Who Needs Cupid? Page 8

  “You should have bought the the building, too. Why does Jane have so much say?”

  “At the time I was thinking about starting Cup O’Love, I still hadn’t sold my condo. Jane wanted to sell, but I talked her into letting me rent this place. It was better for her taxwise, and I used the profits from my condo to remodel the house.” She looked around with regret. She really loved it here, and she was sure her parents would have been proud to see the way she’d saved the old gas station and turned it into a vital new business.

  “If my sister wants to be queen of the town and feels threatened by my being here, then maybe I should just leave. I’m not a fighter, Lucky. That isn’t my style.”

  “Everybody has to fight sometime, Elle.”

  “She’s right, Ellenore,” Max said, coming up behind them. Elle had almost forgotten that he was in the office making calls. She’d delivered him the last bit of roll-up before someone else bought it, but she’d been so busy she hadn’t checked on him again. She’d more or less assumed he’d gone home. “Jared called me back after he did a little research and said the time constraints of this demand are absolutely ridiculous. He’ll fax you some information that you can use to argue a stay if she takes this to the sheriff. I don’t think it will come to that, but we’ll have some legal recourse, just in case.”

  We? “Thank you, Max. I appreciate your help. Really I do, but—”

  He gave her a flinty look and said in a stern teacher voice, “Now, stop talking so fatalistically and tell me you’ll go to the Winter Ball with me on Saturday.”

  She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I beg your pardon? Did we walk through a time warp or something? The same Winter Ball I screwed up for you a hundred years ago?”

  “No. That was the Valentine’s Day dance. This one takes place the Saturday after Valentine’s Day because there was a regional basketball meet scheduled in the gym last weekend. Coach Erickson broke his ankle when he tripped over a photographer from the paper. He and his wife usually chaperone this dance. He asked if I’d trade the Winter Ball for graduation night. I said yes, on one condition. That you’d be my date.”

  “Well, that was rude. The man was probably in pain. And I can’t go. I have a lot to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “P…pack.”

  He glanced at Lucky who was watching their conversation as if she were at a tennis match. He grabbed Elle’s hand and led her toward the easy chairs in the corner. “Let’s sit down and talk about this. You and Jane obviously have issues that have nothing to do with Cup O’Love. I’m guessing she’s still processing the loss of your parents, but I could be wrong. People handle grief differently. My sons are a perfect example, but I digress. If you agree to ask Rebecca to move her art studio, I’m certain Jared will be able to convince Jane to back down.”

  “Kick Becca out? That’s not right. She’s so happy there, and her cards are a huge success. With a little support, she could…” Elle sighed. She’d known all along it would probably come to this.

  “You sublet a portion of the building, which is in violation of your lease.”

  “And if Jane succeeds in kicking me out, then Rebecca will have to leave, too. Score two for Jane.”

  He nodded.

  Elle muttered a low epithet but she knew she had little choice, legally. And knowing Jane, hell truly would freeze over before she backed down.

  “What a mess! I swear, I’m not sure I want to live in the same town as my sister.”

  Max’s heart rate shot up. He couldn’t let her give up and run away. Not again. “I’ll talk to Jane. She and Sarah were friends. I’m sure I can talk some sense into her.”

  “This isn’t your battle, Max.”

  “I know, but I really need a date for Saturday. The chess team will never let me live it down if I show up stag. In case you hadn’t noticed, we geeks are changing our image. Will you go with me?”

  She made a moue with her lips that told him she was thinking—about how to say no. She’d done the same thing when she’d broken the news that her loser hunk of an ex-boyfriend had come groveling back and insisted on taking her to the dance. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Max. Wednesday is Valentine’s Day. What if Mr. Right shows up on my dateathon page between now and then?”

  His heart started beating a little easier. Her tone made it clear she didn’t think that would happen. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Okay, for Coach Erickson’s sake. Besides, it’s not like men are flooding my dateathon page. Except for a few underage geeks. Do you think there’s something wrong with my e-mail address? Maybe it’s corrupted.”

  Or your Web master is. “I’ll take a look,” he said, inwardly wincing at his deceit. He needed to tell her the truth, but in his head, he’d built up an image of what would happen on Valentine’s Day. Elle would open her dateathon page at the party and read his profile, which he couldn’t post sooner because it would include a marriage proposal. She’d look up, with tears in her eyes, and he’d be there, on one knee with a ring.

  Too fast? Probably. Insane? Possibly. But wildly romantic? Absolutely. His wife used to call him a die-hard romantic, and given the fact that he was still in love with the girl-that-got-away and was prepared to make a fool of himself in public no doubt meant she was right.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JUST ONE MORE DAY till Valentine’s Day, or V-Day, as Elle chose to call it. The day most likely to disappoint you, she’d always figured. In high school, this was the day she’d turned left when she should have turned right. Instead of listening to her conscience—and her heart—she’d chosen the “popular” route. After all, everyone said cheerleaders didn’t date nerds.

  She’d been a coward back then, and she was still a coward. She’d let other people “handle” her sister. Max’s son, Jared, who had to be one of the most caring and intuitive people she’d ever spoken with, had acted as an intermediary, faxing and e-mailing Jane until she backed off—once Elle agreed to have Rebecca move her art studio out of the old Conoco station.

  Rebecca had claimed to understand. “I know this is what Mom wants, Aunt Elle. She’s never approved of my art and this is her way of eliminating something she thinks is bad for me.”

  “How can art be bad for you?”

  “It takes my focus away from my career. You know how busy accountants are this time of year. She was sure I’d overwork myself trying to do too much. I guess this is her version of tough love.”

  She’d shown up after closing last night to pack her things. Elle had brought up a couple of empty plastic crates and volunteered to help, but Becca had wanted to be alone.

  Elle had gone home alone, too. She’d thanked Max for his help then asked for the same kind of space she was giving Becca. Time to think.

  And what she decided was her sister was a control freak who made Cupid, nasty little imp that he was, look like a saint.

  All morning long, her thoughts had bounced around from their most recent argument to disputes from childhood to that bleak time after their mother had died. Elle was tired of letting Jane set the rules.

  She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Becca this morning. She hoped she wasn’t about to make things worse between mother and daughter, but she needed to clear the air with her sister. About a lot of things, including Elle’s role in her niece’s life.

  “Noreen, can you handle things for an hour or so? I need to go see my sister.”

  Noreen looked slightly terrified at the prospect of working the coffee bar alone, but she nodded gamely. “You’ll be back before lunch?”

  “Absolutely.” She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair in her office. She took one last look at the fax Max’s son had sent. He’d added a personal note on the cover sheet. “Don’t give up. Dad seems happy. Looking forward to meeting you.”

  Damn right she wouldn’t give up, she thought, hurrying outside. The temperature had warmed to ten degrees above zero, and the snow underfoot crackled as she marched
down Main to her sister’s office.

  She opened the door and walked into instant warmth. Rebecca was at her desk in the foyer. Stacks of folders occupied every square inch. “Aunt Elle, what are you doing here? Did I forget something in the studio?”

  “No, dear heart,” Elle said, sloughing off her jacket. “You left the place spotless, and looking at that empty space this morning broke my heart. Is your mother here?”

  Becca stood up. “Um, yeah, she is. Um…you know last night—”

  Elle didn’t want to hear her niece apologize for not accepting Elle’s help. “I understand,” she said, cutting Becca off. “This isn’t about you. This is between me and Jane. And, believe me, it’s long overdue.”

  “But…”

  Elle marched to Jane’s office and walked in without knocking. Jane was facing her computer, her back to the door, but she swiveled in her seat when Elle said, “Jane, we need to talk.”

  Jane didn’t ask Elle to sit down, but Elle was too wired to stay still.

  “I know we’ve never been close. Even as a little kid, I knew you didn’t like me. I never understood why. I didn’t steal your toys or take clothes from your closet or borrow your car without asking. I didn’t do anything to deserve your wrath, but I’ve always been on the receiving end of it. Why?”

  Jane didn’t reply at first, then she said, “Because everything was so damn easy for you. You didn’t have to get perfect grades—all you had to do was blink your baby blues and smile and your teachers passed you. You didn’t have to work. I started helping out in the gas station office when I was ten. If not for me and Mom, Dad would have given away more gas than he sold.”

  “I was five, Jane. What did you expect me to do?”

  “I maintained a four-point average and got three scholarships so I could go to college. Mom and Dad gave you a free ride, and what did you do with it? Partied. I was the one who convinced them that they should cut you off until you brought up your grades.”

  “You what?”

  She shrugged. “I told them you’d never appreciate your education unless you earned it.” She made a scoffing sound. “Of course, you immediately got pregnant, married and divorced without any kind of child support, which meant you needed Mom and Dad’s help anyway. So I guess the last laugh was on me, right?”

  “Wow. You really do think you’re God.” Elle stepped to the desk and leaned over, placing her hands on the blotter. “For your information, I paid Dad back every cent I borrowed after my divorce. We’re talking thirty years ago, Jane. Thirty lousy years, but I still have a copy of the canceled checks. Do you know why? Because Dad wrote a little note on the back of each one telling me how proud he was that I was getting my life together and what a good mother I was.” Tears filled her eyes. “Do you want to see them, Jane? They included interest.”

  Jane blushed. “Mom didn’t know.”

  “Why does that surprise you? She was so tight-fisted, this was probably the only spending money Dad had to call his own. I bet he used it to buy her flowers on Valentine’s Day,” Elle said, her voice cracking with emotion.

  “She always said if she didn’t keep a tight rein on Dad’s spending he’d move them straight into the poorhouse.”

  Elle got her emotions under control and nodded. “I know. And she was probably right. Dad was generous to a fault, but he knew he had a safety net. There was never any doubt that they loved each other and complemented each other. And you’re a lot like Mom. Everybody’s safety net. But I’m living proof, Jane. Sometimes the fall doesn’t kill you.”

  “What does that mean? That you’re better than me because you take risks? You bounce around the country, changing jobs on a whim. Raising your daughter without any boundaries, any rules?”

  Elle straightened up and let out a deep sigh. “My daughter turned out great. Happy. Confident. You’ll see that for yourself when she comes for a visit later this month. As for my work history, I call it the school of hard knocks. I graduated summa cum laude. But for your information, I was with the same company for nine years until Mom fell and needed help. I came back because I thought I owed us both that time together. Family was more important to me than money.”

  Jane’s lips tightened.

  “And my early years were a good proving ground for sales. I learned how to run a business. Cup O’Love is succeeding—despite your lack of support. I don’t care that you’ve never walked through the door to buy a cup of coffee. I don’t need your help, Jane. Next week, I’m going to see about securing a loan to buy the building. If you don’t want to sell, then you’re going to be stuck with me as a tenant because I’m not moving, Jane. Ever.”

  She turned and took a step away. “That’s all I have to say, except…Happy Valentine’s Day. I’d have brought you a Rebecca Potter card, but we just sold out.”

  FIRST THING WEDNESDAY morning, Max arranged for a substitute to handle his afternoon classes. He left the high school at noon and headed straight to the Cup. He’d gotten very little sleep the night before since he’d spent so much time rectifying his deceit.

  First, he forwarded all the e-mail from men who had responded to Elle’s dateathon page. He’d tried to stack the odds in his favor by redirecting her applicants to his trash bin, and he wasn’t proud of that “nerd” maneuver.

  Second, he’d filled out his own personal sheet, answering her questions as honestly as possible. This wasn’t the elaborate proposal he’d originally planned. In fact, compared to a few of the guys who’d e-mailed her, his bio wasn’t outstanding in any way. Except that he knew her and loved her. The real her, not the Elle she’d described on her dateathon profile.

  Last, he’d called Potter Accounting Services and left a message on Jane’s answering machine telling her that he planned to find a new accountant. “You talk about building up local businesses, but you’ve never shown the least bit of support for Cup O’ Love. That tells me I need to find a company that walks the walk, not just talks the talk.”

  The Cup was bustling when he walked in, after driving around the block twice to find a parking place. Seeing the upsurge in business did his heart good, but he didn’t see Elle behind the counter. Noreen, Elle’s regular helper, and two other employees were dashing madly while a line of customers waited. Everyone seemed in high spirits. He wasn’t sure why…until he noticed a sign above the cash register that read: Half off any purchase for all dateathon participants.

  He knew the party wasn’t scheduled until seven, but the party atmosphere was unmistakable. He glanced at the far table—the one adorned with red and white hearts.

  Elle. Seated at a laptop with five or six women crowded around her. All were smiling. Including Elle, who looked so amazingly beautiful—joyous, even—that he couldn’t move. Until she looked up and their gazes met.

  Her smile changed to a look he wasn’t sure he dared interpret. Triumph? Satisfaction? What did that mean?

  He walked to the table. “Hi. Can we talk?”

  She glanced sideways as if seeking permission from her peers. Max checked out the women. Locals. All single, in the thirty to sixty age range. Two gazed at him curiously. Two snickered. Good grief, are we back in high school?

  “Actually I’m kinda busy…catching up on my e-mail. From the past couple of weeks,” she said pointedly.

  Max felt himself blush.

  “Max, how could you? You’re my Web master. I trusted you.”

  He looked at the toes of his boots and wished he could crawl under the table.

  “All this time I thought men must find me repulsive, undesirable. You’re a teacher, Max. You know what that might mean to my self-esteem.”

  Three giggles and a snort made him look up. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes made his heart stop for a second. Two of the women started to laugh openly with comments like, “Make him grovel, Elle” and “Don’t let him off too easy, honey.”

  Max wasn’t sure who that one came from. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Elle. “I cheated. I admit it. Par
tly because I could…once a nerd, always a nerd. Partly because I didn’t want some guy slipping in the back door while I was being noble and waiting for you to notice me.”

  She pointed to the computer screen. “Did you mean everything you said in your profile? Even the part about getting married again?”

  Max took an unplanned step back. When he’d filled out his profile, he’d left out the M-word, deciding it was too soon to bring up the subject. They’d only started dating again. He hadn’t even met her daughter.

  A sudden hush fell over the room.

  “Marriage?” he asked.

  Elle nodded. “This is you, isn’t it?” she asked, pointing to the screen. “I certainly hope so because I’ve just e-mailed all the other potential dates who signed up on my list to let them know that I picked Arnold ‘The Maximum’ Maxwell to be my valentine.”

  He scrambled to see what she was looking at. In the upper right hand corner was his photo—the one on his school ID, which he hated because it made him look like a science teacher. That definitely hadn’t been there last night. Further scrutiny proved that someone had been tinkering with his remarks.

  “We especially liked the way you answered question number four, didn’t we, ladies?”

  Her friends laughed.

  He quickly read the line in question. “Oh.” He couldn’t stop the blush that heated his face. “Um, that would be a slight exaggeration. In fact, I’m not even sure that’s anatomically possible.”

  He looked around. Someone mumbled something about “Maybe that’s how he got the nickname Maximus.”

  Max’s cheeks burned. “Um…there’s a simple explanation, and when I get my hands on the meddling, overachieving juvenile delinquents who doctored my answers, I’ll…”

  “Hug them?” Elle asked. “It seems appropriate. Since they did build a formidable case for why I should date you and nobody else.”

  He looked at her, and he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. She wasn’t smiling because she was amused. She was happy. “They did?”