Читать книгу The Girls Of Mischief Bay - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 12
ОглавлениеPam sat next to John on one sofa while Jen and Kirk sat on the other. Her daughter, a pretty brunette, smiled broadly.
It didn’t seem like there was anything wrong. They both looked happy. Kirk was relaxed, which he probably wouldn’t be if he’d shot someone in the line of duty and was going to prison. Plus, they would have seen it on the news.
Pam glanced at the clock. It was barely two—probably too early to make herself a Cosmo. Although she would like to point out that it was already five in New York and probably tomorrow in Australia.
She reached for John’s hand. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“All right, you two,” he said. “You’ve kept us in suspense long enough. What’s going on? Is it a puppy?”
They were moving, Pam thought, looking at their faces. Kirk had gotten promoted or something. No, that wouldn’t work. He was on the Mischief Bay police force. It wasn’t as if they were going to relocate him to San Francisco.
Jen glanced again at Kirk, then turned back to her parents. She drew in a breath and laughed.
“No puppy. We’re pregnant!”
Pam felt her mouth drop open.
“What?” John stood and crossed to them. “Pregnant? How far along? Did you plan this? Pregnant!” He pulled his daughter into his arms. “My baby’s going to be a mommy. That’s great, honey. We’re so happy for you.”
Pam felt the room shift a little. As if one side of the house had suddenly dropped a couple of feet. She managed to stand and felt her face moving, so guessed she’d smiled. Kirk walked up to her and she hugged him because it was the obvious thing to do.
Jen pregnant. There was going to be a baby. She loved babies. Adored them. She couldn’t be happier for her daughter and son-in-law. There was only one unbelievable catch.
She was going to be a grandmother.
* * *
The Farm Table was an upscale, organic, locally sourced restaurant. The kind of place completely at home in the beachy, LA-vibe quirkiness that was Mischief Bay. Everything in the restaurant was either sustainable or repurposed. The floors were bamboo, the tables and chairs rarely matched and the dishes were all old Lenox, Spode and Wedgwood patterns. But the odds of any one table getting two place settings that were the same were slim.
Eclectic didn’t begin to describe the decor. A combination of elegant, shabby chic and country, with a rabid interest in recycling to the point that the restaurant kept a pig and two goats to eat any food leftovers that couldn’t be given to a local organization that specialized in feeding the homeless. The food was extraordinary.
There was generally at least a three-week wait to get a reservation. Which meant getting a call from Adam inviting her to dinner was only half as shocking as hearing his suggestion as to where they would go. The man obviously had some pull, she thought as she stopped in front of the valet and handed over her keys.
She tucked her clutch under her arm, walked into the restaurant and glanced around. Adam was already there, standing in the foyer. He smiled when he saw her—a warm, welcoming smile that made her feel just a little bit giddy.
She was willing to admit she had been more than a little pleased to hear from him. She hadn’t thought she would. Now, as she moved toward him, she saw his gaze drop to take in what she was wearing. The sudden widening of his eyes added to her sense of anticipation.
She’d put a lot more thought into what she would wear on this date, as opposed to the last one. Despite the fact that it was late February, this was still Southern California and evening temperatures weren’t going to dip below fifty-eight. She’d been able to wear her favorite outfit and bring a pashmina as a wrap.
The dress was one of her rare clothing splurges. An Oscar de la Renta silk cloqué cocktail dress. The fabric—a textured silk—was simply tailored. A scooped-neck tank style, front and back, fitted to the waist, then flaring out. She’d left her red hair loose and wavy, and added diamond studs for her only jewelry. She’d left her legs bare, with only a hint of a shimmery lotion to add a glow, then finished off the outfit with a classic pair of black pumps.
Honestly, she’d been hoping for some kind of a reaction and Adam didn’t disappoint. He crossed to her and took both her hands in his.
“I know this is going to get old, but wow.”
She smiled. “Thank you. You’re looking very handsome yourself.”
Dress at The Farm Table was generally nice to fancy. Adam wore a suit and tie. Men had it easy, she thought. Give them some decent tailoring and they look great.
He excused himself and gave his name to the hostess, then returned to her side.
“It’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” She stared into his dark eyes. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
His brows drew together. “Why?”
“I didn’t think our first date went very well.”
Genuine confusion tugged at his mouth. “Seriously? I thought it was good. We were getting to know each other. If you thought it went badly, why did you say yes to dinner?”
She touched his arm. “I meant I thought I wouldn’t hear from you because I got called back to work. I’m not saying it happens all the time, but when it does, I have to take care of the problem.”
There it was—her career out there. So far she liked Adam. He made her hope in a way she hadn’t for a long time. But she wasn’t going to pretend to be other than who she was for anyone and she wanted to make sure he got that.
He relaxed. “Oh, that. It’s okay. You have a job with demands. I do, too. Would you have a problem if I had to cancel because of a crisis at the job site?”
“No.”
“So we both get that we have responsibilities.”
As easy as that? “It’s my turn to say wow.”
He chuckled. “If that impresses you, then I’m doing a whole lot better than I thought. Makes me glad I called in all those favors to get the reservation here.”
“I am impressed by you and the venue. So it’s a win-win.”
“I like that in a date.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth for just a second longer than was polite.
Shannon knew it was silly to let the man’s obvious attraction win her over. She had to be feeling it, too. But she had to admit it was pretty nice to be wanted.
A voice in her head pointed out that Quinn also wanted her. Only it was on his terms, his way, on his schedule. Theirs wasn’t a relationship. It was some kind of twisted addiction. Adam just might be the right antidote.
The hostess led them to a small table by a window. They were tucked into a private alcove, a little bit away from the other diners.
“Have you dined here before?” she asked.
They both said they had.
“Then you know how our menu works. The chef has some very special dishes in store for you. Enjoy.”
The Farm Table’s menu was information, not a choice. The items changed every week and there were a few vegetarian options for main courses. Otherwise, you ate what was put in front of you. They were taking a stand and Shannon could respect that.
She glanced at the five-course menu and was grateful she hadn’t put on Spanx. At least she would have some extra room for all the yummy food.
Adam picked up his menu. “What’s a squash blossom and how do you put salmon in it?”
“It’s a plant.”
“You’re guessing.”
“No, I’m sure it’s a plant-based thing that has an opening or can be stuffed or something.”
He looked at her, his brows raised.
She sighed. “Fine. I have no idea what it is. I’m sure it’s delicious. Do you know what sorrel tastes like? We have sorrel sauce in our third course.”
“Not a clue.”
“Then I guess we’ll find out together.”
He nodded and put down his menu. “Want to go with the wine suggestions?”
“Sure.”
“Me, too.” He leaned toward her. “I really was okay about the job thing.”
“I get that now.”
“I didn’t call right away because I was away on business. The guy who’s building the hotel insisted I fly to Denver to meet with him personally. He doesn’t like email updates.”
“Not a problem.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was flaky. Or not interested.” He leaned back and smiled. “I see the biggest problem here is that you’re too attractive. I’m not sure I can see you as a person.”
“What would I be if not a person?”
“An object.” The smile faded. “All joking aside, Shannon, I’m not in this to get laid. I’m not that guy. Don’t get me wrong. Of course I want to sleep with you. I’m breathing, right? I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m a divorced father with two kids and the thought of playing the field exhausts me. I want to find somebody special. Somebody I can care about and share things with. A relationship, I guess.”
He paused and grimaced. “That was sure more than you needed to know. Sorry. Did I mention I’m not the greatest first date?”
“This is our second date.”
“That, too.”
He looked embarrassed, but she wasn’t put off by what he’d said. It was honest, and lately it seemed honest men were hard to find.
He wasn’t looking to play games or torment her or be totally in charge. He wanted to connect on a level that was meaningful.
“I appreciate what you’ve said,” she told him. “And I get it.” She did her best not to smile. “Especially the part about not wanting to sleep with me. Because every girl longs to hear that.”
He groaned. “Of course I want to sleep with you. I said that. I made that really clear.”
Their server appeared. If she’d overheard what they were saying, she didn’t let on.
“Good evening and welcome to The Farm Table. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
Despite the fact that it was a set menu, it still took a good three or four minutes to perform the niceties and order the wine. After their server left, Shannon stretched out her hand, palm up.
“It’s okay,” she told Adam.
He put his hand on top of hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”
He sighed. “Would you have before I said anything?”
“Not a chance.”
He brightened. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“You are very strange.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
The server returned with their first glass of wine. When she left Adam raised his.
“To the most beautiful woman I’ve ever gone out with and the fact that she won’t sleep with me.”
“At least tonight,” she added, before touching his glass with hers.
Adam cleared his throat. “Temptation. I like it.”
She laughed and sipped her wine. “I’m going to have to time my tempting moments. You have children and shared custody. How does that work?”
“Friday is our exchange day. My week starts when they get out of school. I have the kids this weekend, but they’re spending a night with my folks.”
“So no curfew.”
“Don’t. You’re only teasing.”
“Yes, I am.”
Conversation shifted to his work and the big hotel project. As he described it, Shannon felt as if she’d heard a conversation like this before.
“Do you know John Eiland?” she asked.
“John? Sure. His company is installing all the plumbing. Why?”
“I know them. Pam and I are friends and I hang out at their house every now and then. I’ve been to the big Memorial Day barbecue they have.”
“No way. Was last year your first one, because it’s the only one I’ve missed. I’ve been going since I was a kid and I would have remembered you.”
She laughed. “It was my first. I met Pam at Mischief in Motion. It’s an exercise studio. We take a class together three days a week.”
He shook his head. “What I would pay to see you work out.”
“Really?”
“Too much? Sorry. I’ll get my mind back in the game. John’s a great guy. And Pam’s a sweetie. She reminds me of my mom.”
“What are your thoughts on Lulu?” she asked. “Cutest dog ever or frightening genetic experiment?”
“A test. Okay, I’m good at these. Um, great personality, very well trained and the weirdest-looking dog, ever. What’s up with the clothes?”
“She’s naked. She gets cold.” Shannon sipped her wine. “And I agree with you. I love Lulu, but the spots, the pink skin. It’s not natural. Dogs should shed. It’s nature’s way of keeping us humble.”
Their first course arrived. Caviar on some kind of leaf with three drizzled sauces. There were also tiny shaved white things—turnips, so they said.
Adam stared at the dish. “You first.”
She grinned. “So you’re not the wild adventurer type.”
“I can be. But turnip and caviar? Who thought that up?”
“The famous chef in the back.” She lifted the leaf and took a bite. The saltiness blended with the faint bitterness of the leaf, while the shaved turnip piece was surprisingly sweet.
“It’s really good.”
Adam looked doubtful but followed her lead. He chewed and swallowed. “I don’t hate it.”
“Then you need to write a review.” She looked around the restaurant. “Pam and John came here for their last anniversary. They are such a great couple. I love watching them together. It makes me believe that true love is possible.”
“Otherwise you don’t believe?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I think it’s hard for people to stay together. I’ve never gotten married. You’re divorced. My friend Nicole, she’s the owner of Mischief in Motion, is having trouble in her marriage right now.”
“That’s never easy,” Adam said. “What’s going on?”
“Her husband decided to write a screenplay. Only he didn’t discuss it with her first. He just quit his job. He hasn’t worked in nearly a year. They have an almost five-year-old and Eric barely helps out at all. I feel so badly for her, and I have no idea what to say. It’s hard.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“Thanks. I try. Now, tell me about your kids,” she urged.
He smiled. “They’re great. Char—Charlotte—is going to be nine in a couple of months. Sometimes I swear she’s pushing thirty instead. She’s bossy and she would draw blood to protect her little brother. She loves anything princess-related and can’t wait to start wearing makeup. She’s beautiful and I’m terrified to think about her starting to like boys.”
He paused. “Oliver is my little man. He’s all boy. He likes trucks, building things and breaking things. He’s six. He’ll be seven this summer.”
She could hear the love and pride in his voice, which was very appealing. She’d dated plenty of guys who didn’t seem that interested in the families they’d already created. “Do you like having them half the time?”
“I’d rather have them all the time, but I accept the compromise.”
“Are you and your ex friendly?”
“We get along. I regret that my marriage failed, but I don’t miss our relationship, if that makes sense.”
“It does. I like that you don’t call her names.”
“Why would I? I married her and chose to have children with her. Calling her names means I’m the moron.”
Their server appeared to remove their plates. Conversation flowed easily throughout the rest of the meal. It was after ten when she and Adam left the restaurant. He handed her ticket to the valet, then pulled her to the side of the waiting area.
“I had a great time tonight,” he told her.
“Me, too.”
“Next time maybe you’ll let me pick you up. You know, like a real date.”
She smiled. “Next time I will.” She leaned in and lightly kissed him. His mouth was firm and warm. She drew back. “You have the kids this week, right? So we’ll keep in touch by text?”
He looked startled. “You’re okay with that?”
“Sure. It’s way too soon for them to know about me.”
“Thanks for understanding. Or to repeat myself…wow.”
She laughed.
He put his arm on her waist and drew her against him. “About that sleeping together thing.”
“Not a chance.”
“You’re amazing.”
“You are the only man I know who would say that after being told he isn’t getting laid.”
“I’m special.”
“You are.”
She had more to say but he kissed her and suddenly talking seemed highly overrated. His mouth lingered. Had they been anywhere else, she would have wanted a little more. But they were outside at a valet stand, waiting for their cars. This wasn’t the time to get into tongue.
She heard a car engine and stepped back. “That’s me,” she said, pointing at her convertible. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Promise.”
Shannon got in her car and drove away. As she headed for home, she thought about the tingles and the quivers. How just being with Adam made her feel good. This was so much better than the post sex-with-Quinn drive of shame. Something she had to remember.
* * *
Pam typed quickly on the laptop in Nicole’s small office, while Nicole sat in the chair beside the desk and waited for the news.
When she’d first bought Mischief in Motion, she’d only been able to afford basic remodeling and had put every penny into the studio itself. Her small down payment had been supplemented by money from a business angel network called Moving Women Forward. They’d given her advice along with start-up funds.
With no money left over for something as frivolous as an office, she’d made do with what she had. Her six-by-eight work space was little more than a human cubby, with a desk, two chairs and an overly bright light fixture.
Not that it mattered much to her. She was in her office as little as possible. Technology allowed all her clients to sign up for classes online. Once they created an account, they could purchase sessions individually or in packages. She received a report every day, the money was automatically deposited in her account and, best of all, she didn’t have to pay for a receptionist. That savings meant that she’d been able to hire a couple of part-time instructors and cut her work hours down to sixty instead of eighty.
About a year ago, she’d been struggling with her accounting software. She’d casually mentioned it and Pam had offered to help. Now her friend spent about an hour every couple of weeks going over the books and making sure Nicole stayed on top of things like taxes and the mortgage. Because she hadn’t just bought the business, she’d also bought the building. An expense that sometimes had her lying awake at night, wondering if she was ever going to feel that they were financially stable.
“You’re in great shape,” Pam said as she looked up. “And I’m not just talking about your ass.”
Nicole smiled. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I haven’t had to correct any entries for at least a couple of months. With the automatic payment reminders in place, you’re able to hold on to your money as long as possible and still get the bills paid on time. You, my dear, are turning into a tycoon.”
“I think tycoons take home more than what I do.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Nicole wished she had her friend’s confidence in herself. Pam had worked in her husband’s company for years so all this came easily to her. She’d also most likely paid attention in school. Nicole had grown up with the idea that an education was for other people and that she needed to focus on her art. All fine and good until the moment when art ended and the real world began.
Pam tilted her head. “Are you all right? You really are doing well. You’re putting aside money for taxes and into savings every month. The monthly costs are fairly stable and the business is growing. So why aren’t you smiling?”
“I’m smiling on the inside.” Nicole shifted in her chair. “I’m sorry. I really appreciate the help and you’re right. The news is great. I’m just tired.”
Pam nodded, but didn’t speak. She was good at that, Nicole thought. Knowing when to ask and when to keep quiet. Was it a mom thing? Would she develop the skill as Tyler got older?
The silence stretched on a few seconds more. Nicole gave in to the inevitable and sighed.
“Eric and I aren’t seeing much of each other these days,” she admitted. “I’m always heading to work and when I get home, he’s going out to his critique group or his screenwriting class. It’s hard.”
What she didn’t mention was that her husband was getting home later and later, often smelling of beer. She understood that a few people in class wanted to go out afterward, but Eric had a family to come home to. She didn’t understand what was happening to him. To them. And the unknown scared her.
“I know it’s hard,” Pam told her, her tone caring and warm. “I don’t know how you haven’t killed him. I swear to you, if John came home and told me he was quitting his job to write a screenplay, I’d back the car over him.”
“John would never do that. He’s a responsible guy. Predictable.”
Pam body tensed a little, then relaxed. “You’re right. And most of the time, that’s a good thing.”
“When isn’t it a good thing?”
Her friend shrugged. “After thirty years of marriage, a little unpredictability would be nice.”
“Is everything okay?” Nicole asked. Because selfishly, she needed Pam’s marriage to be better than her own. Somehow knowing Pam was okay gave her a safe place to be.
“We’re fine,” Pam assured her. “It’s just…” She drew in a breath. “I’m fifty.”
Nicole waited for the revelation. When Pam didn’t say anything else, she searched for some kind of meaning. “I was at your birthday party last fall. You’ve been fifty for a while.”
“I know, but I didn’t feel it before.” She waved her hand. “You’re thirty and gorgeous and you won’t understand, but trust me. One day you’re going to look in the mirror and wonder what happened. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my life. I get the blessings. My kids are still talking to us and coming over to dinner every Sunday. They’re happy. John and I are healthy and I’m pleased to see him at the end of the day. It’s just I didn’t think it would happen so fast. Me getting old.”
“Pam, you’re not old. You’re fantastic. You’re one of my best students. You can keep up with anyone. You’re in terrific shape.”
“You haven’t seen me naked,” Pam muttered. “It’s nothing like what it used to be.”
Lulu wandered into the office. Pam bent down and picked her up, then petted her.
“All I can tell you is pay attention to what you’re doing, because you’re going to blink and it’s going to have been twenty years.”
Nicole wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but she nodded, anyway. “I can see that with Tyler. He’s growing so fast. He still thinks watching my old performances is great fun. In a few years he’ll pretend he doesn’t know me.”
“They do go through that stage.” Pam cradled Lulu in her arms. “I’m glad you had all those tapes put onto DVD. You’ll always have them.”
“They’re not all that great to watch.”
“To you, maybe. I’ve only seen a couple, but they were beautiful. You’re a talented dancer.”
A few months ago talk during class had turned to her former dancing career, such as it was. Pam and Shannon had insisted on seeing proof of her claims to have danced professionally and she’d brought in a DVD.
After graduating from ASU, she’d done what every other self-respecting dancer did. She’d headed for New York. Armed with determination, a lifetime of her mother telling her that she had to be a star and recommendations and introductions from her instructors, she’d started the arduous process of going to auditions.
It had taken two brutal winters for her to realize that she simply wasn’t Broadway material. Or off-Broadway. She managed to get hired for two different Rockette shows and had danced for free for a few small productions that no one had seen. But she hadn’t had whatever it was that got dancers noticed. At the end of those two years she’d returned to LA, where at least she could be poor and hungry in a sixty-degree winter.
She’d been down to her never-to-be-touched emergency five hundred dollars. It was all that stood between her and finding a bed at a shelter. A sign outside of Mischief in Motion had said the owner was looking for someone to teach a dance-based exercise class. She’d been desperate enough to try.
Nicole had found that she liked the work. Over the next couple of years, she’d gotten certified in several kinds of fitness instruction, including Pilates. Now six years later, she owned the studio. So at least that part of her life was doing well. And she had Tyler. As for her marriage, well, maybe that was a problem for another day.
“I like what I do now,” Nicole said, knowing that she had been luckier than most. “I just need to get better at juggling.”
“Balance is never easy. I’m not sure it’s possible.” Pam rose, Lulu still in her arms. “Trust me. I think it’s like those fake holidays created by the greeting card industry. We pay attention to different things at different times in our lives. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we don’t.”
“Always with the wisdom,” Nicole teased. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
Pam smiled. “You’re already grown-up. See? Everything happens when we’re not paying attention.”
