What Happens Between Friends (2 page)

“
Well
what?” He eyed the leftover sheet cake. They’d done the whole singing thing—though he’d gotten out of the candle tradition by letting his seven-year-old nephew, Max, blow them out. James had already had two scoops of ice cream plus two servings of the German chocolate cake with coconut pecan frosting.

Aw, what the hell? If a man couldn’t have extra cake on his birthday, what was the point of getting another year older?

Stretching onto her toes, Rose reached over the sink and turned the handle, closing the window. “What do you think of Anne?”

James cut a large square of cake and set it on one of his mother’s fancy dessert plates. He licked frosting from the side of his thumb. “Who?”

“Anne.” His mother snapped the lid of the coffeemaker shut and turned it on. “Anne Forbes. The pretty brunette in the dark blue dress?” He shook his head and she sighed heavily. “The new painter?”

Right. Kloss Painting and Wallpaper’s newest hire. Brunette. Blue dress. Early thirties. “She seems capable. Has some good ideas for the kitchen and dining room at Bradford House.”

Montesano Construction was nearing completion of their renovations of the one-hundred-year-old Victorian. Still, there was quite a bit to do before they moved on to the next job, and if James wanted to keep them on schedule—and James always, always wanted to keep his father’s company on schedule—he needed to check on the delivery of that claw-foot tub.

He pulled out his phone and opened the calendar function.

“Ahem.”

“I’m not calling anyone,” he said, not bothering to so much as glance over at her. He didn’t have to. He’d been on the receiving end of his mother’s do-not-mess-with-me look often enough that he could feel it—he didn’t need to see it. Moms. Nothing diminished their kick-ass powers. Not even celebrations of their child’s birth. “I’m just making a note.”

His entire family ragged him endlessly about how often he was on his phone. How the hell did they think so many things got done if he didn’t have his notes and reminders and schedules to keep the company on track?

He put the phone in his pocket, picked his cake up again only to freeze—the fork raised halfway to his mouth—to find Rose staring at him as if his brain had leaked from his ears and oozed onto the custom-built butcher block topping the center island.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you spent a good twenty minutes in conversation with Anne and the only thing you can say is that she’s—” Rose’s mouth twisted “—capable.”

He ate the bite of cake. Silently urged the coffee to hurry up and brew. “What’s wrong with capable? You want us to work with inept subcontractors?”

She grabbed cream from the stainless-steel fridge, slammed the door shut. An attractive woman despite the extra pounds in her hips and thighs, her face was a softer, rounder version of the beautiful girl she’d once been. Her chin-length hair was still dark, her face showing only faint signs of age. “I want you to notice when there’s an attractive, intelligent, interesting,
single
woman right in front of you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You said you invited her because she’s new in town.”

“She is.”

“And because Kloss’s recently hired her.”

“They did.”

“And because you wanted us to get to know her, since we’ll be working with her so closely at Bradford House.”

Rose added her delicate china sugar bowl—the one James and his brothers had bought for Mother’s Day a good twenty years ago to replace the one they’d broken during an impromptu, and ill-advised, indoor game of soccer—to a large serving tray. “I’m well aware of what I said.”

“You forgot to mention you were setting me up with her,” he said in a thoughtful, patient and completely reasonable tone. He was nothing if not a thoughtful, patient and reasonable man, damn it.

He stabbed another bite of cake.

“No one has set you up. All I did was invite Anne to the party for all the reasons I mentioned and you so helpfully repeated. If you two hit it off, great. If not...” She shrugged, though the look she shot him clearly said if he didn’t hit it off with Anne, he was an idiot. “No harm done, then.”

“You’re sneaky.”

“I prefer to think of it as multitasking. I help someone new to town feel welcome, introduce her to a few friends and possibly help you find your future wife.”

He set his empty plate aside. “Sneaky and scary.”

“Relax. No one’s forcing you to the altar. I’m just showing you an option.”

Thunder boomed and his sweet-natured dog, Zoe, a German shepherd/husky mix, whined and nudged the side of his leg. He patted her head, but kept his gaze on his mother. “Anyone ever tell you you’d make a hell of a used-car salesperson?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She set cups and saucers on the tray. “Why don’t you open a couple more bottles of wine and take them around to the guests? Make sure one is merlot.”

He went to the other side of the square island and searched through the well-stocked, built-in wine rack. Pulled out a bottle of merlot along with one of pinot blanc. “Don’t tell me, Anne prefers merlot.”

Beaming, Rose patted his cheek. “You always were a bright child.”

Bright enough to know arguing with his mother would do him no good. The best way to handle this was to grin and bear it.

He opened the bottle of white, set it aside to breathe. He didn’t have anything against Anne, or pretty brunettes in general. But he could, and often did, get his own dates. He didn’t need his mommy setting him up.

“Dad wants to know if the coffee’s ready,” James’s younger brother, Eddie, said as he came through the kitchen door.

“The regular is about done,” Rose said, “but the decaf is going to take a few minutes.”

Eddie grabbed a cup from the tray and reached for the pot. “He won’t know the difference.”

Rose slapped the back of his hand. “If you give him regular, he won’t sleep. And when your father doesn’t sleep, I don’t sleep. Mostly because he keeps me awake until the wee hours of the morning with all his tossing and turning. You’ll give him decaf or I’m sending him home with you and Max tonight.”

“No need for threats. I’ll give him decaf.” He turned to James. “Meg Simpson’s looking for you. Said she wants to discuss us doing an addition at their cottage on the lake next year.”

“She’ll have to wait,” he said mildly, lifting the merlot bottle. “I’m getting my future wife a drink.”

Eddie raised his dark eyebrows. Shorter than both James and their youngest brother, Leo, but broader through the shoulders, he had their father’s muscular build and their mother’s hazel eyes. “Future wife?”

Nodding, James pulled the cork from the merlot. “It’s all thanks to Mom. She got me a girl for my birthday.”

Rose shook her head. “Now, James. Really. A girl?”

“Sorry. Woman.”

Eddie helped himself to a strawberry from the fruit-and-cheese tray Rose was putting together. “She got me a watch for my last birthday.”

“Maybe she’ll get you your very own woman for Christmas,” James said.

Eddie gave one of his reticent shrugs. “A man can hope.”

“Meg Simpson wants to talk to you,” Leo told James as he came in carrying dirty dessert dishes.

“Yeah. I got that memo.”

Leo put the plates in the sink. “A customer wants to talk to you about doing a new job and you’re not racing out there with your handy schedule and charts and whatnot?” He studied each of them, his dark eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Mom got him a girl for his birthday,” Eddie said.

“Yeah?” Leo grinned, slow and wicked. “Which one?”

“Kloss’s new painter,” James said. “Tall brunette in a blue dress in the living room.”

Leo and Eddie exchanged a glance then both walked out only to return less than thirty seconds later. “She’s hot,” Leo said. “Excellent legs, nice ra—”

Rose slapped him upside the head.

“Shoes,” he amended quickly, holding his hand over the spot she’d slapped. He stepped out of range. “Really nice shoes. Good choice, Mom.”

“Thank you,” she said, pouring the regular coffee into an insulated carafe. “I’m glad one of my sons appreciates my efforts.”

“Guilt?” James asked. “That’s beneath you.”

Leo smiled, the same smile that had made fools of hundreds of women. Females. Always falling for a pretty face. “If he doesn’t want her, can I have her?”

“Absolutely not.” Rose turned to James. “My goodness, the way you’re acting, you’d think I bought you a Russian mail-order bride and had you legally wed without your knowledge. All I did was invite a lovely, interesting, nice woman to your party. Is that so wrong?” she cried with the dramatic flair he’d come to know and love.

Eddie pursed his lips and, as usual, wisely kept quiet. Leo rolled his eyes.

James showed his appreciation with quiet applause that had Zoe lifting her head, her tail wagging. “That was true Oscar material. Bravo.”

Leo snorted. “I’ve seen her do better. It was lacking something. It needed more...action. Drama. Maybe next time,” he told Rose, “thump your fist over your heart. Gnash your teeth. Rip at your hair. Don’t hold back.”

Rose gave him one of her patented disdainful sniffs. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“Hey, you know my motto—go big or go home.”

“I wish you’d go home,” James said with feeling. He turned to his mom. “And I wish you wouldn’t set me up, especially without asking first. Especially on my birthday,” he added.

Guilt may have been beneath his mom, but he wasn’t above using it himself.

Sometimes a man had to fight fire with fire.

Rose rounded her eyes. “It’s your birthday? Today? Why, that must’ve completely slipped my mind, which is strange as I’m usually good with dates and things. Oh...wait...” Frowning, she pressed her fingertips against her temples. “Is today the twenty-first? Because I’m getting this vague memory of being in labor on this date years ago for...let me see...”

“Twenty-nine and a half hours,” James, Eddie and Leo said in unison.

Rose’s hazel eyes gleamed, but her expression remained as serious as a heart attack. “Yes, that’s right. It’s all coming back to me now. Then again, it’s hard to forget twenty-nine—”

“And a half,” the brothers added.

“Twenty-nine and a half hours of excruciating pain. And that’s not even including pushing you—and your rather large head—out.”

Wincing, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach, James rubbed the back of his regular-size head. And conceded defeat. “I appreciate it. I think. Next year, I’m throwing you a party.”

“The flowers you send every year are more than enough, thanks.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Can’t you give Anne a chance? Just talk to her. Get to know her a bit. That’s all I’m asking.”

He sighed. He knew his mom wanted him settled. Married.

Hell, he wanted that, too. Wanted a family of his own, a wife in his bed, a couple of kids running around his house. He’d always figured it hadn’t happened yet because it wasn’t meant to, but that it would. Someday.

Since he had no control over when, exactly, that day would arrive, he didn’t bother worrying about it. It was useless, and a waste of energy, to fight the ebb and flow of life. Better to focus on keeping your head above water and just ride the waves out.

But maybe, this one time, he could try paddling and get where he was going faster.

Even if his mother was doing the steering.

“I’ll talk to her some more,” he said. What could it hurt? “But I’m not making any promises.”

“No promises. Got it.”

She hugged him. Looking over her head, James glanced at Leo who mouthed, “Sucker.”

James flipped him off.

“Leo,” Rose said as she broke the hug. “Please make another pot of coffee while Eddie and I take these trays out.”

“If you keep feeding people,” Eddie grumbled, “they’ll never leave.”

Rose handed him the coffee tray. “Your unsociable side is showing again.”

“Does he have any other side?” Leo asked.

“God, I hope so.” At the door, she looked back at James. “Don’t forget the wine.”

She swept out of the room, as regal as a queen, as formidable as a Navy SEAL.

“Yeah,” Leo said, rinsing the coffeepot. “And don’t forget the engagement ring.”

James stepped forward, ready to dunk his brother’s fat head under the running water, when his phone buzzed. He took it out, checked the caller ID. And, grinning, answered.

“Well, what do you know?” he said, crossing his ankles and leaning back against the counter. “It’s trouble come to call.”

Sadie Nixon laughed, the light, tinkling sound warm and as clear as if she was standing next to him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the ones who’ve earned it.”

“What’s life without a little trouble?”

“Peaceful.”

“I think the word you’re searching for is
boring.
”

“With you around? Never.”

“Flatterer. Now stop trying to charm me, I’m on a mission here. Guess where I’m at?”

“Jail?” he asked, earning him a curious glance from Leo.

“After that New Year’s Eve incident in D.C. you made me promise never to ask you to bail me out again, remember?”

“Hard to forget.” He’d left his date—a very friendly blonde—and driven the four and a half hours from Shady Grove, Pennsylvania, to D.C. in a blinding snowstorm. It had been worth it. Being with Sadie was always worth it. “Not jail, then.”

“You’ll never guess—”

“Then why did you ask me to?”

“—so I’ll just tell you....” He was surprised she didn’t tap out a drumroll during her drawn-out dramatic pause. “I’m in Shady Grove.”

“No kidding? You at your parents’ place?” Dr. and Mrs. Ellison had left the party less than an hour ago and they hadn’t said anything about Sadie coming home.

Then again, most of Sadie’s trips to Shady Grove were unexpected. She was like a summer storm—you never knew when she would strike or how long she would stick around. And when she took off on her next great adventure, it was as if you’d been swept up in a tornado, your head dizzy and aching, your thoughts and feelings twirling.

“No, I had a stop I wanted to make first. Say, when did your mom have that stone retaining wall put in out front?”