Talk Nerdy to Me (8 page)

On
the early train to New York the next morning, Eve had the urge to call her
sister Denise. They hadn't talked in weeks, partly because every time Eve had
contact with Denise she ended up feeling stupid. A long time ago their parents
had divided up the turf. Eve was designated the pretty one and Denise was
labeled the smart one.

Eve
wondered if Denise was as unhappy with her role as Eve was with hers. But Eve
couldn't argue with the fact that she sucked eggs when it came to school. She
loved to learn, but only on her own terms. If she'd been an ugly kid her
parents might have insisted she at least graduate from high school, but she'd
been cursed with beauty, so they'd guided her relentlessly into a modeling
career.

She didn't like it much, but a person had to make
money somehow. And the career gave her periods of down time for reading books
on all the subjects she loved, such as alternative fuels and futuristic
transportation options. She dreamed of pioneering improvements that would clear
the air and slow the drain on fossil fuels.

She'd
always hidden those dreams, both from her parents and especially from Denise,
for fear everyone would laugh. But if Charlie thought the hovercraft had
potential, then Eve finally had something to tell Denise that her brainy sister
might find interesting.

Denise
wouldn't have left her apartment for her first class yet. Pulling out her cell
phone, Eve hit the speed-dial. Sisters should be closer than she and Denise
were, but she'd never known how to bridge the gap. The hovercraft might be
just the thing.

Halfway
through the first ring, Denise picked up. "Hey, glamour girl. You must be
on the train."

"Why would you think
I'm on the train?"

"You always call me
from the train."

"I
do not." But it was true. On the train she had time to think about things
like why she and Denise didn't have the bond that Hallmark said they were
supposed to have. Then she'd drum up some excuse to call and see if that bond
had mysteriously developed since the last time they'd talked.

"Yes
you do, but that's okay. You have demands on your time."

Eve
sighed. Was Denise being sarcastic or did she really mean it? "You have
demands, too. We're both busy. I know you have class, so—"

"I have to walk out
the door in five minutes. What's up?"

The
clock was ticking. Eve pictured her sister standing by the door in all her
orderly perfection—short black hair washed and styled, black pantsuit free of
all wrinkles, white blouse spotless, briefcase packed with the notes she'd need
for the day. Denise was always ahead of schedule, which left time for
interruptions like Eve's phone call.

Eve,
on the other hand, was usually behind schedule, distracted by the ideas
churning in her head like fruit in a blender. But one of those projects might
turn into something great. She wanted to tell Denise about the hovercraft,
but she thought it would be classier to lead up to it. Unfortunately, with only
five minutes ... less than five minutes, now, she didn't have much time to lead
up.

"Eve? You still
there?"

"Uh,
yeah." She saw the conductor coming down the aisle. "Hold on a
sec." After some searching, she found her ticket stuck between the pages
of the book on biomass research she'd brought to read on the train. She handed
it to the conductor, and before she could reconsider, she blurted out her news.
"Denise, I've invented something."

A
full second passed before Denise spoke. "Invented something? What do you
mean?"

"I've
had this idea for a long time, and now that I have a house with a garage, I've
been designing it. The bugs aren't worked out yet, but a friend of mine who's
an engineer thinks that it has—"

"Back
up. You're building something in your
garage!
Eve,
I can't even begin to take this in. You're a model, not a... a... You don't
invent things. Period. That's crazy."

Eve
should have expected this reaction, but it got to her, anyway. "I guess
you forgot the time I tied a rocket to the back of my Barbie and shot her over
the neighbors' roof."

Denise
gasped. "You've invented a personal rocket system?"

"Not exactly, but—"

"Omigod.
It's all coming back to me. The motorized wagon that ran us into the duck pond.
The catapult that smashed a two-hundred-year-old stained-glass window at the
church. Disaster at every turn."

"Denise,
it wasn't that bad." Those things had happened before Eve had learned to
keep her inventions a secret.

"Oh
yes it was. Barbie's leg ended up in Mrs. Jorgen-son's flower bed and one arm
was in the apple tree behind the Mastersons' house. We never found her head,
except I swear that Edgar Abernathy was using it as a parking lot gizmo for the
antenna of his car."

"I'm
not building a rocket," Eve said.
That's the next project.

"I
don't care! You could kill yourself, Eve! You're not to work on this anymore,
understand?"

Eve's jaw clenched, exactly
the way it used to when she was eight and Denise was a very superior twelve.
"It's not a rocket. And I will work on it. Once Charlie helps me iron out
the problems, I will really have something."

"Are you going into
the city or going home?"

"Into the city."

"When are you coming
back?"

"Wednesday
night. Listen, Denise, this is a perfectly legitimate project."

"Right.
I wish I could get there Wednesday night, but I have this awards thing and I'll
probably be getting something, so it would look bad if I didn't go. I'll be at
your house Thursday morning."

"What?
"
Eve sat up straight in her seat as panic set in.
She'd need two days to clean to Denise's standards. "You can't come.
Sorry. Not that I wouldn't love to have you, but I'm having the ...
exterminators on Thursday."

"For what?"

"Bugs.
It's truly disgusting. You wouldn't believe the invasion of bugs."

"You're
right, I wouldn't believe it." Denise's determined calm was unnerving.
"Not in February. Mice, maybe, but not bugs."

"I
meant mice! Mice, bugs, who can tell the difference when they move so fast?
Things are scurrying around here all the time. You would hate it, Den. Don't
come. Save yourself some trouble."

"I'll be there by
ten."

"What
about your classes? You can't just walk out on your economics classes! Students
are depending on you to give them the secrets of Wall Street!"

"I
have a TA who can take over for a couple of days. See you on Thursday. Now, I
really have to go."

"No!
It won't work! The plumbing is stopped up! The TV's broken! The washing machine—"
But her sister had already disconnected.

Still
clutching the phone, Eve banged her forehead repeatedly against the seat in
front of her. She must have fear of success. That was the only explanation for
this idiotic phone call to her sister, a phone call that would result in
Denise ruining what had promised to be an excellent few days spent with Charhe
while they worked on the hovercraft.

Now
bossy Denise would be there getting in the way, right when Eve was about to
spend some quality time with Charlie. And that was the crux of it. It wasn't
only Denise's interference that Eve was worried about.

Eve
could hold her own in a beauty contest against Denise, but what about a brainy
contest? What if the guy in question was an engineer type who would likely choose
mind over measurements? What if Denise swooped in and wowed him with her IQ
points?

Eve's
reaction to that possibility told her more than she wanted to know about her
current state of mind concerning Charlie. She didn't just
like
him. She had
designs
on
him.

Suddenly
her move to Middlesex took on a whole new meaning. Sure, she'd meant to escape
the city and Lyle's proposal. But her motives had been more complicated,
apparently. She'd been running away from one thing, but unconsciously running
toward something else.

She
wanted more than her little house in a cute New England town and more than a
place to create her inventions. She wanted a certain kind of man to live in
that house with her. A man pretty much like Charlie. Now that she'd found him,
Denise couldn't have him.

At
least her sister wouldn't show up until Thursday morning. If Eunice could keep
Rick busy Wednesday night, then Eve would have time alone with Charlie. Just
her, a sexy engineer, and a hovercraft in the garage together—the perfect setup
to put some moves on her favorite nerd.

The
next two days moved slower than an overloaded circuit for
Charlie, but finally Wednesday night arrived. The pizza was ordered and all he
had to do was hop on his bike, run by his aunt Myrtle's house, get Rick, pick
up the pizzas, and head on over to Eve's. Charlie had ordered three pizzas
because he couldn't decide what kind Eve would like.

He'd
ended up with one plain cheese—something just about anybody could eat—one with
pepperoni and sausage, which was your classic choice, and the third with all
veggies, in honor of Eve's veggie fuel. If she couldn't find something to love
in that group, then pizza wasn't her thing.

Two
guys and three pizzas on one motorcycle would be tricky, but Charlie was up for
it. Still, his life would have been easier if Rick could have picked up the
pizzas and met him there. Instead, Rick had loaned his car to Manny and Kyle,
who had driven to Hartford on an emergency run for the bakery.

For
two days Charlie had tried not to think about the bakery. He'd gone out of his
way to avoid driving past it. So long as he didn't talk to his mother or his
aunt, so long as he didn't drive by the bakery and see some titillating sign
out front, he could believe that the booby bun craze was over.

Apparently
Charlie's mother and Aunt Myrtle were treating Manny and Kyle like family,
which meant they got to run errands for the bakery. Rick would have been sent
to get them if he hadn't mentioned that he and Charlie were going over to
Eve's at six. The evening had been billed as nothing more than a social
occasion. Charlie trusted his mother and his aunt, but the fewer people who
knew about Eve's project, the better.

Consequently
he'd asked Rick to listen for the motorcycle and be ready to leave immediately
to forestall any discussion. But when Charlie arrived, his mother's red
Volkswagen Beetle was sitting in the drive of Aunt Myrtle's two-story
clapboard house. Nobody came to the door when he rang the bell, so he just went
in, because his aunt never locked the door.

That's
when he heard the kind of laughter and chatter in the kitchen that indicated
that Aunt Myrtle and his mother were in old-fashioned mode. Charlie wasn't an
old-fashioned fan. The sugar, the cherry, and the orange wedge seemed like a
fine way to eliminate the taste of good whiskey. But his mother and Aunt Myrtle
thought it was the height of sophistication.

Rather than get sucked into
that program, Charlie stayed in the entryway. "Rick?" he called out.
"Time to get moving!"

"Come
on back here, Charlie!" Rick sounded in no mood to rush off. "You
have to get a look at this cookie cutter!"

Knowing
it was probably a mistake, Charlie walked into the kitchen and found his
mother, Aunt Myrtle, and Rick at the old oak table at the end of the kitchen
with the familiar squatty glasses in their hands and the smell of oranges in
the air. Judging from the flushed faces, Charlie estimated Aunt Myrtle had
served a couple of rounds already.

Neither
of the two sisters had been born with red hair, but they went to the same
hairdresser so they both had red hair now. Aunt Myrtle was the tallest and
thinnest, and Charlie's mother was the oldest and plumpest. She was forever
trying to diet, but she loved to cook, which was her downfall.

Nobody
would have guessed Aunt Myrtle was the younger of the two widows. Twenty-seven
years of marriage to Jasper Bannister combined with the cigarettes she'd
finally given up had taken its toll on poor Aunt Myrtle. Charlie didn't think
she'd been all that sorry to see her husband leave this world at the age of
forty-eight, but he was absolutely positive she missed the cigarettes.