Free Worth the Weight by Mara Jacobs Page B

strawberries hanging on the doorknob, don’t come in?
    She smiled to herself as she imagined an overflowing quart of berries with a piece of old yellow yarn tied to two sides, hanging like a pendulum from a rust-tinged doorknob.
    She reached inside her SUV to the passenger seat and grabbed her purse, a bottle of wine and a container full of her world-famous chocolate chip cookies. She didn’t make them much anymore, she wouldn’t allow it, but she’d wanted to bring something for her dinner contribution besides the wine.
    When she’d measured her tummy this morning she’d been pleased, so she figured, what the hell, and went to the kitchen with zeal. Of course, after eating the equivalent of a dozen cookies in dough, her good feelings about her body drained out as quickly as she drained the huge glass of milk that accompanied her indulgence.
    After that, the skin tight knit top and short shorts she’d planned to wear were sent skulking to the back of the closet, as if it were their fault Lizzie couldn’t control herself around chocolate chip cookie dough. Instead, she chose a loose, French blue three-quarter sleeve, buttoned blouse and a khaki skirt that fell to her knees and had buttons its entire length.
    Having gotten some good sun these past few days, she’d been excited about the shorts and ready to show off some thigh, but she couldn’t help envisioning the dough passing through her system in record time to adhere itself directly to her inner thighs and saddlebag area. The shorts were history.
    She still looked okay, she surmised, if not a little more conservative than she had planned.
    Balancing her offering, she shut the door to the Navigator and headed to the house, her flat sandals choosing the grass rather than the dusty walkway. The noise made Finn ’s son turn. Though they were over fifty yards away from each other, Lizzie saw the boy’s eyes slowly trail up her body in much the same way his father had done the first night she’d seen him at the Mine Shaft .
    The boy was lanky, with none of Finn ’s power in his physique. Knowing zilch about the growth development of boys, she wondered if he’d fill out later, or if this was to be his basic build. His hair was lighter than Finn ’s, almost a towhead blond, so abundant in the Finnish-laced Copper Country. Finn ’s mother was Finnish, Lizzie remembered . S he wondered if his ex-wife was, too. She couldn’t tell the boy’s eye color from here, but his face was all Finn . Angles, cheekbones, what seemed hard and masculine in Finn seemed almost fragile in the boy.
    She wondered for a moment if she could just pretend she hadn’t seen the boy, but decided to get the inevitable over with. For Pete’s sake, she was acting like an idiot. She could walk into a boardroom full of strangers and have them all l iking her in minutes, she could certainly handle a teenage boy.
    The boy’s eyes, still roaming her body, came to rest. She wasn’t sure if it was on the items she clutched, or on her breasts. She lowered her arms holding the wine bottle and the package of cookies to her sides and the kid’s eyes stayed locked where they were. Definitely not on the items she’d brought. Cheeky little thing . The idea that Finn had probably been exactly the same way at that age made her smile.
    She walked toward the field and the kid, setting the wine, cookies and her purse on the veranda as she passed the house. The smile was still on her face as she got to the boy. Oh yeah, she thought, as she noticed his startling blue eyes still staring at her breasts as she neared, he’s gonna be just like his dad.
    Knowing this, and knowing nothing about kids, she handled him as she would his father. “Hey. I’m Lizzie,” she said for greeting, raising her chin in salutation.
    He raised his chin to her for response. “Stevie.”
    The boy’s glance returned to her Navigator then back to Lizzie. She could see the pieces falling into place for him that she was the one his