Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You (v1.2) (7 page)

“Charming,” Shelby said as she followed Brandy across the parking lot to the dull pink stucco building, watching as two men in plaid shirts, a pair of ladies wearing hats and carrying prayer books, and a uniformed policeman— with pistol—entered the restaurant ahead of them. She’d had no idea so many people got up this early in the morning.

Brandy was immediately greeted by a young waitress dressed in a black T-shirt and matching leggings, her arms full of dishes she quickly deposited in front of four patrons sitting closest to the door. “The usual, Brandy?” the girl asked. “Who’s your friend?”

“Shelley, this here is Tabby. Shelley’s staying with me for a little while, Tabby. Oh, and she takes her coffee black.”

“Black, gotcha,” the waitress answered, never stopping in what seemed to be a well-orchestrated perpetual motion that had her now picking up empty plates, dropping a check on the table, and joking with the patrons, calling all of them by their first names.

It was all too much. Tabby, and three more women very much like her, were all equally busy, as nearly every chair, every booth, was occupied by talking people, laughing people, people reading morning newspapers, people nursing hot coffee or just staring into space, still trying to wake up.

Barely controlled chaos, that was what it was, and Shelby shook her head as she sat down, and looked across the table at Brandy. “How do you stand it?” she asked. “All this noise so early in the morning.”

“Oh, it’s always like this at Tony’s,” Brandy explained as Tabby upended the brown ceramic mugs already on the table and poured coffee into them. “Isn’t it, Tabby? Shelley, do you need to see a menu?”

“Hmmm?” Shelby asked, realizing that Brandy was talking to her. She’d been watching a man built more for sitting than moving pouring maple syrup over a stack of three pancakes that were already smothered in blueberries. “Oh. Oh, no, I suppose not.” She smiled up at the waitress. “I’ll have the fresh melon, thank you. Perhaps a small slice of prosciutto.”

Brandy and Tabby laughed at the same time. “Melon?” Tabby repeated as she pulled out her order pad. “Honey, the closest thing we’ve got to fruit is orange juice. You want some of that? And some bacon and eggs, of course. You like your home fries light or dark?”

“I—I…” Shelby gave up, watching Tabby scribble on the pad. “That will be, um, just fine. Thank you, Tabby.”

Brandy watched Shelby across the table, smiling at the other woman’s confusion. “You’re not used to this, are you, Shelley? Didn’t you ever eat out in New York ?”

“In New— Oh! Oh, yes, of course I did. This is… this is very nice. Really.”

“Yeah, right,” Brandy said, putting her elbows—and her cards—on the table. She’d tried half the night to think up subtle ways to worm the truth out of Shelley, then decided she didn’t know subtle from Saturn. “Look, Shelley—if that’s really your name—don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth?”

Shelby took refuge in sipping her coffee, which was amazingly good. The entire restaurant smelled quite good. Her stomach must have agreed, because it grumbled at her as she decided that a scrambled egg might not be such a bad idea. Unless her rumbling stomach was trying to warn her that she’d run out of lies and she was about to be found out for the fake she was. There was that.

“The truth, Brandy? I did tell you the truth last night.”

“Sure you did, kiddo, even though I was sort of holding out on you. I forgot to mention that I’m the queen of England .” She reached a hand across the table, squeezed Shelby’s fingers. “You’ve run away, haven’t you? What happened? Did you cause some scandal at the country club? Did Daddy cut off your allowance? Are you pregnant?”

“Pregnant? Good God, no!” Shelby withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry, Brandy. I’ll pack and leave immediately.”

“Oh, don’t be a jerk,” Brandy said easily, then sat back as Tabby arrived with two heaping plates of bacon, toast, scrambled eggs, and home fries. “Let’s eat, okay, and then you can tell me whatever you want to tell me. And if you don’t want to tell me anything, then that’s okay, too. I just want to help, that’s all.”

“Thank you, Brandy,” Shelby said sincerely, then looked down at the plate in front of her, her eyes going wide in her head. “Good Lord, am I really supposed to
eat
all of this?”

“Beats the hell out of Slim-Fast, doesn’tit?” Brandy said, laughing. “I don’t know why I think I’ll ever get back in a size eight. Not when Tony’s doing the cooking. Now eat up, Shelley. It’ll do you a world of good.”

“I highly doubt that,” Shelby said, gingerly picking up her fork and stabbing it into a fluffy mound of scrambled eggs. She remembered Jeremy’s views on cholesterol, believing the man would fall into a swoon if he could see her plate now. Who was she kidding? Jeremy would fall into a swoon if he even
heard
of East Wapaneken . “Um… the wait staff—do they all know CPR?”

“What, you want to live forever?” Brandy asked, her mouth full of delicious, greasy home-fried potatoes. Then she went for the whole thing, because she wasn’t subtle, and the suspense was killing her. “But if you’re not going to eat you’re going to have to talk to me. Which is it, Shelley?”

Shelby put down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with the thin paper napkin. “What gave me away?”

Brandy held up a finger as she chewed and swallowed. “What
didn’t
give you away? Your clothes, your shoes, that watch on your arm. Eating pizza with a knife and fork, for crying out loud. You’re about as out of place as… as, well, as you look sitting here in Tony’s right now. Admit it, Shelley; you’re rich. And on the lam from something. Or someone.”

Shelby looked at the eggs, looked at Brandy, and gave up. “I suppose I should tell you the truth. I thought I’d
blend
better than I have, but I can see now that it was only wishful thinking on my part. All right, here goes. My name is Shelby Taite, Brandy, and I’ve run away from home, my fiance, and a rich and pampered life that is slowly driving me insane. I had this crazy idea: I wanted to taste real life, with real people, and I wanted to disappear for a while as I did that.”

Brandy looked at Shelby , her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Running
away
from the good life. Now there’s a switch.”

“And you think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you? But it would have worked, really, except my brother canceled my credit card, probably thinking that would have me running home before dark. I’ve got four hundred twenty-three dollars and fifty-three cents in my wallet, and I’ll absolutely have to kill myself if I have to call Somerton and beg him to come get me. And, even though you didn’t ask, no, I’ve never been in a place like this before this morning. I didn’t even know anything like this existed. I mean, I once saw a PBS documentary on diners and the changing culinary scene in America , but… Well, I think I’ve been talking long enough.”

She sat back against the wobbly wooden chair and folded her arms across her chest as she blinked back annoying tears. Less than twenty-four hours on her own, and she had already failed. It was more than depressing. “There. Is that honest enough?”

Brandy’s jaw had dropped halfway through Shelby’s confession and she popped some eggs into her mouth, then used her fork to push her chin back up before saying, “Wow. Oh, wow. This is like that movie. You know. Clark Gable and that girl—don’t remember her name.
It Happened One Night,
that’s it. Old movie, dead old. This rich girl swan dives off Daddy’s yacht and runs away—takes a bus, too, if I’m remembering right—to see how the other half lives, or something like that. You’re really rich, Shell— Shelby ?”

“Filthy,” Shelby admitted with a weak grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Brandy shook her head. “What are you sorry about? I think it’s cool. And you’re engaged? What’s the matter? Don’t you love him?”

Confession must be good for the soul, because Shelby was beginning to feel better. Much better. Good enough to say exactly what she thought.” I don’ t know. “She looked at Brandy, shrugged her shoulders. “I really don’t know for certain. But I don’t think he loves me. We’re just sort of merging two old families.”

“Ah, honey, that stinks.”

Shelby reached into her pocket for her handkerchief, Brandy’s sympathy starting up the waterworks yet again. But, somehow, these were cleansing tears. “It does, doesn’t it? But I could be wrong,” she added hopefully. “I mean, Parker
could
love me. He just doesn’t seem to know how to show it very well. And Somerton says everything will be fine, that it’s a splendid match. And… and we’ve already picked the china pattern.”

“Screw the china,” Brandy told her bracingly. “And eat your breakfast. God knows you could use a little meat on your bones. That’s a good girl—take a big bite. Now, let’s talk about what we’re going to do, okay? Because if it’s a few weeks out on your own that you want, to see if this Parker guy comes after you, worried sick and telling you he can’t live without you, then we’re going to have to get you a job or something until he does the white-knight bit, right?”

“A job? Brandy, you can’t get me a job. My degree is in French Literature. Besides, I’ve never worked a day in my life.”

“Never? Jeez. And you’re what—twenty-four, twenty-five? I should be so lucky. I’ve been working at least part-time since I was sixteen. Okay, we’ll work on it. You wouldn’t believe some of the jerks I’ve gotten jobs for. You must have some skills, Shelby .”

“Shelley,” Shelby interrupted. “I think, if Somerton is going to be looking for me, that I really should continue being Shelley Smith. Don’t you?”

Brandy shrugged, already concentrating on the project at hand. “Whatever works for you, I suppose,
Shelley.
Now, tell me what sort of skills you have, and I’ll check out the files when I get to work. You do have a Social Security card, don’t you? I mean, rich people still need those, don’t they?”

Shelby smiled, liking her new friend very much. “Yes, we still need them. You know, Jim was right. There’s nothing better than a small town.”

“Jim?”

“Our chauffeur,” Shelby told her. “He used to live here, right in East Wapaneken , and told me about how happy he and his daughter were here, how they can’t wait to come back once Susie is finished with college.”

“Oh, Jim Helfrich,” Brandy said, nodding her head. “That was real sad when his wife died. We knew he moved to Philly to be near Susie. Your chauffeur, huh? Well, it sure is a small world. A chauffeur. Man, you weren’t kidding, were you? You’re really rolling in it, aren’t you?”

“Rolling in— Oh. Oh, yes. I suppose you could say that. But not right now, Brandy, which is why I’d like to hear more about how you think you’ll be able to find me employment. Nothing permanent, you understand, as even Uncle Alfred won’t be able to convince Somerton that I should be out on my own for more than a few weeks. Because I do have to go home again, Brandy. Sooner or later I have to go home.”

“Somerton? That’s your brother? Never mind, of course he is. And Uncle Alfred. And Parker. Sound like names out of a book, not real names. I don’t know, Shelley, but it also sounds to me like you’ve got a lot of people who are probably real worried about you right now.”

Shelby’s jaw stiffened. “They’re so worried about me that Somerton had my credit card cut up,” she reminded her new friend. “Now it means twice as much to me to prove that I can survive on my own, live the way ninety-nine percent of the world lives, working every day, paying their own way. I can’t go home with my tail between my legs, Brandy, I just can’t. Not until I experience real life, make some memories.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, memories. Got it,” Brandy agreed, her head turned as Tony pushed open the door leading from the kitchen and walked into the restaurant. “And here, I’m thinking, comes the answer to your first problem, Shelley. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before now, considering I’ve had to listen to Tony griping about Thelma all the time these past two weeks. I mean, how dare she have the nerve to go see her first grandchild, right? Now tell me quick—you go to parties, don’t you? You
give
parties. You’d have to. Rich people are probably giving parties left and right, acting as hostess, greeting guests, that sort of stuff?”

“Well, yes, I’ve hosted a few parties. And I organized the ball for Saint Christopher’s Hospital for Children last year. Why?”

“You’ll see. Tony! Hey, Tony—can you c’mere a minute?”

Shelby watched as a tall, thin man about forty years old and wearing plaid Bermuda shorts, a green Philadelphia Eagles shirt, and a greasy white apron over all of it, shambled across the room, heading in their direction.

The man stood at least six feet, five inches tall, or he would if he didn’t walk with his knees bent slightly, his nearly nonexistent shoulders hunched as if he spent most of his time working over a table too low for his comfort. He had a shock of sandy red hair, a long, angular face, and looked as if he was wearing most of the food he’d been cooking, and never eating any of it.

“What’s up, Brandy?” he asked as he rolled to a stop at their table, totally ignoring Shelby . “I gotta get back there before Julio goes after Tabby with a knife. I’m telling you, if I had a single waitress who knew how to write down an order without screwing it up…”

“Just another day in paradise, huh, Tony?” Brandy interrupted, grinning. “I’d like you to meet someone. A new friend of mine, Shelley Smith. She’s a hostess.”

“Brandy, I—” Shelby sighed, held out her hand. After all, she had wanted an adventure, hadn’t she? And this would really be something to tell her grandchildren, a memory to make her smile as she sat at some string quartet recital pretending she wasn’t bored clear to her toes. At least it would be, if Brandy was about to do what Shelby thought she was about to do. “How do you do, Mr., um…”

“Just Tony,” the man told her shortly, ignoring her outstretched hand. “Where’d you hostess?”

“Where?” Shelby repeated, then felt Brandy’s kick under the table. “ Philadelphia ,” she said quickly. “I hostessed—er, was a hostess in Philadelphia .”

“Philly, huh? Fat lot they probably know about running a place busy as this. But okay. I only need someone for a coupla weeks, until Thelma decides to get her butt back from Oklahoma . Hours are noon to nine six days a week, with Tuesdays off. You can start today.”