Bet Me

  Min started to laugh. “You did pick him out. You sent me over there to meet him. Now, that’s funny.”

  “A fairy tale,” Cynthie said, sounding as if she wasn’t sure they were serious.

  Bonnie nodded. “Cal gave her the ball cap because it’s part of his quest.”

  “No, he gave her the ball cap because he’s courting,” Cynthie said, a little sharply. “It’s part of the attraction stage.”

  “Attraction stage,” Liza said.

  “He is not attracted—” Min began.

  “There are four stages to mature love,” Cynthie said. “Assumption, attraction, infatuation, and attachment.”

  “Now, see, I would have called the way he looks at her infatuation,” Liza said.

  “Excuse me?” Min said, looking at her best friend, the betrayer.

  “It’s the fairy tale,” Bonnie said.

  “It’s attraction,” Cynthie said flatly.

  “It’s love, a random reaction,” Liza said. “Chaos theory.”

  “Hey,” Min said, and they looked at her. “It’s a kind act by a friend because I don’t want freckles. Not everything is a theory.”

  “The fairy tale is not a theory,” Bonnie said. “Even if you won’t believe it’s happening to you, it’s happening to me.” She smiled at them all, too happy to be smug.

  “So how’s Roger?” Min said, more than willing to have somebody else be the topic at hand.

  “He is The One,” Bonnie said. “He’s going to propose in a couple of weeks and I’ll say yes. I told my mama to plan the wedding for August.”

  “He told you he’s going to propose?” Cynthie said, and when Bonnie looked at her, surprised, she said, “I’m writing a book on this. It’s none of my business, but I am interested.”

  “Oh,” Bonnie said. “Well, no, he hasn’t told me. I just know.”

  Min tried to look supportive, but the silence that settled over them must have reeked of skepticism because Bonnie turned back to the field and called Roger’s name. When he came trotting over to them, she said, “Honey, are you going to ask me to marry you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I didn’t want to rush you, so I thought I’d wait till our one-month anniversary. It’s only eleven days.”

  “Very sensible,” Bonnie said. “Just so you know, I’m going to say yes.”

  Roger sighed. “That takes a lot of the worry out of it.” He leaned over and kissed her and went back to the field.

  “That was either really sweet or really annoying,” Liza said.

  “It was sweet,” Min said, trying to imagine Cal saying any of that. Stop thinking about him. “And annoying.”

  “I told you,” Bonnie said. “It’s the fairy tale. You have to believe.”

  “Positive thinking,” Cynthie said, nodding. “There’s good evidence for that. Could I interview you? For my book. Because this is fascinating. You’ve moved into the infatuation phase very quickly.”

  “Sure,” Bonnie said. “But it’s not infatuation. This is True Love. Like Cal and Min.”

  “Will you stop that?” Min said.

  “Of course,” Cynthie said to Bonnie with no conviction whatsoever, and they began to talk.

  Min took a deep breath and turned back to Liza. “Cynthie seems nice,” she said quietly, hoping for a conversation that didn’t have Cal in it.

  “She is,” Liza said. “But I think she wants Cal back.”

  Min gave up and stared out at the field where Cal was talking to somebody on third base. His face was serious again, and the kid nodded, hanging on his every word. What a darling, she thought and then remembered, No, beast, but that wasn’t working anymore. Well, it had never worked, really.

  “Are you going out tonight?” Liza asked.

  “Yes, but just as friends,” Min said. “He’s doing me a favor. We’re going to my mother’s so she can stop worrying about him being a vile seducer.”

  Liza shook her head, looking doubtful. “I don’t think meeting Cal is going to reassure your mother.”

  “Why not? Elvis likes him. And Elvis has very good instincts.”

  “Elvis?” Liza said, sounding alarmed.

  “The cat. I named him Elvis,” Min said.

  Liza sighed. “Thank God. I thought you’d finally cracked.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who believes in the fairy tale,” Min said. “Or in chaos theory, for that matter.”

  “Or the four-step program to love,” Liza said, jerking her head toward Cynthie, who was listening to Bonnie finish up the theory of fairy tale love.

  “Right,” Min said. “That’s all garbage. You don’t need a theory, you just have to be practical, figure out what it is you want in a man, and then find one who has those things. Make a plan. Stick to it.” Her eyes went to Cal. “Don’t get distracted.”

  Liza rolled her eyes. “Or you could just fall the fuck in love.”

  “Oh, right,” Min said, looking away from Cal. “That’s like saying you could just fall off a building. Because it won’t hurt until you land.”

  Liza drew back. “I just meant—”

  “No,” Min said as several people turned to look at her. “You have to be sensible. It’s not silly love songs and sloppy kisses, it’s dangerous. People die for it. People die from it. Wars are fought. Empires fall.”

  “Uh, Min . . .”

  “It can ruin your life,” Min said, shutting her eyes so she wouldn’t look for Cal. “Which is why I’m staying friends with Cal, nothing more. I’d have to be insane to think there could be anything permanent. Masochistic. Suicidal. Delusional.”

  “Uh huh,” Liza said.

  “So that’s my plan,” Min said. “And I’m sticking to it.”

  “Right,” Liza said.

  When the game was over, Harry came up and said, “Uncle Cal said we can go to lunch if you’ll come,” and Min said, “Well . . .” and thought Calvin, you nephew-exploiting bastard. Still, lunch wouldn’t kill her. It was okay to have lunch with a friend. And his nephew. Like a chaperone.

  “Uh huh,” Liza said, even though Min hadn’t spoken.

  She made him take them to a retro diner where she and Harry played Elvis all the way through lunch, a new experience for Harry, who’d been raised on Chopin. Cal didn’t seem to mind. When they dropped her off, Harry said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Min,” and she said, “Yes, you will. Dinner at Grandma’s.” Harry looked a little confused, and Cal said, “Harrison, I will pay you fifty bucks if you’ll call your grandmother that tomorrow.” “I don’t think so,” Harry said, and Min got out of the car feeling that tomorrow was going to explain a lot about Calvin Morrisey, assuming he lived through dinner that night with her parents.

  “Keep the cap, Minnie,” Cal said when she tried to hand it back to him through the window. “You look good in it. I’ll pick you up at eight.” Then he drove off and left her feeling ridiculously happy, which couldn’t be good.

  “You’re a mess,” she told herself, and went to get ready for dinner with her mother.

  That evening, Cal picked up Min in his ancient Mercedes. She was sitting on the bottom step when he got there, dressed in a plain black dress that she’d pulled over her knees. She looked like a cranky nun.

  “What are you doing down here?” he said when he got out of the car.

  “You have to put up with my parents,” she said, standing up. “It didn’t seem fair to make you do those steps, too.”

  “I don’t mind climbing as long as you’re at the top.” Cal looked down at her feet. She was wearing plain black flats, no toes showing at all. “Why the awful shoes?”

  “They’re not awful,” Min said. “They’re classic. Like your car, which is very nice and yet somehow not what I’d pictured you in.”

  “Graduation present.” Cal opened the door for her. “Never look a gift car in the mouth. Get in, Minnie, we do not want to be late.”

  When he was in the driver’s seat, Min said, “For the MBA?”

  “What?”
Cal said as he started the car.

  “The car. A graduation present for the MBA? I got a briefcase, so I’m trying to put things into perspective here.”

  “High school,” Cal said and pulled out into the street. “High school,” Min said, nodding. “What did they get you for the MBA? A yacht?”

  “A place in my dad’s firm.”

  “But—”

  “I declined the gift,” Cal said. “How’s Elvis?”

  “Really healthy,” Min said, sounding mystified. “I took him to the vet and he says he’s in great condition. Just weird.”

  “Like so much of my life lately,” Cal said. “Speaking of which, is there anything I should know about your family before I get there?”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Min said.

  “Minerva, I am going. Prep me for your parents, please.”

  “There’s nothing, really,” Min said. “My mother is always polite, and my father is not talkative unless you hit a nerve. Don’t hit a nerve.”

  “Right,” Cal said. “Could I have a list of nerves?”

  “Insurance fraud, younger men who want his job, music after 1970, and sex with his daughters.”

  “Sex with his daughters,” Cal said.

  Min nodded. “My father will assume you’re trying to debauch me.”

  “Your father is a keen judge of character,” Cal said. “How about your mother?”

  “Well, normally, she’d be scoping you out for son-in-law potential. There would be a quiz by dessert.”

  “Written or oral?”

  “Oral.”

  “Good. Oral I’m good at.” The silence stretched out until he said, “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  Min stared straight ahead. “Perfectly all right. There won’t be a quiz. My mother has other things on her mind at the moment.”

  “Does she have any other issues I should know about?”

  “Yes, but they’re all about me.”

  Cal shook his head. “I don’t care. Give me that list, too.”

  “Eating carbs, wearing white cotton underwear, not losing weight, failing to hold onto my ex-boyfriend whom she loved,” Min said. “I don’t think any of those are going to come up in your conversation with her.”

  “My mother likes my ex, too,” Cal said. “I think it’s laziness. She just doesn’t want to learn a new name. Who else is going to be there?”

  “My sister, Diana. You’re safe with her. She’s nuts right now because she’s getting married in a week, but she’s great just the same. If things get too awful, you can sit and look at Di. She’s beautiful.”

  “Good to know,” Cal said. “Mom, Dad, Diana, you, me. Cozy group.”

  “And Greg,” Min said, trying to keep her voice from going flat. “My sister’s fiancé.”

  “Right. Greg of the faulty memory. How’s that going?”

  “Something’s wrong,” Min said. “I don’t know what it is but he’s not helping. The thing is, he’s not a bad guy, except for dumping Wet which he had every right to do, and he adores Diana, so I can’t figure it out.” She looked over at Cal. “See what you think of him.”

  “Me?” Cal said, surprised.

  “You’re a good judge of character,” Min said. “Intuitive. Intuit Greg for me.”

  “The chances of me figuring out what’s wrong over dinner are slim,” Cal said as Min’s cell phone rang.

  When she pulled it out of her purse, he said, “A plain black cell phone. You lied to me that first night, Minnie.”

  “Which you knew,” Min said, and answered the phone. “Hello. What?” She listened for a minute and then said, “Oh, for crying out loud.” She listened again and said, “Di, it’s Saturday evening. I don’t know where . . . Wait a minute.” She turned to Cal. “Greg promised to get the wine for dinner.”

  “Let me guess,” Cal said.

  “You wouldn’t have a bottle or two at your apartment, would you?” Min said.

  “Emilio’s,” Cal said, and made a U-turn.

  Min turned back to the phone. “Cal’s going to fix it.” There was a note of pride in the way she said it, and Cal grinned. Then she turned off her phone and said, “You are a prince.”

  “Thank you,” Cal said. “Say something bitchy to me, will you? You’re confusing me.”

  He stopped and got the wine, and when he was back in the car, Min looked at the labels on the bottles. “These were expensive, weren’t they?”

  “Not really,” Cal said. “About forty bucks each.”

  Min started to laugh. “Serves Greg right, the dumbass.”

  Ten minutes later, Cal had followed Min’s directions and parked in front of a fairly large, fairly new house. Min said, “You know, you can still get out of this. Drop me off and I’ll tell—”

  “Nope.” Cal opened his car door. “Stay there.”

  “Stay where?” Min said, reaching for her door handle.

  Cal came around the car and caught the door for as she opened it. “You cannot leap out of cars without assistance.” He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet as she got out, and she ended up closer to him than he’d planned, which was fine by him. “It makes me look weak and powerless when you get out without me,” he said, watching the breeze ruffle her curls.

  “Yeah, weak and powerless,” she said. “I bet you get that a lot.” She detoured around him as he shut the car door, and he caught sight of someone vanishing from a window. “Well, the good news is, you just made points with my mother. She was scoping you out from the window.”

  “Great,” Cal said, taking her elbow. “Now all we have to do is survive dinner.”

  Min’s father met them in the hall, a lumbering man with a shock of blond hair and heavy white eyebrows who should have been hearty and welcoming but instead had the vaguely paranoid look of a sheepdog whose sheep were plotting against him.

  “Dad, this is Calvin Morrisey,” Min said. “Cal, this is my father, George Dobbs.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Calvin.” George’s gruff voice was firm as if to belie any indication that he wasn’t pleased, but his eyes telegraphed, What are you up to?

  “Pleased to be here, sir,” Cal lied, and Min patted him on the back, which was more comforting than he could have imagined.

  “You’re late,” George said to Min. “We’ve already had cocktails.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Cal said, and Min said, “No, you’re not. It was my fault, Dad, we had to go back for something.”

  “Well, come in now,” George said, and Min sighed and went into the dining room, and Cal followed and met Min’s dragon of a mother.

  The house was a showplace, clearly done by a decorator, and Min’s mother, standing in her perfect living room, matched it: Both were designer creations with no warmth whatsoever. The house at least had some color, but Min’s mother was small, thin, dark-haired, dressed in black, and groomed to within an inch of her life, the exact opposite of Min. “This is my mother, Nanette,” Min said, practically chirping. “Mother, this is Calvin Morrisey,” and Nanette Dobbs said, “Welcome, Calvin,” in a voice that could have flash-frozen fish.

  “Did I do something?” Cal whispered when she’d turned to speak to George.

  “You frenched me in the park on a picnic table,” Min whispered back.

  “How do they know that?” Cal said.

  “Greg ratted us out,” Min said. “He also mentioned your hit-and-run past.”

  “And I got him wine,” Cal said.

  “And here he is,” Min said. She lifted her voice and said, “Greg! This is Cal Morrisey.”

  Greg was young and smooth, clearly polished by prep schools and buffed in the gym until his surface gleamed. He smiled at Cal and then realized who he was shaking hands with. “Oh,” Greg said.

  Cal waited for something more, but that was it. “Yep,” he said and leaned forward. “The wine is in the front seat of my car.”

  Greg exhaled in relief. “Thanks, man,” he said, clasping Cal on the arm. “
Be right back,” he said in a voice that was a fraction too loud. “Left the wine in the car.”

  “And this is my sister, Diana,” Min said, her voice softening, and Cal looked up to see a younger, sweeter version of the dragon. Diana was slender, dark, and lovely, and clearly the princess in the family. She beamed when she saw Min, and welcomed Cal with more warmth than everyone else in the room put together, and asked about his baseball team.

  “Nice kid,” he told Min when Diana had gone to find the amnesiac she was marrying.

  “Kid?” Min said.

  “Cute,” Cal said. “But she’s not you.”

  “You’re not the first to have noticed,” Min said. “Listen, don’t let the ’rents get you down. They’re just . . .” Her voice faded away as she tried to think of something to call them.

  “Fine,” Cal said, and then Nanette called Min away as Greg showed up with the wine.

  When Min came back a few minutes later, all her curls were pulled back in combs, and they went in to dinner.

  “What’s with the hair?” Cal said in her ear when they were seated.

  “It’s not flattering to my round face when it’s left loose,” Min said. “I knew better.”

  “I liked it,” Cal said, and Min said, “I did, too,” and then dinner started.

  “So what is it you do for a living, Calvin?” George asked when the soup had been dispatched with small talk and the prime rib had been served.

  “Training seminars,” Cal said, keeping a wary eye on Nanette, who had been staring at him throughout the soup course. He couldn’t call it a frown since her forehead wasn’t furrowed, but it was not warm.

  “So you’re a teacher,” George said. “There much money in that?”

  “Dad,” Min said.

  “There’s enough,” Cal said, distracted because Min had discreetly begun to pat his back again. He was grateful to her for the support, but it felt way too good to be something he should be enjoying in front of her father.

  “What firm are you with?” George said.

  “Morrisey, Packard, Capa.” Cal smiled at Min’s mother. “This beef is excellent, Mrs. Dobbs.”

  “Thank you.” Nanette Dobbs did not look appeased.

  “Morrissey,” George said. “So you work for the old man. Not too hard getting that job, huh?”