Baby Kisses (8 page)

Tooty felt her mind drifting and put the diary back in its box. Snuggling up to Harris, she fell asleep, dreaming of Annabelle and Eli.

Little hands grasped her shoulder and pushed it back and forth. "Mommy, wake up. Wake up." She rolled over and pretended to still be sleeping, and just when Harris least expected it, jumped up, grabbed him, and tickled. He laughed his wonderful laugh and she tickled more. "Come on, little man, let's clean up and check things out."

"Yeah. This place is cool."

Tooty set him in front of her and knelt. "Harris, I want you to watch the things you say. Things like asking men to be your daddy or telling ladies their lipstick is really red. If you're not sure what you want to say is okay, I want you to tug on my hand so you can whisper it in my ear. I'll let you know. Okay?"

"Okay, Mommy. I promise."

Tooty ruffled his hair and went to find a change of clothes for them. Removing her Levis and western blouse with front snaps, she opted for a short sleeve shirt dress with tiny yellow flowers in a swirling pattern. It buttoned down the front with yellow buttons and had a yellow plastic belt at the waist. Since she rarely wore dresses, she sighed when she twirled in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in the attached bathroom.
It's kinda cute, I guess.
Dressing Harris in a nice pair of slacks and starched white shirt, she washed his face and combed his silky brown hair back with water. It was a little on the longish side, but she hated cutting his curls.

Finally, washing her own face and combing her hair into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck with a yellow ribbon, and then digging into her makeup bag for an eyebrow pencil that still had some lead, she gave herself some arched brows. Adding blush, a hint of brown eye shadow, and pink lipstick, she tilted her head back and forth, studying her reflection. Then she visualized Monica's flawlessness. Jeez, the woman was older than Tooty and didn't have nary a wrinkle. Tooty scrunched her face until she could see tiny crinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes.
Maybe Monica's an alien from the "perfect face" world.
She laughed at her own silliness and grabbed Harris' hand. "Come on, I'm hungry."

"Me, too. I hope they have bascetti."

Tooty smiled at Harris' word for spaghetti.

Following the hallway to the front of the house, Tooty heard voices and sucked a calming breath before rounding the corner with Harris. When she did, she saw Miles in his wheelchair with Monica standing beside him wearing a fiery red silk dress that wrapped around her petite curvy figure. It matched her lipstick. She had her hand on his shoulder.

Tooty squared her shoulders in her gauche country dress and pasted a smile on her face. Sitting opposite Miles on a cream colored divan was an older couple. The man wore a gray suit and gray tie and the woman a beautiful suit the same cream color as the couch. Even her hair and earrings were cream colored. The couple looked fit and trim and everyone glanced up when she entered. Inadvertently, she squeezed Harris' hand and he said, "Ouch, Mommy." Loosening her grip, she walked further into the room.

"Hello, Tooty and Harris. Were you able to rest?" asked Miles.

"Yes, thank you."

Harris said, "I like the big windows in the bedroom. The cars are really tiny."

Miles grinned. "I like the big windows myself." He looked toward the older couple. "Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet Tooty Townsend and her son, Harris. Tooty is my personal assistant in Colorado and she'll be helping me while we're in New York. Tooty, please meet my parents, Brad and Vivienne Brightman."

Mr. Brightman stood. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Toot-Tooty."

Harris giggled when Mr. Brightman stumbled over her name. No doubt he'd tease her about it later. Tooty stepped forward, pulling Harris with her.

"I'm really happy to meet ya'll. She stuck out her hand. Say hello, Harris."

Harris grinned and stuck out his hand, imitating his mother. "Me too. I'm happy, too." The couple took turns shaking their hands and Tooty noticed Mrs. Brightman smooth hers surreptitiously over her skirt, like Harris might have dirt on his hands or something. Both of them looked like they were forcing smiles. She had an instant dislike.

Myrna saved the awkward moment when she stepped into the room to announce dinner.

"Yeah!" Harris exclaimed. "Is it bascetti?"

Tooty grinned. "He means spaghetti."

Myrna smiled. "No, not tonight; maybe tomorrow night." She winked and Tooty liked her even more.

Miles motioned for everyone to precede him to the dining room and Tooty almost groaned aloud when she saw the elegant room and beautiful place settings. She and Harris were as out of place here as a bull in a dress shop. Miles wheeled his chair to the head of the table and motioned his mother and father to either side of him. Monica sat beside his mother and Tooty sat beside his father with Harris next to her. Tooty pushed Harris' hands into his lap when he started playing with his forks. Myrna and Harvey wheeled food carts into the room and began serving everyone. Tooty looked at the tray of ugly fish eggs and declined. Harris said, "Yuck!" and Tooty kneed him under the table.

"Ouch, Mommy."

* * *

Miles lifted his napkin to hide his grin at the look on Tooty's face when Myrna had asked if she wanted caviar. He had to cough to hide his laugh when Harris gave her up for poking him under the table. He made a mental note to make sure Myrna prepared spaghetti the next night.

Monica was speaking, "Miles, please put us out of our misery and give us some tidbit about your upcoming book."

Miles wished she hadn't asked. He didn't feel like talking about himself. He simply said, "It's coming along well. I've added more of a romantic aspect, thanks to Tooty's suggestion, and it's actually going to be the final book in the series. I believe it's time to move on to something fresh."

Monica looked at Tooty, "Hmm. More romance. I think I like that. Although personally, Miles has no problem with that in real life," she said slyly.

Miles wanted to groan. Sometimes the woman was a pain in the ass. They'd had a light romantic relationship for over two years and her company was beginning to wear thin.

His father said, "How is the movie aspect coming along? Are you going to do the screenwriting?"

"Actually, no. There are many competent screenwriters. Like I said, I want to concentrate on writing in a fresh genre."

"That sounds intriguing, son. Do you want to reveal the genre?"

"I was thinking of writing a comedy, but now I'm debating about writing a romance. I like the books by Nicolas Sparks."

Mr. Brightman coughed. "Are you kidding?"

"No, sir. It would be a challenge and I could fall flat on my ass."

His mother interrupted. "Why take that chance when what you write now sells so well?"

"At this point in my life, it's all about the challenge, and writing a comedy or a romance would certainly challenge me." He watched Harris pushing his food around on his plate and giving Tooty a look that clearly showed his distaste for it. Miles rang the bell beside his glass and Myrna rushed into the room.

"Yes, sir. Are you ready for the next course?" He motioned her forward and crooked his finger so he could whisper in her ear. She smiled. "I understand."

He returned his attention to his mother. "It's too bad Cecelia couldn't make it."

"I know. She's excited that you're back and intends to drop by this week, but you know your sister, always on the go and busy with some charity project. I think she's doing something with the Big Bro and Big Sis Organization."

Polite conversation continued and Miles watched Harris grow antsier while Tooty tried to get him to eat something. Finally, Myrna returned carrying another plate. Lifting the offending plate from in front of Harris, she replaced it with the one in her hand boasting a big hotdog. His eyes rounded and he said, "Oh, yeah." He started to pick it up, but looked at his mom. "You want half, Mommy. You don't have to eat this weird food. I'll share."

Miles' mother gasped and Monica gave the child a stern look. Miles laughed. "Tomorrow, we're having spaghetti." When Tooty gave him a grateful look and smile, he felt like he'd committed an act of valor. Maybe his harebrained idea of inviting her and Harris to New York wasn't so harebrained after all. They lightened what would have otherwise been a stodgy dinner party.

Tooty's stomach growled loudly. She'd wanted to accept Harris' offer of half his hot dog, but that would have been just
too
rude. Her stomach growled again. She glanced at the clock—one. Surely, no one would be up now and she could grab a slice of bread or something. She slipped out of bed and reached for her old housecoat to throw over her even older flannel pajamas.

Tiptoeing toward the kitchen, she passed the other bedrooms. She wondered if Monica was in Miles' bedroom. The thought made her queasy. After dinner Monica had accompanied Miles while he'd taken Tooty and Harris on a tour of his home. She'd still been there when Tooty had clasped Harris' hand and bid everyone goodnight.

She reached the kitchen, but instead of busting in, she decided to peek around the corner just in case someone was being a night owl like her.

OMG! She ducked her head back. Miles was there with Monica! And the woman was still wearing red. Only this time it was a silk clinger that reached mid thigh and hung open to the belted waist. There was also a wine bottle on the island and wine glasses.
Oh, golly.
Miles' shirt was unbuttoned and Monica was bending over kissing him while stroking his naked chest. God help her, she wanted to peek again.

Slinking back to her room she walked to the windows to stare out over the city. She sniffed. So what if they were doing the dirty. What did she care? She'd kinda wondered if he was capable in that department. Now she knew. He'd sure looked sexy.
He's got a great body. Stop it!

Opening the box with the diary, Tooty crawled back into bed, tucked the covers around Harris, and read the next entry.

Friday, March 31, 1865

Eli slept real good last night. He woke once and told me to go to bed. He said I needed to sleep in a real bed and not the chair. He seemed agitated when I said I didn't want to, so I went to bed to please him. I didn't wake until after it was light. Pa was taking the chamber pot out the door to dump when I got up. Eli was just staring at the ceiling and he didn’t say anything when I said hello, or even when I changed his bandages. It made me sad. All day he remained quiet. After supper I decided to read to him. I pulled out my favorite book, Pride and Prejudice.

Tooty read a few more entries. The last one really piqued her interest.

Monday, April 10, 1865

Eli has been eating good for several days now and he has no more infection. His stumps are almost completely healed. He pushes himself into a sitting position most of the day. He even sits at the side of the bed sometimes. Although he doesn't talk much, I think I see some kind of enjoyment in his eyes when I read to him every night. When I was in town today with Pa, I asked Mr. Maddox at the general store about those fancy chairs for people who can't walk. He let me tear a picture out of one of the catalogues. I took it to Jed, the blacksmith, to see if he could build one. He said he could and that he'd only charge me for the materials. I asked him how much and he gave a price that was more than what I have saved up, but I told him to build it anyway. I'll just take in more mending and washing. I hope I have enough money by the time he's done. If not, I'll ask him to let me pay it over time.