Hand-Me-Down Love Read online

  She set the oven at 375 and put the broccoli in the colander to rinse and drain. She shook the colander to get rid of most of the water before trimming and slicing the broccoli into long stems. It would take an hour and a half or so to roast the chicken, but she wanted everything as ready as possible ahead of time. Damn. She should have gotten some kind of rolls, she realized. Oh, well. It would be okay.

  About thirty minutes later, Sean walked back into the kitchen along with the scent of his aftershave. His stubble was gone and he was smooth shaven once again. That was good too, Marla thought appreciatively. What was she thinking? She had to stop this.

  “What would you like to drink?” Marla asked. “I got some wine.” She held up her glass.

  “I think I’ll make a whisky sour,” he said as he headed to the living room where she kept the hard liquor in a bar from the forties. When you opened the doors to the bar, it was complete with tumblers and shot glasses and Bakelite picks for olives and onions. It was from an estate sale in Mobile, and Marla had kept it for herself.

  When Sean came back to the kitchen, Marla said, “I’ve got the chicken in the oven and everything’s ready to go when it’s time. Do you wanna sit on the balcony for a few minutes, or is it too cold?”

  “It’s really not bad out,” he said. “I think it’s in the sixties right now. Let me grab a jacket.” When he came back he had on a brown jacket and held her jacket out to her. The balcony was a small space off of the living room and was surrounded with a wrought iron railing, like something you would see in New Orleans. Marla put her houseplants out there in the spring and summer and much of the fall before it got too cold. They settled in the white wicker chairs that had come with the place and set their drinks on a wicker glass-topped table in between.

  “That traffic in Atlanta is incredible,” Sean said as he took a sip of his drink. “I know I grew up there so I should be used to it, but I think it’s gotten even worse.”

  “I haven’t been to Atlanta in years,” Marla said. In fact, the last time she had been to Atlanta was nearly six years earlier when she and Meredith had gone on a wedding dress hunt. Meredith had not been able to find the “right” dress in Mobile. The sisters scoured the wedding shops in Atlanta for two days. Meredith tried on dress after dress. “This isn’t it, either,” she would say with a disgusting tone. “I think you’re turning into bridezilla,” Marla told her. She remembered the look Meredith had given her when she said that. And then Meredith laughed. And Marla laughed, and they couldn’t stop laughing. The saleslady came over and asked if everything was all right. They laughed even harder. When the trip was over, Meredith still didn’t have a dress, but she eventually found one in Mobile that she said was perfect. It was the last trip Marla and Meredith had taken together.

  The memory of that trip made her feel sad and teary. She didn’t mention any of it to Sean and tried to pull herself together. She took a sip of wine. They sat silently for a few minutes and Marla had no idea what was going through Sean’s mind.

  “There’s the big dipper,” he said. Marla peered up at the nighttime sky. “And the little dipper right above it to the right.” And there they were.

  “I’d better check on that chicken,” Marla said getting up. “You want anything?”

  “I’m okay,” Sean said. “Do you mind if I sit out here for a few more minutes?”

  “Of course not,” she said.

  The chicken had about thirty minutes to go, so it was time to start the broccoli and rice and make the salad. Marla set the stove on high and put a pan of water on to boil for the rice. She put a larger pot with a couple of inches of water in it to boil for the broccoli. While the two pots were heating up, she peeled the pear and sliced it into thin crescents, which she placed on top of leaf lettuce in white bowls. Slices of goat cheese finished the salad off. Then Marla realized she hadn’t made the dressing. Dammit, she thought. I’m not very organized tonight. The water boiled in the rice pot and she poured the basmati in, stirring it around, then put the lid back on and turned the stove down.

  While she was waiting on the bigger pot to boil, she grabbed her blue mixing bowl and squeezed in the juice of another lemon. Thankfully, there was enough olive oil, which Marla drizzled into the lemon juice while whisking furiously. By that time the water in the big pot was boiling, and she threw the broccoli in. It was going to be a miracle if everything came together at the right time, she thought. How did those fifties housewives do it?

  As she was placing the salads on the table, Sean came back in.

  “It’ll be ready in just a minute,” Marla said, looking up at him.

  “It smells great,” he said. “What can I do to help?”

  “Well, you could pour us some wine. I think everything else is ready.”

  She put on oven mitts and removed the chicken roaster from the oven.

  “You look like Betty Crocker with that apron on,” Sean said.

  “Let’s hope this meal is worthy of Betty Crocker,” Marla replied with a small laugh. She cut the roast chicken into pieces and put it on a large serving platter. Then she made plates with buttered rice, broccoli, and chicken and put them on the table. Finally, she sat down.

  “Whew!” she said. “It’s been a while since I cooked a whole meal.”

  The overhead kitchen light shone brightly on their meal. Marla spooned the citrus vinaigrette over her salad and handed the bowl to Sean.

  “Are those pears?” he said, a little suspiciously.

  “Yes. Don’t you like pears?”

  “I love pears. I’ve just never seen them in a salad before.”

  “I hope you like it,” Marla said.

  They started to eat their salads.

  “Do we have any candles?” Sean asked suddenly. “We need candles. This light is too bright.”

  “I’ll get them,” Marla said getting up. It did not pass her by that Sean had said “we.” She went to the china cabinet in the living room and took out two crystal candlesticks that had white tapers in them. She took them back to the table and set them in the center. “I’ve got some matches here somewhere,” she said rummaging through the kitchen catch-all drawer. She found a book of matches from Steamboat Joe’s and handed them to Sean. He struck a match and lit the candles while she turned off the overhead light.

  Sean was right. The candlelight was much more pleasant than the harsh kitchen light. As they finished their salad and moved on to the main meal, Sean began to talk about his trip to Atlanta. He told her about staying in his childhood room where nothing had changed since he left home for college. He said it was both comforting and weird. His mother made a full turkey dinner for the Christmas meal and he ate so much he thought he was going to be sick. Marla told him about visiting her parents, but she didn’t mention the undecorated tree.

  The conversation flowed easily between them as they ate the chicken dinner and kept their wine glasses filled. Sean refilled his plate when he had finished the first helping. “This is really good,” he said as he sat back down. “Really good. Thanks for making it.”

  When the meal was over, Sean picked up their plates and put them in the sink. “How about some music?” he asked. Marla nodded. “That sounds good,” she said. He went into the living room and a few minutes later the sounds of U2 streamed through the apartment. Marla decided to do the dishes so they wouldn’t be waiting for her in the morning. When she was finished, she turned off the kitchen light and walked out of the room. Sean was coming back into the kitchen and they bumped into each other.

  “Sorry,” he said laughing. “Didn’t mean to knock you over.”

  Marla was laughing, too. The wine seemed to have gone to her head and she felt a little unsteady on her feet. “You need some help there?” Sean said taking her elbow. He led her to the couch and settled in beside her. He had turned off the lamps in the room and the hall light was the only illumination. He reached over and took her hand. “I missed you while I was gone,” he said.

  “I missed you
, too,” Marla replied, wondering where this was going, what was happening. “I guess we’ve gotten used to each other.”

  “Yes,” he said. And the next thing she knew, Sean was pulling her toward him and he turned his body to her. He turned her face to his and leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back. She knew it was wrong, but she kissed him back.

  Sean pushed her back on the couch as he kissed her. He lay beside her and moved his hands under her skirt. She let him. He rubbed her between her legs and she felt his hardness on her thigh, pressing, pressing. He tugged on her panties and she was glad she had put on her lacy pair. He began to pull her panties down and she reached for the button on his jeans. It released easily and she pulled his zipper down. He had no underwear on and he was smooth and hard and pressing against her.

  He pulled her sweater over her head. She didn’t have a bra on and her breasts were bare. Sean moved his mouth down her throat and to her breasts. He caressed their fullness and put his mouth over her nipples, one, then the other. She still had her skirt on, but it was around her waist. No time to deal with that. Sean got fully on top of her and she spread her knees, welcoming him. He entered her. They moved together and found a rhythm that took them both to climax in a few moments.

  When it was over, Sean pulled away from her and sat back on the couch. He still had his shirt on but he was bare below that. Marla sat up and pulled her skirt back down. She sat bare-chested on the couch beside Sean.

  “I’m sorry, Marla,” he said.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she replied.

  “Was that okay that I did that?” he asked, looking at her.

  “Yes,” she said decidedly, smiling at him. It was so okay, she thought. She knew it would probably be considered inappropriate that they did that, but she didn’t care.

  Sean pulled Marla to his chest and they sat that way for a few minutes listening to the music. Marla finally got up and said it was late and they should go to bed. Sean stood and wrapped her in his arms. “Can I come to bed with you?” he asked. And she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. Lucy was already asleep on top of the bedspread. Marla pulled back the covers and Lucy woke up and jumped down to the floor. “Sorry, girl,” Marla said. “You can get back up in a minute.”

  Marla was still bare-breasted and Sean still had no pants on. She stripped off her skirt and he took off his shirt and they crawled nude into bed. Marla turned off the bedside lamp and felt Lucy jump onto the end of the bed. The cat seemed to know not to come up closer. She drew Sean to her and they kissed deeply. Their hands were all over each other, rubbing on each other, then rubbing with their full bodies. Sean entered her again. They moved together, reaching a crescendo simultaneously.

  Afterward, Sean lay back on his pillow and Marla lay back on hers. They didn’t talk, and a few minutes later Marla heard Sean’s steady breathing and knew he was asleep. She would leave the analysis of everything for later, she thought as she fell asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  She woke up with Lucy’s face right in front of her face. “Okay, girl,” she said. She looked over to the other side of the bed, and Sean was still asleep. He looked peaceful. Marla got up and went into the bathroom for her robe. Lucy followed her to the bathroom and then to the kitchen. The calico rubbed herself around Marla’s ankles as she poured the food into her bowl. Marla went back to bed and crept beneath the covers. But she couldn’t get back to sleep.

  Is this what Merrie meant? she asked herself. Is this how she wanted me to look after Sean? Was what they had done last night okay? Marla wasn’t dumb. She knew that most of the world would consider what they had done was not okay. But it felt so right, she thought. How could it be wrong?

  Sean began to move around. Marla turned on her side to look at him as he stirred. He opened his gray eyes and looked at her. She looked back. Was he thinking what they had done was wrong? Would he get weird about it?

  But he didn’t. He reached out for her and touched her arm. She put her hand on his hand. Neither one spoke. Marla broke the silence. “Do you want some coffee? And breakfast?” she said.

  “That sounds great,” he said sleepily. “But let me help you.”

  “Okay. I’ll start the coffee and then we can figure the rest out. I’m not sure what’s in there.”

  She got up and went into the kitchen to start the coffee. A few minutes later, Sean came in wearing his robe. He opened the refrigerator. “I’ll make fried eggs,” he said. “And we’ve got some bread for toast. Does that sound good?”

  She walked over to him. “That sounds good,” she said. “I’m starving.”

  He reached for her and she put her head against his chest. It was warm and she wanted to stay there forever.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked over the top of her head.

  “Everything is just fine,” she said. And she tilted her head up to look at him. He bent down to kiss her. When they finally pulled away, she was almost panting with desire for him. She wanted to go back to bed.

  She walked over to the coffee pot and poured him a cup. He breathed in the aroma and took a sip. “You sit down and let me take care of breakfast,” he said, leading her to the table. And she sat there drinking her coffee and cream and watching Sean fry eggs and make toast. He rooted around in the refrigerator and found a jar of homemade blackberry jam one of Marla’s customers had given her for Christmas. He put butter on the table, then brought her a plate with two fried eggs medium, as she had requested, and toast. She buttered the toast and spread it with jam. He brought his plate over and sat down. They ate and it was good. Sean pushed his toast through the egg left on the plate and so did she.

  Sean put the dishes in the sink when they were done and ran hot water and squirted dishwashing liquid over the plates. He sat back down at the table.

  “Is this weird?” he asked.

  “I guess a little,” Marla admitted. “But I’m not sorry about it.”

  “Me either,” Sean said. He looked at her and smiled. He sounded sure of himself and Marla believed him.

  “Should we talk about it?” Marla asked.

  “Probably,” he said. “But let’s not.”

  That was fine with Marla.

  The rest of the week, Sean and Marla went on day trips. The visited Bellingrath Gardens near Mobile one day, but it was the middle of winter and there wasn’t much to see of the famous gardens. They drove to Fort Morgan on the coast and watched a Civil War reenactment. Some days they watched TV and decided their favorite show was “Two and a Half Men.” Every evening, Sean took Marla to dinner. They drank wine and talked and laughed together in the restaurants. Anyone looking at them would have thought they were a couple in love.

  And Marla was falling in love, though she tried not to. Tried to reason everything through. It crossed her mind more than once that Sean was looking at her as a replacement for Meredith. But he seemed happy. They were having such a good time together. Every night when they got home from whichever restaurant they had visited, they fell into bed together, holding on to each other, giving each other love and comfort. Lucy had gotten used to sharing the bed with Sean and kept her distance. She waited until they had made love to jump on the bed. Good girl, Marla thought. Good girl.

  On New Year’s Eve, Sean left the apartment for a while and came back with two bottles of champagne. They chilled them and uncorked one early in the evening and the other one close to midnight. As the ball fell on Times Square, they toasted each other.

  The shop would open the day after New Year’s and Marla was sorry she had to get back to it. Not that she didn’t love what she did, but she wouldn’t be spending every day with Sean anymore. Just thinking about it made her miss him. When January 2nd arrived, she forced herself out of bed while Sean lay sleeping.

  A few minutes before ten, Jada opened the front door and they were open for business. It would probably be a slow day since it was after the holidays and everyone was shopped out. It was a good time of year to scope out estate sales and y
ard sales. Sometimes, you could find something rare at a yard sale, something that just the right customer was looking for.

  “Did you have a good holiday?” Marla asked Jada.

  “It was all right,” she said. “I went to my aunt’s house in Mobile.”

  Marla realized then that she didn’t really know that much about Jada, even though they had been working together for over three years. She felt bad about that. She really should be more attentive.

  Marla and Jada spent the morning going through the shop and dusting and finally moving things around to make them more attractive to the customers.

  “I think it might be good if we set up more scenes,” Jada said. “You know, like rooms in a house. Set stuff up on tables, put chairs around. Make a scene.”

  Marla laughed. “Yes, let’s make a scene,” she said.

  “I didn’t realize what I said,” Jada said giggling.

  Around lunchtime, Sean came into the shop. “How about I take y’all out for lunch?” he said. The three of them walked down the street to Steamboat Joe’s, which was open for business after being closed the entire week like the shop. They ordered oysters on the half shell for appetizers, along with crab legs. Sean ordered seafood platters all around for the entrée and they hungrily dipped the fried shrimp and fried fish into tartar sauce and popped them into their mouths.

  “Too bad it’s a work day. We could get some beer or something,” Sean said.

  “It’s a slow day,” Marla said. I think we could go for a pitcher. Sean ordered a pitcher of draft beer.

  “I guess we’re still in holiday mode,” Jada said. She was smiling and laughing and having a good time.

  “I feel terrible,” Jada said suddenly. “Derrick is supposed to get there at one and we won’t even be there.” She pulled her phone from her purse. “I’m gonna call him right now,” she said decisively.