I’m taking lunch orders on this Tuesday and manning the cash register in my new demure “deli wardrobe” consisting of loose fit khakis and a blue oxford shirt which is so big it feels like I’m swimming in it. Oh, and the girls insist I leave the shirttail out to cover my ass. If I don’t want guys staring at that or my boobs, this is the perfect outfit, because they can see neither. I may as well be wearing that burlap sack.

Rory also gave me a few of her own unflattering things to help get me through the week, since she’s five-foot-four and the same size. Madison and Tish both tower over me at five-ten and five-eight respectively, so one of their skirts would have gone down to my ankles, even with my now departed platform heels.

I note the group of hard hats heading toward the door and I’m very curious to see the reaction. Since construction workers, as you no doubt have already discovered, are not shy when it comes to sharing their opinions about a woman’s appearance.

The little bell above the door rings as the group enters, and it’s hard to keep my jaw from dropping as my not-so-secret admirer removes his hard hat. He’s clean-shaven with a short haircut and offers a shy smile as he heads to the counter. While he’s covered in a good deal of construction dust, the tee shirt appears new, and his jeans have a crease in them as it’s obvious he just bought them. My sister was right, he cleans up good and is actually cute. And yes, in the past, I would have jumped on a tight little ass like this.

But that was then and this is now.

He steps to the counter, hard hat under his arm, a touch of fear in his blue eyes as he clears his throat. “Good afternoon, Miss Scaramucci.” His voice cracks a bit. “Might you be so kind as to make me a roast beef sandwich on a hard roll with lettuce and tomato? And a little mayo? Please, no mustard.”

I glance over his shoulder at Vito, who gives me a wink, then grab my sister’s arm and pull her to the register. “Sure, my sister Connie will take care of you. I’m going on my break.” She smiles at him as they lock eyes.

Guess mine is not the only makeover in town.

***

AT THREE-THIRTY THE place is empty so I’m cleaning up one of the slicers, my back to the door. I hear the bell and figure my sister will wait on the customer when I hear it.

“Hi Connie, is A.J. here?”

I turn around and see Freddy, the burly thirtysomething guy who delivers our chesses. Slowly his jaw drops. “Hi, Freddy. How you doin’ today?”

His eyes run up and down the length of my body. “I, uh, didn’t realize that was you. What’s with the outfit?”

“Waddaya mean?”

He gestures at my shirt. “You’re wearing a man’s shirt and... you’re always in jeans.”

“It’s not a man’s shirt. It’s an oxford. Very comfortable. And I do own more than one pair of pants.”

“Yeah, but...”

“What? You gotta problem with my clothes?”

He exhales and shakes his head. “Geez, A.J., seeing you is the highlight of my week.”

“Well, what a nice compliment. I enjoy seeing you as well.”

“That’s, well... not exactly... what I mean...”

“For God’s sake, Freddy, what’s the problem?”

“You always look... well... hot.”

This is gonna be fun. “Yeah, you always tell me that.” I fold my arms and move toward the counter. “So, I look like crap today?”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, from what you just said, you implied I always look hot and now I’m not.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So what did you mean? Have I suddenly gotten too old?”

He gets a bit pale and begins to sweat. “It’s like... what you’re wearing today—”

“Put the shovel down, Freddy, I think you’ve dug a deep enough hole.”

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. I just like seeing you in, you know...”

“Well, those days are gone. You’ll have to live with the memory.”

He mops his brow with the back of his hand. “If that’s how it’s gonna be. But damn, A.J., what a waste.”

***

I’M STRAIGHTENING UP the place at four-thirty since we’re getting ready to close at five. It’s been a busy day but I must say I’m amazed at the total lack of cheap comments thrown my way by our usual blue collar clientele. While I’m still not used to such loose fitting clothes, I must admit that respect seems to come when wearing one size too big. While I will never be considered demure, apparently my wardrobe must now convey that notion.

Of course it’s funny as hell that I’m no longer the highlight of Freddy’s cheese route. Then again, we had an actual conversation for the first time... ever. About stuff other than cheese, to boot.

The bell above the door chimes as a man in a business suit enters the place carrying long, rolled-up papers. He’s deep in conversation on his cell phone as he heads to the counter.

And he is, as my admirer would say, smokin’ hot. Tall, slender, gorgeous dark suit hangin’ off him like a model. Light brown hair and hazel eyes behind gold wire-rimmed glasses. Cuff links and what looks like a Rolex watch. (Though in New York, it could be a Times Square fifty dollar knockoff.) He’s probably in his mid-thirties.

And the total opposite of guys I’ve dated.

He looks at his watch. “Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow and we can discuss this further, but I don’t see any major problems with the project. Thanks, Bye.” He puts his cell phone in his pocket, looks up, and notices me for the first time. He eyes widen a bit. “Well... hello.”

“Hello, yourself. Welcome to Scaramucci’s. What can I get you?”

He smiles and locks eyes with me for a moment. Oh my gawd, my eyes really are up here! Who knew? “Uh... yeah.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought.”

“I’m assuming you came in here to get something to eat.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting... anyway, I’m in desperate need of a sugar fix and heard you’ve got great Italian pastries here.”

“We do. Our cannolis win the local bake-off every year. Good place to start.”

“Great. I’ll have one. And some coffee. What varieties do you have?”

“We got hot. That’s it.”

He laughs a bit. “That’ll be fine. Lots of cream and sugar, please.” He cocks his head at the tables. “Mind if I do a little work over here?”

“Sure. Have a seat and I’ll bring everything over.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

Damn. I’ve been called Miss for the second time today!

Am I going to tell him we’re getting ready to close? Hell, no.

“Name’s A.J., by the way.”

“I’m Josh. Pleasure to meet you.”

Now normally I’d head to the back room to spruce things up after a long day in the deli and spray on some perfume to cover up my eau de salami. But I resist, since for some odd reason my baggy outfit seems to be working. Who knew such sexless clothes could attract a better class of man?

If it aint broke, don’t fix it.

By the time I bring a cannoli and coffee over to his table, he’s got the papers spread out, which I recognize as blueprints. “Here you go.” He slides the papers a bit to make room as I look over his shoulder. “I’m gonna take a wild stab and guess you’re either an architect or an interior designer.”

“Architect. Working on some possible designs for the place across the street. You probably know it’s being remodeled.”

“Yeah, they started gutting the place yesterday. So I assume you can tell me what’s going in there.”

“No idea what’s going in on the first floor. I’m working on the second. Turning it into an apartment.”

“Really?”

“Apparently whoever bought the place plans on living above whatever business is going in there. But I have no idea what that is.”

“Interesting. I actually live upstairs from this place, so I understand why someone would want to do that. Saves money and makes for a really short commute.”

“I’ll bet. Small world.” He takes a bite of the cannoli and closes his eyes as he savors it. “Oh. My. God. That is fantastic.”

“Thank you. We make ‘em fresh to order. Lots of places make them ahead of time but the shells can get soggy real quick if you do that. You shouldn’t fill the shells until you’re ready to eat them. I just made that one for you.”

“Well, that’s fabulous. Love the little almond slivers and the shell dipped in chocolate.”

“So, I guess we’re gonna see you around here for a while.”

“You are. And I guess I found a good place to eat.” He shoots me a smile that sends electricity through my body.

What the hell. I pull up a chair and sit next to him, then rest my head on my palms and look at the drawings. I catch a hint of his earthy cologne. “So, how exactly do you go about designing an apartment where none has been there before? I mean, if you’re not too busy to explain this.”

“Not at all.” He pulls out a mechanical pencil and points at the drawing. “Well, you need to know where the load bearing walls are— you’re not really interested in this boring stuff, are you?”

I look up and smile. “Depends on if you’re interested in telling me.”

“I am.”

“Then I’m interested in learning something new. I’ve been wanting to learn about load bearing walls for years.”

***

A HALF HOUR LATER MY sister Connie comes out from the back room. “Hey, A.J., you want me to lock up—” She notices I’m sitting next to the guy. “Oh, I didn’t know we still had a customer.”

Josh looks at his watch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you close at five.”

I wave my hand like I’m shooing a fly. “No big deal. Like I said, I’ve got a short commute.” He laughs, I make a wide-eyed contact with my sister that tells her to get the hell out.

“Well, I’m going home,” says Connie.

“I’ll lock up.”

She winks at me and heads for the door. I turn and see Josh starting to roll up the papers. I gently place my hand on his wrist. “Oh, you don’t have to leave.”

“Don’t you have to close?”

“I own the place, I can do whatever I want. It’s the family business. Stay as long as you like. So, you want more coffee?”

“Really, I don’t want to impose and keep you here late.”

I stand up. “Not a problem and I could use a cup myself. I’ll put on a fresh pot.”

***

TWO HOURS LATER HE leans back and rubs his stomach. “That was delicious. Probably the best meatball sandwich I’ve ever had. Terrific sauce.”

“Thank you. We make everything from scratch. Old family recipe.”

He starts to laugh. “It just occurred to me, I ate dinner backwards. Started with dessert and ended with the main course.”

“Hey, no rules in an Italian place.”

He looks at his watch. “Wow, it’s after seven. Can’t believe I’ve been here two and a half hours.”

“Time flies when the conversation’s good.”

He nods and smiles. “No kidding. But I really have to get going. Need to prepare for an early meeting tomorrow.” He starts to roll up the blueprints. “A.J., I really enjoyed getting to know you.”

“Same here.”

He pulls out a wad of bills from his pocket. “How much do I owe—”

I put up my hand. “Don’t insult me. Please, consider it a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not fair. I know how tough the food business is and how hard you work. I waited tables in college. Please.”

“Not up for discussion. I just hope you’ll come back.”

“Absolutely. Well, listen, since you just bought me dinner, least I can do is return the favor. I know we just met and I’m sure a woman like you has someone, but... oh, what the hell. You free Saturday night?”

“I didn’t have anything planned. And I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He gets up. “Great, what time’s convenient for you? Are you open on weekends?”

“Just till three on Saturday but I’m off this week. I rotate weekends with my siblings. We’re closed on Sunday.”

“Okay, how about I pick you up at seven?”

“Great. Entrance to my apartment is around the side of the building.” I walk him toward the door.

“I know a great seafood place, if that’s okay.”

“Long as it’s not sushi. You may as well take me to a bait shop.”

He laughs a bit. “Yeah, I don’t get the obsession with raw fish either. The place I like is famous for lobster.” He stops and looks at the counter. “Hey, even though dinner was free I gotta leave a tip.” He peels a twenty from his wad of bills and drops it in the tip jar. “Tell the waitress she was exceptional.”

I can’t help but laugh. “She appreciates tips that are two hundred percent of the bill.” I open the door for him. “See you then, Josh. Good night.”

“Night, A.J.”

And once again, he only looks at my eyes.

I lock the door and watch as he walks to his car, gets in and drives off. As I flip off the lights I can’t help but think that I’ve left my old life in the rear view mirror. And about something he said.

I’m sure a woman like you has someone.

A woman like me?

I need a translator.

***

I OPEN THE DOOR TO my apartment and instead of waiting for my usual sneak attack I see Gypsy sitting on the kitchen counter.

Not looking happy.

Oh, shit. I’m late.

And for my punishment, she’s knocked all the mail that was neatly stacked up on the counter to the floor.

“Fine, kitty, I know I shoulda been here two hours ago. And obviously you got bored.” I crouch down to pick up the mail as she meows at me. “Hey, don’t give me any grief, I met a nice guy. He seems to have cat values.”