Chapter 2 #2
“There, there, now Georgie, honey.” Good Gus squatted next to her, offered his monogrammed handkerchief, and gripped her hand. “Someone get her a glass of water.”
“I’ve got it.” Pushing past Jogger Guy, Bill stopped all of a sudden and eyed the younger man with suspicion. “Where do I know you from?”
“I work with your daughter.”
“You’re a cop?”
“Detective Nathan Caldwell, Newport Police Department.” He extended his hand. “I’ve seen you around the station with Roxy.”
Because he was too polite not to, Bill shook Nathan’s hand while continuing to give him the once-over. “You made Georgie cry. We don’t care for that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just driving by, and I saw her—”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to, young feller.” Bill nodded toward Georgie, who was still mopping up the torrent of tears.
The men parted to let Nathan through.
Good Gus stood up but didn’t leave his post at Georgie’s side.
They waited expectantly.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Nathan said.
If he’d had a hat, it would have been twisting in his hands. The old men could be intimidating when they wanted to be, a discovery Georgie found intriguing—and endearing.
“It’s okay,” she said, mortified by the entire episode.
“I was just wondering why you don’t recycle,” he mumbled.
“My mother requested a recycling Dumpster from the city a year ago.” Georgie gestured to the stack of paper on the cluttered desk. “There’s a copy of the form here somewhere. Apparently, she didn’t get anywhere.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Nathan said.
“So go arrest someone at City Hall,” Bad Gus growled. “And stop picking on Georgie.”
“I wasn’t picking on her—”
“You can move along now, son.” Walter tugged on Nathan’s arm to lead him from the office. “We’ll take care of her.”
“I really am sorry,” Nathan said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” On his way out, he brushed past Walter and Bill, who was returning with the glass of water.
“I’m okay, you guys,” Georgie insisted. “I’m sorry to make such a scene.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Good Gus said.
Georgie took a long sip of water. “Thanks. Go on back to your game. I’m fine. Really.”
They began to filter back into the common room for their afternoon round of Euchre, a card game Bill had imported to Rhode Island from Minnesota. Good Gus lingered. “Are you sure you’re all right? It’s not like you to break down like that.”
“I miss my mom,” she said, knowing she could confide in him and it wouldn’t be all over the center in ten minutes.
His face softened. “Of course you do, honey.”
“And to add insult to injury, my boyfriend in Atlanta dumped me this morning.”
“What? Is he crazy? I’ll tell you what,” Gus huffed, “if I was thirty years younger, why I’d court you myself. He’s a fool.”
Amused by his righteous indignation, Georgie smiled. “I’d be honored to be courted by such a lovely gentleman.”
“Don’t you worry. You’ll meet a nice young man in no time. Once the word gets out that you’re on the market, we’ll have to beat them off with a stick. Heck, Walter is ready to run away with you the minute you say the word.”
Smiling, she got up to hug him. “Do me a favor and don’t put out the word, okay?”
“Sure thing,” he said, returning her embrace and kissing her forehead. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ll let you get back to work, but we’re right out there if you need us.” He headed for the door.
“Gus?”
Turning back, he raised a white eyebrow.
“Thank you. Tell the others, too.”
“Our pleasure, honey.”
When she was alone, Georgie dropped her head onto her folded arms and took a deep, rattling breath.
So embarrassing. Flipping out over trash of all things.
What he must think of her. Nathan Caldwell.
It was a nice name that suited him. Too bad he’d gone and ruined all her fantasies by being a jerk.
Now what would she have to look forward to every day?
A cloud of depression hung over her as she slugged through the rest of the day.
Closing the center at the stroke of six, she felt bad—as she did every day—ushering the last few stragglers to the door, knowing many of them wouldn’t see or talk to another living soul until they returned the next morning.
They were why she kept coming back every day, despite her overwhelming desire to be anywhere else.
After an hour of paperwork, she walked through the heavy humidity to her car.
Parallel parking in front of the house a short time later, Georgie focused on what to have for dinner and the things she needed to get done that night—including laundry and a list of her mother’s assets for the probate attorney.
She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a huge arrangement of fragrant, festive lilies sitting on the porch.
With a glance around to see if anyone was watching, she went up the stairs, her heart heavy with dread.
How predictable of Doug to do something like this.
He’d probably had his secretary order the consolation bouquet.
So sorry to dump you, she imagined the card would say.
Have a nice life. Love, Doug. She plucked the envelope from among the flowers.
Inside she found a card describing the eco-friendly environment the flowers had been grown in. That’s odd. What does Doug care about that? Reading the message, her heart skipped a crazy beat. “Sorry I made you cry. Forgive me? Nate Caldwell.”
“Oh,” she gasped, turning to find Jogger Guy, still fresh and polished in his work clothes, standing in the street watching her with his hands jammed into his pockets. Tongue-tied, she stared at him.
He made his way toward her. “Do not cry,” he ordered, softening his tone when he added, “Please don’t.”
“I won’t.” The stink of flounder clung to her clothes and hair as he reached the bottom step and looked up at her with startling blue eyes.
“How did you know where I live?” He’d seemed so intent during his runs that she was certain he hadn’t paid much attention to them drooling over him from the porch.
“I’m a detective,” he said with a smug expression.
“Oh, so you just, like, tracked me down?” she asked, not sure how she felt about that.
He grinned, causing his tanned, handsome face to crinkle in all the best ways.
Her heart pounded. God, he was hot and not as much of a jerk, apparently, as she had thought earlier.
“Actually, I run by here every morning and recognized you.”
“We didn’t think you ever looked,” she said, quickly adding, “not that we’ve discussed you or anything.” She was babbling. She knew it but was powerless to stop it. Why did this particular guy have this particular effect on her?
“I’ve taken an occasional peek. Running in this neighborhood has become much more interesting since you ladies moved in. Are you new in town?”
“I grew up here. My roommate Cat is also from here. Tess is from Connecticut.”
“Which one has the spiky red hair?”
“That’d be Cat.”
“Wasn’t there another one? I seem to remember four of you.”
“Oh, that was my sister, Ali. She’s gone home to New York.” Georgie wondered if he could smell the flounder from where he stood on the sidewalk. Fortunately, the lilies were putting out a powerful perfume that she hoped was strong enough to do battle with the fish stench.
He glanced at the flowers. “So what do you say?”
“About?”
“Forgive me?”
Why do you care? she wanted to ask but didn’t. “Of course. Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.”
“You’re welcome. Since I’m not in the practice of making pretty girls cry, I needed to make it up to you.”
Did he just call me pretty? Looking like a frump and stinking like fish? Georgie ran a self-conscious hand through her rumpled hair and yearned for the shower. “Well, thanks again for the flowers.” She reached down to pick them up off the porch. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. Are you free for dinner?”
Stunned, she could only stare at him from behind the huge bouquet while wondering if her mouth was actually hanging open with surprise or if it just felt that way.
“Hello?” He waved a hand. “Georgie?”
“Um, I . . .”
“You what?”
“I stink. Like flounder. Today’s lunch special.”
He tossed his golden head back and laughed. “I can wait while you clean up. But if you don’t want to go out with someone who made you cry, I’d understand.”
Studying him, she remembered the list of things she had planned to do that night, but suddenly none of it was at all appealing when stacked up against him. Why the hell not? After all, Doug did say we should see other people, right? And I like what I’m seeing… “Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?”
He gestured for her to go for it, and she turned toward the house, stopping at the front door. “Do you, um, want to come in?”
“I’ll wait for you out here.” He strolled up the stairs and plopped down on the porch sofa.
Georgie wondered if it was a coincidence that he picked the very spot where she watched for him each morning. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”
“Take your time.” He put his head back and closed his eyes.
She studied him in all his exquisite beauty for a long moment before she went inside, stashed the flowers on a table, and bolted for the stairs, withdrawing her cell phone from her pocket as she went.
“Come on, come on, pick up,” she whispered as she waited for Cat to answer her cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God you answered.”
“Georgie? What’s wrong?”
Georgie could hear loud music and voices in the background at Club Underground where Cat was the manager. “You’re not going to believe who I’m having dinner with tonight.”
“Don’t tell me you finally agreed to go out with that old guy, Walter. That’s just so wrong.”
“No, no! The jogger guy.”
“No way!” Cat said with a loud whistle. “No freaking way! How’d you meet him?”
Georgie gave Cat an abbreviated version of the story. “He’s waiting for me on the porch.”
“Then what the hell are you doing calling me?”
“I was flipping out and needed to tell someone.”
“What’s he look like in clothes?”
“Amazing,” Georgie said with a sigh, remembering the way his pale blue shirt had magnified his already glorious eyes as he looked up at her from the street.
“I’m going to need you to take notes—copious notes—so you don’t forget to tell us everything, do you hear? I know I speak for Tess when I say we’ll want every, single, salacious detail.”
“We’re going to dinner, not having sex,” Georgie said dryly as she worked around the phone to peel off her clothes.
“If there’s ever been a time in your life for first-date sex, this is it. Might be just what you need to take your mind off everything.”
“Not happening. I’ve got to go. I told him I’d be quick.”
Cat snorted. “You? Quick in the shower? I hope he’s not hungry.”
“Bye, Cat.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Cat said, laughing. “I’m so jealous!”
“Hanging up now.”
“Take condoms! There’s a box in my bedside drawer.”
“I’m in the shower. Can’t hear you!” Georgie cut the connection, tossed her phone onto the vanity, and got busy scrubbing off the eau de flounder.
Twenty-five minutes later, she had dried her hair, done her best with a mascara wand and lip liner, tried on almost everything in her closet, and created a complete disaster in her bedroom.
Just so she wouldn’t be tempted to take Cat’s advice, she purposely wore underwear that didn’t match—purple polka dot bikini panties and a yellow bra.
She was beginning to sweat by the time she finally tugged on a sundress that could have used ironing, slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops, grabbed her purse, and headed for the stairs before she could change her mind about her clothes—again.
Everything felt wrong and out of whack, she thought with irritation as she clomped down the stairs.
A date like this required significant preparation—including a manicure, pedicure and waxing—not half an hour and no consultation on proper attire with women whose opinions she trusted.
Feeling like she was at a significant disadvantage and once again bemoaning the loss of her untroubled, stylish life in Atlanta, she pushed open the screen door to the porch and announced, “Ready,” in what she hoped was a breezy, it-was-no-big-deal-to-look-this-good tone.
Sprawled out on the wicker sofa, Nathan was sound asleep.