Raspberry Crush (12 page)

He grinned and started walking toward her. Billy's mouth ran dry, and her tongue felt like thick cotton with each step he took. She didn't even register the weight of the tray in her hand, or the ache in her arm from holding it up for so long. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so inexplicably... nervous... so filled with anticipation that was undefined.

Out of sheer instinct, then, she turned away—and smacked right into someone else. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she yelped, startled, and relieved she hadn't tipped over the drinks on her tray.

"Quite all right, madam." She instantly recognized the man she'd collided with. His slicked hair and flaming neckerchief kind of gave him away. It was one of the men who'd been arguing on the beach. Up close, she took note of his pronounced widow's peak, olive-green blazer, and tan linen pants. If he recognized her, he didn't show it. Nodding briefly, he offered a fleeting smile. "Please do excuse me," he said in a quasi-English accent, then called into the crowd, "Leslie, you look stunning! And Harlan, my good man!" Certainly a far cry from his irate behavior on the beach earlier.

"Excuse me."

Billy turned. There was a tall man with a gray beard and a long black coat standing beside her. Wait a minute... talk about eerie! It was the
other
man who'd been arguing on the beach. It was like a bizarre little reunion, but luckily neither of the men seemed to recognize her. Instinctively, Billy whipped her head around to look for the one in the neckerchief, but he had disappeared into the crowd. "Excuse me," the bearded man repeated, louder this time and with a surlier edge.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Billy managed. "Do you need something?"

"Do those have nuts in them?" he asked, motioning to the platter of chocolate-chip cookie bars on the table behind her.

"No, I don't think so...."

"Because I'm allergic to nuts," he said loudly. "Can't have nuts." Just then Billy noticed that he was holding a beer can. With his free hand he reached for a drink off her tray; she didn't have the heart to tell him the cocktail had no alcohol in it. He seemed kind of half-in-the-bag already. Appearing haggard, half the man's face was shadowed by an unkempt beard, and the other half was dominated by dark, drawn eyes. Before Billy could say anything else, he brushed past her, set his empty can on the table, and snagged a cookie bar. Billy observed him walking off, swaying a little, and she wondered how many beers he'd had before he got there.

Just then someone tapped her shoulder. It was a fleeting but gentle touch. Instinctively she knew who it was, and with her heart in her throat, she turned around.

"Hi," Seth said, smiling down at her.

"Hello," she said, as a crazy image popped into her head: jumping up, wrapping her legs around Seth's waist, and covering his mouth with hers. And, besides the fact that he'd probably slip a disk, the idea was extremely tempting.

Finally Billy started to feel a dull ache in her arms from holding her tray up too long.

"Do you need some help?" Seth asked, as if sensing her discomfort, and took the tray from her. He set it down on a nearby table.

"Oh, thanks..." she said stupidly. Yeah, she supposed
she
could've thought of that... if her mind weren't too booked up with other ideas—with silly, futile thoughts. "So... I'm glad you could make it," she said, smiling.

"Me, too."

Chewing her lip, Billy willed her heart to slow down, but it continued thudding hard in her chest.
It's only Seth,
she told herself, but it didn't do much good. "How's it coming with your mom's house?" she asked.

"Let's see... I've fixed the railing on the deck and the latch on the fence. Next I'm repainting the gazebo in the backyard. My mom called yesterday and said she can't decide if she wants it to be cream-colored or beige. Personally, I thought they were the same thing."

Grinning, Billy said, "And here I thought the big cosmetic decisions happened
after
the house was sold."

"Well, apparently white and winter-white 'clash' and I had no idea," he added glibly. "My mom might've been better off with girls." Then he gave a glance down Billy's body. "I like your uniform."

"Yeah, right." Billy laughed, rolling her eyes.

"No, I mean it. You look cute."

Blushing, she joked, "Please, I look like a waiter." Then she held up her hand. "Don't say it; I know—I
am
a waiter."

He laughed, and it was a warm, familiar sound that inexplicably relaxed her.

"Oh, Seth,
there
you are!"

Billy turned to see a well-dressed older woman hurrying toward them, dragging along with her a tall, skinny woman in a purple warm-up suit. The older woman looked vaguely familiar, but Billy couldn't place her. The younger one appeared to be in her early twenties; she had angular features, and moved with a lanky kind of clumsiness that probably came with being six-four.

"Hi, Sally," Seth said—Sally, that was it! Billy had met her once at Seth's house—then smiled pleasantly at the tall girl. "Hey, Pam. Are you two enjoying the party?"

Sally replied, "It's wonderful! Of course, I can't eat all these sweets like I used to. I'm just not lucky enough to have
Pam's
knockout figure and dynamite metabolism."

"Uh-huh," Seth managed. "By the way, Sally, this is Billy. I'm not sure if you two met a few years ago."

"Yes, we did, briefly," Billy said with a short wave. "Hi, it's nice to see you again."

"Oh, hello..." Sally replied, a little flustered; either she didn't remember, or she wasn't prepared to be diverted from her obvious matchmaking designs.

Meanwhile, Billy couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Seth going out with another woman—redwood-esque or otherwise. Sighing softly, she started chewing on her bottom lip again.

"How do you know Seth?" Sally asked her.

When Billy hesitated, Seth piped in, "We're friends." Somehow the words cut through Billy's heart, which wasn't logical because she and Seth
were
friends now, and a week ago they hadn't even been that.

"Sally!"

They all turned and saw the man with the neckerchief coming toward them, with a man and a woman alongside him. Jeez, could this be a more annoyingly small world?

"Oh, hello, Greg," Sally said, smiling, and made the introductions. The man with the neckerchief was Greg Dappaport, owner of the Churchill Art Gallery, and the couple with him were mutual friends, Marion and Frederick Thames.

"You look familiar," Greg said, squinting a little while he studied Billy's face. "Have we met before?"

Hmm... she wasn't sure if he was referring to the time he had spotted her eavesdropping on the beach, or the time she'd bumped into him like a total klutz—which was only about fifteen minutes ago, so she supposed she hadn't made much of an impression on him. Either way, neither exploit was particularly flattering. "No, I don't think so," she said, smiling politely.

While everyone exchanged small talk about the jubilee and about other residents of the town, Billy felt uncomfortably like a seventh wheel. But she didn't want to walk away from Seth—not after she'd waited all night to see him, to talk to him. "Oh, Seth!" Sally said suddenly. "Look over there! That's the man I was telling you about."

Billy, Greg, and the Thameses turned to see the bearded man swaying his way through a cluster of people. "What man?" Seth said.

"You know, that new fisherman in town, Ted Schneider. The rude one I told you about."

"Oh, right," Seth said, nodding but not exactly sounding bowled over with interest.

"Don't even get me started on Ted Schneider," Greg Dappaport said, grimacing. The Thameses shook their heads, presumably in agreement.

"He came up to me before," Billy remarked, trying to add to the conversation. "Apparently he's allergic to nuts, because he was asking me about some of the food."

Greg Dappaport chortled and nudged Frederick Thames lightly in the ribs. "Now
that
might be an effective way to eliminate our interloper. Slip him some pecan pie, and assuming he doesn't get most of it in his beard..."

"Oh, Greg, you're terrible," Marion chided.

He chortled again and then shook his head in self-reproach. "You're right, terribly macabre of me. But tell me: is it all right if I transfer my murderous thoughts to his hideous excuse for a sailing vessel?"

After a few more minutes of chitchat about the apparent town outcast, Greg Dappaport and the Thameses left, and it was just Sally, Seth, Billy, and Pam again. Sally turned to Pam. "So what kind of day did you have, dear? Did you have to save a lot of lives?"

Pam shrugged. "A couple, I guess."

"Wow, what do you do?" Billy asked, impressed and even more jealous, damn it.

"EMT," Pam replied, at the same time Sally said, "Doctor." Rather than debating the point, though, Pam brusquely excused herself to go to "the head."

"I know she hasn't been overly talkative," Sally said after Pam left, "but once you get her going, oh my, she will blow your mind with intellectual discussions."

"Sounds fun," Seth said dryly, and turned to Billy, who was now being summoned by Des.

"Shoot," she said, nodding at Des, "I've got to get back to work."

"Oh, okay," Seth said, sounding disappointed. "Well, I hope I'll see you later."

Billy hoped so, too. That was the problem.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Sorry to pull you away," Des said, flipping his head to get some shaggy locks out of his eyes, "but I can't find Katie. Have you seen her?"

"No, but I haven't been paying much attention."
Too busy obsessing over Seth.
"She must be around here somewhere."

"I found her charm bracelet on the ground; she must've dropped it," Des said, and held it up. Billy recognized the small but clunky silver chain, and took it from him.

"Oh, I see Mrs. Tailor over there," Billy said, spotting Katie's grandmother in the distance. "I'll give it to her to give to Katie."

Billy approached Mrs. Tailor at the same time the infamous Ted Schneider did. Just as Billy was about to mention the charm bracelet, Ted drunkenly grabbed a cocktail off Mrs. Tailor's tray and asked her about nuts. "Do the brownies have nuts in them?" he asked, slurring his words.

"Uh..." Mrs. Tailor looked to Billy a little haplessly, then turned back to Ted. "I don't think so, sir, but—"

" 'Cause I can't have no nuts," he barked. "I'm allergic. You should have a goddamn sign or something, telling what the hell has nuts." With that, he took a quick swallow of his cocktail, so quick it showered both sides of his beard with pink liquid. He didn't seem to notice. "How the hell am I supposed to know what I can eat and what's going to goddamn
kill
me?"

Poor Mrs. Tailor; she was a little old lady, and a big drunk sailor was lashing out at her. Nobody needed it. "You know what?" Billy piped in. "Why don't you come to the kitchen and talk to our baker? She can tell you everything that has nuts in it."

"Oh, that's a good idea!" Mrs. Tailor agreed. "Come with me. I'll introduce you to our baker and she can answer all your questions." Billy decided to go, too, feeling protective of Katie's grandmother, and afraid that if this big slobbering guy tipped over too far, he would absolutely crush her. Hopefully he would sober up soon. Anyway, it was nearly time for Billy to take her sheet cakes out of the refrigerator so they could warm to almost room temperature.

They all headed across the street to Marie's Cafe, where Georgette was working busily in the kitchen. "Georgette," Mrs. Tailor said delicately, obviously not wanting to interrupt.

"Yeah, what?" Georgette said, sounding gruff and impatient.

"Uh, this gentleman has some concerns about a nut allergy...." Georgette angled her head back to look at him, then quickly turned back to her ovens as Ted asked her what items on the buffet tables had nuts. While Billy gingerly pulled her sheet cakes from the fridge, she overheard Ted saying that he couldn't have even a trace of nuts or it would trigger a dangerous allergic reaction. Well, he said this using his own slurred and brash style of conversation, which was fine, because social niceties were usually wasted on Georgette.

After Georgette told Ted what items, specifically, contained nuts or peanut oil, she continued her work, implicitly dismissing him. Most of the exchange was a dismissal, really, since Georgette had barely spared him a glance. Again, Ted didn't seem to notice. He muttered a cursory thanks and headed back to the town square.

Billy had hoped to see Seth again that night, and she got her wish about an hour later. But first she had to wheel out the sheet cakes, and she could've used some help, but Melissa had left early with a bad headache, and Des was busy with other tasks.

"Mrs. Tailor, have you seen Georgette? She wasn't in the kitchen."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I haven't," she replied as she consolidated some scattered pastries onto one tray.

Damn—two people could push the carts out together and present the cakes in the panoramic style Billy had intended. She couldn't do it herself, but she didn't want Mrs. Tailor to strain herself, and Georgette was currently MIA. Luckily, Katie was coming by at that moment, carrying an empty tray with her. Billy had forgotten all about her charm bracelet! After she gave it back to her, Katie helped her wheel out the cakes.

The reaction was more than Billy could've hoped for. The crowd went on about them, some reactions even touched with awe, filling Billy up with an indescribable sense of pride and accomplishment.

"I'd recognize that artwork anywhere," a voice said. When she turned around, she found Seth standing behind her. "Billy, those cakes are unbelievable. It really looks like a painting; I can't even believe it." As he shook his head, wonder crossed his face. "You're amazing."

"Thanks," Billy said, blushing hotly—overwhelmed by the compliments, the rush of creating something, and by Seth's just being there.

Suddenly someone bumped into her from behind and pitched her forward, right into Seth. "Sorry," a female voice called in the distance, as Billy stumbled. She would've fallen over completely if it hadn't been for Seth lurching out to catch her, cupping her arms with strong but gentle hands.