by Amber Cross
The brothers burst out laughing at the question. Abby’s face pinkened but she answered him. “No. I have a thing for languages, though. When Romney was a boy I tried teaching him patterns in languages, and that’s how he got started.”
“What’s so funny about that?” Glen wondered.
“She hates technology,” David explained.
“I don’t hate it. Not exactly.”
“Did you change the clock in your car when daylight savings began this year? Or when it ended?”
She shrugged. “What’s the point? It only changes again six months later.”
“Uh-huh. And what about your new television? Have you programmed the remote yet?”
Abby transferred the scallops to a plate beside her older brother, looking pleased with herself when she said, “As a matter of fact, my remote is programmed.”
He didn’t look impressed. Instead he turned to Romney. “You did it for her?”
“Of course I did it for her. She wouldn’t let me touch her answering machine at the office, though.”
“So it still records messages as being on a different day?”
“It’s two days, nine hours less six minutes off.” Her tone was defensive.
“While it could be, I don’t know, current?”
Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, “There’s nothing wrong with leaving it the way it is. I can add and subtract, you know. It is possible to tell when the messages come in.”
Her brothers laughed again, and Glen was tempted to join them. Knowing this bright, successful woman had idiosyncrasies to her personality just made her more interesting. By the time they washed their hands and sat at a long table near the windows for their meal, he realized this was the best date he’d had in years. Maybe ever.
“So you’re probably wondering about the whole brother-sister thing,” Romney said.
“Tíngzhǐ,” David admonished. “Eat. Don’t talk.”
“Are you sure you’re full-blood Chinese? We eat with our mouths open. We talk at the table.”
They did. Glen’s quick mind had no trouble keeping up with the running conversation, but it was fast and sometimes bounced randomly from subject to subject. Abby was the quietest of the three. She inserted a word here or there, sometimes in English, sometimes in Chinese, interrupting once to tell her brothers that Glen had a tight schedule and couldn’t spend all day listening to them. That naturally led to questions about his kids, where he lived, and why he decided to make a weekend home of Jason’s abandoned condo.
By the time they stood in the lobby, he and Abby putting on their coats and boots, he could tell he had passed her brothers’ litmus test. They shook his hand warmly, squeezed her to within an inch of her life, and waved them off at the door. “Wǒ ài nǐ,” Abby called as she rounded the hood of her car.
“Wǒ yě ài nǐ,” they chorused back at her.
Then the two of them were cocooned in the frosted automobile, the heater working to clear the windows before they could leave the parking lot. She looked a little embarrassed and tilted her head a couple of times like she was about to say something but didn’t, so he broke the ice for her.
“What does shu-shu mean?”
“Shasha?”
“I figured tíngzhǐ means cut it out or something like that.”
“It means stop.”
“But you also said shu-shu a lot. I couldn’t tell if it was one or two words.”
“Oh!” Gray-green eyes rounded with understanding. “Xie xie. That’s thank you.”
“Ah. And wǒ yě ài nǐ?”
Abby turned the wiper blades on. They cleared the windshield enough for her to see, and she backed out of the yard before replying. “It means, I love you too.”
He didn’t ask any other questions, letting her focus on descending the steep S curves toward town while he enjoyed being in the car with her. He liked her. In one lunch hour he had learned more about her than he probably would have over several dates, and every new discovery made him want to know more.
“Thank you for lunch,” he said when they arrived at the Golden Dragon parking lot.
“You’re welcome.” She looked at his BMW, crusted over with frost. “Do you want me to wait while you warm your car up?”
“Sure.” He hit the remote start button on his key fob and watched to make sure the running lights came on before turning back to face her. “I like your brothers.”
She smiled, affection in her tone when she spoke. “They’re the best. Even if they can be a pain.”
“Something tells me you don’t mind all that much.”
“Not really.”
“At the risk of sounding racist again, can you explain your family tree?”
She laughed and he liked the sound of it. “I wondered when you might ask about that. So my father and mother split up when I was little. She’s white. He’s half white, half black, and all Bahamian. After that he moved in with a Chinese American woman who had a little boy. David. Two and a half years later they had Romney together. Six months after that my mother had a son, Hume. His last name’s Kelly.”
“Are you close with him too?”
“Love him to pieces.”
He would not have expected any other answer. Might have asked more, but a plow truck lumbered across the parking lot behind them, disturbing the moment.
“We should probably get our cars out of here for him to clean up,” she said, reluctance clear in her voice.
He didn’t want to leave her either. “Can I get your phone number?”
“My number?” Her gray-green eyes lit up at his question.
“The policewoman suggested we exchange numbers. So I can check on you, because of the creeper.”
“Oh.” He didn’t miss the way her eyes dimmed at the explanation or the disappointment in her voice, but she quickly ducked her head to retrieve a cell phone from her purse where it sat between their seats.
Waiting until she turned the screen on and gave her attention to him once more, he added, “And so I can call you.”
Little, white teeth bit into her soft lower lip.
He wanted to lave the indenture with his tongue. Instead he took her phone, sent a text to himself, and gave it back to her. “There. Now my number is in your memory and I’ve got yours.”
She put the phone back in her purse. The plow truck made another pass behind them. Time was running out for both of them.
“I’m going to kiss you, Abby.”
“Uh-huh.”
He loved the way she didn’t hesitate with her response, though her face flushed and the pulse at the side of her neck started racing.
It was a hard, dry kiss. Not satisfying by a long shot, but he didn’t want to presume any more than he already had. He could still remember the shock in her eyes fifteen years ago when his ex-wife made him sound like an animal. He didn’t want to scare her away.
So his heart skipped a beat when she whispered, “More. Please.”
Nothing turned him on quite like a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Except maybe this woman. Everything about her excited him. Grasping her shoulders and pulling her close, he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips until they opened, then delved into the warm recesses of her mouth.
She held nothing back. Meeting him with equal passion, she poured herself into the kiss, and when she slid her fingers beneath the brim of his hat, scraping the sides of his skull with her nails, a sizzle raced up his spine. He was a teenage boy again. On fire with lust for her like it was the first time he ever held a woman, he was ready to put the car seats back and fog up the windows.
The plow truck made a third pass across the parking lot.
Chapter Four
“I like the way Chinese tastes on you.”
Abby could still hear those parting words. Could still picture his lips, glistening from their kiss, beckoning her to come back for more, and oh, how she wanted to. But he had a long drive to make, children to take care of, and the
y were definitely parked in the way of the plow truck operator. So instead she said a reluctant goodbye and drove back to their building alone.
The first floor housed a laundromat and hair salon, both closed today. The second floor held professional offices, including her law firm, a CPA, and a dentist. No cars were in the lot when she arrived and none when she checked half an hour later. He must have left for New York directly from the Golden Dragon.
Darn. No chance of another kiss. Instead she moped around her condo and might have spent her whole night doing so if Jason hadn’t called to check on her. When she assured him that she was okay, he warned her that whoever the predator was, he liked redheaded women best. Her hair color was chestnut. Technically that was brown with a red hue, but she should take extra precautions.
“I will,” she assured him. “But thanks for the call. It’s kind of weird being here by myself now that you’ve moved out.”
She wasn’t fishing. Really. But his answer still made her heart skip a beat. “Glen was sorry he couldn’t stay longer.”
“He was?” For the second time that weekend, her toes curled. She was giddy from the news that he discussed her with his best friend.
“He said to tell you he looks forward to a longer stay next time.”
Just like that her mood changed. She floated through mundane household chores, made an elaborate meal of tossed salad and grilled tilapia, even adding a sprig of parsley to the lemon wedge on the plate, and put enough bubble bath in the tub to fill a swimming pool.
Propping her phone up on the back of the commode where she could reach it, she slid into the frothy water. Judge Henry liked to call on Sunday nights and discuss her upcoming week. If she didn’t hear from him by eight o’clock, it meant he had gone to bed early or lost phone service due to the storm. He had a landline because he didn’t believe in cell phones; like he had a live-in housekeeper who saw to all of his needs because he didn’t believe in marriage.
When the digital display read five past the hour, she sank beneath the water line. Since she had been unable to swim today, this was the next best thing. The tub was large enough for two, and she stretched out beneath the surface.
And then the phone rang. Emerging with a sputter, bubbles flying in every direction, she blinked to clear the water from her eyes but couldn’t read the number of the incoming call. Nonetheless she picked it up. It might be important. But her annoyance that anyone would disturb her relaxation showed in her less-than-friendly greeting. “Who is this?”
A brief hesitation. A now familiar voice. “Abby? It’s Glen.”
She groaned, wanting to sink below the surface again. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t see who it was and figured it was a junk call.”
“I think I should be apologizing to you. It sounds like you’re busy.”
“What? No! I’m just in the tub.” Why had she told him that? Now he was sure to end the call. “Really. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Hmmm.” His voice dropped down suggestively. “I don’t suppose you’d like to send a picture to prove it?”
Abby sucked in a surprised breath. Had her fantasy man really just said those words? Below the water line she clenched her knees together. Suddenly the temperature was warmer than it had been, yet her nipples grew hard. A catch in her voice betrayed her reaction. “I don’t know how.”
“Good. I wasn’t serious.”
“Oh. Of course.” Mortified, she wanted to dive below the bubbles and not come up until tomorrow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize. I was teasing. But once your image is out there in cyberspace, you can’t ever take it back. I’m glad you don’t know how.”
Better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. That saying kept her silent now. She had never felt more like a fool.
“I told Jason I’d check in with you each night so he doesn’t have to. Unless your brothers are already planning to?”
“No. David is still back and forth between his Manchester restaurant and The Gables. He probably doesn’t even know about the creeper, and Romney was only here for the weekend.”
“Then I’ll make the calls.”
Just like that he was taking charge of her safety. Pretty presumptuous for someone she barely knew, even if he could kiss like his life depended on it. But did she want him to be this involved in her life? Yes! Definitely.
“We should have a code, though.”
“A code?” Great. First she sounded like a naïve teenager, now a parrot. Her usual cool head must be buried beneath the bubbles somewhere. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, if someone is there and I ask you how you are, you might say you’re okay even though you’re not. So what if when I call you tell me what time it is?”
“Umm, all right.” Was this the best a genius could come up with? “Isn’t that kind of simple?”
“Not if your answer is two days, nine hours less six minutes off.”
Abby caught her breath. Stunned he had paid that much attention to the silly banter between her and her brothers. She didn’t want to read too much into it, though. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I remember everything.” His voice dropped down low, creating an intimacy between them that transcended distance. “Especially what happened in the car.”
She squeezed her eyes closed tight to contain herself.
“I only wish it could have lasted longer,” he added.
“Me too.”
“Dad, have you see my charger?” a high-pitched, young voice interrupted.
“Isn’t it on your dresser?”
“No! Colin used it last and he said he put it back, but I can’t find it.”
A young, male voice in the background said something, and an argument was on.
“Sunday nights are so much fun,” he said on a long-suffering sigh. “Looks like I have to go now, but I’ll call again tomorrow night.”
Just when it was getting good too. “Okay.”
“Abby? I don’t want you putting yourself at risk, but I would have loved that picture.”
****
She loved the way he said goodbye. Each night he ended their conversation with something provocative. It didn’t matter if they talked for three minutes or twenty minutes. When they disconnected, she was more excited than when she first took his call. And that was saying something.
She slept better than ever and hardly slept at all. In the mornings she dove into the pool with more energy than she had ever had, the water sluicing over her skin waking up nerve endings she didn’t even know were dormant. Everything she ate tasted like ambrosia, yet she had almost no appetite. Temperatures dropped midweek, and a wintry mix left the Northeast Kingdom slick with ice, but she stood on the balcony admiring the way the moon shone on the ice after the storm ended. When the sun melted away the top layer the next day, she stared out her office window at the dripping eaves and thought nothing had ever been quite so beautiful.
By Friday afternoon she was ready to pinch herself.
Moving to Somerset had been a gamble. She had dreamed of someday settling in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom, but it had been a distant, sometime-in-the-future kind of ambition. Maybe when she made partner. Or got married. Or things slowed down a little.
Then Judge Henry recommended her to replace a retiring judge in Essex County’s civil court division. She would sit on the bench in the same courtroom in Guildhall where she had clerked for him all those years ago. Where, as a doe-eyed twenty-year-old with no experience of men, she had witnessed the dissolution of Glen Plankey’s marriage and revelations of a sex life that dominated her fantasies ever since.
Of course her mother objected to her accepting the post even as she bragged about her getting the offer. Was she crazy? She would miss the city. Her career would come to a standstill. There were about three hundred people total in the town of Guildhall. There wasn’t even a view, unless she wanted to stare out the window at Lancaster, New Hampshir
e, across the Connecticut River and certainly no metropolis. And what would she do with the rest of her days? Court was in session about once a month. How would she make a living? Where would she live?
Abby tried to explain that she wasn’t exactly living in Rutland. Most of her days began at sunup and didn’t end until the stroke of midnight. She fell into bed at night exhausted, only to wake and do it again. On the rare occasions when she wasn’t answering email, voicemail, or proofreading volumes of legal documents that clients never read, she could barely function at all. That was the problem when life was moving at full speed ahead. The moment it stopped, it completely stopped.
She was miserable. Could see her girlish dreams of marriage and family slipping further and further from her grasp, could understand Judge Henry’s cynicism, and even though she didn’t share it, she was afraid some day she would end up like him. Alone.
So when the opportunity came to take over a small practice in Somerset, she jumped on it. The town was halfway between Guildhall and Rutland in size. It had a quarry mine, a lumber yard, and a collection of small businesses primarily run as sole proprietorships. Farms sprawled from the downtown area to the south and west, forest to the north and east. The people were honest, hardworking, reserved, and mostly self-sufficient, and the favorable ratio of men to women was one of its biggest attractions for her.
If she was lucky, she might just meet a man like the one in the courtroom all those years ago. She’d never dreamed of seeing the man himself.
****
Glen took the kids out for supper on Friday night before taking them to his ex-wife’s house. It was a ritual for them, but it meant he didn’t get home until almost ten o’clock. He had to wait much longer than he wished to before hearing the sexy, little judge’s voice on his phone.
She picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Glen.”
“Sorry I’m late. I hope you’re safe and sound inside your condo.”
They both knew if she were in danger, there was nothing he could do from New York City, but neither one of them said it.
“I’m good. That is, for six past one on a Wednesday afternoon.”
“Glad to hear it. That means you’ll be up for hours still.”