by Sylvie Kaye
"That must've been one heck of a flash-in-the-pan fire,” he muttered. Just how safe was it for the seventy-year-old to be around stoves and flames unsupervised?
Jilly had her hands full with her aunts. She had his sympathy, and something else, a growing warm spot in his heart. She was something, the way she stayed humorous and loving throughout each of their episodes.
Keeping an eye on the offbeat trio would make anyone's eyes twitch. While he worked here, he supposed he could watch out for the old dolls and give her a break. He could watch Jilly while he was at it, too. She was something to look at. As sweet outside as in. Was her heart up for grabs? Maybe...nah. Grabbing hold while she rushed by wasn't his style.
Jilly announced it was time to pick up the ladies from the funeral home. Aunt Vinny grasped for her cane. “I think I'll tag along with you two. A nip of night air and a drive might do me good."
"Count me out,” Zack said. In more ways than one. He wasn't into a hurried relationship. He wanted it slow, tantric and eventually heartfelt. “I have a busy day tomorrow.” He gathered his tools and bid them good night.
"Break.” Bob squinted against the harsh noon sunlight as he climbed the wood-braced stairwell at the job site the next day. He plunked himself and a white takeout bag atop a stack of two-by-four lumber.
Zack shoved the shipping memo he'd been checking into a ledger on the makeshift desk of plywood and sawhorses. He pointed at the paper bag. “What did you get?"
Bob chugged down a half-pint of cold water and swiped at his chin with his blue bandana. “Crab sandwiches and a couple of brochures.” Bob tucked the snowy-peaked travel pamphlets with Alaska emblazoned across the top into his T-shirt pocket and unwrapped a sandwich, then tossed the sack to Zack. Lounging with his back against another pile of planks, he looked eager to chew at more than lunch. “Hear from Stan lately?"
Taking a bottle of water from the ice chest nearby, Zack poured some over the back of his neck to cool down and over his hands to clean up before he sat down on a spackling bucket. “Stan's taking a course in assertiveness."
"Never figured him for the classroom type.” Bob shrugged. “But with Big Al for a father, couldn't hurt."
"A female classmate asked him out so the course's working for her anyway.” They chuckled, and Zack nudged his chin toward Bob's pocket. “What's Alaska got over logging in Oregon or lobstering in Maine?” To recall a few of his cousin's many adventures, which never made it past the planning stages.
"North to the Future,” Bob replied, apparently quoting the brochure.
Zack pulled the paper away to sniff at the soft-shell crab po'boy before taking a bite, not sure whether to spit or swallow afterward.
"How's Miss No Name?” Bob asked, newsy as always.
"Her name's Jilly.” After a few chews, he put the sandwich on his shit list, along with Big Al's guff and a few other things he was fed up with around the site.
"You and Jilly hitting it off?” Bob asked, a snicker visible beneath his mouthful of French bread.
"I hit it off with the whole family.” He washed down the crab with a slug of water, but the salty, fishy taste lingered in his mouth.
"Family? She have sisters?” Bob perked up and sawdust sifted through the planks.
"Just aunts, older ones."
"There's something to be said for mature, experienced women."
"There's a lot to be said for these three.” Zack grinned, about to get over on his relentless cousin and still tell the truth. “Aunt Vinny keeps the family united. Dead or alive."
"Totes a six-gun, eh.” Bob nodded. “A woman who knows how to wrap her hands around a pistol has my admiration."
Zack groaned. “Aunt Adele wears an apron and is a probable tippler. Her desserts are a hundred proof."
"Hard liquor's a plus, and I got a thing for that French maid look."
"Aunt Gloria rules the roost.” Zack figured that was an apt description.
"A dominatrix.” Bob's eyes lit up. “I have to meet them."
"I'll see what I can do.” Zack chuckled. He couldn't wait to arrange this meeting. On second thought, it might be unfair to the aunts. “If you were smart, you'd head for Alaska. If I was, I'd skip the woodworking."
"You're not going to be smart though, are you?"
"I like Jilly. But I don't want to like her."
Bob crossed his cement-flecked, work-booted feet. “She's beautiful, built, and nearby. What's wrong with that?"
"Digging deeper takes time. I don't think Jilly has any to spare."
"Only one way to find out.” Bob waggled his boots. “What do you got to lose?"
Only his heart, to a woman who might not want to give him the time of day.
That afternoon, Jilly doled out snacks of plump raisins and vanilla wafers while Meghan, the part-time aide at Tiny Tykes, rounded up the yawning, sleepy-eyed kids after their naps. Anne poured milk and apple juice, for the lactose intolerant, into tike-sized papercups, lined up on a bright red tray.
"What's the word on the dating front?” she asked.
Jilly shrugged her shoulders, but Ann's upraised white brows said she wasn't taking silence for an answer. “He hasn't asked me out.” Jilly nibbled on a wafer, not sure what else to say.
The sizzle that generated between her and Zack had volatile potential. But the annoying way time seized up whenever he touched her didn't. Those long, lingering moments drew her into a quiet intimacy she didn't have time for in her busy life.
So far she'd been able to jumpstart things by sheer will during those long standstills, but for how much longer?
"But...” Ann coached, “I know there's a but in your glazed eyes somewhere."
Jilly swallowed her last bite of cookie, deciding to tell Ann some of the details from last night. “Things got pretty heated in the kitchen and it had nothing to do with the oven."
"Oh.” Ann finished pouring the drinks and handed the tray to Meghan. “What happened with all that heat?"
"Aunt Vinny happened. She came home unexpectedly. Poor thing was ailing."
"Nothing serious I'm sure."
Jilly shook her head before serving the kids their snacks.
"I thought not.” Ann waved her over to the kitchen area. “Meghan can handle the kids while we keep an eye out from here."
Ann poured steamy lattes from her thermos, the rich aromas of roasted coffee and cinnamon blending. With their elbows perched on the yellow Formica counter, they watched the children and sipped their hot drinks.
"We were fortunate a bromide fixed Aunt Vinny up,” Jilly said after a while.
"Just my guess, but either during or after Vinny's attack wasn't the best time for Zack to ask you on a date."
"I suppose not. But there is never a best time around our house."
"Then ask him out."
Jilly choked on her latte. Ann had a way of getting right to the point.
"Don't act shocked. I've invited a fellow or two out after my quilting lessons."
"There are men in your quilting class?” Jilly had wondered about Ann's dating life. She wasn't surprised by the news, maybe envious.
"Yes, and they're the virile ones who are in touch with their feminine sides.” Ann clapped her hands toward the plastic-molded bench table. “Molly, eat from your own plate."
"Yes, Ms. Ann.” The toddler placed the half-eaten cookie she held in her small fist back onto the plate next to hers.
"What do you say to Henry?"
"I'm sorry, Henry.” The little girl's milky-rimmed mouth turned down into a pout, even her red braids drooped. Yet Jilly suspected the miniature Drew Barrymore wasn't as sorry for taking Henry's treat as she was for getting caught.
He smiled at Molly. She grinned back.
Crisis averted, Ann turned to Jilly. “Some of the men in my group are pretty good quilters.” She laughed. “And don't try to change the subject."
"Sorry, Ms. Ann."
Over the rim of her coffee mug, which was decorated with a straigh
t-edged ruler and the words PRESCHOOL RULES, Ann shot Jilly her best don't-mess-with-me stare.
The look was known to make small children pee their pants. Jilly buckled. “Asking him out does sound time efficient. Beats waiting around for him to invite me somewhere,” she admitted. “But not for coffee. Aunt Adele would have a fit if she thought her coffee wasn't fit."
Ann choked, having endured coffee at her aunts’ house a time or two. “So, invite him to a movie,” she suggested once she swallowed.
"I don't have enough time right now. Maybe during semester break when my final is over."
"A walk?” Ann frowned over at Molly to ward off a seeming food fight. The child smiled and clasped both her hands together almost prayer-like. The little angel was out to show off all her tricks for Henry on his first day at Tiny Tykes, and he was both eager and gullible.
Used to carrying on interrupted chats, Jilly picked up where they'd left off. “A walk's okay, but where?"
"The park, around the block, the cemetery.” Ann was full of suggestions. She wasn't letting Jilly not walk.
"The cemetery's out. Aunt Vinny's always up for visiting some relative or another. The park might be okay. I'll wait until Saturday when I can squeeze in an hour for a walk."
"Then it's settled.” Ann clinked her mug to Jilly's. “Here's to the both of us getting lucky."
But luck had Molly to contend with first. “You know Henry?” Molly said late in the day, her cheeks flushed the same shade of red as her braids.
"Yes, I know Henry,” Jilly said.
"You know...you know,” she gulped, “how we sometimes hide?"
"You aren't supposed to hide, but I know. Go on, Molly.” This didn't sound promising and panic began tying Jilly's stomach into a square knot. “Ann, please, come here.” She kept her voice steady while her eyes searched the room for Henry. All the other kids had gone for the day.
While Henry and Molly had been putting together a five-piece, Harry Potter jigsaw puzzle, Jilly and Ann were busy handing off lunch boxes and children. The end of the day wasn't usually so hectic, but an un-forecasted downpour had caused a rush of wet umbrellas, raincoats, double-parked cars, and all-around confusion.
"Molly has something to tell us,” Jilly said once Ann joined them. The teacher was much better at drawing stuttering confessions or shy secrets from the children.
Ann sat on the wicker rocker and drew the tot up on her ample lap. Enveloping Molly in her arms, she stroked the child's freckled, thin arm. “Now, tell me."
"Henry hided and I can't find him.” Molly's eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Jilly's gut fought its tightening knot.
"Where do you think he is?” Ann's hushed voice soothed. “Where did you see him last?"
Molly hopped down from Ann's lap and tugged on her hand. “I'll show you.” She pulled Ann toward the utility closet. Jilly trailed behind. When Ann pulled on the door, Henry giggled. Only thing, the door didn't open.
Ann tugged again with no luck, and Molly's eyes widened.
"Molly why don't you come over to the desk with me and have a cup of juice while I place some calls.” Ann urged the child on ahead of her. In a hurried whisper, she said to Jilly, “This door should've been fixed. I've told Mrs. Maynard about the problem in writing, on the phone, and on Fridays when she comes by to pick up the receipts."
"I know you did,” Jilly said. Mrs. Maynard, the owner of Tiny Tykes, had opened two more preschool centers around New Orleans, leaving their only handyman and janitor harried and scarce.
"Keep yanking while I call emergency numbers.” Ann scurried after Molly.
Jilly yanked. The door rattled but didn't budge, and Henry squealed his delight. Jilly sighed. At least he wasn't scared.
"The police are covering a bank robbery, can you believe it?” Ann said after she hung up the phone. “And the Fire Department's been called out on a four-alarm fire. Lightning has hit a gas station across town and the neighborhood's in jeopardy of going up in flames. Henry's parents must be in transit and are out of cell phone range."
Ann's hair had popped out of her bun in bunches. This was not a good sign.
"Henry's doing okay,” Jilly assured her friend. “He's still giggling."
Moments later, with a frantic knock on the door, Molly's mother arrived in a fluster. “The rainstorm has passed,” she said. “I'm sorry I'm late but there's a robbery, a fire, and roadblocks around town."
Jilly thanked her for the report. Without so much as a glance in poor Henry's direction, Molly scampered off for home. She was all ‘you knows,’ relating the hide-and-seek incident to her mother on their way out the door.
While Jilly locked up again, Ann rummaged through the kitchenette drawers. “No tools in here. Nothing but a butter knife."
"All the tools are in a box in the utility closet,” Jilly pointed out. “Along with the cleaning solutions."
"Stacked on the top shelf well out of the reach of bitty hands,” Ann said with a grateful sigh.
Jilly and Ann took turns with the kitchen knife, stabbing at the hinges of the door and poking the striker plate without any success. In between they teased Henry, “Do I hear a giggle? Hmmm, is that Henry's giggle?"
After a bit, Henry giggled less and yawned. “I'm going to take my nappy now."
After one last jab at the screws on the doorknob, Jilly handed the knife back to Ann. Near tears, Ann said, “What are we going to do?"
"I'll phone our tenant. If the police station hasn't called Mickey out to assist at the robbery or the fire maybe he can help.” Jilly squeezed Ann's shoulder. “If I can't reach him, I'll call my aunts. Zack might be there by now. He has tools. Carpenters surely know how to un-jam doors."
Not long after her call home, Zack pulled up at Tiny Tykes. As soon as she glimpsed his blue truck, Jilly rushed to the door. She all but wanted to kiss him.
Looking capable and strong, he toted his toolbox in his large hand. The sight of him unknotted her fears. “You got here quick.” Her shoulders relaxed and relief sank in.
"A robbery rerouted the traffic around Royal Street which worked in my favor."
"There wasn't anyone left to call,” she said by way of apology. “Mickey Muller, our neighbor, wasn't home."
Zack touched her cheek, but she denied herself the comfort of leaning into his palm. Too needy.
"Where's the boy?” he asked.
"Over here.” She led him to the utility closet.
"Do you think you can pry the door open?” Ann grasped Zack's arm. “The child's been quiet. He said he was taking a nap, but I'm worried. I wish his mother was here."
"She's probably stuck in traffic. Don't worry. I'll get the boy out.” Zack plopped the toolbox onto the floor, took out a hammer and screwdriver, and got busy.
Tap, tap, tap. After wedging the tip of the screwdriver beneath the head of the pin holding the hinge, he banged lightly but steadily. At first paint chips flew. Then, slowly, the pin released. Jilly and Ann let out audible sighs.
Zack nodded at them and went to work on the remaining two hinges, loosening one and then the other. Soon all three pins were removed and with a flex of his muscled arms, he lifted the door away.
Asleep, Henry lay at their feet. His brown curly head was snuggled onto a wooly dust mop. When the big man knelt down and lifted the small boy into his arms, Henry's eyelids flickered open. “Hiya,” he said.
"Hi.” Zack smiled down at the sleepy child.
"Naptime's over, Henry.” Ann gave the boy a quick cuddle, then hurried away. “I have to call the police and the Fire Company to cancel our emergency."
Jilly ruffled Henry's unruly curls, needing to touch him.
Zack set the boy's red sneakered feet onto the floor. “What's your name, little guy?"
"Henr-eee,” the child said. “Where's Molly?"
"Molly had to go home,” Jilly explained.
"Without telling me.” Henry stubbed the toe of his sneaker into the carpet.
S
he nodded to the boy. Yes, without so much as a goodbye. Maybe Molly knew something about handling the opposite sex. She'd stolen his cookie, lied about her regret, and locked him in a closet, yet Henry seemed to miss her.
Henry pointed up at the large man. “Who are you?"
Zack squatted down to get eye-to-eye with the boy, but was still taller. “My name's Zachar-eee."
Jilly grinned, her heart swelling for the sweet man. Wasn't he adorable drawling out his e's like Henry did? He sounded every bit as cute, too.
"Thackar-eee.” Henry tried to repeat the name. He sometimes had trouble with his s and z sounds.
"You're pretty good at hiding,” Zack said.
Ann returned just then. Poor woman, her hair bun appeared all but destroyed. “Thank you so much Mr—” She extended her hand.
"Bigatowsky. Zachary. As I was just telling young Henry here.” He patted the boy on the shoulder, then stood to shake hands with Ann.
"I'm Ann Lily. It was grand of you to come to our aid.” Ann clasped his broad, capable hand in both of hers. “Thank you so much."
"I was glad to help out. If you want, I'll hang the door properly."
"Oh, yes,” Ann gushed.
As Zack turned to the task, Jilly and Ann checked Henry over to assure themselves he was all right. Once they were convinced, they escorted him, one on each side, into the kitchen area for a juice drink. Henry wasn't about to get out of their eyesight again.
While he sipped his drink, Ann told an upbeat story about clowns and puppies to get everyone's minds off the averted crisis. Jilly called her aunts, who were freaked out over the storm and all the other happenings, and promised she'd be home soon. A pounding sent Jilly scurrying to unlock the door while Ann stood guard over Henry.
"We're late,” Henry's disheveled mom said in a spurt, dashing over to her child. “My husband will be here in a minute, he's parking the car. The traffic held us up. There's a fire."
"We heard,” Jilly said. “How bad is it?"
"The blaze is under control, but many of the roads are detoured.” Although the rain had stopped she fussed over Henry, wriggling him into his yellow rain slicker anyway. “How was your first day?” She kissed his cheek.