“I have,” she said as she picked up her fork and speared her coleslaw. She didn’t want to think about it any longer. She didn’t want to think of the possibilities or the opportunity she’d just turned down.
“Don’t you want to know how much it pays?”
“Nope.” The government would take half, and she’d be left looking like a fat idiot for half of what she was worth.
“Will you think about it a little longer?”
He seemed so disappointed that she said, “I’ll think about it.” But she knew she wouldn’t change her mind.
After lunch he walked her to her car, and once they stood beside her maroon Hyundai, he took the key from her hand and fit it into the lock.
“When can I see you again?”
“This weekend is impossible,” she said, feeling a little guilty that she’d never gotten around to mentioning John. “Why don’t you and Amber come over next Tuesday night and have dinner with me and Lexie?”
Charles reached for her wrist and placed her keys in her palm. “That sounds nice,” he said as he moved his hand up her arm to the back of her neck. “But I want to see you alone more often.” Then he touched his lips to hers, and his kiss was like a nice pause in a busy day. A relaxing ahh, or a dip in a warm pool. So what if his kisses didn’t make her crazy? She didn’t want a man who made her lose control. She didn’t want any man’s touch to turn her into a raving nymphomaniac ever again. She’d been there, done that, and she’d been burned big time.
She touched her tongue to his and felt his quick intake of breath. His free hand found her waist, and he pulled her closer into his chest. His grip tightened. He wanted more. If they hadn’t been standing in a parking lot in downtown Seattle, she might have given him what he wanted.
She cared for Charles, and in time, she could see herself maybe falling in love with him. It had been years since she’d made love. Years since she’d given herself to a man. When she stepped back and looked into Charles’s heavy eyes, she thought it might be time to change that. It might be time to try again.
Chapter Nine
“Hey, look at me!”
Mae glanced up from the carefully folded napkins in her hands as Lexie ran by dragging a pink Barbie kite behind her. Her denim hat with the big sunflower in front flew off her head and landed on the grass.
“You’re doing great,” Mae hollered. She set down the napkins and stood back to view the picnic table with a critical eye. The ends of the blue and white striped cloth fluttered in the slight breeze while Lexie’s Chia Pet sat on an overturned bowl in the center of the table. The grassy pig wore little sunglasses cut out of poster board, and a bright pink scarf had been tied around its neck. “What are you trying to prove?” she asked.
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Georgeanne answered, wedging a tray of salmon-asparagus bundles, smoked-bluefish pate, and rounds of toast on one end of the table. For some reason, a small porcelain cat sat in the middle of the tray licking its paws. On the cat’s head was a pointed hat made out of yellow felt. Mae knew Georgeanne well enough to know that there was a theme to this picnic somewhere. She just hadn’t figured it out yet, but she would.
She moved her gaze from the cat to the variety of food she recognized from jobs they’d catered the week before. She recognized the cheese blintzes and the loaf of traditional challah bread from little Mitchell Wiseman’s bar mitzvah. The crab cakes and checkerboard canap?s looked like they’d come from Mrs. Brody’s annual garden party. And the roasted chicken and baby back ribs with plum sauce had been served at the barbecue they’d catered the night before. “Well, it looks like you’re trying to prove to someone that you can cook.”
“I just cleaned out the freezer at work, that’s all,” Georgeanne answered.
No, that wasn’t all. The artfully arranged and carefully polished tower of fruit hadn’t come from work. The apples, pears, and bananas were perfect. The peaches and cherries had been meticulously positioned, and a blue-feather bird wearing a paisley cape looked down from a perch high atop a mound of shiny green and purple grapes. “Georgeanne, you don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a successful woman or a good mother. I know you are and you know it, too. And since you and I are the only grownups around here that count, why kill yourself to impress a bonehead hockey player?”
Georgeanne looked up from the crystal duck in a muumuu that she’d placed beside the canap?s. “I told John to bring a friend, so I don’t think he’ll be alone. And I’m not trying to impress him. I certainly don’t care what he thinks.”
Mae didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a stack of clear plastic glasses and set them on the table next to the iced tea. Whether intentional or not, Georgeanne had set out to impress the man who’d dumped her at Sea-Tac seven years ago. Mae understood Georgeanne’s need to prove she’d made a success of her life. Although she did think the designer brownies Georgeanne had molded into the shapes of dogs was going a bit too far.
And Georgeanne’s appearance was a little too perfect for a day at the park, too. Mae wondered if she was trying to convince John Kowalsky that she was as perfect as June Cleaver. Her dark hair was pulled up on each side of her head and held in place with gold combs. The gold hoops in her ears shined, and her makeup was flawless. Her emerald green halter dress matched her eyes, and her pink fingernail polish matched her toenails. She’d kicked off her sandals, and the thin gold ring on her third toe gleamed in the sun.
Just a little too perfectly put together for a woman who didn’t care if she impressed the father of her child.
When Mae had first hired Georgeanne, she’d felt a little drab standing beside her, like a pound mutt next to a highbred poodle. But her self-conscious feelings hadn’t lasted long. Georgeanne couldn’t help being a glamour queen any more than Mae could help feeling most comfortable in T-shirts and jeans. Or wearing a pair of cutoffs and a tank top like today.
“What time is it?” Georgeanne asked as she poured herself a glass of tea.
Mae looked at the big Mickey Mouse watch strapped to her wrist. “Eleven-forty.”
“We’ve got twenty minutes then. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t show.”
“What did you tell Lexie?” Mae asked as she dropped ice cubes into a glass.
“Just that John might come to our picnic.” Georgeanne raised a hand to her brow and watched Lexie run with her kite.
Mae reached for the tea pitcher and poured. “Might come to you