Page 6 of Pickled
Her eyes widened. “Is he as good-looking as everyone says he is?”
“Ummm.” Yes.Better.“I guess he’s handsome. His name is Gideon. I didn’t get his last name.”
“Bailey,” she said. “His name is Gideon Bailey. He’s some big-shot hockey player. Mr. L says that he’s going to take the teamall the way, whatever that means. All the girls at the club say he’s the best-looking man in the league.”
“I haven’t been to the club lately, so I’m not up to speed with the gossip.” Along with a very fair wage and a beautiful apartment over their garage, the Lockelhursts provided me with a membership to the exclusive Azalea Bay Club.
“Well, I’ll tell all the ladies that you’ve seen him and that he’s…”
She made afill in the blanksgesture. It took me a second to decide if I should tell the truth. “He’s the best-looking man I’ve ever seen in my life.” There was no harm in noticing a good-looking neighbor, was there?
Olive flinched in my arms. Mrs. L winced and stroked Olive’s cheek with the back of her finger, lowering her voice to a whisper. “We’ll have to tell him that the club membership is included for all of the Rosewood Estate owners.”
“He’s a hockey player. I doubt he has time to go to the club.”
Shrugging, she smiled. “Fit it into a conversation the next time that you see him. Mr. L would love to play a round with him.”
Mrs. L wasn’t looking for eye candy; she was trying to arrange a round of golf for her husband. The two of them had been married for almost fifty years, and while I knew no relationship was perfect, I admired the way they looked out for each other. Every day, Mr. L left a folded note on the kitchen table for his wife, her name, Judith, surrounded by a hand-drawn heart.
Maybe one day, I’d meet a man like Mr. L.
My daughter slept like a rock and was getting boulder-like in my arms. I wished Mrs. L a good night and thanked her for watching Olive. By the time I reached the top of my carriagehouse stairs, my biceps ached like I’d mopped an entire ballroom floor by hand. I managed to punch in the door code and deliver my daughter to her bed before they completely gave out. Tucking Olive in, I kissed her cheek. “I’ll find your kitty. I promise.” I stepped onto the balcony to double-check that the cat hadn’t been at home the entire time.
One of Mr. L’s newest purchases, a Cadillac Eldorado, was parked in front of the garage. A lightbulb went off in my head. The rest of his vintage car collection was stored in a garage in the suburbs. Could Pussy have crawled into one of those cars and be trapped in some hot storage unit? My hands gripped the railing with the terrible thought.
Mr. L came out to the driveway in his plaid pajamas and leather slippers. “You’re up late.” I pried a hand from the iron railing to wave at him, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “That’s a beautiful new car.”
“She’s a beauty, but keeps me up at night. I woke up from a dead sleep worrying about the weather.” He raised his hand with the keys. “I need to put the top up. It looks like it might rain.” He got into the car, and while he fiddled around, I tried to figure out how to ask him to take me to the storage unit in the middle of the night. We were close, and he was a great boss, but that was asking a lot.
“Piper!” He jumped out of the car, holding Olive’s tabby cat like he was the baboon inThe Lion King. “She was in the back seat napping.”
“Oh my gosh.” The stairs shook as I sprinted down them two at a time.
When Mr. L handed me the cat, she cracked an eye open and yawned, digging her claws into my chest. “You little jerk.” I kissed her head.
“She must have crawled in here when I moved it after dinner.” He scratched the top of Pussy’s head. Even though I was furious, the vibration of her purrs warmed my heart. “You’re going to have a happy little girl in the morning.”
I smiled. “Thank you. Tell Mrs. L that I will be in at the regular time. She gave me the day off to look for this little…” I wanted to say fucker, but I tried to be professional in front of the Lockelhursts, especially Keith. “… cat.”
“I will. Good night, Piper.” He turned and went into the mansion. I squeezed the cat tightly as I made my way to the carriage house.
After drinking two bowls of water, Pussy made some biscuits on Olive’s comforter, then curled up to sleep at her feet. I glanced at the clock. It was well past two in the morning, and I felt like a zombie. In only four hours, I would have to get Olive ready for day care.
While I washed my face, I thought about the new neighbor, Gideon. He was kind, well-spoken, a gentleman, really. It had been fun while it lasted.
I was a single mom trying to make ends meet as a maid. Not exactly NHL girlfriend material. I dried my face and padded into Olive’s room. Stroking her hair, I realized it didn’t matter. I planted a kiss on my daughter’s freckled forehead. This was my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for any man, not even the hot new Barracuda.
3
GIDEON
My fingers drummedon the steering wheel as I drove home from practice. Two days had passed since the Rosewood Kitty Mission of 2025. I had spent that time battling the urge to stage a “casual” drive-by of Piper’s place just to see if the cat came back. My self-imposed “no distractions” rule for the season had just skated itself onto thin ice.
When it came to women, my NHL career was both a blessing and a curse. I never knew whether girls were interested in me or all of the “stuff” that came with me. I was a guy whose ideal Saturday involved a well-worn armchair, a steaming mug of tea, and guessing the murderer in the book before the characters did. I was convinced that if I worked a blue-collar job, most of the women in the NHL bubble wouldn’t give me a second glance.
Piper didn’t ask what I did for a living, and I extended that courtesy to her. For once, it was nice to have a level of anonymity. Now, in the light of day, I regretted that decision. I wished I knew more about her. What madehertick? Other than a very inappropriately named cat. Was she married? Her ring finger was conspicuously bare, but it was late at night; aring could be sitting next to her bathroom sink. But what kind of husband would let his gorgeous wife traipse through the neighborhood alone at midnight?
Did she come from money? Was she self-made? What did she like to do in her spare time? What kind of books did she like to read?
