Bedroom Secrets. Michelle Celmer

is it, Tina thought, her heart sinking so low she could feel the persistent throb of her pulse all the way down to her toes. Mae was going to call the police. Oh well, a jail cell was better than sleeping on the street. And if Ray reported what had happened last week, there was no doubt she would be arrested—for assault.

      Tina stood on wobbly legs and grabbed her backpack from the bench seat. Holding her head high despite the look of pure disdain from the women in the next booth, she followed Mae to the front of the restaurant. She tried to see herself through their eyes. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty from several days without seeing the inside of a washing machine. She probably looked like one of the homeless people she’d seen sleeping at the bus station. She was homeless.

      Mae led her through the busy kitchen, and Tina’s stomach rumbled from all of the magnificent smells lingering there. It had been days since she’d had a real meal. To stretch her limited funds she’d existed on a meager diet, one that consisted primarily of soup and crackers.

      Mae led her into a tiny office near the back and gestured to one of the metal chairs opposite a small cluttered desk. “What’s your name, hon?”

      “Tina,” she said, lowering herself into the chair closest to her and resting her bag against her legs. “Tina DeLuca.”

      “Well, Tina DeLuca, you wait here.” Mae left, closing the door behind her and Tina steeled herself for what was to come. She looked up at several decades’ worth of Chamber of Commerce awards and a poster boasting Mae’s pastries to be the best in Michigan. Dozens of framed photos of what must have been Mae’s children and grandchildren lined the wall. Everyone looked so happy.

      A big, happy family. Tina was a stranger to the concept. After she’d lost her mother, it had been only her, Aunt Louise and cousin Ray.

      Some day I’ll have a real family, she thought. She would find the right man, settle down and have lots of babies. If she was patient, it would happen.

      After she got out of prison.

      She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Lord, she was exhausted. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since she’d left Philadelphia. She wondered if the beds in jail were more comfortable than a bus seat.

      The door opened and a ripple of fear turned her limbs to jelly. She waited for the inevitable. For Mae to tell her the police were on the way.

      Instead the woman set a plate down on the desk in front of Tina. A plate piled high with French fries and an enormous cheeseburger. Next to it she set a large glass of soda.

      Mouth gaping, all Tina could do was stare. Why was Mae bringing her more food when she couldn’t even pay for her soup?

      Mae circled the desk and took a seat, sliding the top drawer open. She rifled through it for a moment, then looked up at Tina, her brow raised. “Are you just going to stare at it?”

      “But…”

      “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

      Mae wasn’t calling the police. She was going to help her. Tina’s fear melted away and tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t known such kindness existed anymore.

      “Is there someone I can call for you, hon?”

      Tina shook her head. “There’s no one.”

      “I didn’t think so. Go ahead and eat it while it’s hot.” She returned her attention to the open drawer. “Now, I know that card is in here somewhere.”

      Tina picked up a French fry and bit off a piece. It was greasy and salty and the most heavenly thing she’d ever tasted, and she could hardly swallow past the lump of emotion in her throat.

      “Ah, here it is.” Mae pulled a slightly worn business card from the drawer and slid it across the desk.

      Tina picked it up and read the name—Tyler Douglas. There was no title. Just an address and phone number.

      “My sister, bless her decrepit soul, has worked for Tyler for years cleaning his rental properties. Well, her sciatica has gotten pretty bad this past year, and she can’t manage all the bending and stretching anymore. Especially in the cold weather. Just yesterday she told Tyler she had to quit, so I know for a fact he’s looking for someone to fill the position.”

      When God closes a door he opens a window.

      “A job?” Tina asked.

      “You tell him Mae sent you over and he’ll set you up.” Mae stood, smoothing the front of her uniform. “You go ahead and finish your lunch, then you can let yourself out the back door.”

      “Thank you. I’ll pay you for the food as soon as I can,” Tina assured her.

      Mae just smiled. “I know you will.”

      As Mae disappeared through the door, Tina could swear she saw the hint of a halo just above the woman’s silvery hair. And somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear the faintest sound of a window sliding open.

      Tyler Douglas was putting his foot down.

      Emily was his sister, and he loved her, but he had to draw the line at this. “There is no way in hell I’m standing up in your wedding with a guy.”

      “But you’re the best man and Alex is my best friend,” Emily said, as if it was a completely logical deduction. “You have to stand up together.”

      “Alex is gay.”

      There was a pause then, “So?”

      “What do you mean, so? What if people think we’re…together?”

      “Alex was right—you are homophobic.”

      “I wouldn’t walk down the aisle with any guy: gay, straight or undecided. And what does Mom think about you having a man for a maid of honor?” When she didn’t answer, he laughed. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

      “It doesn’t matter what Mom thinks. It’s my wedding.”

      “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

      “Just think about it, okay? Hey, and while I’ve got you on the phone, Matt said there’s a new secretary at the high school. Blond, big breasts, shallow—just the way you like ’em.”

      “You’re not winning any points here.”

      “I’m just kidding. Matt said she’s very nice. And single. We could double.”

      “No, thanks.”

      “Are you going through some kind of romantic dry spell or something?”

      Her question hit home like a dynamite blast, making him wince. Dry spell didn’t begin to describe it. But things would get better. In time, he would be back to his old virile self.

      He hoped.

      “You know,” Emily said, “if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me about it.”

      “There’s nothing wrong.” Nothing a few years of intense psychotherapy wouldn’t cure. No way in hell he could talk to his sister about that.

      “Ty, since middle school you’ve always had a girlfriend. Sometimes two or three at a time.”

      The outer office door jingled and he silently thanked whoever it was for the interruption. “Hey, someone’s here. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”

      “Ty—”

      “Say hi to Matt for me. Love you.” He hit the disconnect button and set the phone down. That was a close call, and knowing Emily, he hadn’t heard the last of this. Though they weren’t identical, they were still bound by that cosmic connection twins often have. Depending on the circumstances, that could be a good or a bad thing.

      “Hello?” a voice called from the lobby.

      A female voice. Damn.

      “In