A penny earned, p.2
A Penny Earned, page 2
Penny stared at him for a second, and she saw it. In his eyes, she saw an emotion she’d never seen in Fred—was it insecurity? In her mind, she felt they needed the break. Based on what she knew and understood about him, he wouldn’t bring it up again.
Gently, she touched his arm. “Can we still have our date night?”
“Of course,” he said, taking deep, measured breaths.
They shared a quiet meal at a local café, speaking little, needing to say even less. Once home, the love they made was done in a manner of two lovers not wanting to let go or say goodbye, sharing one last night. Fred held her close, savoring the moment. Penny clung to him as he pulled away, reaching for an item on the nightstand. Cool metal slid on her left hand but in the dark she couldn’t see.
“I need to have a label,” he said in her ear. “When I am introduced to your friends and the rest of your family, I will have a label as to what I am to you. You decide what you want that label to be, but I’m too damned old to be anybody’s boyfriend. I put a ring on it; let me know what it means when you come back to me.”
Fred was proud of himself the next morning as he watched Penny climb into the cab, bound for the New Haven airport. The flight to BWI would be short and his honey bunny would be home soon in her own bed without him. He waved goodbye, returning to his office to get the day going. A cold cup of coffee sat on his desk as he made a list of all the items to be checked off in her absence. True, he managed to get work done, but his mind always drifted to her, distracting him in the worst way. If he focused solely on the work, he wouldn’t have time to mope about and miss the hell out of her.
It bothered him that she didn’t say how long she’d be gone.
It troubled his soul that Penny wouldn’t commit to a date when she’d return if she returned.
It chapped his ass that she made no comment on the engagement ring he’d slipped on her finger. He’d made his move. His balls were in her hands. He had nothing else.
He was knee deep in his notes, double checking facts when Lana, his assistant, arrived, and he barely heard her enter the outer office door. She called out to him, wishing him good morning to which he replied. Minutes later, Lana appeared at his office door, looking about.
“The air feels different,” Lana said. “Hey, where’s Dr. Dobbs? I know she’s happy to have the cast off her foot.”
“She went home,” Fred said, double checking the numbers against the data in the system.
“What? She left and didn’t even say goodbye to me? I feel some kind of way. Did she break up with us, and I’m going to get a text later? This feels icky,” she said, looking at Fred.
The confidence with which he spoke shocked even him, “She’ll be back, Lana. Relax. We have work to clear. Finnegan sent two more boxes of materials from Philoneus’ house. The week is going to be packed. Let’s get after it.”
“Should I at least call her to make sure she’s alright?”
“Lana, her plane hasn’t taken off yet,” he said. “She’ll call when she gets home and spends a few nights in her own bed. Plus, she will be able to drive her own car to go where she wants, when she wants, and how she wants. Let’s allow her the breathing room she needs.”
“You say that so confidently.”
“It is what it is,” Fred said. “Let’s work.”
Focus. Driven. Determined. When the time came and she wanted to come home to him, Dr. Penny Dobbs knew where to find her guy. In the interim, there was work to be cleared and data to collect. He placed his energies there.
Chapter 2 - Pocket
The travel had been relatively uneventful from the cab ride from Fred’s home in New Haven to the airport. The hour and twenty-minute flight, while not full, made boarding with her one bag a snap. A car service she’d used for many years was employed to meet her at the curb to provide a ride to her four-bedroom Georgian style brick home.
She entered the home to find the scent of lemon and cinnamon. The white walls of the living room paired well with the grayish carpet under the white oak coffee table that sat in front of the eggshell colored couch. A vibrant painting hung over the fireplace, adding a spark of color to the room illuminated with the large windows that overlooked the English style garden in her backyard.
Each month, her gardener Javier worked on the respite, trimming, and clipping to ensure a splotch of color would always be present during every season. This was the home she’d purchased with her first signing bonus from the publishing company. Subsequent royalty payments afforded the option to write only one book per year while traveling to do more research and the occasional book signing.
Lately, the words seemed to have dried up. The swashbuckling hero of her dreams became this dullard who always rushed into danger versus thinking things through. A hungry, ambitious heroine who thought better with her panties off had begun to bore her to tears. However, the past couple of months, she found herself reworking the novel to write a different sort of hero, an everyday man faced with a daunting task.
Words poured from her heart and soul onto the pages. In her mind, it was quite possibly the best thing she’d ever written and she’d suffered a head wound. The schedule Fred maintained had also placed her on a timetable, and with the structure, she managed to get more accomplished. Scenes were layered with intricate plots and red herrings, which made sense and the story was simply...charming.
“They need to discover the gold,” she said, going to the kitchen to find the cupboards bare.
Two bottles of champagne which she’d purchased to celebrate completing the last book she’d written were in the fridge. One bottle was there to honor having another New York Times Best Seller, but she had no one to share it with. A yawn snuck up on her, presenting itself for further consideration to potentially take a midday nap in her own bed, alone.
Her master bathroom had a garden tub with jets to massage her aching leg. Carrying the boot for so long made Penny feel off balanced, the same way she felt waking up next to Fred each morning. Her eyes drifted to her left hand. She eyeballed the half carat pear cut diamond ring with two flanking stones on each side of the setting. The ring, simply, like the giver of the token, was lovely.
“But what does it mean to me?” she wondered, pausing momentarily. The tub called to her as she started a bath to calm her nerves.
It had been months since she’d been home. By the time the bathtub was filled, she’d placed an order for a weeks’ worth of groceries, plus ordered enough lunch to cover the dinner requirement. A twenty-minute soak would be ideal to wash off the road and center her to be in this space.
Quickly, she stripped down and lowered herself into the water. The big toenail Fred ripped off left room for a new nail to begin forming. Her feet looked atrocious, especially the one which had been in the boot.
“Hey, Monica, call for a pedicure,” she said, speaking into the air where her phone rested on the vanity. The AI assistant dialed the salon where she had her nails done, and her manicurist had an opening later today which Penny accepted.
“Hair salon!” she said next as the assistant dialed the beauty parlor. The call was answered right away by Martika, her stylist. “Martika, help! This is Penny Dobbs.”
“Dr. Dobbs, oh my, where have you been? I was starting to get worried, but I didn’t know if you were out of the country or having a dashing romance with a brawny love god,” Martika said, giggling into the line.
“I had a terrible fall, broke my foot, and busted up some ribs. I also lost a chunk of my scalp and have a bald spot in the back of my head,” she confessed. “I am dire need of a deep condition and your expert shears. Please help.”
“I can clear out the calendar and take you this afternoon at four; will that work?”
“Yes! I shall see you then,” Penny said as the call disconnected. She soaked for another ten minutes, got out of the tub. and dressed just as the doorbell rang. Lunch arrived as well as the groceries, which she instructed the driver to leave on the doorstep.
Watching them from the camera, after the departure of the vehicle, she opened the door to get the goods. She sat at the kitchen island, alone in a 6,000 square foot home, eating a meal that tasted full of sodium and trans fats. Fred’s clean eating transformed her palate and the food she ordered was no longer appealing. Penny pushed the plate away.
“A step at a time,” she said, looking down again at her hand. Fred wanted a title. No man had ever asked her before to define his role in her life outside of husband and father. “Who does that?”
Evidently, it worked. The manicurist at the nail salon noticed the ring immediately and started asking questions. The stylist, while washing Penny’s hair, also noticed and wanted to see pictures of Penny’s fiancé.
The word sounded foreign to her ears. A fiancé. A stop at the drugstore for her monthly supplies drew eyes from the cashier who normally waited on Penny. She asked about coupons, and when Penny said she had none, the clerk used the ones she’d been saving for herself although Penny told her it wasn’t necessary.
Behind the wheel of her vehicle, Penny felt empowered being able to drive herself around. She parked in the garage, disengaged the alarm, and entered the home she prided herself in personally decorating. A home with no soul. A lonely home, with no life, filled with pretty, expensive things very few people ever saw, including the owner.
Tired from a full day, Penny went to her bathroom. She placed the items from the drugstore under the sink and noticed she was not out of supplies. Then she realized she hadn’t needed any supplies in a while. Her eyes grew wide as she grabbed her phone and began to look at dates. She looked at the times of couplings and the locations. In her phone, much to her dismay, she maintained the records of her womanly life, but she had opted for easy instead smart.
“Am I late?” she asked, double-checking the cycles. Panic filled her as she ran to the bedroom, collecting her purse, pulling out her prescription. She opened the pack staring and realizing that the pack was full.
“Shit,” she grumbled. “How many weeks have I missed taking my pills? Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.”
Hurriedly grabbing her keys to head to the drugstore again, arriving on two wheels and running inside. She ran down the aisles, looking for tests and early detection kits. Penny didn’t know which one to buy, so she purchased one of each. Her hands clutched the steering wheel as she worked her way through the streets, arriving home to again park the car in the garage.
Playing it smart, she grabbed a disposable plastic cup from the cabinet before heading to the bathroom. A full bladder screamed at her for release. It wasn’t the best idea, but she planned to use every test; therefore, she filled up the cup.
Penny set the cup on the counter, wondering what the hell she was thinking. Meticulously, she opened each test. She placed a towel on the bathroom counter as she began the process of dipping each test into the cup of liquid body waste. Side by side she lay them on the counter and set her timer.
The suspense was getting to her and she opted to leave the tests all in the bathroom to go make herself a cup of chamomile. Fred didn’t have tea at his home, just coffee. Had she asked for tea, more than likely he would have gotten it for her, but she never asked. The more she thought about it, she didn’t ask him for anything.
Everything he did, Fred did on instinct alone. She never had to ask, not even for a definition of their relationship. He had acted and provided himself a title.
The whistling of the kettle made her jump. She cut the gas on the burner, moving the pot to a non-heated spot after pouring the hot water into her mug. Slowly she walked to the bathroom to read the results of what would be next in her life.
Penny leaned forward to read the results of all the tests. She purchased ten. Penny tested ten.
“One stripe means negative. Two stripes mean positive,” she said, looking forward. “Okay, here we go.”
One hand over her eyes, the mug of tea in the other. Penny glanced at the first result. She peered at the second result through her fingers. This action was repeated eight more times all with the same conclusion.
Fred Quartermain hadn’t argued when she’d left the house.
He hadn’t called to ask if she’d made it home safely.
He hadn’t texted to ask if she was okay.
Fred knew she’d be back. He knew she was coming back to him and the flipping ring he placed on her hand was only the beginning of this journey he planned for them to take together.
“It’s up to you to decide what my title will be.” He had said it so calmly, like he knew I’d choose him. He hasn’t called to check on me because he knows I’m coming back. She leaned against the bathroom counter.
Funny thing was, Penny Dobbs wasn’t angry. She was the opposite. Fred Quartermain would have a title role in her life. It just wouldn’t be the one he expected.
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOONS were Delilah’s half day off. Usually on a Wednesday if Penny were home, she and her younger sister would make an afternoon of it with lunch at a local spot or possibly afternoon tea to catch up and connect. Penny didn’t want to go out. She was happy to stay in today and make tea for the two of them along with spring salads with sauteed chicken and mushrooms.
“Well, okay then,” Delilah said as she walked into the kitchen. “I thought we were going out. Wait, you cooked?”
“I don’t consider this to be cooking,” Penny confessed, plating the salads. She had also made Crostini, bellinis, and later martinis if the day went in that direction.
“Still, color me surprised,” Delilah added as she washed her hands and took a seat at the set table. “This is...different. You feel different.”
“I guess I am in some ways. Eating fresh for the last couple of months was a real body cleanser,” she commented. “The other day when I got home, you know me, I called and placed an order for food from my fav spot, and I couldn’t eat it. Delilah, I could taste all the trans fats and the sodium levels were off the charts, and I had to put it down.”
“Sis, tell me about it. I was the same way when I was...pregnant,” she said, looking at her big sister. Delilah cocked her head. “Hmmp. You know, Daddy can’t stop talking about your guy and his boat. He bragged on and on, leaving my poor Nigel feeling some sort of way. Especially when Daddy got to the man talk on the boat about marriage and all. Is that what’s next for you? Are you marrying, heck I don’t even know his name.”
“Dr. Frederick Quartermaine,” Penny said. “He is a librarian and an archivist for the Society of the Golden Orb.”
“You do have a type,” Delilah said.
“Says the woman married to quite possibly the dullest man on the planet.”
“He ain’t that dull; we made three kids,” Delilah said with a wink.
“All males of the species are born with an inherent need to mate and procreate,” she replied, trying not to laugh. “I bet that bore hound has a special name for when he makes you orgasm. I imagine it’s something silly, like Mommy Sploosh Time or some bullshit like that.”
Delilah face showed no sense of amusement. Penny had hit the nail on the head. Now she was curious. “Come on. Out with it! What does Dr. Nigel Pendergrast call it when he makes mommy cum hard for him?”
“He says he wants to make the clam cramp,” Delilah said and burst into laughter.
“Oh my God, that has the be the funniest shit ever! Please tell me I can use that in my novel,” Penny said, wiping away the tears. “Dexter pulled her close, whispering in her ear, baby, I’m about to make that clam cramp. Dear Lord, I can’t even.”
Delilah had stopped laughing. “It sounds horrific when you say it like that!”
“It is horrific no matter how it’s said. Come here, baby. Daddy is going to make that clam cramp while he shoots ropes up your beef curtains!”
“I detest you sometimes,” Delilah added, stifling her laughter. “Beef curtains, really?”
“Oh honey, I can make you a list, from the underwear unicorn to a one-eyed leather stretcher,” Penny said, blushing.
“Wait, what was that? I saw that look, and then you licked your lips. OOhh! Oooh, you and the big guy. What does he call it when the two of you...?”
Penny found herself blushing. “Fred doesn’t call it anything. He simply reaches for me, kisses me with this passion like he hadn’t seen me in a month of Sundays, and he lets me have it, no holds barred, until we both collapse.”
A moment of hesitation hit Penny’s expression. Delilah saw it. She knew when her sister had doubts about a matter, and that expression symbolized doubt. Her big sister wasn’t a woman who had doubts. When Peyton van Cardin made up her mind on a matter, she made up her mind.
Delilah asked, “What is it? There is a deal breaker in that expression.”
Penny shrugged. “A weird thing that, I dunno, I didn’t think bothered me but it does.”
“Is he a nose picker? I hate a man who picks his nose then has to examine the findings on the end of his fingertip. It’s a booger, you nasty snot wrangler; why are you looking at it?”
Penny stared at her sister. Delilah was, in fact, one of the smartest people she knew, and Dr. Penny Dobbs knew many very brilliant minds. However, her sister had the emotional bandwidth of an 18-year-old. Penny shook her head no.
“He lies down on the bed and closes his eyes, and he’s asleep,” Penny said. “I can snuggle up to him, or he will embrace me, but when his head hits the pillow, he’s gone.”
“Deep, unawakenable sleep, or he just falls asleep fast?”
“He trained himself to turn off his brain when his head hits the pillow. I mean, it is admirable, but what if I wanted to play slap and tickle before we lay down?” Penny asked.
“Do you want to play slap and tickle before going to sleep?”
“No, you’re missing the point, Sis,” Penny exclaimed.
“Penny, that is the point. Stop making issues over silly shit. If the man is tired after working all day and dealing with your high maintenance ass, let him sleep,” she said.
