Miss Match (33 page)

"Oh come on, Ruby, it wasn't that bad."

"Laurie, he seems like a nice enough guy at Bible study. But he talked
for forty-five minutes about his dog's sinus problems! Forty-five minutes!
In disgusting detail! Over dinner!" She's making a gagging face.

"Ruby-"

She starts pacing. "I was sitting there staring at the cheese dripping
down my lasagna as he talked about a big mucus blockage! It was gross!
I'm never eating lasagna again!"

"Would an all-expense-paid date with Nick make up for it?"

She stops mid-rant. "What?"

Hannah comes through the door.

"Hey, Laur. Hey, Ruby." She sets her purse down and notices the
extra coffee. "For me?"

"Yep." I look back at Ruby. "What were you saying?"

Ruby's staring slack-jawed at Hannah, who looks amazing in a cerulean sparkly top and brown cords. "How come I got Stephen, who was
gross and disgusting, and Nick got Hannah?"

Hannah sips her coffee. "You don't know what I talked about."

Ruby's shaking her head so hard her curls take flight. "It couldn't
have been worse than my conversation."

"What did you talk about?" I ask Hannah.

"Flies."

"Flies?" Ruby and I repeat together.

"Yeah." She sips her coffee again. "Did you know that flies develop
from an egg to an adult in seven to fourteen days? And since they're usually bred in manure, they carry diseases like typhoid or diarrhea?"

Ruby quits drinking her coffee. "I was wrong."

"Don't tell me you researched for this dinner," I say.

Hannah nods happily.

"Geek," I accuse her.

Brandon comes through the door, slinging his coat over his
shoulder.

"It works better if you wear it," Hannah tells him.

"Thanks, Mom. How'd the dates go?" He slings an arm around
Ruby's shoulders. She glares at him. "That well, huh?" Brandon asks.

"It was horrible! Absolutely horrible! If all men are like that-"

"Nick's not," I put in.

"I'm marrying Nick, then," Ruby declares.

"You are?" I grin.

She stops, her face turning a brilliant burgundy color. "Well, if
he asks."

Hannah looks at me. "So I guess we have a new project, Laur."

"Don't even think about it, girls."

Brandon nods, his arm still around Ruby. "Yeah. Don't even think
about it."

"Hey, let go of her, you womanizer." I swat his hand. "What if Nick
walks in? Want him to get the wrong idea?"

Ruby blushes. "Laurie."

"Ruby, you know I'd love to chat with you, but my nine fifteen is
here. What are the odds?"

"You are one lucky dame," Brandon says in admiration.

The Steeles come in. "Thank goodness it's warm in here," Mrs.
Steele says.

My stomach growls as I wave good-bye to my twelve thirty. They run to
their car and jump in, probably cranking on the heater.

A pickup pulls into the parking lot and I grin. Ryan.

He comes through the door a moment later. His hair is squooshed
underneath a backwards baseball cap, he's got sawdust caked into the
creases on his boots, and he obviously didn't shave this morning. I have
to smile.

"Hey, Hannah! I've got a live one!" I yell.

Hannah steps out from Studio One. "Hi, Ryan. Sorry about her. She
had Coco-Odies for breakfast this morning."

Ryan grimaces as he looks at me. "Coco-Odies?"

"With two extra scoops of sugar." I hold up my fingers like a preschooler to show him.

The grimace hasn't left his face. "Do I want to take her to lunch,
Hannah?"

"Please. Then you can deal with her."

"Hey! Let's both step to our neutral corners," I tell her.

She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. "Mine got eaten by
Herman."

I peer behind her. It's true. The massive bouquet of white lilies, red
roses, and more baby's breath than you see in a hundred nurseries was
delivered this morning with a card, which Ruby did not let Hannah
and me see. Quite distressing. In rebuttal, we named the monstrosity
Herman.

Ruby was not amused.

Ryan lifts an eyebrow but doesn't comment on the name. "So I came
to ask you something," he says to me.

"Ask away."

"Want to go get some lunch?"

"Can we get M&Ms afterward?"

"Our stash ran out," Hannah explains for me. "We had to split the
last Milky Way."

"Horror of horrors," he responds dryly. "Fine. We'll get M&Ms. Get
your coat, it's freezing."

"Ruby's going out with Nick," I tell Hannah. "Make sure Brandon
eats, will you?"

She salutes. "I'll do my best."

Ryan opens the door and Cold Wind invites itself inside, offers itself
a chair, and then decides to riffle through Hannah's papers.

Hannah smashes the papers down on Cold Wind's icy fingers, and
waves. "Have fun!"

"Where are we going?" I ask once Ryan's climbed into the truck after
helping me into the passenger seat.

He shrugs. "Vizzini's or Halia's?"

"It's Thursday."

"So?"

"So Vizzini's has their special fried eggplant spaghetti with a side of
fresh, albeit fried, vegetables, including squash, onions, and bell peppers,
and, for dessert, kumquat."

His forehead wrinkles. "What the heck is kumquat?"

"An orangelike thing, I think."

He turns out of the parking lot. "Halia's."

"Wise man."

Halia's is a good three miles from the studio. We get there in no time at all, Ryan parks, and a bearded male opens the door for us.

"Welcome to Halia's! The best Mexican food on the planet!"

"Thanks. Is Halia here?" I ask.

The man shakes his head vigorously. "Nope. I'm the new owner."

I blink. "You are? What happened to Halia?"

"She retired. Two weeks ago." He's beaming. "Table for two?"

I nod, surprised. The man fairly jumps in his excitement. "Excellent!
Right this way, please!"

He leads us through a mostly empty restaurant to a table near
the back windows and across the aisle from an elderly couple. "Enjoy
your meal!"

"Thanks." Ryan strips his coat.

He waits until the bearded man leaves before leaning over the table.
"Odd person. Empty place."

"Yeah." I take off my coat as well. "I wonder why Halia retired. Every
time Dad and I came, she always looked like she loved working here."

Ryan looks around. "So Halia is Hispanic?"

"No, actually Halia is Hawaiian. But when she came to the continental U.S., she realized she liked Mexican food much better than
Hawaiian, so she created a Mexican restaurant."

"Weird."

"Yeah, well, you'll get used to this town one day." I look at the menu.
"I'm getting enchiladas. Halia makes great beef enchiladas." I stop.
"Wow. I hope she left her recipes."

"Enchiladas sound good."

A timid-looking girl I've never seen before with big hazel eyes
and limp brown hair tiptoes to the table. "C-Can I take your order?"
she whispers.

Ryan smiles kindly at her. "Two rolled beef enchiladas, please. And
an order of nachos."

"And two Dr. Peppers," I order.

Ryan nods. "And two coffees."

I clear my throat. Ryan rolls his eyes.

"One with room for cream," he tacks on.

The girl scribbles furiously, biting her lip. "I'll have the ... the drinks
right out."

"Thanks," he says.

She fairly bolts out of sight.

Ryan watches her. "No wonder the place is empty."

I frown at him. "Ryan!"

"What? The girl must be hiding a body in the kitchen or
something."

"Well, sure! It's what they make the carne adovada with."

He makes a face. "You are gross."

"And you are paranoid. People are probably just crowding Vizzini's
to get their hands on the Thursday special."

The old man across the aisle turns toward us. "I heard about that," he
says to us, his voice deep and gruff.

Ryan blinks. "Heard about what, sir?"

"The Thursday special. Vizzini's changed it. It's now four-cheese tortellini with a side of buttered broccoli and a slice of cheesecake."

I dab the drool off my lower lip.

Ryan nods. "Sounds good."

"We're going there after this." The old man motions to his wife,
who is decked out in a blue-checked dress, blue hair, and matching
blue heels.

"I love cheesecake," she declares. Her voice, as opposed to the crusty
sound her husband makes, is soft and fluid like I imagine Julie Andrews
sounding in about ten years.

"Me too," I say with a grin.

"I just can't eat it," she confesses. "My arteries."

"Verna's had three attacks this year," the man says.

"How tragic," I commiserate.

She waves a blue-veined hand at me that, oddly enough, matches
the dress, the shoes, and the hair. "Oh, the attacks aren't the tragic part,
Sweetie. It's not eating the cheesecake that's the hardest. Especially when
I have to sit here and watch Mr. Smug himself eat it right in front of me."
She smacks the old man's arm.

Mr. Smug smirks. "I told you that you should have eaten more vitamins years ago. I did and look at me." He looks at us. "No attacks, no
strokes, no cancer."

"You did not tell me to eat vitamins. You told me to eat Brussels
sprouts." She sticks her tongue out and gags in a very not-so-old-lady
action. "Disgusting things, those little cabbage heads are!"

The man lurches over the table, pointing a bony finger at her. "But
they're packed with vitamins! You ate those, you could have had the
cheesecake!"

"For heaven's sake, Arnie, I'm eighty-seven years old! Just let me have
the cheesecake!"

"No!"

Ryan leans his elbows on the table and covers his mouth, his eyes
crinkling.

Verna slams her napkin on the table. "Fine, you old Pop Tart! I'll
go there myself and get the cheesecake." She storms off, not sparing us
another glance.

Arnie sighs loud enough for her to hear, waits until she gets to the
front door, and gives us a grin. "Making her mad keeps life fun." He sets
a ten-spot on the table and goes after her. "What did you just call me?"
he hollers as he leaves.

I look at Ryan and he uncovers his mouth, grinning broadly. I giggle.

"Was that a sign of what our married life would look like?" he asks
with a laugh.

I nod slowly. "I would say so."

"Their kids must've been a riot growing up."

The girl with the limp hair, who has yet to identify herself, skulks
to our table, drops the drinks and a plate of half-cooked nachos, and
lights for the back room like a lighter lighting ... and never mind that
analogy.

I try very hard not to gag at the nachos. Well, moderately hard,
anyway.

"Blegh." I pull one guacamole-sogged chip from the middle of the
plate. "Maybe Halia didn't leave the recipes."

Ryan's nose wrinkles. "I say we skip the nachos."

The chip wilts between my fingers and plunks with a small glump
back onto the stack.

"Blegh! Yuck, yuck, yucky. Give me a napkin, boy." I shake
my hand.

He passes a napkin. "Here, girl."

I shiver, grossed out. "This place has gone way downhill. They used
part of the corpse to make that guacamole. The chips are cold."

"You are nasty."

"We've covered this, remember?"

He pushes the repulsing plate to the edge of the table.

"Keep pushing."

"Laurie."

"I'm serious."

"I'm not paying for a broken plate." He swishes his straw around in
his Dr. Pepper. "What do you have this afternoon?"

"Appointments at three, three thirty, and four. Then I'm done for the day." I take a drink, my stomach still rolling. "Why?"

The corners of his mouth turn up. He leans over the table conspiratorially. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I know what Ruby's
card said."

"What?" I shriek.

"Nick asked her out to dinner. Congratulations, kid. Your plan
worked. Not that I condone it."

I raise a congratulatory fist. "I'm a genius!"

"No, you're just plain lucky." He lowers my fist and pats my
shoulder.

"I don't believe in luck."

"Plucky, then."

"You are patting my shoulder again."

He stops and squeezes the back of my neck. "You drive me crazy."

"I know."

He grins at me, his eyes sparkling. I smile back.

Some of the guacamole spores must have gone through my nostrils
and landed in my stomach because I start feeling weird. Sort of a combo
of queasy and tingly.

Worse, I can't decide whether it's a good or bad sensation.

The girl squirrels over with the plates and Ryan pulls his hand away.
The queasiness stops.

I watch Ryan as he takes his plate and suddenly wonder if ...

Nah. Not possible. It's the guacamole. That's all.

She sets my enchiladas in front of me, and the queasiness jump-starts
back into place.

"Enjoy your meal," she whimpers and runs for it.

Ryan swallows, licking his lips nervously.

I nudge one side of the glob with my fork. "Ryan," I half-whisper,
half-shriek. "There's an eyeball in this."