Baby Kisses Page 4

  "I got some sandwiches already made, honey pie."

  Chapter 8: New York, New York

  Miles' mood didn't improve the next day. He couldn't even stand being around himself. He rolled his chair to his bedroom window and watched Tooty playing with Harris in the plastic blow-up pool she'd bought. The only bright spot in this new situation was that now Tooty got to spend time with Harris and didn't look tired and overworked anymore. Maybe his mood was crappy, but it still made him feel good to have helped them. He'd already contacted his attorney to set up two trust funds. He hadn't told Tooty, however, because he knew her pride would make her object. He intended to convince her that his latest novel wouldn't be as exciting without her input. He'd make her feel like she'd earned the trust fund money; which she damn well had.

  Miles watched Tooty jump up from sitting in the pool with Harris and his breath caught. Her body was beautiful. No longer a teenager's body, she had the curves of a woman after putting on weight now that she wasn't working day and night. Her unbound hair, wet and darkened by the water, stuck to her face and graceful neck. Harris grabbed one of her shapely legs and she pretended to fall back in the pool. Miles smiled and imagined himself whole and playing with them, lifting Tooty into his arms and then plopping her in the water; then doing the same with Harris. His dream only lasted a second before he shoved away from the window, feeling a soul pain worse than physical pain.

  Rolling to his bed, he hoisted out of his chair and tumbled across it. Slapping his arm over his eyes, he allowed his thoughts to turn morose—dark night, curving road, laughing friends, car on the wrong side of the road, horrible sounds of metal against metal, blackness, screams, pain, and then no pain. After that, dead friends, months of rehab, more pain, football career forever lost, aching loneliness and solitude. After the second year, he'd even gone so far as to lift enough pills to his mouth to forever release his emotional pain. With the glass to his lips, he hadn't been able to follow through. After spitting out the pills, he'd gone into a three day crying jag. After that, he'd asked his sister to take him for a walk in Central Park. When they'd returned, he'd dusted off his computer, fired it up, and started writing. If he couldn't play football, he could write. Writing had been his other passion.

  Just as he drifted to sleep his cell phone rang, jerking him back to reality. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the caller ID. "Hello Mighty Agent, what's up?"

  "I'm calling to see how the final chapter is coming along. I read the rewrite of the escape scene…totally scintillating. You're going to have women hounding you to make love to them."

  "Lucky them," Miles replied sarcastically.

  "The other reason I'm calling is because the publisher and the movie team want to have a joint powwow over several days. Hash out who the screenwriter will be and go over loose ends. Your presence is mandatory; mine is too."

  "When is all this supposed to happen?"

  "The sooner the better. The dates are in your ballpark. Think you might be able to come in the next two weeks?"

  Miles puffed air, "Yeah, sure. I'll call you tomorrow with specific dates."

  "Okay, sounds good. Hey, you okay? You sound a little down in the dumps."

  "I'm fine. Just want to get the book finished and take a vacation. Maybe spend time at my villa in France."

  "I can relate to that. Janet's going to divorce me if we don't go on vacation soon. Well, okay, I'll wait for your call tomorrow. Oh, by the way, it was a great idea you had to finish the book in Colorado. Must be peaceful and quiet because you've been sending in some terrific stuff."

  Miles heard Harris slam through the front door yelling for his mother to catch him.

  "Yeah, it's a great place to write," he responded, and winced when Tooty yelled, "I'm comin' ta get ya and throw ya back in the pool!"

  * * *

  Tooty picked up Annabelle's diary. It was late and Harris was sleeping with his new Happy Horse hugged to his chest. She guessed Miles was asleep, but maybe he was writing. He'd turned into a recluse, only coming out of his room to go to the bathroom or eat, and occasionally get some air on the front porch. He had retreated into a shell, unlike the man who had directed and helped with repairs on her house. She wanted to help him break out of his funk, but she didn't know how.

  Sighing sadly, she opened the fragile book to where she had left off reading.

  Pa laid the man on the bed and we girls set about cleaning him up. He was burning with fever and the smell of his wounds made us gag. His black hair was all knotted and had grown shaggy below his shoulders. Lorrie found an old nightshirt of Pa's and we did what had to be done in undressing and cleaning him. He was skinny like a starving person. Maddie heated water and we washed him with the special soap Pa had bought for Ma one Christmas. I had to remove his nasty bandages and he whimpered in pain. It broke my heart. We put a special salve on the wounds that we use on humans and animals when there is infection. Afterward, we wrapped his stumps, covered him in newly washed blankets, and stoked the fire. He seemed to rest better after that. No one knew his name when Pa picked him up.

  Tooty swiped her eyes and sniffed.

  Monday, March 6, 1865

  I sat in the rocker by the fire most of the night watching the soldier. I had to keep wetting rags to cool his raging fever. While I was lifting his head off the pillow to change the pillowcase because it was soaked from his sweat, he opened his eyes and looked into mine. In the firelight, his eyes were blue flames. Never have I seen such a beautiful shade. He just looked at me and whispered, "You must be an angel." I'll never forget his look.

  The next few pages detailed daily care of "blue eyes" as Annabelle now referred to him. Tooty set the diary back in her nightstand drawer. As hard as it was, she'd determined that she needed to follow Beatrice's instructions and not read too much in one sitting. She intended to respect her wishes.

  The next day, while Harris was down for his nap, Miles rolled into the living room. She was so happy to see him she smiled brilliantly and jumped away from her desk. "Let me get you a cup of coffee, Miles."

  "Okay."

  "Have you been getting lots of work done? You've sure been in your room a lot. Would you like to sit on the porch and drink your coffee? I'll join you if you want."

  "You know, that sounds nice."

  He rolled toward the front door, opened it, and pushed onto the porch while Tooty poured coffee for them. He liked a little real cream in his and she made it to perfection. She poured lots of cream in hers. On the porch, she sat in the swing and pushed back and forth with her foot. Sipping their coffees, they gazed at tall pines, fluffy clouds, a soaring hawk, and enjoyed a tender breeze. Miles broke the silence. "I have to return to New York for awhile."

  Tooty's heart sank. "How long will you be gone?"

  "I'm not sure. My publisher and the movie moguls want to have a joint meeting and work out all the unresolved issues. Heck, we're still fighting over the name of the book."

  "Goodness. What do you want the title to be?"

  "I'm not exactly sure. I've been thinking Escape at Midnight might work. It's actually the last book I'm writing in this series. After six, I'm tired of it. I want to try something totally different. Believe it or not, I'd like to write a comedy."

  "Oh wow. That never would have crossed my mind. Umm…I hope that didn't sound rude. It's just that you're so good at writing suspense thrillers I'd never have guessed you'd want to write a comedy. Of course, whatever you write will be wonderful," she added in a rush.

  Miles chuckled, "Tooty, you have a very nice way of being diplomatic. Thank you. It may or may not be wonderful, but I'll never know unless I give it a shot. But getting back to the title of my book, what do you think would be appropriate?"

  Tooty responded immediately, "Anja."

  "You think I should give it the name of Mac's romantic interest?"

  "Actually, she's not his romantic interest. The way you're going with the storyline, she's his soul mate, counterpart, other half."

>   "Tooty, you are an incorrigible romantic. Okay, I'll consider naming the book Anja."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  Tooty grinned and then asked, "So, when do you think you'll leave?"

  "In about a week."

  "Harris and I will miss you," she said shyly.

  Miles lifted his cup to his lips and then brought it back to his knee, tapping the side of it with his index finger. He seemed lost in thought.

  Tooty watched a second hawk soar into sight and now the two birds flew together in a lovely arc.

  "Have you ever been to New York, Tooty?"

  "Goodness, no. The furthest I've been is Los Angeles when I was a kid. Mostly, all I remember is freeways and my mother yelling at my father to watch out for all the crazy California drivers."

  Miles didn't respond and Tooty glanced at him.

  Unexpectedly, he asked, "Would you and Harris like to come to New York with me? I still need a personal assistant."

  "I thought you already had an assistant in New York."

  "I do, but she has family issues at the moment and needs time off."

  Tooty's heart jumped. "I..I.."

  "What?"

  Embarrassed, she looked at her hands and chewed her lip. "I don't have money for plane tickets."

  Miles shook his head. "Do you really think I would make you pay for your own tickets? I asked you to come. I'll take care of all the costs."

  "But Harris isn't an employee."

  "No, but his mother is, and she needs to be able to concentrate on my needs…er business, and Harris needs to be with her for her to do that."

  Excitement tinged Tooty's response. "You really want us to go?! That would be so cool. I love the song New York, New York. I'll work really hard for you."

  Chapter 9: Harebrained Idea

  The plane had been in the air an hour and Harris had not stopped talking for more than two minutes. Miles closed his eyes and berated himself for having invited Tooty and Harris to New York. What were you thinking? He answered his own question. You weren't.

  "Mister Brightperson, are we almost there?" Harris asked for the fortieth time from his seat behind Miles' special accommodations in first class.

  Tooty said, "Brightman, Harris, not Brightperson."

  "No, son, not yet." Even in his irritation, Miles couldn't help but grin at the excitement in the child's voice.

  "I gotta go to the bathroom, Mommy," Harris yelled loud enough so that the passengers in coach could hear him.

  "Okay, Harris. Let's go."

  After they returned, Harris said, "Mister Brightperson, are we almost there yet?"

  * * *

  Tooty held Harris' hand and followed Miles through the maze of airport traffic. Both she and her son were stunned speechless at the enormity and grandeur of JFK International. Miles was talking to someone on his cell phone. He said goodbye and then stopped his wheelchair. "This way is baggage claim."

  Tooty and Harris followed him in the rush of passengers headed in the same direction. While they waited for the conveyor to start its circular motion, Miles explained, "My driver is waiting outside the terminal. He'll take us to my penthouse and you'll have the remainder of the day to unpack and rest, and tonight my parents and a friend are coming to dinner."

  "There's ours, Mommy!" Harris yelled, and pointed to two faded yellow suitcases that Tooty had bought for a few bucks at a garage sale. She lifted the luggage off the conveyor. A few minutes later, Miles lifted his expensive black leather one with telescoping handles. He set it on his lap. "Put Harris' suitcase on top of mine. It's small enough."

  Tooty did as he asked and then, holding Harris' hand while pulling her old suitcase on its wobbly wheels behind her, followed Miles as he pushed the lever on his wheelchair and started forward. After a long walk past airport shops and through bustling crowds focused on reaching their next destinations, they finally exited the terminal.

  Miles paused and scanned a line of limousines. "There's my driver." He pointed toward a tall, skinny, older man with slicked down gray hair peeking from beneath his chauffeur's cap. The distinguished looking driver hastened toward them.

  "Good afternoon, sir. It's good to see you again. I trust you had a pleasant flight." The chauffeur glanced at Tooty and Harris standing beside Miles.

  "Yes, very nice. It's good to see you, too, Harvey. I'd like you to meet Miss Tooty Townsend and her son Harris. Tooty is my personal assistant in Colorado. She'll be working for me while we're in New York. Tooty, this is Harvey Frankowitz. You'll meet Myrna, his wife, at the house."

  Harvey bowed slightly. "My pleasure, Ms. Townsend. He looked at Harris. "It's a pleasure meeting you, too, Harris."

  A movement beyond the backseat window of the limousine caught everyone's attention and Harvey reached to open the door. Tooty watched a pair of slim, shapely legs and shiny red heels, swing toward the curb and a woman of exotic beauty step to the sidewalk. "Hello, Miles. I'm so happy you're home. I hope you don't mind that I came along to meet you. God, I've missed you." She bent and lightly grazed his lips, lingering a second, and then slid her finger across his mouth to remove her lipstick.

  "Hello, Monica. I'd like you to meet Tooty Townsend and Harris."

  Still bending over Miles, she turned her head to scan them from head to toe. Rising, she walked toward Tooty and stretched out her hand. "I'm pleased to meet you. Miles has told me about you and Harris. When he left for the Wild West, I just knew he'd have to hire a personal assistant. My name is Monica Newport, and I guess you could say I'm sort of a personal assistant, too. I love helping Miles." She shook Tooty's hand and her eyes conveyed the true meaning behind her words.

  "I'm happy to meet you, ma'am."

  Monica smiled, but there was no warmth in her eyes. "You must call me Monica." She looked at Harris and he stepped behind his mother's legs. "And you're Harris. What a cute little boy, you are."

  Tooty pulled Harris from behind her. "Say hello to Ms. Newport, Harris."

  Shyly, Harris said, "Hello. You got really red lips."

  "Harris!" Tooty scolded.

  "Sorry." Harris looked at the ground.

  Tooty noticed Miles' lips twitch, like he was trying not to laugh. Secretly, she agreed with Harris, the woman's lipstick was redder than a fire engine.

  Harvey punched his key fob and the trunk flipped open. Harris shouted, "Cool!" Pulling his mother's hand he dragged her until they could watch the driver loading the baggage. After that, Harvey assisted everyone into the limo and then loaded the wheelchair in the trunk.

  During the drive through New York traffic, Tooty sent surreptitious glances at Miles and Monica. Was she his girl friend? Jealousy twisted her gut and she chastised herself. He's too old for you, anyway. Besides that, he wouldn't give you a second glance.

  Monica reached to smooth a lock of Miles' coffee colored hair and Tooty's stomach dropped to the floor. She concentrated on Harris, his head swinging back and forth between all the windows trying to take in everything—crowds, vendors, cabs, limousines, billboards, tall buildings, glittery storefronts.

  * * *

  Miles was relieved when Harvey pulled the limo to the entrance of his building. Monica's constant touching was starting to irritate him. The doorman hastened to page a porter while Harvey unloaded the wheelchair and helped Miles into it. After the porter had loaded a cart with their belongings, Miles led the group to the elevator that would take them to his penthouse.

  Secretly, he smiled at the amazement on Tooty's face as she towed an excited Harris alongside. It was silly, but he was proud to show what years of hard work had accomplished. Although born into wealth, he had insisted on becoming successful on his own terms. For years, he had lived in a small flat while writing his novels and hoping for a break. That break had materialized when he was twenty-five with his first bestseller. After that, there had been three more hits and then he'd started the Mac Righteous series. He almost smiled at the irony of possibly writing his best selling no
vel to date in a humble home in the woods of Colorado.

  During the elevator ride, Monica kept her hand possessively on his shoulder. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was jealous of Tooty.

  Harvey's wife, Myrna, met them at the door and he made introductions. The full-figured woman said, "I'm so happy you're back, sir. I'm making one of your favorite foods for dinner, Shrimp Tortellini." She looked at Tooty and Harris. "And please call me Myrna. When you're ready, I'll show you to your room. It's lovely and has wonderful views. You must be tired from your long flight."

  Tooty said, "Thank you," and glanced at Miles.

  He said, "You rest and unpack. Why don't we meet in the living room at five? After dinner I'll show you around the apartment and the office you'll use while you're here."

  "Okay."

  Miles watched her smile sweetly, reach for Harris' hand, and follow Myrna. His heart thumped at her smile. He glanced up to see Monica watching him. He said, "So, tell me what you've been up to, love." She warmed at his endearment and followed him into the library.

  * * *

  Tooty followed Myrna into a magnificent bedroom. It wasn't overly large, but it looked like a glossy from a designer magazine. Harris ran to the floor to ceiling windows. "Wow!" he shouted. "We're way up high!"

  "You certainly are. This is the sixty-fifth floor." Myrna pointed, "And there's the Empire State Building."

  Tooty gazed over the city, happy that she and Harris would have an adventure to talk about for the rest of their lives.

  Harris giggled, "The cars are so tiny down there."

  Myrna said, "Wait until tonight. The view is wonderful."

  Tooty turned from the window. "This room is amazing."

  "Yes, Mr. Brightman has exquisite taste. He worked closely with Ms. Newport. She was the interior designer."

  Tooty kept a smile plastered on her face, but felt her stomach drop again. The sophisticated Monica who had captured Miles attention, was also a successful career woman. She glanced back around the room and didn't like it so much anymore. It had a kinda cold feeling.