Finding Floyd (9 page)

"He totally likes you, Diane!" Vicky teased
as she rejoined her friend.

Diane sank onto a kitchen chair and
groaned.

"Hey. Where'd everybody go all of a sudden?"
said Vicky.

"I don't know. They all just left and I'm
totally worn out. I think I'll just finish cleaning up things here
after you leave. It was so nice of those women to bring those
desserts and clean up all the dishes. There's not much left to
do."

"They really are the nicest people," said
Vicky as her husband took her hand and led her outside.

"We'll be back in an hour or two," said
Jack.

Diane followed her friends and slumped
against the doorframe, observing all the activity. Outside there
was the sound of laughter, car doors slamming, and engines
starting. Beau Shackelford, whom Diane couldn't recall having
uttered a single word all afternoon, was carefully packing his bass
safely in its case, while their daughters zoomed around his truck
in circles pretending to be airplanes.

Carol Anne was packing things into the trunk
of her car. Looking around she called out, "Girls, get in your car
seats." Obediently, they scrambled over to the car and started to
climb in.

"Lina honey, where's your new doll baby?"

Lina stopped and said, "She's in the kitchen
having a nap, Momma. I'll get her." On her way past Diane, she
grinned proudly and informed her, "My dolly's name is Cassandra.
She's just a baby, so I gotta go get her."

"That's nice," said Diane as she watched the
little girl trot back into the kitchen.

Inside, Lina stopped at the table, stood on
tiptoe, and stretching out her arm, just managed to pluck the last
brownie from the plate. Chewing and humming to herself, she made
her way to the doll, which lay in a heap of doll clothes and tiny
blankets by the refrigerator. She bundled up everything and scolded
her baby.

"Cassandra, you lost one of your shoes." She
slipped it onto her doll's tiny foot. "And you dropped your paci!"
She retrieved the tiny pacifier and jammed it into the little pink
plastic mouth.

Turning to leave, with the doll cradled
expertly on one hip, something caught her attention. One corner of
a sheet of paper protruded from under the refrigerator. She pulled
it out and held it up. Unable to read the words, she nevertheless
concluded that this was probably something the big people would
consider important.

"Lina, come on. We've got to go," called
Carol Anne from the porch.

"Here I come," she answered and headed for
the back door. On her way past the table, once more she stood on
her tiptoes and put the note where the grown-ups would see it.

The sun was low in the sky as the last guests
left. Diane waved to the musicians as they drove away, closed the
door and leaned against it, sighing. The silence seemed strange
after an entire day of noise and commotion. Finally, everyone's
gone and I can relax. As nice as those people are, I'm so looking
forward to sitting down with a big cup of tea and that paperback I
brought with me. Maybe some aspirin would help.

Looking down at her clothes she realized she
was still wearing the dress she'd put on early that morning, to
impress Chris. For what? Why should I try to impress him? He
disappeared without a word in the middle of the night. Maybe I'll
never see him again. So what. "Who needs him?" she said aloud to an
empty room.

She strode across the kitchen and into the
first floor master bedroom. Kicking her shoes off, she pulled the
dress over her head and tossed it onto a chair. This was followed
by her bra. In the bathroom she washed her face and looked at
herself in the mirror. Every time I think of him, I get mad. Her
reflection scowled back at her.

Back in the bedroom she pulled on comfortable
old jeans and a favorite soft T-shirt and decided not to bother
with a bra. Her firm round breasts needed little support.

Switching on her bedside table lamp, she saw
the paperback she'd brought with her. It was Tori Baxter's latest
romance novel entitled, 'Caribbean Fire'. I'm going to start it
tonight. I'd better finish cleaning up in the kitchen first and
find something to eat.

Half of Carol Ann's black walnut cake was on
the counter by the sink. The creamy caramel icing drew her, so she
swiped her finger through the swirls and popped it in her mouth.
Delicious! She nibbled at some stray crumbs, and then cut a healthy
wedge. Moving around the room she straightened up and put water on
to boil for tea. As she munched the cake and listened to the tea
kettle begin its familiar sound, she gazed out the window at the
woods behind the piled chunks of tree trunk.

She'd never had black walnut cake before. It
was pretty tasty. Picking up the knife, she cut another, smaller
wedge, looked at it for a moment, cut it in half and began nibbling
again. There were still a few plates and coffee cups in the sink.
Turning on the water, she reached for the dish soap.

She started with surprise when the faucet
handle came away in her hand. Dumbfounded she stood holding it with
the plastic dish soap bottle in her other hand. Water shot from the
hole like a geyser where the handle had been. It sprayed like a
shower over the sink, the counters, and splashed on the kitchen
window. Dropping the useless handle and soap, she tried to stop the
geyser with her hands, sending the water shooting in different
directions and soaking her shirt. She screamed when the cold water
hit her chest and flowed down to soak her jeans.

Chris Owen closed the door of his black
Suburban and walked slowly around to the hood. Hands on hips he
studied the driveway where the massive fallen tree should have
been. Amazing! It was gone. In the fading light, he could make out
some large slices of the trunk and more across the yard where a
huge pile of fresh logs rose near the old stack. Impressive work,
he thought, scratching his head. How did she manage that? A bunch
of the neighbors must have come out with their saws. They don't
like to let good firewood go to waste.

At that moment he heard a frantic shriek from
the house, followed by more screams and shouts.

"That's Diane! What the hell? Oh my god," he
muttered. Toricello! Could that no good slime-ball has discovered
this place? He took off for the house, his heart pounding. If that
bastard hurts her, I'll kill him. Leaping onto the porch he
sprinted for the back door, drew his gun, and flung it open.

In the midst of a shower of water spurting
from the sink, a soaking wet Diane was yelling and trying
unsuccessfully to reinsert the broken faucet handle to prevent the
water from spurting all over. The sight was so comical he couldn't
help laughing. Holstering the gun, he gently pushed her to one
side.

"Get out of the way!" he yelled, as he
wrenched open the cabinet below the sink and crouched down over the
puddled water. Reaching in, he turned the valve rapidly until the
water stopped flowing. Gingerly, he got to his feet trying to avoid
the flood.

Diane stared at him wide eyed, as water
continued cascading down her front. "How did you do that?"

He shrugged. "I turned off the water."

She looked down at the flooded room and shook
her head.

The silence was broken by the tea kettle's
shrill whistle. Chris stepped carefully to the stove and turned off
the gas. Looking at Diane's incredulous expression, he chuckled. "I
always seemed to find you dripping wet and in some sort of
trouble."

She glowered at him, defiant and dripping.
"Where the hell have you been?" Sparks flew from her eyes.

Chris frowned. "Why are you so mad?"

"Never mind. I don't care where you've been!"
She turned away. It had taken only a second for her surprise to
turn to irrational rage. "Get out!"

"What do you mean? I told you I had a job to
do." He looked at her puzzled. "You're all wet. Let me get some
towels."

"What are you doing here? Diane stared at him
for a moment before jabbing him angrily in the chest and erupting.
"You just disappear in the middle of the night without a word,
without a call, text, note...or anything! After yesterday I
thought... Well never mind yesterday." She paused, took a deep
breath, and asked quietly, "What do you mean you told me?"

"I left you a note."

"No you didn't. There was no note," she
spat.

"Diane, I did. I had to leave really early. I
got a text message from my boss and had to leave right away. I
wrote you a note and left it right there." He turned and pointed to
the kitchen table top where there was a plate with a few crumbs,
salt and pepper shakers, and a lone sheet of paper. He took two
steps to the table, grabbed the paper and glanced at it.

Diane stood in a puddle, trembling with
anger.

"Here it is, right where I left it this
morning. You can't tell me you didn't see it," he said, holding it
out to her.

At first, she refused to look at it. Then her
eyes shifted, she saw the handwriting and looked more closely. She
wiped water from her face and dried her hand on her jeans. Reaching
out, she snatched the note. It took her less than a minute to read
and she looked at him curiously, then back down at the note.
Finally she looked up and shot him a wary disbelieving glance.

"You just now put this on the table. I know
you did. You must have. I've been feeding people at this table all
day and I know this wasn't there. How did you pull this sneaky
trick?"

"Diane, how the hell could I do that? I ran
in a couple of minutes ago, turned off the water and that's it. You
saw me."

"I don't understand," she mumbled, scowling
at the note. "I think I'm going crazy or something."

She reread his note and then said softly, "Oh
Chris, this is so sweet. Your note explains everything." She
reached for a chair and sank down. "Oh my god! I just don't get it.
Where was this all day?"

He took the paper from her hand and examined
it closely. I think I see some evidence here," he said. "Yes,
someone with very small fingers has left their prints here." He
held up the sheet where, on one corner there was a tiny chocolate
thumb print and three smeary prints on the opposite side. I'll just
take this to the lab and see what they have to say." He grinned
with amusement.

Diane began sniffling and dabbing at the
water droplets that continued to rain from her wet hair.

"Oh Chris, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled
at you like that. It's a very sweet note and explains everything.
I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Who knows what happened to my
note, but its here now. Let's forget it." He dropped the paper on
the table and smoothed her damp hair.

Diane cleared her throat and smiled weakly.
"Okay."

They gazed into one another's eyes.

"You're beautiful when you're dripping wet,
you know that?" He smiled and drew her into his arms. Their lips
met and they kissed. Diane put her arms around him and he felt the
dampness from her T-shirt soaking into him, but he didn't care.
Gently, he kissed her cheeks and forehead.

"Oh my god," she whispered and brushed her
lips against his.

"Hey, you're freezing." Taking her by the
shoulders, he pushed their bodies apart and looked down. "You
win!"

"What are you talking about?" she asked,
blinking.

"You win the wet T-shirt contest." He stared
appraisingly at the contour of her breasts and the hard puckered
nipples perfectly defined by her wet shirt.

She looked down at herself. "Oh," she said
softly and blushed. "We should really clean up this mess."

"Yes." He took his hands from her shoulders
and began slowly rolling the T-shirt upwards, exposing her midriff.
"Let's get you out of these wet things first." When he got to her
ribs he paused, gently kneading her bare skin with warm hands. He
rolled a little higher until the shirt was just below her breasts.
He bent forward and kissed her again.

"Oh my god." She breathed, raising her arms,
inviting him to continue.

Pulling the rolled cloth off her breasts, he
drank in their beauty, stroking the tips until they grew longer and
tighter. Tossing her shirt aside he stroked the perfectly erect
pick nipples and drew one into his mouth. Trembling, she fell into
his arms. They kissed again and again, as he led her toward the
bedroom door.

"Oh god, Chris. I don't know, maybe we
shouldn't... I mean..."

He suckled one breast, strumming the other
nipple with a finger.

"Well, maybe...Oh my god," she moaned.
"Hurry. Now! Please, let's hurry! Jack and Vicky will be coming
back."

"Jack and Vicky?" he asked.

Heavy footfalls sounded on the back porch,
and they stood frozen for a moment. When someone hammered on the
door, Diane shrieked and dashed into the bedroom, slamming the door
behind her.

1 1/2 cups butter, at room temperature

1 1/2 cups light brown sugar

1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

5 large eggs, at room temperature

3 cups sifted all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup whole milk

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 cup chopped black walnuts

Preheat the oven to 325°F.

Grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan.

Beat butter and sugars until the mixture is
light and fluffy.

Add the eggs one at a time, beating well
after each.

Sift together flour, baking powder, and
salt.

Alternating add the dry in thirds with the
liquid, beat until smooth.

Fold in the nuts.

Pour into pan, reduce temperature to 300F and
bake one hour and 20 minutes until done.

Cool cake before frosting.

Brown Sugar Frosting

1/2 cup butter