Silence of the Flans Read online

  Why hadn’t Jay returned either of her calls over the last thirty-six hours?

  A familiar, staccato thumping let her know Mr. Nelson was en route to her side, cane in hand. Still, she kept her eyes closed for fear he’d see her tears. “She’ll come around, Winnie Girl, you wait and see.”

  “You mean like Lovey has?” She hated the sarcasm in her voice and did her best to soften its impact by squeezing the man’s hand.

  “Sometimes the heart takes a while to catch up with the head, Winnie Girl. Especially when there’s still hurt at play.”

  “Hurt?” she asked, opening her eyes.

  “Yes, hurt. For Lovey, it’s the loss of Gertie. I don’t care what anyone says, animals form attachments to their owners and their routines every bit as much as the owners form attachments to them.” Mr. Nelson squeezed her hand, only this time he didn’t release his grip until he was sure he had Winnie’s full attention. “Yes, you’ve given her a nice new home with ample sun spots to roll around in, and yes, you feed her every day. But you’re still not Gertie.”

  Her deceased friend flitted through her thoughts and necessitated another round of rapid blinking to keep the tears at bay. “And I’ll never be Gertie, Mr. Nelson. I’m just the person Gertie tasked with caring for Lovey.”

  “That’s right. But Gertie was sharp as a tack until the day she passed. She chose you to be Lovey’s new momma for a reason. When you find yourself doubting that, think about that vintage ambulance she left you, too. That’s worked out, hasn’t it?”

  She could only nod. Without the second bequest and the opportunity it afforded to start her Emergency Dessert Squad, Winnie would have been forced to hang up her measuring spoons and baking pans for good. Maybe Mr. Nelson was right. Maybe Lovey would come around in time . . .

  “Jay’s daughter isn’t much different,” he continued. “Only her hurt is even bigger. Her mother walked out on her when she was in kindergarten, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it’s just been her and her dad ever since, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe she’s just slow to warm up. Like Lovey.”

  She made a face. “Lovey warmed up to you and Bridget without any difficulty.”

  “She’d seen us before. When we spent time with Gertie.”

  “If you go with that logic, Lovey had seen me before, too. Many times.” Winnie tugged her mousy brown ponytail over her shoulder and fiddled with the ends as she took Mr. Nelson’s words a step further. “Here’s the ironic thing. Lovey and Caroline hit it off the second they met. Likewise, they both despised me the second I showed up.”

  “Why don’t you share a drop of whipped cream from one of your desserts with Lovey the next time you have a little left over. See what happens.” Mr. Nelson shifted his weight from one leg to the other with the help of his cane and then tapped the index finger of his free hand on the tip of Winnie’s nose. “As for that young girl, I’m not saying her being territorial is okay, because it isn’t. But it’s a little understandable in light of her background, too. So just keep being yourself, Winnie Girl, and eventually your light will shine through the hurt. For Lovey, and for that young fella’s daughter.”

  She cleared her throat of its on-again, off-again lump once and for all and studied Mr. Nelson through the renewed haze in her eyes. “And if it doesn’t? Shine through, I mean?”

  “You walk away.” Bridget stood, shuffled her way to the railing, and flanked Winnie on the other side. “Just like you did when that good-for-nothing landlord of yours raised the rent on your bakery. You were devastated when you closed Delectable Delights for good. I saw it. Parker saw it. But here you are—back on your feet and better than ever.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Winnie whispered.

  “Okay, so maybe not better than ever—yet. But you’re on your way. Of that I have no doubt. Nick Batkas did you a favor making it so you couldn’t afford that lease. You might not have known it at the time, but he did. You mark my words.” Bridget hooked her finger under Winnie’s chin and turned it so they were eye to eye. “As for the rest of us, all we can do right now is hope and pray that our elected officials get wise to Mr. Batkas before our wonderful little town slips past the point of recovery.”

  Winnie felt Mr. Nelson stiffen beside her. “What’s that scoundrel up to now?”

  Mindful of the fact that she had information Mr. Nelson and Winnie lacked, Bridget took a moment to remove her glasses, wipe them with a soft cloth from the pocket of her floral housecoat, and then reposition them atop the bridge of her bulbous nose. “I think the more appropriate question, Parker, is what is he not up to . . .”

  Chapter 2

  She’d just cracked the spine on the paperback mystery novel she’d been waiting to read for days when the phone began to ring. For a split second she considered ignoring it and letting the call go to voice mail, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t wired that way. Besides, her personal cell phone wasn’t always just for personal use these days.

  Sighing, she flipped the book onto the arm of the overstuffed chair and crossed to the kitchen. A glance at the caller ID screen yielded a familiar name and a mental image so clear the woman may as well have been standing in front of her at that very moment.

  “Hey, Renee, what’s up?”

  Renee Ballentine was, in a word, nuts. She was also funny, creative, loyal, supportive, beautiful in an eccentric, quirky kind of way, a hardworking if not punctual employee, a devoted single mother to her ten-year-old son, Ty, and a great friend. The fact that she was relentless when it came to Winnie’s lack of interest in dating (until Jay, of course) and flirted shamelessly with Mr. Nelson despite their forty-year age difference, were really just minor flaws in the grand scheme of things . . .

  “Whatcha doing?” Renee asked in her usual on-the-go breathless manner.

  “Talking to you.”

  “Ha. Ha. Funny.”

  Winnie walked to the front window and peeked out at the comings and goings on Serenity Lane. Halfway down the street she spotted Peggy Landon, Serenity Lane’s oldest resident, in an animated conversation with Mr. Nelson. Hands were moving, canes were swinging, and a folded newspaper rose up between them every few minutes.

  “Winnie?”

  At the sound of her name, she shook her head and wandered back to the kitchen table and its bench seat. “I was actually getting ready to read that book I bought when I dragged you through Silver Lake Books that one day.”

  “I don’t remember going into the bookstore with . . .” Renee’s voice trailed off only to return with an audible hint of shock. “Wait. That was like three months ago. You haven’t read that yet?”

  Winnie dropped onto the bench and ran her finger across the cover of her idea notebook. “Let’s take stock of those three months, shall we? When I wasn’t at the bakery, I was home trying to figure out how to keep the bakery. And then, when the money we thought Gertie had left me turned out to be an ambulance, I was kind of consumed by other things—like how to pay my rent and eat.”

  “An ambulance and a cat.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Renee sighed in her ear. “When the money we thought Gertie had left you turned out to be an ambulance and a cat. You always forget the cat. No wonder Lovey is reluctant to embrace you.”

  She snorted. Loudly. “You are kidding, right?”

  “No.”

  Pulling her finger off the notebook, she surveyed her immediate surroundings—the hammock-like bed attached to the windowsill, the matching food and water bowl atop a princess placemat, and the living room blanket that had once been Winnie’s favorite now covered in brown and white fur. “Have you been wearing blinders the past six weeks, Renee? Lovey has all but taken over my entire apartment.”

  “She’s waiting for your love, Winnie. She’s waiting for your love.”

  “How muc
h more love does she need?” Winnie dropped her forehead onto the table and groaned. “Actually, can we talk about something else? Please?”

  “Sure. Why, when the troublemaker is otherwise occupied, is Jay holed up in his office instead of there with you? Are you two really that inept at the notion of seizing opportunities?”

  She jerked her head up so hard she nearly fell over the back side of the bench. “Wait. How do you know Jay is at his office?”

  “Because Ty and I went for a bike ride a few hours ago and we passed him as he was pulling into the faculty parking lot. The troublemaker wasn’t with him.”

  Pivoting on the bench, Winnie stood and made her way back into the living room, the book she’d been so eager to read no longer holding any allure. “You really need to stop calling Caroline that. I’m afraid it’s going to stick.”

  “As it should.” Renee laughed and then got back on point. “Anyway, when he saw us, he stopped and rolled down the window. He looked absolutely wiped out, Winnie, like he hasn’t slept in days. Is everything okay with him? Has he been sick?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” Renee echoed. “Why not?”

  Winnie swallowed. “Um, because we haven’t talked in a few days.”

  Silence filled her ear for so long, Winnie actually pulled the phone from her cheek to check the connection.

  Nope, Renee was still there . . .

  “Renee?”

  “What am I going to do with you, Winnie?”

  “Do with me?”

  “Yes. You have a guy who is crazy about you. And you, by some miracle, actually seem interested in him as well. Yet just when I think I can step back and let you handle things from this point on, you say something like that.”

  She felt her lower jaw begin to slack and did her best to bring it back in line with the rest of her mouth. “Say something like what exactly?”

  “That you haven’t talked to him in a few days.”

  “I haven’t,” she repeated.

  “I heard you the first time. What you’ve failed to say, though, is why. Did you have a fight?”

  “No.”

  “Did you say something about the kid that irked him?”

  “No!” She reclaimed the chair she’d abandoned to take Renee’s call and let her head loll back against the cushion. “He—he hasn’t called.”

  “So you call him!”

  Minus the voice, it was the same sentiment she’d heard in her own head countless times over the past few days. “I don’t want to force myself on him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hmmm, maybe because his kid hates me? Maybe he’s decided he’s not interested? I don’t know, take your pick.”

  “See, I’m leaning more towards you’re a loon.”

  There’s that . . .

  To Renee, though, she said, “He hasn’t called, Renee. At all.”

  “Okay, so he hasn’t called. That doesn’t mean he’s not interested. In fact, based on the way he looked a few hours ago, I’d say he hasn’t called because something else is going on. Something that’s stressing him out.”

  She tightened her grip on the phone while she mentally dissected everything Renee had said thus far. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, Winnie, maybe one of the half dozen or so things that make being an adult difficult—bills, teenagers, ex-spouses, work, et cetera, et cetera.”

  It made sense. It really did. But still . . .

  “What happens if it’s what I said? That he’s lost whatever interest he may have had in me?”

  “Then you pity him and you move on. The latter of which you can’t do if you stick your nose in a book and opt to guess instead of know.” Renee stopped and took a distinctive inhale. “C’mon. You’re Winnie Johnson. Never in all the time I’ve known you have you balked at a challenge. You’re tough. You’re resilient.”

  Tough . . .

  Resilient . . .

  Before she could formulate a response, Renee continued, “Based on what he said, he’s going to be in his office for the rest of the evening . . .”

  • • •

  One good thing about making a run out to Silver Lake College on a Sunday evening was the overabundance of available parking spots that were a rare commodity during normal school hours. Still, Winnie took her time as she drove up one row and down the next, visually scouring every utilized space for confirmation that Renee had, indeed, been right.

  She rounded the corner and headed down the last row, her gaze immediately drawn to the four-door white sedan tucked beneath the branches of one of several dozen Bradford Pear Trees that had graced the campus with their gorgeous white flowers for the last several weeks.

  Gathering her courage in one large breath, Winnie pulled the ambulance into the spot next to Jay’s, cut the engine, and stared up at the Cully Business Building and, in particular, the lone lit window on the fourth floor.

  Not for the first time since she hung up the phone with Renee, she found herself questioning the spurts of conviction that had propelled her to tear through her favorite cookbooks and her pantry for just the right icebreaker. Though why there was suddenly ice that needed to be broken between her and Jay was a complete mystery.

  She rose upward in her seat and studied her reflection in the rearview mirror. Somehow, despite being surrounded by desserts nearly twenty-four/seven, her face was still slim, a by-product of the high cheekbones she’d been blessed with, no doubt. The turquoise-colored shirt she’d opted to change into before loading Jay’s surprise into the Dessert Squad was a near perfect match for her eyes, and the soft pink lipstick she’d applied before actually pulling out of the driveway was still in place despite the occasional lip nibbling she’d caught herself doing as she left Serenity Lane and headed toward the college.

  “I guess I’ll do,” she mumbled as she swung her focus onto the passenger seat and its four-legged inhabitant. “Now, the only question is what to do with you.”

  Lovey sat up tall and peered out the front windshield.

  “It’s a school. You can’t come in.” She knew she sounded like an idiot explaining herself to a cat, but there she was, doing it anyway. “Fortunately for you, it’s just shy of seventy degrees out so you should be fine in here with the window cracked for a few minutes.”

  Lovey’s mouth dropped open and her narrow pink tongue rolled outward like a carpet. When her yawn was done, she blinked at Winnie.

  “I don’t know why you insist on tagging along every time I go out on a call. It’s silly, really.” She pulled the key from the ignition and opened the door. “Besides, you can’t stand me, remember?”

  She stepped out onto the pavement and made her way around to the back of the ambulance and the Éclair-mounted stretcher visible through the vehicle’s narrow rectangular window. With any luck, by the time she actually stepped inside Jay’s office, she’d actually know what she was declaring . . .

  With a practiced hand, she unlatched the back door, swung it open, and pulled the stretcher out and onto the ground. Once the wheels were locked into place, she retrieved her rescue bag from its holding spot inside the cab and slung it over her left shoulder for the walk across the parking lot.

  Despite being one of at least a half-dozen academic buildings on campus, the Cully Business Building’s white columns and commanding presence had become the trademark of the school, appearing in most if not all of the college’s brochures. During the school day, a smattering of students could be found studying on benches and blankets scattered around the south side of the building, while others took a moment to enjoy a little Frisbee and football fun on the large green space referred to as The Commons on its north side.

  Dodging a Frisbee that narrowly missed her éclairs, Winnie rounded the corner and entered the building through the doors on the south side. Six weeks earlier
, she’d never been inside the Cully Business Building. Now, though, thanks to a few deliveries, she knew her way around without having to consult the silver-plated directory halfway down the hallway. Instead, she went straight to the elevator bank and waited for the now illuminated button to heed her call.

  Once inside, she pressed the number 4 and did her best to ignore the butterflies that were flapping their wings a mile a minute inside her chest. Oh, how she wanted to convince herself she didn’t care if Jay liked her as much as she liked him. But to do so would mean she was lying to herself, and that accomplished nothing.

  Renee was right. Sitting around, waiting for Jay to call, was silly. He’d either be happy to see her or he wouldn’t be. If the latter proved to be the case, she’d douse her sorrows in chocolate and move on . . .

  The elevator doors swished open and she guided the stretcher into the hallway beyond, her gaze traveling down its length to the fifth room on the left. Even from where she was standing, she could tell the door was open and that someone was inside. But beyond that, she had no idea what he was doing or why he was there on a Sunday evening.

  A student meeting perhaps?

  No, there were no voices spilling out into the hallway . . .

  Catching up on e-mails?

  No, there was no tap-tap of the keyboard . . .

  Swinging her gaze to the right, she noted the empty receptionist desk and the utter silence of her surroundings. If she waited long enough, she suspected a member of the campus security team might emerge from the elevator or the stairwell at the end of the hall to conduct a routine sweep, but for now it was just Winnie and one unsuspecting business professor.

  She continued on her quest, the wheels of the stretcher remarkably quiet as they rolled along the standard office hallway carpet. Two feet from the door, she inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and finally settled on the proclamation that would go with her rescue dessert. Yet as she wheeled everything into view and opened her mouth to make her declaration, she found that she was unable to speak.

  For there, seated behind the large mahogany desk with his forehead resting on the unusually cluttered surface, was the classically handsome man she never tired of looking at even if his current facedown position made seeing him difficult. Still, she soaked in what she could (the light brown hair with the sprinkling of gray near his temples) and mentally filled in what she couldn’t (strong chin, blue-green eyes that sparkled when he smiled, six-foot frame, hands that seemed to swallow hers whole . . .), the image soliciting a small sigh from between her lips.