He stopped and grasped her shoulders. “Are you kidding me? I asked Mrs. Dugan at the breakfast table, and she said this was her shift.”
“She decided to trade with Miss Gaspich. It had to do with irregularity, I think.”
“How could she possibly have irregularity? We’ve got stewed prunes, prune juice, dried prunes, and bran nuggets.”
“I’m afraid to ask why you’re so concerned about Mrs. Dugan’s work schedule.”
Jake removed his slicker and wrapped it around Berry’s shoulders. He opened the downstairs door and gave her a push into the rain. “Run for it.”
Miss Gaspich didn’t bother to look up when Berry and Jake burst into the store. She was instructing a burly elderly gentleman in the art of pizza making. “My goodness, you’re good at this,” she murmured to him.
“Used to be a cook in the navy. And then when my hitch was done I was a butcher. Ran my own shop for forty years, until I retired seven years ago.” He shook his head. “Should never have retired. Life is damn boring. The wife and I were going to travel, but she died before we did much of anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Miss Gaspich whispered.
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It’s okay. We had a good life together.”
Berry glared at Jake. “You’ve done it again.”
“He was supposed to be for Mrs. Dugan.”
“You were going to fix Mrs. Dugan up with a man who has a tattoo on his arm?”
Jake grinned. “It’s an anchor.”
Miss Gaspich slid the pizza into an oven and waved to Berry. “This is William Kozinski. I was showing him how to make pizza.”
William Kozinski extended his hand. “Bill. I’m Jake’s friend.”
Berry looked at him through slitted eyes. “Of course you are.”
“Everyone wants pizza delivered tonight,” Miss Gaspich said. “No one wants to go out in the rain.”
Jake balanced the boxes in his arms. “Come on, Berry. You drive. I’ll deliver.”
Berry looked around. “Where’s Mrs. Fitz?”
“She just left.” Miss Gaspich beamed. “She had a date!”
Bill held up his large butcher’s hand. “Don’t worry about a thing. Mildred and I can handle things here. You young folks go off and do your deliveries.”
Berry turned to Jake. “I’m not leaving this geriatric Lothario alone with my cash register,” she whispered.
“He’s my sister’s father-in-law.”
“Oh.”
Berry slid behind the wheel and turned the key. Rain buffeted the car and dark clouds roiled overhead. “Where’s the first delivery?”
“Sudley Road.”
Berry faced him. “Sudley Road? That’s pretty far away. Don’t we have anything closer?”
“Nope.”
Another one of those nights, she thought, sighing. It was hard to make money when she was driving all over the county. In fact, the profit on these nighttime deliveries was marginal once she surpassed a three-mile radius. Heat from the pizzas drifted forward, warming Berry’s neck, and the cozy aroma of fresh-baked dough filled the car.
Jake relaxed in the seat next to her, content with his role of riding shotgun. Berry watched him from the corner of her eye and thought that sometimes life was very comfortable with Jake. There wasn’t the need to fill every moment with chatter. In fact, if she had to analyze her feelings for him, she would have to admit to feeling… married. It was especially disconcerting since she had been legally married to Allen for four years and never once felt this companionable affection. Life was strange, and there was no accounting for emotions. Emotions went their own way willy-nilly, without consulting The Plan.
Jake sat up straighter as they turned onto Sudley and checked the house numbers. “The white ranch on the left.” He grabbed the pizza box and splashed his way to the front door. By the time he got back he was soaked.
Berry grimaced at the sight of his ruined loafers. She should never have let him do the deliveries. He wouldn’t accept any pay. Yet every day he came directly from school and worked at the Pizza Place until closing. The fact that she was beginning to rely on his help only compounded her feelings of guilt.
After the third delivery he didn’t bother with the hood to his jacket. He couldn’t get any wetter. After the seventh pizza he took his shoes off and rolled his pants to midcalf. It was six o’clock and getting dark.
“That’s it,” he announced, squishing into the car. “I’m going home. I’m not delivering any more pizzas.”
Berry looked in the backseat. “We have one last delivery.”
“Too bad. Let them eat cereal. I’m cold and I’m wet and this whole thing is stupid. You’re not even making any money on these deliveries.”
“But I always deliver.”
“Not any more you don’t. We’re going home to talk.”
“Just what are we going to talk about?”
“We’re going to talk about this pizza business. Then we’re going to talk about us.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. My pizza business is doing fine, and there’s no us. What we have is a living arrangement soon to be terminated. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve been very kind-”
“Kind?” he shouted. “You think I’m kind?”
“Well, yes.”
“I’ve been kind to your three old ladies, but I haven’t been kind to you.”
“What have you been?”
“Waiting, mostly. Trying to get rid of Mrs. Dugan. I can’t get ten minutes alone with you. The only time we’re alone is when we’re delivering pizzas, and then I’m busy with my nose in a map or you’re falling asleep on the seat beside me. Your lifestyle is not conducive to romance.”
“I know that, Sherlock.” Berry turned, into Ellenburg Drive. “I’ve told you before. I don’t have time for romance.”
“Wrong. You don’t
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re still running scared from your first marriage.” His finger lightly stroked her cheek. “Let it go, Berry. Give yourself a chance to fall in love again.”
“You don’t understand. I have goals.”
“You make falling in love sound like a terminal illness.”
Berry pulled into the garage and cut the ignition. “I feel guilty about this last pizza.”
“I don’t. I’m sure the people who ordered it have already eaten something else. It took us almost two hours to deliver seven pizzas in this damn rain. Let’s heat it up in the warming oven and eat it.” He opened the kitchen door for Berry and set the pizza on the counter. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a hot shower and change my clothes.”
Berry paced in the kitchen. Jake was wrong. She didn’t make herself busy just to avoid romance. Did she? Of course not. But if she did, it was for good reason. She had priorities. She had a plan. Damn that plan. She was beginning to hate it, and it was all Jake’s fault. He made her dissatisfied. He dangled all sorts of forbidden pleasures under her nose. For crying out loud, she’d had a hard enough time doing without butterscotch pudding-now she had romance added to her list.
She heard the water stop running in the upstairs bathroom. Jake was done with his shower. She popped the pizza into the warming oven and hastily scribbled a note telling Jake she’d gone back to the Pizza Place to help Miss Gaspich. Was she running away from romance? Darn right she was.
Miss Gaspich looked up when Berry walked in. “Did you get all the pizzas delivered?” she asked. “I was worried about you out there in this rain. It’s a real soaker.”
“I was fine,” Berry said, “but Jake almost drowned. He’s home drying off.”
“We didn’t have any walk-in business and no new orders so I’m just cleaning up. I’m almost done. Bill is coming over, and we’re going out for dessert and coffee. He’s such a nice man.”
“I know almost nothing about you,” Berry said. “You never talk about yourself.”
