Susan Mallery - Sweet Spot

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Claire asked.

Nicole continued to flip through the shirts on the rack. “No.”

“Come on. It’s pink.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not even looking.”

Nicole held in a smile. “I don’t have to look. No. It doesn’t fit.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re maybe three months pregnant and you’ve gained all of five pounds. You don’t need maternity clothes.”

“But I want to buy something.”

“Get a receiving blanket.”

“I want something I can wear.”

Nicole glanced up and groaned as she saw her sister standing in front of a mirror wearing a bright pink T-shirt with a sequined arrow pointing toward her stomach and the word Baby in case anyone was confused.

“You’re kidding,” Nicole muttered.

“Maybe not this one, but I want people to know I’m pregnant.”

“Have cards printed. You could hand them out to everyone you see.”

“You’re not helping.”

“You don’t need help being insane. You do great all on your own.”

Claire flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. “You’re not a very good sister.”

Nicole smiled. “I’m the best sister you have and your favorite twin.”

“My only twin and I haven’t decided if you’re my favorite sister. Maybe one with ducks?”

“No.”

“Bunnies?”

“The baby is the size of a pencil eraser, Claire. Maybe a grape. You don’t need special clothes because you’re carrying a grape.”

“But I’m pregnant.”

“In a couple of months, when you’ve gained all of eight pounds, we’ll talk. Until then, wearing anything maternity is going to make you look like you’re in a potato sack.”

“But I’m excited.”

“I know, and you should be. This is very cool news.”

Claire beamed.

Nicole considered her own genuine excitement at her sister’s pregnancy a testament to her good character. She could find happiness for Claire even knowing the odds of her ever having a kid of her own were as great as her winning the lotto…not that she ever bought a ticket. Pregnancy, unless one wanted to get science involved, generally meant having a man around. She’d given up on men. Permanently.

“Are you okay?” Claire asked. “You’re thinking of Drew, aren’t you?”

Nicole flinched and leaned more weight on her cane. “How do you do that? Know what I’m thinking?”

“We’re twins.”

“Fraternal.”

“Still. I know you.”

It was borderline creepy, Nicole thought. And annoying. She didn’t know what Claire was thinking all the time.

“I’m not thinking of Drew,” Nicole told her. She refused to waste any mental time or energy on her soon-to-be ex-husband. “I was thinking about men in general.”

“You’ll find someone,” Claire promised, sounding irritatingly pitying.

“I don’t want anyone. I’m barely separated and I’m perfectly content to be on my own.” Or she would be if everyone in her life stopped assuming she was crumbling from the emotional devastation of walking in on her baby sister in bed with her husband.

Yes, it had been horrible and degrading and maybe even heartbreaking. But she was dealing.

“I need to get used to being alone,” Nicole said.

“Why? You were alone before, when you were married to Drew.”

“Ouch.”

Claire sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out that way.”

“It’s fine.” Nicole wouldn’t show heartache. Not even to her sister.

Claire gave her a gentle smile. One that spoke about compassion and an internal decision to bring this up later. When Claire felt Nicole was stronger, emotionally.

Oh, great. Now she could read her twin’s mind? How delightful.

Nicole glanced at her watch. “We need to go meet Wyatt.”

“Oh! The time. I’ll hurry.”

Claire darted back into the dressing room. Nicole wondered if she should scold herself for tricking her sister into forgetting to talk about Nicole’s tragic life, but then decided she’d earned the reprieve. After all, here it was, a Friday night and she was at the mall, an obvious extra party in what should have been a twosome. But they’d asked and she hadn’t wanted to spend the evening by herself.

“I’ll meet you out front,” Nicole called toward the dressing room.

“I’ll just be a sec,” Claire promised.

Nicole walked out of the maternity store and found Wyatt waiting by the front window display. He looked uncomfortable as he studied an obviously pregnant mannequin.

“Hey,” she said. “You owe me. I just kept your fiancée from buying something hideous.”

“You did it for yourself,” Wyatt told her. “You’d care more than I would.”

Nicole knew that was true, so she ignored the statement. She glanced at the bag in Wyatt’s hand. It was from the bookstore.

“Another instruction manual on pregnancy,” she teased. “Is there one left you don’t have already?”

“We want to do it right,” Wyatt told her. “Like you’d be any different.”

Nicole knew she wouldn’t, but that wasn’t the point. She was about to suggest they take in a movie when Wyatt said, “How are you doing?”

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“We haven’t talked in a while. You okay? You know. With stuff?”

“Stuff” being man-talk for anything emotional.

Wyatt had been her friend and brother-in-law long before he’d fallen for Claire. He knew way too many of her secrets. He’d offered to beat the crap out of Drew when he’d learned about the cheating. She loved him like a brother-except for right now when she wanted to slap him upside the head.

“Have you and Claire been talking about me?” she demanded. “Am I the subject of one of those horrible ‘what are we going to do about poor Nicole?’ conversations? Because if I am, you need to stop right now. I don’t need help from either of you. I’m fine. Better than fine.”

Wyatt was unimpressed by her outburst. “You’re mostly staying home, you’re not seeing anyone. You’re crabbier than usual, which is a trick.”

“I’m not in the mood to date. I know that’s a surprise, but there we are.”

“Don’t judge everyone by Drew, okay? There are great guys out there. You need to get back on the horse again.”

“Tell me you didn’t just say that. Back on the horse? I didn’t fall off my bike. My husband cheated on me with my little sister. In my house. That is not a ‘back on the horse’ moment. It’s the kind of thing that makes someone rethink her sexual preference, okay?”

Her chest felt tight. Was it just her, or was it hot in here? “Look, I have to go. Thanks for letting me tag along for dinner. I’ll talk to you later.”

She turned and moved away.

“Nicole, wait.”

She kept walking. When she saw the sign, she hurried-as best she could-toward the parking structure, incredibly grateful she’d met them at the mall. At least she had her own car.

Thirty minutes later she was home where it was quiet and familiar and there was no one to ask her stupid questions or feel sorry for her. There were also too many memories and an emptiness that made her flip channels until she found a sitcom. She stared at the screen and vowed she wouldn’t cry over Drew. Not now and not ever again.

SATURDAY MORNING Nicole arrived at the bakery about ten minutes before Raoul was due for his shift. Not that she was actually expecting the teenager. She’d reacted to the moment-she’d been nice. And she was a firm believer that no good deed went unpunished. So he wouldn’t show and she would be pissed, mostly at herself.

She walked toward the rear door of the bakery, only to be joined by a tall, dark-haired kid who fell into step with her.

“Good morning,” Raoul said politely.

She glanced at him. “You’re early.”

“I didn’t want to be late.”

“I’m impressed you’re here at all.”

“You didn’t expect me?”

“No.”

“I gave my word.”

“You stole doughnuts. That makes your word questionable.”

She wasn’t exactly looking at him as she spoke, so she couldn’t be sure, but she caught what looked like a flinch out of the corner of her eyes. Because she doubted him? Because she mentioned the stealing? Great. Every morning should start with a hypersensitive pastry thief.

“You’re also a jock,” she added, not sure why she felt compelled to make him feel better. “I have this thing against jocks. It dates back to high school, when all the guys I had crushes on ignored me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She sighed. “Are you trying to be charming?”

“Only a little. I’m practicing.”

She could guess who the master he’d learned from was. “Save it for someone who’s more easily impressed. I’m immune.”

“I noticed. You didn’t like Coach Hawkins much.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Nicole murmured, even though it was true. She thought Hawk was gorgeous and had an amazing body more than capable of making her entire being go up in flames, but that didn’t mean she had to like the man. There was no way she was going to be taken in by his practiced smile and sexual heat that sizzled so much it probably contributed to global warming.

Raoul held open the door to the bakery. Nicole went in and waved at Phil.

“Morning,” she called.

Phil, an older man dressed all in white, including his apron, hurried toward them.

“Morning,” he said, looking Raoul over. “You ready to do work?”

“Yes, sir.”

Phil didn’t look convinced. “This isn’t going to be easy and I’m not interested in complaints. You hear me? No whining.”

Raoul straightened. “I don’t whine.”

“We’ll see.”

Phil led him away.

Nicole watched them go. Raoul would work off what he owed her by scrubbing massive mixing bowls used to make bread dough. That would be followed by an assortment of tasks designed to make Raoul think twice about stealing rather than buying. She wondered if the lesson would be learned or simply endured.

FOUR HOURS LATER Nicole had gone through the pile in her in-basket, a task she always dreaded. But she’d wanted to stay through Raoul’s shift and working in the bakery itself wasn’t going to happen until she was cane-free. She dropped the invoices into a folder and labeled it to go to her accountant. Phil knocked on the open door and stepped in front of her desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Good. Better than I expected. The kid can work. He does what he’s told, no attitude, no slacking off. I like him.”

Nicole raised her eyebrows. “That’s unusual.”

“Tell me about it. I think you should offer him a job. We need somebody like him in the off-hours. He goes to school and plays football, so he’d be available then. That’s when I could use him.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

Nicole stood and stretched. The ache in her knee was manageable and getting better.

Raoul was in the back, stacking sacks of flour. He set each one squarely on the bag below, making sure the piles wouldn’t lean and eventually topple.

“Nice work,” she said. “You impressed Phil and that’s not easy.”

“Thanks.”

“You want a real job? Part-time. We’d work around your school schedule and football. The pay isn’t bad.” She named an hourly rate slightly above what he would get working retail or even at a restaurant.

Raoul put the last bag in place, then wiped his hands on the apron Phil had found for him.

“I can’t,” he said, not looking at her.

“Okay.”

“I need the money. It’s not that.”

“Then what? It’s casting season for the new TV shows and your agent is going to want you to fly to L.A.?”

That earned her a slight smile that faded quickly. He seemed to collect his courage before looking at her. “You won’t want to hire me. Not yet. I’m going to be eighteen in a couple of weeks. When I’m an adult, I can petition to get my juvenile records sealed. Until then, I have a criminal record.”

She was a little surprised and disappointed. “What did you do?”

“I stole a car when I was twelve. To impress my friends. It was stupid and I got caught five minutes later. I didn’t do anything else before or since. Except the doughnuts and you know about that. I learned my lesson.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “There’s no reason for you to believe me.”

There was one, she thought. Checking out his story would be easy, so he’d be an idiot to lie. And Raoul didn’t strike her as stupid.

“Starting your criminal life by stealing a car is pretty impressive. Most people just shoplift. You headed right into the big league.”

That earned her a slight smile. “I was a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

He was still a kid, she thought. Did he know better now?

“The job offer still stands. It’s not easy work, but it’s honest. And you’ll get all the leftover baked goods you can stomach.”