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Chapter Ten. BEN WAS SURPRISED to see his daughter at the breakfast table when he came down the stairs






BEN WAS SURPRISED to see his daughter at the breakfast table when he came down the stairs. She was spooning her usual brightly colored cereal into her mouth, grunting a vague reply to his greeting, seemingly absorbed in the morning paper.

He whistled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. " Looks like another gorgeous day, " he remarked. " What's going on around here? It's never this nice, this long."

He sat across from Taylor, snagging the business section of the paper, and began to read. After a mere minute or two, he peered over the top of it at his daughter.

" What do you think of Melanie? "

Except for the fact that she had stopped chewing, it would seem Taylor didn't hear the question. She resumed her task, swallowing, and clearing her throat before answering simply, " She seems very nice." Hoping he would just leave it at that, she closed her eyes when he spoke again.

" She is. Very nice. We had a wonderful time at dinner last night."

" I'm glad."

" She really knows her way around a corporation. Did you know she was the Vice President of Marketing at a big firm in Chicago? "

" Yup."

Ben narrowed his eyes at his daughter, who had yet to look up at him. " Something bothering you, T.? "

" Nope."

" Taylor..." Ben resorted to his don't-lie-to-your-dad tone, which brought his daughter's eyes up, finally, to meet his. " What is it? "

Taylor wasn't about to give away her secrets. Gee, Dad, I'd rather you didn't date Melanie, because I want to. Instead, she said matter-of-factly, " Don't you think she's a little young for you? "

Ben didn't know why he was surprised by the comment, but he was. " Well, " he stumbled. " I... guess I... I hadn't really thought about it."

" You're nearly fifty, Dad. She's thirty-three, " Taylor supplied.

He knitted his brows together for a moment, before bursting into a smile. " I couldn't even tell last night. She's so much on my level."

Taylor rolled her eyes, standing to brush off her skirt, and depositing her bowl in the sink. " I've gotta go." She knew if she listened to one more minute of her father carrying on like a schoolboy, she'd toss her Fruity Pebbles right there on the kitchen table.

Ben stared in bewilderment long after his daughter left the kitchen. She'd been acting a little strange since last night. Hmm.

Maybe living with him again was getting to her. He sighed, and sipped his coffee. She'd been mothering him long enough. Anna had been gone almost two years now. He made a mental note to have a talk with Taylor about her getting her own place once more.

Maybe that would ease her mind a bit.

 

THE LUNCH HOUR traffic on Monroe Avenue was beginning to die down. Instead of speeding to various restaurants, hoping to make their business lunches on time, people were now in a hurry to get back to their respective places of employment, like worker ants returning to the anthill before they have a chance to be missed by the queen. Even the stream of hungry customers at the cafe next door to the bookshop, which had flowed steadily for over an hour, had slowed to a trickle.

The summer sun was warm on Melanie's rust-colored head as she chased away an itch on her nose with a paint-streaked forearm. Dressed in a faded pair of Buffalo Bills gym shorts and a torn red T-shirt she had salvaged from the bottom of Sam's dresser drawers, she'd been working nonstop since mid-morning. She set down her paintbrush, bending her aching wrist at various angles, trying to alleviate the cramping that had set in. Not used to this physical labor, she thought. One of the disadvantages of a desk job. She took a step backward on the concrete sidewalk to survey her handiwork, scrutinizing it critically, as an artist would her most inspired creation.

It was plain to see that it would take at least another coat, probably two, of the soothing azure blue before it thoroughly covered the ugly brown underneath. Even so, the vast improvement was remarkable. Melanie's intention had been to make the outside of the shop softer and more inviting. She knew that once people were through the front door, the warmth and charm of the interior would win them over. Judging from Jeff's sales records, the drab, mud-colored exterior wasn't exactly sucking in the customers. A new coat of paint seemed to be the simplest first step toward an image change. She'd spent nearly two hours sifting through colored rectangular swatches, pushing the normally patient young man behind the paint counter dangerously close to the brink of insanity, before finally settling on the soft blue, along with a deep cobalt for the trim. Melanie smiled as she remembered how he had been blissfully relieved to see her go.

Nodding with satisfaction at coat number one, she knelt, prying the lid off of the smaller can of paint meant for the doorframe and trim. She submerged her flat, wooden stir stick into liquid the color of blueberry skins, using her left hand to do the work in an attempt to rest the aching right before subjecting it to more torture.

" Wow. What a difference."

The exclamation came from behind her, startling Melanie, so absorbed in her work was she, and causing her to jump visibly.

" Sorry, " the friendly voice came again. " I didn't mean to scare you."

Melanie turned toward the source of the voice, and looked up into a pair of sparkling, smiling blue eyes. She stood, smiling sheepishly. " It's okay. I've been accused of becoming so engrossed in my work that I don't notice the world around me. I guess my accusers are right. That's the second time in a week somebody's gotten me."

" My name's Lynda Murphy. I own the café next door." She gestured to her left. " Thought you could use this. You've been out here for quite a while." She held a bottle of Snapple iced tea towards Melanie, who smiled widely, touched by the thoughtfulness of this woman she'd never met.

" Thank you." Melanie took several gulps from the bottle, blotting her lips on the back of her hand. " I didn't realize how thirsty I am. That was really very sweet of you. I'm Melanie. Melanie Larson." She offered her hand. The cafe owner shook it firmly.

Lynda Murphy was an athletic-looking woman, dressed neatly yet comfortably in khaki shorts, a white T-shirt, and black work boots. A white apron, smeared with various samplings of the day's specials, was cinched around her waist. She had close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair, and sported four silver earrings in each ear. Melanie guessed her to be in her fifties.

Lynda gestured toward the bookshop. " This really does look a hundred percent better. That awful brown was just depressing. Are you the new owner? "

" Not exactly. My cousin and her soon-to-be ex-husband still own it. I'm just trying to fix it. Make it so maybe it will bring in some money."

Lynda laughed, a light, musical sound that was much more feminine than Melanie expected. " So, you're Sammi's cousin? "

Melanie smirked at the familiar term and nodded. " How the hell is she? I haven't seen her in ages." " Well, that makes two of us."

Melanie made no attempt at further explanation, and Lynda didn't push. " Tell her I said hello, would you? "

" Sure." She surveyed her handiwork, feeling guilty for being short with this kind woman. " I think I need a break. Can you come in for a minute? "

" Love to."

It took only a few minutes for Melanie and Lynda to forge an easy friendship. Lynda was cheerful and funny and Melanie liked her immediately. They chatted for nearly an hour and a half, trading stories about life and work, as comfortable with one another as they would be if they'd been friends for decades. Lynda was a recently single, very out lesbian, having broken up with her lover of eight years, and was only now starting to enjoy the single life. She'd purchased the Pita Paradise cafe four years ago. Specializing in unique and healthy sandwiches and creative salads had given her a niche, especially in the downtown location she occupied, and she was remarkably successful with her lunch business.

" You’ve really cleaned this place up, " Lynda remarked, looking around the sparkling shop. " It looks like a different store." It was true. Melanie had spent the entire day Wednesday scrubbing, dusting, and straightening the little shop. It now shone like a new penny, and Melanie absorbed the compliment proudly. Lynda turned and winked at her. " I hope Sammi's paying you well."

Melanie chewed on her lower lip. " Um...she doesn't exactly know."

Lynda raised her eyebrows in question.

" I know, I know, " Melanie argued. " She's out of town. See, Sam's dad actually owns it, and he asked me to look into why it's not doing so well." She shrugged innocently. " I decided the shit-brown exterior had something to do with it."

The older woman burst into laughter. " I've got to say, I'm with you on that one." She glanced at her watch. " Yikes! I'd better go before Julie issues an APB on me. She gets upset if I leave her with the customers for too long on her own." She held out her hand, and Melanie shook it warmly. " It was nice to meet you, Ms. Larson. I look forward to seeing you again soon."

" Thanks for the tea."

" Can't have you dehydrating in the middle of the sidewalk. Bad for business." With a wink, she was gone.

Melanie headed back out to her paint with a grin, deciding she liked Rochester very, very much.

 

BY THE TIME Melanie returned to the carriage house Saturday afternoon, her wrists were killing her. She'd applied the entire second coat, hoping that would be the end of it. No luck. A third coat was definitely a necessity. " If I never see another paintbrush as long as I live, it'll be too soon, " she mumbled, stripping out of her stained clothing and stepping directly into the shower. She let the soothing spray ease her tired muscles. Luckily, it hadn't been that hot out, and she was able to complete her task without the danger of heat stroke.

Lynda had ventured over around noon with a chicken salad pita and another Snapple. " What did I tell you about dehydrating on the sidewalk? " she'd scolded the redhead with a smile, refusing to take any money for the food.

Melanie had been glad to see her. She'd been missing having somebody to talk to, unable to locate Taylor since they bumped into each other—literally—as she and Ben were on their way to dinner two nights before. She rephrased that in her own head as the water pelted her. No, she hadn't been missing somebody, she'd been missing Taylor. Hmm. Interesting.

Saturday was a light day for Lynda, so she'd spent much of her time popping her head out to chat with Melanie as she painted.

" Benefit of owning the business...you're the boss." She'd grinned when Melanie asked her if her assistant would get mad that she was visiting. Having Lynda to chat with had made the day go by faster, and before Melanie realized it, coat number two was finished.

She'd decided to take the next day off, to rest and to think. The more time she spent at the little bookshop, the more attached to it she became. Today, she'd actually had a vision of herself as the owner. She'd changed it into a little specialty bookshop—the specialty still undecided—and it was hers. After all, Sam had said to sell it, hadn't she?

On the other hand, it was a huge change from the world of marketing. What did she know about selling books? Did she think she could just come along and make things work, after Sam and Jeff had failed so miserably? Still, she couldn't get the idea out of her head. Would Uncle Phil even consider selling it to her? She realized she wouldn't actually make a profit for quite some time, but she had enough money in the bank. That, plus her severance package, should keep her afloat for quite a while, allowing her to cultivate the business.

It was certainly a thought that had chewed at the edges of her mind all day. She had been surprised to realize that she really wanted to talk to Taylor about it. For some reason, she valued the younger woman's opinion, and was sure if this was a ridiculous idea, Taylor would find a way to tell her so without making her feel like a spanked child. She changed into a pair of denim shorts and a pink T-shirt, then blew her hair dry. Taylor's car was not in the driveway, but maybe Ben would know when she planned on returning. She finished her hair, and headed out the door, strolling across the lawn towards the back door of the main house.

The grill was hot, and Ben came out of the kitchen just as Melanie turned the corner.

" Melanie, " he exclaimed, obviously happy to see her. He held up a plate with two hamburger patties. " Join me? "

" Oh, no, " Melanie protested. " I'm always interrupting your dinner. I'm sorry. I was actually looking for your daughter."

Ben flicked his eyes quickly over her, careful not to offend her, but pleased by what he saw. This woman had incredible legs.

" Taylor's been working late on some project. I haven't seen much of her in the past couple days."

" Hmm."

" Please, Melanie, join me. Taylor mixed this ground beef up the same way she makes her meatballs... it's delicious. And I've got enough left in the kitchen to make one more patty." She was about to decline, so he gave her a pout. " You don't want me to eat alone, do you? "

She sighed, defeated. She'd really wanted to talk to Taylor, but she supposed she'd just have to wait. In the meantime, she really didn't want to eat alone, either. " Oh, all right. On one condition. You let me buy you dinner next week for a change."

" You've got yourself a deal, young lady." He grinned, hurrying off to flatten another burger.

 


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