The Big 5-Oh! (14 page)

“You’re expecting the unexpected?” he inquired, and then he shook his dark mane vigorously. “I don’t understand.”

“Something's going to happen,” Prudence declared. “And I want to be ready when it does.”

“Well, that's just absurd,” said the beautiful horse. “Expecting the unexpected makes the unexpected expected. So it's not unexpected anymore.”

Prudence jiggled her head from side to side as she tried to figure that one out. “Is that a riddle?” she asked.

“I think you’re the riddle, my donkey friend.”

O
nce it had cooled, Liv sliced the nine-by-twelve-inch pan of pumpkin cake into squares and transferred them to a large plastic plate she had found on the top shelf in the pantry.

“Low in fat, low in sugar, high in taste.” That was the way Hallie had always described her special pumpkin cake recipe. When Liv looked for something to bake and take over to Clayton's house beneath a waving white flag and a sincere apology, it seemed like the perfect choice. If he slammed the door in her face and the offering made a round trip back home, at least she wouldn’t gain too much weight when she ate the whole thing by herself.

This must be what it's like to mosey
, she thought, realizing that she was meandering across the street, plate and proverbial hat in hand, at a snail's pace.

“Lord, I know it's been a while since I’ve prayed, but … please don’t let him injure me in any way. You know how fragile I am, and I really think the old man could take me.”

Climbing the couple of stairs to the front door was like scaling a mountain, and she raised her hand to knock at the door. Before she could lay knuckles to wood though, the door flew open and Clayton stared her down.

“Whadya want?”

“Mr. Clydesdale, I want to apologize.”

“What for?”

He wasn’t going to make it easy.

“For everything,” she replied. “For the misunderstanding about the pool—”

“Misunderstanding,” he coughed. “You not wantin’ me there is pretty clear, young lady. No misunderstanding there.”

“And about the … your … about Morey.”

His face fell so fast at just the mention of his cat's name that it made Liv want to cry.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He didn’t say anything for what seemed like an hour; he just glared down at his feet as if they’d done him some terrible injustice. “That all?” he asked, finally.

“Well, I made you some pumpkin cake,” she told him, holding the plate out before her, feeling as though she needed to prove it to him. “I thought maybe we could have a cup of coffee and share a piece.”

The old man glanced up at her, one eyebrow much higher than the other, his mouth pursed far off to one side.

“Can I come in?”

Clayton seemed to be thinking it over, and then suddenly, he yanked open the door and left it hanging there while he wandered off toward the kitchen.

“Don’t have any milk. You’ll have to drink it black.”

Liv stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “That’ll be fine,” she said as she hurried into the kitchen after him. “Maybe just some sugar?”

“Got no sugar neither.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, black is good. Nothing wrong with a nice, strong cup of black coffee.”

A few seconds later, Clayton set down two steaming mugs, both of which bore the Tampa Bay Buccaneers logo, and one of which had a chip missing on the rim. Hers, of course.

He plunked two plastic Bucs plates down on the table and helped himself to the cake, leaving Liv to fend for herself.

“I wanted to explain to you about the pool,” she said.

“No need. Doc Hunt told me all about it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I’ll be swimmin’ laps in his pool until Josie comes home.”

“Well. All right.”

He softened, but only slightly, his fork in midair as he said, “You’re on vacation, and you don’t need to be startled first thing in the morning by me.”

“Well—”

He crammed the fork into his mouth and shook his head.

“Josie's been gone a long time now.”

It hadn’t been such a long time. Liv realized that Clayton must really like Josie.

“She’ll be home soon.”

“Good cake.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad you like it. It's Hallie's recipe.”

“How is Halleluiah? She ain’t been down here in a gap o’ time. Guess she's pretty busy with all them kids.”

“I don’t know how she does it. She's a pro at keeping up with all they have going.”

“Nice girl, Hallie. You tell her I like her cake.”

“I will.”

Liv grinned and took a bite of it herself, and then held her breath as she washed it down with a sip of the thickest, blackest coffee she’d ever tasted. She had visions of it eating through the lining of her stomach upon arrival.

“Also,” she began, and then wished for a second that she hadn’t, “I wanted to explain about the other day. With Morey.”

“No need. Doc Hunt explained that too.”

“He did?”

“Yup. Said you wouldn’t be havin’ a meal with me neither. But here you are with cake.”

“A meal?”

“I mighta said I was thinkin’ about that. Maybe havin’ a lunch or a supper with ya.”

“Oh.”

“The doc nipped that idea in the bud.”

“He did?”

“Says you’re not interested in lunchin’ or nothin’ else with me. Seems like maybe he's the one wantin’ to take you to supper.”

“Well,” Liv began, and then she sighed and gave her temple a swift rub with the back of her hand. “Clayton. I just wanted you to know … I just wanted to say to you … that I didn’t realize Morey had … passed away.”

“Yup. You figured that mangy dog o’ Josie's killed him.”

“Well, yes. That's what I thought.”

“And you figured I’d get over that as long as you cleaned him up real nice.”

The way he was looking at her caused Liv to spontaneously burst with laughter. “It seems kind of strange now that I hear you say it.”

Clayton plucked another square of cake from the plastic plate and dropped it to his own.

“Anyway, I’m just so sorry, Clayton. I really am. About everything.”

“I believe you,” he snapped. “That's enough apologizin’.”

“Okay.”

“You wanna go out for supper?”

Liv grinned. The old guy was nothing if not persistent.

“No, thank you, Clayton. But I appreciate the thought.”

“Whatever. Your loss. I still got moves, you know.”

“I can see that.”

The silence that followed was broken with the soft clank of fork to plate, the slurping of coffee, and then the thump of Clayton's cup back to the wooden table. Liv searched her mind for something, anything, to stir up some conversation.

“You sure do seem to like the Buccaneers,” she said. “That's a football team, right?”

Clayton lifted one eyebrow and then peeled an odd smile across his face. “Tampa Bay Buccaneers, woman. 2003 Super Bowl champions. Raymond James Stadium, the
Crown Jewel of the NFL
. Ring any bells?”

“Sorry.”

Clayton groaned as he downed the rest of the coffee from his team's cup.

“I’ve never been much into sports. Except for figure skating.”

“Figure skating!” he exclaimed, and then he clamped his eyes shut and shook his head. “That ain’t a sport, girl.”

“It is,” she insisted.

“Nope, not a sport, with all that twirlin’ and leapin’.”

“But there's a beauty to the twirling and leaping, Clayton. It's art on ice.”

“Hockey. That's art on ice.”

Liv chuckled. Clayton smacked the table so hard that she jumped, and then they both laughed.

“Does Tampa have a hockey team too?”

And there went that silver eyebrow again, straight up into an arch over his narrowed gray eye.

“Tampa Bay Lightning?” he clucked.

“Also a jewel of some kind?”

“Not lately, no.”

“So what's this I hear about our Randall getting serious with someone?”

Jared looked up from his desk and peered at Georgia over the rim of his glasses.

“He had a date scheduled with Edna Stanton's granddaughter for this weekend, and he called her and canceled, saying that he’d met someone and it was getting serious.”

Serious.
Now there was a word Jared couldn’t quite wrap his brain around when used in association with his son's love life. “Really.”

Georgia slipped down into one of the chairs flanking his desk and tapped her pointy pink fingernails. “And Lila and Joe spotted him at the mall in Fort Myers with a young, petite blonde. Do you know the girl?”

“He's been spending some time with a blonde named Shelby,” Jared speculated, and then he rolled his pen across the stack of paperwork before him. “But he hasn’t mentioned that they’re
serious
.”

“It's about time for Rand, wouldn’t you say?” Georgia inquired with a just-spotted-the-canary grin.

“He's leaving to go back to London in another couple of weeks.”

“Maybe Shelby's going with him.”

Jared thought that over and then shook his head. “They just met.”

“Stranger things have happened, you know.”

Liv floated across his mind, and Jared smiled.
Stranger than meeting someone and knowing them for twenty minutes and then calling it serious?
“You’re right,” he conceded. “You just never know, do you?”

“Well, keep me posted on the love affair, will you?”

Jared's neck jerked a little as he looked up at her. “What?”

“Rand and this Shelby person,” she explained. “I’ll want to know when to start shopping for a dress for the wedding.”

“Oh.”

Of course. Rand and Shelby.
That
love affair
.
Not the one with Liv.

Not that it was an actual love affair. But Jared wondered, if not, what then? Like Rand, Liv would be packing her bags
and leaving Sanibel soon. Would he and Shelby cry in their tea together, lamenting over lost loves and missed opportunities?

Georgia headed out to reception, and Jared leaned back in his chair. Pushing his glasses up to his forehead, he rubbed his burning eyes and speculated about Liv's departure. What would life be like for him after she returned to Ohio? For someone who’d occupied a spot in his world for such a short time, the thought of her going away certainly had sketched out a dismal portrait of the future.

Jared turned over the page on his desk calendar and counted down the days until Liv left on the thirtieth. For a moment, his thoughts stretched about inside his brain, like a beam of white light searching open waters from the top of a lighthouse, pursuing some possible scenario where he and Liv weren’t forced to say good-bye. But Jared knew the situation was stacked firmly against them. They didn’t know each other well enough to wager something more permanent. Yet their feelings had developed at an unexpected rate.

At least he was fairly certain it was
their feelings
in the mix. He’d hate to think he was the only one with this stirring inside of him.

“Guess who's here,” Georgia whispered as she poked her head around the doorway. “Speak of the monkey himself.”

Before Jared could respond, Rand rounded the corner and plopped down in one of the chairs across from him.

“What's up, son?”

“I was thinking it seems like good weather for a sunset cruise.”

“I’m guessing you’re not inviting me to join you.”

“Hah!” Rand spouted. “No. I was hoping you’d let me borrow the boat.”

“Will you be cruising alone then?”

“No,” he replied. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be with Shelby.”

“The two of you are spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah.”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Anything about Shelby?”

“Well, she's cool,” Rand replied with a shrug, and then Jared noticed a smile quivering at the corner of his mouth. “What else do you want to know? She can’t hold her sugar; she gets a head rush if she eats something sweet. And the girl cannot sing a single note in key.”

“But?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “But. She's pretty great.”

“I’m glad you’ve met someone who can make you happy, son. But I hope you’re taking it easy.”

“What do you mean?”