Shipping Sharon Page 5

  Maisy reached over and grabbed Norman's arm, digging her nails into his wrist. "Norman, how could you? You knew I didn't want to have anything to do with him. I couldn't have made it any clearer unless I'd stood on top of this table and screamed it at the top of my lungs." Releasing the death grip on Norman's wrist, Maisy raked her fingers through her blonde curls. She picked up the butter knife, waving it toward him. "I swear to God, Norman, I could kill you. Just slap you right up on top of this table, eviscerate you, and gleefully feed all the pieces into that fish tank over there." Norman opened his mouth but Maisy kept right on going. "This man is Sharon Chaney's brother. Doesn't that mean anything to you, you dunder-brained-lunk-head? Sharon Chaney, Keller Chaney's sister, is the skinny slut that ..."

  "Will there be anything else for you today," Christopher asked, springing to the table.

  "No," Maisy barked and the young man flinched.

  "Don't mind her, Christopher," Norman said offering a friendly smile and wink. "Severe reaction to omega-3 fatty acids. We'll just take the check, thanks."

  "Okay, great, here you go." Christopher placed the check in front of Norman. "You can leave it for me or pay the cashier on the way out. Have a great day and thank you for dining at Chowder Bay."

  Maintaining her narrow-eyed, irked expression, Maisy waited for the buoyant, grinning boy to bounce out of earshot and then continued her tirade, struggling to keep her volume down. "As I was saying, Keller Chaney's sister is the emaciated tramp that I found screwing my husband--in my own house--in my own bed. John's widow," she reached across the table and knocked on Norman's head, "remember? What on earth would make you think that I would want anything to do with that vicious, vulgar woman's brother?"

  "Oh, maybe the way I caught you drooling over him just before you found out who he is," Norman said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

  Maisy breathed in an audible sigh of exclamation. "I was not drooling!"

  "Are you kidding, the spittle's still running down your chin," Norman said, laughing as Maisy instinctively wiped her chin before realizing what she was doing. "And anyway," Norman continued, "it's terribly unfair of you to judge this poor guy and write him off just because his sister is an immoral reprobate." He leaned in towards Maisy and motioned for her to come closer. "Remember my psychic flashes? He's the one Maisy." Norman nodded with confident assurance. "I knew it as soon as I shook his hand. He's the man you've been waiting for."

  "Bullshit!" Nearly leaping from her chair, Maisy grabbed her purse and glared down at Norman. "Now that is the most ridiculous, preposterous thing I've ever heard. I'll wait for you in the car," she said, marching towards the restaurant's exit. Maisy was angry with Norman for his meddling, butt-in-ski performance--but she was even angrier with herself for being so damned attracted to the enemy's brother. Just thinking about him brought goose pimples to her arms, which she briskly rubbed. The delicious, well-muscled bulk of Keller's powerful looking body made her want to reach out and touch him in ways that sent shivers through her just thinking about it. With that thought, she slapped the heel of her hand against her forehead. "Jeez, what in the hell is wrong with you? Just snap out of it, will you, Maisy?" she said aloud in the parking lot. "Get it through that thick noggin of yours that Keller Chaney is off limits and part of the enemy camp." Clearly, her subconscious had its own agenda as the last picture that flashed through her mind before Norman reached the car was of Keller Chaney sweeping her into his strong arms and making her melt, like a bar of fine chocolate.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  Every morning for the next two weeks, Maisy found a little peace offering from Norman, tied with satin ribbon, on her desk. A box of low-fat granola bars; a box of fat-free devil's food cookies; a tiny porcelain vase holding persimmon color silk flowers; a Richard Simmons exercise video--and each little surprise was always accompanied by a steamy, paperback romance novel. He had attached little note cards to each book saying something like, Read this--this could be you ... love, Norman. There was always a little smiley-face doodled next to his name. This morning it was a tiny potpourri sachet, embroidered with the words, Best Friends are Forever. The romance novel was titled Beloved Enemy, and the little note card read, Two weeks have gone by and I've run out of gift ideas--anyway, I think I've groveled enough. Read this book over the weekend, there'll be a quiz on Monday ... Love, Norman. A smile spread across Maisy's face.Walking across the deep persimmon colored pile carpeting in Norman's office, Maisy pulled him out of his chair, and grabbed him into a hug. "Come here you persistent old meddler," she said. "How can I possibly stay mad at someone as crazy and wonderful as you?"

  Norman laughed and motioned for Maisy to sit down. "That's exactly the point I've been trying to get across," he broke out in a boyish grin. "How about a cup of coffee," he asked, ambling over to his espresso maker. Maisy nodded. "Espresso or cappuccino?"

  "Espresso's fine," Maisy said, snuggling into one of the persimmon print upholstered chairs. She waved the romance paperback in his direction. Beloved Enemy? How long did it take you to dig this up?" She laughed.

  "I just walked into the bookstore and there it was, calling my name," Norman said, matter of factly. "Don't forget there'll be a quiz on Monday, so you better read it."

  "Yes sir, Mr. Stanley, sir," she said saluting. Rising, Maisy went to stand by Norman's side at the espresso maker, putting her arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry about giving you the cold shoulder these past couple of weeks. I know you meant well, Norman, but that whole Chaney thing is still such a sore spot with me."

  "I know, sweetie, I know," Norman said as he ground the Italian roast coffee beans to a fine powder. "Mmm, smells good, doesn't it?"

  Closing her eyes and breathing in a deep whiff, Maisy nodded. "Heavenly."

  "Heard anything from Keller yet?" Norman asked over his shoulder.

  "Are you kidding?" Maisy waved her hand through the air, making a raspberry sound with her tongue. "Of course not--I never really expected to. He was only being nice because you all but hog-tied the poor man and bullied him into a corner." Maisy laughed as she walked to the far side of Norman's office, checking out the newest cruise brochures.

  "Oooh, that sounds kinky. I'll have to remember that," Norman said with a wink.

  Chuckling as she mouthed a silent plea, Maisy looked skyward and shook her head. "Let's face it, Norman," she slowly twirled around. "I'm not exactly Keller Chaney's type, anyway. I mean, did you get a good look at the guy?"

  Norman pursed his lips and fluttered his hand across his heart, "Oh honey, did I ever," he said, rolling his eyes and raising his eyebrows for effect.

  Maisy walked over to him and slapped his arm. "You nut," she said. "I'm serious. Do you think somebody who looks like a cross between Cary grant and Charlie Sheen would want to be seen with a plump, plain Jane like me?"

  A look of genuine astonishment flashed across Norman's face as he bubbled forth with laughter. "Plump plain Jane?" He slapped his hand to his mouth, laughing even harder.

  Balling her hands into fists, Maisy firmly planted them on her hips. "Well, I'm happy you find my lackluster appearance so amusing, Norman." Her voice was filled with indignation.

  "Lackluster?" Wiping a tear from his eye, Norman propped an arm over Maisy's shoulder. "My God, Maisy, how many times do I have to tell you that you're a beautiful, breathtaking woman now?" Steam hissed from the espresso maker, and Norman tended to his preparation, shaving a curl from the peel of one of the fresh lemons he kept in the small refrigerator in his office. "Honey, believe me, your plump, plain Jane days are long gone. Hmmm . . ." As if he were a movie director, Norman placed his thumbs together while holding up his hands and peered at her through the opening. ". . . In fact, I'd say you're a delicious combination of Goldie Hawn and Marilyn Monroe."

  Maisy huffed. "Yeah, right. Goldie Hawn weighs about as much as my thigh--if that much."

  "See, there you go again, always exaggerating and focusing on the negative
." Norman shook his head and tsked. "What I meant, Miss Maisy Melancholy, was that you've got Goldie Hawn's infectious vivacity and Marilyn Monroe's va-va-va-voom!" He sculpted a curvaceous torso in the air.

  Rolling her eyes, Maisy said, "Oh, goody. So, I'm like a fat Marilyn Monroe who cackles like Goldie Hawn . . . is that what you're trying to say, Norman?"

  "Uh-uh-uh," Norman said, wagging a finger. "Don't be sarcastic, Maisy, it doesn't suit you." He winked as he turned to prepare two espressos with raw sugar and a twist of lemon peel. As Maisy opened her mouth, Norman held up his finger. "Uh-uh, before you utter another word, I'll bet you didn't know that Marilyn Monroe's weight fluctuated quite a bit and she actually wore a size-fourteen at times. And you, my dear Maisy, are only a size-ten now--or," he flipped his hand back and forth, "a size-twelve--depending, of course, on your time of the month, and how much chocolate you've ingested on any particular day." He smiled and winked. "So, case closed. And, I don't want to hear any more self put-downs from you. Biscotti?"

  "No way. They've got a zillion fat grams."

  "Not these. They're low fat," he said. Shrugging, Maisy took one. Simultaneously crunching into their hazelnut biscottis as they sank into their respective chairs, they each sipped from the molten brew, and expressed an extended ah-h-h-h of satisfaction. "Look at you," Norman said, "curves in all the right places, flawless skin, the biggest deep blue eyes I've ever seen--uh ... except for that cute little server at Chowder Bay, what was his name again, oh yeah, Christopher. Be still my heart," he said, rolling his eyes again.

  Maisy laughed and shook her head. "Cradle robber," she said, shaking her finger as Norman heaved a shrug and laughed.

  "Where was I ..." Norman continued. "Of course, your physical attributes. Thick, gorgeous honey-blonde hair, a peaches a cream complexion ... and great big beautiful breasts. What's not to love?" Smiling, he gave a little shrug.

  Maisy nearly choked on her espresso. "Norman!" she said, drop-jawed and self-consciously pulling the cardigan of her heather-gray sweater-set across her chest. "What a thing to say." A moment after taking another sip of her brew, she cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled, "And anyway, how would you know they're beautiful, hmmm?"

  "Don't argue semantics with me, young lady. I may be gay, but I'm not completely blind to feminine charms--and believe me, sister, you've got plenty." He winked. "If I may be so bold as to bring up his name again," Norman said, sporting a sly grin. "I couldn't help but notice that Keller Chaney was checking out your cleavage at the restaurant."

  "Oh, you big liar. He did not." Cocking her head, a smile teased at her lips. "Did he?"

  Norman nodded with a wry smile. "May God strip me of my psychic powers forever if I'm lying." He crossed his finger over his heart.

  "Psychic, shmychic," Maisy grumbled through a laugh and took another sip of espresso.

  "Like I said, va-va-va-voom!" Winking again, he moved his hand through the air following invisible curves. "Yup, Keller zeroed right in on those big bazooms of yours." Norman laughed and crunched into his second biscotti, offering another to Maisy, which she declined.

  "Gee, Norman, could you be any cruder?" Maisy huffed a chortle through her nose.

  Waving his hand through the air, Norman said, "Oh, sure, lots." He winked.

  "Anyway, so what if Keller was eyeing my," Maisy cleared her throat, "chest. Big deal. If Keller's anything like his sister, which is a darned good bet," Maisy said, curling her lip into a sneer, "sex is foremost on the man's brain. Doesn't make a darned bit of difference anyway though, Norman, because that is one man I have absolutely no intention of seeing again . . . ever."

  "Whatever you say, Maisy." With an impassive shrug, Norman drained the last bit of powerful brew from the demitasse cup.

  "Hmmm. That seemed just a tad too easy," Maisy said, eyeing her boss through narrowed slits. "It's not like you to give so easily." Pressing the tip of her finger into the biscotti crumbs on her plate, she licked her finger, purring a satisfied little, m-m-m.

  "What can I say? When you're right, you're right," Norman said, offering an impassive smile. Raising his cup towards Maisy he asked, "Want another?"

  "No thanks, I'm still working on this one. So, you're just going to let it drop, huh?"

  "Hmm? Drop? Let what drop?"

  Maisy heaved an exasperated sigh. "What I said about never seeing Keller Chaney again, that's what. I expected another impassioned lecture extolling the man's virtues and reminding me about your never-fail psychic flashes."

  "Keller Chaney's a closed subject as far as I'm concerned," Norman said, flicking his hand through the air. "You know how I hate to butt my two cents in where they're not wanted."

  "Hah! This is me, Norman, remember? Why do I have this sinking feeling that you've got something up your sleeve where Keller's concerned."

  Planting his tongue in his cheek, Norman folded his arms across his chest and rested against the back of his chair. "I thought you didn't want to talk about Keller?"

  Glancing up from her espresso, Maisy said, "I don't--that's just the point."

  "You could have fooled me."

  Clearing her throat, Maisy said, "Moving on to your favorite subject . . ." Maisy paused, flashing a smile.

  "Which is?"

  "You, of course," she said, laughing.

  "Funny. Very funny--but, true," Norman said with a shrug. "Now, go ahead, mesmerize me." Leaning forward in his chair, Norman propped his elbow on the desk and rested his chin on his fist.

  "Well, I just thought you'd like to know that it looks like you've lost some weight over the last couple of weeks--lookin' good, Mr. Stanley." She patted her tummy and smiled.

  Norman bounced from his chair, proudly sticking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants as he pulled it outward. "Six more pounds." He looked for all the world like an excited little boy at that moment and Maisy couldn't help but smile. "That leaves me with only about nine pounds to go. Look, I can stick both thumbs in and there's still room. Went down another notch on my belt, too. Not too shabby, huh?"

  "I'm proud of you, kiddo. Keep up the good work."

  "How about you, and the chocolate monster? You still doing okay?"

  Maisy nodded. "Yup, binge free, my friend. Of course . . ." she said as a slow, desirous smile spread across her lips, "I still allow myself a little token of chocolate something each weekend." She closed her eyes and licked her lips. "You know what I always say . . . a weekend without chocolate . . ." Maisy gave a little laugh.

  Norman rolled his eyes and laughed. "Yeah, I know . . . is worse than a lifetime without sex." He shook his head and tsked. "You're a sick, sick girl, Maisy." He laughed again.

  "Believe me, Norman, you wouldn't say that if you were the one who had to have sex with John." She laughed.

  "You mean old Thumbkin?" Shuddering, Norman offered a distasteful sneer. "I see your point." They both laughed.

  "If that's what sex is all about," Maisy said, "then, brother, you can have it, 'cause I'm not interested."

  "Don't write off sex just because that slime-bag you were married to was a brutish, selfish prick, Maisy. Believe me, sex can be a beautiful, satisfying exchange of give and take when you're with the right person."

  "You mean like in the movies or in romance novels?" Maisy blurted a humorless laugh. "Uh-uh, nope, I don't think so, Norman." She shook her head. "Only little girls are into fairy tales. Thanks, but I think I'll stick with the beautiful, satisfying exchange of give and take that I experience whenever I eat chocolate." She grinned.

  Heaving a sigh, Norman shrugged. "Like I said, you're a sick, sick girl." He tried to hide his emerging smile.

  Rolling her eyes skyward, Maisy laughed. "Getting back to the plain Jane thing," she said, "to tell you the truth, I think it was just focusing on all those awful things Sharon said to me at John's wake that made me start feeling self conscious again. All in all, I'm really pretty happy with myself right now. I just have to remind myself every once in a while that I'm n
ot that two-hundred-seventy-pound plain Jane anymore."

  "Atta girl, Maisy," Norman said, nodding vigorously. "Now you're talking."

  Noticing one of the travel agents settling in at her desk, Maisy turned to Norman. "I thought this was Carol's day off."

  "It was. I, uh," Norman cleared his throat, "I called her and asked her to come in today and take tomorrow off instead."

  Slanting Norman a puzzled look, Maisy shrugged. "Oh. Any particular reason? Seems like a pretty slow day to bring in extra help."

  "Yeah, well, I just had a feeling that we might need Carol this afternoon," Norman said as he picked up his ringing phone. "Yes, sure, Linda, give me five minutes and then send him back to my office, will you?" Looking at Maisy, Norman took a deep breath as he nervously fiddled with his jade-green butterfly print tie. "Okay, don't panic on me now ... Keller Chaney is here to see you." Norman raised his hand as soon as he saw Maisy open her mouth and rise from her chair. "Sit down," he said in an authoritative voice.

  "Closed subject, huh? I should have known better. Norman, you lied to me."

  "I like to think of it as gently elasticizing the truth."

  "Oh, no . . . uh-uh, I will not allow you to do this to me," Maisy said with a determined shake of her head as she wagged her finger at Norman. "I'm getting out of here now." She took a step towards the door and Norman jumped up from his chair to block the doorway.

  "Will you puhleeze stop acting like a stubborn child and sit down. Look, it's not going to kill you just to hear what the man has got to say, is it?"

  "Since he's going to be here in a couple of minutes, I don't seem to have any choice, do I?" Norman smiled and shrugged in response. Placing her hand to her throat, Maisy sat back into the chair, swallowed hard, and nodded. "All right already. But I'll only give him a minute--and then I'm making an excuse to leave and you damn well better back me up on it." She jabbed a threatening finger at Norman. "Do you hear me Norman Stanley?"