The Girls of Mischief Bay Page 7

  Hayley grinned. “I will.”

  John winked at Pam, took a couple of cookies from the plate and headed for the garage. Lulu, sensing the possibility of a snack, followed her dad.

  “John is about the nicest man I know,” Hayley said when the door had closed. “Everybody at work loves him.”

  “I was lucky to find him,” Pam said, knowing that nice was more important than exciting and after thirty years anyone—even George Clooney—could seem less thrilling. It was simply how life worked.

  Hayley mentioned something about the hotel project the company was working on. Pam mostly listened. The light had shifted and she noticed a subtle glow to her friend’s skin.

  Hayley was what? Thirty? Thirty-one. She had a firm jaw and no wrinkles at all. Her hands and arms were so smooth. Pam drew in a breath as she realized that except for John, she was nearly always the oldest person in the room. And while she should probably be happy that so many young people wanted to hang out with her, she would rather it was because she was young, too.

  She mentally gave herself a firm shake. She had to stop thinking about herself all the time. She was becoming obsessed and tedious.

  She tuned back in to Hayley’s conversation and laughed over a comment about a client.

  “I should head home,” Hayley said, coming to her feet. “Thanks for the tea and the company.”

  “When does Rob come back?” One of Rob’s two jobs involved business travel.

  “In a few days.”

  “If you need anything or get scared, just grab your pillow and come over,” Pam told her. “You’re always welcome. We have that guest room sitting empty.”

  Hayley nodded, then hugged her. “Thanks. It helps to know you’re right across the street.”

  “And down two houses. You go across the street, you’ll find yourself at the Logans’ and they have those really mean cats.”

  Hayley laughed. “Good point.”

  Pam walked her out. When she turned to go back to the kitchen, she saw John and Lulu walking toward her.

  “Everything okay with her?” he asked.

  “So far.” She drew in a breath. “I don’t want to send a message to the universe or anything, but I have a bad feeling about this. Why can’t the doctors figure out the problem? And when are they going to tell her that all these miscarriages are a bad idea?”

  She’d bled a lot with the last one and Pam had ended up insisting she go to emergency.

  John put his arm around her. “She really wants a baby.”

  “And I want her to have one. Just not like this.”

  Her husband squeezed, then released her. “Jen texted me. She and Kirk are coming over an hour early. They want to talk.”

  Pam pressed her lips together. “Why didn’t she text me?”

  “Probably because she knew you would ask questions.”

  “Didn’t you? Is something wrong?” A thousand possibilities, all of them horrible, flashed through her mind. “You don’t think one of them is sick, do you? Or maybe Kirk shot someone and is going to be indicted for murder.” She pressed a hand to her chest as her breathing hitched. “Oh, God. What if they’re getting a divorce?”

  Her husband chuckled. “I have to admire your ability to see disaster in every situation. You think they’d tell us that together, before Sunday dinner?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then maybe stay calm until we hear what it’s about. For all we know, they want to move in with us to save money.”

  Pam rolled her eyes. “Don’t even joke about that.” Her mind stopped swirling with disastrous possibilities and she tried to think of good ones. “I wonder if they’re getting that puppy they’ve been talking about. Jen called me last week to ask about how long it took to house-train Lulu. A puppy would be nice.”

  “I’m sure they’re getting a puppy.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a great idea. They both work, so they’re gone all day.”

  John kissed the top of her head. “You are the queen of finding the cloud in every silver lining.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Point taken. I’m going to get the roast ready.”

  “Need any help?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She returned to the kitchen, Lulu walking beside her. The dog curled up in her kitchen bed while Pam set the roast on the counter. She would let it warm up for about an hour before popping it in the oven. In the meantime she could peel the four hundred pounds of potatoes they would be eating tonight. Unlike a lot of their friends, she and John saw their grown kids a lot. They’d stayed close geographically and seemed to like hanging out with their parents.

  So far they’d been blessed with their children. Jen, their oldest, had been sweet and funny. Steven had been a typical boy—always getting into trouble. But he had a good heart and lots of friends. Brandon, their youngest, had been more difficult. He’d been moody and attracted to trouble. High school had been hell. He’d skipped class, hung out with horrible kids and discovered he liked to party. The summer he turned seventeen, he’d wrapped his car around a tree.

  Angels had been with him, Pam thought, as she peeled her potatoes. The crash should have killed him, yet he’d walked away with nothing more than some bruises and a broken arm.

  She and John hadn’t known what to do, so they’d erred on the side of tough love. They’d sent him to rehab for six weeks. Not one of those touchy-feely kinds with meetings where you shared and did crafts, but one with a boot-camp philosophy and lots of lectures from people in recovery. Brandon had quickly realized he was far from the biggest, baddest dog in the pack. He’d come home older, wiser and, most important, sober.

  He’d completed his senior year with a 4.0 GPA and had made what had seemed like the impossible decision to be a doctor. But he’d stuck with it and was now in his second year of medical school.

  “My son, the doctor,” Pam murmured.

  They were all in a good place right now. She would be grateful and not borrow trouble. Although she did think that Jen and Kirk might not be ready for a puppy.

  Five

  Pam sat next to John on one sofa while Jen and Kirk sat on the other. Her daughter, a pretty brunette, smiled broadly.

  It didn’t seem like there was anything wrong. They both looked happy. Kirk was relaxed, which he probably wouldn’t be if he’d shot someone in the line of duty and was going to prison. Plus, they would have seen it on the news.

  Pam glanced at the clock. It was barely two—probably too early to make herself a Cosmo. Although she would like to point out that it was already five in New York and probably tomorrow in Australia.

  She reached for John’s hand. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

  “All right, you two,” he said. “You’ve kept us in suspense long enough. What’s going on? Is it a puppy?”

  They were moving, Pam thought, looking at their faces. Kirk had gotten promoted or something. No, that wouldn’t work. He was on the Mischief Bay police force. It wasn’t as if they were going to relocate him to San Francisco.

  Jen glanced again at Kirk, then turned back to her parents. She drew in a breath and laughed.

  “No puppy. We’re pregnant!”

  Pam felt her mouth drop open.

  “What?” John stood and crossed to them. “Pregnant? How far along? Did you plan this? Pregnant!” He pulled his daughter into his arms. “My baby’s going to be a mommy. That’s great, honey. We’re so happy for you.”

/>   Pam felt the room shift a little. As if one side of the house had suddenly dropped a couple of feet. She managed to stand and felt her face moving, so guessed she’d smiled. Kirk walked up to her and she hugged him because it was the obvious thing to do.

  Jen pregnant. There was going to be a baby. She loved babies. Adored them. She couldn’t be happier for her daughter and son-in-law. There was only one unbelievable catch.

  She was going to be a grandmother.

  * * *

  The Farm Table was an upscale, organic, locally sourced restaurant. The kind of place completely at home in the beachy, LA-vibe quirkiness that was Mischief Bay. Everything in the restaurant was either sustainable or repurposed. The floors were bamboo, the tables and chairs rarely matched and the dishes were all old Lenox, Spode and Wedgwood patterns. But the odds of any one table getting two place settings that were the same were slim.

  Eclectic didn’t begin to describe the decor. A combination of elegant, shabby chic and country, with a rabid interest in recycling to the point that the restaurant kept a pig and two goats to eat any food leftovers that couldn’t be given to a local organization that specialized in feeding the homeless. The food was extraordinary.

  There was generally at least a three-week wait to get a reservation. Which meant getting a call from Adam inviting her to dinner was only half as shocking as hearing his suggestion as to where they would go. The man obviously had some pull, she thought as she stopped in front of the valet and handed over her keys.

  She tucked her clutch under her arm, walked into the restaurant and glanced around. Adam was already there, standing in the foyer. He smiled when he saw her—a warm, welcoming smile that made her feel just a little bit giddy.

  She was willing to admit she had been more than a little pleased to hear from him. She hadn’t thought she would. Now, as she moved toward him, she saw his gaze drop to take in what she was wearing. The sudden widening of his eyes added to her sense of anticipation.

  She’d put a lot more thought into what she would wear on this date, as opposed to the last one. Despite the fact that it was late February, this was still Southern California and evening temperatures weren’t going to dip below fifty-eight. She’d been able to wear her favorite outfit and bring a pashmina as a wrap.

  The dress was one of her rare clothing splurges. An Oscar de la Renta silk cloqué cocktail dress. The fabric—a textured silk—was simply tailored. A scooped-neck tank style, front and back, fitted to the waist, then flaring out. She’d left her red hair loose and wavy, and added diamond studs for her only jewelry. She’d left her legs bare, with only a hint of a shimmery lotion to add a glow, then finished off the outfit with a classic pair of black pumps.

  Honestly, she’d been hoping for some kind of a reaction and Adam didn’t disappoint. He crossed to her and took both her hands in his.

  “I know this is going to get old, but wow.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. You’re looking very handsome yourself.”

  Dress at The Farm Table was generally nice to fancy. Adam wore a suit and tie. Men had it easy, she thought. Give them some decent tailoring and they look great.

  He excused himself and gave his name to the hostess, then returned to her side.

  “It’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” She stared into his dark eyes. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

  His brows drew together. “Why?”

  “I didn’t think our first date went very well.”

  Genuine confusion tugged at his mouth. “Seriously? I thought it was good. We were getting to know each other. If you thought it went badly, why did you say yes to dinner?”

  She touched his arm. “I meant I thought I wouldn’t hear from you because I got called back to work. I’m not saying it happens all the time, but when it does, I have to take care of the problem.”

  There it was—her career out there. So far she liked Adam. He made her hope in a way she hadn’t for a long time. But she wasn’t going to pretend to be other than who she was for anyone and she wanted to make sure he got that.

  He relaxed. “Oh, that. It’s okay. You have a job with demands. I do, too. Would you have a problem if I had to cancel because of a crisis at the job site?”

  “No.”

  “So we both get that we have responsibilities.”

  As easy as that? “It’s my turn to say wow.”

  He chuckled. “If that impresses you, then I’m doing a whole lot better than I thought. Makes me glad I called in all those favors to get the reservation here.”

  “I am impressed by you and the venue. So it’s a win-win.”

  “I like that in a date.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth for just a second longer than was polite.

  Shannon knew it was silly to let the man’s obvious attraction win her over. She had to be feeling it, too. But she had to admit it was pretty nice to be wanted.

  A voice in her head pointed out that Quinn also wanted her. Only it was on his terms, his way, on his schedule. Theirs wasn’t a relationship. It was some kind of twisted addiction. Adam just might be the right antidote.

  The hostess led them to a small table by a window. They were tucked into a private alcove, a little bit away from the other diners.

  “Have you dined here before?” she asked.

  They both said they had.

  “Then you know how our menu works. The chef has some very special dishes in store for you. Enjoy.”

  The Farm Table’s menu was information, not a choice. The items changed every week and there were a few vegetarian options for main courses. Otherwise, you ate what was put in front of you. They were taking a stand and Shannon could respect that.

  She glanced at the five-course menu and was grateful she hadn’t put on Spanx. At least she would have some extra room for all the yummy food.

  Adam picked up his menu. “What’s a squash blossom and how do you put salmon in it?”

  “It’s a plant.”

  “You’re guessing.”

  “No, I’m sure it’s a plant-based thing that has an opening or can be stuffed or something.”

  He looked at her, his brows raised.

  She sighed. “Fine. I have no idea what it is. I’m sure it’s delicious. Do you know what sorrel tastes like? We have sorrel sauce in our third course.”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Then I guess we’ll find out together.”

  He nodded and put down his menu. “Want to go with the wine suggestions?”

  “Sure.”

  “Me, too.” He leaned toward her. “I really was okay about the job thing.”

  “I get that now.”

  “I didn’t call right away because I was away on business. The guy who’s building the hotel insisted I fly to Denver to meet with him personally. He doesn’t like email updates.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was flaky. Or not interested.” He leaned back and smiled. “I see the biggest problem here is that you’re too attractive. I’m not sure I can see you as a person.”

  “What would I be if not a person?”

  “An object.” The smile faded. “All joking aside, Shannon, I’m not in this to get laid. I’m not that guy. Don’t get me wrong. Of course I want to sleep with you. I’m breathing, right? I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m a divorced father with two kids and the thought of playing the field exhausts me. I want
to find somebody special. Somebody I can care about and share things with. A relationship, I guess.”

  He paused and grimaced. “That was sure more than you needed to know. Sorry. Did I mention I’m not the greatest first date?”

  “This is our second date.”

  “That, too.”

  He looked embarrassed, but she wasn’t put off by what he’d said. It was honest, and lately it seemed honest men were hard to find.

  He wasn’t looking to play games or torment her or be totally in charge. He wanted to connect on a level that was meaningful.

  “I appreciate what you’ve said,” she told him. “And I get it.” She did her best not to smile. “Especially the part about not wanting to sleep with me. Because every girl longs to hear that.”

  He groaned. “Of course I want to sleep with you. I said that. I made that really clear.”

  Their server appeared. If she’d overheard what they were saying, she didn’t let on.

  “Good evening and welcome to The Farm Table. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

  Despite the fact that it was a set menu, it still took a good three or four minutes to perform the niceties and order the wine. After their server left, Shannon stretched out her hand, palm up.

  “It’s okay,” she told Adam.

  He put his hand on top of hers. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

  He sighed. “Would you have before I said anything?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He brightened. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “You are very strange.”

  “I’ve been told that before.”

  The server returned with their first glass of wine. When she left Adam raised his.

  “To the most beautiful woman I’ve ever gone out with and the fact that she won’t sleep with me.”

  “At least tonight,” she added, before touching his glass with hers.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Temptation. I like it.”

  She laughed and sipped her wine. “I’m going to have to time my tempting moments. You have children and shared custody. How does that work?”