C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (25 page)

“Probably the extent of your horticultural knowledge.”

“Close.”

T reached into the sink for a pitcher of water and carefully poured it around the roses, making a puddle on the table and causing C to laugh.

“You’re so bright, let’s see you do it.”

“Well, I’d have filled it with water before I put the flowers in.”

“Then why don’t you help by sopping it up now?”

C reached for the paper towels and pulled a few from the holder. “So I’ll go back to the original question. Besides making a mess, what are you doing?”
“Adding the final touches for a moonlight spin with the missus.”

“Ooh.” Sarcasm rolled off him as C tossed the wet towels into the sink on his way to look into the bedroom. Candles lined the headboard and the bed was invitingly turned down. “Rose petals! You’ve put rose petals between the sheets?”
“C, get out of there.” T pulled on his arm and they faced each other in the narrow corridor. “If you’d ever had a sufficiently romantic thought beyond wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, you might not be as miserable and sexually unsatisfied as you are now.”

“Which sex slash love guru are you trying to imitate? Marriage to that woman has made you an expert on those matters? I’ll take your advice on what constitutes a good high, but sex? I don’t think so.”

“Then you may leave.” T stepped back into the close quarters of the dining area and indicated the door, the boat railing, and the steps back up to his and Lyla’s dock.

C leaned back on the sink, folded his arms across his chest, tapped his foot, studied the floor. When he raised his eyes to T’s, his twin was still unsmiling. “Okay, okay. I apologize.” T still pointed to the door. “No, really, T, I need a question answered beyond the obvious one: if you’re on the lake, where’s the kid tonight?”

“With Bertie.” He shook a finger in C’s face. “Don’t even think about it! Don’t you dare bring Jemma out here!”

“Okay! Okay! The thought hadn’t crossed my mind!”

“The hell it hadn’t.” T sank down onto one of the dining benches. “If you have a legitimate question, hurry up and ask it.” He brushed at his shirt, shaking rose bits from the knit fabric. “I’ve still got work to do. Work—I might add—that I do with great pleasure because it pleases me to please Lyla.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“What if I am?” C moved toward the doorway and stood in it, leaned against the jamb. “I closed my eyes and you were a different person! And I don’t know you! And you’re so friggin’ happy!”

“You want the miserable, drugged-out wretch back?”

“No.” C stubbed at the floor with the toe of his shoe, studied the ceiling. “Certainly not. Amazingly, you’re better musically now that you’re sober and happy.” He pinched his lips together and lowered his gaze to T. “I guess I just want a piece of what you’ve got. We always did everything together and you’re not there for me any more.” He studied the lake’s horizon through the dining window.

“An honest moment with Eddie C. What would your ex-girlfriends and the media say? Not to mention Fletch.”

“That I’d found a lost cache of your ol’ up-your-nose.”

“So you’ve admitted your jealousy and now that you have, you’ll leave me to my housekeeping and never make disparaging remarks about my bride again?”

“Not in this lifetime.” C shifted his weight to the other side of the doorframe. “No, I want to know.” He paused and rethought the advisability of his question, the one he’d chewed around last night with Norm, the one that had flickered through his mind as Jemma pulled him down for the kiss that caught him totally off-guard. But if he couldn’t ask T, then who could he ask? “No, I want to know how you know you’re in love.”

T’s whistled lowly. “C-C, that’s a good one.” A smile teased the corners of his mouth.

“I’m being sincere, Win. How did you know Lyla was the one? And thank the Lord, there’s not another one at home like her.”

“Okay, C, I’ll be just as sincere as I think you’re being.” T blinked and concentrated on the tabletop. C thought he caught the glisten of a tear. “I needed her—body, soul, mind—to complete me. I couldn’t imagine another day without her. That’s when I knew that those two weeks could be the beginning of forever for me.” He raised his eyes to C’s, and C was struck by the depth of emotion roiling up, then stung by the vehemence of the words. “Then you came along all high-and-mighty and the game was over. Poof! In very few words, you convinced her I was the devil’s own and she was gone!”

“But you didn’t go back to your bad ways.”

“That was not the me I had become. I was a new person, the one you don’t recognize and still don’t know what to do with except when we’re performing. When the time was right—and with a big push from Bertie—we found each other again. That’s why I can put rose petals between the sheets and set a vase on the dining table and not feel castrated for doing it. Answer your question?”

C nodded. “Well, at least I haven’t been in love and not known it.” He refocused his eyes on T. “Jemma kissed me this afternoon and it wasn’t so much what I did see in her eyes as what I didn’t. I didn’t see someone calculating my net worth and figuring out how to get their share. I didn’t see someone hungry for media attention and a shot at stardom for themselves. I didn’t see guile or plots or hidden agendas. I think—hell, I
know
—she enjoyed me for me. For being Edward Charles, not Eddie C. I haven’t been Edward Charles in twenty years!”

“Well, occasionally, it would be good to see Edward Charles around here. Eddie C was, and is still,
persona non grata
.”

C waved him off. “Do you realize how hard that will be with Lyla?”

T shrugged. “All or nothing, C. If you’re going to turn over a new leaf, it had better stay turned or you’ll be found out and swept off!” He leaned back against the bench cushions. “Sounds like you’ve already got your tail in a crack as it is. All talk about coming back and courting Jemma. Didn’t expect to fall in love, did you? Just a little quickie and then be gone again!”
“I expected Abby to stay engaged.”

T laughed. “Serves you right, big mouth.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And she has a family, too. In for a penny…”

“All right, all right! You don’t have to enjoy this so damn much! So what if she’s got an ailing father, bitchy mother, overbearing brother, ditsy niece. Then there’s Norm and the Sunday school teacher bit. I must be out of my mind! I saw her less than an hour ago and I can’t wait to see her again in three. She’s as much as told me she’s not sleeping with me. And while I can’t say I don’t care—getting her in the sack is no longer my primary objective. Why can’t I stay away? What am I
doing
to myself?”

Female laughter pealed behind him and T cratered in huge guffaws as C turned to find Lyla behind him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” C’s feeling of betrayal translated itself into righteous indignation. “You know this isn’t a bit funny!”
“Oh, I don’t know, C. Pretty funny to me.” She straightened up. “But perhaps—and I say this with all sincerity—perhaps you should be asking ‘what am I doing
for
myself?’”

C waved her off. “And you!” He whirled on T, who was collapsed across the dining table, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “You knew she was there!”

“You were so interested in your own sad self, you didn’t hear her come down the steps. It’s not like she’s graceful as a gazelle!”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Lyla moved past C and into the cabin. “You think I’m ungraceful now, just wait!”

“Come sit on my lap while you still can.”

“Not a chance.” She perched on the edge of the bench opposite T.

“You’re not going to fit there much longer either.”

Lyla bestowed a sideways leer on him. “You really should quit while you’re ahead.”

“Yeah, she might not go out on this rattletrap with you tonight, T.” C mentally gathered his dignity and held firm once again in the doorway. He didn’t know which tactic to take: to act like she’d heard nothing or confess everything. He knew he wouldn’t be in his car before T would be telling her all the particulars. So he reverted to what he knew best, to being Eddie C. “You know, seeing that little bed in there and realizing that’s where the two of you are going to be…” he let his voice trail off for just an instant as T raised his eyebrows at him in suspicion “…that makes me think of Constance. T did finally tell you about her, didn’t he? About our education at the hands of an older woman?”

“No, I didn’t.” He measured the words, but what he left unsaid was obvious to C:
and you shouldn’t either.

“Make sure he tells you that twins were her specialty and three her favorite number.”

C had the satisfaction of seeing T red-faced before he left the boat.

***

“Marty, Jake.” C called and nodded in the direction of the back corner of the Lily Pond Cafe as he and Jemma entered for dinner. Conversation had stopped in the half-empty restaurant, then restored itself quickly.

“Already making friends with the locals? Don’t recognize them.”

“Independents that sell stories and photos to the highest bidder. We have been found out.” He pasted a fake smile on his face and followed her to a corner booth. Jemma grabbed menus as they passed the cash register.

“So you think they’ll jump up and start taking pictures and interviewing the wait-staff?” She slid into the near side and kept her back to the door.

“I think they’ll behave if for no other reason than Tib’s over in the other corner in uniform. Those two wouldn’t know the difference between the game warden and the chief of police.” He sat opposite her.

“You are one observant fellow.”

“Goes with the territory.” He picked up a menu, surveyed the first page. “So what do you recommend?”
“Buffet, six ninety-five, best deal in town on Wednesday.”

“And you’re a cheap date, too, Miss Lovelace. Can’t remember the last time I paid six ninety-five for anything.”

“Technically, I think I asked you.” She smiled up at the teenage waitress who appeared at the table’s edge and couldn’t take her eyes off C. “Kristy. Yo, Kristy.” Jemma tapped on the tabletop and the sharp noise distracted the girl from ogling C.

“Yes, Jemma? Oh, I mean, yes, ma’am, what can I get you?” The pencil broke in her hand as she pressed down on the lined order pad.

“Two buffets. Water. I’ll take hot tea.” She glanced at C and he nodded. “Two hot teas.” Kristy didn’t move, but her eyes rested again on C. “Kristy, sweetie, you okay?”

She answered without looking at Jemma. “Yes, ma’am.” With some effort, she turned part of her attention to Jemma. “Mandy said you were dating him. Ohmigod!” A little squeal escaped her lips and the entire populace of the restaurant swiveled their heads in their direction.

“Kristy, take a deep breath!”

“And I’m a queen nominee!” Her voice was still in its highest range and the last syllable went beyond human hearing.

Jemma reached up and took the girl’s hands in her own. She tugged and Kristy finally looked at her.

“Two waters. Two hot teas. We’ll get our own buffets.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She tried to look at C again, but Jemma jerked her back.

“Now, Kristy. We’re thirsty.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She didn’t move, so Jemma turned her gently and pushed her toward the kitchen.

“And you know our lovely waitperson because…”

“Had her in Sunday school. She’s a sweetie, but this doesn’t bode well for a private dinner.”

“You honestly thought you’d drag me out in public and we’d eat in peace?”

“I was testing the waters.”

“I fear you might drown.”

“Let’s see how we fare at the soup.” She slid out of the booth and he joined her. The soup table became very busy in their wake.

“T didn’t have this problem,” C noted as they sat back down. The waters and hot teas were perfectly placed, as was the silverware and cloth napkins. “She does set an attractive table.”

“I think the owner has taken over.” Jemma nodded toward a middle-aged woman at the register who beamed back in response. “And Sam was a little less obvious while he was here.”

C took a sip of his hot-and-sour soup. “Excellent. How did your meeting at the bank go?”

“One house successfully changed hands.”

“No wonder we can afford such an expensive dinner.” His manner quieted as he stirred the soup, took a minute to put his thoughts into words. “Have you ever said something and then, oh, say, an hour later, thought better of it?”

“As in regretted it?”
He nodded.

“And it takes you a whole hour to get there?”

“I think you’re being sarcastic. I asked a serious question.”
She cut a wonton in half on the side of the soup cup. “I usually regret my words immediately as I say them.” She swallowed. “Maybe I’ve had more experience with regret.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’d ever regret what you say.”

“Whereas you should have had lots of practice?”
“Should have. Haven’t.” He finished the soup, slid the cup to the side, where it barely left his fingers before Kristy had it snatched up. “I see what you mean about excellent service tonight.”

“So are you going to tell me what you regretted saying?” Jemma pushed her cup to the side and it stayed there.

“Pegged T with something when I told it to Lyla. It’s bound to get him in trouble although it shouldn’t. It was in the past. But she won’t like it.”

“I don’t think there’s much about Sam’s past that Lyla does like. Given the circumstances, she would seem the most understanding of women.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” He raised his eyes from their study of the tabletop. “I’ve been being better about what I say. Or don’t say. But there’s something about Lyla, about Lyla and T.” He stopped his words.

“Maybe you should start with small things. Like an apology.” He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “But that only works if you’re sincerely wanting to change where she’s concerned.”

He thought for a moment. “Nah. Then what fun would I have?”

Jemma raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, okay, there’s fun and then there’s
fun
.” He laughed. “Shall we cause a stampede at the noodles?”