Sunset Bridge (9 page)

She wondered if the child she was carrying would resemble this boy she had grown so fond of, and for a moment, she couldn’t think of another thing to add to her greeting.

“Gotta get to practice.” Bay waved his swim team bag. “Today we’re going to dive. A lot.”

“Don’t forget to come back up,” she told him, ruffling his hair, “or at least clean the pool floor while you’re down there.” He took off down the hall, and she watched him for a moment, composing herself before she turned to his father.

“So, what are you doing here?” She leaned over and kissed Marsh’s cheek. He wasn’t on his way to or from the courthouse; in fact, he was even more casually dressed than he was at the Wild Florida offices. Then she noticed the big clue: the racquet he held at his side. The other man had one, too.

“Racquetball,” she said, answering her own question. “Did I know you played?”

“Don’t very often. Tracy, meet Blake Armstrong. Blake’s the brother of an old law school friend.”

“The bridge builder?” She held out her hand. “Tracy Deloche. Welcome to the rec center.”

“Tracy’s a supervisor here,” Marsh said. “She keeps Bay in line.”

Tracy waited for him to explain further, to stake a claim of some sort, since Blake was looking at her appreciatively as he shook. But “supervisor” was as far as Marsh got.

“I try,” Tracy said, “although it would take an army to whip that boy into shape.”

“She’s fond of him,” Marsh said. He looked at her, then at Blake, who hadn’t dropped her hand. He finally seemed to get it. “And of
me,
” he added.

Tracy felt the way she had the night CJ proposed. All glittery inside, with visions of a long happy life together.

“Although not so much lately,” he added.

Blake dropped her hand. “Your loss,” he told Marsh.

Tracy narrowed her eyes. “Your
fault
. Your…oysters.”

“Tracy’s been under the weather and she’s blaming a virus on me,” Marsh explained. “If she weren’t, she’d beat your butt at racquetball. She’s an athlete.”

Tracy was just a whit mollified. “How long do you expect to be in town, Blake?”

“My colleagues and I are moving into a house out on the key, not far from Marsh’s. We’ll make it our office, and a couple of us will live upstairs, too, until the bridge is so far along we aren’t needed on-site every day.”

“I live out on the key, too. At the other end. You’ll like it.” She started to say something else, when she saw a familiar figure approaching.

“Hey, Maggie!” She waved the woman down. Maggie had a pie carrier in her hand, and Tracy wondered if Wanda had sent samples to the rec center staff, as she sometimes did when she wanted opinions. She was glad to see Maggie looking perfectly normal. She’d heard that Maggie’s ex had found her on Saturday, and she’d been debating whether to check on her or leave her alone to regroup.

Normally the sight of Wanda’s pie carriers was a moment for internal rejoicing, but not so much today. In fact, the idea of pie was wrestling with the reality of the two slices of
buttered toast and carton of yogurt she had managed to eat that morning. Quickly she averted her eyes.

She couldn’t even enjoy Wanda’s pies. She hoped, when the baby was born, she didn’t hold this against the kid.

“Tracy,” Maggie said with a nod. She stopped beside Blake and Marsh. “Mom wants opinions. I gather it’s not the first time?”

“What do you have?”

“Chocolate Truffle.”

Tracy’s stomach flipped.

“And Tantalizing Tangerine,” Maggie finished. “She’s not too high on either, but she wants feedback.”

“Marsh, This is Maggie Gray,” Tracy said, and finished the introductions. “Wanda and Ken’s daughter,” she added.

“I’m a fan of your mom,” Marsh said, shaking Maggie’s hand after she transferred the carrier.

“So am I,” Maggie said. “You gotta love my mom.”

“Why?” Blake asked, offering his own hand. He seemed as interested in Maggie as he had been in Tracy, before Marsh had finally asserted himself.

Maggie was looking him over and seemed to like what she saw. “When I was a kid in Doral,” she said, “there was a regular Wanda Gray fan club on our street. She fattened up every kid on the block. They’re probably all cursing her now, but back then, anybody who needed consolation showed up on our front porch for pie.”

“You grew up in Miami?” he asked.

“Did. You must know the city.”

“Do.” He grinned. “I grew up there, too.”

Maggie and Blake began to compare memories. Tracy thought maybe Maggie had found someone to help take her
mind off her ex. Marsh put his hand under her arm and propelled her away for privacy.

“You feeling any better?”

“Definitely. But not a hundred percent.”

“Are you going to the doctor, or do I have to drag you?”

“I’ve got an appointment.” Although not with the doctor he expected. “Time to be checked over anyway.”

“Want me to stop by and check on you tonight? I’ve got some chicken soup in the freezer.”

The soup sounded good; the visit did not. She was still too prone to emergency toilet trips, and Marsh wasn’t stupid.

“Rain check,” she said. “Ten-hour day ahead. I’ll just want to go to bed.”

“That could be arranged.”

This was the moment to be seductive, to say something that left him wanting what he wasn’t about to get. The prepregnant Tracy would have had a choice of quips. The one whose vision of chocolate truffle pie was still nibbling at a stomach that had been at least temporarily calm couldn’t think of anything except…

“Not tonight, okay?”

“Gotcha.”

She rested her fingertips on his arm. “Let’s do something next week.”

“It’s only Tuesday, Trace.”

She wondered why it felt so much later. “This weekend?”

“I’m feeling all fuzzy-gooey inside at how excited you are.”

“Be a good guy and don’t hassle me. I remember a few times when you were so busy you didn’t even have time to call me for days at a stretch. Okay? Isn’t that part of being in a relationship? A little patience?”

“Are we in a relationship?”

Tears threatened. She couldn’t believe it. She seemed prone to cry over everything these days. She swallowed and hoped he hadn’t seen the evidence.

“Not if you don’t want to be,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “What I
meant
was if I don’t ever see you, it’s hard to remember who you are.”

“Is that really what you meant?”

“I’m listening so hard to the subtext here, I forgot what we were discussing.”

She sighed. “How’s Friday night?”

“I’ll be at a conference.”

“You could have said so!”

“I’ll be back Saturday afternoon. I’ll call you when I get in. We’ll see how you’re feeling.” He reached for a lock of her hair, twined it around his finger for a moment and tugged. “Work for you?”

She nodded and hoped it did. That gave her four days to start feeling human again. Maybe she would set a record.

Maggie and Blake still had their heads together, but Maggie was shifting the carrier as if she was preparing to leave.

“I’ll show you where the staff lounge is,” Tracy told her, glad to have a reason to split.

Quick goodbyes, and the men started off toward the racquetball courts. Maggie stood a moment and watched them go.

“He seems nice,” she said.

“Marsh or Blake?”

“Both.”

“Blake looked like he wanted to eat you alive. There’s probably going to be a lot of that going around.”

Maggie smiled at her. “I could use the diversion.”

Tracy watched Marsh’s retreating figure. “If diversion works to put another man out of your head, be sure and let me know.”

O
n Friday morning Wanda gestured to three pies on the counter in front of her. “Well, I got three pies I can show Phillip,” she told Maggie. “That rec center staff’s as good as any focus group some fancy marketing person could have put together for me.”

Maggie wasn’t sure what part of that statement impressed her the most. That her mother had, after hours of testing, come up with three pies that satisfied her, or that Wanda knew about focus groups. She’d never doubted her mother was smart, but she’d had some doubts about her ability to learn new things. Clearly, everything about the move from Miami to Palmetto Grove Key had been a learning experience.

“I’m glad you axed Tantalizing Tangerine,” Maggie said.

“That’s the thing about ideas. Not all of them are good, and you have to know the difference, which is the hard part. At least Chocolate Truffle is good enough to sell in the store, just not good enough for the Shrimp’s menu.”

“Phillip might like it. It’s so rich he could cut the slices smaller and get more for his money.”

“We’ll see if he likes these other ones first. I just wish I had a better name for this one.” Wanda pointed to the last pie in the row, a towering creation filled with walnuts, chocolate chips and coconut. “Seven-Layer Pie doesn’t much do it for me.”

Maggie figured that her mother’s three new creations probably totaled a week’s worth of calories. She was afraid if she worked at the shop too long, she was going to start packing on the pounds. At least she had joined the rec center at Tracy’s suggestion and could spend evenings working out now. In addition to the health value, the pool and weight room would give her a place to go.

The door opened and she glanced up, expecting to see Phillip Callander. Instead, Blake Armstrong walked through the door, looking considerably different than he had earlier in the week at the rec center. She wondered if he had come to Wanda’s Wonderful Pies to make an order or a date. The question was more academic than personal, although at least the second would give her something to do some evening besides laps in the rec center pool.

“Hey,” he said, homing in on her immediately and bypassing Wanda. “This place smells like heaven. Did I die without realizing it? Hmm…pies in the sky, huh? My kind of heaven.”

“Darn it, that’s what we’ll call it!” Wanda clapped her hands together, and Maggie jumped. “Pie in the Sky. Who is this guy?”

Maggie introduced them.

Blake shook Wanda’s hand. “If I named one, I guess that’s the one I’ll have to buy.”

“Can’t. It’s a sample, but we got plenty else to interest you.” She glanced at Maggie. “Maggie will give you the tour. I’ve got things to do in the back. Nice meeting you.”

They were quickly alone. Maggie shook her head, fully aware that her mother was trying to give them some privacy. “So, want to go over the list?” She nodded to the chalkboard behind her.

“Just tell me your personal favorite. We’re moving in today, and a celebration seems in order.”

“Key lime’s always the most popular. Today’s version has a shortbread crust.”

“Sounds great. I’ll take one.”

She got a pie out of the refrigerator case and boxed it for him. Then she took Blake’s credit card and rang up the order. “You’re looking different. I really like the haircut.”

“I clean up okay?”

She taped the box to ensure a safe delivery. “You do indeed.” Blake was freshly shaved, too, and his hair was now tamed into masculine curls.

He had a nice smile, and she found herself responding to it. It wasn’t alluring or seductive, like Felo’s, but open and friendly, like the smile of someone who was used to being liked.

“I don’t see a ring,” he said, his gaze flicking to her left hand.

“No reason for one.”

“Am I poaching if I ask you to a party tomorrow night?”

Maggie was not a party girl. She liked smallish dinners with friends, backyard picnics and barbecues. She thought she owned a little black dress, but if she did, it was hanging in a closet in Little Havana.

“Nothing formal,” he said, reading her expression. “Just something simple to get us all off on the right foot in town.”

She felt herself nodding before she knew she’d decided. “May I bring something?”

“We have it covered. I’ll pick you up at six.”

She handed him the box and told him where to find her. As he left the shop, Phillip Callander and another man, as thin as a pretzel stick and roughly the same color, squeezed around him and came inside. Maggie called for Wanda.

Her mother corralled her before she could head to the kitchen. “Stay,” Wanda hissed quietly.

Maggie didn’t smile, but she wanted to. Her brazen, in-your-face mother clearly needed support.

Phillip reached the counter and grasped Wanda’s hand, sandwiching it between his. “Wanda, meet Larry Bly. Larry’s the line producer for
Sunset Bridge
. He’s in town firming up arrangements. I told him about you, and he just had to come meet you himself.”

“Our success hinges on you,” Larry said, grabbing Wanda’s other hand for a moment. “Pie could make or break us.”

For a moment Wanda looked like a gator trying to cross the busy Tamiami Trail: confused and ready to dodge anything that moved. Then she shook her head, as if untangling cobwebs. “You’re having some fun with me, aren’t you?”

Phillip dropped her hand and started to speak, but Larry interrupted. “Maybe I overstated it a tad, but it’s my job to keep Deke happy, and nothing makes him happier than pie. Phillip tells me he’ll love yours.”

“Deke?”

“That’s what Derek’s friends call him.”

“Well, there aren’t any guarantees, are there? The man’s a
pie connoisseur, he probably has some strong ideas what he likes or doesn’t.”

Phillip waved that away. “Don’t trouble yourself, Wanda. The man will move here for good just to eat his way through your list.”

Maggie was glad she hadn’t left. Somebody had to tell this story at the next family gathering, and who would believe it if it came from Wanda herself?

Wanda didn’t say anything, which was the only clue Maggie needed to the way her mother was feeling. Wanda pulled out the three new pies she’d set out for Phillip and took down plates, forks and her best pie server. Then she cut each man a small slice of the first, the Citrus Sunrise she’d worked so hard on all weekend.

“Try this and see what you think,” she said, already cutting into the Dancing Dulce, a riff on
dulce de leche
, a Latin American treat Wanda had, ironically, been introduced to by Felo.

By the third pie, Wanda’s newly named Pie in the Sky, the men looked as if Christmas had come early and Santa had been particularly generous.

“I really thought I might have to fly in pie from Deke’s favorite restaurant in L.A.,” Larry said. “But this is spectacular. He’s going to love you. You’ll come to the house where he’ll be living and make pies if he’s entertaining? Please say you can be bought.”

“Almost any woman can be bought if the price is high enough,” Wanda said, winking.

“He loves to meddle in the kitchen. Watching you make pie will keep him happy. We love it when that happens. I’m making room for this in my budget. Lots of room. You won’t be sorry.”

“I’ll be thrilled to have these on my menu,” Phillip said,
sweeping his hand over the pies on the counter. “Between us, we’re going to put the Dancing Shrimp on the map, Wanda. You wait and see.”

Maggie watched as the men said goodbye and left; then Wanda turned to her. “You saw that?”

“I did.”

“I’m not imagining this?”

Maggie stepped forward and gave her mother a hug.

By three o’clock Tracy knew she had to hang up her sneakers and crawl home. On Fridays she usually stayed until the last kid in the after-school program had been picked up and the swim-team coach assured her that practice was over. But there was plenty of staff to make sure those things went as planned, and she was too exhausted to look at more paperwork. She had finally seen the obstetrician that morning, and although nothing surprising had come from her first visit—Tracy was fine, the nausea was normal, the baby was due in early May—the whole experience had worn her to a nub.

She had heard the baby’s heartbeat. That had been a surprise, even though she’d known she might. But the amplified
rat-a-tat
had been absolutely clear, and she’d been there alone listening to it, with only her doctor keeping her company. She knew any of her friends would have been glad to go along, but she also knew she had no right to ask. She’d gotten herself into this, and the man who had helped her didn’t yet know he was a father again. If anyone should have been with her, it was Marsh. And that revelation was the most exhausting part of the day. Knowing she’d cheated Marsh of that moment and not yet being willing to change that.

Now she gathered her things and said goodbye to Gladys, who congratulated her for taking care of herself for a change.
Then she dragged herself out to her soon-to-be-vintage Bimmer, which the feds hadn’t bothered to impound when they took everything else she and CJ had owned in California, and turned up the radio so she wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel.

Once on the key, she slowed as she neared home. She passed the foundation of what had once been the office for Happiness Haven, the tourist camp that had originally occupied the property. The owners had harbored big plans for development, none of which had come to fruition. Most of the cottages had already been gone when CJ bought the land to construct a luxury condo complex and marina and optimistically renamed it Happiness Key. The sign CJ had commissioned still marked the beginning of Tracy’s property, but now it lay on its back, staring up at the blue Florida sky.

The conservation easement with Wild Florida meant keeping Happiness Key was possible, but only just. The contractor interested in taking the whole property off her hands had called her at the center that morning to sweeten his offer by thousands. She hadn’t told him yes or no. She’d just wondered how many big decisions one woman could make when she was both hungry and nauseated.

“Janya.” Tracy found herself stopping in front of the Indian woman’s house before she could figure out why. She certainly wasn’t going to tell her friend about the doctor’s visit and make her feel sad again. She sat for a moment and wondered why she was there, but the answer wasn’t difficult. She was never with Janya when she didn’t feel better afterward. Talking to her was like sitting next to a cool flowing stream. Though she was the youngest woman in the development, Janya wasn’t young in insight.

She stepped out of the car and saw that Olivia was heading
up the road in her direction. Immediately she felt better. Watching Alice’s granddaughter grow up was a bonus Tracy had never expected when she moved to Florida.

“Hey, Olivia,” Tracy said when Olivia was almost to her. “How’s school these days?”

“I like it.” Olivia was wearing a jean jacket over a ruffled pink skirt and matching high-top sneakers with no laces. Her hair was off her neck in two pigtails. Tracy had helped her shop before school began, and then they’d gone to see the latest Harry Potter movie, with Olivia catching her up on all the previous films. Afterward Tracy had gone to the library and read her way through the series because, clearly, she needed to know more. For the kids at the rec center, of course. Just for them.

“You’re looking great,” Tracy said, pointing down. “Love the shoes.”

Olivia, at an age where looking good was half the battle, smiled her thanks. “I…well, I wondered if…”

Olivia was beginning to sound a little too much like her grandmother, but her agile brain wasn’t the problem. Tracy smiled encouragement.

“There’s a mother-daughter softball game at school in a couple of weeks. And, well, I wondered if you’d be my…” Olivia shrugged.

“Mother?”

“Well, everybody will know you aren’t. But you could be my grown-up friend.”

Tracy could see the dilemma. Alice couldn’t do this. She was not Olivia’s mother, she was Olivia’s grandmother, and not a young one at that. She had recovered as well as could be expected from the stroke, but running bases was not in the
cards. Nor was pitching or playing third base. Tracy wasn’t sure her aging friend was up to swinging a bat, either.

Yet here was Olivia, who needed a young mother and would again in the future. And this time she was asking Tracy to stand in for the one who had died, most likely at the hands of Olivia’s own father.

Tracy felt her throat tighten. She imagined her nauseated self running bases, but despite that, she knew she couldn’t say no.

“I am
so
hot on a softball field,” she said. “We moms are going to cream you daughters.”

Olivia’s face lit up as if she’d swallowed the sun. “Great!”

“Does Alice know you’re asking me?”

Olivia sobered. “I didn’t really tell her about the game. Not yet.”

“She’ll want to be there.”

“Maybe not. She…well, she feels bad she can’t do everything, you know? She’s doing a lot. Like too much. I…just don’t want her feeling worse. I thought maybe…”

The girl wasn’t going to tell Alice. Tracy could hear it in her voice. Olivia was perceptive and thoughtful, and Tracy realized she was feeling guilty about all her grandmother was required to do for her. Olivia was afraid this would make Alice feel inadequate. Or at least that’s what Tracy was guessing.

“She adores you,” Tracy said. “She won’t feel one bit bad I’m the one on the field. She’ll be glad you asked me. Do you want me to tell her?”

“I’ll do it.”

They talked about the date of the game, and Tracy promised to put it on her calendar. Then Olivia gave her a spontaneous hug and turned for home.

Janya, in a pink flowered sundress, met her on the front steps. “You decided not to work so long today?”

“I just pooped out. I’m on my way home for a nap, but I thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

“You need tea. Come have some with me.”

“I’m not drinking tea these days. Or coffee. Or alcohol.”

“Cold water, then. And sympathy.”

Tracy followed her inside. The tiny house was filled with plants and murals. An impressionistic Taj Mahal dominated one wall, and the last time Tracy had seen Janya’s bedroom, a jungle scene complete with tigers had nearly leaped off the wall. Unlike some landlords, she was happy her tenant liked to paint. Tracy would never be called on to freshen up Janya’s house.