Just Desserts (14 page)

“Actually, I’m going back to school.”

“Hey, that’s great to hear.”

“Yes.”

After another silence, he said, “Well, I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks for calling. I truly appreciate it.” And she also appreciated knowing she had a friend. No one else from the school had contacted her since she’d left. She hadn’t been ultraclose to any of the other teachers, but they had socialized on occasion. Apparently, there would be no more of that.

When Layla shut off her phone, she turned to see her sister waiting expectantly to hear the details.

“I won an award,” she said with a slight shrug, making a mental note never to take a call of a truly personal nature in the shop. Sam was one of those people who tended to keep her own affairs a mystery, but fully expected to share in every part of Layla’s life.

“Educational?”

“What else?” A nice bit of irony. Layla leaned her arms on the counter between them.

Her sister laughed. “That should stick in that bitch principal’s craw.”

Layla smiled as she clasped her hands loosely together. “There is one small problem, though. My invitation is at the school. I don’t think the principal is going to tell me about it.”

Sam’s eyes, which already looked huge due to the false lashes she wore, went even wider. “If you want to go get it, I’ll come with you.” She made a grab for her purse. “We can go right now.”

As satisfying as that mental picture was—showing up at school with her unconventional sister ready to go to bat for her—it would probably result in a trespassing charge or something.

Layla had an easier solution. “I’ll call the Merit Awards office and RSVP by phone. Then I’ll show up at the ceremony.”

“Alone?”

“Not necessarily. You could come.”

“But if you needed an actual date, Willie—”

Layla’s eyes shot to Sam’s face. “No.”

“But—”

“Sam, your friend hums when he’s bored, and this ceremony will be very boring to someone not winning an award.”

“Perhaps he’s over that.”

“He wasn’t the last time we went out.” A date that Sam had arranged a year ago, just prior to Layla meeting Robert.

“Did he hum
a lot?
” As if a small amount of humming during a boring educational award ceremony would be acceptable.

Layla nodded. They’d gone to an art gallery opening and Willie had been okay in the beginning, but by the end her elbow was sore from nudging him. “His favorite tune was ‘Yellow Submarine.’”

Sam gave a resigned nod. “That sounds like Willie.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Layla said in a placating tone.

“No. It’s fine. Really. I’d just like to see him settled.”

“But not with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Sam picked up the steamer and started working over a filmy silk robe, humming “Yellow Submarine” lightly under her breath.

Sometimes Layla envied her sister’s ability to simply let matters drop and move on. If Layla had that ability herself, she probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time obsessing over matters she couldn’t control.

She was learning, though. For instance, she was dealing with her cheating boyfriend and being fired better than she’d ever thought possible. And she knew why: she was distracted by other matters.

Had it not been for Justin, and her realization that she found him ridiculously attractive, she would have been obsessing about her career a whole lot more. Instead, she was wondering why, when there was so obviously good chemistry between them, Justin was taking a giant step back just as she was ready to take a giant step forward.

She looked at her sister. “Tell me about Rachel Kelly.”

Sam turned, the steamer blowing a cloud of condensation into the air as she pulled it away from the robe. “Rachel?”

“You know. Justin’s old high school girlfriend. The person who helped you get through government class.”

Sam gave a casual shrug. Too casual. “Not much to tell,” she said, going back to the robe, which was totally wrinkle free. “She had rich parents who wanted her to be one way. She wanted to be another. The parents won.”

“She moved before graduation?”

Sam hesitated, then nodded and started steaming the robe again.

“How many times are you going to de-wrinkle that one robe?”

“Until I get it right,” Sam muttered.

“What do you know about Rachel?”

Her sister turned then. “I don’t know anything about a girl who disappeared from my life ten years ago. Anything else?”

“Was she pregnant?” Layla spoke almost before the pieces had fully clicked into place—Justin’s behavior with the reunion committee, Rachel’s disappearance from school months before graduation. But once they did click, it made perfect sense.

Sam lifted her chin. “I can honestly say I don’t know.”

Layla believed her. “Did you suspect?”

“All I can tell you is that Rachel withdrew into herself for a couple months, barely talked to me in class, and then, boom. Gone.”

Layla nodded.

“Even if she was pregnant, what does it matter?” Sam asked.

Layla pushed her hair back from her temples, wondering the exact same thing. “It doesn’t, I guess.” Although it would explain a few things for her.

Sam came around the counter. “Justin is hot. But he’s also a player. He is not going to settle down. Don’t try to figure him out. Don’t try to fix him.”

She hated that her sister could read her so easily. Layla was the Taylor who made the observations and attempted to direct her errant siblings down the correct path in life. Not that they ever followed her advice…just as she wasn’t going to follow Sam’s. “What makes you think I want to settle down or fix him?”

Sam’s expression took on a sad cast. “Because that’s the way you are. You like stability. You want everyone else to be stable.” She reached out and squeezed Layla’s shoulder. “Some of us aren’t.”

“SO YOU’RE REALLY all right? As in unscathed?” Eden spoke in a low, disbelieving voice.

“Damn it, Eden, it was the car that got creamed. Not me.” Justin paced through the empty kitchen, the phone at his ear.

“But it
could
have been you.”

This was what he got for apprising his sister of the situation rather that just dealing with it. Except that now he needed her driveway to work on the car, so she would have figured out what’d happened anyway. Eden tended to notice things like a vehicle with a smashed-in hood sitting in front of her garage.

As if he had time for this. Patty’s last day was tomorrow—Tuesday—and after that he’d be buried in work.

“But it wasn’t me,” he said for the third time.

“Are you sure you can’t afford to quit at the lake?” They’d had this same conversation after his last accident. Only Reggie had been there with Eden, double-teaming him.

“After the big payment on the condo, I can quit.”

“That’s more than a year away.”

“It’ll take me that long to save the money.”

Eden made a growling noise on the other end of the phone, probably because she couldn’t yell at him while serving a luncheon. He called her only because he wanted her to know what had happened the night before, and why he was borrowing her SUV, parked at the kitchen, to deliver a cake. His second car, a small Honda, wasn’t up to the task of hauling that many layers.

He should have left a note.

“I can’t help it if I bought the condo at the wrong time.” Just before the housing market had gone to hell. His timing was always impeccable. Now he was upside down and had no choice but to surge on. The problem with being a small-business owner was that the income was not always steady.

“But maybe you could get a job locally.”

“Not one that pays like this one.”

Another growl. “Be careful with my vehicle!”

“I will. And thanks.”

“We’re not through.”

“Yes, we are.”

He finished loading the cake tiers into the SUV and securing the boxes so they didn’t move during the trip down to Carson City. After setting up the cake, he’d head on up to the lake for his last shift of the week, and hopefully avoid asshole drivers who thought four-wheel drive gave them the ability to speed regardless of conditions.

His fault or not, Eden would kill him if he wrecked her SUV.

CHAPTER NINE

LAYLA WENT HOME from Sunshine of Your Love shortly after the Rachel discussion, more irritated than she wanted to acknowledge about Sam lecturing her.

Sam. Lecturing her.

And Layla couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel Kelly.

If she had been pregnant, it wasn’t necessarily with Justin’s child. He’d dated her during their senior year, but had he been her only partner? People that age were known to cheat…hell, people of any age cheated. Like, say, Robert.

Layla grabbed the usual handful of junk mail from her box and dug her key out of her jacket pocket just as her phone rang. She let it ring while she opened the door and put down the mail. The phone went silent, then a few seconds later started ringing again.

Her mother or Sam. The persistent people in her life. Layla checked the number before answering.

Her mother. Whom she hadn’t called after being fired. She should have, but it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with her mom. Losing her job was embarrassing—especially when she was the responsible child. It was as if everything she’d stood for had been proved wrong.

Wait—she’d already figured that out. Everything she’d stood for
was
wrong. Perhaps she and her mother would have more common ground now that she was no longer the only Taylor child who hadn’t been fired or gone bankrupt.

“Mom, hi.”

“Hello, Layla love.”

It felt good to hear her voice.

“I’m surprised I haven’t heard from you sooner,” Layla admitted. “Sam said she told you what happened.”

“I thought that it’d be best to wait a few days, give us both some time to get our heads together.” Her mom’s tone sounded off. Stilted.

“I appreciate that.”

“Then why on earth are you thinking about quitting your job?”

Quitting her job?
Crap. Sam had obviously done some damage control for her. Wonderful. It’d be easier to simply go with Sam’s version, but Layla couldn’t bring herself to lie to her parent. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“I didn’t exactly quit. I was asked to transfer back to Life Skills and chose to resign instead.” Okay, she could lie to her parent. She simply couldn’t bring herself to confess that she’d been fired. The word still made a knot form in her stomach.

“You’ve
already
resigned? As in fait accompli?”

Layla sawllowed, feeling shifty and hating it. “Yes.”

“So now I have only one question,” her mother said blandly, before her voice sharpened. “Are you really my eldest daughter? And if not, what have you done with her?”

How was Layla supposed to take that?

“Yes, I am your eldest,” she finally said in a flat tone. “I thought you would be happy I’m trying to stretch my wings. Discover myself.” Not exactly true, but this was language her parents, children of the seventies, understood.

“Layla, honey, you don’t have a good base for wing stretching. If you did, you’d have done it years ago.”

“What?” she demanded, outraged.

“It’s not in your nature to do things like this. Your father and I have discussed the matter, several times in fact, and we agree. Sam says you don’t even have a major. This is very out of character.”

“I disagree.”

“Honey, I think I know your character. You were color coding your clothes when you were four. Reds and pinks in the top drawer—”

“I remember,” Layla said. And there was nothing wrong with a child organizing her clothing. It helped her find what she wanted. It did not mean that she wanted to color code every part of her life.

“So the job is really over. You currently have no means of support.”

“I’m going to graduate school and I have Grandma Bonnie’s inheritance, which, if you recall, she asked in her will that we spend.”

There was a very long silence. “You’ve never in your life spent rainy day money.”

“Maybe I’ve never seen rain,” Layla countered.

“And what’s this about dating Justin?”

“What?” Sam must have been on the phone within seconds of her leaving the shop. Her mother was trying to help; Layla knew that. She was also confusing the heck out of her.

“I went out with him a couple of times.”

“But Justin… Remember how angry he used to make you?”

The key phrase being “used to.” Now he turned her on.

“I thought you loved Justin.”

“I do. He was practically a son…but he is so not right for you.”

“It’s not like I want to marry him.” And then Layla realized one very important fact. As much as she still craved parental approval, she was thirty blinking years old and could make her own decisions—concerning her job, her future and the men she dated.

“People change, Mom. I have.”

“I’m just concerned about too much change in too short a time.”

“What would be the proper length of time?”

“I, uh…”

Her mother trailed off and Layla said, “I’m fine. Taking good care of myself, and Sam will report back if I do anything foolish. I love you, but I have to go. Goodbye, Mom.”

There was a pause, and then her mother said, “Do not make any rash decisions!” just as Layla hung up the phone.

Sheesh.

Talk about a strange and depressing call. Her mom had no faith in her ability to survive without a nine-to-five job and a man in her life who wore a suit and tie. Her siblings seemed fine during their occasional spells of unemployment and sofa surfing and dating questionable people, but her parents had no faith in Layla’s ability to do the same. And she was the oldest. Way too old to be thinking
I’ll show them,
but those exact words were being etched into her mind, and it took some effort to stop the process.

She couldn’t really blame people for expecting her to act as she always had. But she wasn’t the same person she’d been even a month ago, and they’d better get used to that.

BY THE TIME EDEN returned from service, Justin was once again in his pastry room, piping filling into éclairs.

“The cake delivery went well?” she asked as she leaned against the doorjamb.

“Did you see any dents on your vehicle?” Justin asked without looking up.

“None that I didn’t put there myself.” She’d checked. He’d known she would. Anything for ammo. Eden shifted slightly. “I’ve been driving you crazy and I apologize.”

Justin glanced up, his eyebrows raised. “Is this reverse psychology?”

Eden brushed the hair away from her temple. “This is your sister asking you to slow down.”

Justin nodded.

“But you’re not going to, are you?”

He started piping again. “I’m giving your suggestions some deep thought.”

He heard her inhale sharply, waited for the explosion, but it didn’t come. And he didn’t dare look at her, for fear of triggering it.

Finally, Eden said, “I don’t care how you live your life as long as it doesn’t affect business.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You need to slow down.”

“I will.”

“Liar.”

He glanced up at her and smiled. “I’ve not even thirty. I can handle this.”

“Then maybe you can handle telling me what the hell is bugging you?”

He tried to hold the smile, but failed. Something about a deep emotional jab to his midsection.

“Whatever is bugging me—and I’m not saying something is bugging me—will not affect business. And if something bugs me in the future I won’t let it affect business. I never have and I never will. Okay?”

Eden raised her hands in surrender. “Fine.” She backed out of the room without another word, leaving Justin with a decidedly unsettled feeling.

It wasn’t like Eden to suddenly give up. But maybe she was finally starting to get it through her head that Justin was under no obligation to share.

THIS WAS IT. Zero hour. The worst Justin could do was reject her again.

Even so, Layla pulled open the door to Tremont Catering with more confidence than she felt. After the phone call with her mother the previous day, and more than an hour with a UNR advisor today discussing the merits of a straight education masters versus one in another field, such as psychology, only one thing was certain—absolutely nothing. And that was the attitude Layla had when she walked into the kitchen. Nothing was certain. She could live with that. She hoped.

Recent events had taught her that even if you played by the rules, unexpected circumstances could swamp your life, change its direction forever. And reconnect you with a guy from your past that you’d never dreamed you wanted to be reconnected with.

Surely there had to be a reason for that?

“Hello?” she called as she stood in the empty waiting area. The door to the kitchen was propped open with a cast-iron Eiffel Tower.

Layla heard footsteps in response to her call. Light footsteps, not Justin’s heavier tread. Oh, well.

She was nervous, so she smiled her teacher smile when Eden came around the corner, her blond hair pulled up into a messy knot that suited her cheerleader good looks. Layla had always wished her hair would cooperate with knots and rubber bands, but it didn’t. She had one hairdo and she was wearing it. Fine, dark hair with a slight wave brushing her shoulders.

“Layla?”

Eden actually sounded friendly. That was a plus. The two of them had graduated from the same high school the same year, but despite having brothers who were practically joined at the hip, had never found a comfortable ground on which to build a friendship, perhaps because their social lives were polar opposites. Eden had been the perky, popular cheerleader, while Layla hid out in the library, held office in the Honor Society and belonged to several small clubs with the other shy, studious kids.

Loserville, in the teen way of seeing things, but she’d never felt like a loser. Just impatient for high school to be over so she could get on with her life, follow her plans. Show those popular kids what a serious student could accomplish in the real world, away from the cliques and popularity contests.

That hadn’t worked out too well for her of late.

“Hi, Eden. I, uh…is Justin here?”

Exactly what was she going to say if he was? Layla straightened her back. She was going to ask him out. Again. And when he said no, she was going to ask him why not. At the very least she figured he’d want to discuss matters privately rather than here at the kitchen, and would agree to set something up.

That was the master plan, anyway. She’d refused to let herself practice the words. She was going to wing it…when she got the chance.

“No. He won’t be in until tomorrow.”

Layla felt a huge rush of disappointment mixed with relief.

Eden cocked her head. “Did you leave something else in his car?”

She smiled again, knowing it probably came off as a grimace. “No. I just wanted to see him.”

“Anything I can help you with?” his sister asked, obviously fishing.

“I don’t think so. It doesn’t involve the kitchen.” Layla didn’t mean to sound mysterious, but she was hardly going to say, “I just want to proposition your brother.” Nope. Couldn’t see doing that.

Eden slowly nodded her head, her fingertips resting lightly on the counter in front of her, a flashy engagement ring catching the light on her left hand. “Forgive me for saying this, but it’s kind of strange having you and Justin—” she gestured as she searched for words “—in contact.”

“Kind of like worlds colliding?”

The corners of Eden’s mouth tilted up. Surprise, no doubt, that Layla was showing a bit of spunk instead of clamming up as she usually did when things got personal. “Exactly.”

“I don’t know about Justin’s world, but I can tell you that lately mine has been, well, bizarre.”

“How so?”

“It started when Justin walked into that bar at Lake Tahoe to rescue me. Then that photo of me throwing up went viral through the student community, and I ended up getting fired.”