Baumgartners Empty Nest (The Baumgartners) (5 page)

“That’s the one,” Doc agreed, taking Doug’s outstretched hand and shaking it. “Thanks, Doug.”

“Enjoy it, man.” Doug handed over the keys to Doc, if a little reluctantly. He looked at the car longingly like he wanted to take it around the block for another spin. He probably thought he still looked like a young kid driving around in it, instead of the slightly balding fifty-year-old man he was, with a slight paunch hanging over his belt. “If you need anything else, just call me.” 

“Will do.” Doc popped the trunk, glancing in at the bags—Doc’s duffel bag and Carrie’s overnight carrier. “Thanks for putting our stuff in.” 

“Going on a trip?” Doug asked as Doc got into the driver’s side. Carrie opened the car door, hesitating. Was this really their car? Was she dreaming?

“Shh.” Doc put a finger to his lips and winked at Doug in the rearview mirror. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“Have a good time!” Doug waved as he headed back toward the dealership, looking a little morose. Carrie couldn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to go back into the office either, after taking this thing for a ride.

“I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises today!” She slid in beside her husband, laughing at his goofy grin.

“Oh you can,” Doc assured her, putting a hand on her bare knee. It was warm enough to wear a sundress, and so she had. “And you will.”

“Doc...” She shook her head, breathing in. That new car smell. It was almost as good as the smell of a newborn. “This car...”

“Our new baby.” He winked, sliding his hand further up her thigh. “What do you want to name her?”

“Blue...” she mused, running a fingertip over the edge of the mirror, smiling at herself in it. She looked flushed and happy. Ecstatic even. That made her smile even more. “How about Betty Blue?”

“Betty Blue it is.” He slapped his door, as if christening her.

“Doc, this is crazy.” Carrie wiggled in her seat as his hand met the crotch of her panties under her sundress.

“Nah, this is living.” He reached over with his other hand, grabbing her seatbelt and yanking it toward him. “Buckle up, baby.”

“You planning on speeding?” she asked as she locked the seatbelt.

“Hell yes.”

He peeled out of the car dealer, leaving long black streaks on the pavement.

“Gordon, good to see you.” Doc shook the man’s hand as they took chairs opposite their accountant.

Carrie’s stomach growled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that very moment. She’d been too excited to eat much that morning—just yogurt and granola—but the smell of barbeque permeated the restaurant, making her mouth water, even it was only eleven in the morning. 

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Baumgartner.” Gordon gave her an appreciative look as she sank into the chair beside her husband. 

Gordon couldn’t looked less like an accountant if he tried. His bushy hair was long, almost touching his shoulders, and he had cornbread in his big, brown beard already, she noticed. An eyebrow piercing, a silver ring, winked at her, and he sported several tattoos, some of them on his hands and fingers, where he wore several big, silver rings. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt—the suit jacket he had slipped was the only nod he made to his profession, and with his big frame, he looked like he was going to burst out of it at the seams like the Hulk at any moment.  He was more biker than accountant, truth be told, but Doc said he was the best money-man he’d ever met, and the way Gordon had handled their investments so far had proven him correct.

“How are you, Gordon?” Carrie slung her purse over the back of her chair, seeing the way his gaze dipped to her cleavage. She had the feeling Gordon was a bad boy once upon a time, but she didn’t know his history. She saw him once a year when they had their taxes done, and that was about it.

“Thanks for meeting me here.” He slathered butter on another bit of cornbread. “I’ve had a taste for barbeque for a month.”

“Best barbeque in the city, no doubt about that.” Carrie smiled, watching crumbs fall into his beard as he bit into what was also the best cornbread in town. Beans and Cornbread was tucked out of the way, a Detroit gem that served authentic soul food with the most important ingredient—real love in every bite.

“How are things over at Minsk, Federer & Federer?” Doc leaned back in his seat, putting an arm around the back of Carrie’s chair and pulling it closer. The other Federer was Gordon’s father, who was the sole reason he could go into the office looking like he did.

“Not as good as your investments, lately, Doc.” Gordon shook his head taking a gulp of his soda.

“Our investments?” Carrie looked between them, puzzled. “What’s going on?”

“What can I get you folks?” The waitress pulled a pen out from behind her ear, holding it poised above a notepad, and Gordon gave her an appreciative look, too. She was a very pretty black girl, although Carrie wasn’t sure she was quite legal yet. That didn’t keep her from flirting with Gordon, however.

Both Doc and Gordon ordered a full slab of ribs. Carrie opted for the Louisiana style gumbo and a garden salad. And cornbread of course. Couldn’t go to Beans & Cornbread and not get the cornbread. That would be like going to Dairy Queen and not ordering ice cream.

“All right,” Carrie said after the waitress had dropped off Doc’s lemonade and her water. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Somebody better tell me what’s going on.”

“Tell her, Gordon.” Doc sipped his fresh lemonade, trying to hide that Cheshire cat smile.

“A few years ago, you invested in a new pharmaceutical company.” Gordon sat back in his seat, stroking his beard. It was a very Freud-like gesture, but Gordon wasn’t. “I advised your husband against it, actually. Big pharma is, well—big. There are just a few real players out there. New companies are a risky investment.”

“No risk, no reward.” Doc put down his lemonade, looking a little bit smug.

“Well, it paid off,” Gordon admitted. “They developed that new boner pill, the one giving Viagra a run for its money.”

“Oh, that Viralon!” Carrie perked up. “I see the commercials all the time. They’re practically porn.”

“Probably one of the reasons they’re selling so well.” Gordon snorted, sitting back as the waitress put his slab of ribs in front of him. He gave her a smile and a little wink. “Anyway, this company’s probably going to get swallowed up by one of the big boys eventually, but right now, their stock has gone through the roof.”

“So, what does that mean?” Carrie asked, dipping cornbread into her soup and smiling at the waitress as she put down another glass of water.

“That means you have quite a bit more money to invest for your retirement.” Gordon wiped barbeque sauce from his face with a napkin, but he didn’t get it all. A man with a beard probably should never eat ribs in public, Carrie thought with a smile.

“How much more?” she asked, imagining it was about the price of a Shelby Mustang GT500.

“About 3.7 million,” Gordon told her, calmly licking his fingers.

“What?” Carrie breathed, sitting back in her seat like someone had punched her in the gut. “I... what?”

“But don’t spend any of it!” He waved a saucy, scolding finger at them both. “You need to reinvest it.”

“Too late.” Carrie let out a little laugh when Gordon’s eyes widened. “Want to come meet Betty Blue?”

“Who?” Gordon frowned at her, then at Doc.

“The electric blue Mustang convertible Doc just bought.” She met her husband’s dark, devilish eyes and laughed. He had always liked to splurge whenever they came into a little windfall. But the last time they’d really indulged, Doc had gone in on the time-share they owned in the Florida Keys.

“Aw man...” Gordon shook his bushy head, spooning up the juice from his baked beans.

“Hey, a man can’t live by investment alone,” Doc said through a mouthful of ribs.

“Well, I’d like you to play it a little safer.” Gordon had gone through his ribs like a Tasmanian devil and opened a wet-nap to wipe his fingers. “I want to see your money in a managed risk, recession proof, diversified portfolio. Something you could live on into your old age.”

“You got it, Gordon,” Doc assured him. “After this weekend.”

“Fine.” Gordon looked askance at him, like it wasn’t fine at all, but what could he do? “You get one weekend. Don’t spend it all.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Doc wiped sauce from his face. “Betty was my money shot.”

Carrie smiled at that, finishing the last of her soup and starting on her salad. The waitress came over to ask if they needed anything else.

“Just the bill,” Gordon told her. “And I wouldn’t object if you wrote your phone number on it.”

The waitress laughed. “But my husband would.”

Carrie did a double take at that, surprised. Obviously she was older than she looked!

“Aw. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Gordon gave her another wink as she cleared Doc and Gordon’s plates—there was no food left on either.

“So where are you going?” Gordon asked, leaning back in his seat with a groan, a hand pressed to his belly. He wasn’t fat, exactly, but he was definitely a big guy.

“Petoskey,” Doc said, finishing his lemonade and smacking his lips.

Carrie met her husband’s gaze, raising her eyebrows. This was the first she’d heard about where they were going.

“Well, at least it isn’t Paris,” Gordon mumbled, taking a toothpick out of the holder on the table. “Why Petoskey?”

“That’s where my parents went on their honeymoon.” Doc looked over at his wife and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. She’d never met another man who could make her insides do that like he could.

“Oh, Doc...” She smiled, feeling his hand on her knee under the table.

“All right, you love birds have a great time.” Gordon stood as the waitress brought the bill over. He took it from her, glancing at it. “But I mean it—let’s not go overboard with the spending. We’re going to make that money work for you, got it?”

“Got it, Gordon.” Doc half stood to shake the big man’s hand, reaching back to dig his wallet out of his pocket. “Thanks for everything.”

“I got this, big spender.” Gordon waved him away when Doc went to give him their part of the bill. “See you later, Mrs. Baumgartner.”

“Bye, Gordon,” Carrie said, watching as he headed up to the front counter. She turned back to Doc, laughing at that smug look on his face. He was very proud of his little ruse. “You jerk! How long have you known?”

“Oh, a week or two.” Doc grinned.

“So you planned all this?”

“Yeah, well, I bought the car a week ago,” he confessed. “But the trip... that I decided on yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” She raised her eyebrows, taking a sip of her water. “What prompted that hasty decision?”

“Coming home, seeing you crying over that invitation.” His hand squeezed her knee.

“So stupid.” She sniffed, putting her water glass down.

“And it was the same day Brady told me he’s retiring,” he reminded her. “It just seems like it means something. Like... like it’s time for a change.”

“Road trip?” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, letting her sundress ride up a little higher.

“Hell yes.” Doc’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go, baby.”

* * * *

Miss you, babygirl.

Carrie sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the text, feeling something take flight in her belly at the sight of Jody’s name on her phone.

Miss you too. We’re second-honeymooning and mid-life crisis-ing in Petoskey.

Carrie smiled when Jody texted back:
What’s a Petoskey?

A little northern Michigan town. Bed & Breakfast, very quaint, just checked in. Guess what we drove up in?

A horse and buggy?

She giggled, texting back:
a Shelby Mustang GT500. Doc splurged.

Whoa! You weren’t kidding about that mid-life crisis! Did a twenty-year old in a bikini come with it? Or in it?

Carrie actually laughed at that, texting:
Wish you’d come with it. Or in it.

Me too. Can’t stop thinking about you.

She closed her eyes, picturing Jody’s face, that mischievous smile. Carrie hadn’t planned this. She hadn’t gone looking for it. She hadn’t even been wanting it, not that she knew, when Jody had found her on Facebook and messaged her just to say hi. She’d fallen into it, like Alice down the rabbit hole, tumbling head over heels until she didn’t know which way was up anymore.

She heard Doc in the bathroom, humming to himself, and blinked down at her phone screen. She hated keeping things from him. It was the first time she could remember in their marriage that she’d kept something so secret for this long. It was like trying to hold your breath. Eventually, you had to give in.

I’m going to tell him.

Carrie watched her text field, those three little dots appearing … indicating that Jody was typing. Then they disappeared.

Jody texted:
Now?

This weekend. I’m going to tell him. I have to. I can’t do this anymore.

Are you sure?

Was she? Carrie jumped when the bathroom door opened, her heart hammering in her chest as if talking to Jody was something she had to hide.

Gotta go. Talk soon.

She slipped her phone back into her purse, smiling at Doc as he came out, tucking his shirt back into his jeans.

“You ready for another little drive?” He leaned down and kissed her, softly, just a brief press of his lips, but she put her arms around his neck, keeping him close.

“I’d go anywhere with you.” She kissed him longer, breathing in the scent of him, her tongue tracing his lips, hungry.

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled when they parted, his wife looking at him with greedy, half-closed eyed. “We have reservations.”

“First dinner, then dessert?” she asked. The long drive up north had left her quite hungry again.

“First dessert, then dinner.” 

Carrie laughed as he grabbed her ass and pulled her in to another hot, hungry kiss, thinking he was going to make them late for dinner after all.

But he was quite serious.

They drove the Mustang through town, top down, to Lundquist’s Chocolatier and Ice Creamery for the best butter pecan in the world. That definitely took the edge off her hunger and they walked back to the car, finishing their cones in the afternoon sunshine.

“Couldn’t do this with kids, could we, Mrs. Baumgartner?”

“Eat ice cream?” She snaked her tongue to the bottom of her cone as she got into the passenger seat beside him, sucking out the last bit of sweetness. “Kids love ice cream.”

“Brat.” He reached over and tickled her and she laughed. “When’s the last time we picked up and took off for a weekend on the spur of the moment?”

“Point taken.” She smiled, eating the last bit of her cone as he started the car. “Where to now? Oh wait, let me guess—”

“It’s a surprise,” they said together, laughing.

Carrie really didn’t care where they were going. She tied her hair back with a Scrunchie, put on her sunglasses, and sighed happily. The sun was warm, the wind loud in her ears with the top down, and her husband’s hand was on her leg as he drove them out of town.

It didn’t really matter where they ended up, she thought, her fingertips playing in the wind, as long as Doc was with her on the journey.