The Boyfriend of the Month Club (22 page)

“Yep. Mold-A-Rama machines.” Grace had always thought they looked like something right out of an old TV episode of
Star Trek
. “There aren’t a lot of places left that still have them, but Florida Charlie’s is one of them,” she said proudly.

Joe fished inside the pocket of his scrub pants for change. He walked up and down, staring at the machines like he couldn’t decide which one to try.

“This one makes some very nasty-looking alligators,” Grace said. “And of course, we have the space shuttle machine, and this one makes dinosaurs, and this one does flamingos. And—”

“I want a dinosaur. A T. rex.”

“Got two bucks?”

“I could have sworn these cost a quarter when I was a kid. Fifty cents, tops.”

“Inflation,” Grace said with a shrug.

Despite complaining of the cost, Joe eagerly plunked his change into the machine. The Power Forward button came on and the mold snapped together. Grace got a kick out of watching the looks on the faces of people who remembered Mold-A-Rama machines from their childhood. They looked exactly like Joe did right now, both stunned and excited. The machine made the familiar whirring sound as the liquid wax poured through the tube and into the mold. A couple of minutes later, a palm-sized, gold-colored T. rex plopped down into the sliding glass chamber. Joe bent to retrieve it.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Grace warned.

He picked it up anyway and brought it up to his nose. “It even smells like summer vacation.”

She showed him all the different kinds of beach towels and hats and the entire aisle of sunscreen and lotions available. He seemed impressed by the variety but he didn’t show much interest again until they got to the Hemingway corner. She explained Pop’s fascination with the writer and Joe picked up a couple of books and read the backs. He tucked one of them under his arm. He’d picked
The Old Man and the Sea
.

“That’s Pop’s favorite.”

“I don’t ever remember reading it,” he said.

“I’ve never read it either. It’s kind of a guy book.”

She finished the tour by showing him her office.

“What does that lead to?” he asked, indicating a door across the hallway.

“That’s the museum. It’s what we call the storage room that holds all our outdated bestselling and not-so-bestselling junk.”

She hadn’t been in the room in forever, but based on Joe’s reaction to the Mold-A-Rama machines, he might get a kick out of it. She opened the door and flipped on the light.

“Holy shit,” Joe muttered. “Look at all this stuff.” It was four hundred square feet of ceiling-to-floor shelves jammed with products from bygone eras.

“Mami—that’s what I call my Mom—catalogued all this. It’s all in order, from the date the product was originally sold. I bet we even have a mermaid-watching kit here.” Grace searched for the most likely aisle to find it on. “Yep. Right here.” She pulled one down. Inside a clear plastic cellophane bag was the “kit”: a child-sized scuba mask and breathing tube, an underwater magnifying glass, and a book on mermaid lore. “These were specially prepared for the store,” Grace explained. “We stopped selling them in the mid-eighties, so you probably got one of the last ones.”

“How long have you worked here?” he asked, clearly impressed with her knowledge of the inventory.

“All my life. I was practically raised at Florida Charlie’s. Officially, I started drawing a paycheck at fifteen. First I was a cashier, then I worked my way up to orange girl. I was pretty good at that. After I went off to college, I worked here during the summers, and then when I graduated I came on full-time, mostly as Pop’s Girl Friday. For the past eight years, I’ve been the store’s main buyer. That’s the person who buys all the stuff you see here. I bet I’ve been to more trade shows than you’ve filled cavities. I also helped develop ads, filled in as manager, that kind of thing. Then, a couple of years ago, after my dad had a heart attack, I took over everything.”

“Sounds like a great job.”

That startled Grace. “It can be. Sometimes.”

He looked like he was about to say something when her attention was drawn to a shrink-wrapped doll on the counter to her right. “Good grief!” She reached for the doll and brushed the dust off the plastic. “C’mon,” she said, grabbing Joe by the hand. “I think she’s still here.”

Joe didn’t ask questions. He followed Grace to the front of the store where the woman she’d spoken to earlier was waiting in line for Marty to ring up her purchases. “Ma’am, is this the doll you were talking about?” Grace showed her the package.

“That’s her!” The woman took the doll in her hands and turned her over in amazement. “Where do you have these?”

“It was in the back, in a storage room full of old products.”

“Can I buy it?”

“Actually, it’s not in the store’s computer system, but since you remember her, you can have her, free of charge.”

“Oh! Thank you. Thank you so much! My sister . . . she’s . . . she’s going to love this.”

Joe waited till the woman left the store. “What was that about?”

“Customer relations,” Grace said, thinking about the expression on the woman’s face when she talked about her sister. There was another story there, Grace was certain of it. Funny, if Joe hadn’t stopped by the store today, Grace wouldn’t have had a reason to check out the “museum” and the woman wouldn’t have gotten her doll. It was like the two events were intertwined somehow.

“Would you mind ringing this up for me?” he asked, holding up the book. “I wish I could stay longer but I need to get back to work.”

“It’s a freebie.” Joe began to protest. “No, really, you spent a small fortune in oranges. Take the book,” she said.

“Customer relations?”

“You got it.”

“So what are you doing New Year’s Eve? Because I’ve been invited to a party and I’d like you to go with me.” There was no pretense that this was a friends anything. It was a date, pure and simple.

She almost said yes. And then she remembered Sarah’s party. “I’m sorry, but I already have plans. I’m going to Sarah’s for New Year’s Eve. It’s an all-girl thing. Chocolate fondue and champagne and chick flicks. Sarah’s divorce will be final right after Christmas, and even though she’s come to terms with it, it’s still going to be a sucky time for her. I’m her best friend, so I have to go.”

He nodded like he understood, but deep down she wondered if he thought he was being blown off. Grace walked him back to the store’s entrance just as Pop and Mami and Abuela came through the front doors. They’d been out shopping, Mami explained, and Pop had insisted they stop by.

“So, Tomato, how’s business been today?” Pop asked.

Joe smiled at her
. Tomato?

Ha. Ha. Yes, Tomato
, her expression said. She smiled back at him and it felt like they’d just shared a secret joke.

“Business has been okay,” she said. She introduced Joe to the family.

“So you’re the guy who took over for Dr. Fred, huh? Nice of you to stop by the shop.” Pop shook his hand and when he saw Joe had a copy of
The Old Man and the Sea
, his face lit up and the two of them talked Hemingway for a few minutes. Then Joe spoke in Spanish to Mami and Abuela and Grace thought both of them might melt into puddles right there on the floor.

Later, after Joe left with his T-shirt and his book and his wax T. rex safely wrapped up in tissue paper, Abuela made a point of finding out more about him. “He’s so handsome! And he seems like a very nice young man.”

Grace thought about the past hour Joe had just spent in the store. It felt more like a date than any date she’d ever been on. Men had bought her flowers, candy, and now even bottles of Dom Perignon, but no one had ever wooed her like Joe. If she thought his interest in the store had been strictly for her benefit, then it wouldn’t have made such an impact. But he’d been genuinely charmed by Florida Charlie’s and that, in turn, had charmed
her
. It was the most potent aphrodisiac Grace had ever encountered. She’d told the girls she wasn’t interested in anyone, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She was interested in Joe.

“Abuela, do you . . . do you remember telling me about the dream? About my future husband?”

“Of course I remember.”

Grace waited for Abuela to say something. “Oh,” Abuela said, after a few seconds. “You want to know if your dentist friend is the one I saw in the dream?”

“Well, just for fun. I mean, I don’t really—”

“Is he the one who sent you the flowers?”

Grace shook her head no.

“I’m sorry, Gracielita, he’s not the one. But he might make a nice husband for your friend Ellen.”

19

What Are Men to Champagne and Chocolate?

The chocolate fondue was sinful. The champagne wasn’t Dom Perignon but it was cold and bubbly and delicious. And the company was, without doubt, the very best. It should have been a recipe for a successful New Year’s Eve party. So why was Grace miserable? It wasn’t that she didn’t love her friends. But New Year’s Eve was meant for glittery cocktail dresses and handsome men dressed in tuxedos and waiters carrying trays of exotic hors d’oeuvres while a band played the kind of stuff Michael Bublé sang in the background.

Grace speared a fat strawberry onto a skewer, dipped it into the dark, velvety mixture, and wondered if a chocolate-covered strawberry still counted as a fruit serving or if it rolled over into the dessert category.

“This is so much better than sex,” Ellen said, pulling a chocolate-covered marshmallow out of the fondue pot.

“Nothing is better than sex,” Penny muttered. “Except maybe a cigarette.” Before anyone could say anything, Penny put both hands up in surrender. “Which I’m giving up! Again. It’s my New Year’s resolution.”

Ellen stuffed the chocolate marshmallow in her mouth. “I’m going on a diet. Starting tomorrow. Or rather, the day after tomorrow, since I plan to continue eating until well after midnight.”

“I’m going to journal,” Sarah said. “A lot of books on divorce therapy recommend it.”

“What about you, Grace?” Penny asked. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

“I don’t know. There are so many things I need to improve on, it’s a little daunting trying to narrow it down to just one or two. I know I want to learn to cook. But not that fancy stuff on TV. I want to cook what Mami makes, so that I can pass it down to my own kids. If I ever have any, that is.” She waited till the chocolate hardened on her strawberry before she took a nibble. “Ellen, tell us who you’ve been having mediocre sex with, so I can cross him off my potential boyfriend list.”

Sarah and Penny started giggling.

Grace smiled. “You didn’t think I was going to let that comment slide, did you? I love chocolate-covered marshmallows as much as the next girl, but better than sex? I don’t think so.”

Of the four of them, Ellen was the most secretive about her love life, but she now looked resigned to the fact that she was going to have to talk.

“You remember I told you about the IT guy who was revamping all the computers on campus? I went out with him a few times.”

“Ellen, I’m shocked!” Sarah said. “A
few
times? And you gave it up that easily? What happened to your ten-date rule?”

“The ten-date rule is only good if you actually go out ten times. I haven’t had more than four consecutive dates with the same guy in almost three years.”

“That’s because you’re not giving it up fast enough,” Penny said.

“Was it that bad?” Sarah asked.

Ellen reached for another marshmallow. “He was all right. But he certainly wasn’t—”

“Heathcliff!” the three of them shouted.

“Honestly, Ellen,” Grace said, “if you’re going to have a crush on a fantasy hero, why him?”

“I have to agree with Grace,” said Sarah. “What’s the fascination? Because I don’t get it. He’s, like . . . sadistic.”

“I know Heathcliff isn’t perfect,” Ellen said. “But nobody is, not
even
Mr. Darcy, which Grace would know all about since she has her own live version of him.” Grace started to protest but Ellen made a
shut it, you
gesture with her thumb and four fingers.

“You want to know what I love so much about Heathcliff? It’s not Heathcliff himself; you’re right when you say he’s over-the-top. What I love about
Wuthering Heights
is the unbelievable passion that he and Catherine shared. The feeling that there’s someone out there who is so utterly perfect for you, and you alone, that you feel that you’re actually
that person
. It’s like when Catherine says, ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’ ” Ellen paused. “Who wouldn’t want that? Even the title of the book tells it like it is.
Wuthering Heights
. Wild crazy passion. That’s what I want. And honestly, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life if I can’t have that kind of love.”

“Shit.” Sarah looked dazed by Ellen’s stirring speech. “And all this time I thought the title only referred to that creepy old estate. I need to read
Wuthering Heights
again!”

“I need to read it for the first time,” Grace said. And this time they all laughed, except for Penny, who had something suspiciously like tears in her eyes. Penny, who never cried for anything.

“Pen! What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“Butch asked me to marry him.” She looked at Grace, who encouraged her on with a smile. She was glad Penny was finally going to confide in Sarah and Ellen about Butch’s proposal.

“Penny!” Ellen squealed.

“I turned him down.”

“What?”
Ellen and Sarah said in unison.

Sarah shook her head. “I thought you loved Butch!”

“I do love him,” Penny said. “It’s just . . .” She shrugged and looked away.

Grace knew how hard it was for Penny to talk about her feelings. But she suddenly understood why Penny had turned down Butch’s proposal. It didn’t have anything to do with any bad karma Grace might have accidentally leaked out into the universe.

“Penny wants the big gesture, the grand passion. She wants . . . well, she wants Heathcliff,” Grace said.