Joy and Tiers (5 page)

“I’m sensing you have your own ‘not so happily ever after story’ to share. The offer is reciprocal you know, I have pretty big shoulders too,” I offer.

Tyler runs his hand through his short-cropped hair as if it’s a sensory memory.

He shrugs his shoulders and loosens the muscles in his neck. “To be honest, I would just as soon forget about that time in my life, but if it would help you understand me better or build our friendship, I’ll trot out the grisly details for you. Put simply, I trusted someone to be there for me. She wasn’t even though she promised she would be. Period. End of sentence,” he explains curtly. Though now that he’s started, the story continues to burst from his lips like water through a burst levy. 

“She had a lot of flimsy excuses as to why her behavior was okay—but it sucked. My best friend’s behavior sucked too. But, then he went and got leukemia so, I couldn’t even be mad at him anymore. I just had to be mad at God and my ex-girlfriend. Well, them and terrorists, insurgents and other random bad people that I got to shoot at until they blew up my people and tried to blow up me. Then, my life got craptastic. But, that’s a topic for a whole ‘nother day or maybe even a whole other year, but we don’t need to talk about it today,” he sighs as his monolog trails off.

“See, I knew my problems were petty and stupid compared to real problems,” I lament.

Ty puts his hands on my shoulders as he says, “May I remind you that you were shot at today. I believe it gives you a little bit of leeway. In fact, I think that qualifies as a very real problem.”

“Speaking of things I’d rather not remember,” I remark as I roll my eyes. “Really, Cowboy did you have to go there? I was doing a pretty good job of forgetting why we were stuffing our faces with pizza,” I chastise as I sigh heavily. “By the way, I’m not giving you a free pass on telling me the rest of your story. You don’t need to tell me everything, but I think you left out some key details that it would be helpful for me to understand. Fortunately for you, I’m on a deadline today, and I wasted far too much time telling you my sob story. I need to get back to work on my cake order. I got a text from Kiera, and she said I could use their kitchen. They’re going to board the shoe thief with their friend the veterinarian so I can work on the flowers,” I explain.

“I guess that means I get a rain check?” asks Ty with a mysterious grin on his face.

“Yes, it would stand to reason,” I reply uncertain about the strange direction of the conversation.

Suddenly, Ty flashes a huge grin as he announces loud enough for everyone else in the restaurant to hear, “Why yes Ms. LaBianca, I would be more than happy to go on a date with you. I very much enjoyed this date, a follow-up date would be lovely. Thank you for asking.”

Abruptly, all the noisy background clatter and conversation in the quaint little Italian bistro seems to vanish. Everyone is waiting to see what I’m going to say. It isn’t often that someone can throw me off my game, but Tyler seems to have uncanny aim. I guess it was time to put on my game face. I summon my inner Lauren Bacall and look up at him through my eyelashes. After one long blink, I sassily retort, “Well, someone had to step up to the plate and do the asking because I’ve been waiting for months for an invitation and nothing happened. So, I figured I’d show some initiative.” I turn to the people watching with rapt attention and slip them a small wink when Tyler isn’t looking.

Tyler chokes back a chortle of laughter as he says, “Well played ma’am. I should’ve known better than to go up against the master of verbal play.”

As I stand and give a mock curtsy, It’s one of the things that makes things so interesting with Tyler. He isn’t afraid to challenge me or listen to my ideas. We always have a great spirited conversation, no matter what the topic—even if it’s about scheduling our next date. It’s a refreshing change when I’m used to my opinion not counting for much.

“Dad, it’s not a big deal. I wasn’t even in the food truck when it happened. No, we don’t know who did it. It’s probably just some neighborhood kids playing around. Tyler’s got it all under control. I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

I have to pull the phone away from my ear to be able to deal with my dad’s response. Although, I don’t know his exact words, the gist is very clear. “Oh for Pete’s sake, Dad! I’m not sleeping with the man. I went out for pizza with him. He’s the friend of a friend and happens to be the officer that responded to the break-in. I think I can control myself long enough not to ravish him in the middle of a restaurant,” I reply with an eye roll, even though my dad can’t see it through the phone.

I listen as my dad berates me some more, and I try again to defend myself as we have the same conversation we’ve had every year for the past four years. “No, dad you’re right. I have terrible taste in men, and I’ve been known to make stupid mistakes. However, the break-in was not my fault. I parked the truck in a well-lit area, and it was secure when I left it.”

As the tongue-lashing continues, I wonder why I even bother to engage in these conversations. I sigh as I continue to try to defend myself, “Yes, the security system was set. No, I’m not going to come home and marry your partner’s nephew just because it’s the sensible thing to do. I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested in being married to a golf pro. Listen, dad, I need to go, I have a wedding cake to make.”

I hang up the phone feeling exhausted. I cringe whenever I hear the ring tone associated with my dad. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but sadly I do.

I tuck my phone into my jacket pocket and try to put the conversation behind me as I unpack the supplies and put them on Kiera’s kitchen counter.

Mindy comes bounding up to me— because like me—she never approaches anything slowly. “Whoa, Mindy! Remember what I told you about running in the kitchen? It’s never a safe practice for any chef,” I caution.

Mindy’s face scrunches up with confusion, “I thought that was only if I was carrying knives,” she replies.

“Nope, it’s pretty much true always. If I had had a pan of hot sugar, you could’ve been in real danger,” I explain.

“Okay, if I’m careful, can I help you?” asks Mindy hopefully.

“I brought you some cake scraps so you can make cake balls and if you want to, you can play with the gum paste scraps because I am making flowers,” I suggest.

“That’s rad!” exclaims Mindy excitedly, bouncing from one foot to the other.

“First, you have to go wash your hands. It’s always the first rule of safety. Are your mom and dad here?”

“Sure, Dad’s down in the basement with Tyler,” Mindy answers as she runs toward the bathroom.

“Tyler’s here?” I practically shriek.

“Well, Duh! He came over to watch the NASCAR race with Papa,” Mindy clarifies as if she’s talking to a simpleton. “What’s wrong Miss Heather? Mr. Tyler is so nice. He gives me piggyback rides, and he’s going to teach me how to ride his horse.”

“Nothing’s wrong Mindy Mouse,” I say quickly, trying to cover my earlier overreaction. “I just didn’t expect him to be here.”

“Then how come you’re all red like a stop sign?” asks Mindy as she plays with the ribbons on her ponytails. “Hey, did you know Uncle Ty is a real cowboy? He has a ranch-n-everything. The barn is even red just like in the movies.”

“That sounds neat. Weren’t you planning to learn to ride a horse so you can ride at Justice Gardner’s ranch?”

Mindy nods as she exclaims, “Uh-huh, Uncle Tyler said he would teach me when we have school vacation if the fields aren’t too muddy. I’m so excited. The Judge-man said I was a very good horseman. I thought that was funny because I’m a girl.”

“Well, you’re braver than me. I’m too scared to ride a horse,” I admit.

“No, way!” Mindy says with her mouth gaping. “How can you be a grown up and not ride horses? I thought everybody rode ponies when they were little.”

“Nope, I was too big of a chicken. I was afraid they were going to step on me. So I never even tried. I wish I had been braver when I was little. Now I feel stupid that I never even tried,” I concede, sheepishly.

Just then, Tyler emerges from the basement. It’s clear from the expression on his face that he’s overheard our conversation. He is studying my body language as he asks me, “Would you mind coming out to my ranch so that I can show you my babies. They’re so gentle that they wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. In fact, I think Fannie Farmer is harboring a family of fugitive flies in her mane.”

I giggle, and Ty gives me an odd look. “I’m sorry, but the name of your horse is funny in light of our conversation this afternoon. I don’t know if you realize this, but your horse is named after a vintage cookbook. I find that ironic, especially since your favorite food is microwavable pizza.”

“If you think that’s funny you’ll get a kick out of the fact that I have two other horses named Julia and Jacques.”

“You’re kidding me! Please tell me it’s not coincidental and that you get the cultural reference behind their names.”

“Gidget, I didn’t say I was never exposed to cooking. My mom is a huge fan of Public Television. I think you’re reading far too much into my dislike of noodles. My transition from dorm food to the Army’s finest cuisine didn’t do much to develop a sophisticated palate either. But, it doesn’t mean I’m a total idiot. In fact, my mom would be pleased as punch to meet you. She always wanted to go to culinary school.”

“What does your mom do now?” I ask, realizing that I’ve never seen her at any of Jeff and Kiera’s family events.

“My mom is a retired third-grade teacher and my dad owns a local hardware store back in my hometown in Oklahoma.”

“You’re from Oklahoma? I knew you had an accent, but I didn’t realize that’s where you’re from.” 

“I’ve been from so many places recently, sometimes it’s hard for me to remember. What? You don’t think I have an authentic Ory-gun accent?”

“I’m probably not the person to ask about that since I grew up around Harvard Yard and spent my summers in North Carolina and Texas. My dialect is so confused it doesn’t know if it’s coming or going,” I tease.

“Speaking of places to visit, I would like you to come see my ranch, remember? You never answered my question,” Ty remarks, pinning me with a direct gaze. I look into his eyes that are so sexy, and I almost forget what my objections are.

“I was hoping you would miss that artful little dodge,” I confess “If I come see you, do I have to touch the horses?”

Tyler chuckles as he assures me, “No, Heather, I wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. We’ll just have a nice visit. Maybe you can even Skype with my mom and say hi. That way you can hear what a real Oklahoman accent sounds like.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound too dangerous,” I remark.

“Well, Gidget, I suppose the level of danger is entirely up to you.” 

I can’t believe I cut myself shaving today. I haven’t done that since I was a kid. I guess it just goes to show how nervous I am which is weird because this isn’t even my first date with Heather. If you count the time I spent helping her with the wedding cake, it’s almost like our third or fourth date. The whole food truck fiasco turned out to be a positive experience for me because it’s given me an excuse to hang out with Gidget. Although, it feels odd to call her that now because I can see her fashionable clothes are more of a defense mechanism than a reflection of who she is comfortable being.

The lot where her food truck was parked turned out to be the center of a turf dispute in a gang war between drug factions. They had actually been shooting at each other from inside her truck like some sick kids game using her humble little business as their home base. The narcotics task force in Salem made an arrest. Hopefully, that nightmare will soon be over. Unfortunately, because of the complexity of the case, her food truck has been tied up as evidence far longer than any of us anticipated. There was a fire in the commercial kitchen that she rents which complicated matters even more. She got permission from her client to use my kitchen at the ranch to make the cake since the facility was once used as a bed-and-breakfast.

This process has been entertaining and educational for me. At first, she didn’t want me to help her. She was shocked to learn that I have a food handler’s card. I’m so grateful for the time I spend with the Explorers program, which requires me to have one. She and I spent a very adventurous evening baking cake under Kiera’s watchful eye. Kiera wasn’t able to help as much as she typically does since my kitchen isn’t set up for her wheelchair, but she was very helpful in giving me step-by-step instructions. Even Heather said I make an excellent sous chef. I also got to show off my woodworking skills when I built the structure for the cake. The cake design was very abstract, with lots of odd angles that needed to be supported so the cake would not collapse on itself. I’ve seen cakes like that on television, but I had no idea they required internal supports. It was quite fascinating. I think the most entertaining part was making all the flowers. It was tedious in a way, but also a lot like playing with Play-Doh. Heather was sweet and didn’t tell me my stuff looked like a first grader made it, so I guess I did okay. Heather told me the bride emailed her and told her she was thrilled, so it all worked out okay in the end.