Page 79 of Offside and Off-Limits
Not even all those “muscles upon muscles.”
“We are lucky, especially as the team is doing what they can to help save the town,” I reply.
“I guess you'll be at the inaugural bash on Saturday, since you work for the team,” she says. “I wish I could go, but there's not a lot of call for a barista on the team. Hey, unless thereisa call for a barista on the team?” She looks at me hopefully.
“I'll let you know if things change and a barista gets added to the team list,” I reply with a laugh.
Her eyes dance. “That would be the best jobever.”
She makes the coffee, and with the paper bag containing the pumpkin cinnamon roll dangling from my fingers and with cups in hand, I'm hoping to sidle past the gossipmongers and escape their interrogation.
But I didn't factor in the extreme commitment Mary-Ellen McCluskey has to her craft, even going to the point where she stands up and blocks the doorway so that I can’t make my escape.
“Come, Clara. Sit.” Her tone is uncompromising, and so I do as she says, despite every bone in my body screaming at me toabort! abort! abort!
“I've only got a minute,” I warn as I lower myself onto the seat. “I need to get this coffee to my boss.”
“We’ll make it snappy, won't we, Suzette?” she says.
“Always,” Suzette replies.
Mary-Ellen clasps her hands, her elbows resting on the table as she pins me with her gaze. “You know, I've been meaning to ask you about that handsome young man who's been spending so much time at your house lately.”
I could play dumb, but the fact of the matter is Mary-Ellen McCluskey lives right across the street from me. The chances she would have seen Cade’s black BMW SUV are pretty high.
“Cade's helping Hannah with piano,” I say, which is, of course, strictly speaking, true. It’s just not the whole picture.
She and Suzette share a look.
“Piano lessons, you say?” Mary-Ellen nods sagely, as if this explains everything. “And does he always bring dinner to these piano lessons? Because Mildred Henderson saw him carrying a casserole dish to your front door Tuesday evening, and frankly, dear, I’ve never known piano teachers to provide dinner. Have you, Suzette?”
Suzette shakes her head. “No, Mary-Ellen. I’ve not.”
“Cade’s very thorough in his teaching methods, and he insisted on feeding everyone to help keep Hannah’s energy up,”I reply with the world’s weakest argument, my cheeks beginning to heat.
Mary-Ellen's eyes sparkle with glee. “Oh, I'm sure he is very thorough. Veryhands-on, I imagine.”
Oh, the innuendo. Mrs. McCluskey could give Cade explaining the finer details of hockey a run for his money.
“Especially when it comes to proper finger placement,” Suzette adds. “On the piano keys, of course.”
“Of course,” Mary-Ellen agrees, not taking her eyes from me.
My cheeks are beginning to feel as though it’s been dunked in hot sauce.
I push myself up from my seat, saying, “Well, it’s been lovely seeing you both, but I?—”
“And the way that strapping young man looks at you, dear? Mercy, mercy me,” Mary-Ellen continues, her hand over her heart. “I was just telling Suzette here that when I saw him at the Drench for Defense, I swear I saw actual love hearts floating above his head when he looked at you, like a character on one of those cartoons Mabel used to watch.”
“Mrs. McCluskey—” I begin, but I’m cut off.
“Not that we’re judging you, mind. A woman needs companionship. Isn’t that right, Suzette?”
“Especially a woman who's been through what you have with that awful Dwayne,” Suzette agrees.
“Speaking of which, I’m sure I saw him at your place at the weekend. Is everything all right on that front, dear?” Mary-Ellen asks.
I need to put a stop to this, and I need to do it now.
