Just Desserts (16 page)

Jake smiled.

The clear blue sky from earlier had clouded over. Sadie tucked her Brewers T-shirt into her chino shorts. She was glad she had thrown on a white oxford as a jacket at the last minute.

A royal blue canopy tent with a Cubs insignia on it took up one side of the rooftop space. She scanned the people gathered at the bar underneath the tent to find Quinn.

Clearly, she was in Cubs territory. Even the tables were covered with royal blue linens. On each, there was a floral centerpiece with a bright orange colored letter
C
sticking out of the center. “Where’s Quinn?”

Jake glanced around and pointed toward the corner of the roof. “There.”

She spotted Quinn in a circle of men, all as tall as him. She noticed he was dressed semi-casual: jeans, a white shirt and navy sport jacket. But the work buddies he spoke to were wearing business suits. “Those men look too serious for a baseball game.”

“They take baseball seriously. That gray-haired man is baseball commissioner Bud Selig and the other one, with the Buddy Holly specs, is the Brewers manager, Drew Estagio.”

Sadie scrutinized the party of people milling around or seated at the tables. The women, a minority, wore sleek sundresses and sported Vera Bradley handbags. Most of the men were in khakis and oxfords. She fumbled with the cuff of her suddenly too short shorts. “I’m clearly underdressed for the occasion.”

“Not at all. Come on, let’s get a beer. Your choice. Bud or Miller?”

She followed Jake and tried to keep her eyes on Quinn. He was in a deep discussion with the baseball big wigs. Jake handed her a pint glass of Miller.

“Thanks for the champagne of beers.” She took a sip.

Jake’s cell rang. “It’s my beautiful wife.”

Sadie really wished Suze was at the party. “Everything all right?”

Jake nodded and finagled his way out of the cluster of people standing around the bar and out from under the tent.

Sadie glanced around and didn’t see Quinn. Major league baseball’s royalty were still in deep conversation, but he wasn’t with them any longer. She spotted Quinn talking to a mousy-brown haired woman wearing a Cubs T-shirt. She had such a great figure; the unflattering sports T-shirt was enviously sexy. Sadie tucked in her faded cheddar-orange Brewer’s tee, to define her breasts a little better. She took a long drink of beer.

Quinn gave the woman a brief hug.

She had rushed from her appointment with her advisor in the city to get here before the game started and to see Quinn. Lucky enough, she found him working and flirting with another waitress.

To do something other than watch Quinn, she poked inside her bag for longer than necessary and then retrieved her phone. Sadie scrolled through her Twitter feed. When she looked up, Quinn and the pretty woman were standing in front of her. Sadie spotted the familial resemblance right away. “Oh. Hi.”

Quinn kissed her cheek. “Hey. You made it. Sadie, this is my sister, Emily. She owns the Wrigley Club.”

“I’m so glad you were able to make it. These guys are a bunch of stuffed shirts. They need to stop working and enjoy the game.” She shook Sadie’s hand and then looked her over from head to toe. “A Brewers fan. Happy to meet you. Love the retro logo of Bernie Brewer wearing a barrel.” She smiled at her brother. “Are we good? I have to make sure there are enough crackers out for the Brie.” She pivoted around and took off for the buffet tables lined with silver serving dishes.

“Your sister’s so young. This club is packed—her business is booming. Impressive. Any other successful Wrigley siblings?”

Sadie wondered if Emily actually bought the club or if it was a family heirloom passed to her. She cast the petty thought out of her brain. From the way Emily hustled around the buffet, she obviously worked hard.

“No. Just the three of us.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear. “Finally. I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Miss me?” she sighed.

“More than you know.”

Sadie leaned into him and relished his embrace. His omnipotent family be damned.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Laughton?” the bartender asked, interrupting their reunion.

“Just a Coke.”

“You’re not drinking? Not even a beer?” Sadie said.

“Too many conversations to finish before the end of the night.”

“What does that mean?” She took another sip of her beer.

“There are some work buddies here.”

“Work buddies? The baseball muckety-mucks?”

“I’m bidding on a job. For Estagio. He owns a house in the ‘burbs as big as the house in Lake Geneva. He wants it all LEED, eco-friendly and off the grid.” He sounded as excited as a kid in a candy shop. “I want it. I can orchestrate a geothermal heating system for it.”

“All of this came about this week?”

“I pitched my ideas to him last November. I’ve been waiting and talking with him all this week. He’s holding out on me. But I think it’s good.”

“Congratulations.”

“No congratulations, yet. Still haven’t heard his final decision.”

“I have some good news. I met with my advisor, Frank, today. And I’ve settled on my thesis topic. I wanted to analyze and compare three historical Chicago landmarks, but he convinced me to change directions. To focus more on the historical aspect of a block or a street.”

“There you are!” a man bellowed from behind her.

“Drew. Hello. I want you to meet—” Quinn started to say.

“We need to talk. I have to take off right after the game starts.” Drew turned abruptly and bumped into her.

“Sure. This is Sadie Maxon. I recently bought her family’s diner, Ms. Katie’s. The renovations will start early next year.”

Sadie wiped her hand free of spilt beer and wondered if she’d find a bruise on her shoulder. “As soon as the designs are okayed by the previous owner, Paul Maxon.”

Drew pushed up his geek-style glasses and glanced at Sadie as if she had just appeared from nowhere. Then he turned to face Quinn. “Sounds like another one of your projects that I have to see.”

Jerk.
“Ms. Katie’s and my mother’s cooking made the small diner famous in the Midwest. Quinn’s plans for the rehab are going to make it world renowned.” She shook Drew’s hand. “I’m overseeing some of the initial designs. When Quinn begins work, I’d be happy to arrange a time to give you a tour of it.”

“Thanks. As long as Quinn is present,” Drew said curtly.

Sadie gritted her teeth. “Of course.”

“We can discuss the Lake Country project downstairs, Drew. In the owner’s office.” Quinn stepped away from Sadie and let Drew pass in front of him. He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Be back by the second inning.”

“Sure.” She watched Quinn and Drew walk off. They stopped to talk to the baseball commissioner. The trio was an example of power and if she hadn’t known Quinn’s other side, she might have been intimidated. Actually, she was.

Sadie ordered a soda from the bartender. He glanced at her, but addressed the woman next to her and took her order first. Slightly miffed, Sadie ignored her thirst and searched for an open seat to watch the game. As the National Anthem played, she sat down with a couple of women, who nodded when she joined their table but didn’t bother to interrupt their conversation to say hello.

The game started and Sadie was agitated and bored. The Brewers weren’t hitting. The Cubs’ pitching was atrocious. And Quinn had blown her off. She made her way to the buffet to get a bite to eat.

“Hey!” someone shouted. “Hey, Ginger head.”

Sadie wondered who was being so obnoxious and turned around as she nibbled on a carrot stick.

A guy dressed in a suit and tie and as big as a wall closed in on her. From the raw red of his nose, he was clearly inebriated.

“Are you speaking to me?” she said and took another bite of the wavy carrot.

“I’m thirsty. Get me a drink, honey.”

“Sorry. I don’t work here.” She turned away to get a plate and pile some slices of red and green peppers onto it.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him.

“Get off of me.” She dropped the plate and it crashed onto the concrete ground. The pieces of china flew around her sandals. Sadie did a novice karate chop to break his hand away from her arm. “I’m going to get the bartender. He can kick you out.”

He slurred some degrading expletives and a few of his buddies surrounded him. They reined him into their fold. “He’s just a little drunk. Miss, do you think you can get him a cup of coffee?” one of the guys asked.

“No. I can’t. I don’t know where the kitchen is and I don’t work here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You might want to ask the bartender.”

She looked around and everyone seemed to be staring at her. She felt like a zoo attraction. The only guest with a T-shirt and shorts, and of course mistaken as a waitress. She glanced around for Quinn. Even Jake or Emily. She didn’t see them.

A crack sound echoed loudly from the field. A ball being slammed by a wooden bat. Someone hit a home run. A Brewer or a Cub. Sadie could have cared less. It grabbed the attention of everyone on the rooftop.
Thank God
.

Celebratory spotlights from the ballpark beamed across the cloudy gray sky. She spotted Jake in the crowd and strode up to him.

“Have you seen Quinn?”

“Not since the game started.”

“Can you tell him I had to get going?”

“Sure. Anything wrong? You look a little out of it.”

“Yeah, you could say that. I’ve been alone all night and then some jerk mistook me for a waitress. Not that I wouldn’t mind helping out your sister, but this crowd is a little stiff. And that Drew guy isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.”

“I think Quinn is downstairs in Emily’s office with him. He’s a prick. Why don’t you go bust down the door and drag my brother’s ass back up here?”

“Maybe.” She gave him a quick hug. “Say goodbye to him for me if I don’t succeed.”

“Sure.”

As she went downstairs, Sadie unbuttoned her oxford blouse to show off her vintage Brewers tee. At least she would fit in at the bar. The pub tables and bar stools were filled to capacity. She wandered toward the back of the club to find Emily’s office, but didn’t see any distinction on the doors to ascertain if it was an office.

When she spotted the ladies’ room, she stopped in to slap her cheeks and put color back into her face. She gave her reflection in the mirror a glance and then checked her elbow. “Damn asshole. I never thought of waitressing as a contact sport.” A woman stumbled in and Sadie exited.

Circling around the bar and through the sweaty crowd one more time, she saw Quinn in the poolroom talking to Drew. When she approached, Drew took off without acknowledging her. Quinn came up and hugged her. “Want to go watch the rest of the game together?”

“No. I think I’m going to head home.”

He drew his thumb across her trembling lower lip. “What’s the matter?”

She kissed the stubble along his jaw. “Nothing.”

“My ass nothing.” He nestled her against his chest. “What’s going on?”

“I’m feeling a little…sorry for the bad pun, but I’m feeling out of my league.”

He chuckled in her ear. “What happened?”

“There are too many people dressed for success upstairs. It’s like
Outliers
on the roof.” She dropped her head against his chest. “I should get home. Start on my dissertation while it’s still fresh in my head.”

He rubbed her arms.

“Ouch.”

“What’s the matter?” His words came out in worried rush.

“Oh nothing. Some drunk guy thought I was his waitress and grabbed me.”

“Are you all right? Did Emily kick him out?”

“Don’t freak. I shook him off and his buddies sequestered him.” She kissed him. “I think I’m going to take off.”

“Are you sure?’ He inspected her elbow and kissed it. “Are you positive you’re not hurt?”

“Yes. It’s my pride that’s wounded. I think I’m still readjusting to the city. I forgot about the bit of Chicago that I don’t appreciate, entitled boys like the guy who grabbed me. There are a lot like him around—the power-yielding dealers.”

“You’re…”

“I’m overreacting?”

“No. I wasn’t going to say that. I’m pissed. You’re too kind. I want to go find the asshole and have Emily throw him out. Or do it myself.”

She walked toward the door. “Thanks. You’re my hero.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“Don’t you have to finish with Drew?”

“Yes,” he spit out.

“Go work your contractor magic. You are a Wrigley so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Sadie left without kissing him goodbye. She wanted to get home and crawl into bed. Alone.

Chapter Eighteen

Sadie sifted through the stack of
Architectural Digest
magazines on the coffee table in front of her. She sipped her chai latte while deciding which one to read first. It was Saturday and she had all day and night to read the back issues and catch up on the pertinent home designs. She had to get going on her thesis and plenty of time to procrastinate.

She pulled out the spring issue highlighting Chicago and skimmed it over. The name Wrigley was printed in the table of contents and underneath it was the same photo Sadie had seen in
Chicago Magazine
—the shot of Quinn with the steamy Italian brunette. Sadie threw it back on the coffee table but it slid off and onto the Dhurrie rug. At least
she
wasn’t at last night’s clusterfuck.

Sadie more than regretted going to the baseball game. The party bugged her as did the asshole that thought she was his waitress. She rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed it.

She had treated Quinn so rudely when she left the Wrigley Club, Sadie wondered if he’d ever talk to her again. What a disaster. She played around with her cell and called him. He didn’t answer. “Not even voicemail? Who does that?”

It must have needled her more than she realized that Quinn hadn’t bothered to tell her about his prominent family. But that didn’t give her any right to lash out at him. He’d been pretty nice. But compared to Quinn, on the social stratum, she felt like the lowest layer of rock.