Monkey Wrench (13 page)

Susannah turned up the walk to Joe's house and marched for the front door, determined that her courage should not fail her now. The knocker was a hand-carved woodpecker. She lifted it and rapped three times.

Gina answered the door, and the smell of pizza emanated from behind her. “Oh, hi,” she said to Susannah. “It's you again. My dad's on the phone.”

“I'll wait,” Susannah said sedately. “May I come in?”

“Sure.” Gina pulled the door wide. “But I warn you, he's got a date tonight.”

“I know,” Susannah replied, cringing inside at the word
date.
She stepped into the house. “It's with me.”

“With
you?
” Gina's face froze. “I thought you came back for— I didn't think he meant
you
were the hot number that—”

“Hot number?”

“He said...he was just joking, and I...jeez, I didn't think you were
dating
him when you were here before.”

“I wasn't. I'm not. We're getting together for...well, to talk about my grandmother.”

“That's not what Dad said.”

The accusation in Gina's voice was unmistakable, and Susannah knew she wasn't pleased that her father was seeing Susannah socially. And maybe she didn't like the idea of her father seeing
anyone.
The resentment in Gina's glare shook Susannah, but she decided not to let the girl upset her.

“Is that a stove timer I hear?” she inquired calmly.

The unmistakable bell of the microwave oven carried to them from the kitchen. Gina hesitated, then slammed the door and bounded for the kitchen, sending a look over her shoulder that was far from friendly.

Susannah stood uncomfortably in the hallway, wondering if she should follow the teenager or stay put. From up the stairs came the recorded strains of opera music—a soprano belting out a song Susannah didn't recognize. The hallway was cluttered with all manner of teenage goods—a book bag abandoned on the floor, several pairs of shoes hopelessly heaped near the throw rug, a set of headphones and a basketball balanced on the chair by the stairs.

There were signs of Joe, too. His scruffy parka had been left on the newel post, and just looking at it caused Susannah to speculate on how warm and soft it might feel.

On the small table by the door stood some picture frames. Susannah peeked at them and found several images of Gina—in younger years—grinning at her. The largest photo was that
of a woman with a cloud of dark hair and solemn brown eyes, who looked very much like Gina.

With a start, Susannah realized she was probably looking at Gina's mother, Joe's wife. Hastily, she stepped back from the photo display.

Gina poked her head around the kitchen doorway. “If you're hungry,” she snapped, “Dad made some hors d'oeuvres. I'm supposed to give you some.”

Hors d'oeuvres. Intrigued, Susannah took off her coat and followed Gina into the kitchen to sample Joe's idea of an appetizer. She hoped his daughter hadn't had time to poison them yet.

The kitchen smelled spicy. She recognized the scent of basil and rosemary—very Italian smells, in her mind. Although Joe's was a modern kitchen, it was very cluttered, with a startling variety of pots and pans hanging overhead, a rack of fancy bottled vinegars and the largest selection of wines Susannah had ever seen outside a restaurant. Joe had converted an old side porch into a wine closet, and all the bottles were labeled and meticulously dusted.

Gina pulled a tray out from under the broiler and set it on the tile countertop. “Here,” she said. “Dad said you'd like these. I think they're gross.”

Despite that recommendation, Susannah gingerly approached the tray. “Mushrooms!”

“Yeah, they came from Italy two days ago.” Gina dropped her hot mitts on the counter. “We have relatives who keep smuggling stuff like that to us. They've got some kind of cheese and fish inside. Go ahead and try one, if you dare.”

Susannah did try one and found the combination of flavors delectable. The stuffed mushrooms practically melted on her tongue. “Marvelous!”

“You want a glass of wine? My dad picked out a bottle.”

“Thank you. That would be nice.”

Although Gina's manner was determinedly insolent, the girl did know her manners. Susannah was impressed that she knew how to entertain a guest while waiting for her father.
From a distant counter, Gina removed a bottle of red wine that had been breathing there. She poured a stemmed glass half-full and passed it to Susannah, who carried it to one of the stools at the counter, where she could nibble on the mushrooms.

Gina began to cut up a microwave pizza. She licked her fingers when she was finished and caught Susannah watching her. Sensing disapproval, she said, “I make my own dinner when Dad goes out. He doesn't like this microwaved stuff, but I do. And he
hates
pizza. He says it perpetuates a stereotype. But it's easy to make.”

“I'm sure he appreciates your self-sufficiency.”

Gina looked suspicious, as if not believing Susannah's compliment. “Yeah,” she said.

Susannah had never spent much time around children. Teenagers were even more mystifying, for their mood swings seemed completely unpredictable. Susannah found herself at a loss for conversation. Sipping her wine—a dry, flavorful red—she tried to come up with a subject.

The local newspaper had been left open on the counter, and someone had circled a notice with red marker. Susannah reached for the paper.

“Oh, the Tinsel Ball,” she said, reading the notice. “I remember that dance. It was the biggest event of the year, after the homecoming weekend.”

Gina threw a murderous look at the paper. “Yeah. It's next week.”

“Oh! You're going, I suppose?”

Gina toyed with her pizza, as if suddenly not very hungry. “I'm thinking about it.”

“Do they still decorate the gym and bring in a fountain for the evening?”

Gina nodded coldly. “And two hundred poinsettia plants this year. It's going to be real pretty.”

“When I was in ninth grade, I bought my first strapless dress,” Susannah said, recalling the dance as if it had only happened a few months ago. “And, of course, a strapless bra
to go with it. But I didn't quite fill out the bra, if you know what I mean. So it kept slipping down all night. The dress stayed in place, but the bra ended up around my waist, and I couldn't do anything about it!”

A small smile appeared on the girl's face, but disappeared again quickly. Gina said, “I have a hard time imagining any embarrassing stuff happening to somebody like you.”

“Believe me, I have my share of embarrassing moments.”
With your father, for example.
“Fortunately, my date didn't have the faintest idea anything was wrong. Who is your date going to be?”

Gina froze in the act of biting into her pizza. “My date?”

“Yes. Or don't girls need dates to go to the Tinsel Ball anymore?”

“Oh, I could go alone if I wanted to,” Gina said, suddenly concentrating on a speck of cheese on her pizza crust. “But I'll have a date. I just haven't gotten around to...well, I've been busy, see.”

Susannah did see. Gina didn't have a date yet. Sipping from her wineglass, Susannah said casually, “Well, sometimes it's hard waiting for the right boy to ask.”

Gina's eyes blazed. “Oh, I could ask a boy myself, if I just...if I wanted to. But like I said, I've been pretty busy.”

Susannah began to catch on. Casually, she picked at her mushroom and asked, “Who did you have in mind?”

Gina shrugged. “I dunno. I'll get around to asking somebody sooner or later.” She bit into her pizza and chewed, eyeing Susannah as she ate. It was obvious that she was deciding how to handle the situation. Finally, after swallowing, Gina asked, “Did you invite my dad out tonight, or did he invite you?”

“Ah, he did the inviting.”

Gina nodded thoughtfully. “Do you like him?”

Caught off guard, Susannah said automatically, “Why, yes, I do.”

“He's kinda weird sometimes.”

Warily, Susannah said, “He seems very nice.”

“Do you like him a lot?” Gina pressed.

Susannah cleared her throat. “I've only just met him.”

She couldn't guess what was going on in the teenager's mind, for Gina's face did not readily reveal her thoughts. The girl chewed her pizza, staring at Susannah for another long, contemplative moment. Then she said, “You're pretty nice.”

“Why, thank you.”

“My dad knows lots of nice ladies, but you're nicer than most.”

“That's nice of you to say.”

“But you know,” Gina went on, “that he already has a girlfriend.”

Susannah nearly choked on the bit of stuffed mushroom that suddenly lodged in the back of her throat. She took a slug of wine, but it didn't help. She coughed.

Joe had a girlfriend?
Of course, you ninny,
she lectured herself.
A man as pleasant and attractive as Joe would naturally have a steady female friend. It's just surprising he has only one, when you think about it.

When she could breathe again, Susannah looked at Gina through watery eyes. “Oh, really?” she managed to ask.

Gina nodded, looking decidedly pleased with herself. “Yeah, they've been going together for years. She's really pretty.”

“I see.”

“They go back a long way,” Gina added. “And I like her a lot, too. Her name's, uh, Angelica. Yeah, that's it. Angelica.”

“That's quite an unusual name,” Susannah said vaguely, still recovering from the surprise.

Gina's brow puckered. “You think so?'

“Unusual, but very pretty.”

Gina grinned. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Susannah ate another mushroom and told herself she shouldn't be disappointed. On the contrary, she should be thankful! Joe wasn't looking for companionship at all. He
already had a relationship. Since he was already attached, Susannah thought she should feel relieved.

But, oddly enough, she didn't feel relief.

The mushrooms suddenly weren't so delicious anymore. She took another long swallow of wine but a persistent lump remained in her throat.

A whistle and the thud of footsteps on the carpeted stairs heralded Joe's arrival in the kitchen. He appeared a moment later, looking quite different in a blue button-down work shirt with a red knit tie and a clean pair of jeans. His hair was combed, his face was shaved, and he was every bit as dashing as before—just cleaned up. He looked tall and handsome and full of extraordinary vitality. Susannah's heart was suddenly kerthumping in her chest.

His grin was sexy and familiar as he scanned her outfit and returned his gaze to her face. It was a glance that turned Susannah to butter inside. “Hello, Miss Suzie,” he said, his voice caressingly mellow.
What a voice!
“I'm sorry I took so long.”

Susannah slid off her stool, wondering why she had to feel like such a gawky girl when he appeared. She couldn't remember a man ever making her feel so nervous. “Hello. Gina and I were just...we had a chance to chat.”

“Great. Learn anything I ought to know?”

“Oh, Dad.”

Joe laughed and gave his daughter's neck a fatherly squeeze. Susannah couldn't speak. For her, the moment was suddenly fraught with what might have been.

He's already got a life,
she said to herself.
And it doesn't include you.
She was surprised to find herself feeling very disappointed.

“Did you like the mushrooms?” Joe asked, turning on Susannah again.

She summoned a smile. “Yes, they're delicious. You're an accomplished cook.”

“Don't give me the credit. It's the mushrooms.”

“Gina said they came from your family in Italy.”

He scooped one of the appetizers off the tray and popped it into his mouth with gusto. “They did indeed. I'm sure my relatives are breaking half a dozen laws by sending these all the time, but what can I do? We might as well enjoy them before we get arrested by the customs agents. Here, have another.”

“Oh, I've had enough—”

“You'd better have another,” Joe warned. “The movie I want to see starts at seven-thirty. There's no time to eat before the show. Do you mind? I've been waiting for this one to come to town for a long time. I don't want to miss it.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“Great.” Another heart-stopping grin. “Then we can have a quick dinner afterward.”

After what? Susannah wondered what kind of movie Joe Santori anticipated with such relish. Something with football players and car crashes? Tough guys getting thrown through glass windows? She managed a weak smile.

“We'll talk then,” Joe promised. “And get to know each other.”

The look he gave Susannah—long lashes drooping over smoldery dark eyes—positively crackled with implications. Susannah almost laughed nervously. How did he think he could get away with making bedroom eyes at her while his pretty Angelica lurked in the wings?

Susannah set her wineglass on the counter. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.”

Joe wolfed down one more mushroom and indicated the front door with his outstretched hand. Susannah started to leave, then turned back to face the teenager. “It was nice to talk with you, Gina.”

The girl looked startled for a second, and Susannah realized she had caught her in an unguarded moment. For a second, Gina had been smiling with great delight at some inner joke. But she quickly collected herself and said, “Nice talking with you, too, Mrs. Atkins.”

“Miss,” Joe corrected. “Or is it Ms.?”

“I'd rather be Susannah.”

Gina was blushing by that time. “Okay, Susannah. See you around.”

“Thanks for the snacks and drink.”

Momentarily puzzled by the girl, Susannah walked to the front door and picked up her coat from the chair where she'd left it. Smoothly, Joe took the coat from her hands and helped her into it. She turned around to face him while she fastened the buttons. “Your daughter is very nice.”