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Authors: Susan Meissner
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golf course to have dinner with us so he can talk to Kellen?”
“What’s so crazy about that? Kellen is an excellent investor. Marshall has money to invest. He’s quite wealthy.”
A groan escapes me. I can’t rein it in. “Mom…”
“What? Your brother likes helping people!”
“Yeah, and so do you, Mom.”
She looks me straight in the eye. “And there’s nothing wrong with that .”
Marshall Mitchell may be the catch of the year but I’m not interested in playing catch. Dinner now looms before me as a tedious affair.
An idea enters my mind. “So this is not some kind of blind date you’ve concocted here?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay. I’m going upstairs to put on a different blouse.”
Her eyes widen just a tad and I can see that it is on the tip of her tongue to suggest which blouse I should wear. She catches it before it falls off.
I turn and make my way to the back of the building, to the stairs that lead to the apartments. I am on the second floor in seconds. I stop quickly at my apartment and dash in to grab a lacy shawl to wear over my black silk shell.
Then I scurry up to the third floor and pound on Max’s door, hoping he’s home.
The door opens. Max has an iPod in one hand, and a single-serving Stouffers lasagna in the other. He’s barely touched it. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt that no longer has any buttons.
“We’re all going out to Ping’s. Want to come?” I ask.
“What?” He pulls out an ear bud.
I sigh and repeat my question.
“Who’s ‘we’’’?
“Max, does it matter? Do you really want that instead of Ping’s?” I point to his microwaved masterpiece.
“No.”
“Then come.”
“Okay.”
Max yanks out the other ear bud and tosses his iPod onto a little table by his front door that is littered with opened mail and loose playing cards. He hesitates for a moment and then places the Stouffers lasagna there, too.
He steps out to join me, his open shirt flapping like a main sail.
“Max, you might want to change your shirt.”
He looks down at his chest. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He reaches behind him and selects one of three shirts hanging on his doorknob. He lets the tattered one fall away and slips a striped polo over his head. “Okay.”
Max closes his door behind him and we head toward the stairs.
“Max, please do me a favor and sit by me.”
“You want me to sit by you?”
“My mom has invited some guy to come with us. I don’t want to sit by him.”
“So that’s why you wanted me to come.” He stops and looks at me. He’s not hurt. He’s amused.
“Please, Max.”
He laughs. “You’re gonna owe me one.”
“Fine.”
He begins to descend the stairs.
“Want me to pretend like I’m in love with you?” he teases.
I can play, too. “Well, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t look at me.
Good Lord, now what have I done? A hot poker seems to have suddenly been inserted into my ears. It feels very warm in my befuddled brain.
“Max, I was just kidding.” I reach out to touch his arm. He’s got to understand that for sure.
He stops at the landing between the first and second floor. His head is dropped and I can’t see his eyes.
“Max?” My voice sounds ridiculously unhinged. “Really. I was just kidding.”
He looks up.
“So was I.” He winks, laughs and dashes down the last set of stairs. I have to run to keep up with him.
When we get to the bottom, he throws open the door that leads to Something Blue. The little party of five looks up.
“I ran into Max upstairs,” I say as we walk toward everyone. “Thought he could join us. Max, this is a friend of my mother’s, Marshall Maxwell.”
“Marshall Mitchell,” the man kindly corrects me.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Now, that was an honest mistake.
Kellen is staring at me but I won’t look at him. If I do, he will burst out laughing and then I will. It’s not good to be laughing when no one is telling a joke.
We start to head
“What’s so crazy about that? Kellen is an excellent investor. Marshall has money to invest. He’s quite wealthy.”
A groan escapes me. I can’t rein it in. “Mom…”
“What? Your brother likes helping people!”
“Yeah, and so do you, Mom.”
She looks me straight in the eye. “And there’s nothing wrong with that .”
Marshall Mitchell may be the catch of the year but I’m not interested in playing catch. Dinner now looms before me as a tedious affair.
An idea enters my mind. “So this is not some kind of blind date you’ve concocted here?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay. I’m going upstairs to put on a different blouse.”
Her eyes widen just a tad and I can see that it is on the tip of her tongue to suggest which blouse I should wear. She catches it before it falls off.
I turn and make my way to the back of the building, to the stairs that lead to the apartments. I am on the second floor in seconds. I stop quickly at my apartment and dash in to grab a lacy shawl to wear over my black silk shell.
Then I scurry up to the third floor and pound on Max’s door, hoping he’s home.
The door opens. Max has an iPod in one hand, and a single-serving Stouffers lasagna in the other. He’s barely touched it. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt that no longer has any buttons.
“We’re all going out to Ping’s. Want to come?” I ask.
“What?” He pulls out an ear bud.
I sigh and repeat my question.
“Who’s ‘we’’’?
“Max, does it matter? Do you really want that instead of Ping’s?” I point to his microwaved masterpiece.
“No.”
“Then come.”
“Okay.”
Max yanks out the other ear bud and tosses his iPod onto a little table by his front door that is littered with opened mail and loose playing cards. He hesitates for a moment and then places the Stouffers lasagna there, too.
He steps out to join me, his open shirt flapping like a main sail.
“Max, you might want to change your shirt.”
He looks down at his chest. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He reaches behind him and selects one of three shirts hanging on his doorknob. He lets the tattered one fall away and slips a striped polo over his head. “Okay.”
Max closes his door behind him and we head toward the stairs.
“Max, please do me a favor and sit by me.”
“You want me to sit by you?”
“My mom has invited some guy to come with us. I don’t want to sit by him.”
“So that’s why you wanted me to come.” He stops and looks at me. He’s not hurt. He’s amused.
“Please, Max.”
He laughs. “You’re gonna owe me one.”
“Fine.”
He begins to descend the stairs.
“Want me to pretend like I’m in love with you?” he teases.
I can play, too. “Well, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t look at me.
Good Lord, now what have I done? A hot poker seems to have suddenly been inserted into my ears. It feels very warm in my befuddled brain.
“Max, I was just kidding.” I reach out to touch his arm. He’s got to understand that for sure.
He stops at the landing between the first and second floor. His head is dropped and I can’t see his eyes.
“Max?” My voice sounds ridiculously unhinged. “Really. I was just kidding.”
He looks up.
“So was I.” He winks, laughs and dashes down the last set of stairs. I have to run to keep up with him.
When we get to the bottom, he throws open the door that leads to Something Blue. The little party of five looks up.
“I ran into Max upstairs,” I say as we walk toward everyone. “Thought he could join us. Max, this is a friend of my mother’s, Marshall Maxwell.”
“Marshall Mitchell,” the man kindly corrects me.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Now, that was an honest mistake.
Kellen is staring at me but I won’t look at him. If I do, he will burst out laughing and then I will. It’s not good to be laughing when no one is telling a joke.
We start to head
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