Unnatural Calamities Read Free Page B

Rachel, who so rarely showed insecurity.
    “Don’t get me wrong, sweetie. I’d love to be your mom. You are the best thing in my life, and I consider it a privilege to be your aunt. But it’s too complicated when you get started on these big lies. Believe me, I know.”
    Rachel rolled her eyes. “But you promise.”
    “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”
     
    “Everything all right?” Mr. Cheerleader Dunham looked up as they walked back to the table.
    “Yes.” Rachel turned red and stared at her shoes.
    Mr. Dunham frowned, an impressive scowl with those dark eyebrows of his. He directed his glare at Janey. “Is Rachel okay?”
    “Yeah, sure.” Janey smiled. “No problem.”
    “She’s a good kid,” Mr. Suddenly Severe Dunham said.
    “Of course,” Janey agreed.
    He stared at her for another long moment, the brows still knit together in what had to be disgust. Did he think she’d dragged Rachel into the bathroom for a beating?
    “I’m fine, really,” said Rachel quickly. She even added a convincing smile.
    But the Wrath of Dunham was aimed at Janey. Maybe the man had noticed Janey’s open-mouthed admiration of him at her apartment. And he was making it very clear that he was not interested. Fine with her. She didn’t care if some overly fabulous suburban dad didn’t like her.
    At least she’d have an interesting story to tell Margaret the accountant as they waited around for the next practice to end. Maybe Margaret, a lifelong native of West Farmbrook, could interpret the strange habits of the indigenous male. Invite a woman out and then act like she’s pond scum. Perhaps it was a pre-courting ritual or test—see how the female reacts to mixed messages.
    It almost made Janey miss the straightforward men she met in her former life, like the guy in the biker bar who’d strolled up to her and said, “Hey, you’re kinda cute. Wanna screw?”
    Direct, at any rate. Unlike this Dunham who watched her continuously, but with something like disapproval.
    They shared a large pizza and drank cola.
    Everyone exclaimed the food was delicious, though Janey privately thought the crust not quite chewy enough and the sauce a bit dull. Nice mix of cheeses, though. If she ran the show, she’d make sure they had a good supply of real basil. None of this dried nonsense. Easy enough to grow it and freeze it in sheets.
    Beth had screwed up Janey’s old recipe for cheesy basil en croute and customers had stopped requesting it. But Janey could resurrect it once she got started and…
    Mr. Dunham was staring at her again. At least now he had a neutral expression, no more thunderous dark brow.
    “Do you do that with all of your food?” he asked.
    A disemboweled slice of pizza lay in pieces all over Janey’s plate.
    “Just to taste what’s going on,” she explained. “Easiest way to figure out ingredients.”
    “Janey is the best cook ever,” said Rachel proudly. “She wants to be a caterer.”
    Mr. Dunham smiled, and then ruined the gorgeous view by stating the obvious. “It’s very hard work.”
    “I know.” Janey poked at the cheese again. Not the best mozzarella, but not the worst either. “I’ve worked in the food industry for years.”
    “And your insurance rates would be sky high.”
    She stabbed the cheese with a fork and ate a piece. Why did he say “your” in such a fruity tone?
    Aha! There was a trace of feta in this mix; she knew it. Not a bad combination with the olives. She’d add more feta, though.
    “I’ll tell you what,” the Dunham was saying. “I might be able to help you. No promises.”
    Figures a man that gorgeous would be a salesman. She gave him a skeptical smile. “You sell insurance, right?”
    “No, I invest in businesses.”
    She leaned back in her chair and stared at him. “You are kidding me. You’re a whatsamahoosey? An adventure whatsit?”
    All those months of begging and sweet-talking loan officers and all she had to do was go out to