Just Her Type (21 page)

“Details, details, pshaw!” Kendra replied.

“And why not practice on something less
expensive?”
 
Aunt Jackie said.
“Maybe an acrylic blend? We have some nice ones.”

Kendra basked in Selena’s and Alyssa’s wide-eyed
awe. “Nope! Bring on that cashmere/silk blend!”

***

Later that same night,
Dominic phoned Kendra from his hotel room in Cincinnati, Ohio. Earlier that
day, he had been a keynote speaker at a regional writers’ conference.

“You’re not going to believe what’s on now,” he
told her as he sat on a king-sized bed with his back against the cushioned
headboard. “A marathon of
The Alternate
Dimension Theater
on the SyFy Channel.
 
I checked the episode guide. One guess which episode is next?”

“’Deja You,’” they said at the same time.

“How about we watch right now with our own
commentary,” he said. “Or did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, you didn’t,” Kendra said. “That sounds like
fun! I’m grabbing a beer and the remote and moving to the sofa in front of the
TV. Sorry, I didn’t get back to you after you called.
 
I spent most of the day at The Sassy
Sheep, hanging out with my friends.”

“Your sit-and-knit group?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time?” Dominic asked, knowing
Selena Clark was in that group.

“I did,” Kendra said with an easy lilt in her
voice. “And I’m working on a top secret project.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Dominic replied, relaxing.
Either his name had not come up or Kendra had decided not to hold anything
against him. What were the chances that Selena was over the
Desperate Passages
thing?

“When do you head back this way?” Kendra asked.

“Miss me?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation, making him
smile wider.

“I have one more day in the Queen City.”

Norman Butterfield appeared on the TV screen
before Dominic could make plans for their next date. They spent the next half
hour reciting dialogue and swapping episode trivia that only the nerdiest of
diehard
The Alternate Dimension Theater
fans would know.

“I can’t watch that episode too many times,”
Kendra said after the credits rolled.

“So,” Dominic said, his voice dropping with
seduction in mind. His hand slipped inside his sweatpants. “What are you
wearing?”

Back in her Brooklyn apartment, Kendra considered
his question and looked down at her favorite holiday jammies, a
hooded-and-footed onesie with stripes that made her look like a giant candy
cane. Underneath: cotton Fruit of the Loom Ladies. Full coverage fit.

“What am I wearing?” she replied with a sexy coo.
“I don’t think you can handle it.”

“Try me.”

She put the remote aside. “Imagine, Chantilly
lace, in cherry red,” she purred. “Push-up demi cups.”

“Front or back closure?”

“Front, for easy access of course. A flirty satin
ribbon that practically unties itself.”

Dominic released a husky groan. “Mercy. What else
you got for me, baby?”

His gruff voice made her sizzle. She removed the
hood from her head and slowly unzipped the onesie. Reclining on the sofa, she
parted her knees and continued, “Picture V-string panty, garter, and your
hands…”

Chapter 26

Three days later, Kendra
went to Aunt Jackie’s home after work so they could have dinner together. She
brought take-out shrimp fried rice, soda for her aunt, and beer for herself,
along with DVDs of two critically acclaimed comedies.

 
During
most of their evenings together, Aunt Jackie repeated the story of Uncle Alex’s
death and how she’d come home from work that day and found him.
 
She’d stare across the room and begin
with what she was wearing and move on to when she’d felt the slightest inkling
something was “off.” She’d stepped inside the quiet condo and found the uneaten
breakfast, “two slices of rye toast, two thick bacon strips, and two
soft-boiled eggs, heavily sprinkled with pepper, no salt, the way he preferred
them, under a grease-stained paper towel.” Her heart had stopped when she found
her husband collapsed on the bathroom floor he’d prepared to re-tile. She’d
relive her brief rush of relief when she’d detected a pulse in his neck, only
to soon realize it was the pulse in her own fingertips. The love of her life
was gone. Forever.

Kendra didn’t understand why, of all the stories
to share about Uncle Alex, her aunt needed to retell such a grim tale in
painstaking detail over and over again. But Kendra had resolved to be there for
her. She’d listen intently, always as if hearing it for the first time. She’d
embrace her aunt and hold her hand. If rehashing one of the most devastating
days of her life brought some modicum of comfort or relief, Kendra was willing
to listen to that story hundreds of times. Perhaps it was Aunt Jackie’s way of
accepting the sad reality of her new circumstances, her way of absorbing the
shock of it all so she could eventually move forward.

Kendra vowed to leave this woman who meant the
world to her smiling that evening.

She stepped inside the home to find a fire and a
lamp-lit living room, fresh poinsettias, and appetizing aromas from the
kitchen.

Overstuffed furniture, knitting books, and
patterns neatly lined the shelves.
 
Stacked bins, bins, and more bins filled with yarn neatly lined the
walls. Knitting knickknacks and doodads sat on every surface.

“Hey!” Kendra placed her bag of food on the coffee
table so the two of them could hug. “Something smells wonderful?” she said,
sniffing the air.

“Surprise!” Aunt Jackie’s soft curls caressed
Kendra’s cheek. The severe chignon was gone again. “And your timing is perfect.
It’s almost done.”

“I think I know that aroma. Wait. Don’t tell me.”
Kendra made a dramatic show of sniffing again and pretending the scent stumped
her. “It’s been so long, but I think I recognize it. What could it be? Could it
be posole?”

“Yes!”

The delicious spicy pork shoulder and hominy soup
was one of Aunt Jackie’s specialties and among Kendra’s favorites. Her aunt
hadn’t cooked anything from scratch since Uncle Alex died.

“This means you’re not peeved at me about what
happened at the yarn shop the other day.” As Kendra tugged off her gloves and
stuffed them inside her coat pocket, she noted several afghan squares pinned to
a large blocking board on the floor.

“You mean, about the sweater?”

Kendra nodded. “About my not taking your advice.”

“You’ve always been very sweet, but hardheaded.”
She gave Kendra’s noggin a thump, as she’d often done when Kendra was a child.
“Girl, I’m used to you.”

“And you still love me, warts and all!” Kendra
cheeped. “Hey, the fireplace is on!”

After years of hauling, stacking wood, and
cleaning up ash, Uncle Alex had revamped the old wood-burning fireplace just a
few days before he died. But as far as Kendra knew her aunt had not used the
renovated fireplace until that evening.

“I thought it fitting to christen it with you,”
Aunt Jackie said.

Kendra admired the flickering simulated flames.
“Very realistic looking and the room is nice and toasty.” The small mirror with
red pin-points of light blinking around images of Joseph, Mary, and the Baby
Jesus, one of Uncle Alex’s favorite Christmas decorations, sat on the mantel.
He’d had a fondness for the cheesiest religious bric-a-brac, Kendra recalled
with a melancholy smile.

“Alex told me it was a new radiant heat variety.”

 
“Well,
all right then, fancy-schmancy!” Kendra removed her parka and hat to store in
the nearby closet, still filled with Uncle Alex’s winter coats. “I’ll put the
takeout and drinks in the fridge.”

Aunt Jackie went to the kitchen to check on her
simmering stockpot. When she opened the refrigerator to remove a cabbage to
chop, Kendra noticed plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. It had also been a
while since Aunt Jackie kept a full fridge.

Kendra stored the drinks and takeout and then
munched on tostada shells on the counter with additional garnishes for the
posole.
 
Brown grease no longer
speckled the backsplash tiles near the stove. Over the last two years, when her
aunt wasn’t looking, Kendra had made a habit of cleaning them, along with the
dryer’s overstuffed lint shoot and bathtub’s scum-mottled mat. However, that
evening, everything sparkled again, with no effort on her part. Like old times.

Kendra moved to pour herself a tall glass of the
tea from the large container on an opposite counter.

“Don’t drink that!” Aunt Jackie said.

“Why? It looks like iced tea.”

“Hawaiian tea.
 
I bought it from Sidewinder on my way
home. I was about to pour it down the drain when you arrived.”

Bernie “Sidewinder” Smith, an unlicensed street
vendor, conducted “business” near The Sassy Sheep.
 
Kendra now noted the unidentified bits
floating in the drink. The jar’s small hand-scrawled label required a skull and
crossbones. Her kind-hearted aunt often purchased items she would neither
consume nor use to help those less fortunate.

“I’ll have one of my
store-bought
beers,” Kendra said, moving to the drawer with the
bottle opener. “So what’s
Hawaiian
tea exactly?”

“I think it’s just pineapple juice he fresh
squeezes, mixes with Snapple, and bottles in his apartment.”

“And charges you five times what he paid for both.
Two months ago it was moldy sour dough pretzels. Last month it was hot dogs
swimming in dirty water. This month, foodborne bacteria by the two-gallon jar.
Way to hustle, Sidewinder. Make that paper,” Kendra said cheekily.
“Ka-ching!”
 
She went to the table
and the hardcover knitting book full of sweaters with elaborate color work. She
sat and flipped through its glossy pages while sipping her beer. The diagrams
and instructions might as well have been in Sanskrit.
 
A yellow sticky note clung to the page
with a sun-burnished male model in a cowboy hat. He resembled the Marlboro Man
and wore a beautiful seamless raglan pullover sweater in rich mocha.

“Is this your next project?” Kendra asked,
wondering if she’d ever learn to knit as well as her aunt. “You’re going to
wear this?”

Aunt Jackie lifted a spoon to draw a sample from
the stockpot. “Yes, it’s my next project, but it’s a Christmas present for
Russell.”

Kendra’s head snapped back. “Russell?”

 
“Needs more cumin and cayenne.” Aunt Jackie smacked her lips and went to
the spice rack.

“Who the heck is Russell?”

“Russell, the new mailman who delivers at the
shop. I’m sure you’ve seen him a few times. Mr. Collins, the old mailman,
retired.” She placed the spoon on the counter.

Of course Kendra remembered the new mailman. He
looked as if he could star in one of those Cialis commercials: handsome, tall,
fit, but sporting enough gray hair and wrinkles to be relatable to other men
and women of a certain age.

“Such a nice
personal
gift for this attractive, new mailman,” Kendra said. “If I recall correctly,
Mr. Collins, the old mailman, and the one who delivers here each get a twenty-dollar
Starbucks gift certificate inside a coffee mug cozy. So you like this Russell,
huh? You don’t make free sweaters for just any-ol’-body.”

Aunt Jackie’s cheeks flushed and her eyes crinkled
at the corners. “He’s a very nice man. Divorced. And when he comes in the shop
he always makes time to chat and admire my work.”

“I’ll bet your work ain’t the only thing he’s
admiring,” Kendra said, checking out her aunt’s lush hair, wide smile, and
shapely figure. “You’re hot, Aunt Jackie, but we really need to get you out of
those culottes.” She gestured toward the dark wool pair her aunt often wore
with Wallabees, suspenders, and a cream-colored shirt.
 
When Kendra squinted, the ensemble
resembled lederhosen. “Or better still, maybe Russell can get you out of those
culottes,” she added with a wink.

“Oh, you!” Aunt Jackie snickered with a
double-hand flap. “He hasn’t asked me on a date or anything. I don’t think he
likes me like that.”

“You’ll find out soon enough. If he does ask you
out, what will you say?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” Aunt Jackie
said. “Moving right along, how’s your sweater project?”

“Great.”

“You haven’t asked for help. How’s it going with
those circular needles?”

“I’m good, so far,” Kendra lied.

“I’m waiting.”

“To see the sweater?”

“No, for you to tell me all about this new guy of
yours.”

 
“Um.”
Though Aunt Jackie and Kendra were close, she hadn’t mentioned Dominic because
a part of her had been mentally preparing for the budding relationship to fail.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! I swear!” Jackie lifted a
hand. “But I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation with Selena
and Alyssa.”

“Nothing to report.
 
He’s just a friend.”

“With benefits?” she asked with an impish grin.

“What do you know about ‘
benefits’
?”

“I’ve watched
Love
& Hip Hop,
a time or two. Now what’s this
friend’s
name again?”

“Dominic.”

“And he’s in the business.”

“You
accidentally
heard a lot. Yes, he’s an agent, too.”

“Sounds as if you two have a lot in common. I know
you like him. I heard—”

“Aunt Jackie!” Kendra gasped, though she wasn’t as
put-out as she pretended to be.

“Okay, maybe I did eavesdrop a little. You like
him, don’t you?”

“Yes. And true, we do have a lot in common. But I
need to be extra careful with this one. He’s the type I haven’t had much
long-term success with in the past,” she reiterated more for herself than her
aunt.
 
“But I’m broadening my
horizons. I’ve even signed up at one of those online sites, Cupid4You. I have
two Cupid’s ‘beaus’ so far. We’ve exchanged a couple of friendly messages, but
I haven’t met them yet.”

“So when do you plan to meet them?”

“Soon.”

“Don’t act so excited,” Aunt Jackie said dryly.

“Just playing it cool with all candidates. It
gives me the upper hand. And men love the chase.”

“I know a little something about that. And I understand
your more cautious approach after those other, um, situations.”

“
Engagements
.
With an
S
. You can say the word.
En-gage-ments.
”

“Don’t act so aloof that they never get the see
the real Kendra. The warm, wonderful, loving Kendra I know.”

 
Kendra
flipped the page and admired a beautiful convertible gloves/mittens design
requiring top-notch “picture knitting” skills. Creating the elaborate orbs in
cream, lemon, lime, and berry hues involved working with several separate
strands of yarn at once, with no one color yarn carrying over a different color
on the unseen part of a garment, also known as the “wrong side” in knitting
lingo. “Hey, maybe I should make these next!”

Aunt Jackie looked at the page and nudged Kendra
with an elbow. “Glittens? Intarsia technique? At your level? Go right ahead if
you want to test your sanity.”

Kendra laughed. “Just kidding.”

Aunt Jackie shook her head. “What am I going to do
with you?”