Heard It Through The Grapevine. Pamela Browning
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home that night, they heard what sounded like a bunch of guys laughing and showering in their tiny bathroom. They didn’t know whether to call the police or what, but they finally recognized some of the voices and started pounding on the bathroom door. They discovered that Rocco and the guys had turned on the shower but were sitting around the bathroom fully clothed, making an unholy racket so that my aunt and uncle would think some strangers had broken in and were partying in their shower. And then there was the time—”
Josh was still smiling. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. It’s all pretty funny, by the way.”
“Not if you’re the butt of it,” Gina said emphatically.
By the time she reached the highway, Josh’s laughter had abated and he appeared pensive. They were passing the water tower at the edge of the town limits before he spoke.
“You’re lucky,” he said into the silence. “To have such a large family to care about you.”
That he would feel this way surprised her, and she certainly wouldn’t have expected him to mention it. “I know,” she said. She tried to recall what she knew about Josh’s family from the résumé that had been handed out to all contestants on the show. A mother who listed “philanthropist” as her occupation; a father who was a director of a couple of big corporations. One younger brother and a sister whose ages she couldn’t recall.
He shifted in his seat, leaning slightly toward her so that his face was more clearly lit in the light from the instrument panel. He looked somber. “My family is great, don’t get me wrong, but we’re so spread out that we seldom see one another. My father travels a lot, and my mother spends most of her time raising money for charity. My brother Jason’s business keeps him in New York. And then there’s my sister, Valerie, who married a banker from Brazil. They live in Rio de Janeiro.”
“I wouldn’t like living so far away from everyone who is important to me,” she said, trying to imagine such a thing. Not being able to drop by her mother’s apartment after Maren tried a new cake recipe, then the two of them sitting and gabbing with her sister, Barbara, while Mia and Stacey dashed in and out of the house? Not to run unexpectedly into Rocco at the market and laugh together at Frankie’s latest escapade while they waited their turns at the deli counter? Life anywhere else but Rio Robles would be flat and dull, Gina was sure of it.
Josh sighed and faced forward again. “I was afraid I’d be treated like an outsider today, but everyone was so friendly,” he said.
“Oh, that’s because Rocco took you under his wing. He may be the family clown, but we all respect his judgment.”
“If I’m in with Rocco, I’m in with the rest of the family? Including you?”
She ignored the hopeful note in his voice. “Not necessarily.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
Was he being sarcastic? She slid a stealthy look at him out of the corners of her eyes. His expression was neutral and revealed what might be a bit of regret. Okay, so it hadn’t been sarcasm. But what was it?
“Anyway, thanks for sharing your family with me,” Josh said.
The sincerity of his tone left Gina unable to think of any response other than “You’re welcome.”
“Besides,” Josh said wryly as he peered down at his feet. “I now have feet that would be the envy of Mia. Purple toes.” He tendered Gina the famously lovable Mr. Moneybags grin.
She slowed the car as they approached the pillars marking the entrance to the parking area in front of Good Thymes. The unique stone cottage nestled in a hollow in the land and was shaded by a variety of trees. Flowers spilled out of window boxes, and more flowers bordered the path leading to the red-painted and arched front door.
Gina drew the Galaxie slowly to a stop beside Josh’s car and, without looking at him, slid out of her seat. “Come on, you can wash your feet off at the garden spigot,” she said.
Josh stepped out of the car and followed her along the flagstone path bordering the cottage, looking around with interest. The stones were cool and damp beneath his bare feet, and the plants in the garden rustled in the light breeze. On the other side of the fence, they could hear the low hiss of drip irrigation in the adjoining vineyard.
“You live back here?” He gazed up at the mellow gray stone, its hard edges softened by the moonlight.
She’d bought the shop using her booty of fifty thousand dollars, the consolation prize from the TV show, as a down payment. “One of the main attractions of this building was that I could reside on the premises,” she said, gesturing toward the windows above. “My quarters are big enough, and comfortable, as well.”
As she spoke, a furry shape crashed through the underbrush and hurtled toward them. Josh yelled, but Gina staggered backward under a sudden weight. “Don’t holler so loud,” she said as she righted herself. “You’ll scare Timothy.”
Josh stared at the squirming ball of fur in her arms. A contented rumble emanated from it. A purr? If so, it was the loudest purr he’d ever heard, and it came from the biggest cat he’d ever seen in his life.
A few moments passed before he recovered. “That’s a cat?”
“This is my best buddy. He’s a Maine Coon cat with an attitude.” Timothy’s head appeared, and great unblinking yellow eyes focused on Josh with interest.
“I’ll say he has an attitude,” Josh said as he recovered his composure. He sneezed.
“Allergic?” Gina asked sweetly.
“Yes. Maybe I should leave.”
“I was going to let you wash your feet. Or are you becoming fond of purple?”
“I’d appreciate some running water. Will Timothy mind if I pet him?”
“No. He’s harmless.”
Josh tentatively reached out a hand and stroked Timothy’s head. The cat closed his eyes and purred even louder.
“He likes you.”
“Yeah. I wish you did.”
“I do, sort of. You were a good sport tonight, Josh.”
“How many points does that win me?”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Enough.” She turned away. “The spigot’s right over here,” she said, leading the way. “I’ll get a bar of soap from the potting shed.”
Josh dropped his shoes and blazer on a nearby bench and turned on the water. Gina set Timothy down on the back porch steps and picked her way carefully through the shadows to the shed, where she gathered up the bar of soap, a washcloth and a soft old towel.
Josh stood almost ankle deep in a puddle when she returned. She handed him the soap and washcloth and went to observe from the porch so her shoes wouldn’t get wet in the runoff.
“That should do it,” Josh said as he dried his feet. Crickets chirped in the garden, filling her ears with sound to block out what she was thinking. She recalled a night in the garden in Scotland two years ago when she and Josh had been enjoying an arranged date. She had climbed up on a crumbling moss-covered bench so she could see over the wall separating the castle from the moor, and Josh had smiled up at her in exactly the same way he was doing now. Then he had taken her hand and helped her down from the bench while she worried about whether he would try to kiss her.
“What should I do with the towel?” he asked, breaking the bubble of her memories.
Silently, she held out her hand, and he put the towel in it. Timothy meowed, impatient because she hadn’t fed him before she’d left earlier.
“Gina, how about going out for a drink or something?” Josh had moved closer and was lounging against the wall with his own brand of careless grace.
Her heart did a flip-flop at the eagerness of his tone,