Luke had a feeling Missy had never been out of favor with Harris Bragg for one second over anything. She was the kind of woman who did what she wanted and made the man who loved her like it. Luke remembered what that had felt like.
“Thank you for bringing Emma today.”
“No problem. Emma is precious. Plus, when Emma is around, Beau doesn’t try to draft his sick, pregnant mother into playing Kill The Big Spiders, a game of his own invention.”
Missy didn’t look sick. She looked energized, like she reveled in pregnancy. Like Carrie had.
“How goes your search for a nanny?” Missy asked.
“I’m working with an agency in Birmingham. They’re sending three for me to interview tomorrow. If one of them doesn’t work out, I don’t know what’s next.”
“Have you tried finding someone in town?”
“I’m not opposed to it. Do you know anybody?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’ve already asked my housekeeper and she didn’t know of anyone. If I hear of someone, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks again, Missy. Once I get a nanny, I’ll return the favor. Emma, we need to go. Come and say your thank yous.”
• • •
Four hours, one diner meal, two games of Candy Land, and three stories later, Luke settled into a chair on the balcony behind his apartment. He opened a beer and turned on the baby monitor. It was a little balmy for March — the perfect weather for a run. If Lanie had been home, he might have asked her to listen for Emma on the monitor so he could go. Or maybe not. But it was a moot point. Though her car was parked beside his, the shop was dark and when Emma had wanted to show Lanie her crown, there had been no answer at her apartment door.
Lanie didn’t seem overly fond of him, but she always had a smile and sweet word for Emma. Come to think of it, she’d make a good nanny. She seemed to understand toddler logic perfectly and Emma went into raptures every time they saw each other. Too bad her shop was doing so well. Of course, judging from what she charged for rent, he probably couldn’t afford her — and he could afford a lot. If she ever went bankrupt, he’d make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. There would be a bonus if she’d get rid of the casserole brigade. The second wave had started as soon as they’d gotten their dishes back. Maybe he’d put out the word around town that he’d seen rats in the candy kitchen. Yeah. He’d seen her fishing them out of a vat of fudge. If that wouldn’t close down a candy business, nothing would.
The lights of a big black truck drew Luke back from his shameful fantasizing. That would be Nathan Scott, Lanie’s boyfriend, and yep, Lanie was with him. Back before Nathan Scott destroyed his knee during his senior season, back when he’d been the favorite Heisman trophy hopeful and a surefire first round NFL draft pick, the press had called him Angel. If he’d ever known, Luke had forgotten why, but it probably had something to do with his flawless face. Asshole.
Luke opened a second beer.
The truck stopped behind Luke’s car and Lanie jumped out holding a square takeout container. For once, she wasn’t wearing those candy clothes. In fact, she had on a skirt. Luke sneaked a peek at her legs. If he was going to fantasize about her bankruptcy, he certainly wasn’t above ogling another man’s girlfriend. If he’d been Scott, he’d have opened the truck door for her. Mr. Touchdown unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. He certainly hadn’t dressed up for his date. Trust a football coach to go out in shorts the minute it got over forty degrees. And he was wearing a baseball cap. He’d probably worn it in Applebee’s. They’d probably come upstairs now and have sex. Maybe Mr. Touchdown would wear that ball cap during sex. Maybe she’d wear that skirt and pull it up over her tempting sweet thighs. Or maybe she’d put on one of those candy aprons. Probably Scott liked them. Maybe she’d stop in the shop to get some fudge and he’d eat it off her thigh. Or maybe they’d go more with a football theme and work in a whistle and cheerleader uniform. Maybe Scott would be the one to wear the little skirt and knee socks. There would be pom-poms involved. That was a given.
But wait. They’d stopped right below where Luke sat. He couldn’t see them now, but he could hear them clearly.
“Don’t lean on Luke’s car,” Lanie said. “He wouldn’t like it.”
Thanks, Lanie. I don’t like it. Not one bit.
“I’m not hurting it.”
And where did you learn your extensive knowledge of what will and will not hurt a fine German engineered sports car? Coach school?
“Do you want to come upstairs?”
Yep. Time to get down to business.
“Nah. I can’t stay. I’ve got game film to watch. Let’s just sit out here a minute.”
Huh? Oh, right. Clearly game film is more exciting than a pair of first-class legs wrapped around you. Idiot.
“Don’t sit on Luke’s car!”
Yeah, Mr. Touchdown! Don’t sit on my car!
“Okay! Okay! I’ll sit on your car. Move over. And give me the rest of your chicken.”
Asshole. Don’t take her chicken. She works hard. She might need it tomorrow.
“I might want it later.”
That’s telling him, Lanie.
“Not as much as I do. And you won’t eat it. You know you won’t.”
How is it you know she won’t eat it? She eats. I’ve seen her. At least, I think I have.
“Especially if I don’t have it.” Heavy sigh. “Here. Go ahead.”
No, Lanie! Don’t give him your chicken.
“Oh, man. It’s fried. I thought it was grilled. You know I don’t eat fried food. And didn’t you bring the dipping sauce?”
Get your own damned sauce.
“Sorry. Next time I’ll order to suit your tastes.”
She’s being sarcastic, Mr. Touchdown. Did you catch that or are you too busy eating chicken?
“I appreciate that.”
I doubt that. You don’t seem the appreciative type.
“Whatever it takes to make you happy, coach. Whatever it takes.”
You think he can be made happy? He’s already turned down sex. Offer it to me. Wait. Don’t. I didn’t mean that, even in my head.
“By the way, one of the Booster Club members gave me tickets to some shindig at the country club in May.”
Good for you.
“It’s a benefit ball for breast cancer.” Lanie laughed a little under her breath. “Don’t tell anybody this, but we call it the Breast Ball. The tickets are five hundred dollars a pair. And someone just gave them to you?”
Better explain to him, Lanie, that this ball is not made of pigskin.
“I’m an ex-star, baby. Good things come to me.”
And you turn them down. She asked you upstairs, moron.
“Emphasis on ex. Have a losing season this fall and the only ticket you’ll get is out of town.”
Good girl.
“I don’t plan on losing. You have no respect for my status.”
What status? It’s not like the governor appointed you to anything.
“Not a bit.”
That’s telling him.
“Well, anyway, what do you think about this ball? We could go. Since it’s free and all.”
Oh, why not, because clearly she’s not worth spending money on!?
There was a moment of silence, and then Lanie spoke. “Sure you don’t want to take a real date?”
Huh?
“You’re real enough for me at this juncture. Let me get through my first season, and I’ll shop for better.”
Oh, boy, have you got an ass-kicking coming! I hope — I pray — you get in trouble and end up in my courtroom. I cannot wait.
“Well — ”
Lanie! You are not going to tell him yes. You can’t! He insulted you. Hit him with your chicken box! Chase him back to that macho truck. Do it now. Don’t laugh! He’s not funny!
“If a real guy asks you, I won’t hold you to it. But you’d be sorry after you see me in a tux.”
They laughed some more and then walked back into Luke’s sight. Without touching Lanie, Scott got in his truck and backed out — though he didn’t drive off until she entered the building.
Luke sat with an open mouth and empty beer bottle. Whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t romantic. They were pretending to date! Clearly, for whatever reason, neither wanted a real relationship. Maybe Nathan Scott was gay. Yeah. He liked that idea. Lanie’s reasons were not as clear.
But pretending to date — it was a brilliant idea. He should have thought of it.
Making filled complicated shaped candies required a steady hand and complete concentration. Nothing would do except the thinnest chocolate shell, and the filling had to be the perfect temperature. Lanie required solitude for this chore, which was why she’d been in the candy kitchen since 4
A.M.
making tiny chocolate bunnies. Getting the caramel, peanut butter, or truffle filling in the ears was tedious enough but unmolding them without ending up with earless rabbits was the real challenge. Knowing that Phillip and Kathryn would be in at 6:30, she wanted to be finished by 6:15 and it looked like she might just make it. There was just this last tray of orange white truffle flavored ones to unmold. Then she’d have some coffee and rest for a few minutes before moving on to the less tedious filled eggs. A gentle tap, tap on the counter and —
Slam
went the stairwell door and chocolate rabbits went flying. Damn, damn, damn. Luke Avery flew into the kitchen wearing running clothes. Was that man put on earth to cause her to drop candy on the floor?
“Hi!”
She grimaced at him. He looked good. He smelled good, even from across the room, even over the smell of chocolate. She grimaced harder.
He was more energized than she’d ever seen him. Come to think of it, right now he had a lot in common with that battery-operated bunny. Maybe she should dip him in chocolate.
Or not. He looked around. “You spilled your chocolate rabbits.”
“No kidding?”
“It happens.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve hired a nanny. She’ll be here any second. I just wanted to tell you so if you see her, you’ll know who she is. I’m going to let her in and then go for a run.”
Maybe this nanny was one of those young French girls with a string shopping bag and a sexy accent. That’s all they needed around here.
“Fabulous. I guess you left Emma up there alone?”
He pulled a baby monitor from his pocket. “She’s sound asleep. I need to give Mrs. Bumpus a key and the security code but I didn’t want to do it without telling you. I assure you, it’s fine. Not only does the agency do a complete background check, but it turns out she was nanny to a guy I went to law school with.”
Not young then. She might still have a string shopping bag but that would be okay.
“Does Emma like her?” Lanie asked.
“They haven’t met, but I’m sure she will. Mrs. Bumpus took care of my classmate, his siblings, several cousins, and a niece. But they’re out of kids.”
Lanie almost suggested that it might not be the best plan to let Emma wake up to find herself in the care of a woman she’d never seen before, but the back bell rang.
“There she is!” Luke said excitedly and he was gone.
Lanie sighed and set about sweeping up some very expensive trash, all the while hoping that the nanny had apple cheeks, a sweet smile, and bag full of magic and kindness.
• • •
Easter orders were pouring in and Lanie made candy nonstop through lunch and after. She’d been vaguely aware of some comings and goings out the back door but had no time to investigate this Mrs. Bumpus — no matter how curious she was.
She’d just finished the last of the chocolate stars when she heard the part time help come in. That meant that it was after school. She stepped into the shipping and receiving room.
“Allison,” she said. “I’m finished. I’ve got to go upstairs and get something to eat. After you get everything shipped, will you have Angela clean up after me?”
“Sure. Get some rest. We’ll take care of it and we’ll help Kathryn and Phillip if they need us.”
In her fatigue, Lanie had almost forgotten about the new nanny, forgotten Emma was not with Missy, so she was puzzled when she heard crying coming from Luke’s apartment.
She started to open the door to her apartment, but hesitated. The crying continued. She stood outside Luke’s door and waited. Still, Emma continued to cry. Wasn’t that woman doing anything to comfort the child? Finally, she knocked.
The door swung open and the woman who stood there was not apple cheeked nor did she have a bag of magic. If fact, from the look of her, if she believed in magic at all, it was probably the kind that came from frog heads and bat wings.
She was thin to the point of emaciation and dressed in a dark blue dress. It wasn’t a uniform but it could have been. Her gray hair lay in short tight curls. It was not the kind of hair that would cause any trouble. She didn’t smile.
The crying went on. Lanie looked behind the woman but didn’t catch sight of Emma. Then she realized the crying was coming from the kitchen.
“Hello. You must be Mrs. Bumpus. I’m Lanie Heaven. I live across the hall.”
“And run the candy shop, I see.” Mrs. Bumpus gave her jellybean-scattered clothes a disapproving stare.
The crying continued. “Is everything all right?” Lanie asked.
“Everything is fine.” She came as close to smiling as Lanie suspected she ever had. “Emma is learning some new lessons today.”
About what? How to cry?
The crying turned to a scream. “Daddy! I want my daddy!”
Mrs. Bumpus said, “If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Heaven.” She made to close the door.
Without thinking, Lanie stuck her foot inside. “No, excuse
me
.” And she barreled past the old witch toward the noise that was breaking her heart.
“Now, see here, Ms. Heaven!” The old witch was hot on her trail.
Emma lay on the kitchen floor where she had been barricaded with a baby gate. Her face was red and swollen and she had the hiccups. As soon as the child saw Lanie, she clumsily got to her feet, toddled to the door, and held her arms out over the gate.
“Lanie! Lanie!” she sobbed.
Lanie reached for her and Mrs. Bumpus stepped between them, which made Emma cry harder.