Courting the Clown (8 page)
Read Courting the Clown Online
Authors: Cathy Quinn
“Uh..... Six. Six...ish.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Six-ish?”
“Actually, I don’t know. I’ll do my best to keep the numbers down, but it’s a bit tricky.”
“How tricky can it get?”
“I told Emily she could invite her ‘bestest’ friend from the neighborhood to her sister’s birthday party. She ran off to play in the backyard, some kids joined her, and when she got back, she told me she had four ‘bestest’ friends and they were all coming. And then there are Lana’s friends. We haven’t talked to them yet.”
A smile was trembling at the corner of her lips at the tug-of-war between affection and exasperation in Nick’s voice. She could imagine Emily kept him very busy. “So, six kids so far, and you haven’t even invited anyone yet?”
“That’s right. I’m sorry. They’ll behave themselves, I promise.”
“They better. I’ll be having anxiety attacks for a year.”
Nick looked guilty. “That bad?”
“I’ll live. How’s Lana doing?”
“Fine.” Nick smiled. “She’s really looking forward to her birthday. She wants pink paper plates with princess pictures and a polka-dot cake.”
Sylvie groaned. “No. Not more polka dots. And what is it about little girls and the color pink?”
“I have no idea. It’s one of the great mysteries of life. But you will be there, won’t you?”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ll be there. I promised. I took the job. You’re
still
worried I’ll cut and run?”
“Well...” He grinned sheepishly and looked adorable. She crossed her eyes slightly so he’d morph out of focus. She didn’t need ‘adorable’ added to the mixture. She was just Iffy the clown. Only here because he was desperate to help his daughter. She’d better remember her place. And her place was inside a polka-dotted clown’s suit, about to sit down on a whoopee cushion with cream pie on her red-nosed face.
“Yes, I am a bit worried,” he confessed. “The girls keep asking about you. I didn’t dare tell them you would be there for sure. I wanted to check with you first.”
“ You have nothing to worry about. I will be your daughter’s personal birthday clown. I promised. And I’m here, aren’t I, playing
Jingle Bells
ad nauseum for an astronomical amount?”
Nick looked up from his sandwich and grinned. “Okay. Point taken. Thank you.”
That smile would be enough to keep her warm all day.
Damn.
* * *
“Is Iffy coming, Daddy? To Lana’s birthday? Is she coming?”
Nick sighed. It has been the first question Emily asked this morning. It had been the last question he’d heard last night, and now it was the first question she asked as he and Lana picked her up from preschool.
That was the reason he’d stopped by at
Robots and Ragdolls
today, wasn’t it. For his daughter’s sake, he’d wanted to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind, that she’d be there for Lana’s birthday.
Sylvie’s lovely eyes and that quirky smile had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.
He herded his daughters into the back seat, wondering how in the world this had happened. How had his daughters managed to form such an attachment to a total stranger who didn’t even like kids? Had they been infected with Fluffy’s feline temperament, that peculiar trait of always figuring out the anti-cat person and heading straight towards her?
Come to think of it, had
he
?
He’d certainly been quick enough to convince himself he needed to meet Sylvie for lunch. He’d managed to convince himself that it was imperative to make sure she was still coming to the birthday party – and that he urgently needed to finish up the paperwork regarding her new job.
Neither excuse held water when he thought about it. He could have had the papers delivered to R&R for her signature. And she’d already agreed to be their clown – she’d taken the job. Just the fact that she’d shown up for work proved that she intended to follow through.
Yeah, he’d been lying to himself. He’d just wanted to see her again, especially since their meeting had been cut so short. There was something there. Something that intrigued him enough to interfere with his work, intrude on his thoughts when he least expected it.
He’d been attracted to her personality already there in the snow, behind that ghastly clown’s face. He’d felt almost protective when she confessed to her fear of kids – and had an instant flashback to the first birthday party he’d hosted on his own.
Then later, he’d been amused and touched by the way she’d reacted towards his children in the restaurant – how she’d tried to hide her apprehension around Emily and her wariness of Lana’s needy gaze. She’d been awkward, but nevertheless tried to engage Lana in conversation and banter with mischievous Emily.
She might insist that she didn’t like kids, but she nevertheless had an affinity with them – and she didn’t even realize that. The whole package had warmed him to her.
Then she’d shown up at his office, all cleaned up – a different person. There was nothing he could have recognized about her. Barely even her voice, now that it wasn’t trembling from cold – or fear.
A lovely woman.
Shallow that he was, he’d liked her in the clown suit, but been startled to find himself lusting after her out of it. He was feeling rather annoyed with himself over the whole thing. Women and his daughters did not mix. He had hardly dated at all since the girls came to live with him. They were motherless and still traumatized after losing their mother – it would confuse them hopelessly if a woman was brought into their little family.
If he were going to pursue any kind of relationship with a woman, his daughters would not be brought into it unless something serious was going on. So he was definitely not about to give into superficial feelings for this clown. He hardly knew her anyway, and that was how it would stay.
Absentminded, he made sure his daughters were buckled in before starting the car to head home, not realizing he hadn’t answered Emily’s question.
“Will she, Daddy? Is Iffy coming?” Emily’s voice grew into a semi-shout, as it always did when he didn’t answer her right away. He gave her a look in the rearview mirror and she pouted as she knew what it meant. “I mean, will she, Daddy?” she whispered, melting his heart as always.
“Of course she’ll be there,” he said, looking at both of them. “She promised,” he added as he stopped at a red light, twisting around to meet Lana’s eyes. “She wouldn’t break a promise.” Besides, he had her name, address and social security number. No way she could back out now.
“But did you make sure,” Emily persisted. “Did you ask her?”
“ Yes, brat. I did. I met her at
Robots and Ragdolls
today and I talked to her. She’ll be there. Definitely. And you’re going to be nice to her. Right?”
“Yes,” Emily squirmed and looked out the window, probably to avoid meeting her father’s eye. “I’ll be nice.”
Lana was also looking out the window, but she was smiling. Nick smiled himself as he threaded the streets towards home. He’d waited so long for Lana to come out of her shell. He’d been confident she would, sooner or later, but even so, seeing the cracks in her armor widen and her smile light up the world, seemed nothing short of a miracle.
For some reason, Sylvie was a part of this process.
And that was all she’d be.
“A toy store?”
It was show time for Iffy the Clown. Both her cousins had shown up at
Clowns and Clauses
for a full report. And they were amused. More than amused. Susie was actually rolling around on the floor holding her stomach, while Helen was biting her lips to keep from exploding into undignified giggles, a very unusual state for cool, collected Helen.
“ Just you wait,” Sylvie said, glowering. “My suffering will have a proportional effect on the hell I’ll want to put the two of you through. And each minute you spend laughing at me, will mean an additional minute added to
your
version of hell.”
Even threats didn’t dampen their mirth. “It’s just too perfect,” Susie hiccupped. “After the clown thing.... deliberately not telling you he was offering you a job at a toy store. Ah, what a guy. I’m in love and I haven’t even met him yet. He sounds my type. Any chance you’ll introduce us?”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes at her friend. “No! Definitely not!”
“Heh!” Susie said smugly. “I suspected you’d say that.”
“And?” Helen prompted. “How is it? As terrible as you’d imagined?”
Sylvie wiped not-so-imaginary sweat of her forehead. “No. Not too bad. Better than I’d have expected. I mean, it could have been worse. The piano is relatively inaccessible. It’s up on a platform, I climb a ladder to get there, and you have to sort of squeeze behind a stage to get to the ladder. So I’m pretty much left alone. Only one very determined little brat managed to climb up and throw himself on the keyboard. His mother tried to bribe him with some Playmobile toys, but he still refused to get back down, kept hammering at the piano and I wasn’t about to be the one to climb down that ladder holding a screaming kid.”
“Wow. How did that end?”
“I managed to keep a smile on until someone finally alerted security and told them there was probably something wrong with the pianist, and this was not just modern day Christmas music. So they came and rescued me. Just one flash of uniform, and that kid shot down the ladder and stood there like an angel at his mother’s side, eyes wide and innocent. I have a sneaking feeling the little guy had met our scary security guards before. But that was the only trouble I had. Most of the kids were more interested in the wares. Well, or Santa.”
“ They had a Santa there? Was it one from
Clowns and Clauses
?” Susie asked.
“How should I know which Santa is yours?”
“Did he have green mittens? All our Santas have green mittens. It’s how we recognize each other. So many Santas in the city these days.”
“I didn’t notice his mittens, but he seemed a bit shell-shocked, poor guy.”
“Ah, a volunteer.” Susie nodded knowledgeably. “They never learn, and get an amateurs to dress up, thinking it’s no big deal. Ridiculous! Being a Santa or a clown is not for sissies. It takes a lot of guts and a lot of training to do it well.”
“Susie, you’re not helping.” Helen gave her cousin a sharp jab with her elbow. “Sylvie has a gig in an hour, remember?”
“Yeah,” Sylvie said dejectedly. “I should probably start getting dressed. “And you’ll help me with the make-up too?”
“No problem,” Susie chirped. “Looking forward to it.”
“I’ll just watch,” Helen said, getting comfortable. “This should be fun.”
Sylvie groaned. “Great. That makes two of you.”
The phone rang, and Susie sprang into action, jumping into the tiny office to take the call.
“Start with the costume, remember!” she called, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “Else you’ll get the paint all over it, and our cleaning bill is bad enough as it is.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sylvie grumbled, ambling to the costume rack. Clean clown costumes hung there, side by side with Santa costume, and assorted other garments. “Let me show you,” she told Helen. “The ugliest clown’s costume in the entire world!”
She flipped through the clown side once, then again.
Oh, no.
“Disaster!” Sylvie screeched, and Susie came running.
“What’s wrong?”
She gestured at the rack. “The clown suit! My clown suit! It’s gone!”
“
Your
clown suit?”
“The one I wore last time. It had orange and pink polka dots. I need that one. I have to wear that one!”
“Damn.” Susie flipped through the costumes, double-checking. “I’m sorry, but it’s definitely not here. On of the others must be wearing it.”
“One of the others? Who could choose pink and orange polka dots? It was by far the most horrible costume you have! And it was bleeding dye all over the place!”
“Hey, I picked it out myself,” Susie said, offended. “I thought it look really cheerful. Like a clown should!”
“You painted a tear on my cheek, remember? I was a sad clown.”
“It was all part of the master plan. The tear made a nice contrast to the joyful message the costume sent.”
Sylvie almost flailed her hands in panic. “What do I do? I have to be there in two hours. A little girl is waiting for me. Her entire future happiness may depend on my being there. This is a matter of life and death!”
“I’ll check in the back,” Susie said, swiveling around. “Just in case. Maybe it has just come back from the cleaners.”
“Hurry!”
Helen stood up and put her hand on Sylvie’s arm. “Hey! Snap out of it.”
Sylvie slid down in the chair her cousin had vacated. “Sorry. I’m letting her father’s mania effect me. Of course this isn’t a matter of life and death.”
“What’s the big panic? There are plenty of other costumes here.”
“Yes, but Lana wanted this one.”
“ Didn’t she want
you
?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if it’s really me she wanted, or just a clown wearing that exact outfit.” Sylvie groaned. “It was probably the costume. I mean, I doubt she’d even recognize me out of it. I know her father didn’t.” She opened one eye and checked out the remaining clown suits. There were yellow and pink stripes. Green and purple plaid. All sorts of option. Would Iffy the Clown still be Iffy the Clown without her pink polka dots?