Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) (31 page)

I unlocked the sash and opened the window. “Josh,” I shouted down, “what are you doing?”

Grinning up at me, he replied, “Better hurry, Frannie. According to my calculations, the show starts in about two minutes.”

Show? What show? My brain, muzzy from sleep, scrambled for purchase. Barry still crooned about everything being really, really nice—Josh must have put the song’s opening on a continuous loop. A spark lit up inside my skull. Barry White. Josh in his hardhat and tool belt. The makeshift stage. The spotlights.

Oh, my God. He couldn’t possibly plan to...

My body temperature skyrocketed.

“Well?” he prompted. “You coming down, or should I move the show to the McNeils’ roof so all your neighbors get an eyeful of what’s supposed to be just for you?”

“I’m coming down.” Excitement surged, and I grabbed my robe, wrapping myself in the thick fleece as I flew downstairs. I didn’t bother with shoes—a mistake I realized when my bare feet hit the damp ground outside my back door. I didn’t care. Nor did I care about the goofy smile that stretched my lips when I greeted Josh with an extra lame, “Hi, there.”

“Miss?” He tipped his hardhat. “Table for one?”

Apparently, he’d been busy in my yard while I slept upstairs. In front of the makeshift stage sat one bistro table and matching chair, a lit tapered candle in a crystal holder, and a takeout cup from the local convenience store. A pink and purple paper umbrella stuck incongruously out of the cup’s plastic lid.

“I guess so,” I replied as I sat in my reserved seat. I jerked my head at the cup. “What’s this?”

“Tea,” he said. The music picked up tempo, the drums becoming more insistent. “Now, quiet.” He leaped onto the stage. “The show’s about to start.”

The moment Barry broke into the first line, “My first, my last, my everything...” Josh began his gyrations, arms stretched out straight from each shoulder.

The tools dangling from his belt swayed and clanged with every jiggle. Just when I thought the noise would drown out the music, his hands reached for the buckle in the center of his waistband and slowly unclipped, allowing the belt to fall to the floor. With his hips rocking to the beat, he lifted his hand to the collar of his black tee. One quick yank tore the shirt from his chiseled chest. The bright lights illuminated golden skin and washboard abs. My blood pressure spiked, and my mouth watered at the tempting picture he presented to me. He waved the black fabric over his head several times before gliding across the makeshift dance floor. At the edge of the stage, he leaned down and drape the fabric around my neck, blew me a kiss, and straightened up again.

Thumbs tucked into his waistband, he shimmied away. The hardhat slid sideways on his head to a ridiculous angle, but he kept dancing.

Professionally speaking, the Chippendales had nothing to worry about. Josh was clumsy, with very little rhythm, and I could actually see his lips counting off the steps. Yet, to me, he put on the best show I’d ever attended.  Because he’d done all this for one reason: to see me smile.

He pivoted on his toes, presenting his backside to me, the tight shiny black pants showing every dimple as he flexed his gluteus maximus in time…well, almost in time…with the drumbeat. I would’ve covered my face to shield my heated cheeks, but I didn’t want to miss one second of the show.

Once again, he turned and sashayed forward, this time leaning down to grab my hand and pull me out of the “audience” and onto the stage. Loosening the knot on my robe, he used the ends as a rope to drag me toward him until we were in a couple’s clinch.

While the background singers burst into “ooh-woo, ooh-woo,” he pressed me into him and whirled me into his practiced dance routine.He waltzed me from one end of the platform to the other, dipping me at each corner, bringing his lips so close to mine, but always pulling away and bringing me upright again before we made contact. By the time Barry knew “there’s only one like you,” Josh had released me to stand center stage while he danced an arm’s length away. At last, Barry sang about his reality, and Josh reached for his waistband, his eyes smoldering me to ash.

As the song hit the final line, “You’re the first, you’re the last, my everything...”
Whoosh
! The pants flew off, leaving Josh in a pair of black silk boxer shorts decorated with hundreds of images of yellow rubber duckies.

Whatever sobriety I still possessed went over the cliff, and I broke into riotous laughter. In one quick stride, he got close enough to hook my waist and pull me into his arms. His lips captured mine. I wound my arms around his neck, and his hands traveled beneath my robe, pushing the heavy fabric out of the way. Cold air conquered the thin satin nightshirt I wore, and I shivered.

Josh pulled me tighter against him, hip to hip, chest to chest. Barry was winding down, murmuring, “You and me, baby,” and I thought to myself that no greater truth had ever been spoken. Josh’s skin was hot beneath my fingers, his mouth hard and demanding. I gave him all of me, my lips, my heart, my love. When we pulled apart, I don’t know which one of us was more breathless.

He spoke first. “Sorry I screwed it up a bit. I’ve been working on this a long time. Not long enough, though.”

A spark of jealousy lit up inside me, and I arched a brow. “With whom?”

“Ah, Frannie, you’ve got a fierce streak in ya. I like that. Relax. I could never dance with anyone but you. I’ve been watching videos on YouTube. But, if you’d stayed mad at me a little longer, I would’ve had more rehearsal time. I really wanted to be perfect for you.”

“You are perfect for me,” I murmured against his neck. Time to face facts. I was totally, hopelessly, crazy in love with this man.

“No. I was an idiot. I’m sorry. I had no right to make you choose between Desi and your job. You’re the best damn doctor in the state. If my sister did something stupid, there’s no one else in the world I’d rather have treat her. I knew I was an idiot five minutes after I drove away from you that day.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been calling you, leaving messages. You could’ve called me back, you know.”

“What? And ruin this surprise?” He shook his head. “Unh-unh. I was a major league idiot, which meant you needed a major league apology. Not a routine, ‘Oops, my bad.’” He gestured to the lights, the table, the boombox. “How’d I do?”

“I wish I would’ve known you were planning this tonight. Your mom brought me over a special gift last week. I could’ve waved those hundred dollar bills around to get you to dance closer to my table.”

I had hoped mentioning his mother might embarrass him, but I forgot this was a man standing in ridiculous boxer shorts in my backyard. He didn’t embarrass easily. In fact, he grinned and brushed off my remark. “Yeah, right. That old Korean tradition. Keep the money. We’ll put it in a trust fund for our first kid’s college education.”

A month ago, I might have gone screaming into the night at the mention of a future marriage with Josh. And kids. But now? Now, I laughed. Loud and joyful and without the slightest reservation. Mrs. C. had already convinced me. Once a Candolero man fell in love, he fell in love forever. Even if he first fell at the tender age of eight.

“God, I love your laugh!” Josh pulled me into his arms again. “In fact, I love
you
, Frannie.”

“I love you, Josh.” I snuggled closer and licked his earlobe, felt him shiver against me. “Come inside with me.”

He arched a brow. “You’re ready?”

With my arms around his neck, I fused my lips to his. Heat crackled from my hairline to my toes. I melted into a puddle of need. When I broke the kiss, delicious shivers rippled over my skin. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely ready.”

Smiling, he stepped back and gave me a gentle prod toward the back door. “Okay, then. Go. Let me turn this stuff off first. And here.” He picked up the cardboard cup. “Drink your tea. You’ll need the caffeine jolt.”

I winked. “I hope that’s a promise.”

Chapter 22

Emily

The part of me that never grew up loves Halloween. In Snug Harbor, there’s a nip in the air, gold and scarlet leaves paint the trees and fall onto the blacktop in scattered designs, and children dressed as superheroes and cartoon characters skip from house to house, their laughter ringing out behind them. Families gather with friends to trek the streets in search of the mother lode of candy.

For the first time since we were teens, Roy and I got to trick-or-treat together—with Luke and Gabriella, of course. We met up with Charlene Boyd and her kids at the corner where our two streets intersected. Dozens of Halloweens under our belts had given Charlene and me an enviable level of expertise at trick-or-treating. We always came prepared. I brought the wagon, a conveyance that would hold extra layers of clothing, costume props such as magic wands and pirate swords that were required for authenticity but grew cumbersome two houses into the journey, and the little ones themselves when they tired of walking. Charlene had responsibility for two Thermoses of hot chocolate: one for the kids with lots of marshmallows, one for the adults with a double shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream. With our two, plus the three Boyd kids, the adult hot chocolate usually disappeared before we reached the next block.

Today, our older children had their own agendas for celebrating the holiday.

Mellie had volunteered at her high school’s Halloween Helpers party. All the classrooms in the building, decorated by juniors and seniors, became themed rooms for underprivileged children to trick-or-treat in a safe location. This year, Mellie and her classmates in the science club had come up with an Under the Sea theme with scads of blue crepe paper dangling from the ceiling and papier-mâché coral reefs along the floor. The girls dressed as mermaids, the guys as lobsters, octopi, and other diverse ocean life while they passed out candy and goodies donated by local merchants.

Corey, who’d go out later with his friends, stayed at our house to hand out candy to our visiting trick-or-treaters while Roy and I escorted our little ones. The real draw there was Mowgli, our new pup—a Lab/shepherd mix reprieved from Death Row at the local animal shelter. We’d toyed with the pros and cons. We had always been a “dog family,” and since I was out on disability, I had the time to train a pup. We all understood Mowgli wasn’t a replacement for Freckles, who would always hold a special place in our hearts.

Since Roy was the new addition to our Halloween entourage, the children chose him to be the one to walk them up to each house and shout, “Trick or treat!” while Charlene and I hovered curbside.

At one point while they waited at someone’s door, she leaned close to murmur, “Looks like everything’s really good with you and Roy.”

I beamed. “You could say that.” Our counseling sessions had benefited us in dozens of ways. We’d learned to talk to each other, and more importantly to
listen
to each other. We still had a long way to go, but we’d make it. Together.

“And the kids?” Charlene continued. “The big ones, I mean. They’re happy, too?”

“Happy, healthy and helpful.” After my in-laws had gone home, Roy and I sat down with Mellie and Corey for a heart-to-heart-to-heart-attack-ravaged-heart. We discussed my doctor’s treatment plan, his recommendations for lowering my stress levels, and how they could help. While only a week or two had passed since then, the kids had started pitching in with enthusiasm. Sure, the entire episode was new and eventually, they might slack off, but over time, I’d get stronger, too. And I was already learning ways to communicate my needs to my family without swallowing gallons of resentment.             

Charlene, gaze pinned to our kids who were running up yet another driveway, clucked her tongue. “What a motley crew.”

While we strolled the autumn streets, fairy princess Gabriella and pirate Luke dragged plastic pumpkins weighed down with treats. I had my own treat in Roy. When he didn’t drape an arm over my shoulder to keep me close, he held my hand. Who needed spiked hot chocolate? I had my love to keep me warm.

“Maybe I should fake a heart attack,” Charlene mused. “See if I can get Marty and the kids to shape up and help out more.” Her brain must have caught up with her mouth a few seconds later because she waved a hand in front of her reddened face. “Not that you
faked
what happened to you...”

“Why don’t you start with an appointment with a family counselor?” I suggested. “Dr. Calderon has been a godsend to us.”

Luke’s joyful screech split the air, and I turned to see Roy hoisting his youngest son, up onto his broad shoulders. “All hail Luke, the pirate king!”

My heart fluttered—not from weakness, but from strength. The strength of love and family.

****

Francesca

The doorbell rang again, and Josh unwrapped himself from around me on the couch. “My turn.” He picked up the remote control and hit pause on our movie before striding to the foyer.

I took advantage of his distraction to watch his hips and butt as he walked away. Never, as long as I lived, would I forget his performance that chilly Saturday night—both on- and off-stage. What other man would go to such extremes—an exotic dance down to yellow ducky boxers in forty degree weather—to put a smile on my face?

No doubt about it. In love, there was someone for everyone. And my someone was Josh Candolero.

I continued to ogle his backside while he grabbed the bowl of candy and opened the front door.

“Trick or treat!” A chorus of children’s voices rang out.

“Here ya go,” he said as he passed out the bags of assorted chocolate bars we’d created yesterday. Shutting the door, he replaced the bowl and returned to the living room. “Where were we?”

I scooped up the remote control and hit play again. “Julia was about to tell Hugh she’s just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

“Excellent,” he exclaimed. “My favorite part.” He sat again and gathered me into his embrace. I snuggled close and purred my contentment. Craning his neck, he looked down at me. “You okay?”