A Fine Romance (3 page)

Hearing nothing, Sam eased the door open. Slid in sideways and ended up face-to-face with his mother. Crap.

In the middle of hanging her brown apron on the hook, Kathleen froze. “What happened to you, honey? You’re sopping wet. Didn’t it stop raining before you left?”

“Yeah.” This was the problem with living above the bakery. No damn privacy. If Sam wanted to bring two hookers in zebra-striped lingerie home for a nooner, he should be able to. Even though all Sam really wanted right now was to collapse in front of C-SPAN with a beer. Other guys relaxed over Xbox, or in front of mindless horror flicks. As a political news junkie, nothing made Sam happier than a couple of hours of talking heads going at each other. A man’s apartment was supposed to be his castle. Unless said man lived above the family business where his mom still held the reins.

“Did you get in a water-balloon fight?”

Sam didn’t hold back the impulse to roll his eyes. “I’m not twelve, Mom. Why do you think I’d spend a Sunday having a water-balloon fight?”

“Exactly what I was wondering,” she said crisply. Then she smoothed a hand over her short white hair...and waited. Wielding silence like a battering ram in that way all mothers had.

Might as well get it over with. “I met our new neighbor.”

“Ivy’s friend from grad school?” Her eyes, just a few shades paler than his, sparkled with curiosity. Kathleen adored new people. “The one who’s going to run the store?”

“Yeah.” Right next door. Sam thought about the off-the-charts hotness of his new neighbor. How hard it would be to have someone that beautiful just on the other side of the wall, every day. Someone he couldn’t possibly date. Not least of all, because he’d royally fucked up the all-important first impression.

Kathleen stepped out of the bright green clogs that helped her survive the long days of standing behind the counter. “Is she nice?”

He gestured at his drenched shirt. “Well, she did this to me. What do you think?”

“I think she needs some manners.”

Yeah, it felt good to have his mom leap to his defense after the way Mira had slapped at him. Of course, they would be working side by side. Probably a good idea not to start her off on the wrong foot with
all
the Lyons. “It wasn’t completely her fault.”

She dragged him down the narrow hallway to the front counter. Grabbed a dish towel and rubbed it over his wet hair. “What happened?”

Sam wanted to tell her. ’Cause he did feel guilty as hell for leaving Mira to fend for herself at the airport. Wanted to tell his mother that worrying about her had caused it. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t lay that burden on her for fear she’d break...again.

At first he hadn’t thought taking care of his mom would be any big deal. Figured his dad’s request would be more of an honorary thing. Kathleen already ran the bakery. Was a magician with pie crusts. Had a huge circle of friends—his mom never met a stranger she didn’t squeeze the life story out of in ten minutes flat. She reminded him of a cheerful little steam engine, puffing straight ahead through life. Sam hadn’t anticipated what would happen when she ran out of fuel.

It had only been a year since seeing his mom’s number on his phone spelled disaster. That some kind stranger had called her pre-programmed
in
case
of
emergency
number because she’d broken down into a sobbing heap at the grocery store, or the sidewalk. Or, one memorable time, stopped her car in the middle of freaking Clybourn St. during rush hour, lay down on the seats and cried for half an hour until the police showed up.

Now, they worked side by side all day in the bakery. Kathleen didn’t have much need to ever call him. So when her number popped up in his phone, it still induced gut-clenching fear. That she’d fallen apart again. That this time, she’d been dragged off—again!—to the emergency room. That yet again, his mother’s physical and mental deterioration proved that Sam had failed his father.

Kathleen looked better on the outside. Seemed fine. But who could tell, really? Who knew what might set off another downward spiral? Sam couldn’t, wouldn’t let it happen again. Couldn’t let his mother suffer or let down his father. If that meant turning his life upside down to keep her protected, so be it.

He sank onto a chair by one of the bistro tables. Stared at the brown, dotted Swiss curtains but instead saw Mira’s face. Even surrounded by wet streaks of mascara, her eyes caught his attention right off. No, she didn’t deserve to be stranded by him like that. But his mom didn’t deserve—and probably couldn’t handle—the guilt of knowing she’d caused the snafu, even indirectly. And God, Sam was tired of running everything he said or did through that filter.

“It was just a misunderstanding, Mom.”

“Oh. Well, then.” She bustled behind the counter and rummaged in the display case. “Give her this.”

A glossy stripe of chocolate rose out of a ruffled paper border. “An éclair?”

Kathleen shook her head. “Lyons’ famous triple-chocolate éclair. You of all people know that chocolate makes everything better.” She came around, kissed him on the head, then dug her fingers into his armpit. Sam jerked out of reach, almost tipping over the chair. He hated being tickled. “Tell her it’s a peace offering. We don’t want to start off on bad terms with our neighbor.”

He watched her leave. Heard the drone of the washing machine she must’ve started. Smelled the faint tang of yeast in the air from all the dough she’d prepped for the morning. All evidence pointed to his mother being a wholly normal, productive member of society. That maybe Sam could dial back the constant worry and overprotectiveness a couple of notches. And yet...he couldn’t. Not yet. Not if there was the slightest chance his heightened alert could prevent another incident. So Sam would continue to put her first. No matter what.

Chapter Two

“I’m so thrilled you’re here.” Ivy gave Mira a one-armed hug, then quickly separated before they walked into a gingko tree on the edge of the sidewalk. As usual, Ivy looked perfect. A wide, hot-pink sash drew attention to her tiny waist. Below, her blush-pink sundress belled out like an open tulip. Matching sandals with ankle ties pulled the ensemble straight into magazine worthiness. She was about one pink hair bow away from impersonating a cake topper. Chirping birds should circle her head. Except that the concerto of honking horns of Chicago’s morning rush hour drowned out the possibility of hearing any birdsong.

Mira looked down at her own faded black workout shorts and bilious green Camp Ticonderoga tee. She’d dressed to unpack boxes of inventory rather than impress on her first day of work. Staring at the closet this morning, it seemed the proactive, professional approach. A way to show her new boss just how ready she was to push up her own proverbial sleeves. But next to Ivy’s crisp appearance, Mira knew the only thing she looked ready for was a marathon day of soap operas on the couch with perhaps a silver foil sash to proclaim her queen of the slobs.

Determined not to let self-consciousness ruin her first-day buzz, Mira squeezed back. “I’ve missed you, too. But you’ve got to stop hugging me every ten steps. We look ridiculous. Like drunks just staggering home after an all-nighter. I’m supposed to be a respected member of the business community here, as of, well, right about now.”

Ivy laughed and let go. “If I promise to take you to the next neighborhood association meeting, will you let me keep hugging you? You can wear a very serious suit and impress everyone with your business acumen. Nobody will recognize you as the possible sloppy drunk doing the walk of shame her first day in the city.”

“Aww, how could I turn down such a professional and heartfelt invitation?”

“Besides, I owe you about two hundred more hugs, and it’s going to be hard to squeeze those in before I leave.”

Two months had passed since that first rushed and excited phone call when Ivy asked her to manage the store. In the back would be all the ingredients for the perfect spontaneous picnic; wine, cheese, bread, gourmet finger food. Upfront, an array of picnic baskets, blankets, wine glasses, vases, and all sorts of romantic tchotchkes. At that time, A Fine Romance existed only in Ivy’s head. But the idea of it alone was enough to get Mira on board. And every single day since, Ivy had emailed or called to thank her for taking the leap. It astonished her Ivy didn’t realize
she
was the one giving
Mira
an amazing opportunity, not the other way around. Especially after the string of bad luck she’d had with her last few jobs.

“Ivy, I know you’re glad I’m here, but you don’t owe me anything. Except for a paycheck every two weeks, with the upgrade to profit sharing after our wildly successful first year.”

Those dainty sandals skidded to a halt. Ivy’s mouth rounded into comical chagrin. “Are you kidding? You are saving my bacon here, kiddo. The idea for a romance store’s been dripping into my head with the persistence of Chinese water torture for a few years. Two things stopped me from moving forward, though. Even though I talked myself hoarse at every bank in town, I couldn’t finagle a loan.”

“That still shocks me. You can talk anyone into anything. Isn’t that how you manage to coax your brides away from their tackier decorating ideas, like the photo place cards? Oh, and the ball and chain groom’s cake?”

“I try to use my powers of persuasion for good,” Ivy said with a deceptively modest smile. “Which was the second problem. I already own Aisle Bound. My job as a wedding planner is full-time, and then some. The idea for A Fine Romance was too special, too dear to me to hand over to just anyone. You’re the only person I trust to bring my dream to life. Once the start-up money fell in my lap, it was a dream come true.”

No pressure or anything. “Since he’s not here to stand up for himself, I’d like to point out that your starring role on a reality television show led you straight into Ben’s arms. Meeting the love of your life was the real dream come true. Taking obscene amounts of money to let people film your every working moment was merely good business sense.”

“Ben’s going to love you.” Ivy steered Mira around the corner. One block off the main drag, the noise level dropped by half. Birds warbled in the leafy treetops. The buildings were less obviously commercial, with a row of converted brownstones housing boutiques and two art galleries. The neighborhood looked both affluent and inviting. It guaranteed their store would get lots of foot traffic. Even the wet mantle of late-August humidity steamed a tad less ferociously on this shady street.

Talking about Ben was a surefire way to get Ivy off the unrelenting string of thanks. Mira couldn’t wait to meet the man who’d so thoroughly enamored her friend. “He’s got good taste. Case in point, that two-carat stunner weighing down your left hand. Show me again.”

With an actual squeal of delight, Ivy thrust out her hand and waggled her ring finger. “Isn’t it beautiful? I catch myself staring at it so many times during the day. As a wedding planner, I watch brides flash their engagement rings all the time, so I thought I’d be immune. But when the sparkle’s on your own finger, it’s irresistible.”

Mira had seen enough fancy jewelry in her mother’s safe to know the real deal. Ivy’s new fiancé had exquisite taste. Two carats, flawless cushion cut with impeccable clarity. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. But—” She broke off, unsure of how to proceed. She and Ivy had forged an unbreakable bond in grad school, and the intervening years hadn’t weakened their friendship in the slightest. Sharing secrets and venting frustrations over midnight cell phone calls was easy. Asking the hard questions face-to-face while still adjusting to the transition of friends to friend-and-boss might be trickier.

“What is it? You know you can ask me anything.”

“This whole thing with you and Ben. The engagement—you know I’m thrilled. Nobody’s looked harder for happiness than you.”

“Want to know a secret?” Ivy swiveled her head from side to side, as if checking for the reality show cameras, which were on a break this month. “Looking for love didn’t work. What did work was being open to the possibility when I landed at its feet.”

The very Zen approach clashed with Ivy’s history of blatant husband hunting. Ivy threw herself headlong into relationships. She could downhill slalom her way through anything a guy (or as Ivy called all her dates, a potential husband) threw at her. No matter how weird his hobbies—including turtle racing—or strange his family—goat herders—Ivy viewed every first date as the first step toward the altar. Adorable in high school, cute in college, but a fault that led to a train wreck of adult relationships.

“It’s just that, well, I feel like I’d be remiss in my friendship duties if I didn’t ask you this horrible, intrusive question. Ben proposed to you after only a couple of months. It happened so fast. How can you be sure?”

“Believe it or not, you aren’t the first person to question our speed match. Especially given my track record of falling head over heels for every guy I ever dated.

“Love, true love, feels different. I can’t explain it.”

Neither the reasoned or impassioned answer Mira expected to hear. “You, of all people, are at a loss for words about love?”

Ivy grinned. “Yep. Ben leaves me speechless with happiness.”

“Wow. I can’t wait to meet this paragon of manliness.”

“Oh, he’s no paragon, trust me. After traveling the world living in hotels for a decade, Ben’s not used to having a kitchen. Something as simple as making a sandwich results in an average of four plates, an arm’s length of paper towels and a slew of topless jars. A toddler would make less of a mess. Drives me absolutely bonkers.” She clasped her hands to her chest and batted her eyelashes. “But he’s all mine. And when it comes to our relationship, he can be even sappier than me.”

“Not possible. An injection of straight-up insulin has less sugar in it than you do. Hearts and flowers are your thing, Ivy.”

“And now they’re your thing. Here we are.” Ivy stopped in front of a storefront with large windows covered in brown butcher paper. Across the top of the door was stenciled A Fine Romance. Mira recognized the font as the same as Ivy’s purple logo for Aisle Bound, but this one was in bright red. Seeing the logo made it all so real. It would be on business cards, stationery, gift bags, receipts. This was her chance to get in on the ground floor of a business, truly shape it from day one, and Mira couldn’t possibly be more excited. Her heart thumped in triple time as Ivy pressed a key ring into Mira’s palm. A large silver heart weighted down the circle of four keys.

“Okay, one more hug, and then I have to run.”

A second reference to leaving. She’d ignored the first one, but now Ivy sounded serious. Sure, day-to-day control belonged to her now, but there were things on which Mira needed to be brought up to speed. How did the security system work? Did Chicago delivery men expect to be tipped, or not? Where did they keep the petty cash for tips? In the dangerous, albeit unlikely event one of their new shelving systems fell over, where was the nearest urgent-care clinic? At least a dozen more questions scrolled through her mind in an eye blink.

“What are you talking about? You can’t go anywhere. It’s my first day.” Although she’d aimed for a playful tone, bordering on nonchalance, Mira feared a quaver of panic had slipped through.

Ivy worried her lip between her two front teeth. “Yes, well, that’s why I owe you so many hugs. You see, I have to pick Ben up from the airport.”

“Today?” Still smarting from her own lack of a pickup yesterday, Mira couldn’t understand Ivy’s desertion on such a momentous day. Ben lived here now. Certainly he knew how to use the El. Why couldn’t he get himself home? This was a new beginning, a new life. And now she’d have to start it alone? Without anyone to ooh and ahh over the beautiful stock as they unpacked it? Without anyone to share her barely containable excitement and dance around the big, empty space in sheer joy at the possibilities ahead of them?

It was subtle, but Mira caught Ivy’s surreptitious eye flick to the watch on her left wrist. Apparently there wouldn’t even be a happy-first-day shared coffee and muffin before she got abandoned. All the more upsetting to contemplate because a rich butter and sugar aroma wafted through the air, teasing her nostrils.

“Right now,” Ivy said. “Ben’s been gone all week at headquarters in New York doing preproduction. Or maybe post-production. Between you and me, I tune out some of the time when he gets into work details. He’s got some funny stories, but he’s also full of dull rants about digital conversion points and lighting issues and a host of camera things that fly right over my head.” She took a breath, smiled at Mira and grabbed her hands. “The point is that he’s coming home, and I’ve missed him terribly. So I’m going to battle rush-hour traffic to pick him up at O’Hare and greet him with a barrage of smooches. You can handle this. You’re on your own here this morning.”

“Ivy, it’s too much. I wouldn’t know where to begin.” Not actually true. Mira knew she’d figure it out once she got in the door. The component she’d miss was her friend Ivy, not Ivy as a boss.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Next to me, you’re the most ruthlessly organized person on the planet. It’s one of the reasons I hired you. The preliminary stock you ordered began rolling in a few days ago. You’ll have plenty to do unpacking it and figuring out where you want to put it all. I promise I’ll be back this afternoon to go over all of the nitty-gritty details. And draft an ad for a part-time cook.” Ivy cocked her hand and gave a quick, double-handed squeeze. “I’m so sorry to leave you in the thick of it.”

Mira stood up a little straighter, firming her spine both physically and emotionally. The last few moments of panic could be explained as typical new-city jitters. And she’d shake them off here and now. No more clinging to Ivy, or counting on her to introduce her to the ins and outs of the city. Not even to point her toward the nearest coffee shop. She’d strike out on her own. Maybe map out a route to run in the morning and explore the city from its sidewalks. Mira reached back to caress the smooth, solid doorknob. It gave her the strength to flash a confident smile.

“Nope. I refuse to let you apologize for letting me in on this amazing opportunity. You had the bright idea. Now it’s up to me to bring it to life.” And after she’d unpacked five boxes, she’d reward herself by tracking down the source of that heavenly, sweet scent.

“Are you sure you don’t need a day to recover from your stint at camp? I hear wrangling teenagers can be exhausting.”

Mira laughed. “Very true, but I can’t wait to dig in. I’m on the clock, boss.”

As promised, Ivy leaned in for another hug, this time with both arms. “Enjoy your new kingdom.”

“I like the sound of that. We should consider tiaras as part of the uniform.”

“You get this store up and running, I’ll bring you a tiara for opening day.”

“Deal. You should know that I prefer pearls over diamonds. Now go get that wonderful man of yours.”

With Ivy gone, Mira realized she sort of liked the idea of tackling the store by herself on the first day. Begin as you mean to go on. If only her life came with a soundtrack, there’d be a big swell of music as she put the key in the lock. This could be the first day of the rest of her life. No, that wasn’t any good. It made it sound like she’d been shipped straight from an intervention to rehab. This could be the first day of a grand adventure. Much better, she grinned, and slipped inside
her
store.

Thanks to the morning brightness outside, even after slipping off her sunglasses Mira couldn’t see anything but shadowy shapes. She groped along the wall for a light switch as she waited for her eyes to adjust. Finding nothing, she wondered if Ivy had turned on the electricity yet. One of what was to be sure a hundred burning questions.

Before taking another step, she reached into her bag. Better to jot down each concern immediately, than risk forgetting it. Lists were her life. They gave her structure, order and at least the illusion of sanity no matter how much chaos swirled around her. Each new job didn’t really begin until she’d purchased a planner, complete with multiple tabs, pockets and lots of pages. This one was lipstick red, to match the store’s logo. Sure, some of it ended up on a computer eventually, but you couldn’t slip a computer into your back pocket.