The Cottage on the Corner (22 page)

“At six. Dress warm,” Max cut in as he lifted Zuzu onto her Big Wheel.

“Dress warm for what?”

“Our picnic in the moonlight,” he responded. “You haven't forgotten already, have you?”

“I thought you were taking your hot date there.”

“I am, but only because she refused to go out to dinner as friends.” He dropped a quick hard kiss on her lips, gave Zuzu a gentle nudge toward the town center, and started jogging along behind her.

“We are not going on a hot date!” Charlotte shouted after him.

He probably heard, but he pretended not to, his gaze fixed on Zuzu.

Darn the man!

He'd set her up.

She should be upset about it, but she was smiling as she finished hanging the lights and humming Christmas carols as she walked inside the house and made a pot of tea.

 

 

Making a cake was not supposed to be difficult.

Was it?

Max looked at the lumpy, gooey mess that he'd dumped onto a plate and scowled.

“Yucky!” Zuzu said, peering over the edge of the counter and staring at the brown goop.

“You think?” The sarcasm was lost on Zuzu.

She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “Yes.”

“Then it's good you don't have to eat it.” He used a spoon to try to pile the mess into something that resembled a cake. All he succeeded in doing was splattering batter on the wall. “Sh—oot!”

He'd been trying to clean up his language.

Little pitchers had big ears.

At least that's what Ida had said when she'd heard him cuss in front of Zuzu. She had a point. If he wasn't careful, Zuzu would be wandering around town spouting words no three-year-old should know.

“You made a mess!” Zuzu accused, her gaze sharply focused on the flecks of chocolate that dotted the walls.

Someone knocked on the door.

Emma. It had to be. She was early, but he wasn't going to complain. The last hour of Zuzu's chatter had driven him almost to the brink of insanity. She'd talked so much, he'd been tempted to invest in a pair of earplugs.

He yanked open the door and let Emma in.

Her eyes were shadowed, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She wore dark blue jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. No makeup. No snide look in her eyes. She could have been ten or fifteen rather than twenty-five.

“You look like hell,” he said. “Are you sure you're up to babysitting?”

“Thanks,” she growled. “Yes. And watch your language around the kid.”

“I've been working on it.”

“Hmph!” She carried a huge duffle to his coffee table and dropped it there.

“You planning to spend the night?”

“I'm planning to entertain a precocious three-year-old.”

“And you thought you needed an entire bag of tricks to do it?”

She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and looked at him like he was an idiot. “From what I've heard, I may need more than that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Jordyn Lancaster told Tate Gordon that Zuzu is the smartest kid she's ever met.”

“She told me the same thing.” As a matter of fact, the young nurse had said it at least a dozen times during Zuzu's appointment. “Why was she saying it to Eli and why did Tate say it to you?”

“We ran into each other at the district courthouse today.”

“You got another speeding ticket?”

“I've only gotten two, Max, and you're the one who issued them,” she responded with a scowl.

“I've got to do my job. No matter—”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for someone who cares.” She tightened her ponytail and crossed her arms over her chest. “As I was saying, I was at the courthouse, and I ran into Tate. He mentioned how impressed Jordyn was with Zuzu.”

“So Jordyn and Tate are an item now?”

If so, Max was surprised.

A divorce lawyer turned college professor, Tate lived on the east edge of town with his three kids. His wife April had died a few weeks after the youngest was born. That had been Max's first year in town. He'd heard lots of talk about the couple and their perfect marriage, perfect children, perfect house on the edge of town. There wasn't a woman in Apple Valley who hadn't thought Tate would marry again before the year was out.

He'd need someone to care for his poor daughters. Or so the blue-haired ladies at the diner had said.

Over and over again.

Tate hadn't remarried. The girls were doing just fine, and the gossips had finally shut up about the situation. Hopefully Tate didn't ruin that by entering the local dating arena. Since he and Max were friends and hunting buddies, it was only right that Max let him know that.

“He helped Jordyn with her divorce last year. She
says
that she and Tate are dating, but you know how she likes to exaggerate things.”

“More than rabbits like carrots. More than the Red Hat club ladies like their purple shampoo.”

She laughed. “Thanks, Max.”

“For what?”

“Making me laugh. I needed it.”

“Bad day with your dad?”

“Bad day all around.” She unzipped the duffle and pulled out Play-Doh. Twenty-four different colors. “But I'm going to put it behind me. Zuzu and I are going to have a blast tonight. Aren't we, hun?”

“No,” Zuzu responded, shoving her thumb into her mouth and clambering onto the couch. She'd already taken her bath. He'd done his best to brush her hair, but it was sticking out in about five different directions. Despite his best efforts to get her into one of the pretty new pairs of pajamas the historical society had brought, she'd insisted on wearing the god-awful footy pajamas she'd arrived in. He could see a little hole in one foot and another under the arm.

She looked like a ragamuffin.

A very angry ragamuffin.

“Sure you are, Zu,” he cajoled, because there was no way in hell he was missing his date with Charlotte. “Emma is a fun person.”

“Not tonight she's not,” Emma muttered under her breath, but she walked back to the bag and pulled out a coloring book with a princess on the front cover. “That's okay, Max. She doesn't have to have fun with me. I can have fun all by myself.” She dragged a brand-new box of crayons from the duffle. “I'm going to color princesses—”

“I'm a princess,” Zuzu said, the words muffled by her thumb.

Emma didn't seem to have any trouble understanding her.

“I know—”

“Don't feed her delusion, Em. She'll be wanting to walk around in a crown all day.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Obviously, you don't understand, Max. Every girl is a princess. Right, Zuzu?”

Zuzu nodded, her eyes wide.

“That's why we're going to make crowns, too!” Emma pulled out some weird Styrofoam-looking crowns and a bunch of glitter glue.

“Wow!” Zuzu said with obvious wonder. “I want pink.”

“That's good, because I like yellow.” Emma extended her hand and Zuzu took it.

They walked into the kitchen together.

Max grabbed the wicker picnic basket that Tessa had lent him when he'd called and asked her advice about dinner with Charlotte. The thing had cups, plates, an old-fashioned Thermos, and containers for food. It was a relic of the past, probably something Tessa had saved from the shop her sister and brother-in-law had once run.

It fit the occasion.

But that was Tessa. She loved reusing old things, making them work for new situations.

He carried the basket into the kitchen and set it on the counter. He'd already filled the Thermos with wine, put grapes in one container and cheese that Ida had provided in another. Gourmet. According to Ida, that was the way to go. He'd consulted both women. That probably surprised him as much as it surprised them.

This date mattered, though. More than others he'd been on.

That might mean nothing or it might mean everything.

He wanted to find out.

Oddly, because he'd never felt the need to do it with any other woman he'd dated, he wanted to impress Charlotte. Not just the normal kind of good impression that everyone attempted when they went on a date. He wanted to make the kind of impression that stuck in Charlotte's mind, made her remember the night long after it was over. Tessa and Ida knew more about Charlotte than anyone in town, but even they'd been at a loss as to what her perfect first date would be.

He'd come up with the idea of a picnic.

They'd come up with everything else.

Cheese. Grapes. Wine.

Chocolate.

He looked at the mess he'd left on the counter.

“What in the world is that?” Emma asked, poking at the congealed mess.

“Cake.”

She looked at the chocolate that coated her finger, sniffed it, her nose wrinkling. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I'm sure. I even used one of Charlotte's recipes.”

“I love Charlotte!” Zuzu crowed as she climbed into a chair and lifted one of the Styrofoam crowns.

“You and everyone else. If
I
didn't like her so much, that would totally annoy me,” Emma responded. She nabbed the index card Max had left on the counter and studied it. “This looks easy enough.”

“That's what I thought, but if it were, I'd have cake instead of goo.”

She nodded, setting the card back down. “Don't feel too bad. Charlotte gave me a recipe for pumpkin scones about a year ago. I followed it exactly, but my scones were more like hockey pucks than food. I tried to feed them to Dad's chickens. Even they were too smart to eat them.”

“Yeah. Well, I'm not going to serve this to Charlotte. That's for sure.” He dumped the mess into the trash.

“Good thing I stopped by her place to get some treats for Zuzu.” She ran back into the living room and returned with a brown paper bag.

She thrust it into his hand. “Here you are.”

“What is it?”

“Brownies and cookies. Maybe a cupcake or two. When I told Charlotte I was coming over here, she donated what she had left from her day to the cause.”

“I can't feed her stuff she baked.” But he sure wouldn't mind eating it.

“Would you rather scrape the goo out of your trash can and hand that to her on a plate?”

“I'd rather that da . . . rn cake had turned out.” He opened the bag, took out two plastic-wrapped brownies. “I can smell them through the wrappers.”

“I know. My stomach has been growling all the way here.” She sighed longingly.

“Want me to leave you one?” Sharing a brownie with Charlotte might prove to be a lot more interesting than having his own.

“Nope. I'm just as happy with whatever else is in there.” She snatched the paper bag back. “And I can tell you right now, that I'm going to eat every single thing that's left after Zuzu has her snack.”

“Don't give Zuzu too many sweets. She'll have trouble sleeping.”

“Good to know,” she muttered, dropping the bag onto the counter. “Fill me in on the kid. What time does she go to bed?”

“Eight-thirty. Earlier if you want. I did everything I could to wear her out today.”

“She ate dinner?”

If canned spaghetti counted as dinner, she had.

“Sure.”

“Max—”

“She ate. She had a bath. We checked under the bed three times to make sure the bad man wasn't there.”

She nodded like that made perfect sense. “What about her M-O-M?”

“What about her?”

“If she calls, should I put Zuzu on the phone with her?”

“Yes, but she won't call until after Zuzu is asleep. Don't wake her to talk to Mor . . .” He glanced at Zuzu. She seemed engrossed in trying to make the crown fit her head, but that didn't mean she wasn't listening. “Don't wake her if she's asleep.”

“Got it. Anything else I need to know?”

“Pete is prowling the neighborhood. He'll scratch at the door when he's ready to come in.”

“I love Pete!” Zuzu said.

“I think you love everyone, kid,” he responded, kissing her on the head. “You be good while I'm gone, okay?”

“Don't go, Maxi.” She grabbed his hand and held on tight. She'd been left by her mother, and he thought she must be terrified that he was leaving her, too.

“It's okay, Zuzu. I won't be gone long.” He picked her up, patted her back the way he had a dozen times before. Every single time, it felt more natural. Every single time, she cuddled just a little closer, relaxed just a little more. He'd become her lifeline, her provider, her . . .
father figure?

That scared the hell out of him, but he couldn't do anything less for the kid than what he was doing, because Zuzu deserved so much more.

“Where are you going, Maxi?” She laid her hand on his face and looked into his eyes, just like she always did.

“Out with Charlotte. Remember? We talked about this.”

“I want to come, too.”

“You're going to stay with Emma and make crowns.”

“No!”

“Zu—”

“It's okay. I've got this,” Emma cut in, taking Zuzu from his arms.

Or trying to.

She clung like a monkey.

He had to pull her arms away, and he felt like a cad and a loser when she started crying.

“Better get your stuff and get going,” Emma said over the sound of Zuzu's sobs.

“Maybe—”

“She's going to be fine. If she doesn't calm down in a few minutes, I'll give you a call.”

She thrust the basket into his hand, gave him a little shove between the shoulder blades.

He went, because he'd told Charlotte that he'd be at her place at six, but there was a big part of him that thought he should stay.

Good golly!

The woman was holding out a dead rat.

At least that's what it looked like to Charlotte.

Apparently, Gertrude thought it looked like a trendy fashion statement.

“I'm telling you right now, she needs to wear the fur hat. It adds just a touch of whimsy to the outfit,” Gertrude griped, her hands fisted on her hips, her orange hair standing on end. Just beyond her shoulder, the living room window sparkled with red, green, and blue Christmas lights. Zim had stopped by as soon as Max left and insisted on hanging them.

They looked pretty against the evening dark.

The hat, on the other hand, looked like roadkill.

Charlotte was tempted to tell Gertrude that the 1920s fur cap that she was offering looked like something Max's old tomcat might have dragged in, but she didn't want to offend the woman.

Besides, the clock was ticking, and Max would be there any minute. She needed to get the McKenzies out of her house before then, because she did
not
want him to know that Tessa and Gertrude had stopped by to offer Charlotte fashion advice.

Gertrude's idea, apparently, and it was a little embarrassing that a seventy-something-year-old woman thought Charlotte needed help figuring out what to wear on a date.

“Whimsy? Give me a break, Gertrude. Charlotte doesn't want to look whimsical,” Tessa responded, rolling her eyes and sighing. “She wants to look elegant and sophisticated, right?”

“Umm . . .” Charlotte glanced down at her dark blue skinny jeans and mint green sweater. If they were elegant and sophisticated, she had it made.

“Elegant? Sophisticated?” Gertrude spat. “Please! Go ahead, Charlotte, put the hat on.”

“Don't. The thing looks like a dead rat, and that's
not
a good look on anyone,” Tessa pronounced emphatically. “Is it, Alex?” She glanced at her nephew.

He sat on the couch, the cookie Charlotte had handed him when he'd arrived with his aunts loose in his left hand. His right fingers tapped a rhythm on his thigh. He nodded his head in time with it.

“Alex?” Tessa prodded. “What do you think about Gertrude's fur hat?”

He raised his head, looked into Charlotte's eyes, his gaze steady for just a heartbeat before it drifted away. “It looks like a dead rat.”

Tessa laughed. “That's one of the many things I love about you, Alex. You're always honest.”

He nodded, his fingers still tapping away. “Charlotte doesn't need a hat. She's pretty without one.”

“Thank you, Alex,” Charlotte said, oddly touched by his pronouncement.

“Well,” Gertrude huffed. “If you are going to all gang up against me and my hat, I'll just head on home and put it away.”

“What we should all be doing is going home.” Tessa glanced at her watch and frowned. “Max will be here any second now.”

“If you and Alex are leaving, I'll stay.” Gertrude thrust the hat into Tessa's hands. “I need to make sure Max knows the rules.”

“Gertrude,” Tess warned. “Don't start.”

“Start what?”

“Anything. That's what. Charlotte is a grown woman. Max is a grown man. They don't need you to stick your nose into their business.”

“That's not what you were saying when we decided to come over and see what Charlotte was wearing on her ho—”

“Gertrude!” Tessa warned, shooting Charlotte an apologetic smile. “Sorry about my aunt. She's—”

“Standing right here, and if there needs to be any apology for me, I'll be the one doing it!”

“Right. Fine. Obviously you're in one of your ornery moods. Come on, Alex. Let's get out of here.” Tessa took her nephew's hand and led him out the front door.

“Have fun, Charlotte,” she said with a kind smile. “And don't overthink things. Just relax and go with the flow and see where it takes you.”

That wasn't going to be easy, considering that she was already overthinking things.

“Okay,” she replied, because she didn't have time to explain all the reasons why her heart was thundering and her thoughts were racing. She didn't really want to explain. She liked to keep her private life private. She'd never told anyone about her marriage or Brett's betrayal.

Until Max.

She'd told him everything, and she didn't quite know how to feel about that. Relieved? Worried?

“Call me tomorrow morning and fill me in on the details,” Tessa called over her shoulder as she and Alex made their way across the yard.

Two down. One to go.

She met Gertrude's eyes. “You really don't have to stay, Gertrude.”

“Does that mean you want me to go? If it does, why don't you just say it without beating around the bush?” Gertrude demanded.

Charlotte was about to utter an emphatic
yes, I want you to leave,
when Max pulled into the driveway. She couldn't see him through the darkness, but her insides went all hot and liquidy at the
thought
of seeing him.

This picnic thing?

It was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

Max got out of the car, waving as he walked across the yard. “Good evening, Ms. Gertrude.”

“Don't Ms. Gertrude me, you cad!”

“What'd I do?”

“It's not what you've
done
. It's what you might be
planning
that I'm worried about!”

“What I'm planning,” Max said calmly, “is a nice quiet picnic under the stars, so I really hope that you're not planning to come along.”

“I'm sure I'm not invited, but I feel the need to warn you—”

“Gertrude,” Charlotte finally managed to cut in. “There's no need to warn anyone.”

“That's what all the girls think about ten seconds before they're barefoot and pregnant, standing over a hot pot of gruel because it's all they can afford.”

Max laughed. “You sure do know how to spin a tale.”

“What tale? It's the way it always works. The guy just wants to get in the girl's—”

“You know what?” Charlotte said hastily. “I'd better get my purse and lock up so we can get out of here.”

She ran into the house, grabbed her purse, and took a few deep breaths. At the rate things were going, this night was going to be a disaster.

“Ready?” Max stuck his head in the open doorway.

“Is she gone?”

“Tessa came and dragged her back home.” He grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa and helped her into it, his fingers sliding against her nape as he adjusted the collar.

“I'm sure she was fighting and screaming the whole way.”

“Something like that.” He smiled, but there was a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

Not because they were going out. Charlotte was certain of that. The guy had been on more dates in the past few months than she'd been on in the past three years. If anyone should be nervous, it was her.

“What's wrong, Max?” She touched his arm.

“Zuzu wasn't happy when I left.”

“She didn't like Emma?”

“I think she did. She just didn't want me to go.”

“Then you shouldn't have.”

“I had to.”

A simple statement, but she heard a boatload of meaning in it. Zuzu would go back to Morgan eventually. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but at some point it was going to happen.

“I'm sorry, Max. This is going to be tough. No matter which way things work out.”

“I know.” He opened the Corvette door and helped her in.

“We could go back to your place and bring Zuzu out for ice cream or something.”

“This is our night, and it's going to be a good one. So how about we stop talking about Zuzu?” He shut the door and ended the conversation.

They drove to the town center in strained silence.

So much for a nice romantic evening.

If Charlotte had wanted one, she would have been disappointed.

Fortunately she hadn't wanted one.

Much.

Max parked close to the sheriff's department, the Christmas lights that hung around its windows mocking the tense mood in the car.

This was a mistake. She should never have agreed to go with Max. Relationships were trouble. At least in her life they'd always been.

He turned off the car engine, took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Charlotte. The situation with Zuzu is making me tense, but I don't have any right to take it out on you.”

“It's okay.” It was. Especially because it had reminded her of what a big mistake she was making.

“No. It's not okay.” He sounded so sincere. He looked sincere. “But I'm going to make it up to you. I already carried the stuff for the picnic into the park. Let's go relax and enjoy the evening.”

He got out of the car and rounded it while she sat like a lump, her heart beating a heavy sickening beat.

She wanted to go into the park with him, lie under his grandmother's furs, and look at the moon that was just rising over the mountains. She wanted to listen to him talk about Zuzu and Morgan and all the reasons why he was stressed and worried. Heck, she'd be happy to listen to him talk about anything. She loved his voice. She loved his hands. His smile.

He opened her door and smiled quizzically. “You ready?”

“Max, I really don't think this is a good idea.”

“I know.” He took her hand and tugged her from the car.

“Then why are we doing it?” Somehow her right hand settled on his chest, and her left hand settled on his shoulder.

“Because you haven't told me no, yet.”

That was her chance, her opening. He was handing it right to her. He was even waiting for her to take it.

She knew what she should say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but the words wouldn't come. “I can't, because I don't know what I want.”

“That's a cop-out, Charlotte.”

“It's the truth.”

“Here's the truth.” He covered her right hand with his, pressed it closer to his leather coat. She could almost swear she felt his heart beating beneath the thick fabric. “We always have choices in life. To be safe or to take chances. I'm choosing to take a chance on you. On us, because I think we're going to be good together.”

“What if we're not?”

“Then what have we lost?”

Everything.

Heart. Soul. Dreams. All of them dying.

It wasn't worth it. Not even for whatever she and Max might have together. And she thought he was right. Whatever it was, it would be good.

The silence went on a moment too long. She could feel it. Feel the way his body tensed. See his eyes cool. His hand slipped from hers, and her opportunity to choose slipped with it.

“It's fine, Charlotte. I'm not the kind of guy to push myself on someone.”

He wasn't. She knew it. And she knew that he wouldn't show up at her house with Zuzu asking for cookies again or put locks on her doors or talk about picnics under the moonlight.

“Come on. I'll take you home.” He pivoted and walked to the other side of the car.

She felt cold. Not just because of the frigid temperatures, either. It was the same kind of cold she'd felt the day after she'd married Brett. She'd woken up beside him, her blood running ice cold through her body as she looked at the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with. He'd drunk himself into a stupor after their wedding, and she'd had to tuck him into bed like a child.

You made a mistake,
her mind had whispered.

It whispered the same thing as Max got behind the wheel of the car.

She could see how it was all going to play out. He'd drive her home, drop her off, watch as she walked into her house. She'd peek out the living room window as he drove away and wish that she'd had the guts to give things a go.

Once he was gone, she'd pull out the boxes she'd dragged from the attic and finish going through them. She'd already seen dozens of things that Mary had left behind. Old photos and dresses and even a diary.

One day Charlotte would be gone and another woman would find her things boxed up with no one to claim them.

How pitiful was that?

“Charlotte, since we're not going on our picnic, I'd really like to get home,” Max said wearily.

She got in the car, closed the door, her movements wooden and stiff.

Just tell him you want to go on that picnic!
her brain shouted, but her mouth stayed firmly shut all the way back to her empty little house.

He opened her car door. He even walked her to the porch.

But he didn't tell her she was beautiful, he didn't kiss her good night. When he said good-bye, it sounded like forever, and that should have been fine.

She peeked out the window as he drove away. Just like she'd known she would. When his car disappeared from sight, she dragged the largest of the boxes into the living room and knelt on the floor, lifting out one item after another and telling herself that the tears that were rolling down her cheeks were for the woman who'd left the box. Poor sweet Mary who'd died alone in a nursing home because she hadn't had any family.

Yeah.

That was
exactly
why she was crying.

She swiped at her face.

She was a coward, and because of it, she was going to die a lonely old woman. If she were lucky, she'd find a nice young lady who'd be willing to visit her in her old age. She'd leave the house to her, and the whole darn cycle would repeat itself.

Or...

She could pull up her big-girl panties, go over to Max's place, apologize for being an idiot, and ask him for another chance.

It should be that simple.

It
could
be that simple.

She just had to let it be.

 

 

What Max wanted to do was hit the local bar and drink a couple of beers. But even if he hadn't had Zuzu and Emma waiting for him at home, he wouldn't have done it. He never drank when he was pissed, sad, or lonely. Bad habits were easy to form and not so easy to break.