Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1)

by Cheri Allan

  “Kate! There you are.” Betsy pushed open the kitchen door and stepped forward. “Here. Let me get that. Thirsty crowd out there! Oh, and Cindy wants to know if the cake will be gluten-free, because she brought sorghum flour cookies to share just in case.” She took the pitcher and disappeared back into the living room.

  Kate wiped her hands briskly on a dishtowel, ignored Nana’s pointed, questioning look and returned to the fray, letting the door swing closed behind her. She stepped over a girl crawling on all fours and nearly collided with the leggy, Nordic-looking nanny with the low-cut top and generous cleavage. The nanny apologized. Or at least Kate presumed she did, not actually recognizing the language being used. The nanny’s smile was brilliant and white and could only be expensive and imported.

  “Are vee having de kek soon?” nanny asked, blinding Kate again with her teeth. “Vee av an—ow do you say?—appoint-mont?”

  “Cake! Yes! Yes. Good idea. I’ll serve the cake now.” Kate whirled back toward the kitchen where Nana was already ripping open a package of paper plates.

  “All I’m saying,” Nana continued, as if Kate had never left the room, “is it’s better to be a widow when you’re young and attractive than when you’re old like me.”

  “What?” Kate gaped at Nana and reached to pull the cover off Liam’s rocket ship cake. “Where is this even coming from?”

  “I’m just saying if you were my age, you’d have to accept you’re going to spend your remaining days alone.”

  “Surrounded by family who loves you.” Or at least tolerates you. Hmm. Kate stuck the plastic astronaut figurine on the cake about where she figured the cockpit would be. The cake was a little lopsided and Kate had accidentally dumped the food coloring bottle into the exhaust-plume frosting, so it was really vivid, but Liam loved it. That’s all that mattered. Liam loved orange.

  “Maybe. But that’s not the same as a warm man in your bed and you know it.”

  Kate forgot about the frosting for a moment as she sucked in a fortifying breath. She so didn’t need a man in her bed. “I’m not ready, Nana.”

  “Come on, Katie. Don’t waste your youth mourning him. You need to move on. He’s been gone two months.”

  “Seven. Weeks. It’s only been seven weeks.”

  Nana waved a dismissive hand. “Time enough,” she muttered.

  “Nana, it’s more complicated than just getting on with life. I can’t pretend Randy meant nothing to me. We had a child together!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Randy knocked you up. There’s a world of difference.” Nana held up a hand to stop Kate from interrupting and pulled open the package of candles. “I saw how things were... before things went down the tubes. Let me tell you, once you’ve got a few kids running around the house, it isn’t sex that holds things together. At least, not the only thing.”

  Kate propped her hands on her hips to argue the point then instantly regretted the action. She scrubbed at the frosting smear on her pants with a dishtowel. And they were having this conversation now... why?? “So now a wife’s not supposed to be attracted to her own husband? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Don’t twist my words, young lady. Of course she is. And Randy was a charmer, I’ll grant you that. But there’s got to be more to it. A marriage isn’t all about the bedroom. What you need is to find a man who’ll take care of you. One who’ll take care of little Liam, too.”

  “They don’t make superheroes anymore, Nana.”

  Nana pursed her lips and handed over the cup of plastic forks. “Not a superhero. Just one good man. That’s all you need.”

  “What I need is way more complicated than any man can fix.” Kate licked a blob of icing off her knuckle and began rummaging through the junk drawer. “Aargh! Where are the matches?”

  Her grandmother carefully stuck three candles into the cake. “Maybe you could try one of those internet dating services. The ladies agree—”

  “No.” Kate could only imagine what that personals ad would look like. “Definitely not. No way.” She narrowed her eyes. “Oh God. You haven’t done anything I should know about, have you? Tell me you haven’t!”

  Nana gave her a blankly innocent look. “Of course not.” She reached around Kate and pulled a lighter from the drawer, lit the candles then picked up the cake. “Never mind. We’ll talk more when you’ve calmed down. Time for cake. Can you get the door?”

  They sang Happy Birthday, Liam blew out his candles, and Nana started doling out cake, the kids descending like locusts.

  Kate knew Nana meant well, but there were times it seemed Nana was so intent on everyone being happy she couldn’t let go if she thought there was something she could fix. Unfortunately, Kate’s problems felt like the mess in Liam’s Cat in the Hat book... so big… and so wide… she’d never clean it all up...

  She absently stabbed another mini wiener and stuffed it in her mouth.

  “Kate! There you are.”

  Kate chewed rapidly and gulped as her boss, Nancy, appeared beside her. Nancy’s daughter and Liam were thick as thieves in music class, or Kate wouldn’t have been guilted into inviting them.

  She’d been avoiding Nancy for days—ever since Nancy had not-so-subtly hinted about wanting to talk, a look of pinched concern telling Kate it wouldn’t be a fun conversation.

  “I’m sorry to corner you like this, Kate. I’ve been hoping to speak with you, but I’ve been so busy finalizing the strategic plan with the new Board of Directors and taking care of last-minute details before we leave next week….” She shook her head on a wry smile as if to say, Husbands! How are you going to tell them their surprise anniversary cruise is poor timing? “Anyway, do you have a moment?”

  “Now?” Kate forced a smile, the mini wiener lodging somewhere just short of her stomach. Nancy raised an elegant brow expectantly. Kate wondered where all these women found the time for personal grooming. She vowed to find her tweezers as soon as the party was over. “Um. Sure.” She motioned for Nancy to follow her down the hall. “I’m sorry, Liam’s room is a mess, and my grandmother is using the guest room during her visit. Maybe right he—”

  “This is fine.”

  Kate scurried back down the hall as Nancy veered into the laundry room behind her.

  A pair of dingy white panties hung from a clothespin above the washer like a limp, graying flag. Kate snatched them down and shoved them in a laundry basket.

  Nancy pursed her lips. “I’ll get right to the point. I know about your plans, Kate. I know… you’re leaving.”

  “What?”

  “I saw the college paperwork in your drawer. I wasn’t snooping, but you’d left for the day, and, well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Oh. That.” Kate relaxed a little remembering the papers she’d brought to the office to copy. “I was going to tell you, er, talk about that, when you got back. You see, I’m not—”

  Nancy held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I get it: you hate your job. It was too much to expect someone of your caliber to want to be my assistant forever. I just want you to know… I won’t stand in your way.”

  Kate opened her mouth to protest, hate was such a strong word, really, but then… Nancy sighed.

  Uh-oh.

  Nancy’s sighs were epic in intensity and length, expressing her disappointment, frustration and sympathy in excruciating slow-motion. Kate had timed one sigh at seventeen seconds. The student had gone blue by the time the last low, guttural syllables had passed over Nancy’s lips.

  Then she’d expelled him.

  Eight... Nine... Ten...

  Nancy inhaled. “Look, I know this has been a difficult time for you. It’s perfectly understandable that you’d want to explore your options. Especially now.” She paused and Kate sucked in a breath, bracing herself for who knew what. “I don’t know how to say this, but I want you to know what I’m about to say... I’m not speaking only as your boss... but as your friend.”

  Kate nodded, the blood rushing from
her head. “Am I being fired?”

  “No! No. Of course not. It’s... Look, I know Randy’s death has been difficult. I understand. I do. But I think it’s fair to say your heart hasn’t been in your work for a while now.”

  Kate nodded. “I had so many things to take care of after Randy—”

  “I’m not talking about Randy, Kate. I’m talking about you.” Nancy laid a sympathetic hand on Kate’s shoulder. “It’s clear you’re at a crossroads. I’ve read Eat, Pray, Love. I get it. The fact that you’re applying to college again proves it. I want you to know… I support you. Go! Find out what’s next for Kate Mitchell. Find your passion.”

  Kate blinked. “My what?”

  “Your passion! Figure out what makes you happy. Alive. Figure out if being my assistant is enough or if you need something more in life.”

  Kate shook her head as Nancy’s hand dropped away. Her gut clenched. “I don’t need to—”

  “I’m giving you a leave of absence,” Nancy announced as if she were sending Kate on a cruise and not shoving her into choppy seas without a life preserver. “Take the summer. Explore! Get away. You can leave as soon as classes end. I can’t pay you, but think of it as a gift of time.”

  “I don’t need time! I’m fine!”

  “No, you’re not. You’re exhausted and lost.” Nancy’s head tilted compassionately. “Randy is gone, Kate. You’re no longer in his shadow. But, I’m here to tell you that, come September, the strategic initiatives the board just approved will demand a renewed commitment from everyone, including you. As your employer, I need to know I’ll be able to count on you to give me 110%. As your friend, I’m giving you time—now—to figure out whether that’s want you want.”

  Kate let out an unsteady breath. “Do I have a choice?”

  Nancy smiled. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  A moment later, Kate stumbled back into the living room, her thoughts swirling, her summer opening up liking a gaping black hole before her. Some gift! How would she ever pay for tuition without a job? And, where would she find the time to attend classes and finish her degree if she gave Nancy the 110% she was asking for?

  “Kate.” Celery Mom lightly touched Kate’s shoulder, and Kate dropped the carrot she didn’t know she’d been holding. It rolled under the loveseat. “We were talking, Betsy and I, and we feel awful about all you’re going through.”

  You have no idea.

  Betsy nodded sympathetically. “I know it may sound crazy, but trust me. The best thing you can do right now is pamper yourself. Get a facial, a massage—the works. It’ll do you a world of good!”

  “A spa day always makes me feel so refreshed,” Celery Mom agreed.

  Kate watched as Betsy fished in her fancy designer bag. Her spirits lifted a little. A little me time did sound heavenly. While a spa day wouldn’t fix her problems, it would go a long way toward smoothing the rough edges.

  Betsy found what she was searching for and pulled it from her bag. “I just happen to have a business card for my massage therapist. Trust me—he’s the perfect escape.” She winked conspiratorially and pressed the little ivory card into Kate’s palm. “It’s clear this ordeal has left you drained,” she whispered.

  “And haggard,” mouthed Celery mom.

  Kate stared at the card. Drained? Haggard? She tried not to erupt in semi-hysterical laughter. When was she supposed to have gotten a manicure? After the funeral but before her bereavement leave was over?

  She wanted to tell them all—Betsy, Nancy and especially Nana—to jump in the proverbial lake. Oh God. But they were right. She hadn’t taken care of herself. And, while a gift certificate to said spa would have been a heck of a lot nicer than a measly business card, that had to change. Now.

  She shoved the card in her pocket. “Actually, speaking of escapes, we are taking a vacation. Liam and I. Getting away for a bit. We’re headed to New Hampshire, um, next week. So… no time for a spa day!”

  “How lovely!” Betsy enthused. “My Evan’s family has a cottage on Squam Lake. You know—On Golden Pond?” Seeing as Betsy referenced the decades-old Oscar-winning movie every time she mentioned the ‘cottage,’ Kate nodded.

  “That is a lovely spot,” Celery Mom interjected. “Unspoiled.”

  By this, Kate assumed she meant there weren’t too many pesky locals hanging about. “Yes, well, we’re actually going to Whisper Lake. In Sugar Falls.” Just as soon as she made arrangements.

  “Sugar Falls? New Hampshire? I can’t say I’ve heard of—”

  “It’s on the western border. Near Vermont. My grandmother grew up there.”

  Betsy’s head tilted, her elegant, spa-shaped brows gently knitted. “Oh. Well. I’m sure it will be lovely there, too.”

  “Lovely,” Celery Mom nodded in agreement.

  Kate wasn’t sure how lovely it would be once she was arrested on attempted-murder charges for poisoning these toxic women with lethal doses of Red Dye No. 3, but she figured she’d find out soon enough. She grabbed the lemonade pitcher’s handle with a death grip, and refilled each of their paper cups with neon-pink liquid.

  The pink dot that happened to jump onto Celery Mom’s white shirt was just a bonus.

  AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, KATE waved goodbye to the next to last guest with no small amount of relief. She put the slice of cake she’d wrapped up for Mrs. Pemborly in a plastic bag and handed it over. “Remember,” she said, “you’re not supposed to have too many sweets. So, this is for tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Pemborly pulled the bag’s handles over her wrist, her pale blue eyes conveying what she thought of the admonition. “I’m ninety-three years old, Kate. There isn’t much point in waiting to indulge in anything.” She heaved a beleaguered sigh. “But I will. You can sleep with a clear conscience tonight.

  “Liam!” the older woman barked, “Happy birthday, young man! Enjoy your loot!” Liam grinned and waved as Mrs. P. peered out the front window. “Oh, June, you’re right. It’s starting to rain again.”

  “I’ll get my coat and walk you home,” Kate offered.

  Mrs. Pemborly rolled her eyes and opened the door. “I’m ninety-three years old. I think I know how to walk. Besides, you look spent.” Great, thought Kate, another unflattering adjective to add to the list. Mrs. P. turned to Nana. “Just open my umbrella, would you, June? I have such a time with it. It’s a little rusty, but at ninety-three, there doesn’t seem much point in buying a new one.”

  Before the woman could announce she’d turned ninety-four, Kate tied Mrs. P.’s little plastic hood under her chin, Nana popped the umbrella and they both helped her down the front steps. Nana closed the door with a satisfied thump. “Well! That takes care of that!”

  Yes. That it did. Kate blew out a breath and tried to ignore her frayed nerves as she surveyed the mess. Toys and wrapping paper lay in mounds on the loveseat under the window. Popcorn and chip crumbs littered the carpet like pale confetti. Half-eaten plates of cake sat on the mantel, the snack table, the floor. And, a single cup of pink lemonade balanced precariously on a window sill. Kate wanted to go curl up in bed with a cup of hot tea, but this mess wasn’t going away by itself. “You’ve been on your feet all day, Nana. Why don’t you go rest for a bit? I’ll clean up.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll help. Mrs. P.’s right. You look exhausted!”

  “Thanks for noticing.” Kate picked up a trash bin and began loading it with half-eaten cake slices and the larger chip crumbs, her eyes welling with tears. She poured the lemonade into a potted plant and threw the cup in the trash. Nana didn’t mean to be unkind, but the truth was, she was tired. And haggard. And out of a job! Kate swallowed. She wouldn’t lose it now, not after holding it together all afternoon.

  The doorbell rang and her eyes flew to Nana.

  “I’ll get it. Probably somebody left their jacket or something.” Nana swung the door wide, and Kate’s stomach rolled.

  “Katherine. Mother! Thank God. I’m so worried about Sandy…” Kate’s
mother stood on the other side of the screen door, a giant golf umbrella sheltering the small pink animal crate in her hand. “She’s been acting lethargic all day,” her mother whispered.

  Kate opened the screen door and took the dog crate as her mother shook the umbrella and set it next to the door. “My God! What happened here?”

  “Liam’s birthday party.” Kate set the crate next to the umbrella.

  “Oh, right. I couldn’t make it. Sandy has been suffering so. I needed to be with her. You understand.” Her mother frowned. “Honey, don’t put her by the door. She’ll catch a draft.”

  Kate dutifully picked up the crate again and carried it to the dining room.

  “I hate to ask,” her mother continued, “but I have an event this evening and Rosaria has gone home, and I don’t like to leave Sandy alone when she’s under the weather…”

  “I’ll watch her.” Kate said, returning to the living room.

  “Thank you. You know how she looks up to you.”

  Kate fought the urge to roll her eyes and accepted the designer pink backpack that included Sandy’s leash, favorite toys, treats, organic food, stainless measuring scoop, pop-up dishes, biodegradable poo baggies, tick remover, hair brush, and personal pillow with lambswool covering. Kate knew this because her mother itemized its contents as she passed it over. “And only one scoop of food. Don’t let her beg for more. I know you’ll want to give in to that sweet little face, but we can’t have our little pooch getting poochy, can we?”

  Kate glanced toward Nana—who was rolling her eyes.

  “When will you be picking her up?”

  Her mother shrugged gracefully. “A few hours? Four at most. I’ll try not to linger.”

  “Of course.”

  “I have to use the little girls’ room before I go. Be back in a sec.” Kate’s mother’s kitten-heeled sandals made little schtuck, schtuck noises as she walked down the hall.

  Liam pounded out a jar of Play-Doh onto the coffee table.

  “There are times I cannot believe I gave birth to that woman,” Nana muttered from the other side of the room.