Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) (16 page)

“The tall guy with the blond hair?” Liza asked.

“Yeah, Nick Frasier. I think that’s his wife, the one with curly hair. Who are you talking about?”

“Keith Morgan. Ex-professional tennis player. Harmony’s newest resident. You should come home more often.”

“No kidding.” Jane glanced in Keith’s direction again. “Is he married? Is that his wife?” Jane was referring to little Alice in Wonderland wearing the black headband.

“Not yet. But he’s officially looking, and I guess he’s trying her out.”

“Look at them.” Jane sighed. “What I wouldn’t do to be one of those lucky bitches.” She and Liza giggled.

“Girl, I’m telling you. You’re missing some good stuff. All of Harmony is hot for this guy,” Liza said, watching the waitress deliver drinks to Keith’s table. His young chirpy ordered a Coke. Guess she wasn’t old enough to drink.

“This sounds good. I can only imagine.”

Liza slid her gaze back to Jane’s animated face. “Let’s see…there’s Arlene of course, and Jo Ellen and Mary Ann. And none of them stand a chance. Because guess who’s decorating his house?”

“I know. Bertie.” Jane clapped her hands.

“The one and only. And you know what else?” Liza leaned in so her voice didn’t travel. “Keith has got the hots for her.”

“No. Bertie? Really? Wow. Good for her. She deserves it.”

Liza savored another sip and nodded.

“You two still sniping at each other? I never could understand why Bertie hated you so much.”

Liza’s martini suddenly didn’t taste as good as it made a bitter path down her throat. She lowered her gaze. “She doesn’t hate me. At least, I don’t think she does. She’s sort of been kind of mad at me for a really long time.”

“Yeah, well, I guess stealing her date at senior prom probably didn’t help your cause.” Jane tipped her drink at Liza.

Or kissing her brother.
“No. I’m sure it didn’t. But you want to know something?” Liza fiddled with the silver ring on her finger. “I did Bertie a favor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember Barton Williams? Bertie’s date?” Jane nodded, and Liza continued to tell her the story she’d only leaked to one other person. “He was a real jerk. He’d been bragging about how he was doing Bertie some big favor by taking her to prom. He knew she had a crush on him, and he wanted to be the one to rid her of her virginity. He kept talking about her great boobs. It was all a stupid game to him.”

“How did you know?” Jane asked.

“I overheard him talking to some guys out in the hall. They were drinking from their flasks.” Liza pulled a frown as she remembered that night. “He was so cocky and full of himself. I really didn’t want him to be Bertie’s first time. I mean, who would want that as a memory, right?”

“No kidding,” Jane said. “So how did you end up making out with him? I remember Bertie leaving the prom with this fake smile on her face, acting like everything was fine. I knew she was hurt.”

Liza winced as she pictured Bertie in her taffeta green gown, all color drained from her face. “I’m not proud of what I did. I came on to him because I knew he had a thing for me. For all the cheerleaders. It didn’t take much to get him to kiss me.”

“Does Bertie know why you did it?”

“No. And I don’t want her to. I mean, it’s better if she thinks I’m a jerk. I don’t want her knowing what he said about her.”

“I get it. What an asshole.” Jane waved the waitress over. “Let’s order another round and then take turns peeking at the two most delectable guys in North Carolina. I am seriously thinking about moving back home if that gorgeous hunk is wife hunting. I’d make a good wife.”

“He has a ten-year-old daughter. He’s really looking for a surrogate mother.”

“Shit. Forget it. I don’t want an instant family.”

Liza chuckled. “I didn’t think so.”

Jane chatted nonstop about their past and the fun times they used to have. Liza half listened while her gaze continued to dart in Keith’s direction. Keith kept pulling on the collar of his brown pullover sweater as if it itched. For a smart guy, Keith Morgan sure exhibited signs of being a complete moron. Half the women in Harmony would be a better match than this timid-looking mouse. Liza couldn’t believe he was going to all this trouble when the perfect solution was right under his gorgeous, scruffy chin. Keith didn’t want this child bride. He wanted Bertie.

A million thoughts danced in Liza’s head. Bertie and Keith would make a great couple. Bertie would keep him on his toes, and she’d be a great mom to Keith’s daughter. And Keith could calm Bertie down, keep her from burning out, and give her the love that she deserved. Keith and Bertie needed to stop dodging each other. They needed a friendly push. Being a tough, corporate lawyer had its perks. Liza knew how to push people into doing what she wanted. If only her relationship with Bertie wasn’t on such rocky ground, she’d be able to help those two clueless lovebirds—like giving them both a big-ass shove.

***

Disbelief knocked Keith back in his chair, followed by dread as Liza Palmer sauntered over to his table wearing tight jeans, pink cowboy boots, and a shit-eating grin. Conversation came to a complete halt as she sidled up next to him.

“Hello, Prince,” she purred. Keith’s chair scraped the wood floor as he and Nick both stood.

“Keep your seats, boys.” Liza motioned to their chairs.

Keith cleared his throat and made the introductions. Liza shook everyone’s hand and introduced her friend, Jane somebody. Keith invited them to join his party. Liza, always the opportunist, jumped at the chance, while her friend stepped out to make a call. Great. Now he had snoop-dog Liza as an audience to witness his personal bride dating game.

So far, this date held no surprises. It hovered right around mid-pleasant. No drama. No fireworks. It exceeded his expectations, not that they’d been very high. The Frasiers could be intimidating with their larger-than-life personalities, but Gail had managed to hold her own in a quiet, unassuming way. She spoke intelligently about her tennis league with Marabelle and became more animated when she discovered Marabelle had been a kindergarten teacher and they had children’s books in common.

For some reason, Keith couldn’t get past the difference in their ages. He felt twenty years older, when in reality only ten years separated them. The age gap felt like a massive hole the size of a canyon when Liza, with her all-knowing smirk, kicked him under the table when the barmaid asked for Gail’s ID before serving her a glass of white wine. Gail gave a nervous twitter and her hands shook as she rummaged for her license through her sensible black pleather handbag covered in nifty Velcroed compartments.

Bertie’s image popped into his head, and Keith knew, like he knew the grip of his own racket, that if Bertie had to show her ID, she would’ve laughed and made a joke about how she hoped to still be carded when she turned fifty. Jesus. Keith gave himself a mental punch. He needed to stop making Bertie comparisons and focus on his goal: finding someone safe and calm. Maddie needed a stable home with a loving and caring mother who gave her the continuity Maddie craved and he lacked. Gail was perfect for this role. She would help raise Maddie with a steady hand. So what if she was a little shy? Maddie would love her. Hell, they were practically the same age.
Fuck.

Keith squeezed Gail’s cold hand. “Having fun? Boy, I sure am. Why don’t we order some food?” He waved the waitress over.

Liza whispered close to his ear, “This is pathetic. I think I’ll get drunk.”

Maddie swiped a deep purple eye shadow over Bertie’s closed lids.

“You’re gonna love this,” Maddie giggled.

“You’re not making me look like bridezilla, are you?” Bertie said, keeping her eyes closed while Maddie worked.

“No. More like Lady Gaga.”

“Oh Lord,” Bertie groaned, and Maddie giggled again, clearly having the time of her life as she rubbed more blush on Bertie’s cheeks.

“Almost done.” Maddie unfastened the tube of black mascara sitting on the bathroom countertop.

“Here, let me do that. I don’t want you poking my eye out.” Bertie took the mascara wand from Maddie and turned toward the makeup mirror. “Holy cra—I mean, wow. You weren’t kidding.” Bertie examined her smoky eyes, pink cheeks, and bright red lips. “I do resemble a rock star, don’t I?”

“Told you. Now, put on lots of mascara. It needs to be, like, super dramatic.”

Bertie squinted at Maddie through the mirror. “Where’d you learn all this? They don’t let fifth graders wear makeup at your boarding school, do they?”

Maddie fluffed her thick hair teased into a poufy ponytail. “No, but sometimes I get to go home with my friend Stephanie for vacations, and we pretend to be rock stars. Her mom has all this makeup and really cool stuff we can wear. She lets us do whatever we want.”

Like drink, smoke, date boys? “What falls under ‘whatever you want’?” Bertie asked in a casual tone as she glopped another layer of mascara onto her lashes.

“Like we get to dress up in her cool clothes and high shoes and even wear her jewelry and then we sing with Rock Band on Stephanie’s Wii. Sometimes her mom records us and we can watch ourselves. It’s so funny.” Maddie added more blush to her already pink cheeks. “Steph’s mom is real nice. Sometimes she lets us bake in her kitchen. But we don’t have to clean up our mess because she has housekeepers for that.”

Housekeeper
s
. Plural. “Sounds nice.” Maddie smoothed the front of a silver, sparkly tank top and fiddled with the knot in the sheer black blouse she’d borrowed from Bertie’s closet as an overlay.

“Yeah, it’s nice. You know, to be around a family, like with a mom and all. I kind of don’t have that.” Maddie’s voice lowered.

I
feel
your
pain, kid
. “I think that outfit needs shoes, don’t you? Let’s see what else I have in my closet.” Bertie squeezed Maddie’s shoulder as they headed for her favorite room in the entire house—her kingdom. A walk-in dressing area that housed her wardrobe.

Bertie had renovated what used to be her parents’ room by combining both their closets into one large space, which gave her room for all her clothes, shoes, and handbags. Like any girly girl who worshipped at the shoe department of Neimans and Saks, shoes and handbags probably took up two thirds of the space, neatly stacked and categorized on open shelves.

“What do you think?” Bertie asked as Maddie touched the heels of a pair of evening shoes. “You want to try those on?” Maddie had zeroed in on the most expensive pair Bertie owned: her coveted Diors with the silver straps, four-inch heels, and sequined bows.

“Sure.” Maddie’s mood lightened in the presence of such fabulous blingage.

Bertie pulled the shoes from their box, giving them to Maddie. “Okay, now what should I wear?”

“Let me. I’ll pick a pair for you.” Maddie scanned the various shelves, lingering over the designer pairs versus the more practical pairs with no names and rubber soles. “Wear these.”

Oh
my
. Again, she selected one of Bertie’s favorites, a pair of high platforms in black suede with red rhinestone heels. Bertie remembered purchasing these in hopes of wearing them to a swanky, cool New Year’s Eve party in downtown Atlanta, where she’d be rubbing elbows with her new acquaintances and maybe rubbing something else with her hot new boyfriend. Well, since that fantasy had hit the skids, she might as well take them out for a spin with a ten-year-old girl. At least Maddie appreciated them.

“Perfect. Let me get dressed, and then it’s time to rock and roll.” She smiled at Maddie as they crossed her bedroom to the queen-size bed where Bertie’s outfit had been tossed. Bertie pulled the lacy red dress over her head and wiggled it over her breasts and hips. When had she planned to wear this little number? Bertie stopped adjusting the dress for a minute to think. Nothing came to mind. It had been that long since she’d been on a real date or out dancing with friends. Two-stepping at the Dog didn’t count. The Downtown Get Down festival was coming up, but she’d be overdressed in red lace and rhinestones. Just a teensy bit.

Maddie finished strapping on Bertie’s sandals and stood up. She wobbled for a second and then settled into the shoes. “Look, they fit.” Sure enough. Maddie’s junior-sized feet almost fit Bertie’s size seven. “I’m taller than you, now.”

“Most people are, honey,” Bertie laughed as she straightened the long, tight lace sleeves on her dress.

“That’s a pretty dress.” Maddie’s heels slapped the bottom of the shoes as she covered the floor to Bertie’s side. “I have a picture of my mom and she’s wearing a red dress too. I don’t remember when though. I only have the picture.”

“It’s nice to have pictures to remember our parents by. You know, my mom died when I was fourteen.” Maddie’s eyes widened.

“You don’t have a mother either?”

Bertie shook her head. “And my dad died several years after that. I only have my brother and a few distant relatives.”

“My mom died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. I have a few pictures though. Dad doesn’t know I have the one with the red dress. I found it in a box in his closet.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you having it.” Bertie didn’t know any such thing, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“I guess. He doesn’t talk about her much. She died in a car crash.” Bertie remembered reading about it online when she’d been snooping. “She was real pretty. She had dark hair like me, but Dad says I look like my Nana Morgan…my grandmother.”

“Then Nana Morgan must be gorgeous because you’re beautiful.”

Maddie’s red painted lips lifted into a faint smile. “Do you remember your mom?”

Bertie curled her hand over the rhinestone earring she’d picked up from her jewelry box, feeling the sharp edges stab her palm. “Yeah, sure. I remember certain things. Like how she always had a snack of cheese and crackers waiting for me after school and how she laughed at our silly jokes and how she used to sit with me at night and listen while I read aloud.” And how she lost all her hair from chemo and smelled of drugs and pain and death. Bertie gave herself a mental shake and looped the earring in her ear. “But you know who’s been like a mother to me all these years?”

Maddie gave her a puzzled look. “No,” she said slowly.

“Aunt Francesca.” Bertie sat on the edge of her soft-gray tufted chaise longue to slip her shoes on. “She helped a lot after my mom died. She even encouraged me to study interior design. You are so lucky to have her.”

“Yeah, I love Aunt Francesca. She visits me at school and takes me out to eat. Sometimes she even lets me invite a friend.” Maddie adjusted the black knit skirt by rolling it up at the waist to keep it from falling down her slim hips. “But I still wish I had a mom. Like my friends do. I wish I could live at home with my mom and dad and do things, like go on vacation or make dinner together or sit around and watch TV, like a normal kid.”

Bertie stood. “You do all those things with your dad, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. But he…” Maddie wobbled in her heels a little as she reached for the bedroom door. “Like, he doesn’t know what to do with me. And he doesn’t like all this girl stuff. I bet he wishes I’d been a boy.”

Probably
. “Hmmm. I don’t know. I think your dad is pretty over-the-top crazy about you. Look at that great room he’s letting you decorate all by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I won’t even get to use it. I have to go back to boarding school.” She made “boarding school” sound like “homeless shelter.” Maddie grabbed the handrail as she click-clacked down the stairs. “And it’s not like my dad spends a ton of time with me,” she said over her shoulder.

Uh-huh. Like tonight.
“You guys went to the beach together, and he’s taken you to lunch and to dinner at the Dog. You liked that, didn’t you?” She and Maddie stood in her living room near the TV and Bertie bent down and gripped the edge of the distressed wood coffee table. “Help me move this out of the way. We need to clear the floor for our dance-a-thon.” Maddie pushed as Bertie pulled. “That’s good.” Bertie straightened.

“It’s just that he’s so, like, overprotective. He never wants to talk about me getting older.”

Poor Keith. Bertie almost felt sorry for him…almost. It had to be hard raising a young girl as a single dad. Bertie should know. Her own dad had sucked at it.

Maddie continued to speak in a frustrated tone. “He won’t even let me get my ears pierced. Everyone at school has pierced ears. I’m like the only one. I’m a freak.” Maddie flopped down on the sofa, looking like a kicked puppy.

Bertie doubted she was the only girl who didn’t have pierced ears. But she remembered that odd, out-of-sorts feeling after her mom had died. “I felt the same way sometimes. And my dad and brother weren’t much help to me either, especially when it came to girl things.”

“So what did you do?”

“Oh, sometimes I talked to my girlfriends.”
Like
Liza, the snake.
“And sometimes I’d hide in my favorite spot. My mom kept a room above the Dog where Cal and I could go and do our homework or sit and read. She made us floor pillows and painted the walls a bright yellow. I used to sit in the window seat and think when something troubled me.”

“Do you still go up there?”

Bertie chuckled. “Not lately. But most of the time, I used to talk to your aunt. Still do. She’s a real good listener.”

“Yeah, but she’s kind of, you know, old. She’s like my grandmother. And that’s another thing. I never get to see my grandparents. Nana lives in Italy, and she’s never around, and my other grandparents live in Miami, but they don’t get along too well with my dad.”

Hard
to
believe
. “You know what? I think you should sit your dad down this week and tell him how you feel. And I bet he’ll listen and really try to make things better.” Maddie’s dark eyes clouded with confusion. Bertie eased next to her on the sofa. “Your dad loves you more than anything in this whole world. He may be overprotective, but that’s what parents do. That’s their job.” She patted Maddie’s knee. “What else would you like to do with your dad this week? What other activity?”

“I want to play tennis. But he doesn’t ever seem to want to.” Maddie played with the stack of shiny bangles on her wrists.

How
odd
. “Well, he’s been working too hard on the house. How about this? I’ll give him a couple days off so you guys can play some tennis and have some fun.”

“You can do that?”

“Sure. Your dad doesn’t know this, but technically he works for me.” Bertie could picture Keith blasting her with his supercilious expression.

“That’s funny. You can boss him around?” Maddie asked, warming to the topic.

That might be stretching the truth like a giant rubber band. “Yeah, I can tell him that he’s in the way and I need him out of the house.”

“Do that! Tell my dad he’s fired.” Maddie started to laugh.

Okeydoke
. More likely the other way around, but at least it made Maddie laugh.

Bertie pulled Maddie up from the sofa. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s dance. I need to learn some new moves.”

***

Keith released a breath. Relieved, he pulled out of the parking lot at Gail’s apartment complex. His car clocked glowed 10:15. The last time he’d been on a date that had ended so early had been in high school. This particular date fell under the uneventful category, just the way he wanted it.
Right
.

The evening had started out fine and stayed that way. Perfectly fine. No hearts stopped beating. No embarrassing scenes. No marriage proposals…yet. A simple night out, sharing dinner and drinks with some friends. With the exception of Liza parking her cute butt in the chair next to him and shooting daggers in his direction, the night stayed right on track. Only a few hiccups where Keith could tell Gail felt a little uncomfortable. Like when a couple of pro football players had stopped by the table to speak with Nick and flirted with Liza, Marabelle, and Gail. Gail’s back stiffened in her seat. No words or smart comebacks, like Liza or even little Marabelle. Especially Marabelle. Nick had assumed a relaxed pose with his arms folded across his chest, enjoying the exchange. Gail appeared as if she’d rather be castrating farm animals than bantering with a couple of crude football jocks.

Keith reconnected with Gail when he suggested that they grab a coffee at Starbucks, just the two of them. The Frasiers had already shoved off after dinner, which left Liza, who had settled in for the evening, not budging from her seat. She’d blown off her girlfriend earlier, whispering to Keith that watching him squirm was way more entertaining.

When Gail excused herself to use the restroom, Keith told Liza to beat it and made her swear she wouldn’t run through Harmony yelling at the top of her lungs about tonight. Liza gave him the classic too-stupid-to-live glare, shaking her head. She gathered her stylish tan leather Prada handbag and then stabbed her pointy index finger at his chest, poking holes. She accused him of being a fucking moron. And yes, she’d said “fucking”…more than once.

After Liza cut out, Keith finished paying the bill. Damn. He missed his life in Miami. He missed his carefree, lazy days and hot, sexy nights. He hadn’t had sex in at least five fucking long months. He’d give anything to toss his racket in the air and break his abstinence without the noose of marriage around his neck. Francesca’s ultimatum strangled him. Shit. He’d better be making the right decision.

Later that night at Starbucks, he and Gail chatted over coffee and dessert and the weight on his shoulders eased. Gail relaxed and even undid the top two buttons of her sweater. At her apartment door, Keith smiled into her clear, cornflower-blue eyes. He palmed her cheek and brushed her lips with a kiss. She didn’t jump or slap his face, but she didn’t participate much either. As kisses went, it was chaste. G-rated. Not even a hint of tongue. Two pairs of lips pressed together for a nanosecond. And Keith felt absolutely nothing. Just the way he wanted.