Page 21
Story: A Midsummer Night's Ghost
“No.”
That made me laugh. Jake was always honest.
“Why not?”
“Because by the end of the month this marriage will be over and I’ll have wasted a night making small talk with some dude I’m never going to see again.”
“She really likes him though.”
“You’ve said that about the last three guys she dated.” Jake pressed a button and a loud wailing sound ripped through the room.
I jumped. “Geez Louise, that’s loud.”
“That’s the point.” He tapped the screen and the noise stopped.
“That’s loud enough to wake the dead,” Grandma Burke said, shuffling into the kitchen. “Or give me a heart attack.”
“Waking us up is the point. Heart attack is not.” Jake kept fiddling. “I’ll turn the volume down slightly.”
I wasn’t sure that was a good idea given that Grandma Burke had hearing loss but I didn’t want to point that out in front of her and offend her.
“Why are you two kids home tonight anyway?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be out having fun? Going to a ballgame or a dance club now that you’ve had dance lessons?”
“We had three dance lessons,” Jake said. “And I sucked at it. I almost broke Bailey’s ankle twice.”
“It’s true,” I told her. “We’re not going out because we wanted to get this system installed so you have it if you need it.”
“This is for me?” Grandma stood in front of the cabinets and eyed them, mystified. “Why? And where is my tea?”
I stood up. “Because of that. You’re in a strange house surrounded by boxes you could trip on and you don’t know where anything is. Jake and I both have to work tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” she pointed out.
“It’s a busy day for remodeling design appointments and for death. What can I say?” I started rummaging around in our cabinets trying to find the tea. We (okay, me) had just shoved food into them in an attempt to get some boxes emptied and out of our walking path. Now I was staring at a cacophony of dried goods that might tumble down like an avalanche at any given moment. Add that to the to-do list.
“Your grandfather never worked on Saturday.”
Lucky him. “He also had a secretary and martini lunches. Times have unfortunately changed.”
“I can’t imagine you trying to work after having a lunchtime martini.” Jake grinned as he came over and kissed the back of my head, reached around me, and pulled down the tea I was looking for. “You can’t even have a glass of wine without either dancing on a table or sobbing.”
I frowned at him. Just because all of that was true, didn’t mean I wanted it pointed out. But Jake looked so…capable. He was wearing sweatpants and an Ohio State T-shirt, socks on his feet, making this house a home for us.
Good grief, I was in love. It struck me at the oddest moments.
I stared at him too long. He frowned back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just think you’re cute.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Is this a diversionary tactic so I won’t ask you why you were at Danny O’s last night with Alyssa?”
I almost dropped the box of tea bags. “Um, no, of course not. How did you know that?”
“It’s a cop bar.”
“Isn’t every bar a cop bar?” Grandma asked, taking the chair I’d vacated at the kitchen table.
“Probably,” I told her.
That made me laugh. Jake was always honest.
“Why not?”
“Because by the end of the month this marriage will be over and I’ll have wasted a night making small talk with some dude I’m never going to see again.”
“She really likes him though.”
“You’ve said that about the last three guys she dated.” Jake pressed a button and a loud wailing sound ripped through the room.
I jumped. “Geez Louise, that’s loud.”
“That’s the point.” He tapped the screen and the noise stopped.
“That’s loud enough to wake the dead,” Grandma Burke said, shuffling into the kitchen. “Or give me a heart attack.”
“Waking us up is the point. Heart attack is not.” Jake kept fiddling. “I’ll turn the volume down slightly.”
I wasn’t sure that was a good idea given that Grandma Burke had hearing loss but I didn’t want to point that out in front of her and offend her.
“Why are you two kids home tonight anyway?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be out having fun? Going to a ballgame or a dance club now that you’ve had dance lessons?”
“We had three dance lessons,” Jake said. “And I sucked at it. I almost broke Bailey’s ankle twice.”
“It’s true,” I told her. “We’re not going out because we wanted to get this system installed so you have it if you need it.”
“This is for me?” Grandma stood in front of the cabinets and eyed them, mystified. “Why? And where is my tea?”
I stood up. “Because of that. You’re in a strange house surrounded by boxes you could trip on and you don’t know where anything is. Jake and I both have to work tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” she pointed out.
“It’s a busy day for remodeling design appointments and for death. What can I say?” I started rummaging around in our cabinets trying to find the tea. We (okay, me) had just shoved food into them in an attempt to get some boxes emptied and out of our walking path. Now I was staring at a cacophony of dried goods that might tumble down like an avalanche at any given moment. Add that to the to-do list.
“Your grandfather never worked on Saturday.”
Lucky him. “He also had a secretary and martini lunches. Times have unfortunately changed.”
“I can’t imagine you trying to work after having a lunchtime martini.” Jake grinned as he came over and kissed the back of my head, reached around me, and pulled down the tea I was looking for. “You can’t even have a glass of wine without either dancing on a table or sobbing.”
I frowned at him. Just because all of that was true, didn’t mean I wanted it pointed out. But Jake looked so…capable. He was wearing sweatpants and an Ohio State T-shirt, socks on his feet, making this house a home for us.
Good grief, I was in love. It struck me at the oddest moments.
I stared at him too long. He frowned back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just think you’re cute.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Is this a diversionary tactic so I won’t ask you why you were at Danny O’s last night with Alyssa?”
I almost dropped the box of tea bags. “Um, no, of course not. How did you know that?”
“It’s a cop bar.”
“Isn’t every bar a cop bar?” Grandma asked, taking the chair I’d vacated at the kitchen table.
“Probably,” I told her.
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