Jorja & Malcolm (Toffee Kisses Book 1) Read online

  Jenny waved at her husband as he turned around. She felt the back of her other hand being pinched.

  “Aren’t we well-hydrated!” Kyle said approvingly. He frowned at Jorja, “Quite unlike some people!”

  Jorja saluted and finished her water with noisy gulps.

  Jenny leaned in towards Kyle and said, “I want my husband back, the salmon with shitake, lemon grass water and a slice of that bread.” She smiled sweetly and added, “Not necessarily in that order.”

  Kyle gave her a genuine smile. “As you wish,” he said.

  Jenny put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Crawford poked his head in the door and looked around. He scooted to the table.

  Jorja extended both arms in front of her, and then swept them outwards.

  “Safe!” she yelled.

  Napoleon was moping. His Mother had spent all afternoon on the phone and didn’t even pick him up once. Now she was digging in her purse for her wallet. It was his purse really; he loved riding in it when Mother went out every day. Mother had such a soothing voice then; talking to so many people who gave off so many interesting smells.

  Mother’s voice was anything but soothing now.

  The little dog was bored and hungry. His luncheon had not been served. He wandered to the bedroom and under the bed where the nephew had given him the yogurt last night. Maybe the nephew was still there with a spoon?

  “Excuse me, but I’m just looking for my credit card now,” Betty Boothe said as she dug in her voluminous bag. Little Napoleon ran happily into the room, twisting and jumping with a piece of paper in his mouth.

  Betty’s mouth fell open. Her dog had a hundred dollar bill clamped in his tiny jaws. Betty dropped the phone and lunged toward her long-hair Chihuahua. He was so excited that Mother was finally paying him some attention that his tail wagged furiously and his ears looked like wings. He growled and pawed his prize. Napoleon stopped suddenly as he heard a familiar crinkle of cellophane. Treats? Yes treats, oh joy! He dropped the paper and stood on his hind legs.

  Betty snatched the bill quickly and marched into her bedroom. She lowered her bulk and peered under the bed. There on the floor was her zippered case with hundred dollar bills spilling out! Betty had stored her ‘stash of cash’, as she liked to think of it, in her box spring for ages. Napoleon had never discovered it before. Betty knew of only one explanation of why her zippered case had been disturbed.

  She went back into the living room and picked up her phone. “Are you still there?” she asked.

  There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

  “Yes Ma’am, I’m still waiting for you to provide me with your credit card number.”

  Even though the Court official could not see her, Betty batted her eyes and smiled her professional saccharine smile.

  “There has been a change of plans. I am no longer willing to go surety for my Nephew. I will not be posting bail,” she said firmly.

  “Mrs. Boothe, please, after all this time we’ve spent together, why oh why are you changing your mind?”

  Betty heard him sigh again, but she was resolved.

  “Because of something my dog showed me,” she said. She barely heard him say dejectedly, “Sure lady, whatever floats your boat.”

  Betty hung up the phone, picked up Napoleon and walked down the hallway to Jesse’s bedroom.

  “We are going to tear this room apart!” she announced.

  ***

  “I don’t know; I was in the back room, putting together an arrangement, when this uniformed policeman came in. Scared the daylights out of me!” Darla told Merry.

  “And they just hauled him out?” Merry asked.

  “In handcuffs no less!”

  The Sinclair family walked in and after introductions, Darla and Merry waved them upstairs.

  “Go right in, open cupboard doors, look wherever you like; I don’t mind!” Darla said as she pulled out the petty cash box and the sales receipt book. “Just don’t let my cat out; Miss Twinkle is an indoor cat.”

  Maisy ran upstairs and pushed the doorbell. Westminster Chimes sounded loudly. Maisy grinned from ear to ear. She turned to her Mom, “Can we buy the place, Mom?”

  “We need to look inside the house first, Maisy, and flush toilets. Everybody knows that,” Sasha smirked as she opened the door.

  Amanda and Dustin entered the apartment after the twins and immediately walked to the floor to ceiling windows.

  “This view is breathtaking!” Amanda said.

  “Can you imagine waking up to this every morning?” Dustin asked, staring in wonder at the ocean.

  “Look behind us, Dustin; more huge windows! You’d be able to see the customers drive up.”

  “Who cares, Mandy, look at the private beach! Look at it! The girls would love it!”

  “This place has got to be over three thousand square feet!”

  The couple stood mesmerized by the view when they heard a toilet flush. Then they heard a small meow. Then they heard Maisy say, “I don’t care if you are a rat, I just love you so."

  Alarmed, the couple spun around to find one of their girls holding a hairless little animal in a pink dress that said “I’m the Princess, that’s why!”

  Dustin hid behind Amanda. “That isn’t a rat, is it?” he asked.

  Another toilet flushed in the distance.

  Amanda started laughing so much that she could barely say, “Miss Twinkle is a sphinx; a hairless cat. Maisy, give your Dad the cat.”

  Dustin hesitantly extended his arms to his little daughter. Miss Twinkle daintily walked up Dustin’s arms and started rubbing Dustin’s chin with her head. She began purring even louder.

  Doors began slamming in the apartment.

  “I must go find our house inspector in the making,” Amanda said.

  “Phone me if you get lost,” Dustin said. “Miss Twinkle and I will come and find you!” He sat down in a chair as the little cat curled up in his arms.

  “Daddy, can we get Miss Twinkle some pants?” Maisy asked.

  ***

  “And so Queen Bat Crap Crazy flew back to her colony in England, and was never heard from again!”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I still can’t believe that she tried to run down a pregnant teenager!”

  Jorja and Malcolm were leaning against a log on the beach. They had been talking for the past two hours after waving goodbye to Jenny and Crawford. Jorja had also been digging in the sand and had collected quite a number of pieces of sea glass. She arranged them in a star pattern on the log.

  “I know,” said Jorja. “When I think of some woman trying to maim or even kill some random pregnant teenager, well, it’s horrible! But when I realize it was my Aunty Cydney and me…it gets too real. I want to run away or wake up from a bad dream or something. Yet I know this all happened, and it’s done with, but I feel unsettled and almost threatened. Do you know what I’m trying to say Malcolm, because clearly I don’t?”

  Malcolm looked at the ocean and then back at Jorja. “I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, Jorgie, but when my parents died, I woke up the next morning and the realization hit me, “I’m an orphan. I just kept repeating that. I’m an orphan now. I wanted to run away, but I had no home to run to.” He put his hands up to his mouth and his eyes started leak tears.

  Jorja leaned forward and gave him a hug. “The wind is picking up the salt spray and once that gets in your eyes…”

  Malcolm nodded and wiped his eyes. “So true, so true. But what I think you’re trying to say Jorgie, is that you feel scared; like you’re not grounded anymore?”

  “Yes, that’s it. And yet I have a stable if somewhat bohemian family; a good circle of friends and you. This adoption information has somehow changed me and I just feel so incredibly vulnerable. I think I need to take a day to paint and just re-group.”

  “And I think I need to take a day and go to the chiropractor!” said Malcolm stretching out kinks in his back. He had stayed over at the Clark’s, so Jorja
didn’t have to run him back home again and he would be there in the morning when Jorja made her spying debut.

  “I offered to swap; you take my bed and I take the couch, but some people wanted to sleep on the couch…”

  “That lovely piece of furniture!” they both said.

  “I also need a day to set up our most perfect first date,” Malcolm announced as he picked up a little crab from the sand and let it scuttle back and forth on his hands before he put it down again. He bowed to Jorja. “Are you free Wednesday, milady?” he asked.

  “Mostly.”

  “Is there a dragon I must slay first?”

  Jorja smiled. “It’s just that my Grandparents set up this blackberry festival to run from Wednesday to Wednesday; so people who work weekends will be able to enjoy a lot of the events too. And, as you know, the last event is ‘Movie under the Stars’ and I love to go every year!”

  “Then we shall end our most perfect date with “My Fair Lady”!”

  “Sounds wonderful!” Jorja stood up and did a little jig. “Well, Thurston Howell the fourth, I’ll race you to Periwinkle!”

  Malcolm lifted up his right hand and looked at his watch. “I’ll give you a ten minute head start.”

  Jorja attempted a Russian accent, “Dahlink, I run like wind, you vill never catch me!”

  She hitched up her polka dot dress and started running while Malcolm hummed the theme to Jeopardy.

  Anthony was humming too; well snoring really. At home, the one glass of wine had led to another. He had managed to stay awake in the cab and found a seat in the little theatre towards the back. Most of the audience was made up of parents with their children. All were wearing 3D glasses.

  The laughter and no doubt, the wine and pain medications combined and Anthony started feeling sleepy. He recalled yelling, “Lipstick Taser!” and then blackness. He woke up sometime later and wondered what was on his nose. “Oh, glasses,” he thought and adjusted them. On the screen, freaky purple things were chewing through a coconut tree and it was falling on him!

  “Help!” he yelled as he tried to get out of the way of the tree.

  The family in front of him turned around. As the Mother reached over and patted his knee, the little boy said “It’s okay, it’s just a movie.”

  Anthony continued to look frightened.

  “Maybe your Mommy should take you home,” the little girl suggested.

  The fog in Anthony’s brain started to clear and he realized where he was. He looked at the helpful family, and said in a more normal voice, “Thanks, but I’m okay, I’m a grown up.”

  The Mom and the little boy smiled and turned around.

  The little girl did the same, but then quickly turned back and whispered, “I don’t think so. You don’t act like a grown up at all.”

  “Do too,” Anthony thought. He sat back and watched as the freaky purple things were strafed with jelly and started turning back into minions. “I act like a grown up,” he whispered.

  The little girl in the row in front of him somehow heard him. She didn’t even turn around but just shook her head.

  “Do not,” she said to the screen.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Or Norma grows a backbone while Jorja buys pie

  William felt the gentle tap on his arm. He removed his ear buds and smile at Constance. “Yes my love?”

  “Are you going to take the spoiled brat’s case?” she asked.

  He took his glass of wine from the tray in front of him and took a leisurely sip.

  “Oddly enough, I’m not sure. You know I normally don’t pass any sort of moral judgement…” he began.

  “Sure,” she laughed, “and that’s why I know he’s spoiled!”

  William rolled his eyes. “Okay; maybe I do. This case though, blurs the line between my desire for more money and beneficence.”

  “It would certainly benefit you financially to take on this kid’s case, but I feel that’s not what you’re weighing ethically.” Constance put down her book. “Here, this might help, answer this question, where’s the maleficence?

  “In my preliminary investigation of this family, I found that Malcolm Newsome, Nurse, had been orphaned when he was ten. His parents had set up a trust fund for him, to mature when he was twenty-one. It had not been touched.”

  “So you were thinking, ah ha! My fee will definitely be covered!”

  “Correct my dear. At the time, I wondered why this kid was stealing, and not using his trust fund, but just brushed it off. Stupid people do stupid things. After I interviewed this so-called Malcolm, I found out that he was the cousin, Steve Newsome. Of course, I had to inform the court of his duplicity. But I wondered about the trust fund. Why didn’t the Aunt and Uncle read about it in the will? Why did the real Malcolm not inherit the money?”

  “Does he even know about it?” Constance asked. “Could the cousin simply be following his parents’ larcenous ways?”

  “You’re thinking the parents drained the trust fund years ago? My thinking went along those lines too, that is why I’ve been researching the news articles around the car accident of sixteen years ago when the now Nurse was about twelve. Apparently, it occurred in the States…”

  “Where we will be touching down shortly!”

  William smiled and added, “Where the parents of the real Malcolm were visiting a close family friend who happened to be their lawyer. Unfortunately, the family friend died in the accident as well. I’m wondering if he was the trustee.”

  Constance frowned. “But surely his name would have been listed in the will, or his law firm would have notified the Newsome’s?”

  “I’ll have to do more investigation. Nonetheless, I would rather drop the case and inform the proper young man about his trust fund.”

  William’s girlfriend reached over and closed his laptop. “I’ve already done all the investigation we will need this trip,” she said. “Once our plane lands, our car will pick us up and take us to the Excalibur Hotel and Casino. There we will take in the Tournament of Kings Dinner and Show. Are you ready to eat, drink and be rowdy?”

  “You know it, Connie!”

  Jorja pulled the step ladder over to the large cupboard. She was in her Dad’s studio, searching for her unsold paintings of last year. She had dropped Malcolm off earlier and sang all the way home.

  “My, you’re home early,” Jenny said as she looked up from her book.

  Crawford muted the television. “Everything alright?” he asked worriedly.

  Jorja was still singing an old folk song, “Because he had kisses sweeter than wine; he had, mmm, mmm, kisses sweeter than wine!”

  “I think she’s okay, hon,” Jenny said.

  “I’m painting tomorrow,” Jorja sang, “Then Malcolm and I are going on our perfect first date on Wednesday!”

  “What about Movie under the Stars?”

  Jorja attempted a New Zealand accent. “No worries, mate, we’ll be there with our chillybin chock full of fizzies!” She then raced up the stairs.

  Her Dad kept his finished pieces in the large cupboard Jorja started looking through. She found his commissioned artworks, and stacked alongside were her own, unfortunately, un-commissioned artworks. She flipped through them and found a watercolour of Mrs. Beetle and one of Mr. Kovesy.

  “Perfect!” she said.

  She pulled out the framed paintings and all the others fell to the right. As they clicked over like dominoes, Jorja spied a painting, standing behind and perpendicular to the group.

  “Well blow me down!” Jorja whispered.

  The hidden painting was that of a Mother and child. Clearly, the Mother was her Aunty Cydney. The little baby had blue eyes and a tuft of strawberry blond hair.

  “Is this me?” she wondered.

  She propped the painting up in the center of her Dad’s work table and carried her two paintings across the hall to her apartment. Miss Stein was waiting patiently at her door.

  “Do come in,” Jorja said as the cat twisted around
her ankles. Jorja walked over to her kitchen sink and turned the cold water on just enough to create a slow drip. Miss Stein was on the counter in a flash and started drinking from the tap.

  “Remember now,” Jorja said, “No bathing on the counter!”

  Jorja dumped the contents of her purse on the counter and found the Ziploc bag containing her nightie decorations that Malcolm had given to her a few days ago. She unfolded her octopus and squid nightie and began sewing the legs back on. Her eyes kept darting over to the watercolour of Mrs. Beetle.

  “Will I ruin it?” she asked Miss Stein who was indeed, washing up on the counter despite being told not to.

  “Miss Stein!” Jorja said sternly, “Have we not had this conversation before?”

  The cat froze and then gave her leg another wash. When Jorja cleared her throat, Miss Stein decided, entirely of her own accord, to walk over to the other part of the counter and swat purse items to the floor.

  A Sharpie fell at Jorja’s feet. She picked it up, got up and turned off the tap and showed Miss Stein the door. The last thing Jorja wanted was a cat in the room attacking her felt pen! Jorja removed the backing from the frame and found that she had used regular tape to fix the watercolour to the matte border. There was no way she could remove the border without damaging the painting.

  “Oops, I had forgotten about that,” she said. “Oh well, I’ll make do,” Jorja said as she flipped the painting to the right side. Her Sharpie was poised, when she thought, “What if Malcolm phones me and I jump? I would not be impressed with a line across Mrs. Beetle’s face. I better phone him first!”

  “Do you have a middle name?” Jorja asked Malcolm when he answered.

  Malcolm laughed. “Is this a secret code or a serious question?”

  “I can’t seem to shorten Malcolm into anything. I worked with a woman called Melanie and called her Mel, and I didn’t really like her, so that’s not going to work. And I don’t want to call you ‘hon’ because Mom and Dad use that endearment.”

  “It’s a puzzler! Unfortunately, my middle name is Henderson, so that’s not really a help. Jorgie girl, what has led to this nickname crisis?”