Jorja & Malcolm (Toffee Kisses Book 1) Read online

  “Cydney and her Clashing Crooners! I’d forgotten about that! Awe.”

  Jenny handed her smiling daughter a potato. “Peel this while contemplating synonyms for the word clash,” she said, buttering a casserole dish. “And can we now return to the financial viability portion of our earlier conversation?”

  Several things happened at once. Jorja dropped her potato peeler, Crawford announced, “I’ve got paint drying,” and dashed upstairs to his studio, and the cat jumped up on the counter.

  “Hello, Miss Stein,” Jorja said, while rubbing the cat’s ears. “I bet Mom isn’t upset when you stay out all night with your friends!”

  Jenny continued to stir the roué she was preparing for the scalloped potatoes.

  “I’d like to present to the court, Exhibit A. Jorja, please look at Miss Stein’s belly and tell me what you see?”

  “Oh my, is she pregnant Mom?” Jorja leaned in to the cat and whispered an apology, “Sorry I nicknamed you tubby.”

  Jenny nodded with a smirk. “Face it babe, Miss Stein is going to be charged with moral turpitude.”

  Jorja started peeling the potato again.

  “Seriously Mom, Malcolm and I haven’t even kissed. And probably won’t happen until well after Frank Noodle and Beer are born,” she said sadly.

  “Frank Noodle? Beer? What?”

  “Two of Miss Stein’s children…Frank N. Stein and Beer Stein!”

  Jorja quickly looked at her Mother’s frown, and then announced “At this time, I’d like to call a recess, your Honor, as I have important financial records to peruse before presenting the rest of my case.”

  She bowed solemnly as her Mother waved her away.

  “Bang, crash, clang, discordant,” Jorja yelled as she ran upstairs to her apartment.

  In, the emergency room, Suzy Rebounder was yelling too. She was the first patient Malcolm heard as he walked on shift.

  “Code White?” he asked his RN buddy Jeff.

  “Nah, she’s a little off, but not violent. She’s getting stitched up. Fell asleep while driving home from work. Smashed up her car and cut her hand.”

  “Well, she certainly sounds awake now!” Malcolm said.

  “Yeah, I think whatever she took is wearing off; tox screen is going to take a while.” Jeff grabbed her chart and gave it to Malcolm.

  “Her name is Amanda Sinclair; how about if you conduct a mini mental exam on her while I finish up my orders?”

  Malcolm nodded his agreement and began reviewing the chart. He noticed that she lived in Regency Place, the apartment across from his.

  Wait now, he thought, is this his neighbor, Dustin Sinclair’s estranged wife? Just that afternoon, he had spoken with Dustin to review their weekend routine. Dustin had given Malcolm his spare keys, some money and a shopping list.

  “She likes roses,” Dustin had said, “so a dozen long stem red roses, and could you get a couple of those plant sachets too? You know, so the roses stay fresh for Friday night? The twins and I are heading over to Grandma’s tonight and I just won’t have time to arrange everything for tomorrow night. Thanks a bunch for setting this up for us, Malcolm!”

  Malcolm had completed the shopping list and set up Dustin’s apartment with the roses in a beautiful vase, along with laying the champagne bottle horizontally in the fridge. He wanted the champagne to chill, but didn’t want the cork to dry out. The fridge was now full of goodies, including chocolate dipped strawberries. Everything a reconciling married couple might need for a weekend retreat!

  Malcolm pushed aside the curtain to the level one emergency room. Amanda was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her now stitched hand, and yelling “What the hell did I do? How stupid am I? What happened? What did I do?”

  “You sound scared and maybe a bit frustrated,” Malcolm said quietly, as he efficiently cleaned up the scattered blood soaked gauzes and dressing tray that the doctor had left behind.

  “I am! I am very scared,” Amanda said, wiping at her face. She turned to look at Malcolm. “I don’t even know what happened tonight! I was coming home from work and I wake up here!”

  Malcolm placed the blood pressure cuff around her arm and calmly encouraged Amanda to talk about her job while he continued monitoring her vital signs.

  “I’m a mortgage broker,” she said, “Technically, it’s a typical nine to five job, but the reality is I get phone calls all hours of the day and night. On the one hand…”

  She held up her bandaged hand.

  “Well, not this one anyhow. Wait, what did you ask me? I’m having a hard time following this conversation.”

  “And whereabouts are we?” Malcolm asked as he shone a pen light in her eyes.

  “We’re in Connelly; Connelly General Hospital to be exact. I’m in my work clothes…I must have been coming home from work?”

  “That’s right,” said Malcolm gently. “And what day is it?” he continued.

  “It’s Thursday; the girls are going to their Grandma’s for the weekend and my husband and I…” she trailed off and started crying. “My girls!” she cried, “where are they? Were they in the car? Oh my god! Are they okay? Are they hurt?”

  Malcolm assured her that the girls were safe with their Grandparents and further assured her that no one else was injured. For some reason, she had fallen asleep about half way home. Fortunately, she had not been travelling very fast and had smashed into an empty bus stop. It wasn’t the safety glass from her windshield that had cut her hand, but a random piece from the bus stop.

  “What sort of recreational drugs do you use?” Malcolm asked evenly.

  “I don’t use drugs!” Amanda said hotly, her voice starting to rise again; her face flushed with anger.

  Malcolm sat down on a chair by the bed and rubbed his chin.

  “Let’s see if we can figure this out,” he said. “You were coming home, and for some reason, fell asleep. You have no memory of driving home?” he asked.

  Amanda calmed down and thought hard. “I do use energy drinks to keep going throughout the day! But that has the opposite effect. In fact, by the time I get home, I am so wound up; I jump on my mini trampoline to wear myself out. Then I get calls in the night, and I’m usually so tired in the morning that I start with coffee then energy drinks to get me going and keep me going. But drugs, I don’t use drugs!”

  Amanda turned her head to the side and frowned.

  “Did you just remember something?” Malcolm asked.

  Amanda snapped her fingers. “My secretary Donna! She said she had an all-natural sleeping product that would help me relax. She said I should take it just before I left work and it would help me sleep like a baby after supper! So I took one of the tablets she gave me.”

  “Do you have any more of these tablets? Do you remember the name?” Malcolm asked, but Amanda shook her head no to each of his questions.

  “What about the colour and shape?”

  Amanda raised her eyebrows and smiled. “It was actually a pretty blue and almost oblong, but with hard edges.”

  Malcolm stood up, said excuse me a minute and left the room. He grabbed a drug guide off the counter and flipped to the sedative-hypnotic section. He brought the book back to Amanda and asked her to look at the page and see if anything looked familiar.

  “That’s it! That blue one. What is it?”

  “A powerful sleeping aid that requires a prescription. I’m sorry to say that your secretary did not do you any favors. Her actions were not only dangerous, but criminal. Maybe she had the best of intentions, but unfortunately the drug affected you very quickly and you fell asleep while driving. Until we get your lab results confirming that this is the drug in your system, you are going to be staying here for the night.”

  The Clark family was settled in for the night. Crawford and Miss Stein were sleeping in front of the television while Jenny and Jorja were sitting at the dining room table, heads nearly touching as they bowed over tax receipts. Jorja let out a huge sigh.

  “You know
what this means Mom?” she said dejectedly.

  Jenny wisely held her tongue.

  “I have to grow up,” Jorja said, flopping herself down on the pile of papers.

  Jenny gently patted her daughter’s back. “I still have a return ticket from Never-never land,” she said.

  “Is it still valid?” Jorja mumbled sadly, “Because I don’t have enough money to pay the surcharge on the flight let alone the flight.”

  Jenny smiled. “No expiry date on this ticket,” she said.

  Jorja looked up at her Mom with a quizzical grin. “Grown women don’t pout, do they? So, the growing up starts now!”

  She put her hands up to her head. “There, I’ve put on my pillbox hat, and now I’m wearing my Capitol Barbie outfit; all I need is a glue gun, some pinking shears and five yards of grosgrain ribbon.”

  Jenny grinned and shouted over to her husband, “She’s got her Capitol Barbie outfit on Crawford; it’s going to get serious all up in here!”

  Miss Stein stretched out her right paw and left leg, then stood up and started sniffing her human’s moustache.

  “Family meeting!” shouted Jorja, as she strode over to her Dad and pushed in the leg rest on his lounger, jolting both human and cat into wakefulness.

  Jenny gave Crawford the talking stick, which he promptly banged on the floor, saying “Here, here; this meeting now called to order. Present are Family Clark and that feline full of kittens and moral turpitude, Miss Heidi Stein. Who will speak first?”

  Jorja grabbed the stick and announced that she was now officially an adult. “This being so,” she continued, “I am now entitled to know all family secrets. Having just learned the secret of my financial status…”

  “And your inability to sing,” her Mother added helpfully.

  “And my inability to sing,” Jorja repeated frowning, “I feel it incumbent upon you, my beloved parental units, to divulge any and all family secrets that hitherto fore have been, well, kept secret.”

  Jenny and Crawford looked at one another and shrugged. Jorja looked at each of them. Miss Stein licked her butt.

  “Oh come on guys,” Jorja pleaded, “Don’t we have any family secrets? Like, we’re related to royalty?” she asked hopefully.

  Jenny and Crawford shrugged again.

  Jorja pointed both her index fingers at them. “We are royalty?” she asked excitedly.

  After seeing yet another shrug, Jorja leaned forward and patted Miss Stein on the head. She whispered to the cat, “I’ve had one motto I’ve always lived by, dignity, always dignity. Why not give it a whirl and stop licking your butt?”

  The cat looked at her, paused for a moment and continued. It was Jorja’s turn to shrug. She twisted up her face and tapped her nose. Her eyes opened wide.

  “I think I’ve got it! I’m adopted! Yes, that’s it. A band of itinerant musicians dropped me off, due to the aforementioned tone deafness, and we’ve lived happily ever after. You occasionally get postcards or email from the band, outlining their current tour dates and giving you a ten percent discount on tickets. Please tell me when and where my parents are next playing! ” Jorja closed her eyes tightly. “And I think we could negotiate that ten percent deal, truth be told,” she added.

  Jorja’s Dad gave a small cough which startled Miss Stein into a standing position. She arched her back and twisted around Jorja’s feet.

  “Ah, Mother?” Jorja asked, “You seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time inspecting your nails. Unless you say something, rather quickly, at this juncture, my suspicions that I’m adopted will continue to grow.”

  Jenny looked over at her husband.

  “I think I’m going to need a nail file,” she said.

  Chapter Three:

  Or revelations and flirtations

  Malcolm had a strict rule when he worked night shift, namely, ‘no calls before 4:00 pm’ so when his phone rang at two pm on Friday; he knew it must be Jorja and he knew that it must be crucially important as she would say.

  “I’m adopted!” she screamed when he answered his phone.

  “Good morning?” Malcolm yawned.

  “I’m adopted! The Bistro! Now!” he heard before the click told him she was gone.

  After he hastily dressed, Malcolm looked longingly at the canister full of large flake oatmeal. “I shall suffer through the coffee shop pastry for breakfast,” he determined, as he picked up two squid legs up from the kitchen counter.

  He put Jorja’s nightie adornments into a small Ziploc bag and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “That’s my girl,” he said aloud as he thought of her quirkiness. Malcolm suddenly frowned. “No, not yet, she’s got some growing up to do first.” He tipped his head to one side. Maybe this adoption business might be the catalyst.

  When he arrived at the Bistro, he saw that Jorja’s flower plastered smart car was already parked in a pull through parking stall far from the other vehicles. When Malcolm walked in the restaurant, Jorja was easy to spot too. For some reason she was wearing a high visibility vest in neon orange.

  “Doing a spot of traffic direction this afternoon, are we?” Malcolm asked.

  She had her fingers tented and was rapidly tapping them together. “Don’t think less of me,” she whispered, “but I’m adopted!” Her right knee started jumping up and down.

  “Jorja, please, before you go ballistic, can I just have a cup of coffee first? And could you please take off that vest? The cones in my eyes are having a serious out of body experience because you look like a traffic cone.”

  “Okay, I’ll just sit here and wait. But just so you know, I’m still adopted,” she whispered.

  Malcolm purposely drank his coffee slowly, despite the little whispered updates from Jorja.

  “Still adopted,” she’d whisper.

  Malcolm finally put his coffee cup down and said in a firm voice, “Now about this adoption business…I don’t know why you’re whispering, for one. And for two, have you forgotten, I’m adopted? My Aunt and Uncle took me in when my parents died and, while they didn’t officially adopt me, they did become my legal guardians. I don’t see why…”

  “Sure,” Jorja interrupted, throwing up her hands and sitting back in the booth. “Make this all about you!”

  Malcolm stared solemnly at Jorja.

  She eventually blushed and asked quietly, “Did I just qualify for an etiquette citation?”

  “Yes. It falls under the category of ‘imputing bad motives’. Jorja, you know I love listening to your stories, but sometimes, I need a friend who listens to me. Okay, you’re adopted and indeed that is big news, but I need to talk about events in my life too.”

  Jorja closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

  “Righto!” she exclaimed, “I’m there for you friend! Let’s start again. Good morning Malcolm.”

  “Good morning friend.”

  “How was your shift last night? My, you are up early this fine Friday afternoon! You must have had an important meeting this afternoon with a friend who was adopted, to be up this early.”

  “You’re in the red zone Jorja.”

  “So, what’s on your mind, friend? What’s the burning question of your day?”

  Malcolm smiled sadly. “Actually, Jorja, I have been asking myself a burning question of late. Should I reach out to my Aunt and Uncle again, after all that’s transpired?”

  Jorja was somewhat shocked. Malcolm rarely spoke about his family. She became very interested and leaned forward, accidentally knocking his pastry on the floor.

  “I have been thinking a lot about family. Although I can’t tell you what happened on my shift last night, confidentiality and all that, I can tell you that I’ve been thinking about how life is just too short to cut yourself off from people who love you, or at least, you hope still love you.”

  “Go on,” Jorja said quietly.

  “I have an older cousin, Stephen. I’m a couple of years younger and we would do everything together. After Mom and Dad died, Stephen
and I would play soccer, go dirt bike racing, and take cooking lessons together…”

  Jorja raised an eyebrow, but nodded encouragingly.

  “Even though my Aunt and Uncle made me part of their family I always felt like I owed them and should pay my way. Because my life had changed in an instant, I became kind of obsessed with planning. I think it was my way of trying to stay in control.”

  “Makes sense,” Jorja said, returning the pastry to the table.

  “So, while still in middle school, I mapped out my life. I took carpentry, and then pre-apprenticeship training in high school, along with business administration courses and accounting. By the time I had graduated, I already was well into my apprenticeship and once I received my journeyman papers, I started my own construction company.”

  Jorja secretly thought, that would explain those lovely muscles under his shirt, but fortunately didn’t speak her mind. Instead she said, “Which doesn’t seem to segue to being a Nurse; so what happened?”

  “The short story: my cousin stole my identity. He racked up bills and loans in my name, in my company name and even in my dead parents’ names. My fledging company went bankrupt; as did I. Even my Aunt and Uncle had a part to play in the betrayal. It profoundly affected me. I was really lost. I re-assessed my life and decided that I wanted a job not focused on making money; one that involved helping others. I re-trained as a Nurse and here I am.”

  “That’s why you’re so cautious about everything. But why reach out to your family now? You’ve clearly been alienated for some time.”

  Malcolm clasped his hands and leaned forward to confide in Jorja. Just before he could speak, a loud voice boomed, “Did you say he looked like an alien? I’d have to disagree! He looks more like Mr. Clean to me, with his big bald head!”

  The thief, Jesse Spelunker, slid into the booth beside Jorja.

  “So we meet again,” he boomed. He smiled his thousand watt smile at Jorja. “And what is on your darling mind this afternoon?” he asked.