by Sylvie Kaye
Sure enough, Aunt Gloria targeted him. The bird ornaments in her hair should've been vultures. From the moment she opened the door she circled him. Buzzing around the kitchen and pantry, she talked nonstop in a pitch high enough to drown out the soft tones of the classical music playing in the background. If there was any peace in woodworking, she killed it for him.
"Jilly's still running errands,” she revealed during one of her monologues. “And if Vinnia's memory serves her right, Jilly's having dinner out."
By the time Aunt Adele tinkled the crystal dinner bell he'd had enough. “I can't stay. Big Al's faxing over the blueprints for the Texas job. He wants me to look at them ASAP."
"You're going to Texas?” Aunt Gloria's face lit up. “How soon?"
"I'm not going. The hotel owner wants my opinion on the Houston plans. My father or my brother Stan will supervise the project.” More than likely his father would. Stan still hadn't gotten up the guts to stand up to the old man.
On his way out, Zack stopped by the dining room. “I won't be having dinner."
Aunt Vinny snatched up a china plate. “I'll take away the extra place setting.” She didn't insist he stay.
He half-hoped he'd run into Jilly in the courtyard on her way back home. He didn't. Was Eric joyriding her around on her errands? Or worse, was he the one dining with her?
Zack didn't speed back to his room. He didn't have any architectural plans to look over. Hell, he'd already seen them.
His head buzzed while he drove. What he needed was balance, centering. What he didn't need were three aunts opposing him from every direction.
Did he really want to pursue Jilly under these conditions? Did he want to continue working part-time at the house in his present state of mind?
No, but meditation and yoga could change his state of mind. As soon as he entered his hotel room, he stripped off his boots and socks and hopped onto the bed to sit cross-legged.
Bigatowskys weren't quitters.
That's what he preached to Stan about taking his rightful place as a foreman. That's what he told himself about not leaving until the construction job in New Orleans was finished, regardless how hard his father rode him. That's what he chanted in his bed, wishing for a shot with Jilly.
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Chapter Thirteen
In a low voice Jilly said, “Ann, I think there's a conspiracy."
"Yes. It's too quiet. The little rugrats are probably planning to overthrow us."
Naptime at Tiny Tykes was more peaceful than usual. A morning field trip to the park and a wild chase with two wily squirrels had tired the kids out.
Jilly and Ann sat at the office desk where they could watch over the snoozing pink and blue blankie-covered bundles and still enjoy iced latte.
"Not the kids,” Jilly said. “I mean my aunts."
"Who are they planning to overthrow? A foreign government?” Ann licked at the frosty foam heaping her cup.
Jilly wheeled her office chair closer to Ann's. “I think they've conspired to keep Zack and me apart.” It had been days since she'd been able to talk to him without being shadowed by one of her aunts, and her class break was ticking by.
"This surprises you?” Ann's eyes widened.
"They've singled out Zack. They don't seem to mind if I go out with Eric and his roommate."
"Eric and Ken. Some problem. Too many men, too little time.” Ann chuckled. “I'm glad to see your social life has picked up."
"Eric and Ken are living dolls. Ken more so than Eric, but that's another story. Those two are like brothers to me. Well, Ken is more like a sister. He's advising me on my hair and makeup.” Jilly fussed with the stray wisps around her face that Ken had snipped with cuticle scissors the other night over at the guys’ apartment.
"I noticed the new up-do. Sexy. Very J-Lo.” Ann sipped at her latte and glanced at the sleeping kids.
"The point is my aunts don't mind if I spend time away from home with Eric and Ken. But whenever Zack's around they consume my every spare moment. We can barely exchange a private word much less plan a day or night out.” Or explore her attraction to his mesmerizing eyes and mouth.
"Hmm, I wonder why?"
"They seem to have gotten it into their heads that he'd carry me off up North and stick them in a nursing home. I assured them otherwise, but you know my aunts."
"I know they have vivid imaginations."
Jilly crooked a tolerant smile. “They're inventive, too. Attacks were big last week. Indigestion, sneezing, hiccups. Accidents are this week's biggy. They've tripped over carpets and ants, and I fear they're working up to outright falling down because two of them are starting to wobble."
"Sounds as if they're serious as well as obvious.” Ann's tone didn't hold any humor for the situation.
Jilly slouched back in her chair, resigned to her fate. She and Zack would never get together before her break ended, and she'd start another frantic semester with loneliness and frustration still weighing on her.
"Short of leaving home and moving into your own place, you have one other alternative. You could sneak out instead of move out.” Ann nodded, her silver hair picking up a gleam beneath the fluorescent lighting.
"Sneak around. That's...that's—” But Jilly couldn't think of one reason not to.
"The idea is deliciously naughty and appealing and you know it."
Every hair on Ann's head stayed in place. That had to count for something in the way of omens. “How will I know if he's into secret dating?"
"First we'll work out the sneaky details and then see how interested he is. But I need a chance to think. Meanwhile, you can run the notion by those living doll friends of yours. It's about time you had somebody to talk to who doesn't have gray hair."
"Okay, I will.” Jilly wasn't used to inaction. Any action was better than the restlessness she felt.
They fell silent. One of the kiddy bundles rolled over in his sleep and called, “Daddy,” before settling back down.
"What's it like to have a father?” Jilly asked Ann. She'd never known her parents. Thanks to her aunts she'd had lots of females influencing her life, but no males.
The older woman shook her head. “It's not all it's cracked up to be. My father was indifferent to both me and my mother. More so after his accident when he became wheelchair bound. When my mother died, I felt obliged to take care of him."
Before she could question her friend any further, Henry cranked out a whine from beneath his blue blanket. “She's touching my blankie."
A pink blanket, with a giggle sounding like Molly's, shook. Talk about sneaky. The little heartbreaker could give Jilly lessons.
Late that evening, long after another unsuccessful try to get Zack alone, Eric showed up offering to take her for a drive. Sure enough, her aunts didn't protest but tottered off to bed. So at ten o'clock, as Jilly and Eric drove out into the night, she realized her interfering aunts had to be stopped.
"You're late.” Ken handed her a wineglass as soon as he swung open the apartment door.
"We had to wait to tuck the old sweethearts in.” Eric snatched the glass from Jilly and downed it. “Tastes like watered down wine."
"I fixed a pitcher of spritzers and some hors d'oeuvres.” He glared at Eric. “There's also a bottle of white wine on ice.” Jabbing his finger between Jilly's eyes, he said, “We can't eat, drink or be merry until Jilly un-wrinkles that awful frown line."
She ducked his index finger and heeled off her shoes while Ken scooted over to the sofa.
Eric kicked the door shut and handed Jilly her now empty glass back. “I don't see why we can't afford glasses that hold more than an ounce.” He trotted over to the ice bucket to splash wine into another chic but tiny wineglass, then joined Ken on the sofa.
Jilly paced a bit, not knowing where to start.
"Relax, Jilly. You're wound tighter than the island braids I did for you last week.” Ken cracked his knuckles. “I think she needs a menage a trois. Three on a mass
age.” He laughed and elbowed Eric.
"I need advice.” Jilly stopped pacing and plunked the empty glass Eric had handed her onto a soapstone coaster. “And afterward, maybe a massage."
"Sounds like man trouble.” Eric swigged back one big gulp from the small glass and emptied it.
"Honey, you've come to the right man. Tell, Kenny all about it."
"Hey, I'm a man, too,” Eric protested.
"But you're on the wrong side of the fence. The man side. I'm on our girlfriend's side.” Ken nudged Eric over and patted the white leather cushion on the other side of him, and Jilly sat down.
"I can be sympathetic. I can get in touch with my feminine side when I have to.” Eric plopped his wineglass onto the glass cocktail table.
"Right.” Ken eyed him sideways, then moved the glass onto a coaster and mopped up the wet ring with his shirtsleeve. “Sometimes he's such an animal, I don't know why I keep him around."
"That's exactly why you keep me around.” Eric winked.
"Never mind us. Who's the man and what's the trouble?” Both men leaned in closer to Jilly. When she hesitated, Ken patted her knee. “Eric and I confessed our secret to you the first night we met."
Jilly took a sip from Ken's wineglass. “But you two have no problems. You're happy, together, and in love. I'm alone, without enough time to even get a man, let alone get him into bed."
"We have problems. Some people, my parents to be exact, aren't exactly thrilled to see us in a relationship together,” Eric said. “If it wasn't for Aunt Hannah's acceptance, I'd have no family."
Before she could offer her sympathy, Ken lightened the mood. “Eric, our girl is talking about sex.” He laughed and covered his eyes. “I'm so shocked."
Jilly had a feeling nothing shocked Ken. “I might be interested in sex with the right man if I had the opportunity. That's my predicament. Aside from seeing you guys, I can't squirm out from my aunts’ sights lately."
"I gather the target of your lust is the hunky carpenter.” Eric got up to fetch the wine bottle from the brushed steel-and-glass credenza.
"Hunky carpenter? Why haven't I heard about him before?"
"He's Jilly's handy repairman. He's either there or just leaving every time I pick her up. Big hands, big everything from what I could see.” Eric wiggled his blond brows.
"No wonder the girl's sexually frustrated.” Ken tapped the glass cocktail table to get Eric's attention. “Better put that bottle back on ice. We're not drinking until we find a way to get Jilly laid. Then we'll toast to our success."
"He's so annoyingly right.” Eric twirled the bottleneck, rattling the ice in the bucket before he sat back down.
"I'm not sexually frustrated,” Jilly said. “Well, not a lot. But that's not the only reason I want to go out with Zack. He's fun, interesting, and caring, even where my aunts are concerned."
"And...” Ken gestured with his fingers for her to say more.
"And hot.” Jilly grinned. “Ann suggested dating in secret, which does have a certain forbidden temptation about it.” Pulse raising, body throbbing allure. Her breathing got catchy just talking about it.
"Girlfriend, you are naughty but nice.” Ken giggled. “And in the right place for advice. Who knows more about clandestine dating than Eric and I?"
Eric glanced at Ken. “If we can't drink yet, can we at least eat? Scheming takes nourishment."
"I'll serve the appetizers."
He disappeared into the kitchen and returned in a matter of minutes, holding out a tray of bubbly, hot crab puffs. While Jilly nibbled a delicate crusty pastry, she said, “There's one hitch. Suppose Zack's not interested in sneaking around with me?"
"He's interested. I saw the way he looks at you.” Eric stuffed a few puffs into his mouth.
"How do I find out ahead of time? Before I make a fool of myself trying to meet in secret with a man who may not want to."
"That might be the tricky part, but as far as your aunts go, I can pick you up and dump you in Zack's lap any time. They seem to trust me due to my Hannah connection.” Eric polished off a few more crab puffs and licked his fingers.
"You'd do that for me?” Jilly was touched.
"Sure. Why not? I'm a romantic at heart. I told you two I had a feminine side."
"That's not feminine. A romantic heart is genderless.” Ken grabbed the tray and shoved it at Jilly. “Have another puff before he eats them all."
She took one and Eric polished off the rest. “What else do you have back there in the kitchen?” He smacked his lips.
"The barbecued shrimp are on a tray ready to go. Put them under the broiler for four minutes, turn, four more and serve."
"I can handle that.” Eric jumped up from the sofa. “You two can start plotting without me. I'll catch up on whatever's going down when I return. I'm a quick study."
"In other words, we'll have to spell it out for him once we figure it out.” Ken rolled his eyes toward the ceiling's track lighting. By the time Eric returned with the serving tray of shrimp, they'd bantered fruitless ideas back and forth. “Oh, why don't you just ask Zack if he's got the hots for you?” Ken said, exasperated.
"No,” Jilly protested. “That's too blunt."
Ken took the tray, passed it around, and set it down on the table, eyeballing Eric. “We can have Eric do it."
"Do what?” Eric munched a shrimp from an oversized toothpick.
"Ask Zack if he's interested in sneaking around with Jilly.” Ken grimaced. “Of course I'll have to coach you on how to be subtle."
"Now you want me to rehearse. The things I don't do for you two."
Jilly reached across Ken and kissed Eric's cheek. “You're a doll."
Eric groaned. “If I am, I caught it from him."
Rehearsals started immediately, over emoted, very dramatic, not too serious ones. Ken cooed in a bowed mouth, “Yoo-hoo, hunky carpenter with the big tool. Aren't I boo-tiful?"
Eric, who was subbing for Zack, flexed his muscles and hitched his pants. “You're sooo beautiful I'm gonna let you play with my hammer."
Jilly snorted a laugh. “I don't think we can use much of this dialogue. Remember, subtle."
"Zack'll take you on the sly or any way he can get you. Believe me,” Eric said. “I'm a guy. I know these things."
Luckily, the following hour of coaching included no snorting and no over-tooled construction worker with shimmying hips or a dimpled butt.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fourteen
The next evening, Jilly watched the glass-domed clock on the desk in the parlor tick off the minutes until six o'clock.
She shrugged, hoping this did the trick. Once Zack completed the cabinets, she'd have no reason to see him again, unless this secret dating took off like a highflying Mardi Gras doubloon.
There was more involved than the inconvenience of finding another possible date to ease her loneliness. She liked Zack. Perhaps too much, considering any relationship between them would most likely be short lived. He'd finish the carpentry, her next semester would start, and they'd drift their separate ways. Eventually, he'd go back to Milwaukee.
The doorbell rang right on cue, and she jumped up. Ken was meeting Jilly's aunts for the first time and promised to be a magnificent distraction.
Jilly answered the door on the first ring with Aunt Gloria and her hummingbird ornaments hot on her sandaled heels. “I'm Gloria, a friend of Eric's aunt.” She dragged Ken by the arm into the parlor. “Hurry sisters, come meet Ken."
She started in on more formal introductions as soon as Aunt Vinny's chair stopped rocking, and Aunt Adele, who'd flitted down the hall with her white apron flapping, made a 3-point landing in the middle of the room.
Lost in the shuffle of the small crowd, suddenly, the flamboyant joker, dancer, actor, and all-round tease, strip and otherwise, became lost for words.
"Would you like coffee or a glass of lemonade, little, er, young man?” Aunt Adele asked. When Ken mumbled, “Lemonade,” she
bustled off toward the kitchen. “I'll bring Eric a glass, also. He loves my lemonade.” She shook her head as she muttered, “Such strange young men. No one drinks coffee."
Aunt Gloria stuffed Ken into the only chair in the parlor with an ottoman—a leather club chair which had been modern in the fifties. The soles of his downsized loafers didn't quite reach the Oriental carpet but touched down nicely on the hassock and its lacy cover.
"Comfortable?” Aunt Gloria asked.
"Y-yes.” Ken stumbled over the word.
"As well he should be.” Aunt Vinny smiled. “This is Papa's favorite chair."
Everyone held their breath except Ken. He was unaware of what could happen next. The mention of one dead relative sometimes led to another, and then the dreaded photo album.
"I'd love to show Ken the family albums another evening when we have more time,” Aunt Vinny said, and the whole room breathed again, Eric the loudest.
The other night, he'd become her aunt's latest victim when she plunked herself and the blue suede-bound photo albums onto the sofa next to him, which Jilly noticed he'd avoided sitting on ever since. She showed Eric every picture, from black-and-white to Kodak color, of every pasty-faced relative in every casket, right down to the last flower.
"They say a flower taken from a grave will not grow,” she informed him, “but I've had success with a few.” When she clapped the last album closed, Eric muttered, “Amen.” His reverence pleased Aunt Vinny to no end.
Aunt Adele hustled back into the parlor, carrying a tray of frosted glasses of lemonade sprigged with mint. She served both Ken and Eric before turning her attention back to the newcomer.
With the ladies gathered around, clucking away like hens around a baby chick, Eric easily drifted off into the background. With a nod to Jilly, he meandered down the hallway into the kitchen where Zack was working.
"Hey.” The sound of the male voice startled Zack. He looked up surprised. It was that Eric guy, who had the nerve to lean his scrawny shoulder against the archway to the pantry and expect Zack to talk to him. In truth, Eric's shoulder was brawny, but it stung Zack to admit it, even to himself.