schedule."
"Auntie, are you sure there's no cutoff age for calling me Boo?” Jilly lathered her hands with the bar of Ivory soap at the kitchen sink.
"No matter how old you are, you'll always be a child to us."
But Aunt Adele was the only aunt who persisted. The other aunts had stopped calling her by the Cajun term of endearment years ago.
Jilly dried her hands on a blue-checkered kitchen towel her aunt color-coordinated to match her apron daily while saying, “Aunt Vinny invited the carpenter to dinner at Grandpapa's urging."
Aunt Adele clucked.
"If he's going to work here, don't you think someone should tell him?” Jilly asked.
"He'll catch on. All our friends and relatives do eventually.” Aunt Adele smiled. “It's her enthusiasm, you know. She talks to the family members while she tends their graveside flowers and vigil candles. It carries over."
Her aunt untied her flour-splotched apron and with a hardy shake sent flecks of flour and the lucky penny she kept in the pocket flying across the black-and-white blocked linoleum.
The last thing Jilly wanted was for her aunt to lose her luck, so she scrambled for the copper coin.
"What do think, Auntie?” she said afterward. “A little lipstick and mascara to make myself presentable for the unexpected male company?"
"I think you're perfect, Boo, just the way you are."
Jilly clasped her aunt's sturdy shoulder and together they joined the others in the lace-draped dining room, where lace dripped from the windows and spilled across the dining table.
And there stood the big, brawny carpenter, looking lost-in-lace.
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Chapter Three
Crystal glasses, china plates, candles, and a centerpiece of yellow flowers. Looked like every day was a holiday at the Pajeaud dinner table.
Zack stood during introductions and until the aunts and Jilly seated themselves at their accustomed places.
Aunts? Get a load of that. Jilly had him thinking of the women as aunts, too. Not that he'd mind another aunt or two or three. Bob's mom was his only aunt.
"Great chairs.” He ran his fingers along the intricate scrollwork carved onto the teakwood chair back, admiring the carpentry.
"Thank you.” Aunt Vinny blushed, propping her cane against the table.
"You're welcome.” But he didn't have the foggiest what she had to do with the workmanship until Aunt Gloria spoke up.
"Vinnia's needlepoint seats represent eight of the plantations along the bayou."
Oh. He nodded, studied his chair closer. Amongst skipped stitches, he made out moss-draped oaks shading a colonnaded manor house. A deer with antlers that would stop any hunter in his tracks stood in the foreground.
"Nice,” he mumbled and sat down. As soon as he did, three gray heads bowed to say Grace. He met Jilly's eyes across the table for a moment before she lowered her head. In that instant he felt a connection, more familial than lustful. His chest swelled with hope. Maybe Jilly was the answer to his prayers.
Right after the “Amens” Aunt Adele passed around serving bowls steaming with the savory aromas of creamed onions and potatoes, veal in pecan sauce, and fresh green beans with bacon. His mouth watered.
"Restaurants sure don't smell this good.” The main draw at Betty's Bar and Grill where he and his cousin Bob ate breakfast and most dinners was its proximity to the hotel.
Jilly laughed at his backhanded compliment, and the sound cheered his heart.
After digging into the scrumptious meal, he praised the cook outright. “Miss Adele, this is the finest food I've tasted outside of Milwaukee and my mom's pigs in the blankets."
Which his mother only made for family outings twice a year. Over time, she'd grown more and more interested in golf and staying out of Big Al's way than in cooking and staying at home. Zack didn't blame her.
"Call me Aunt Adele, as Jilly does.” She smiled at Jilly, and so did he. “Miss sounds so stuffy."
"You may call me Aunt Vinny,” her other aunt added, seeming to stress the Vinny part, possibly over the more formal sounding Vinnia her other sister had used. She bumped her cane with her elbow as she sampled a forkful of potatoes, and Zack righted it to keep it from falling.
Aunt Gloria hrrmped, her skinny shoulders rigid, but then with a grudging shrug included herself as an aunt.
"Veal is one of Papa's favorites.” Aunt Vinny smoothed the edge of the lacy tablecloth, her brown eyes twinkling as she mentioned her father.
"He won't be joining us?” Zack asked, curious.
All of sudden Jilly's eyes rounded, as if panicked. “I almost forgot, tonight's card night.” She talked as fast as she walked it seemed.
Didn't she ever slow down, even to swallow? Abruptly, she flapped her lashes at him like a goose on takeoff. If that wasn't a distraction he didn't know what was—and it took a lot to overlook the aunts and some of their peculiarities.
"Is it Wednesday already?” Aunt Vinny had a little-girl-lost glaze to her eyes.
Aunt Gloria beamed, her bird ornaments circling her hair like buzzards. “I love to play canasta, particularly when I win."
"I baked an apple crumb cake to take to Hannah's for the card party. She is my oldest, dearest friend, but since she turned seventy she hates to bake,” Aunt Adele explained to Zack. “But she still manages to garden and place wagers.” She looked at Jilly. “I thought we'd have dessert there."
They all looked at Jilly.
"Do you play canasta?” Zack wondered if Jilly hung out with the senior citizen set.
She shook her head, and her blonde hair curved around her neck with a soft swish that left him hard pressed not to reach out and run his fingers through it.
"I'm the designated driver. My aunts have night blindness."
That explained it. He stabbed his fork into his half-eaten dinner to keep his hands occupied. “Are there certain nights of the week I shouldn't come over?"
"The damaged cabinets are such an eyesore for Adele. Perhaps Jilly could merely drop us off at Hannah's,” Aunt Gloria suggested, her golden bird ornaments doing a spin while she further pondered the problem.
The other ladies frowned.
Apparently, they had qualms about leaving a stranger alone in their house. He respected that. Was he expected to wait outside in his truck until Jilly returned from dropping them off? It might be well worth it. The prospect of being alone with her in the apartment raced his pulse.
With soft clinks, Aunt Adele began collecting the stemware. Obviously, she was in-charge of anything having to do with the kitchen and dining and had decided dinner was over. “Apple crumb cake is one of Jilly Boo's favorites."
Jilly Boo? Zack tossed Aunt Adele a puzzled glance as she continued clearing glasses.
"Hannah hoped Jilly might write a letter of complaint to her bookie tonight,” Aunt Gloria said through pinched lips.
"Gloria was going to voodoo him,” Aunt Vinny pointed out with a tap of her cane, “but Hannah insists on warning him first."
"The horse she bet on was Hot To Trot not Pot Shot,” Aunt Gloria huffed. “The man needs a hex to grow larger ears so he can hear properly."
"Hannah's nephew was going to write the letter, but his roommate says he's still away on business.” Aunt Vinny handed her glass to her sister, the sleeve of her red jogging suit narrowly missing the flame from one of the candles.
Jilly slid the candlestick aside with one of her slender hands while she continued to eat. She was good. And quick.
"Hannah so admires Jilly's penmanship.” Aunt Adele smiled with pride, like a doting grandmother, while the other ladies nodded.
Good penmanship must be important to the women, along with smart bets and fast horses. Zack took the opportunity to cast a doting look at Jilly, too, but for his own reasons. As she chewed her last bite of veal and swallowed, he imagined tasting her luscious lips while lingering over a long, get-to-know-you kiss.
When she blotted her mouth from his view with her napkin, he managed to pull his thoughts back to the elderly ladies and their list of problems.
"Will we be stopping at Thompson's for a fruitade on the way home?” Aunt Vinny fretted her gray brows. “Papa always stops at Thompson's."
They all stared at Jilly again, including Zack.
"Of course we'll stop.” Jilly patted Aunt Vinny's hand. “I'll write the letter.” She nodded to Aunt Gloria before turning to Aunt Adele. “I'd never miss out on your apple cider crumb cake."
If she took the time to taste at all, Zack thought. She'd hardly chewed her dinner let alone digested it. If rushing were the norm, Boo was bucking for an ulcer.
Boo sounded like a heck of a pet name. He tried it out. Boo, kiss me here. Boo, touch me there. Boo under the sheets. He tried not to grin.
Instead, he stared into her eyes. For a change they weren't blinking at him, and they were irresistible. His heart pounded like a rubber mallet loosening wood joints.
The clatter of dishes and silverware echoed in his ears. He supposed he should leave. “I'll drop by another time to set up a schedule."
The clatter stopped. “We love schedules,” the ladies chorused almost in unison.
Jilly smiled a brilliant smile. His heart pounded again. “Everything runs on a timetable around here."
"Don't leave yet, young man. I'll wrap up a slice of apple crumb cake for you.” With that, Aunt Adele darted for her kitchen, as fast as a seventy-year-old could dart.
"Take your time, Auntie,” Jilly called after her, but in no time at all, she returned wearing a flou
r-speckled apron and holding a foil wrapped square. The aunts bid Zack a good night while Jilly saw him out.
When they reached the narrow, plaster hall, she led the way. He pretended to admire the ornate, carved doors they passed. But his eyes strayed to the sway of her hips in that pretty pink skirt.
The flap of her sandals kept time with the thud of his heart. Her shiny blonde hair silvered in the halo of the dim sconce lighting. She was sure something to watch when she slowed down.
"Tomorrow night?” he asked when they reached the main entry. Afraid she'd scamper off, he leaned his hand on the heavy wooden doorsill to keep her close. The scent of her filled his lungs. She smelled sweet, like vanilla, like cookies or something.
Her warm breath touched his neck when she spoke. “Come by at seven for dinner.” She smiled, no faint smile, the kind that crinkled her eyes and deepened the blue irises.
"Are you sure?” He didn't want to impose. Not on the elderly aunts. He sure as hell wanted to impose all over their niece though.
Her lush lips tempted him to lean in and take her mouth, slip his tongue into her. But he wanted to kiss her slow and thorough. Explore and savor.
Doing it in the doorway with three aunts nearby wouldn't cut it.
Restraining himself, he pulled away, stood up straight and returned her smile.
"No imposition,” she said. “Bring your appetite and your compliments. Aunt Adele loves both."
"Zack,” Bob shouted up from the job site courtyard the next day.
Zack clicked off the cell phone and Sir Al. This hotel and the Houston one were both contracted by one of his father's cronies, one he apparently wanted to impress. In doing so, he was pushing Zack, and hard.
Added to that, today had been the kind of day a carpenter's plane couldn't smooth out. For a certainty whatever Bob had to say Zack didn't care to hear.
Zack punched numbers into the cell to reschedule with the cement outfit. Their truck hadn't shown up and neither had two of his workers, the same two who'd bragged about out-drinking one another the day before. Zack found out quick that too much Bourbon Street took its toll on the crew, more so right after payday.