Shine Your Love on Me (2 page)

Brooke bent down and petted Romeo, who was
lying at her feet. “You’re probably right.”

Miranda picked up the television remote.
“Let’s see what’s on. Maybe a movie. Do you have any popcorn?”

“I think so. And I just bought some chocolate
yesterday.” The two women found
The Holiday
. Brooke put the
popcorn in the microwave, and Miranda opened the box of
chocolates.

“Chocolate caramels, my favorite!” Miranda
took one out.

“Me, too. God, they’ll cure anything.”

“It’s not like everything is perfect in my
life, Brooke. I don’t want you to be where I am, that’s all.”

“You look like you’re doing okay.”

“Some days, maybe. Let’s not get into it. The
movie’s coming on,” Miranda said, turning her attention back to the
television. Brooke put the popcorn in a bowl, popped open a couple
of Cokes, and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

* * * *

Despite the cool, April air, Preston
Carpenter unzipped his black leather jacket. Running in Central
Park with three pugs had heated him up. The sun shone down on the
daffodils and tulips, making their yellows, reds, purples, and
pinks blaze. Pres parked his butt on a bench and doled out treats
to the waiting dogs.

Two of them, Fred and Ginger, belonged to
Ruth Quincy. Pres walked the pair every Sunday morning and often
during the week when he took his own pug, Buddy. The three played
well together. Pres enjoyed laughing at their antics. Ruth tried to
pay him, but he protested. He didn’t tell her that being near her
granddaughter, Brooke, was payment enough.

That Pres had developed a huge crush on
Brooke never ceased to embarrass him. She visited Ruth every Sunday
for brunch. Pres timed his pick-up and delivery of Freddy and
Ginger to coincide with Brooke’s visits, hoping to talk to her,
maybe ask her out. But when he did see her, he got tongue-tied, and
she brushed him off as the help, the dog walker, and nothing
more.

Her presence reduced him to a lovesick
thirteen-year-old, tripping over his own feet to open the door for
the woman of his dreams. He was frustrated.
I’m thirty,
experienced with women. Why does she affect me this way?

He checked his watch.
Only ten. She never
arrives before eleven.

“Okay, guys. We’ve got to kill another forty
minutes.” He pushed to his feet and led the dogs to a field
adjacent to the Great Lawn. He threw a
Cuz
ball, and they
ran around like crazy, chasing the oddly bouncing toy. After half
an hour, they stretched out on the grass, panting, to cool off.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Playtime’s over.” Pres
took hold of the leashes and led the pooches out of the park. They
arrived at Ruth’s building, The Huntington, a posh high-rise on
Central Park West. Rocky, the doorman, greeted Pres and petted the
animals. They got off the elevator on the twentieth floor. Ruth
opened the door as Pres unhooked the pugs, who ran immediately for
the water bowls in the kitchen.

“Would you like some coffee?” The slim,
attractive woman with stylish, short white hair smiled at him.
Dressed in khaki slacks, she wore a grass-green T-shirt that
brought out the green in her eyes—the same shade as her
granddaughter’s.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s up?”

“She’s not here yet. So I thought…”

“I see. You know, don’t you?” He sensed color
gathering in his cheeks.

“Of course. Why do you think I hired you to
walk the dogs? You’re perfect for her.”

“You know that, and I know that, but somebody
forgot to tell her.”

“Come.” Ruth took his arm and escorted him to
her dining table. It was laid out for a glamorous brunch with
Limoges china and sterling silver flatware. A silver tea service
was filled and waiting. She showed him to a chair then poured two
cups of coffee.

“Scone?” she asked, offering him a plate
piled high.

“Breaking bread with the help? What’ll Brooke
say?” He took one and broke off a piece.

“She
is
a bit of a snob, isn’t
she?”

He raised his eyebrows in response and
continued to chew.

“Her mother wasn’t like that at all. Brooke
needs to grow up. Stop this silliness and get back to her roots.”
Ruth shook her head then lightened her beverage with real
cream.

“What was her mother like?”

“Mary Lou was sweet. Gentle. A social worker
with the softest heart. She’d cry at the drop of a hat. Or laugh.
She loved calico cotton dresses, country and folk music, cooking
and sewing. And Brooke. She took after me.” Ruth’s pride was
unmistakable.

“What happened with Brooke?”

“She was ten when they died. It destroyed
her. She idolized her mother and father. They were a close family.
It was a fever that kept her from being in the car that day. I
thank God for that.” Ruth’s voice shook. She turned her gaze from
the window and stared into her cup.

The sound of a key in the lock interrupted
their private conversation. Brooke entered, wearing a pink, calico,
short-sleeved dress and a beige leather jacket. Her brow was
furrowed, and she appeared distracted.

She’s beautiful.
Pres’s stare traveled
slowly from her glossy, dark brown hair down to her pink flats. His
groin tightened slightly, and his mouth went dry.

She looked up, and their gazes met. But the
heat he’d hoped to see wasn’t there. “Hi, Pres. Didn’t expect you.”
She put a bag of bagels and smoked salmon on the table.

“Dear, dear. Put that on a platter. You’re
ruining the look of the table.”

“Sorry, Nan. I wasn’t thinking.” She marched
into the kitchen.

“You can stop drooling, Pres,” Ruth
whispered.

“She looks…today…oh my God.” He spoke in a
quiet voice, his eyes wide.

“Your day’ll come. Have faith.” Ruth poured a
cup for the young woman and refreshed the other two. Brooke joined
them, carrying a silver platter with the salmon, cream cheese, and
bagels artfully displayed. “That’s better, dear.”

“Looks beautiful,” Pres said. His blue eyes
tried to make contact with her green ones, but she kept her gaze on
her coffee.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“How was your week?” Ruth asked.

“Shitty. Oops, sorry, Nan.”

“That’s okay. I’m no prig.”

“Well, then. Shitty. Double shitty. Triple
shitty.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Of course, she doesn’t want to talk about
her shitty week in front of me. I should leave. I don’t belong
here.
He stood up. “Time to go. Buddy,” he called. The pug
responded, trotting into the dining room.

“Must you? You just got here.” Ruth’s brows
knitted.

“I’m sure he has other dogs to walk, Nan. We
shouldn’t keep him,” Brooke said, spreading cream cheese on half a
bagel.

“Actually, Ruth’s are the only dogs I walk…”
Pres said.

“Hope your business picks up.”

He shrugged and sighed.
She’s not
listening. Why do I bother? She’ll never notice me.
A heaviness
lodged in his legs, but he forced them to move. Ruth accompanied
him to the door. He stopped for a second to watch Brooke. She was
standing at the window, munching on her food. His gaze roamed over
her body. At six two, he preferred taller women, like Brooke. He
guessed her to be about five foot seven or eight. Short girls made
him feel like he was dating a little kid.

Her dress bunched slightly around her
breasts. His fingertips tingled when he looked at them. He gauged
they’d be a good fit in his hands. The neckline revealed a little
cleavage, making his groin tighten even more. She leaned slightly,
raising her hem.
Long, lean legs.
Perfect.
And a rear
end that wasn’t too small or too big. He sighed. Making love to her
would be a dream come true.

As if she sensed his stare, she turned and
shot a small smile his way. He could feel a blush steal into his
cheeks.
Being caught gawking at her like a teenager with a
boner. Smooth, Preston, real smooth.
He lifted his hand in a
feeble wave before he headed for the elevator with Buddy in
tow.

* * * *

Brooke bit into her bagel slathered with
cream cheese and topped with salmon. Finishing her story to Nan had
raised her appetite. She’d had to edit carefully, so as not to
shock her grandmother. Still, she’d got the gist across.

“Caught fooling around in the office by a
client? Wow, Brooke,” Nan said.

Brooke choked on a small bite, coughing it
up, her face heated.

“Thought you could fool me with all that
crap…that round-about explanation? Honey, I’m no stranger to sex.
How do you think your mother got here?”

“TMI, Nan.” Brooke took a drink of
coffee.

“Don’t give me any bullshit. Tell it
straight. I’m too old for all that nicey-nicey garbage. Nothing but
the facts.”

“Okay. Yeah. Lloyd was getting…frisky.”

“Why should your client care? It was after
hours. You’re both single. You two are dating…unless, she’s got a
thing for him. Though I don’t know how that could be.” Nan cut her
half bagel in half again.

“No editorializing. I know you don’t like
Lloyd. That’s okay. But I do.”

“Such poor taste for a Quincy,” Nan
muttered.

“He’s so…so…”

“So what? So not good enough for you. And you
turn your nose up at Pres Carpenter.”

“He’s nice. He’s cute. But he’s a dog walker,
Nan. Lloyd has ambition, a future.”

“So does Pres. He’s not a dog walker. He just
does that for me. He’s a writer. And he made a significant sale on
a movie script, too.”

“Did he? Then when’s the movie coming
out?”

“He didn’t say. But it was a six figure
sale.”

“Lloyd makes six figures every year. He’s a
management supervisor and maybe, someday, president of the
agency.”

“Well, la-di-da! President of a company that
does something with no value in this world—create advertising! What
a waste of time, Brooke. At least Pres is creative. He writes.
Lloyd is a bloodsucker, like all advertising people.”

“Like me? I’m in advertising.”

“Not like you. Your career in advertising is
simply a temporary lapse in judgment.”

“Temporary? I’ve been at it for four
years.”

“Temporary, yes. You’ll come to your
senses.”

“Will I? I intend to make a success of it.
Not like my parents, who could barely scrape together the money for
rent and food.”

“At least they did something worth doing.
They helped people.”

“Yeah? They were real responsible. They
smoked pot. Smoked pot and drove. That’s real responsible.”

“That was a long time ago. Brooke, you have
to forgive them.”

“Forgive them? They’re not here when I need
them. They haven’t been here for eighteen years. You think it’s
been easy, having no parents?”

“You had me.”

“I know. I don’t mean to put you down. But
when everyone else had a mom and dad, I didn’t. I needed them. And
they were selfish and careless, so they died. I miss them every
day.” As her voice rose, tears clouded Brooke’s eyes. She pushed
away from the table. Freddy and Ginger barked. Brooke went into the
bathroom to splash cold water on her face.

When she returned, Ruth was finishing her
coffee. Brooke took a deep breath and sat down. “I’m sorry,
Nan.”

Ruth squeezed Brooke’s hand. “Don’t
apologize. I understand. They made a mistake. But you must forgive
them. Look at what they’re missing—all these wonderful years with
you. At least you’re still here. You can make a difference in the
world. Do the things they didn’t have time to do.”

“I’m going to. I’m going to be responsible
and earn a bucket of money. I’m going to be a success in the
corporate world.”

“Ack! That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m going to take after Grandpa.”

“Grandpa wasn’t a very nice person, Brooke.
He squeezed people, made money at the expense of his humanity.”

“And look at this place. What he provided for
you. You should be grateful.”

“I am. I love my home. But I wish he could’ve
done it by being a nicer person. I think he could have. He got
sucked into the power thing.”

“You married him, Nan.”

“He wasn’t like that when we first started
dating. He was the most idealistic man.” She sighed as a small
smile played on her lips.

“So what happened?”

“He was going to run for office, make a
difference that way. After deciding he’d raise the money himself so
he wouldn’t be beholden to backers, he got carried away with the
money-making part and forgot about the politics.”

“Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“I didn’t want to trash him to you, sweetie.
He was good to me, but not to others.”

“I’m not going to be mean. Smart, instead.
I’m going to be so good at what I do, no one can afford to fire
me.”

Ruth smiled at her granddaughter. “I only
want you to be happy.”

“I will.” Brooke fingered the cotton fabric
of her skirt. “I love this dress. I think it’s my favorite of
Mom’s.”

“It’s perfect on you. You look like her.”
Ruth cupped her cheek.

“Except for the Felson nose.”

Ruth laughed. “I know you dress like this for
me. It does make me happy to see you wear Mary Lou’s things.”

“They remind me of Mom, too.”

“You’re a beautiful girl, Brooke. You don’t
need that sleazy Lloyd.”

“I want him. He’s okay. You’ll see.”

Ruth sighed. “Go your own way, then. I wish
you luck.”

They finished their meal. Brooke stowed the
leftover food in the fridge and leashed the dogs “Shall I take them
for a walk?”

Ruth checked her watch. “That’d be grand.
Mary’s coming over to watch
Mr. Lucky
with me. They never
watch Cary Grant movies at the senior center, and her roommate is
napping. Thank you, dear.”