Sweet Baklava (14 page)

She clicked off her phone and relaxed her shoulders. With that settled, she didn't have a thing to worry about—except a bunch of meddling but well-meaning Papadopoulos women . . . and obviously now the men too.

Until now Paula's business classes in college hadn't made much sense. However, with regular employees and a production crew, she could see the sense of what some of her professors talked about.

Her phone rang again, and this time it was Nick. "What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" She couldn't remember making plans with Nick the last time she saw him. "Okay, I give. What's happening tomorrow?"

He groaned. "Don't tell me you forgot about the Clearwater Jazz Festival."

"Oh yeah, that."

"Don't get too excited."

"Sorry, Nick, it's just that—"

"Be careful you don't get so wrapped up in being a business tycoon you forget about the little people."

Paula laughed. "I'll try, but it's your job to keep me humble."

"I guess that works both ways, doesn't it?"

"Yep. You can definitely count on me to keep your ego out of the sky."

"Yes, I know that." Nick's somber tone made her laugh.

"I didn't mean to sound insulting."

"I know." Silence fell between them for a few seconds before he continued. "Okay, so do you still want to go to the festival or not?"

"I said I did, didn't I?"

"You make it sound like a chore. I don't want you to go just because you feel obligated."

Paula didn't feel that way at all. In fact, her pulse still raced from hearing Nick's voice.

"What time are we going?" she asked.

"How about I pick you up around ten tomorrow morning, and we can walk around the art show in downtown Clearwater first?"

"Um . . . how about later? I have to do a few things for the shop first."

She heard Nick's sigh of exasperation. "Since you're so busy, you tell me what time to pick you up."

"How about one o'clock?"

"Fine. I'll see you at one. Gotta run."

Paula slowly flipped her phone shut. This was one of those times she wished she had someone to talk to. Grandma had passed away a few years ago, Mom was useless unless she needed something, and Alexa and Steph had ulterior motives.

W
hat did you do with the money I already sent?" Paula couldn't believe her mother had the gall to ask for even more money.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Um . . . it sort of is my business. It's not like you're asking for spare change."

"If you don't have it, just say so."

Paula thought about the orders that kept rolling in and how much money she'd be making off them. Even after she paid her employees and production people, she'd still have more income in the next quarter than she had during the previous year—enough to replenish her savings and add more to her retirement fund.

"It's not about whether or not I have the money. I just want to know if there's something else you need more. This sounds like a problem way beyond money."

"Don't go lecturing me, Paula. I'm not a child."

Then stop acting like one,
she wanted to say.

"So the question is do you care enough to help me out or not?"

Leave it to her mother to play the guilt card. "When do you need it?"

"Can you send it today?"

Paula thought for a moment. She expected the checks to start coming in about thirty days, but she did still have some savings that she could transfer to checking.

"How about I mail it tomorrow?"

After a few seconds of silence, her mother replied, "I guess that'll be okay. Just make sure you get to the post office before their pick-up time. I'll need it in my account by Tuesday."

"Mom, is this going to continue?"

"I'm not sure. Mack is really on my back about this job thing."

"Why don't you either find a job or talk to him about it?"

"He doesn't understand. You know how men are."

"Does he have any idea where this money is coming from?"

"Of course not. It's none of his business where I get my money."

Paula's frustration made her want to scream, but instead she closed her eyes, prayed for patience, and said she needed to go. Memories of her mother reminding her of how she felt smothered from the responsibilities of single parenting swamped her in guilt.

"Don't forget to mail the money first thing in the morning."

As soon as they got off the phone, Paula went online and made an electronic transfer of funds. Then she wrote the check and got it ready to mail. She placed it on the counter so she wouldn't forget to take it to the post office the next morning.

The phone ringing early Saturday jarred her from sleep. She lifted one eye and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only six-thirty.

"Paula, we can't figure out your change of instructions on this last batch of soap." It was one of the production workers at the Senior Center.

"What y'all doing there so early?"

"We were all excited to get this done, so we met here at six. Did you want vanilla with Alexa's Almond Cookies, or do we leave it out?"

Paula sat up and rubbed her eyes. She couldn't remember the exact formula. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I'll come over there and get you started."

"Okay. In the meantime we'll set up for the next scent."

She quickly washed her face, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door. When she got to the Senior Center, she was glad they had a fresh pot of coffee brewing and a platter of fruit and pastries.

As she sipped her coffee, she studied her notes. Mildred pointed to the differences between the soap and candle formulas.

"You have vanilla in one and not the other," she said.

"Yes, I see that. I must have made a mistake. Let me play with it for a few minutes before I decide."

A half hour later, Paula handed them the revised formulas. Mildred nodded as she took the paper.

"This is obviously a mix of science, art, and the sense of smell."

"Exactly," Paula agreed. "I'm glad you asked before you went forward."

The production people offered smiles filled with pride. "It's important to do a good job with this," one woman said. "You're the first person who has given us an opportunity to supplement our Social Security income, and we don't want to blow it."

"I'll have my cell phone with me all day, so don't hesitate to call again if you need more help," Paula said. "Thanks for the coffee."

Since she was already out, she went to the shop, where Alexa had a line waiting to be helped. Paula took a couple of the customers, and then Steph came in.

"I thought you and Nick were going to the Jazz Festival today," Steph said.

"We are, but not until one."

"It's already eleven, so why don't you go on home and get ready?"

Paula offered a lopsided grin. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Don't sabotage your relationship with Nick, Paula." Steph took Paula by the arm and led her to the door. "The shop is in good hands. Alexa and I will take care of everything here. Go home and get ready for your date."

"Okay, okay." Paula did as she was told and went straight home. It wasn't until she'd showered and dressed that she remembered the check. The mail had already gone out.

She tried to call her mother's cell phone, but there was no answer. After a brief hesitation, she called her mother's home number. Mack answered.

"Hey there, Paula. Long time since I heard from you. How's business?"

"It couldn't be better. Is my mother there?"

"No, she's at work now. Want me to give her a message?"

"She got a job?"

"Yeah, she got one about two weeks ago. I thought she would have called and told you, but I reckon she was just too busy."

Paula hung up and stared at the phone. She didn't like how this was starting to look.

Nick arrived right on time. "I brought chairs and food from Mama."

"Baklava?"

He snickered. "Probably. She packed it, and I didn't ask questions."

"I don't think they allow people to bring their own food."

"We can eat it afterward. I thought we might head back to the beach after we leave the festival."

"Would you mind stopping by the post office? I have to get something in the mail right away."

"Sure. It's on the way to Clearwater."

Nick saw Paula's mother's name on the envelope as she pulled it out of her bag. He waited in the car while she ran inside. She returned looking flushed.

"How's your mother doing?"

"I'm not sure." Paula fidgeted with the edge of her handbag. "Something strange is going on with her, and I don't know what to think."

Strange was a mild word for Bonnie. "Wanna tell me about it, and maybe between the two of us we can figure it out?"

Paula pulled her lips between her teeth and shook her head. Nick concentrated on his driving and let her think about what she wanted to do. Finally, she spoke.

"She said Mack wants her to get a job, and she doesn't want to. Then she's been asking me for money."

Nick's insides tightened. "Your mother is asking for money? And are you giving it to her?" He grimaced as he realized why she needed to stop at the post office. "Was there money in that envelope?"

"Well . . . yes."

"Do you mind telling me what she needs money for? I thought Mack had a good job."

"That's what I can't figure out. The first time she said she needed it for her car payment because she'd fallen behind. This time she said she needed the money right away, and I was supposed to get it in today's mail, but I forgot. So I called. She didn't answer her cell phone, so I called her at home. Mack said she was at work."

"Okay, so she got a job. Maybe she won't need any more money."

"Mack said she's been working for a couple of weeks, but just yesterday she said she didn't want to get a job."

"Someone is obviously lying." And Nick knew who it was.

"Obviously," she agreed.

He lifted his hand, made a fist, and started to pound the steering wheel but stopped himself. He didn't need to let Paula see the anger he felt toward her parents. Her very selfish parents who were more blessed than they deserved.

When he stopped for a light, he glanced in her direction. She was staring out the side window, deep in thought. Instinctively, he reached out and touched her arm. She looked at him and smiled.

"Let's not talk about my mom, okay?"

Nick nodded. She was right. He didn't need to let someone else come between him and the woman he loved—the woman he had to convince to marry him in the almost four weeks he had left in Florida. But today he'd try to focus on the moment. She had enough emotional baggage weighing her down for the time being.

The festival was already well underway, and parking was nearly impossible to find anywhere near the event. "I don't mind walking," she said.

"Good thing because it doesn't look like we have a choice."

He dug the chairs out from the trunk. Without saying a word, she took one of the chairs. As they walked toward Coachman Park, he thought about what a great team they made.

The sound of saxophones filled the air, and the closer they got the more Nick felt at peace. He and Paula had been to this festival before—another gentle reminder that what they had was lasting.

On the way to the field Paula stopped by a couple of the art exhibits and admired the artists' work. Nick got some of their cards so he could contact them later, paying careful attention to what she said she liked.

"How about over there?" Paula pointed to the only spot of shaded grass available.

"Sure." They opened their chairs and plopped them down next to each other. Nick sat down and took a deep breath. "This is the life. Times like this I really miss it."

"Apparently not that much."

Nick looked at Paula. Her face didn't show even a hint of sarcasm. "Actually, I do miss it that much, but I figure I can always come back after I retire."

"That's a long time."

"Not as long as you might think. I've already been in almost eight years. I'll be able to retire in my early forties."

"Then what?" Paula's gaze settled on him.

She wondered if he'd ever be happy living on the West Coast of Florida after moving around and seeing places he'd always dreamed about. "Do you ever really want to move back here?"

Nick stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. "All depends."

"On what?"

He took her hand. "Let's not go there." He squeezed her hand and warmed her heart with a sweet smile. "I'd like to leave all that for later."

"Yeah. Why don't we just enjoy the afternoon?"

"Great idea." He pointed to the new act taking the stage. "Aren't those local guys?"

"Those are the people who played at the St. Petersburg College Talent Show back when you were taking classes at the Tarpon campus."

"That's what I thought." He listened for a few seconds. "They look a lot older."

Paula burst out in laughter. "They are, and so are we. It's been . . . what, ten years or so?"

"Something like that."

They listened to the music until the bands changed again. "Want something to eat?" Nick asked as he stood. "I'm starving."

"Sure, I could use some food." She stood, but he pointed to the chair.

"You need to stay here and save the spot."

She sat back down. "Okay, I'd like a hamburger and whatever you have to drink."

Nick grinned. "French fries?"

"Of course."

"How about dessert?"

Paula thought it over then shook her head. "Better not. We'll be eating baklava later."

"I sure hope Mama remembered to pack some."

"If not, I'll forgive her," Paula teased.

"Look." Nick pointed to some people they knew back in high school. "I haven't seen them since I graduated."

"Sherrie used to be a regular customer at the shop, but lately she never buys anything, even though she still comes in to look. I think Patrick lost his job last year, and he's having a hard time finding a new one."

"That's rough. Patrick used to work for one of my uncles, remember?"

Paula nodded. "And he always showed up late."

"Does Sherrie work?"

"I don't know. In case you didn't notice, they have three little kids. Daycare is expensive."

"If Patrick is home anyway, why can't he watch the kids?"