Craving Perfect (4 page)

With my hands on my hips, I scanned the room again, wondering who could possibly need me at this busy hour. If it was the FedEx guy, the food delivery guy or the mailman, Kathryn would have dealt with them herself. All three preferred to talk to her, especially the lean, muscular FedEx guy who probably competed in triathlons in his spare time.

As usual, every table, chair and couch in the entire place was filled with customers, most of them sipping coffee as they tapped away on their laptops or chatted on cell phones. Norah Jones crooned through the stereo speakers in the corners of the room, giving the room a deceptively calm vibe.

Someone cleared his throat behind me. “Hi, Grace.”

A little startled, I turned and found myself staring up into the bottomless brown eyes of Carlos Flores.

He smiled down at me, one hand jammed in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Carlos?” I was unable to hold back surprise. I almost didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t wearing his gym uniform. “What are you doing here?” Not to mention, how did he know where I lived?

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened his fingers, palm up. “I think this belongs to you.”

I reached for the base of my neck. It was bare. “Oh, jeez!” I gasped. “Where’d you find it?” Carefully, I took the silver necklace from his hand and closed my fingers around it. The necklace had belonged to my mother; I rarely took it off. The turquoise pendant no bigger than a coffee bean was Mom’s favorite, a gift to her from Dad. He’d bought it for her in Bisbee where they were married. He always said the color matched Mom’s eyes. She never took it off either, when she was alive.

“How’d you know it was mine?”

“You dropped it when you slipped this morning. I found it on the floor. After you left,” he added quickly. “Sorry I couldn’t have gotten here sooner.”

I sighed and then opened my palm. “Carlos, I really can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost this.” I swallowed, hard. “It belonged to my mother.”

“She’d have been pretty mad, then.”

“
I’d
have been pretty mad. At me.” My head shook with disgust at my carelessness. How’d I miss it? “Thank you again, I really can’t say it enough. Let me get you a coffee and a piece of lemon cake. On the house. It’s the least I can do.” I was insistent.

Carlos lifted his hands. “Not necessary.”

I didn’t listen to him. Instead, I walked around the counter where we stashed the coffee pots, cups and pastry case. “Would you like to stay and eat here?”

“Can’t. I’ve got to get to class.”

“You’re a student too?”

He nodded.

“What do you study?”

“I’m in law school.”

“Cool.” I lifted the pastry case. “You must be pretty smart.”

Carlos shrugged and lowered his eyes. “I do okay.”

I smiled at his modesty through the pastry case glass. “I wish I could have said the same.”

“You didn’t like college?”

I stood up. “I did okay.”

Carlos smiled back at me, as if he was relieved we had something in common, and I felt my cheeks flush. But school was the last thing I’d ever brag about. I hated all of the auditorium-style classrooms, and I still had nightmares about the accounting classes I almost failed. I should have gone to culinary school or something. I was lucky to have squeaked by with a diploma, and if it hadn’t been for Dad, I probably would have dropped out. “You never know when you’ll need a degree,” he always said, but I never really took him too seriously. I always figured I’d work with him and Mom. Turned out Dad was partially right.

My eyes lowered from Carlos’s gaze. “Anyway, let me put the cake in a box for you. I’ll add a piece for your sister. For later.”

Carlos fidgeted beside me but I didn’t wait for an answer. I poured coffee into a large foam cup and placed two generous end pieces of lemon cake in a container, along with a napkin and two plastic forks. Before I closed the box, I reached for the powdered sugar shaker and dusted the cake.

Carlos finally seemed to relax and walked to the edge of the counter while I finished. As I pressed the lid on the lemon cake, he said, “You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t look up, still fidgeting with the box. “We like it. Been here my whole life.”

“Looks like you’re not the only ones.”

I glanced up at him. His eyes scanned the busy room. It buzzed and rustled with people and music and newspapers. The room felt better for it.

“How’d you know where to find me?”

“Elena told me. My sister,” he added quickly. “Your sister mentioned it to her once.”

I smiled. Then I held up a white bundle and his coffee. “Here you go. Hope you enjoy the cake, and thanks again for finding my necklace. I’d have been…totally crushed if I’d lost it. You’re a major life-saver, Carlos. Really.”

Carlos took the bag from my hand and for a moment our fingers brushed. His fingers were warm, just like his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that they locked on to mine a moment longer than necessary, as though there was something he’d forgotten to tell me.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

Finally, I said, “Would you rather have a scone?”

Carlos blinked first. Then he shook his head.

I swallowed, a little confused.

“No, thanks. I mean, thanks. Lemon cake is great.” But then he lifted his chin toward the front entrance and I figured I was probably holding him up. “Well, I gotta get to class.”

“Glad you didn’t have to drive too far out of your way.”

He nodded again, tucking the bundle underneath his arm.

“Stop by anytime.”

“Maybe I will.”

I felt my neck flush and I reached up to touch it. It felt so strangely bare without my necklace pressed against my skin.

“See you at the gym,” he added before turning toward the door.

I watched the back of his head as he wove between the tables before pushing open the door. The bell jingled above his head, almost touching it.

That was odd, I thought as I watched him through the front windows. What was really strange was that I finally allowed myself a normal breath.

“Everything okay?” Kathryn called from the counter. Only one more customer stood in line.

I turned, still squeezing Mom’s necklace. My hand had turned clammy.

Without another word, I headed back to the kitchen with a quick look at the half-empty pastry case. I had a sudden urge to bake a batch of raspberry scones.

I was such a
tonto!
An idiot!

The girl invited you to sit down for a coffee and you say
no?
Moron!

I yelled at myself inside my head as I made my way to my truck.

“Five extra lousy minutes wouldn’t have mattered,” I snarled out loud. “At least you could have warned her about Kramer.” But was that the only reason to talk to her? Was I just being protective? Like an older brother?

Different thoughts swirled inside my head, tackling and running over each other. A gray-haired couple walking toward me on the sidewalk looked like they were having serious thoughts about crossing the street. I wouldn’t have blamed them. No doubt they saw confusion and rage—rage at my own stupidity—fill my face.

“For such a smart college boy, you’re a real idiot.” I jammed my key into the driver’s door to my truck, still mumbling to myself.

In truth, it was the way that Grace had looked at that necklace, a simple silver chain with a tiny piece of blue turquoise hanging on the end of it, that caught me off-guard. I didn’t expect that look of relief in her eyes to turn my knees to Jell-O. As if I’d just handed her the world. What was it about her that was getting to me? Around Grace I began to feel like an onion. Each look from her peeled away another layer.

And then her neck had to turn all rosy pink when I made her blush and all I could think about was how I wanted to press my lips against her skin. I imagined the rest of her was warm and soft, just like it was the morning I held her head in my hands.

It was a miracle that I remembered to thank her for the coffee and cake.

Cake. Lemon cake.

I looked down at the bag in my hand. My fingers gripped the paper bag as though it was a lifeboat.

The next morning, I arrived at Goldie’s Gym a little earlier than usual. I was having Max Kramer withdrawals. Since my tumble, I hadn’t seen his face nearly enough.

And not gawking at Max at least once a day wasn’t good for my general outlook. To be frank, not seeing him made me cranky. I only hoped that I’d see him before my workout ended. I tucked away a raspberry scone in the back of the refrigerator for later, just in case I got lucky.

After saying hello and being ignored by Front Desk Guy, I reached over the counter for a towel and felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. For a moment, my heart stopped. I turned, thinking maybe—just maybe—it might be Max. I was prepared to give up the last clean towel, if necessary. I was ready to
be
his towel, if he’d let me.

“You must be Grace,” the girl said. “I’m Elena Flores, Carlos’s sister.” She extended her hand and smiled.

At first, I blinked and swallowed back my disappointment. I wasn’t expecting a girl. I wanted Max. But then I got a grip on myself and smiled at her.

I guessed her age at around twenty-five. Just like Carlos, Elena had the warmest brown eyes and the longest, feathery eyelashes I’d ever seen. When she smiled, two tiny dimples lit up the corners of her mouth. I reached for her hand. “Hi, Elena. Nice to meet you.”

Elena wore an oversized, white T-shirt with
Goldie’s Gym
printed in yellow thread above the pocket. Her body swam in it. She spoke with a slight accent like Carlos. “I wanted to thank you for sending Carlos back with the lemon cake. It was delicious.” She wound a ribbon of her black silky hair behind her ear. “Reminded me of the sopapillas my grandmother used to make.”

“Sopapillas?” I struggled with the right pronunciation. It sounded much prettier when Elena said it.

“Yes, they’re light puffy rolls, light like your lemon cake, except we used to smother them in powdered sugar and honey. Very delicious.”

My stomach swooned just listening to her description. Powdered sugar always did that to me. “Those do sound delicious. I’ve only had them once, a long time ago.”

“Next time I make them, I’ll bring some to you.”

I felt my smile grow. “I’d love it. I’d really look forward to it.”

“Well, I’m just glad Carlos found your necklace. Your mom would have been pretty upset, yes?”

My chest caved. It was like somebody punched me in the stomach. No matter how much time passed, it never got any easier. In a way, for me at least, it got harder. Each time somebody asked, it was almost like reliving it. “My mom passed away five years ago.” I was grateful that my voice stayed steady.

Elena’s eyes grew wide but then softened in the same instant. “Oh,” she exhaled. Then she swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Grace.” She paused. “Your father, then?”

“He died too.” I cleared my throat. “They died together. Car crash on I-10. They were coming back from Tucson.” I didn’t mention to her that they were driving back early from a last-minute vacation for my birthday surprise party, planned by Kathryn. Everything with my parents was always last-minute, one of the drawbacks to owning a family business. You took vacations when you could squeeze them in and rarely took them at all. But mostly you didn’t plan on a ten-car freeway pileup because of a freak dust storm.

Elena’s hand lifted to my shoulder. Her fingers squeezed my arm, gently. “I am so very sorry, Grace,” she whispered. “That must have been awful. And I didn’t mean to pry.” Her hand dropped to her side, and I could tell from the pain that flashed across her eyes that she would have rather swallowed back every one of her words.

I forced another smile, a different one, but couldn’t hide the tiny crack in my voice. “S’okay, Elena. You wouldn’t have known.”

“Our mother died two years ago now in June.” She paused. “Ovarian cancer.” Then she inhaled, deeply. “I keep waiting to be able to say the words without crying inside.” Her breath hitched and I instinctively wanted to reach out to hug her, to let her know that I understood. But I wished I didn’t understand. I’d have given anything to be clueless.

“Me, too,” I said finally. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom, for you and Carlos.” Carefully, I asked, “And your father?”

“He’s still alive, but part of him died with her.” Her eyes looked through me. “He hasn’t been the same since. He lives with Carlos and me. Rarely leaves his bedroom. Just sits in his chair and pretends to read.” She blinked, focusing on my face again. Then her mouth curved upwards in a smile but it was hardly a smile. I knew that look. I’d lived it lots of times. It was gut-wrenching pain and I felt it, right through every inch of my chest. She missed her mother.

“I am so sorry, Elena.”

Elena nodded. Her lips pressed together. I envied her, her strength.

Gym members began to stream inside, passing us on both sides.

She reached for my hand and held it, her skin soft and reassuring. “Well, I better let you get on with your workout. Maybe we’ll talk some other time?” Her tone was hopeful.

“Yes, I’d like that, and you and your brother should stop by our place. I told him that coffee and pastries are on the house and that goes for you too.” I picked up the gym bag at my feet. “Maybe we could share some recipes? I’d love to hear more about some of your grandmother’s specialties. I’m a bit of a baking geek.”

Elena’s eyes sparkled again, the color returning to her cheeks. “Me, too.” Her laughter was airy and genuine. “That would be fun. We’ll plan on it one evening, if we ever get a free evening around here.” Her eyes rolled playfully.

“I understand. Well, I better get a move-on and start burning some calories.” I patted the side of my leg. It jiggled a little beneath my hand, a painful reminder.

“The gym just got some new treadmills.” Elena pointed toward the mirrors. “You’ll be one of the first to break them in.”

I glanced toward the aerobic room, hopeful that they’d be close to the free weights and Max Kramer, preferably directly behind his dreamy dimpled shoulders. “As long as I don’t fall off, they’ll work just fine.”

“Bye, Grace.”

“See ya, Elena.”

Three new treadmill machines were positioned perfectly to the right of the free-weight area. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Max.

I groaned inwardly. The gym felt so empty without him, no matter how many people buzzed around. And my raspberry scone would have to stay wrapped in the refrigerator one more day. That was the deal.

Stupid deal.

Disappointed, I stepped on the new treadmill near the corner. Its display was still shiny and unscratched; no one had had the chance yet to deposit a wad of gum or an empty water bottle in any of the side holders. It was like stepping into a new car. Even the rubber belt smelled freshly oiled and new.

“Wonderful,” I muttered as I pressed the START key and began a slow warm-up to three miles per hour. I kept the incline level and held on to the side bars for additional support, just until I got comfortable with the new machine.

After the control panel counted down the five warm-up minutes, I released my hands and increased the speed a half notch, but not so fast that I couldn’t stay on the lookout for Max without losing my balance. At three and one-half miles per hour, the back of my neck began to feel warm and sticky underneath my ponytail. As usual, half my ponytail stayed pinned back, the other half clawed around my face.

Breathing became harder but I kept on walking. Feeling brave, I increased the speed a few more notches, watching the red computer bars on the display flash higher. The new machine even displayed an encouraging thumbs-up cartoony graphic.

I smiled down at the cheery hand. This was the fastest I’d walked since my last fall.

Then I decided that since I was walking so fast, I might as well jog. Why not? I could manage it. In my periphery, I watched Alexandra waltz through the front door and sway her perfect hips toward the weight room like one of those perfect models on
Deal or No Deal
but without the million-dollar case. Then I remembered the leg jiggle beneath my hand. And that provided all the motivation I needed. If I was ever going to have a body like Alexandra’s, I was going to have to work harder. Way harder.

Pushing the hair from my eyes, I cranked up the speed to four and one-half miles per hour, the fastest I’d ever walked—or run. Walking became impossible, so I started to jog. My running shoes thumped against the rubber tread. I was definitely jogging.

This isn’t so bad. I can do this…

Encouraged, I notched up the speed to just under five miles per hour. My legs moved faster. I even felt a slight tingle in my calves. With arms close to my sides, I concentrated on my breathing. Then I did the unthinkable: I reached down to the display panel and pressed the ARROW key until the speed reached an even six miles per hour.

Six miles per hour!

I marveled at how well I was doing.

I can do this! And it’s not so bad. I’m finally doing it!

The balls of my feet banged against the rubber tread with so much force that I couldn’t hear the pulsating rap music blaring through the speaker above my head. The only thing I heard was my own steady breathing, in perfect unison with my footsteps.

In and out. In and out.

Then I reached down and put my forefinger on the up ARROW one last time.
Just one more notch
, I promised myself.
Then I’ll slow down.
I just wanted to see if I could do it…

Sweat trickled down the sides of my forehead and my hair stuck all around my face like scotch tape.

With my right finger, I pressed the ARROW key one last time, wanting to see that cheery graphic again, the one giving me the thumbs-up sign. My heart felt as if it could pump its way out of my chest. Oddly, I’d never breathed more evenly, run faster, or felt better. My body felt light as sponge cake. I felt like I could run all day, even fly.

That was exactly when everything faded to black.