by B. E. Baker
“Sure. I love the place on Bleaker.” I give him some basic instructions to leave my neighborhood, but after a few turns we reach the parkway. “You stay on here until Bleaker, then it's on your right.”
“Perfect. Now back to how your boss reacted when you told her to take her job and stuff it.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I didn't ever get that far.”
“No?” he asks. “Why not? Cold feet? Late onset greed?”
“Late onset greed? You're so weird.”
“You love it.” He takes my hand in his, and my heart flutters in a way I could get used to.
I lean back in the seat and exhale. “I didn't get greedy. The opposite, actually. I got a call from my sister right before I was going to turn it down.”
“And?”
“My nephew was recently diagnosed as a Type I diabetic. He's not even four for another few weeks, and the doctors say it's way, way rare to be diagnosed so early. The poor guy is struggling. He hates getting poked all the time, of course, and he doesn't understand why he can't eat non-stop goldfish like he used to. Like every three-year-old in America.”
He squeezes my hand. “I'm so sorry. That's terrible.”
“Plus, my sister Trudy didn't tell me until yesterday, but her loser husband left them. She won't even move in with me, because she's stupidly still hoping the jerk will come back home.”
“Wow,” Luke says. “Just wow, that's a lot to take in at once.”
“It's a good thing I didn't tell my boss I was turning the promotion down, because Trudy's gonna need a lot of help.”
Luke raises one eyebrow. “Your sister's name is Trudy?”
“Gertrude, actually. I know, it's a terrible name for a young person. My mom named my sister after her grandma and then Mom bailed on the whole family. If she's going to saddle a kid with an awful name, she could at least have the decency to stick around and help defend her when the other kids start making jokes.”
“Your mom bailed on you guys? When?”
“Trudy was a baby. I was about to start school.”
“Do you still see her?”
I shake my head. “She calls every few years. I haven't seen her in a decade.”
“I'm sorry.”
“I don't even care anymore.” Which is a lie. I'll always care.
“I can't understand any mother ever leaving her kids on purpose.”
“Mom got pregnant with me when she was in high school. She married my dad, but she didn't want to. She wanted to see the world, and we tied her down. Working as a trucker was the only thing she ever liked, the freedom, the control, and her own place where no one could bother her.” I shrug. “A trucker. She left me to be a trucker. I sound like someone from Jerry Springer.”
His thumb brushes against the inside of my palm. “You couldn't be on Jerry Springer.”
“No?”
He shakes his head. “Too many teeth, and you don't have roots in your hair. Also, it's been washed this week.”
“You keep those compliments coming like that, and you never know where tonight might lead.” I suck my teeth and smile lopsided and crazy.
He laughs.
“Anyway, my point was that my sister needs money, and I have the means to get it for her, which I should do. So now I'll have to take the new job. Which should be fine, except my awful ex, who you met today, is going to axe the Sub-for-Santa program if I'm not there to run it anymore.”
“Maybe that's a blessing in disguise,” Luke says.
“Don't you start, too.”
“Hold on,” Luke says. “Start what?”
“My dad, and sister, and Foster and everyone else I know except my secretary Paisley thinks my obsession with the whole thing is unhealthy. They've been after me to quit for a while.”
Luke pulls into a parking place right in front of Bombay Palace. He shuts his truck off and turns to face me directly. “You aren't obsessed. That's when you can't think of anything else. You're dedicated and that's an admirable quality. What I meant was, instead of reporting to the United Way, why not start your own charity that only does Sub-for-Santa? Then you don't need a boss, or anyone else to tell you what to do, really.”
“Oh no, I couldn't do that.”
As I say the words, I realize they might not be true. United Way provides me a copier and office space, but I do everything else. Pushing the word out to the community for nominations, vetting the nominees, finding the volunteers, coordinating the efforts, creating the rules and checking that they're followed. Why do I need United Way?
“I disagree. You could call it whatever you want, but obviously this entire thing is already run by you.”
What if he's right?
“One small problem. With this new job, I can't spend more than a few hours a week during the holidays on this. Unless I found another volunteer to do everything I do, which would be a tall order, there's no way this would get done. It's too much work, and not enough excitement in the community for it.”
Before Luke can open my door, I pull the handle open and climb out, noticing as I do that he has two booster seats in the back of his car. He really is a cute dad. Which would be amazing if I wanted kids.
When we walk in, there's not a single other customer in the restaurant. It's never busy, but it seems especially sad on Wednesday nights for some reason. Honestly that's one of the reasons I go so often in the middle of the week. I hate crowds, and if this place ever goes under, I might cry. Okay, I would cry.
I sit down at an empty table, knowing Jay will be over with menus shortly. “Since you've never been here, let me tell you. Their chicken pakora is amazing. Like I might slice off your finger if you reach for the last piece. And the korma is great if you like mild things. It's all my nephew Troy will eat. The naan is to die for, and my favorite is just a little different than the usual tikka masala, called chicken makhani. The chicken's shredded and simmered and oh my word. It's transformational.”
Luke's grinning like an idiot.
“What?”
“You are so cute when you like something.”
“Mary!” Jay shouts. “You brought a friend this time, and a handsome one, too.” Jay holds out his hand to Luke, who takes it and they shake vigorously. Once the he-man handshakes finally end, Jay hands us each a menu. “This girl is a gem, you know. You should hang on to her with both hands.”
For the first time since I met him, Luke actually looks uncomfortable.
“We're both starving,” I say. “Can you take our drink orders and food at the same time?”
“Of course I can.” Jay whips out his notepad. “What do you want?”
“I think we need a little bit of everything.” Luke glances at the menu. “Two orders of the pakora, since I don't want to get stabbed.”
Jay laughs. “Mary loves her pakora. She likes it spicy though. Think you can keep up?”
Luke meets my eye. “I aim to try.”
“Other than the pakora, what else?” Jay points at the menu.
“Since we're on Mary's turf, maybe she should pick three things for the table and we can share?”
“Good idea,” Jay says.
I choose kheema samosas, which is a lamb appetizer wrapped in dough, chicken makhani, saagwala, and korma, plus a few orders of naan. The food takes forever, like always, but the company is good and the weight of the last few days slides off my shoulders.
I've barely finished my pakora, and ladled rice and makhani on my plate when Luke's phone rings. “Hello?”
His brow furrows.
“No, he was fine earlier.”
Pause.
“How many times?”
Pause.
“I'll be right there. Thanks for calling me. You did the right thing.”
I motion for Jay to come over. “We need to go boxes for all this. Luke's got a family emergency.”
“Yes, I'm so sorry,” Luke says to me, “but Chase is throwing up. Like a lot. I need to make sure he's okay.”
I place on
e hand over his and his eyes widen softly and then he sighs.
“It's going to be okay,” I say. “All kids get the stomach flu. It's not fun, but he'll be fine.”
Jay brings us our boxes, Luke hands him a card, and I start filling the boxes with the food we haven't even touched.
“Any chance I can run by the house and check on him before I take you home?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, just go. I can get an Uber from here. It's really no big deal.”
He frowns. “Do you hate the idea of being around my kids that much?”
My jaw drops. “Of course not, that's not it at all. How selfish would I be to say, hey Chase, your dad's here but now he has to leave again with me. I'm trying to be considerate, not a high maintenance mess.”
He shakes his head. “My cousin-in-law will be there so once he's fine I can drive you home. Besides, it's a second date rule for me that I need to fix something for you to prove I'm manly. I was thinking maybe a closet light might be on the blink or something.” He winks.
“What an awful pun,” I say. “But it would be great to actually see what I'm wearing. It's been sort of a guessing game for the past few weeks.”
“Your sweater matches well enough,” he says.
“I'm kidding, Luke. I have flashlights.”
“Right, of course. As an added bonus, you'll get to meet Amy, my daughter. After you came by the other day, she's been asking to meet you.”
I should protest. I don't want to be involved in his kids' lives. It's a slippery slope, and I avoid those at all times. But he looks so earnest, and there's a sick kid involved, and I don't think he'll budge on me taking an Uber. Which means if I turn him down, I'm basically making his poor son wait to see his dad.
“Fine,” I say. “I'll go with you, but only if you promise I can take an Uber from your house if he gets upset and doesn't want you to leave. I won't ruin a baby's night so you can give me a ride.”
“It's a deal,” Luke says.
Chapter 9
Luke doesn't sound anxious on the way home, but his hands grip the steering wheel of his Raptor a little too tightly, and he sits ramrod straight.
“I'm sorry to spoil our date,” he says. “I think Chase should be fine in a few days. I'd love to make it up to you on Saturday night. Any chance you're free?”
“I usually save Saturdays for my boyfriend,” I say. “He's pretty flexible otherwise, but he likes Saturday nights to himself.”
Luke's head whips around and he stares at me. Then he laughs. “You almost had me there. So is that a yes, or a no?”
“Sure, a redo on Saturday.”
“Phew. I was worried I botched my shot by bailing for a stomach bug.”
“Good parents always put their kids first. It's your job to do that.” I have firsthand experience it's not what all parents do. “Please don't apologize for being a good dad, not to me.”
“Thanks.”
I ought to distract him before Luke crushes that poor steering wheel into dust. “How's the Citibank job coming along? Almost done?”
He rolls his eyes heavenward. “Let's just say that not everyone the contractor hired to work electrical could change a light bulb, much less repair your closet light.”
“On a job that big, if your people can't do the work, what do you do?”
He shrugs. “It's a nightmare, but it's not the first time I've dealt with this problem. It's pretty common actually. Licensed electricians are expensive, and subs usually bid out as low as they can to get the job. If they can use unskilled labor instead of skilled, their profit margin goes up.”
“Is your reputation on the line if it goes wrong?”
“That's the downside to being the project manager for electrical. I've been spending half my day every day showing these guys how to do their own job without being electrocuted or overloading the circuits. It's a frustrating mess. We should have been done two weeks ago, but instead I've got a day crew and a night crew fixing the stuff they screwed up initially.”
“I never gave much thought to the work that went into any of my lights, or outlets, or anything at either of my offices. Or my home, for that matter.”
“You shouldn't. If your crew did its job during construction, you never will, other than the occasional malfunctioning light.”
“I guess you'll make sure no one at Citibank ever has to think about it?”
“That's the plan. I've gotten pretty good at identifying which men I can trust to help me quality check and which men need to be supervised heavily. At least we're down to punch list items at this point.”
My eyebrows rise. “I didn't realize it was so close.”
“Ribbon cutting is coming up fast.”
“Wait, does that mean you'll be leaving sooner? Before January?”
“Worried about me leaving? Weren't you trying to brush me off yesterday?” He grins.
I stiffen. “Not at all, but if you won't be here for Christmas, I'll need to reassign the family I lined up for you.”
“You've already assigned me a family?”
I nod. “Three children. Two boys and one girl. Twelve, seven and three years old. The three-year-old boy loves rockets, and the twelve year old wants board games. It was a refreshing request after sifting through more than a dozen tweens, all asking for cell phones or iPads.”
“What about the seven year old?”
I sigh. “Her mom wrote, 'anything.' I hate when they do that, but it's fairly common. I never know whether the mom's lazy and doesn't know her kid, or whether they have so little that absolutely anything will make them happy. Either way, it's sad.”
“Don't worry. We'll do some research and come up with great stuff for all three.”
“Unless you leave earlier,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Nah, my next job starts January 15. I like to leave myself a few weeks between jobs in case one of them gets delayed. Even if it's not my fault, sometimes things go wrong.”
“Plus, it's New Years. And you mentioned your dad's here. Won't you and your kids miss him? And the cousin you mentioned?”
Luke shrugs. “I always try to find an autumn job back in Atlanta, or take a few weeks off so we can come here to visit. My brother's here too, but he's always working. Family's important, and my kids miss their cousins and my pops, and their uncle, but they love the adventure, too. When my job lasts longer than six months, sometimes I take Dad with me. I hate bouncing him around for a few months here or there, though, and my brother gets all upset.”
“What about school? Doesn't that throw things off for your kids?”
“Nah, not yet anyway. Chase is four, and Amy's five. I did enroll her in a pre-school and she loves it. St. Paul's Catholic Church has a decent program. But she's a free spirit and I line up a full time caretaker for them while I'm working, someone qualified and engaged.”
“But when the time comes, you're going to enroll them in school? And stay somewhere for the school year, at least?”
He shrugs. “Probably. They can both read fairly well already, so I know they won't be behind. I've got nine months before Amy's due to start school. I may look for a longer gig, or I may find a homeschool program. Haven't decided yet.”
He turns into the Cove.
My palms are clammy, and my heart's racing. Why am I so nervous to meet his kids? It's not like they'll ever be my kids. I'm only hanging out with Luke for the few weeks he has left here in Atlanta. Calm down, Mary. Everything's okay. My head knows it's fine, but my heart isn't listening very well.
Luke parks around the back of the large trailer, which explains why I didn't see his truck when I came by last time. He opens my door again and offers his hand when I climb out, which is helpful since the Raptor cab sits pretty high above the ground. When my feet both touch dirt, he doesn't let go. He interlaces our hands, and pulls me along behind him on the fifteen-foot walk to the trailer's back door as if he knows I need the little nudge.
Luke releases my hand to climb the st
eps to the entry, which are fairly narrow. He had to do it, but somehow without his hand in mine, I'm untethered, drifting, and nervous. I might like Luke a little too much already. It's the only reason I'd be stressed out like this about seeing the inside of his home, and meeting his kids.
They're four and five, I remind myself. They like anyone who can do a Yoda impression, or who can snort milk out of their nose. I've got this.
He pauses in the doorway and waves me up. “Come on in. It's freezing outside.”
My feet override my brain and I hop up to the open doorway. I take a deep breath, and step inside. The inside of the trailer is much nicer than I expected. It's a small space, but with the pop outs on either side, it doesn't feel oppressive like I expected. There's an island in the kitchen with a sink, and against the walls, there's a love seat and two large movie theater chairs that both face a generous sized television. A small table and two chairs nestled against the wall complete the room, and everything's trimmed in dark wood and looks pretty solidly made.
“I hear them back in my bedroom.” Luke points at the brown leather loveseat. “If you want to wait here, you're welcome to.”
I sit and pull out my phone. I wonder what people did to kill time before phones. Stare at the wall, maybe? I'm almost finished with an email updating a local restaurant chain about the details of the offer in compromise our favorite law firm is hammering out when I hear a tiny shuffling sound.
I stand up and turn toward the noise, which is coming from the kitchen cabinets. Oh, no, please oh please let him not have mice. I shudder.
“Do you like Froot Loops?” a tiny, muffled voice asks.
I startle and look around. I don't see anyone, but the sound is definitely not coming from a mouse, thank goodness.
“I do like Froot Loops, but I think Golden Grahams are a little better, personally.” The question had to have come from his daughter Amy. “I'd love to know who's asking?”
A cabinet door opens under the kitchen counter and a small girl with dark blonde pigtails unfolds herself and climbs out. Her two braids are fuzzy, like they were done this morning and need to be combed out. She's sucking on her thumb. Didn't Luke say she was five? I'm no expert, but I don't think five year olds should still be doing that.