Melinda Curtis - The Best-Kept Secret

That was so unfair. Rosie pushed the lettuce around with her fork, refusing to let Casey see he’d upset her. She’d turned down numerous assignments because she couldn’t accompany candidates on most evening or out-of-state appearances. She tried not to work until after Casey went to bed. Rosie put her son first as much as possible and despite that he was still able to make her feel guilty.

Casey wasn’t about to let up. “Mo-mmy—”

Someone knocked on the door. If they weren’t busy downstairs, Mrs. Chin sometimes delivered.

“That’s our pizza. Why don’t you get out the plates, Case?”

“I hate setting the table.” Casey crossed his thin arms over his chest.

“It’s only two plates. You’d hate it more if you had another place to set…say for a little brother.”

“PIZZA’S HERE.” Hud held up the take-out boxes when Rosie’s face didn’t register a warm smile of welcome. She wore relaxed blue jeans and a short T-shirt that hugged her curves, but Rosie seemed wound up tighter than the curls she’d caught in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. “I ordered breadsticks and noodles, too.”

“Is that the mayor?” Casey peeked from behind the door.

Rosie scowled at Casey’s reference, while Hud’s smile widened.

“Hey, you don’t have work clothes on.” The boy wiggled past Rosie’s leg and took in Hud’s jeans and sweater with an approving nod. “We already watched the videos, so you missed out.”

Given Rosie’s closed expression, the boy was going to be his best bet to get inside. Hud bent his knees to bring him closer to the kid’s level. “I offered to buy you dinner. But when I stopped in downstairs they said you’d already ordered, so I did the next best thing—I delivered it.”

“You shanghaied our dinner?” Rosie crossed her arms over her chest.

Kneeling at her feet, Hud gave Rosie his most charming grin. “I told you we had to talk. I’ll let you have your food if you let me in.”

“Are you someone’s daddy?” Imitating his mom, Casey crossed his twiglike arms over his chest. Hudson recognized the calculating expression on the little guy’s face. “I don’t think you are ’cause daddies don’t steal people’s pizza.”

“I’m not a daddy,” Hud confirmed with a wink. “And it would only be stealing if I ate it all myself.”

“Good, ’cause my mommy’s sell-batey and I don’t have a little brother.” Casey’s long face split into a grin as he gazed up at Rosie. “I like the mayor.”

Hud straightened and tried to look innocent, wondering what “sell-batey” meant in adult speak.

“Casey,” Rosie warned. She seemed more tense than when she’d first opened the door.

The kid stood at attention and tried to tow his mother’s line. “Leave him outside, Mommy. We can call the cops. Stealing isn’t nice.”

“I agree,” Rosie said, reaching for her pizza with a dangerous gleam in her eye. “Hand over the food slowly and no one gets hurt.”

Hud took a step back, his mind racing. He could see the small table behind them with two take-out containers with salad, glasses of milk and a chess piece. Gambling, Hud appealed to Casey again. “Tell you what. If you let me in, I’ll play a game of chess with you.”

“You play chess?” the little guardian asked with interest.

“I haven’t played in a long time, but I still remember how.” Things were looking up. “It was one of my favorite games as a kid.”

Casey tried pushing the door open wider but Rosie held firm. “You can’t con your way in by sweet-talking my five-year-old.”

In spite of the stakes, Hud was enjoying their wrangling.

“What does con mean?” Casey asked before Hud could regroup.

“He’s trying to trick you. I doubt he knows how to play chess.”

With a gasp, Casey shook his finger at Hud. “Lying and stealing aren’t nice. Mr. Stephanopolis at the park is good at chess. He doesn’t lie and he’s better at chess than you.”

“Probably.” Hud looked at Rosie. “I bet Mr. Stephanopolis never stole someone’s pizza.”

Rosie shook her head, but her expression wasn’t as foreboding as before.

“Mr. Quan at the senior center is better than you,” Casey continued.

“Most likely.” This had not been the best of days for Hud’s ego.

“I could beat you in less than ten moves.”

Hud didn’t skip a beat. “You could probably beat me in five.”

Rosie’s little doorman grinned. “That would be so cool.” Taking Rosie by surprise, Casey stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

“I’LL GET THE CHESS SET.” Casey scampered down the hall to his room as Hudson elbowed his way into her home and shut the door.

Rosie blocked Hudson’s path to the table. He loomed above her wearing the victorious grin of the devil wrapped in a rain-splattered jacket and blue jeans. “Of all the low creatures on the planet, you have got to be the lowest. Manipulating a little boy like that—”

“Any manipulating was purely on Casey’s part. That boy definitely inherited your political savvy. You didn’t see that coming, did you?” Hudson moved to the left, but she sidestepped.

Rosie didn’t want to think where Casey’s skills came from or fall prey to the impulse to laugh with Hudson at Casey’s cleverness. “Why don’t you just hand over the pizza and make your apologies?” She reached for the box again, but Hudson lifted it out of her grasp. With a glance behind her, Rosie lowered her voice. “He’s sharp, but I’ll look like the bad guy if I ask you to go. A gentleman would leave.”

“I think we’ve already established that you don’t believe I’m a gentleman.” Hudson moved to the right, but so did she. “I didn’t have lunch and I’ve been holding this very tasty-smelling pizza so long, I could eat the box. So if you could save your remarks until I’ve had a couple bites, I’ll be more able to defend myself.”

“I don’t want you to be able to defend yourself.” It was bad enough she was constantly on guard around him.

“Afraid you won’t be able to argue your way out of this? All you’ve done today is run away.”

Rosie was so flabbergasted that Hudson managed to get past her. She followed him to the kitchen. “I had to leave our meeting because I had a lunch appointment. I had to leave my lunch meeting to pick up Casey.”

“You forgot to mention how you fled upstairs instead of standing your ground with me after the video store. See? Running.” Hudson put the food on the counter and began opening her cupboards. “Where are the plates?”

“I’m not getting rid of you until I hear you out, am I?”

“No.”

With a sigh, Rosie admitted defeat and gave Hudson a plate. “We drink milk with dinner. You aren’t allergic by any chance…?”

“No.” His triumphant smile transformed his otherwise stern face. “We’ll talk after I play chess, right?”

“What choice do I have?”

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO let me win, are you?” Casey scratched his head, sending a lock of hair sticking out as he leaned over the chess board.

They sat at the small oak kitchen table with the undersized living room to one side and the miniscule kitchen to the other. As big as Hud was, he should have felt cramped. Instead, it felt welcoming. Rosie’s home was an eclectic mix of San Francisco’s cultures—from a tie-dyed tea towel in the kitchen to a Chinese calendar on the wall to a large abalone shell on the mantel—set against more traditional furnishings.

“Do you want me to let you win?” They’d only just started the game and Hud wanted to know the rules early. Although Rosie was in the living room reading the paper, Hud could tell she was listening.

Casey looked up from studying the board. He’d inherited his serious brown eyes from his mother. “No. I can’t get better if you let me win.”

“You need to earn it,” Hud agreed. Still, he hoped the kid was sharp enough to beat him if he played sloppy.

Casey nodded and returned his attention to the board.

After some consideration, Hud moved his queen—in this case the salt shaker since Casey couldn’t find the white queen—out onto the board. He’d already advanced a couple of pawns and a knight. Five moves in and Hud hadn’t lost yet.

“You don’t think ahead,” Casey noted, inching a pawn forward.

“I’m not afraid to put my power pieces into play.” Hud sent his bishop out to take Casey’s pawn.

“That won’t win games.” Casey took Hud’s bishop with his knight. “Check.”

Hud hadn’t seen that coming. Was he going to be defeated in ten moves?

Later, after Casey had beaten Hud twice in less than twenty moves, Hud was that much closer to a straight conversation with Rosie. She poured coffee into mugs and tried to send Casey to the bathtub.

“Just one more game, Mommy.” Casey sat in a chair at the table with his head on his arms, looking up at Hud as if he was Casey’s hero. It felt nice.

“Bath tub.” Rosie put an edge on the command. “This is the second time I’ve asked.”

Casey slid out of his chair and ambled toward the hall, touching the couch, the curio cabinet and the television as if searching for a reason to pause.

“Go,” Rosie ordered. When he was gone, she admitted, “Sometimes I feel like such a bad mom. I’m constantly nagging and worrying and late…” She trailed off.

“He seems like a good kid to me. I haven’t seen him throw himself on the ground in a screaming fit or pick his nose.”

The sound of water thundering into a bathtub was muffled by a door closing.

“Let’s hope you don’t see that.” Her smile included Hud, which was a refreshing change from the dagger-filled expressions she’d given him earlier today. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.” She looked worn out, more in need of a glass of wine than coffee. “Should you be drinking that stuff this late at night?”

“Are you kidding? After Casey goes to bed my second shift starts. I work every night until about midnight.” Rosie’s admission came as no surprise. She’d gotten far for one so young. She brought him a mug with a Chinese proverb on it—A fall into a ditch makes you wiser.

Well, he’d already fallen and considered himself bruised, but less gullible.

“You can’t get ahead without putting in the extra time.” Rosie sat across from him.

“I know that.” Here was the opening he’d been looking for. “I’ve spent all week looking critically at the situation in the city. I have several ideas—”

“Before you go any further, let’s go back to the two obstacles you’ll need to overcome—the allegations behind your resignation from the Senate and—”

“If you insist on telling me that I have no personality after the day we’ve had, I may have to call in character witnesses.” Hud couldn’t believe how closed-minded Rosie was being about this.

“You’re missing the point completely.” Rosie covered his hand with hers ever so briefly, but long enough to stir his pulse. “In the public’s mind you’ve become this icon of wealth and power. You’re a myth, a fairy tale.” Avoiding his gaze, she added cream to her coffee. “You lock yourself away in a tower, don’t grant interviews, don’t admit to missteps or misfortunes. Of course, the voters can’t identify with you.”

Hud’s face felt wooden. “So you think Roger Bartholomew is a better choice?”

“It would be more to my liking if Roger switched parties and ran for the Republicans.” Rosie still wouldn’t look at him, paying careful attention to the sugar she was adding to her mug.