Black Rose - NRoberts - G2 Black Rose

 What was the deal with the second husband and the divorce, for instance? None of his business, of course, but he could justify the curiosity. The more he knew, the more he knew. And it wouldn’t be difficult to find out. People just loved to talk.

 All you had to do was ask the questions.

 On impulse, he detoured back into the center. There were a few customers debating over the poinsettias and some sort of cactus-looking plant that was loaded with pink blossoms. Mitch had barely raked a hand through his wet hair when Hayley arrowed in his direction.

 “Dr. Carnegie! What a nice surprise.”

 “Mitch. How are you, Hayley, and the baby?”

 “We both couldn’t be better. But look at you, you’re soaked! Can I get you a towel?”

 “No, I’m fine. I couldn’t resist walking around, looking the place over.”

 “Oh.” She beamed at him, all innocence. “Were you looking for Roz?”

 “Found her. I’m about to head over to the house, get a sense of my work space there. But I thought maybe I’d pick up one of those tabletop trees. The ones that’re already decorated.”

 “Aren’t they sweet? Really nice for a small space, or an office.”

 “A lot nicer than the old artificial one I fight to put together every year.”

 “And they smell just like Christmas.” She steered him over. “You see one you like?”

 “Ah . . . this one’s fine.”

 “I just love all the little red bows and those tiny Santas. I’ll get you a box for it.”

 “Thanks. What are those?”

 “Those are Christmas cacti. Aren’t they beautiful? Harper grafts them. He’s going to show me how one of these days. You know, you should have one. They’re so celebrational. And they bloom for Christmas and Easter.”

 “I’m not good with plants.”

 “Why, you don’t have to do much of anything for it.” She set those big baby blue eyes on him. “You live in an apartment, don’t you? If you take the tree, a Christmas cactus, a couple of poinsettias, you’ll be all decorated for the holidays. You can have company over, and be set.”

 “I don’t know how much attention Josh is going to pay to a cactus.”

 She smiled. “Maybe not, but you must have a date over for a holiday drink, right?”

 “Ah . . . I’ve been pretty busy with the book.”

 “A handsome single man like you must have to beat the ladies off with a stick.”

 “Not lately. Um—”

 “You should have a wreath for the door, too.”

 “A wreath.” He began to feel slightly desperate as she took his arm.

 “Let me show you what we’ve got. I made some of these myself. See this one here? Just smell that pine. What’s Christmas without a wreath on the door?”

 He knew when he was outgunned. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”

 “You bet,” she said with a laugh and selected a wreath. “This one goes so well with your tree.”

 She talked him into the wreath, three windowsill-size poinsettias, and the cactus. He looked bemused and a little dazed as she rang it all up and boxed his purchases.

 And when he left, Hayley knew what she wanted to know.

 She dashed into Stella’s office.

 “Mitch Carnegie’s not seeing anybody.”

 “Was he recently blinded?”

 “Come on, Stella, you know what I mean. He doesn’t have a sweetie.” She drew off her cap, raked her fingers through her oak-brown hair she was wearing long enough to pull back into a stubby tail.

 “And he just spent a good half hour in the propagation house with Roz before he came in here to buy a tabletop tree. Harper sent him in there without even letting her know. Just go right on in while she’s working and doesn’t even have time to swipe on some lipstick.”

 “Just sent him in? What is Harper, stupid?”

 “Exactly what I asked him—Harper, that is. Anyway, then he—Mitch—came in all wet because he’d been walking around the place checking it out. He’s going over to the house for a while now.”

 “Hayley.” Stella turned from her computer. “What are you cooking?”

 “Just observing, that’s all. He’s not seeing anybody, she’s not seeing anybody.” She lifted her hands, pointing both index fingers, then wiggled them toward each other. “Now they’re both going to be seeing a lot of each other. And besides being a hottie, he’s so cute. I talked him into buying a wreath, three mini poinsettias, and a Christmas cactus as well as the tree.”

 “Go, Hayley.”

 “But see, he didn’t know how to say no, that was the cute part. If Roz doesn’t go for him, I might myself. Okay, no.” She laughed at Stella’s bland stare. “He’s old enough to be my daddy and blah blah blah, but he’s just perfect for Roz. I’m telling you, I know this stuff. Wasn’t I right about you and Logan?”

 Stella sighed as she looked at the aquamarine he’d given her as an engagement ring. “I can’t argue about that. And while I’m going to say, firmly, that observing’s all we should do, I can’t deny this may be a lot of fun to watch.”

 FOUR

AS A RULEwhen he was working, Mitch remembered to clean his apartment when he ran out of places to sit, or coffee cups. Between projects he was slightly better at shoveling out, or at least rearranging the debris.

 He hired cleaning services. In fact, he hired them routinely. They never lasted long, and the fault—he was willing to admit—was largely his.

 He’d forget which day he’d scheduled them and, invariably, pick that day to run errands, do research, or meet his kid for a quick game of Horse or one-on-one. There was probably something Freudian about that, but he didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

 Or he’d remember, and the team would come in, goggle at the job facing them. And he’d never see them again.

 But a man had to—or at least should—make an effort for the holidays. He spent an entire day hauling out, scrubbing down, and sweeping up, and was forced to admit that if he were being paid to do the job, he’d quit, too.

 Still, it was nice to have some order back in his apartment, to actually be able to see the surface of tables, the cushions of chairs. Though he didn’t hold out much hope he’d keep them alive for the long-term, the plants Hayley had talked him into added a nice holiday touch.

 And the little tree, well, that was ingenious. Now instead of dragging the box out of storage, fighting with parts, cursing the tangle of lights only to discover half of them didn’t work anyway, all he had to do was set the cheerful tree on the Hepplewhite stand by his living room window and plug the sucker in.

 He hung the wreath on the front door, set the blooming cactus on his coffee table, and the three little poinsettias on the top of the toilet tank. It worked for him.

 By the time he’d showered, dragged on jeans and a shirt, his date for the evening was knocking at the door.

 Barefoot, his hair still damp, Mitch crossed the living room to answer. And grinned at the only person he loved without reservation.

 “Forget your key?”

 “Wanted to make sure I had the right place.” Joshua Carnegie tapped a finger on the greenery. “You’ve got a wreath on your door.”

 “It’s Christmas.”

 “I heard a rumor about that.” He walked in, and his eyes, the same sharp green shade as his father’s, widened.

 He was taller than Mitch by a full inch, but spread the height on the same lanky frame. His hair was dark, and it was shaggy. Not because he forgot haircuts like his father, but because he wanted it that way.

 He wore a hooded gray sweatshirt and baggy jeans.

 “Wow. You find a new cleaning service? Do they get combat pay?”

 “No, haven’t had a chance. Besides, I think I’ve ripped through all the cleaning services in western Tennessee.”

 “You cleaned up?” Lips pursed, Josh took a brief tour of the living room. “You’ve got a plant—with flowers on it.”

 “You’re taking that with you.”

 “I am.”

 “I’ll kill it. I’ve already heard it gasping. I can’t be responsible.”

 “Sure.” Josh pulled absently on his ear. “It’ll jazz up the dorm. Hey. You got this little tree going on. And candles.”

 “It’s Christmas,” Mitch repeated, even as Josh leaned down to sniff the fat red candle.

 “Smelly candles. Plus, if I’m not mistaken, you vacuumed.” Eyes narrowed he looked back at his father. “You’ve got a woman.”

 “Not on me, no. More’s the pity. Want a Coke?”

 “Yeah.” With a shake of his head, Josh started toward the bathroom. “Gotta use the john. We getting pizza?”

 “Your choice.”

 “Pizza,” Josh called out. “Pepperoni and sausage. Extra cheese.”

 “My arteries are clogging just hearing that,” Mitch called out as he pulled two cans of Coke out of the refrigerator. From experience, he knew his son could steam through most of a pie on his own and still stay lean as a greyhound.

 Oh, to be twenty again.

 He speed-dialed the local pizza parlor, ordered a large for Josh, and a medium veggie-style for himself.

 When he turned, he saw Josh leaning against the jamb, feet crossed at the ankles of his Nike Zooms. “You’ve got flowers in the john.”

 “Poinsettias. Christmas. Deal.”

 “You’ve got a woman. If you haven’t bagged one, you’ve got one in the sights. So spill.”

 “No woman.” He tossed one of the cans to Josh. “Just a clean apartment with a few holiday touches.”

 “We have ways of making you talk. Where’d you meet her? Is she a babe?”

 “Not talking.” Laughing, Mitch popped the can.

 “I’ll get it out of you.”

 “Nothing to get.” Mitch walked by him into the living room. “Yet.”

 “Ah-ha!” Josh followed him in, plopped down on the couch, propped his feet on the coffee table.

 “I repeat: Not talking. And that’s a prematureah-ha . Anyway, I’m just feeling a little celebrational. Book’s done, which means a check will be in the mail shortly. I’m starting on a new, interesting project—”

 “Already? No decompressing?”

 “I’ve had this one dangling awhile, and I want to get on it full steam. It’s better than thinking about Christmas shopping.”

 “Why do you have to think about it? It’s still a couple weeks away.”

 “Now, that’s my boy.” Mitch raised his Coke in toast. “So how are your mother and Keith?”

 “Good. Fine.” Josh took a long swallow from his can. “She’s all jazzed up about the holidays. You know how it is.”

 “Yeah, I do.” He gave Josh an easy slap on the knee. “It’s not a problem, Josh. Your mom wants you home for the holidays. That’s the way it should be.”

 “You could come. You know you could come.”

 “I know, and I appreciate it. But it’d be better if I just hang out here. We’ll have our Christmas deal before you leave. It’s important to her to have you there. She’s entitled. It’s important for you, too.”

 “I don’t like thinking about you being alone.”

 “Just me and my cup of gruel.” It was a sting, it always was. But it was one he’d earned.

 “You could go to Grandma’s.”

 “Please.” Exaggerated pain covered Mitch’s face, rang in his voice. “Why would you wish that on me?”

 Josh smirked. “You could wear that reindeer sweater she got you a couple years ago.”

 “Sorry, but there’s a nice homeless person who’ll be sporting that this holiday season. When do you head out?”

 “Twenty-third.”

 “We can do our thing the twenty-second if that works for you.”

 “Sure. I’ve just got to juggle Julie. She’s either going to Ohio to her mother’s, or L.A. to her father’s. It’s seriously messed up. They’re both doing the full court press on her, laying on the guilt and obligation crap, and she’s all, ‘I don’t want to see either one of them.’ She’s either crying or bitchy, or both.”

 “We parents can certainly screw up our children.”

 “You didn’t.” He took another drink, then turned the can around in his hands. “I don’t want to get all Maury Povich or whatever, but I wanted to say that you guys never made me the rope in your personal tug-of-war. I’ve sort of been thinking about that, with all this shit Julie’s going through. You and Mom, you never hung that trip on me. Never made me feel like I had to choose or ripped on each other around me. It sucks when people do. It sucks long.”

 “Yeah, it does.”

 “I remember, you know, before you guys split. It was rugged all around. But even then, neither of you used me as a hammer on the other. That’s what’s going on with Julie, and it makes me realize I was lucky. So I just wanted to say.”

 “That’s a . . . That’s a good thing to hear.”

 “Well, now that we’ve had this Hallmark moment, I’m getting another Coke. Pregame show should be coming on.”

 “I’m on that.” Mitch picked up the remote. He wondered what stars had shone on him to give him the gift of such a son.

 “Hey, man! Salt and vinegar chips!”

 Hearing the bag rip, and the knock on the door, Mitch grinned, and rising, took out his wallet to pay for the pizza.

 “IDON ’T GETit, Stella. I just don’t get it.” Hayley paced Stella’s room while the boys splashed away in the adjoining bath.

 “The sexy black shoes that will kill my feet, or the more elegant pumps?”

 When Stella stood, one of each pair on either foot, Hayley stopped pacing long enough to consider them. “Sexy.”

 “I was afraid of that. Well.” Stella took them both off, replaced the rejected pair in her closet. Her outfit for the evening was laid out on the bed, the jewelry she’d already selected was in a tray on the dresser.

 Now all she had to do was settle the boys down for the night, get dressed, deal with her hair, her makeup. Check the boys again, check the baby monitors. And . . . Hayley’s pacing and muttering distracted her enough to have her turn.

 “What? Why are you so nervous? Do you have a date going on for tonight’s party I don’t know about?”

 “No. But it’s dates I’m talking about. Why would Roz tell Mitch to bring a date? Now he probably will, because he’ll think if he doesn’t, he’ll look like a loser. And they’ll both miss a golden opportunity.”

 “I missed something.” She hooked on her earrings, studied the results. “How do you know Roz told him to bring a date? How do you find this stuff out?”

 “It’s a gift of mine. Anyway, what’s up with her? Here’s this perfectly gorgeous and available man, and she invites him for tonight—points there. But then tells him he can bring somebody. Jeez.”

 “She’d have considered it the polite thing to do, I guess.”

 “You can’t be polite in the dating wars, for God’s sake.” On a long huff, Hayley plopped down on the foot of the bed, then lifted her legs out to examine her own shoes. “You know,date ’s from the Latin—or maybe it’s Old English. Anyway, it comes fromdata —and it’s afemale part of speech. Female, Stella. We’re supposed to take the controls.”