Almost Partners (Chapter One)

"You are late," Lois yelled from the front stoop. "And you have the keys."

"Sorry." Clark opened the door and hopped out of the U-Haul. "Perry pretty much had me empty his garage to make it believable."

"Or to get free labor," Lois snorted. "Could you be more gullible?" She moved to the back and opened the latch. The door rolled upwards, revealing boxes, broken lamps, a wicker changing screen, old sports equipment and all the many things that were usually banished to garages. "Yikes. Where are we going to put this?"

"Our garage?" Clark pointed to the ranch-style house.

Lois looked around her at all the nearly identical ranch houses. "They probably tore down blocks of beautiful brownstones to build this pastel Hell." It was like a phony California suburb in the north side of the city. "I don't like this place, Kent."

"Well, Lanie," he said pointedly. "It won't be for long."

"Ugh! I hate our names. Why couldn't we just change our last name and keep our first names?"

Clark shrugged and leaned on the bumper of the truck. "Perry picked them. Probably to keep it easy."

"Kent and Lanie Cameron," she sneered. "Sounds like a couple with matching terriers who freelance for Dog Fancy and love candlepin bowling."

"Close. We're accountants and we met at a Star Trek convention."

"Nice try," she smirked. "Um... You can be an accountant. I'm... a writer."

"Then what excuse will you have for driving into the city? And what if they ask what you write?"

"Okay, fine. You're right with the accountant angle, though. It should be nice and boring so no one wants to hear about it... Hmmm... Bank manager."

"Good one. But where did we meet?"

"Not at a Star Trek convention. Don't we want people to talk to us?" She shooed him off the bumper. "Let's take this inside. It's hot out here for November."

He slid the back down. "I didn't notice."

"Well, a mere mortal like me actually feels the heat, Clark." She shook her head and stepped toward the house. Where had that come from?

"It's Kent," he said from behind her.

"Yeah, yeah..." Her head ached. She picked her purse up from the stoop and breathed deep, hoping it would go away. Her doctor had told her to stop taking the aspirin. He wouldn't prescribe anything, though. He'd suggested yoga and deep breathing and concentration and she just hated all of that stuff. It required stillness, something she abhorred by nature. She held her hand out to Clark. "Keys?"

He dropped them into her palm. "Do you want a lift over the threshold?"

"Do you like unicorns?"

"Huh?"

She inserted the key and turned. "You ask a stupid question, I ask a stupid question."

"Funny."

"That's me. Just a barrel of... Whoa." She looked around. "Is this supposed to be the model unit? Is this seriously supposed to lure people?"

"Well, it's... modern, I guess."

"It looks like The Jetsons threw up in here." She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter that divided it from the dining area and eyed the stools that looked like ice cream scoops and the chairs and couches that were straight out of a B-movie. "This is like that late fifties space age thing."

"See?" Clark eyed a round white leather chair. "Told you we met at a Star Trek convention."

She shuddered. "Whatever happened to classic elegance? Cherry wood, roll-top desks, Persian rugs. Is this what the people want?"

"Apparently, Kent and Lanie loved it so much, they bought it furnished."

She lightly kicked the leg of an asymmetric coffee table. "Stupid Camerons."

"Maybe the rest isn't so bad." He moved from the sunken living room to a set of steps. She followed, opening a door on her left as he moved to one on his right.

"Oh, God." If the living room was bad, the bedroom was worse. The wallpaper was beige with purple flowers. White dressers. A monstrous white sleigh bed had a comforter with pink flowers. She'd just bet the sheets were flannel. "I found out where Laura Ashley threw up," she yelled over her shoulder. "How am I supposed to sleep in here?"

"How am I supposed to sleep in here?" she heard behind her. She turned to see Clark staring into the guest room. She stopped beside him. It was a nursery, complete with crib.

"Guess they want to project a family image," she said, wrinkling her nose at the overdone Noah's Ark theme.

"Perry said this was a two-bedroom."

"Well, it's technically a bedroom." She stepped in. "Oh, cheer up, Kent. There's a couch." She moved down the steps and into the living room. They both eyed the flimsy, half-back with its slanted legs and red leather upholstery.

"Air mattress," Clark said quickly. "I'll take a trip to the store. We need groceries, anyway."

"Why? Don't they have take-out around here?"

"Don't you ever eat anything you've cooked yourself?"

"Not if I want to live." She picked up her purse and stared at him. "And how do you know what I eat?"

He stared back at her, then shrugged. "Wild guess. I mean, you're a city girl."

"And you're a country boy. Don't tell me you expect me to cook."

"No. My mom taught me the basics. I mean, I can cook."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she said, sailing past him to the door.

**************************

"I'm beat," Lois sighed, dropping onto the couch before sitting up again. "Ow! This thing has no give whatsoever." They'd spent all afternoon unpacking. Clark's meatloaf offer had degenerated to pizza delivery. Fine by her, if it would ever get here.

"I won't be sleeping on it," Clark said, plugging in the electric pump and unfolding the air mattress. He stared at the picture on the box. "Maybe I should just go sleep at my place." He glanced up at her. His expression seemed almost hopeful.

"Not on your life." Lois stood, then tried the round chair. Too soft. It was like sinking into a big white catcher's mitt. "These people see you leaving at night, they'll think you're off cheating on me." She stood up. "How will I ever hold my head up in front of Bob and Mitzi?"

He chuckled, probably also remembering the charmingly rotund middle-aged couple they'd met this afternoon. They had slight southern drawls and Mitzi had worn a sweater with a large appliqué kitten in gold. Lois found it hard to forgive her for that until they'd actually helped them load the garage. She'd warmed up then - until Mitzi had the nerve to admire Lanie's taste in furniture. Lois had a hard time forgiving that offense.

"Well, they were friendly," Clark said.

"Too friendly," she snorted, getting up and settling on the white carpet shaped like a kidney bean. Lois had only said she and "Kent" had been high school sweethearts and Mitzi was describing every detail of her courtship with the fabulous Bob. "These places are full of phonies that..."

"Shh!" Clark got up, stared at the door, then suddenly grabbed the air mattress seconds before the doorbell rang.

"It's probably just the pizza guy." Lois stood, watching him grab the pump, pulling the plug from the wall and rushing toward the master bedroom. "What is with you?"

"It's not the pizza guy. It's..."

"Helloooo!" The ringing turned to knocking. "Lanie? Kent? I saw your lights on."

"Um... Coming, Mitzi," Lois called out. She watched Clark toss the bundle in his arms in her room before she opened the front door. "Good evening," she said, pasting on a smile.

"I don't want to interrupt you young lovebirds," she said, giggling. "But I just couldn't rest until I made sure y'all had one of my welcome baskets." She held out a giant basket full of wrapped muffins and tiny jellies. "I'm like the Martha Stewart of the block."

"Oh, I can see that," Lois said, taking the basket and eying the mounds of curled ribbon hanging from every bit of the basket. "So where'd you serve your time?"

"Excuse me?"

Clark stepped behind her and laughed. "That's Lanie. Always joking." He cleared his throat and she tried to smile. "You know, the Martha Stewart prison thing..."

"Oh, of course." Mitzi let out a belated giggle, shaking her white-blond head. "Very cute." She leaned in and pressed a hand to her ample chest. "But you know? I just hate to think of that time. Poor Martha. I mean, it was only a white collar crime. Making her wear an ankle bracelet..."

"It was tough for all of us," Lois said, trying to look sincere. "Us crafty women."

Mitzi winked and stepped forward. "Don't tell me you love crafts, too." Lois stepped aside as Mitzi moved inside. "I'd love to see some of your creations. Do you scrap-book?"

"Oh, Lanie's not into that," Clark cut in, for which Lois gave him a grateful smile as she set the basket down on the kitchen counter. "She's more of a..." He threw Lois a helpless glance as Mitzi nosed around the living room. She made a flurrying motion with her hands. "Uh... Origami enthusiast."

She rolled her eyes, then threw him a glare. "Origami?" she mouthed.

He threw his hands up, then quickly moved ahead of Mitzi to the steps. He closed the bedroom door and Lois breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry, it's just such a mess. We really don't want anyone seeing until we pull it all together."

"Oh, I understand. I'm the same way. Bob and I are all about our privacy." Mitzi turned instead to the other room. The door was open and she reached in. Light glinted off her applique cat. "Oh, my goodness!" She put a hand to her ample bosom again and turned to Lois. "Are you two expecting?"

"No," Lois said quickly. "But we... We want to be." She moved into the room and Clark followed. Lois moved to join them.

"Isn't it all too precious!" She picked up a wooden elephant and sighed. "I'm sure you'll have no problem at all, young as you are." She wiped lightly at her eyes.

Lois stepped toward her. "Mitzi?"

"Oh, it's nothing just... Bob and I have been trying for years. Seen every doctor in the city, but... Well, it's just God's will, I guess." She turned and smiled sadly.

She felt Clark's hand on her shoulder. "We know how you feel," he said, squeezing Lois' shoulder. "We've had trouble, too."

"But you two are so young." Mitzi tilted her head. "I'm sure it'll work out."

"Well, maybe," Lois said, trying not to feel guilty for lying to the poor, yet tacky, woman. "We've seen several specialists and they just can't pinpoint a thing."

Mitzi leaned forward. "For us it was actually Bob, poor love. His little guys just didn't have it in 'em." Her eyes widened. "But I never said that."

"Oh, of course not." As guilty as Lois felt for lying, she had an inkling she'd lied to the right person. Their fertility issues might be all over the neighborhood by tomorrow.

"Well..." Mitzi clapped her hands together and smiled at them. "I'll let you sweet things get back to your unpacking." She moved toward them and Lois moved out of the way. She started to follow her out, but Clark's hand was still on her shoulder. She turned back to him and he hastily took it away. She rolled her eyes and moved ahead of him and down the steps. Mitzi was fussing with the basket on the counter.

"Thank you very much for that, Mitzi. It's just... too sweet. And Kent just loves muffins." She turned to throw him a tight smile, but he wasn't there. Deserter. If Mitzi cooked like she decorated, Lois might force-feed those muffins to him as penance for the origami.

"Well, there is a hidden surprise." She dug under the muffins and pulled out a bottle of champagne. "Now, don't tell Bob. He doesn't want me disturbing his silly wine collection, but wine is for drinking, as I say, not saving. Especially if it's champagne. Am I right?"

Lois took the bottle and found her first real smile of the day. "Too right." She looked behind her. Clark was still nowhere.

"Oh, one more thing." Mitzi dug in her pocket and pulled out a large beaded pin. "It's a cornucopia," she said, looking fondly at it. "I make them every year for Thanksgiving, but this year's batch is just lovely." She held it out to Lois. "Those beads I use for apples? I got a load of them off Ebay and darned if they don't shine like rubies."

"Very pretty," Lois said, taking the garish pin in the hand that wasn't holding the real prize. She almost wanted to shoo Mitzi out so she could have some quality time with the champagne.

"It's not just pretty to look at, though. It's to invite y'all to my pre-Thanksgiving potluck this Wednesday. It's a great way to try out new holiday recipes."

"Oh, I... can't wait." Lois put the wine down and held up the pin. "Thanks so much."

"Oh, no problem, Sweetie."

"And Kent and I will certainly enjoy the wine." She forced a laugh. "As soon as we're alone."

Mitzi giggled. "I get it. You two crack that open and see if you get a visit from the stork soon, huh?"

"Will do."

"Bye, now."

"Bye." She shut the door and stalked toward the steps. "Get out here, you chicken."

Clark poked his head out of the bathroom and pulled a toothbrush from his mouth. "Is she gone?"

"No thanks to you."

He disappeared into the bathroom again and came out wiping his mouth. "Well, she probably wanted girl talk or something." He drew closer, then stopped in front of her, tilting his head. "And you are the woman, here."

She narrowed her eyes. She could just swear he was staring at her boobs. For his sake, she'd ignore it. She crossed her arms and stalked away toward the kitchen, clutching the ugly pin. She glared at it and she could almost swar one of the "apples" glinted at her mockingly. She'd probably have to wear the awful thing to the potluck. "Origami," she muttered. "Now I'll have to learn to fold paper into stupid ducks or something."

"Well, what were you saying?" he asked from behind her.

She whirled on him. "Bird-watching, Clark. It would help explain things in case anyone saw me using binoculars. I mean, use your head."

He moved closer. "How was I supposed to know this..." He fluttered his hands in front of his face. "Meant bird-watching?"

She huffed out a breath and turned away. "This sucks."

"Hey..." She felt his hands on her shoulders. She was about to move away, but then he dug in with his thumbs, moving them in a circular motion. "It's not so bad. I mean, she knows we're trying to conceive. Right?"

"I guess." She felt her shoulders relaxing and she uncrossed her arms, letting her hands fall to her sides.

"We'll be fine. You just had a tough day. You need to unwind."

His hands moved to her shoulder blades and she felt soft tingles race down her back. "It has been tough."

"Mm-hmm."

She closed her eyes and her head rolled forward. She felt a warmth at her back.

"Maybe I should open that wine for you."

She felt his breath on her neck and it raised gooseflesh and the kind of tingles that raced too far south to be innocent or relaxing. She felt her hands clench. "Ow!"

"What?"

She let him turn her around and she opened her palm. "Stupid pin." She picked it up in her left hand and glared at it again. It seemed to glow with satisfaction.

Clark took her right hand and raised it up, staring at her index finger. "Just a little pin prick." Then he did something she couldn't have predicted in a million years. If she could have predicted it, she might have thought to slap him, but that was all conjecture. What she did do was stare slack-jawed as he brought her index finger to his lips and, God help her, sucked at it. The tingles settled south and intensified. He removed it from his mouth and smiled. "There. It's not so bad."

"You have toothpaste on your lip," she said dumbly. It was really all that came to mind.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Where?"

She pointed with her trapped finger to the white smear on his bottom lip. "There." His tongue darted out and her gaze followed it. He had the nicest, fullest lips.

"Did I get it?" His voice was husky and her stomach clenched.

She stared at a small line that was left. "No." She pulled her right hand from his moved it to his face. She smeared her thumb over his bottom lip. The toothpaste stayed. "It's stubborn."

"Maybe I should go wash it off." His voice had lowered to a whisper and she felt like it was hypnotizing her.

"No," she breathed. She wanted to get that smear herself. And she truly must have been hypnotized. Why else would she be pulling his head down?

Chapter Two