The Rocky Road to Romance (8 page)

“Good for them,” Elsie said. “If I had money, I'd spend it, too.”

Daisy didn't think Steve was such a slouch when it came to spending money either. He bought cars and houses in less time than it took her to select a pound of ground beef for supper. She pulled the earrings from her ears. “I guess I'd better hit the books.”

Elsie aimed the channel changer at the television. “Too bad you have to study. There's a show coming on now about giraffes. I've been waiting all week for this show. Someday when I get rich I'm going to Africa to see a giraffe.” Her attention was caught by the sound of a car being gunned down the street. “Sounds awful close, don't it?” Elsie said. “Sounds like it's right up on the front lawn.”

They were in the family room, in the back of the house, and the crash of broken glass carried to them from the front. It was immediately followed by an explosion. Everyone stood in suspended
animation for a moment before reacting, waiting to see if there was another explosion.

Steve was the first to move. “Stay here,” he said to Elsie and Daisy, but of course they didn't. They ran after him to the living room, stopping abruptly at the sight of fire. It raced along baseboards and swept up the front wall. It quickly gained momentum, crackling and hissing as it destroyed everything in its path.

Steve pushed Elsie and Daisy back into the kitchen. “Call the fire department and get out of the house,” he said, giving the phone to Daisy. He hooked his hand around a kitchen fire extinguisher and ran back to the living room.

Seconds later Daisy was beside him with an extinguisher from the family room. In minutes sirens screamed in the distance and the house shook with the rumble of fire trucks.

Elsie was standing her ground with the garden hose when Fairfax Number 4 broke into the foyer. “I think I've got it licked,” she said, “but it's nice of you to come to help out anyway.”

Half an hour later the house was certified safe to reenter. The fire had been pretty well confined to the living room. The front windows had been blown out by the blast, and the rug and walls were charred, as were the few pieces of furniture. Gray sooty water pooled on the floor and spilled out the front door, down the steps. Elsie, Daisy, Kevin, and Steve stood on the scarred lawn and looked at the smoke-blackened exterior of the colonial.

“Firebomb,” Steve said. “If we'd been in the living room, we'd be dead.”

Daisy had her arm around Kevin. She was ready to pay serious attention to the threats. The phone call had been almost laughable, and the intruder might have been a random burglary, but this vicious act of vengeance couldn't be denied.

There was a dark blue-and-white squad car angled into the curb, behind the one remaining fire truck. A tan late-model sedan pulled in next to the squad car and two men got out. Detectives, Daisy decided, noting the street clothes on the men and the antennae on the sedan. They approached a uniformed cop and
a discussion followed. Daisy caught one of the men looking over at her. His face was impassive, his mouth grim. His shirt had lost its starch hours ago, his suit slacks had begun to bag in the seat, his brown shoes carried a film of dust. He'd had a long day, Daisy thought.

Fairfax County wasn't exactly the crime center of the universe, but she supposed it had its share of break-ins, forgeries, and occasional arson. Probably it didn't get many firebombings. Maybe the detective in the baggy pants would be excited to get a firebombing assigned to him. From the slump of his shoulders Daisy guessed excitement wasn't part of his present emotional makeup. He flicked her another speculative look, and she decided pain-in-the-behind was about the way he'd sized her up. When he started across the lawn toward her, she plastered her best social-worker smile into place.

“Lieutenant Walker,” he said, extending his hand, first to Steve, then to Daisy. “I understand you've been threatened before?” he said to Daisy. “I'll need a detailed statement from you.”

Twenty minutes later he whistled through his teeth and closed his notebook. “You consider going on a cruise? Maybe spending a month in Disneyland?”

“I'm this close to my doctorate,” Daisy said, measuring the air with her thumb and forefinger. “I can't leave now. I'm in the middle of my dissertation. And who would take over my crossing-guard job or my job at the nursing home? Who would do the traffic reporting?”

“Lady, you don't leave town, and you're going to be doing the traffic report from grave-side.”

Daisy narrowed her eyes. “I'm not going to be intimidated by some sleaze.”

Walker gave a long, loud sigh. “How'd I know you were going to say that?” He looked at Steve. “Can't you talk some sense into her?”

Steve gave Walker a what-are-you-from-the-moon? look.

“Yeah,” Walker said.

Elsie stepped up to him. Her hair sprang from her scalp in tufts, flecked with foam from the extinguishers, her face was splotched
with black soot, and her sneakers were soaked.

“Elsie Hawkins,” she said, holding out her hand. “Rough and Ready Security Guard. Don't you worry about a thing. I'm on duty here. And not only am I going to protect Daisy, but I'm going to get this guy. He's gone too far this time. I waited all week to see that show on giraffes, and that son of a squirrel made me miss it. Blew up the living room during the opening credits. Some people have no consideration.”

Daisy could see the incredulity register on Walker's face, and she watched in amusement as he lifted his eyes to Steve in silent question.

Elsie noticed his skepticism. “Listen, sonny,” she said to Walker, “I may be old, but I'm not stupid. I know my way around the block pretty good. As long as it don't rain I'm almost as good as new.”

“Rain?” he said dully, eyes slightly glazed.

“Arthritis, you ninny. Old people get arthritis when it rains. Never had it so bad before, but this dang steel hip isn't all healed over yet…” She made an impatient sound and waved him
away. “I got better things to do than to stand here gabbing. I bet everything I own smells like it's been barbecued.”

 

Steve stood in the shower and let the water beat against him. He shook his head like a dog in a rainstorm and ordered his body to wake up. Firebomb or not, this was Daisy's fun day, and he intended to be downstairs making French toast when Daisy came back from jogging. He couldn't remember if he'd washed his hair, so he washed it again.

Daisy had been assigned twenty-four-hour protection. Steve thought about the cop who had accompanied Daisy on her jog, Officer Schmidt. The man had been on duty all night. Steve felt a little better knowing the poor guy was undoubtedly in more agony than he was. He toweled off, dressed in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt, and padded down to the kitchen.

He had the table set and the French bread sliced when Daisy returned. She'd tied her hair back into a ponytail and her face was free of makeup, slightly flushed, glowing with
health and a sheen of perspiration. Steve felt a ridiculous stab of guilt over his body's instant and soon-to-be-obvious reaction to a woman who could easily be mistaken for sixteen. Schmidt was just five steps behind her, breathing hard.
So much for my fantasy life,
Steve thought, handing Daisy a glass of orange juice.

He offered juice to the cop, but the man waved it away. Steve saw his eyes slide to the coffee brewing on the counter. “Coffee?”

The answer was an affirmative grunt. The cop was wearing jeans and running shoes and a T-shirt that was soaked through. He had his gun and a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “No one told me I was going to have to run a damn marathon at five in the morning,” he managed between breaths.

Daisy sipped her orange juice. “Usually Elsie runs with me,” she gleefully lied, “but I thought I'd give her the morning off since she was up so late doing laundry last night.”

“The old lady?” That elicited another grunt. “You're kidding, right?”

Steve gave him the coffee and clapped a
sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “The Roach trial's only a month away.”

“I'll never make it.”

There were light steps on the stairs, and Elsie came into the kitchen. “Smelled the coffee,” she said. She looked over Steve's shoulder. “French toast? Isn't that a nice treat on a Sunday morning.” Her eyes fastened on the cop at the table. “What happened to him?”

“Went jogging with Daisy,” Steve said.

Elsie made a derisive sound. “They don't make cops like they used to.”

Steve mounded half a loaf of fried bread on a plate, poured syrup over it and gave it to Bob. He mixed up more egg while the next batch sizzled in the skillet.

He was beginning to get excited about his plans for the day. When he'd proposed a fun day he hadn't really had anything specific in mind. Then the perfect day had come to him in a flash in the middle of the night. He was going to do something he'd been wanting to do for fifteen years. He was going to take everyone to an amusement park. Every summer he had the urge to go, but he'd never been able to come up
with a comfortable excuse for indulging himself. Now he had a fourteen-year-old kid, an overworked woman, and Elsie. He didn't know how to categorize Elsie. Elsie was in a class all her own.

He handed over a plate of French toast to Daisy and groaned when Kevin thundered down the stairs. Good thing he'd bought lots of bread.

By eight-thirty everyone was fed, showered, properly clothed in shorts and sneakers, and assembled on the front lawn.

“My partner and I will follow in our own car,” Schmidt said. “Try not to lose us.”

Elsie was wearing long red shorts and a wide-brimmed white canvas hat. She opened her big black pocketbook and Daisy and Steve both jumped back a foot. “Just looking for the coupons,” she said, fishing around. “I got coupons at the food store. Four dollars off admission.” She found two of them and handed them over to Schmidt.

Schmidt looked uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

“That's okay,” Elsie told him, “but you're gonna have to do something about your gun.
I'm not going on no rides with a man who's got a lump in his clothes.”

Daisy swallowed back the laughter. It was true. There was an unseemly bulge at Schmidt's waist, under his yellow jersey. If it was any lower, he'd face arrest on an obscenity charge. As it was, it looked like a hernia gone berserk.

Schmidt colored. “I have a jacket in the car.”

“Better have a hat, too,” Elsie said. “After a couple hours in this sun you're gonna be able to fry eggs on that bald spot of yours.”

“Ease off,” he told her. “I graduated top of my class in police brutality.”

“Only trying to be helpful,” Elsie said.

A truck pulled into the driveway. The sign on the outside said
DIRTY DAN'S HOUSEKEEPING SERVICES
. Four people climbed out and started unloading equipment.

“Maybe we should stay home and supervise,” Daisy said.

Steve shook his head. “No need. Dirty Dan cleans the studio, and I've used him for two years now to clean my house. Bob's locked out back, so he won't be any trouble, and the windows
are boarded up until the carpenter can get here tomorrow. Everything's taken care of. When we get home the house will have been aired and scrubbed. Tomorrow the adjuster will check out the damage, and we'll figure out insurance.”

Elsie shifted her pocketbook to her shoulder. “What do you say we haul it out of here? You don't get there early, the lines'll kill you. I got my heart set on that roller coaster where you stand up. I saw it on TV.”

Daisy wasn't sure about the roller coaster. It was one of those high-tech things that curved and looped and catapulted screaming people along a gleaming rail high overhead. An amusement park had sounded like a good idea an hour ago, while they were still en route, but now that she was standing in line she wasn't sure. It had been a long time since she'd ridden a roller coaster. And she'd never ridden anything like this. She held tight to Steve's hand and gnawed at her lower lip.

“You okay?” Steve asked. “You look a little pale.”

“It's just that I'm having so much fun.”

“Maybe we should start off with something smaller.”

Schmidt was standing behind them. His face was tanned, but under the tan he was as pale as Daisy. “Yeah, it might not be a bad idea to start off with something smaller. It isn't that I'm afraid to do this, but—” A string of cars rocketed past them. “Holy cripes,” Schmidt said, “you have to be nuts to do this!”

Steve was having second thoughts, too. Now he remembered why he avoided this for fifteen years. It was because he had no patience with waiting his turn. “It doesn't seem right that we should force Officer Schmidt to do this in the line of duty,” he said.

Daisy agreed. It didn't seem right. “And look how he's sweating in that jacket,” she said. “We should go buy him something cool to drink. We wouldn't want him to get dehydrated.”

“Bunch of wimps,” Elsie said. “You go ahead, and Kevin and me'll meet up with you later.”

They got sodas and Schmidt and his partner dropped behind. “Just pretend we aren't here,” Schmidt said. “And if you don't go on any more roller coasters, I'll do you a favor. I'll see what I can do about having the old
lady committed. I've got friends in high places.”

“She doesn't belong to us,” Daisy told him. “We just hired her to be my bodyguard until the Roach is convicted.”

“You mean she was telling the truth? You actually hired her?”

Steve reached for Daisy's hand. “I'm going to do my best to ignore him.”

She felt heat flood through her when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. They were following a macadam path that was bordered by flowers and led to more rides. It was a sunny weekend, and the park was crowded with kids and their parents and hordes of teenagers, but in the middle of this sea of bustling humanity they were alone, Daisy thought. People smiled but didn't stare, didn't recognize. Everyone was self-absorbed, unwavering in their pursuit of fun. That was perfect, she decided. She enjoyed the intimacy of walking hand in hand with Steve.

They had a strange relationship, she decided. Desire had come before love, although love had quickly followed. The depth of the
love she wasn't able to determine. She was smart enough to know that there were lots of kinds, and falling in love was different from truly loving someone. For now she knew she'd fallen in love, and she intended to keep it at that level. In her mind it didn't seem to be such a serious emotion. It wasn't her first experience with infatuation, she told herself. She'd been enamored of other men. She supposed she'd had her heart broken a few times, but she'd never died of it. Actually, if she was to be completely honest, she couldn't really say her heart had ever been broken—cracked perhaps.

She finished her soda and munched on leftover ice. Music spilled from hidden speakers, mingling with the clatter and roar of the roller coasters. “I think I'm going on sensory overload,” she said to Steve.

“Do you hate it?”

“No, I love it! I have to admit I'm not keen on roller coasters, but I love being here. I like the food and the noise and the people. And I love the colors and the speed of the rides. I want to stay late so I can see the lights go on. Can we do that?”

“We can stay here as long as you want—unless the soles start to melt on my shoes. If that happens, I might be inclined to pack it in.”

Daisy lifted the hair off the back of her neck in silent agreement. The day was hot, with the kind of heat found only in an amusement park. Heat that baked off the pavement and prickled on bare arms. Heat that provoked cravings for ice cream and lemonade and the cool shade of the pavilions where more elaborate food was sold. “I should have put my hair up,” she said. “I'd give my kingdom for a scrunchie.”

“I don't think it's necessary to hock your kingdom for one,” Steve said. “Twenty dollars should be more than enough.” He waved a twenty in front of a group of teenage girls. “Anyone want to trade this for a scrunchie?”

Three of them furiously worked at their ponytails and he took the first that was placed in his hand. He turned it over to Daisy. “Wouldn't want you to think the heir to the Crow oil fortune was a piker when it came to your comfort.”

Daisy swept the hair back from her face and
bound it up. “Does an oil-fortune heir spend lots of time at amusement parks?”

“Last time I went to an amusement park was when I was seventeen. I took Jessica Mae Stiller on the roller coaster, and she got so scared she wet her pants.”

“How about you? Were you scared?”

“Yeah, but at that point in my life I thought being scared was cool…and being cool was everything. Fortunately, I had better control over body functions than Jessica Mae.”

Daisy wondered what other body functions Jessica Mae had trouble controlling. “So what happened to this hussy?”

“I think she changed schools, had plastic surgery, and moved out of town.”

“Can't blame her,” Daisy said.

He bought her a hot dog and a lemonade, and they sat on a bench, watching people pour along the path in front of them. Daisy ripped off chunks of hot dog and chewed. “You think all these people know where they're going?”

“Sure, they're headed for the water rides.”

“I mean in life.”

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“They look like they all know, don't they? All these people look so sure of themselves.”

“Is this leading somewhere?”

She looked at the napkin in her hand. “Did I eat my hot dog?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn.”

“I get the feeling there's something bothering you.”

“It's my life,” she said. “My life is bothering me.”

“That narrows it down.”

“And it's all your fault. You're a bad influence. You've got me having fun.”

“Want to run that by me again?”

“I haven't the least inclination to go home and work on my thesis.”

“Honey, there's nothing wrong with taking a day off once in a while…”

“No. You don't understand. Not once in a while. I'm talking permanent. I'm not inclined to go work on my dissertation
ever.
I hate my dissertation. Haven't you noticed how easily I'm distracted?”

“I attributed that to my extraordinary powers
of persuasion and my mind-numbing sex appeal.”

“There's that, too.” She looked around and flapped her arms. “Maybe I'll just chuck it and get a job here. I could sell sno-cones or take tickets on the merry-go-round.”

He twirled his finger around a tendril of hair that had escaped the ponytail. “The merry-go-round doesn't sound so bad, but I don't think you'd be happy retailing crushed ice all day.”

“Lately I'm not at all sure what would make me happy.”

“Sounds serious.”

“I've always had direction to my life. I always knew exactly what I wanted. I always had a goal.”

“And now?”

She gave her head a little shake. “You ever have a thought that's so frightening you're afraid to say it out loud?” Her eyes locked with his. “I'm in the final stage of my dissertation. This time next year I'll have my doctorate…and I don't care anymore. I haven't really cared for months, maybe years, but I've
been afraid to admit it. Somewhere along the line I lost touch with myself. I was so busy working to reach my goal that I didn't realize the goal was no longer something I truly wanted.”

It was hard for him to believe she didn't want to pursue a career in geriatric counseling. Until this moment she'd seemed so dedicated, so enthusiastic about it. “Maybe you're just tired.”

Daisy sighed. She couldn't deny she was tired. She went through the motions and made a lot of energetic noise, but underneath it all she was weary. It had come on her gradually, and if it hadn't been for Steve Crow, she might not have noticed it at all. Steve provided the contrast that made her see the picture more clearly.

She wasn't tired today. And she hadn't been tired on the kitchen table. She had enough stamina to run a twenty-eight-year-old cop into the ground. But she could barely keep her mind from wandering when she sat down to write and edit.

“Maybe you're right,” she said, sending him
a weak smile in apology and embarrassment. “Sorry I turned weird on you, but I was sitting here watching the people go by, and suddenly I was just about knocked over with a flash of insight. I suppose it had been lurking in my mind for a long time, and I'd never before let down my guard enough for it to surface. It was like the lid to Pandora's box unexpectedly flying open and having the ugly truth pop out at me.”

“Do you really hate your dissertation?”

“I hate working on it.”

“Ah-hah.”

“What ah-hah? You aren't going to tell me it's PMS, are you?”

“That would be insulting. Only women can make remarks like that.”

“So what then?”

She was genuinely hurting, he realized. Under all the assertive confidence was a scrap of self-doubt. And she was obviously horrified that she'd blurted out her discovery to him. He suspected she needed time to get used to the idea herself before she could comfortably discuss it with someone else. He
wanted to give her that time. He wanted to make her smile and push her responsibilities aside for a day.

“It's very simple,” he said. “It's all stress-related. You just need to relax.” His eyes grew lazy. His mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “You need to spend more time on the kitchen table.”

Daisy gratefully followed his lead back to playful flirting and tried to look thoughtful. “You could be right. I've been sexually deprived for most of my adult life. It could be catching up to me.”

“Exactly. If we concentrated very hard on this problem, we could have it solved in no time.”

“It's worth a try,” Daisy said. “How long do you think it will take?”

“Depends how hard we concentrate.”

“I wouldn't want to injure you.”

“I'm insured.”

“Lloyds of London?”

“Blue Cross of Virginia.”

At five-thirty they met Kevin and Elsie. Elsie's red Converse high-top All Stars were
soaked, her hat was off, and her hair looked like it had been styled and spray-starched by Don King.

“Water rides,” Elsie said. “They were a blast.” She shifted her eyes to Schmidt and his partner. They were standing at a distance, watching from the shade of a Belgian waffle stand. “I feel kind of guilty having all this fun when I'm supposed to be protecting you. Of course, I suppose we have to have someone watching out for Kevin, too. We wouldn't want him kidnapped or nothing.”

“Man, this is the best day of my life,” Kevin said. “We got the front seat on the Rebel Yell. Then Elsie showed me how to make the old-time cars stall so that we held up the whole ride and the attendant had to come give us a push. You should have been there, Daisy. Some big guy with a beer can tattooed on his forehead tried to muscle in ahead of us on the bumper cars and Elsie told him if he didn't watch his manners, she was gonna hurt him real bad!”

“I don't put up with bad manners,” Elsie said.

Daisy and Steve nervously glanced at the pocketbook hanging on Elsie's arm.

“You didn't have to use your pocketbook, did you?” Daisy asked.

“Nope. Haven't used my pocketbook all day. Too bad, too. I'm feeling in top form, but the opportunity hasn't presented itself yet.”

“Well, the day isn't over,” Steve said.

Daisy elbowed him hard in the ribs. “I think it's best if you avoid using your pocketbook,” she said to Elsie. “Too many kids running around.”

“You're probably right. We're having a good time anyway, aren't we, Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “The best part was when Elsie lost her false teeth.”

“Opened my mouth to yell on the Berserker and they fell right out,” Elsie said. “Was the darnedest thing. Lucky the lady in front of me caught them.”

“She didn't catch them,” Kevin said. “They snagged onto her hair.”

“It's true,” Elsie agreed. “I've never seen anything like it. She had hair out to here. Don't know how she ever got it that way. And the teeth just kind of caught hold in all that frizz.”

They left the park at nine-thirty. Kevin and Elsie instantly fell asleep in the backseat, and Daisy sat in the front with her hands locked in her lap, trying to maintain some control over herself. She wasn't sure what the hands would do if left to their own devices. She was afraid they'd do something silly and corny, like reach for a star. And she knew for certain that they'd eventually gravitate to something a lot closer and much more substantial.