Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) (9 page)

“You miss him.” Mary was doing that staring thing again.

“I do. Both of them.” Glen knew Mary had been told he’d lost his parents in a plane crash years ago. Just as he’d been told that Mary grew up without parents. “Did you ever know yours?”

She shook her head. “I was left at a church when I was close to a year old. No note . . . no witnesses to see who left me there. Sister Mary Frances found me. I don’t know if my parents were kids or unable to take care of me, or maybe they’re dead and Grandma didn’t wanna do it all again. I try not to think about it.”

“A lot of people would take a beginning like that and never turn it around.” Glen couldn’t picture anyone giving away a child.

“I was a troublemaker as a kid.”

That was news. “Really? What kind of trouble?”

She took another sip of her wine; the glow on her cheeks became more evident. “Most of my formative years were spent in and out of a school for children . . . which was a fancy way of saying orphanage that Mary Frances volunteered for. Since Sister Mary Frances was the one who ultimately named me, she was the one who did a lot of my molding. She’s very pragmatic. Calls people on their bull straight up. And she was a nun . . . who argues with a nun?”

“I don’t know.”

“No one! I followed her lead. If I saw a disservice or an inaccuracy, I called it out. Didn’t matter if I was in the middle of my math class or church. Mary Frances and I have had a lot of conversations about faith. She also encouraged me to keep thinking and never take words at face value.”

“And that landed you in trouble?”

“Yeah . . . I didn’t last with a foster family for long, and a lot of the reason why was my mouth. I would question everything to the point of driving my foster parents crazy.”

“All kids ask why the sky is blue.” He could understand it being annoying, but not to the point of walking away.

“No, I would ask why Mr. Van Goosen was watching naked people exercising on his computer.”

Glen felt laughter deep in the pit of his stomach. “Oops.”

“Yeah, and when Mrs. Van Goosen delivered a
because he likes it
answer, I went to school and asked all of my classmates if their fathers watched naked people lying on top each other. And when their answers didn’t work for me, I’d ask my teacher . . . who knew the Van Goosens because Mr. Van Goosen was a deacon in the church.”

Glen had to stop drinking his wine or risk spitting it out. “Whoa!”

“The scandal rippled and I was back with Sister Mary. I bounced two more times. When I was a senior in high school I filed the necessary paperwork for emancipation, which the state was eager to approve when they saw I held a job, was finishing school with already a full year of college under my belt and a five-year plan.”

“Who did you stay with?”

“Sister Mary.”

“With the nuns?”

“No. Sister Mary had left the church by then. Remember all those scandals with sexual abuse that came out a while back?”

He nodded.

“She couldn’t take the hypocrisy. That
don’t take orders, make up your own mind
she’d instilled in me was deep in her. She’s still a devout Catholic, don’t get me wrong . . . she just doesn’t say she’s married to God anymore.”

“Where is Sister Mary now?”

“In Phoenix. The dry heat helps with her arthritis.
All those years of prayer
, she’d tell me.”

“How often do you see her?”

“Not often enough.”

“What keeps you from visiting?”

She glanced out the window. “Life. My clients keep me busy. I don’t care for driving through the desert by myself, and hundred-dollar flights to Phoenix never seem to apply when I have the time to go. I get there in spring and again in the winter . . . usually around Christmas.”

Glen felt the plane starting her descent and heard the chime into the cabin from the captain. He stood and took the nearly empty wineglass from Mary’s hand.

“We’re here?” she asked, looking out the window.

“Feels like it.”

“Where are we, anyway?”

He winked. “You’ll see.”

She didn’t quiz him, which caught him by surprise. “That’s it? No questions?” He snapped his seat belt in place, glanced at hers, which she’d never taken off.

“I actually kinda like surprises. I’m the kid that didn’t have Santa Claus, remember?”

Her words were said with such casualness it took a moment for them to sucker punch him in the gut.

His parents had been ripped out of his life long after Santa was dead . . . but to never have had that thrill, that fantasy . . .

It wasn’t until he felt the earth under the wheels of the plane that he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Well, Mary Kildare, I’m not Santa, but I do have a few things in my bag of misfit toys.”

The plane came to a stop and Glen opened the hatch.

Chapter Ten

In Mary’s life, she could count on one hand how many times she’d been truly spoiled. Most of them had been in the past year since she and Dakota had met the Fairchilds. The previous Thanksgiving, she, Dakota, and Walt found themselves on a private plane en route to the East Coast, where they enjoyed a full weekend of food, friends, and then a ride into New York City, via helicopter, to shop. Then there was the unexpected charter when Dakota had gone missing in Denver with her mother-in-law. Mary was told a plane was waiting for her and to get in. She did! Then there was the last book release Dakota had
 . . .
private planes, penthouse suites, even a full day at the spa and five-star meals the entire week. She’d tried to pay for some of it
 . . .
any of it. It would put her behind in her savings plan for the future, but she was willing. The occasion was that important. But no one would take her money. Monica’s connections to The Morrison Hotel chain and the Fairchilds’ unlimited ability to use the air as their private freeway was equivalent to her suggesting she pay for gas when it was under three dollars a gallon
 . . .
No, hon, we’ve got it this time.

Now . . . here she was moving from a private plane to a waiting town car for a date that was apparently going to take place in San Francisco.

Who did that? Who took their dates to San Francisco from LA?

Glen, apparently.

The town car didn’t take them far. In fact . . . it didn’t take them anywhere at all. She’d no sooner reclined in her seat than the car stopped and someone opened her door.

“What is this?”

Glen shrugged. “A helicopter. The drive in would take an hour at this time of day.”

Mary simply shook her head and popped this into her memory book.

The helicopter required her to put on a big set of earphones to talk. “I’m officially using you now,” she told him.

He shook his head with an unconvinced smile. “It’s not using if you’re going along for the unexpected ride.”

She didn’t agree.

Flying never bothered her. In fact, the thrill of the takeoff and landing on a normal plane always made her smile. She didn’t worry about crashing. She was pragmatic enough to know that more people died on the freeway en route to the airport each year than those who died in the air. The helicopter was an extension of a roller coaster at a theme park. The vertical, the horizontal, the tiny dip to the side. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She didn’t even care that the silly earphones were probably messing up her hair.

“If you took all your dates out like this, you’d be married by now.” The noise inside the earphones was tinny and full of the sound of wind.

“Getting married requires more than a helicopter ride.”

“Women can be crafty. You should watch out.”

“For other women?”

She nodded and glanced at the city fast approaching.

“I’m on a date with you and you’re talking about other women.”

She glanced over her shoulder and caught his shocked eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. We will get along a whole lot better if you don’t pretend you don’t date often.”

Shock gave way to acceptance.

Mary turned back to her window. “Lying is a deal breaker, Glen. I think you should know that.”

“Then I won’t lie.”

She took in his chiseled jaw once again. “What about you? Any deal breakers?”

He opened his mouth—

“No, let me guess.”

He closed it.

“Users.”

He pointed one finger in the air and smiled.

The Top of the Mark sat on Nob Hill in the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The view of the city was remarkable. Other than a helicopter hovering over, this was the best view money could buy.

The lounge had a fair number of guests with an accomplished pianist entertaining the room.

The first course of their evening would take place here.

Glen requested a view of the Golden Gate Bridge and smiled as he sat across from Mary to enjoy it.

“Wow.”

“My favorite West Coast city,” Glen confessed.

“I can see why.”

“Don’t tell me this is your first time.”

Mary quickly shook her head. “No. There was a conference of therapists that brought me here a few years ago. I didn’t get out of the hotel much to explore the city, I’m afraid.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if the conference was held with a bunch of red sofas in the meeting halls instead of tables and chairs. Why he assumed every therapist had a red couch, he couldn’t say.

“That’s too bad. There are a lot of things to do here.”

They ordered more wine and a couple of appetizers.

“What do you do when you’re here?” she asked.

“Depends on the occasion and who I’m with.”

She questioned him with her eyes.

“My brother Jason and I are here a few times a year to check on our satellite office. There are usually dinners involved, sometimes a little elbow rubbing with certain business owners.”

“Define elbow rubbing,” she said while sipping her wine.

“Like the building we landed on in the business district. There is a bit of a war going on here when it comes to helicopter traffic. We try and have access to as many helipads as we can, which requires us to hold relationships with the owners of the buildings, sometimes the prominent tenants of those buildings. While Jason and I don’t actively look for people to use our service, it never hurts to have some of the top companies know what we can provide.”

“Putting a face to a name.”

“Exactly. Elbow rubbing can mean dinner, drinks, or rounds of golf.”

“Do you golf?”

“If you’re asking if I can hold a club and hit the ball, yes . . . if you are asking if that ball ever goes in a hole, then no.”

Mary’s chuckle started slow and built. “Let me guess, you’re good at basketball.”

“Now that ball I can dunk.” He joined her laughter. “Football on occasion.”

She shook her head. “I remember Thanksgiving. Halftime game in the yard and you all came in holding a body part and grabbing beer.”

“It
is
a contact sport. What about you . . . any sports?”

“My constant movement as a kid kept me away from anything formal in school. I always wanted to ice-skate, but there wasn’t a rink close by . . . and lessons were never going to happen.”

“What about as an adult, find anything you enjoy doing now?”

“I love the ocean, but I’ve never surfed. Swimming always energizes me. I don’t know . . . there are a lot of things out there I haven’t tried. Haven’t thought much about it.”

Glen wondered if there was anything out there he hadn’t tried. He suddenly felt very privileged.

“Do you like museums?”

Her eyes lit up. “Love them, you?”

“Nope . . . well, does the Hard Rock museum count?”

Her shoulders deflated a tad. “What about walking tours of a new city?”

“I don’t think I’ve done that.”

“New Orleans is on my bucket list. They have graveyard tours, ghost tours, Garden District tours.”

“Sounds like you’ve been there.”

“Nope. Bucket list. Dakota and I travel really well together. I usually scope out where her conferences are and plan a few things for us to do outside of her classes and signings.”

Glen didn’t see that staying the same now that Dakota had Walt and the two of them were recent parents.

“Do you both have a trip planned?”

Mary shook her head. “The spring conference happened last week. She obviously couldn’t go.”

“Let me guess, it was scheduled in New Orleans.”

A flash of disappointment crossed her eyes. “It will come around again. And if not, we can go another time, or I’ll find a way to go myself.”

He opened his mouth to offer to help and she put her index finger in the air. “No. Thanks, but no.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to. And I would never take you up on it.”

We’ll see about that.

Glen went from supersnazzy, over-the-top fancy to Fisherman’s Wharf, where the two of them were entirely overdressed. But Mary loved it.

He pulled her into what looked like a fish and chips shack and said they were having another course there. “Best clam chowder in the city.”

And it was.

They walked through the crowd toward the bay. The wrap she’d brought for her dress wasn’t doing the job and the first gust of wind had Glen placing his jacket over her shoulders.

When he directed her into a swanky restaurant with an up-close view of the bay, she took a minute and excused herself to the ladies’ room.

Her hair was a mess . . . well, it was always unruly, but the moist air and wind had done a proper job of making it crazy. She tamed it the best she could, reapplied a little lip gloss, and stood back. She was smiling. Her cheeks were rosy, from the wind or the company, she couldn’t really say. Both, she guessed.

Before leaving the ladies’ room she sent a quick text to Dakota.

I’m in San Francisco having the best time.

She didn’t wait for a reply and put her phone back in her purse.

Once again, Glen had procured a table with the perfect view. More wine appeared, as did the waiter with the menus.

She glanced at the selections. “I honestly don’t know how much more I can eat.”

“I won’t be offended if you don’t finish.”

She put her menu down. “Then how about you order, and I’ll have a bite of yours.”

“Oh, no. I’ve played that game.”

“I’m serious. You’ve been feeding me since we got here.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look at her, just kept reading the menu.

“Really, Glen. I’m fine with the wine.”

“Uh-huh!”

The waiter reappeared.

Glen gave her one look, turned to the waiter, and ordered two filets mignons. “Medium rare?” he asked her.

He did not play fair. “Medium,” she corrected him.

He gave her an
I won
smile before completing their order.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“I ordered a salad to share.”

And they did. Halfway through her steak she gave up, and Glen finished it for her.

He wrapped her in his jacket before they left the restaurant and let his hands linger on her shoulders for a couple of seconds longer than needed.

She warmed instantly.

“If I knew I was leaving Southern California, I would have been prepared.”

“If I had told you where we were going, it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

And she did like the thrill of discovery.

When he opened the door to a waiting car, she slid in and said, “You’ve thought of everything.”

He settled back in his seat as the car took them in the direction of downtown.

“I’m kinda shocked,” he said.

“About what?”

“We didn’t cross hairs once. I think that’s a first for us.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might have come to blows with the steak.”

“You ate half.”

She rolled her eyes. “At least you didn’t order dessert.”

He paused.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing . . . he still had something cooking. He really didn’t have a poker face.

“I hope you’ve had a good time.”

She hadn’t stopped smiling since he kissed her. A kiss he hadn’t repeated. He didn’t even reach for her hand or let his palm linger too long on the small of her back.