CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

The entire drive to the old town section of Pasadena, with its high-end shops and world-class restaurants, Trace had no idea where they were truly going. He just acted like he knew so Kiki didn’t think he was a complete dork. Once they hit Colorado Boulevard and he spied an upper-end café with outdoor seating, he determined that it would be their destination. He’d never been there in his life but he hoped it would be good; he just wanted to be the man with the plan.

So he parked the truck in one of the four-story parking structures that was just off the main drag, politely opening Kiki’s door for her and escorting her out of the structure. The weather was still very warm and dry, the sun hot if you weren’t in the shade, but, all in all, it was glorious. He left his jacket in the truck as they made their way down the block.

It was mostly small talk between them, about past people they knew or her brother’s girl-chasing ways in high school. He was becoming better acquainted with her truly funny sense of humor and liking it a great deal. The woman had a hell of a sparkly personality, animated and fun, which he found entrancing. By the time they reached the café and were seated, he considered himself on the border of being officially smitten. He’d never been smitten in his life.

“So,” Kiki ventured after the waitress took their drink order, “what kind of name is Trace? Are you named after someone?”

He took his sunglasses off and laid them on the table. “It’s short for Tracy,” he said. “It’s my mother’s maiden name, but I absolutely hated it because in kindergarten there was a girl whose name was Tracy, also. Once I figured out it was a girl’s name, too, I insisted on being called Trace.”

Kiki grinned. “More manly.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you still hate it?”

He shrugged. “My name’s Trace. That’s just what it is.”

“But what if I want to call you Tracy?”

“Then you’re the only one I’ll let call me that.”

She giggled. “I’d never emasculate you like that. If you hate it, I hate it.”

He laughed softly and sipped his water. “So what about Kiki? That’s not your real name, is it?”

She settled back in her seat, grinning. She had an enormous dimple in her right cheek that Trace found very sexy.

“No,” she said. “I got it from Jim. He was two when I was born and couldn’t pronounce Katharine. It came out something like ‘Kaki’, which somehow became Kiki. And if that’s not enough, my dad and my sister only call me ‘Keeks’. Even my nickname has a nickname.”

“What does your mother call you?”

“It depends on if she’s mad at me or not. Usually it’s Kiki, but if she’s pissed, it’s Katharine.”

“Funny how those things work out.”

She nodded, glancing up at the waitress as the woman brought an iced tea for Trace and a diet cola for her. The woman proceeded to take their food orders and wandered away. Kiki took a long drink of her cola.

“You said you worked for the government in Washington,” she said. “What did you do?”

Trace had a standard answer for this kind of question, the same answer he’d used for twenty-five years. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. It was the safe answer.

“I worked for the CIA,” he said. “Analyst stuff.”

“Did you like it?”

“I did.”

Kiki regarded him a moment. “So what made you leave it?” she asked. “You were on the east coast for a lot of years. Surely you had a life back there, friends and stuff. What made you come back to California?”

He stirred sugar into his iced tea. “Oh, a lot of things, I guess,” he said. “First of all, we don’t have weather like this in D.C. in October. I missed the good weather.”

She smiled faintly, sensing that it was something of an evasive answer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question. I didn’t mean to sound nosy.”

He waved her off. “It wasn’t a personal question at all,” he said. “It’s just a complicated answer. I guess the simplest explanation is that I was married for eighteen years but we divorced five years ago and my son is grown up, living in Chicago. So, not really having any family left in D.C., I came home a year ago to help my dad with the family business.”

“My dad told me that your brothers work for the business, too.”

“They do.”

“As much as I love my brother and sister, I’m not sure I could work with them. I think we’d all kill each other in the end.”

He gave her a half-grin. “They don’t step on my toes and I don’t step on theirs.”

“It must be different from what you were doing all those years with the CIA. It’s like starting a new career all over again.”

He shrugged. “I was working with my dad back in high school, so it’s not completely new,” he replied. “I’m the Vice President of Construction, Jesse is the V.P. of Operations, and Shaun is the CFO. It actually works out really well.”

“Is your dad getting close to retiring?”

He nodded. “Probably in the next year or so, so he’s leaving the business to us.” He took a long drink of his iced tea. “And what about you? Did you work with your husband or have your own outside thing?”

She shook her head. “I’ve spent the past nineteen years raising kids and doing volunteer work,” she replied. “I was a doctor’s wife so I didn’t have to work. Mark preferred that I didn’t. He liked me to be the typical Orange County housewife, shuttling the girls around to soccer and dance, or volunteering with local organizations. I did a heck of a lot of volunteering, mostly with the girls’ school or with the children’s hospital charity. But my favorite thing was working with the California Symphony group out of Orange County. I did all of their fundraising for the arts, which benefitted the local schools. I loved that.”

“You don’t do it anymore?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged, her bubbly personality dimming somewhat. “When Mark died, it’s like I just kind of lost my drive. I tried to continue, but I was working with people who knew Mark and knew me, and every time I got together with them, it was like going to Mark’s funeral again because all of those people had been there. I guess it sounds dumb, but I just couldn’t look at their faces anymore. I wanted to come home, so here I am.”

Trace could see that discussing her deceased husband was a sore subject, making a mental note to veer away from that line of conversation in the future.

“Well, lucky for us you came back,” he said quietly, his hazel eyes glimmering warmly at her. “Your mom and dad must be happy about it.”

Kiki nodded, forcing aside thoughts of Mark Conrad and her life that was. “Thrilled,” she said. “But it’s strange, you know? With the girls no longer living with me, and now I’m in a new house and all, I feel like I’m embarking on a new life. I’ve got a million family and friends all around me, but I just feel so alone moving forward. Kind of an exaggerated empty-nest syndrome.”

He wasn’t grinning anymore. His gaze was steading on her, appraising even. “You’re not alone,” he said quietly. “I felt the same way when I divorced and Alex went off to school. I swear I’d never felt more alone, like I had nothing to look forward to in life. But it’s just not true; you’ve got that big ol’ house and we’ll get it all fixed up so you can open that wedding venue.”

Her smile was back. “I haven’t given you the job, yet.”

He grinned in return. “True enough. But even if you don’t award us the bid, I’ll still help you if you need it.”

It was a very sweet declaration and Kiki sensed something more than normal friendliness. She was thrilled as well as terrified, but then she started thinking that she was just reading too much into it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part. More than that, she was afraid to tell him that even with the new bid, she wouldn’t be able to afford it. She knew that the moment she had looked at it. She was sure the minute she told him, he would get into his truck and never look back. Selfishly, she just wanted to enjoy the man’s company for a few more minutes before chasing him away. She lifted her glass to him as if to toast him.

“What are old friends for, eh?”

He clanked his iced tea glass against hers. “To renewing old friendships. And I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention to you back in high school.”

She spent the next hour demanding to know what he meant by that. He spent the next hour avoiding the question.

 



 

He didn’t want to call her.

That wasn’t entirely true. He really did want to call her only he didn’t want her to think he was harassing her about the job bid, or worse, stalking her somehow. He’d already shown up once unannounced at her house. That was acceptable. But to do it twice might seem weird. So his only choice was to call her. He never got the chance.

“Hey, son,” Trace’s dad stuck his head in his office. “I just got a call from Mrs. Conrad. She says she’s going to put off doing anything to that house right now.”

Trace looked at his father, shocked. "That place needs it badly,” he said. “Did she say why?”

“No.” His father shook his head. “I told her we’d hold the price for ninety days, though. Didn’t you go out and see her yesterday?”

Trace stood up from behind his desk. “I did,” he said. “In fact, I spent a couple of hours out there. She seemed on board with the new bid.”

Rick Rocklin leaned against the doorjamb to his son’s office. A handsome man in his seventies, he had the weather-worn skin and rough hands of a man who’d spent the majority of his life doing manual labor. He was also extremely sharp and business-savvy. He scratched his chin as he thought on his reply.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice. “I spoke with her dad when I went out to do the original estimate. He said that after Mrs. Conrad’s husband died, they found out all sorts of things about the man, financial stuff if you know what I mean. I guess he left his wife and girls without much financial support, which is why I really tried to pare down the bid. I think you probably noticed how low it was.”

Trace was feeling a good deal of pity along with his surprise. “I thought you’d lost your mind,” he admitted. “Then I got a hold of it and shaved it down even more. Now…well, now, it makes sense why you did what you did and why she looked kind of sick when I gave her the second bid. You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think she had no idea what she was getting in to with that house and now that she’s in too deep, she’s stuck.”

Rick wriggled his eyebrows and pushed himself off the doorjamb. “Probably,” he sighed sadly as he turned away. “But we don’t work for free. It’s too bad she’s gotten herself into such a mess.”

Trace watched his dad walk down the corridor of their fifteen thousand square foot office space, heading for his office. He was lost in thought, mulling over Kiki Conrad and her situation. Then he picked up his keys, got into his truck, and headed out for Pasadena.

 



 

Trace pulled up where he normally did in front of Kiki’s house. It still looked the same, the big, old, haunted house that the kids in the neighborhood were afraid of. He climbed out of the truck as fast as he had turned it off, not even knowing what he was going to say to Kiki when he saw her. There were so many thoughts rolling through his head that it was difficult to isolate just one. But he knew one thing for certain; it had nothing to do with losing the bid. It had nothing to do with the money. It had everything to do with her.

He opened the old wrought iron gate, listening to it creak. He was sure she could hear it, too, wherever she was, tipping her off that someone was approaching. Quietly, he made his way towards the house with the massive fountain a blockade between him and the front door. The fountain that was so precious to her.

As he approached the fountain, he could hear movement off to his right. Looking over, he could see Kiki buried up to her neck in old bushes and weeds. She was furiously pulling them out, tossing the dead old brush into great big piles. As he looked around, he could see that she had done quite a bit in the yard since yesterday. Her back was to him and he watched her for a few moments, thinking of the greeting he would deliver, when he caught movement at his feet. Looking down, he saw two big black doggy eyes gazing up at him.

“Hi, Bullfrog,” he said, crouching down to pet the dog’s head. “How long has your mom been at this?”

He said it loud enough for her to hear him. Catching wind of his voice, Kiki came to an unsteady halt and turned around with some shock. Trace smiled faintly when their eyes met.

“Hi,” he said, trying to sound utterly casual. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by. Are you planning on ripping out this entire yard today?”

She wiped her gloved hand across her sweaty forehead, looking around at the mess she had created. “Probably not,” she said. “It’s a damn big yard. It’s going to take me a while.”

He gave the dog a final pat and stood up. “It’s almost noon,” he said. “I came to see if my lunch buddy wanted to grab some lunch.”

She held his gaze a moment, perhaps with a great deal of regret, before lowering it and climbing her way out of the bushes. Her movements were slow and lethargic, like a kid facing something he didn’t want to do. Once free of the bramble, she pulled her gloves off, slowly and pensively. She seemed unable to meet his gaze.

“I called your office earlier and spoke with your dad,” she said softly, finally looking up at him. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

She sighed heavily and lowered her gaze again. “Well…,” she started hesitantly. “The house… it seems that I just can’t do anything to it right now. You worked so hard on the bid and I appreciate it so much, but it’s still way more than I can afford.”

“So why did you have to call my dad and tell him? Why couldn’t you tell me to my face?”

Her head snapped up to him. “Because… because I felt so bad about it. You worked so hard. I admit it - I was a coward to talk to your dad. It was just easier than disappointing you.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m just disappointed that you didn’t think you could tell me personally. I thought we had a better relationship than that.”

She shook her head and backed away from him, pulling off the hat and setting it down. When she looked at him with her flushed cheeks and sweetly mussed hair, there was a great deal of longing in her expression.

“Trace,” she said softly. “You’ve been incredibly sweet and generous since we met, but don’t think that you’ve got to stroke me anymore. I promise, I’ll give you the job as soon as I can afford it so you don’t have to wine and dine me anymore.”

He just looked at her. Then, his eyebrows lifted. “Is that what you think?” he asked, incredulous. “That I took you out to lunch to kiss up to you so I’d get the job?”

She shrugged lamely before finally nodding her head. “It’s okay; I didn’t mind. It was fun to catch up with you.”

His jaw dropped. Then it closed again and he put his hands on his hips, facing her rather angrily. “Let me tell you something,” he said. “I don’t ‘wine and dine’ people to get a job. I never have and I never will. I took you out to lunch because I wanted to, plain and simple, and it has nothing to do with this goddamn job. Don’t you get it? You’ve been all I can think about since the day we met. It’s you… not the house, not the job. It’s you.”

Now it was her turn to stare at him with her mouth open. “What?” she stammered.

He could see how off guard she was and his manner softened. “I know it’s crazy,” he said softly. “I can’t even explain it. All I know is that the past two days of knowing you are like nothing I’ve ever experienced. You have such life in you, Katharine. I can just feel it in everything about you and that’s a really attractive quality. Don’t you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

She closed her mouth but she took another step back from him, her eyes wide with surprise. “My… my name is Kiki.”

“Kiki is a name for a kid and you’re definitely not a kid. Katharine is a name for an incredibly beautiful woman, which you are.”

“I… I don’t even know what to say.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not looking for an answer. But I have to be honest and tell you that I was kind of hoping we didn’t get the job because it’ll be a lot easier to date you if I’m not working for you. That would just make it awkward.”

He didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger. “Date me?”

“I’d like to.”

“Date me?”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

She laughed, a reflexive reaction. Then, she burst into tears. Before Trace could say anything more, she ran into the house and slammed the door, leaving Trace and Stanley standing where she had left them.

Trace was looking at the closed door, hands still on his hips, wondering if he had just said something terribly wrong. He couldn’t explain her reaction any other way and with that realization, he began to feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it had been too fast, too soon. He had never had a good sense of timing, anyway, or much tact. He was more of a straight-to-the-point person. God, he felt awful. Then he looked down at the dog, sitting patiently next to him.

He had an idea.

 



 

Kiki was still sobbing, sitting in her broken-down kitchen and trying to get a hold of herself. Trace’s words had stunned her so much that she couldn’t react any other way. He was perfect and wonderful, and she realized she wanted nothing more than to explore some manner of relationship with him. The past two days, getting to know him, having him around, had been heavenly. She could get used to it and the thought scared her to death. The last man she had around the house had died, leaving her to pick up the pieces. She wasn’t sure she was ready to open herself up like that again.

As she sat there and wept, the back door to the utility porch creaked open. Startled, she froze, waiting for a person, maybe a burglar, to come strolling in, but instead, Stanley came trotting into the house. As he drew close, she saw something tied around his neck.

Climbing off the stool, she could see that a piece of paper was tied to his collar. Sniffling, curious, she untied the paper and unfolded it. It was an 8 ½ by 11 sheet of paper torn off from a yellow writing pad with a note of neat handwriting written in blue pen.

 

Dear Mom –

I’ve been asked by Mr. Rocklin to broker a peace treaty between you and him. Just so you know, he likes you a lot and he didn’t mean to make you cry. He just wanted to tell you his thoughts. This is just my opinion, but maybe you should go out with him. I think he’s a good guy and would be very nice to you. If you want to talk to him, he’s outside on the porch. He says he’s not going anywhere.

Love,

Bullfrog (Stanley)

P.S. I’m not doing this for free. If I can get you to come outside, he has to buy me Milkbone for a whole year.

P.S.S. I really like Milkbone.

 

Kiki read the note twice, giggling her way through it. It was clever and sweet, and her heart softened. But Trace didn’t know the half of her situation and she was afraid to tell him; afraid it would change his opinion about her. Two days ago, she was pretty much alone in her new life, her new project, but forty-eight hours had seen a drastic change in the form of Trace Rocklin.

Sure, when she’d first seen him in her yard, she had made a mental joke about locking the gate so he couldn’t escape. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine he would respond or, better yet, come on to her. She still couldn’t believe it. Maybe that was her problem.

Torn, confused, and a little apprehensive, she looked around for a piece of paper but couldn’t find one, so she ripped out a page of the pocket calendar in her purse and found a pen clipped in her wallet. Giving a lot of thought to the message she would respond with, she began to write.

 



Trace was sitting on the porch of the old house in an old folding chair that had probably been left by the previous occupants, watching the cars in the intersection beyond, wondering how Kiki had responded to his note. It had been rather clever of him, he thought. He wasn’t even concerned with the fact that he had a lot of work waiting for him back at the office or the fact that his dad was probably beginning to wonder where he was. He was only thinking about Kiki and at least getting her to talk to him again. He was becoming increasingly concerned that he had frightened her off. As the minutes ticked by and the afternoon deepened, he was forced to admit that was a real possibility.

At nearly two in the afternoon, the enormous front door creaked open. Jolted with the sound and the thought of the only person who could have opened that door, he managed to keep his cool and continue staring out into the yard and street beyond. He didn’t even turn to look to see if Kiki was standing there. He figured that if she wanted to talk to him, she would come out and make the first move. So he waited.

Seconds passed but nothing happened. Then something brushed up against his leg and he looked down to see the dog milling around by his feet. The first thing he noticed was a small, white piece of paper tied to the dog’s collar. He reached down and plucked it out, unrolling the small, white note.

 

Dear Mr. Rocklin;

My mom says to tell you that she’s sorry she ran away like a big baby. She just wasn’t expecting what you said and it surprised her. My mom has been through a lot over the past year so she tends to get emotional about things. But she wants you to know that she’s very flattered and she likes you, too.

Regards,

Stanley

P.S. I really hate being called Bullfrog. Really.

 

Trace just grinned. He read the note about a half dozen times before pulling a pen out of his pocket, turning the note over, and writing on the flip side. Five minutes later, the front door creaked open and Stanley got shoved in. The door silently closed behind him.

The dog wandered upstairs without being seen and fell asleep on Kiki’s bed. She found the dog around sundown.