"Elizabeth? Darling are you home?" Audrey called up the darkened stairs to her granddaughter's bedroom, hoping for an answer but not expecting one. The young woman had made herself scarce in the past week. She had worked double shifts, seen Robin a few times, and returned home only to take Audrey to her doctor's appointments and to sleep.
The ensuing silence confirmed what Audrey had guessed. Elizabeth was not home. A part of her was happy Elizabeth was finally out there meeting people and not staying home every night; she had a suspicion that this was more about Elizabeth avoiding meeting people. Well avoiding one person, Audrey amended.
Lucky Spencer. Elizabeth hadn't mentioned a word about Lucky to her, but Audrey had seen the two the previous week. In her rush to get to Mrs. Scantoni's before the other woman left, she had forgotten to bring the recipe for mint brownies she had promised. It had just meant to be a simple stop back home, rummage through the recipe box in the kitchen, and return to Mrs. Scantoni's. Elizabeth probably wouldn't have even noticed Audrey had returned and left again with her music playing.
It had been the low murmurings of voices that had drawn her attention at first. While she couldn't make out the words, the tone spoke of attraction unrealized, burning curiosity, and nerves. After raising two sons, Audrey remembered those tones well. She had ventured towards the kitchen door and spotted Elizabeth standing not even a breath away from Lucky Spencer in the den.
She had realized months ago that Elizabeth was teaching Lucky's son. It stood to reason they had met at some point during the school year at one function or another. But quite plainly there was something else brewing there. She had attended many parent-teacher conferences in her day and she never stood that close to a teacher before. Not even the one she had to give the Heimlich maneuver to.
When the kiss happened, she has tried to turn away. It was a private moment and her granddaughter was a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions on who to date. Certainly Lucky was a better caliber of man than that awful Max Giambetti back in Boulder. She could still feel the rage well up inside of her when she paused to think what that worm had done to Elizabeth. She had tried to turn away, but the moment was over quickly and Lucky had left. Before she could alert Elizabeth to her presence, the young woman had run upstairs, racing to get ready to meet Robin. And she hadn't stopped racing since.
Audrey wanted Elizabeth to be happy. She wanted her to stop hiding in the shell Max had left her in. As a girl Elizabeth had been a happy, vibrant, outgoing, funny child. The vibrancy had faded in the recent months, but since that pool party Robin and Courtney dragged Elizabeth to, Audrey had seen the vibrancy return. And she was willing to bet Lucky Spencer had something to do with that. That kiss was not something that occurred on a whim. Audrey recognized a built-up kiss when she saw one.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures." She announced to the stillness. If she was right, and she knew she was, then Lucky Spencer very well could be the key to her granddaughter's happiness. At the very least he was a step in the right direction to get her to trust other men again. She had known Lucky since he was a child. He had grown into a fine man that would do any mother proud.
Smiling she flipped through the numbers in her address book, pausing to press the correct numbers. She hoped she could get the person she was sure would help her right away. Somehow Audrey doubted Lucky would like this plan and she was certain telling Lulu would lead to Lucky finding out "accidentally."
"Hello Spencer residence." The voice on the other end was melodic, just as it always had been.
"Hello Laura. This is Audrey Hardy. I was wondering if I could discuss something with you."
Her back was to the door, a fact that Cruz was forever grateful for. Not even her signature red hair was visible thanks to the overgrown palm tree that had decided to rest its branches directly over their table. Whatever he had done in life to get a table behind the overgrown plant wall at La Scalla, Cruz was entirely grateful for.
He paused to bite back the grin as she attempted to swat a rather large leaf off of her head. He'd never tell her to her face, but Bobbie was adorable sometimes. Walking to their table, he ducked under to kiss her cheek hello.
"You're late." She pointed one finger at him, but smiled and kissed him anyways.
"I know. I'm sorry. But I swear I thought someone was following me."
She tried to keep the laugh back. "Someone was following you? Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but why would someone follow you?"
He knew it sounded ridiculous. "I don't know. But I swear the entire drive here I saw this black Honda behind me. It creeped me out so I took the long way."
Bobbie was trying her best not to laugh, but he looked so serious about something that was just so silly. No one knew they were dating. She wasn't involved in any illegal activity and Cruz was not that well-known of a writer to merit photographers' interest. "Sweetheart, it was probably a coincidence. There are a lot of black Hondas and this is not an unpopular spot to come." She gestured with her hands at the crowd that filled the dimly lit restaurant. La Scalla was new, but it had attracted a following with its secluded romantic atmosphere and the illusion of privacy it offered its clients.
Cruz took her hand and kissed it. "I know. I'm just being ridiculous." Mentally he made a note to never watch the X-Files movie with Lucky and Patrick again. It made him far too paranoid for days after it.
"Explain to me again how this constitutes as a date." Robin rolled her eyes as Patrick circled the parking lot. At this rate, they were never going to leave the car.
"It doesn't. We aren't dating." Patrick reminded her, sending her a wicked glance.
"How could I forget? Why are we following Cruz? I thought you said you'd forgiven him." Robin pointed out.
"I have forgiven him, but I know he's seeing someone and I don't appreciate being left out of the loop." Patrick explained, finding a spot furthest from the restaurant.
"You poor thing." Robin mocked, folding her arms across the hem of her white camisole. "How dare Cruz have a life without consulting you first?"
"No one forced you to come along Robin." Patrick took the keys from the ignition and slipped them into the pocket of his black slacks.
"You were the one who stopped by the bakery and said you had something fun planned. Trailing Cruz's POS car for forty-five minutes is not what I consider fun." Robin complained.
"At least he didn't spot us."
"What makes you think that?" Robin challenged. "I mean, this is a pretty small town and it took us all that time to get to a restaurant that couldn't be more than ten minutes from my loft."
"The question is how are we going to get in there without being noticed?" Patrick prattled on, his mind ticking away.
"We? Oh, no, you must have me confused with a stupid person."
Patrick thought it best not to comment, but he had to bite back a grin. "Come on, Scorpio. I promise I'll let you have your way with me once this is all over."
"Now there's incentive." Robin responded dryly.
"I know the sexual tension must be eating away at you. Tell you what. You can kiss me right now and then we'll go spy on Cruz." Patrick offered, tucking a wayward curl behind Robin's right ear.
"I'm not in the right shoes." Robin argued, nodding to her choice in footwear.
"You mean there's actually a shoe out there made for screwing around?" Patrick sounded mesmerized at the thought.
"You have so much to learn." Robin patted his cheeks and turned to exit the car.
Patrick followed, keeping his head ducked in case Cruz and his new play thing happened to catch them in the parking lot. Robin let him tug her hand and lead her into the restaurant, from the back entrance no less.
It wasn't often that Cruz found a new restaurant to match the hype it was currently getting. More times than not, he had visited some hot new restaurant whoever his current food critic was at the time recommended and found it lacking. But this place, he had to admit, was perfect. The service had been helpful but they knew how to stay in the background and not interrupt. Always a plus. The plants and the music gave the room a deserted tropical islands feel, even though the fare was standard French food. The candles gave him the impression he and Bobbie were the only two people in the room, even though he could vaguely hear other couples whispering to each other. In addition to ambiance, the plants apparently blocked out the din of conversation as well.
He could well understand why reservations were hard to come by and why he had to name drop his food critic to get one tonight. "Did I tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?" He was pretty sure in his paranoia he had forgotten. Another thing to add to the list to blame Lucky and Patrick for. It would rank right up there with dying his entire wardrobe pink freshman year in college by leaving one red sock in his laundry pile.
She blushed. It was amazing to her that he could make her blush with just the smallest of words. And the lightest of touches, she thought wickedly. Bobbie lifted her foot and traced it up his left calf, rubbing it slowly. "Thank you. You aren't so bad looking yourself there Scoop."
Cruz was trying not to be a horn dog around her. He really as. Truly he was interested in her mind and found her fascinating. Her wit, her dead-on suggestions, her no nonsense approach she took towards her family, everything that made her Bobbie Spencer he found incredible. But the second she touched him, he was magically transformed into a horny eighteen-year-old constantly looking to get laid.
"If you keep that up, we will not complete this date." He growled at her, shaking a finger in her direction. "I thought you wanted a real date."
She had requested that, Bobbie remembered belatedly. It was born over a momentary fit of boredom over the same routine of always eating at his townhouse or her brownstone. As quickly as the moment came it had went. She loved their routine and understood why they stuck to it. Hell she understood it all too well.
The waiters had been exceedingly polite, but she hadn't missed the looks they kept giving her and Cruz. While she looked damn good for her age, Bobbie was under no illusions that she could pass for twenty anymore. Thirty-five was probably out of the question as well. And while she didn't mind her age, and in fact embraced it, the looks were uncomfortable reminders of one of the reasons why they had kept their relationship quiet in the first place. The other of course being his being best friends with both of her nephews.
Smiling she withdrew her foot. "Fine. Have it your way. See if I save you any fun for later."
"Baby, we always have fun, no matter what we are doing."
Robin tapped the shoulder of the man she assumed was the head chef. He wore a long black mustache and a white button-down outfit. He was about a half a foot taller than she was with a wide, bulging gut. He turned to face her, giving Patrick a disgusted "You must be an American" look. Robin smiled and regarded him with half closed eyelids. "M'excuser Monsieur mais mon nom sont les Scorpions de Robins. Je me demandais si nous pourrions prendre un regard dans votre cuisine."
His temper showed in his face, his plain features perking up at her question. He began waving his hands absurdly in the air. "Absurde! Je n'ai jamais été s'insulté dans ma vie entière!"
"Nice going. Real smooth." Patrick grumbled behind her.
Robin took a moment to collect herself, smacked Patrick in the back of the head, and then said, "Vous comprenez mal, Monsieur. Nous avons souhaité seulement féliciter le cuisinier sur un travail bien fait."
His face relaxed and he let out a relieved sigh. "Pourquoi vous n'avez pas dit juste cela de commencer avec? Je toujours accueille des compliments sur ma cuisine!" I bet you do, Robin thought to herself. Leave it to her to find the French version of Patrick Drake. "Si vous avez signifié seulement pour me rencontrer, pourquoi avez-vous voulu voir la cuisine?" He wondered, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Nous avons voulu voir où la magie est arrivée. Je, me, suis un cuisinier qui s'efforce, et je long pour apprendre d'un vrai maître." Robin almost choked on the lie.
"So, what do you say Monsieur?" Patrick asked in an impatient voice.
"Excuser mon ami. Il n'est pas bien. Les médecins disent ce peuvent être un désordre de personnalité."They both shared a private chuckle and then he led them into the kitchen. "Je j'ai peur n'a pas attrapé votre nom, monsieur." Robin realized.
"Le Coup manqué de Leonide de M. Mathieu. C'était un plaisir pour vous rencontrer, le Scorpion de Coup manqué. Me permettre de savoir si je peux vous aider de quelque façon."
"Impressive." Patrick congratulated, clapping his hands together.
"Shut up. I got us in here, didn't I?" Robin shot back, reaching for a white chef hat and fanning herself with it.
"Axe did not spend the whole day humming 'Walking on Sunshine'" Bobbie laughed.
"I swear to God the man did." Cruz laughed along with her. It had been a hilarious sight to say the least. "I found out later from Laura that Becca finally agreed to go out with him."
"Well that's great. Those two would be great together."
He cocked his eyebrow. "How would you know? You've never met them."
"Do you disagree?"
"No. I'm just curious how you know this about two people you've only heard me talk about is all."
"Well I have talked to both frequently on the phone for one reason or another. Becca is a perfectly sweet girl. And you yourself told me Axe was a teddy bear. Wasn't Monster Spray his idea?"
"True." She had a point. And this conversation was turning too close to discussing Lucky to be comfortable.
"But still it wasn't as funny as the day he hummed 'I Feel Pretty' all day."
Bobbie nodded sagely. "I doubt anything could top that memory. What caused that one?"
"I think it was finding out one of the new artists at L&B really was single. But enough about me. How's the planning going for the wedding of the century?"
Rolling her eyes, Bobbie groaned. "I can't get her to commit to a season much less a date. She changed her mind at least seventeen times today. I'm half tempted to tell her to chuck it all and elope."
"It can't be that bad."
"Her fiancé called today to ask if I knew where to get elephants for the ceremony." She paused and looked Cruz dead in the eyes. "Elephants! And that wasn't the craziest suggestion from the both of them!"
"Her fiancé is in on this too?"
"In on it? He's worse than she is! Partially I think because he's still stunned she said yes."
"I still don't know why you won't tell me who it is that is driving you nuts."
"You will know when the time is right. Trust me, no one in Port Charles will miss this event. If they ever decide when it will be that is."
"Well who's to say it has to be in Port Charles? They could do a location wedding."
"Do not give them any ideas."
"How can I if I don't know who it is getting married?" he countered smiling.
"From this point on, you hear anyone and I mean anyone discussing wedding plans and they ask you for your opinion, you are to act like a commitment phobe and run screaming into the night."
"Act like Patrick when hearing the words 'wedding.' Got it."
"About the only thing they do agree on is it will be in Port Charles. I do not need to the one decision they actually have made to magically become undone because of some comment from some person on the street."
"Relax. I get asked anything about wedding planning I will refer them to you."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Cruz felt the hair on the back of his neck raise slightly. He turned his head quickly.
"What's wrong?" Bobbie wondered.
Shaking his head, he returned his eyes to hers. "Paranoia. I just had the strangest sensation we were being watched."
"You really need to stop reading Stephen King in bed honey. He's screwing with your mind."
"You're right. I know you're right." He shook off the momentary panic attack. "So what else did you do today?"
"You want me to do what?" Patrick couldn't help but balk at Robin's suggestion.
"I want you to put on this suit and chef's hat and follow me." Robin repeated, massaging her temple as she felt a headache coming on.
"There's no way they'll buy either of us as chefs." Patrick argued.
"We aren't going to go to their table, idiot." Robin resisted the urge to smack him again.
"What's with the name-calling?" Patrick pouted.
"I swear to God sometimes..."
"It's part of my appeal." Patrick assured her.
"The part I try to block out." Robin replied.
"What's the plan, mademoiselle?"
"Enough French. My head hurts." Robin begged.
"All I want to do is see who he's with and then we can leave." Patrick promised, patting her head.
"You so owe me." Robin poked him in the chest.
"I look forward to paying you back. Do you need help getting into your uniform?"
"Patrick, I don't want to slap you, but I fucking will if you don't cut it out!"
"Killjoy!"
Two minutes later, they exited the kitchen, each of them holding a tray of food. Robin had been the one to suggest they actually look like they were working instead of skulking. They had their hats pulled down so that their eyes were covered. "Let's split up." Patrick suggested.
Robin was about to agree when she spotted Cruz a few feet away. "No." She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him behind the absurdly large piece of foliage.
"So when you told them about the nomination what did they say?"
Cruz shrugged his shoulders, trying to downplay his own excitement. "I don't think they really know what it means." His little magazine had secured several nominations for the New York Association of Journalism Awards. Local magazines rarely were given mention by the group, preferring to focus on newspapers. But the five nominations Cruz found out they had earned this morning was sweet vindication for the last year of headaches. The dinner was in part a celebration for him.
"Well you tell them over and over again. This is huge." She leaned across the table and squeezed his hand. "I am so happy for you sweetie."
He squeezed back. "Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me. You were the first one I wanted to tell." It was the pure truth. He hadn't called his own mother yet. Or Patrick. Or Lucky. Right now the only ones who knew about his triumph were him, his staff, and her.
Bobbie smiled, feeling herself melt a little with his sweet words. She eased her foot out of her Manolo Blanik and worked it inside the leg of his black trousers, rubbing his skin. "So how exactly should we celebrate tonight then?" She grinned wickedly continuing to massage his leg with her foot. "Ice cream? Champagne? Chocolate?" The words seemed innocent, but her tone was anything but.
Cruz shivered a little at the memories each word brought up. Two can play at this game he thought. He leaned forward, capturing her hand in his and tracing his finger along her palm. "What about just watching some movies?" He bit back the smirk that threatened to unleash itself when she caught his meaning.
Bobbie leaned forward, about to respond to his challenge when a booming voice from the doorway stopped her in her tracks.
"Since when does taking pictures of assholes all day mean that my nephew has to wait tables at night?"
Patrick's face turned beet-red as he lifted the hat off of his tousled brown hair. "Luke." He sighed, knowing he was caught. There was no way Cruz and his bed bunny hadn't heard his uncle's unmistakable declaration.
"Hi Luke." Robin welcomed him, stepping into his waiting arms, setting down her tray and watching Patrick do the same out of the corner of her eyes.
"Little Scorpio! I thought that bakery of yours was doing well!" Luke squeezed her into a bear hug.
"I can't complain." Robin mumbled into his shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" Patrick wondered.
"What he means is, when did you get back to town?" Robin corrected.
Luke shrugged. "I got to Port Chuckles today and had one last meeting to get done before I saw my Angel tonight. What are the two of you doing here?"
"We were trying to figure out who Cruz is banging, but you messed that all up." Patrick snapped sourly.
"He's just mad because Cruz is growing up and he's stuck at the maturity level of a fifteen-year-old." Robin explained.
Clapping Patrick on the back, Luke smiled. "Son, you won't find out any information looking like a Chef Boyardee reject. And didn't I teach you better about spying?"
"Tell this one here." Patrick pointed his thumb in Robin's direction.
"Boy you never bring a distraction like a beautiful woman to the party. You'll be far too tempted to look at her all night."
"I can't argue that." Patrick admitted, causing Robin to blush.
Luke put his hands on both of their shoulders and steered them toward a table. "Now just sit down and I will give you both a refresher course on how to get information no one wants you to have." A quick glance to Patrick right proved that Cruz and his girl had fled.