“I did? I don’t remember that.”
“Do you remember kissing Ben Cooper?”
Cat’s face flooded with heat. She glanced around.
“He’s not here,” Eliza said. “I already checked.”
Cat groaned. “What am I going to do, Eliza?” She took another careful sip of coffee, willing her stomach to settle.
“You’re asking me for relationship advice? The woman who can’t find lasting love to save her life?”
Cat gave a slight chuckle at that. “But we’re fixing that, remember? Or rather, I’m fixing that. You reminded me this morning and showed me my notes. Most of which I can read.” She ran her finger over the rim of her coffee mug and sighed. “I just don’t know what to do about my own mess. I shouldn’t have kissed Ben. He shouldn’t have kissed me. He’s dating Mei.”
“Maybe not. She wasn’t there last night.”
Cat brightened at that thought. It’s true, Mei hadn’t been there. Nor had she been at the coffee shop the last time she’d run into Ben. Of course, that didn’t mean they weren’t still dating. She’d like to think he wouldn’t have kissed her were he still involved; he didn’t seem the type. Plus, there was her own mess with William.
But Cat wouldn’t know Ben’s relationship status unless she asked, and she wouldn’t be able to ask until she saw him again. The idea made her stomach leap in a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “Should I call him?”
Eliza’s jaw dropped. “Wait a minute. You’re talking about pursuing a man? You, Catherine Schreiber?”
Cat reached over to smack her, then groaned when the movement intensified the throbbing in her head.
“I told you from day one he was interested in you,” Eliza said. “You’ve just never been interested in him. And now you are, because of one kiss? That must have been one hell of a smooch.”
Cat sat, silent for a minute. “I wouldn’t say I haven’t been interested,” she admitted. “And it was.”
She’d relived that kiss a thousand times in her head since she’d woken up. She may not remember all the events from the evening before, but there’s no way she’d forget that. It had shocked her, the intensity of the connection, the way her toes had curled and her whole body had reacted from a mere kiss. It shocked her still, how much she wanted to kiss Ben again.
“What about William?” Eliza said, breaking into Cat’s thoughts. “I know Derrick is history, and you’re not interested in Grayson anymore, right? But I thought you liked William.”
Cat sighed again. “Ugh. I don’t know. Yeah, Derrick wasn’t for me. I don’t need to relive high school again, thanks. And I can’t deny that the physical attraction with Grayson was anything less than, well, hot. But pretty words and sex are not enough for me and never have been.”
Eliza dipped her head in agreement.
“William? You’re right. He seems perfect. Too perfect.” Cat clasped her head with her hands. “Isn’t that pathetic? I somehow miraculously find—miraculously create—the Perfect Man, and he feels out of my league. He’s too good-looking, too rich, too smooth, too everything. It’s all coming too easily. Even Cinderella had to lose her shoe and turn back into a pumpkin.”
“Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin. Her coach did.”
“You know what I mean. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and yet I don’t know. I like him. I find him attractive. I think he would make life wonderful. We’d be living on Easy Street, Mr. Warbucks and I. But it feels ... forced, not natural. I can’t trust it. Knowing I created it means it doesn’t feel genuine. It doesn’t feel magical, Eliza. Not in the way I want it to, I guess. But that kiss with Ben—that was magical.”
Eliza made a show of looking around. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
Cat swatted at her, instantly regretting the sudden movement.
“I thought what you wanted above all, if you admitted to wanting anything, was safety and security,” Eliza said. “What could be more safe and secure than a man you created to be exactly what you wanted him to be?”
“I know!” Cat exclaimed. “I’m so confused.”
“Actually, I don’t think you are. I think you’re finally figuring it out.”
They sat quietly, nursing their drinks, watching people come and go.
“Can we plan the ball now?” Eliza asked after a while. “I’m so excited! And if my duke never shows, well, I’ve always wanted to go to a ball.”
Cat sat up straight, giving her friend a weak smile. Her head was killing her. “Sure thing. But you’ve got to help. I have no clue what a ball should be like. Is the bookstore big enough to host dancing?”
“Of course,” said Eliza. “We’ll move some of the book racks against the walls.”
“I guess we can make the space work, but how are we going to find Regency-style clothing? I don’t know what it would look like.”
Eliza twirled her hair with her finger. “You watched Pride and Prejudice with me this past summer. Surely you remember the bonnets and Empire-waist dresses?”
“I guess,” Cat conceded. Her eyes sparkled with glee. “I was more focused on Colin Firth.”
“Who wouldn’t be? But anyway, the drama department put on a stage production of Emma last spring. I bet they have some things we could borrow. I’ll ask Galen.” Eliza gazed dreamily out the window. “Ah, men in breeches and cravats.”
“If we can get them to wear them,” Cat reminded her.
“True. We can fudge some things; I don’t care.”
“Tell you what—you invite people today, and I’ll work on sketching out your story in between customers. Hopefully, I’ll have an outline at least by tonight.” She stood up and grimaced at the pounding in her head. “It’s going to be a long day.”
“It’s going to be a great day,” Eliza stated firmly. As the two friends walked back across the street to the Treasure Trove, Eliza said, “Cat? Can I ask one favor?”
“Sure, Eliza, anything.”
“In my story, don’t guarantee the outcome. Make it likely, but not destiny. I want to feel like it’s real. Like you and Ben.”
“There is no me and Ben,” Cat protested. “But I get what you mean. I’ll create the character, I’ll create the opportunity, but I won’t tell you too much, okay? You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”
Impulsively, Eliza hugged her as Cat struggled to unlock the bookstore door. “You’re the best, Cat. The best. I’ll never forget you.”
Cat returned the hug, tears filling her eyes. “Back at you, friend.”
“Catherine?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s William. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
Cat rolled over and sat up, her eyes bleary. “Merry Christmas to you, too. The line sounds a bit crackly. Where are you?”
“Shanghai. My reception is so-so. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk with you; we had something come up and had to fly out late last week. But I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I haven’t heard from you—is everything all right?”
Cat yawned. “Yeah. Sorry. We’ve been so busy in the store. What time is it there?” she asked, her voice groggy.
“Did I wake you? It’s a little after ten p.m. here. I thought you’d be up.”
She peered at her clock: 9:17 a.m. “Yeah,” she muttered, scootching up onto her elbow and pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Eliza and I were up late last night planning our Regency ball.”
“Your what?”
“We’re, um, hosting a Regency-themed ball for New Year’s.”
“You’re serious? A ball? As in waltzing? And deucedly uncomfortable formal wear?”
She could hear the amusement in his voice. “First of all, kudos to you for using the word ‘deucedly’ in a sentence,” she said. “Second of all, yup.”
“May I ask why?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s just say it’s something Eliza has always wanted to do.”
“If I’m back on the Ea
st Coast, I’d love to come. I can’t imagine a better New Year’s date than being with you, even if it means I have to don a waistcoat and breeches.”
“Wow, Mr. Dawes. Kudos to you again for knowing Regency men’s wear. And for the flattering statement.”
“It’s true, Ms. Schreiber. I can’t stop thinking about you. I feel so drawn to you. I can’t explain it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”
Cat paused for a moment. I get it. More than you know. You’re drawn to me because you’re made to be. “Thank you, I’m flattered.”
“Thank you, Catherine. You bring more pleasure into my life than I’ve had in a long time.”
She shifted in her bed, seeking a more comfortable position. She sat up and self-consciously tucked her nightgown in between her legs. She could see snow outside the window falling in great clumps, and could hear Eliza banging around in the kitchen.
“You’ve been ... great for me too, William.” She hoped he hadn’t picked up on her hesitation. She still wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t seen Ben since the Mistletoe Incident, and she was starting to wonder if she’d ever see him again. She’d called and emailed, but had gotten no response. Eliza had invited him to the Regency ball but hadn’t heard anything from him, either, as far as Cat knew.
“Have a Merry Christmas. I look forward to seeing you again when I come home—hopefully by New Year’s.”
“Thank you, William. You have a Merry Christmas, too. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Catherine. Take care.”
Cat sat in her bed, holding the phone, staring at the sheets. It was time to admit it. She’d created Mr. Perfect. He was all she’d ever wanted. At least ten years ago. Just as Grayson was what she wanted in college, and Derrick all she’d fantasized about in high school. But William wasn’t whom she kept dreaming about, not whom she wanted to see walk into the coffee shop, not with whom she wondered if there were a real future.
She wanted more; she wanted someone real, who liked her because he chose to, not because he was written to. Someone with unexpected faults and unknown strengths. Someone who would challenge her and not give her everything she wanted, but with whom she could work for a future, together.
Who knew at some point the ability to create the Perfect Man would feel like a burden rather than a blessing?
Why did I invite him to the ball? Wait. She hadn’t. He’d invited himself. But she hadn’t exactly told him no. If I don’t want him, I shouldn’t keep acting as if I do. She put the phone back on the side table and groaned.
She wanted to keep him as an option, she admitted to herself. If Ben didn’t work out, William was still the answer to all her prayers. Cat shook her head. Was she such a terrible person, that she would do that to someone? Guilt poured down over her like thick syrup, clinging to her every pore.
She stood up and crossed to the closet. She may have created these people, she chided herself, amazed at how easily she accepted that fact, but that didn’t make them less real now than she was, right? They had feelings, lives, rights. And one right was not to be strung along by the likes of her.
She closed her eyes as she reached into the closet to pull out a sweater. She should call William back and put an end to things. She would call him back. But not on Christmas Day. She couldn’t break up with someone on Christmas.
“Cat? You finally awake? I’m making us Christmas pancakes,” Eliza called from the kitchen.
“Merry Christmas!” Cat shouted, pulling on the sweater and reaching for her jeans.
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Eliza sang in return. “Come see! Galen stopped by this morning on the way to his mom’s house with all these costumes—I mean, dresses. We can have a fashion show today.”
Cat walked out to see the couch draped with numerous different floor-length frocks. “On Christmas?” She fingered one of the dresses. “You really want to wear these? Do we have to wear corsets, too?”
“Yes, on Christmas.” Eliza walked into the living room, spatula in hand. “He was on his way out of town and won’t be back until after the New Year, so he wanted to make sure that we got the costumes. And no harsh corsets. They did wear stays, but nothing as restrictive as what you’re probably thinking about. No Gone with the Wind struggles.” She eyed Cat’s chest. “You probably don’t need them, anyway.”
“And you probably need two sets.”
Eliza threw the spatula at her.
Cat ducked, laughing. “I guess the pancakes are already done since you apparently don’t need that anymore?” She stooped to pick it up.
Eliza stuck her tongue out in response.
“Is this Gavin interested in you? A Christmas Day delivery seems rather above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Galen. And no.” Eliza’s lips curled up in amusement. “If you’d ever met him, you would know I’m not his type. He wants his own duke, too.”
“Alrighty, then.” Cat cocked an eyebrow. “Do I need to write two stories?”
“Ha, ha. Maybe.” Eliza picked up a gown and held it against her body.
“So many of these are white,” Cat said.
Eliza nodded. “Yeah, they wanted to imitate the classical styles of ancient Greece and Rome. You can jazz it up with a shawl or spencer.”
“What’s a spencer?”
“A short-waisted jacket intended to show off the gown underneath. Here, like this one.” Eliza held up a maroon example.
“You know your stuff.”
“I’d better if I’m going to have any chance on blending in once I’m there,” Eliza said with a wink. “I’ve been cramming for my history test, so to speak. Thank God for the History section of the store.”
“If you’re there,” Cat reminded her. “If.”
Eliza poked her. “Think positively, Eeyore. And come eat some pancakes.”
I am. I’m positive I don’t want you to go.
“Have you heard anything from Ben?” Cat asked a few days later, as she sorted through the books they were marking down for post-Christmas clearance.
“No,” Eliza answered, stacking paperbacks onto a rolling cart. “You could call him.”
“I have. Twice. Emailed him, too. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.” She tried to act nonchalant, but in truth, it ate at her, his silence. He obviously hadn’t felt the same way she did about that mistletoe kiss. She wished he’d say something, even if it were, Leave me alone. I’m involved.
Eliza peered at her friend. “I hope if he’s who you really want that you’d fight a little harder than that.”
“What can I do, Eliza? Run after him declaring my feelings?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you can do.” Eliza bobbed her head enthusiastically.
“I could never break up another couple. You know that.”
“Maybe you already have.”
Cat blanched.
“But if you did,” Eliza asserted, “it’s because that couple wasn’t supposed to be together. Just like you and Ryan were never meant to last—if you had been, he wouldn’t have cheated.”
Cat bit her lip. “I don’t know if I believe that.”
“You don’t have to. The universe will work out the way it’s supposed to. Including the parts that you don’t get to control.”
“You have more faith than I do.”
“You’ll see,” was all Eliza said. Her phone beeped, and she hopped up to check it. “Thirty-seven! We have thirty-seven people coming now, Cat.” Eliza clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, I can’t believe it’s in two days. I just can’t believe it.”
Cat smiled as she set the last book on the cart. “I know. I’m excited, too, I’ll admit. Once we close on New Year’s Eve, Jill and Shannon said they’d come over to help arrange the room. Scott is bringing finger sandwiches and punch. Is that Regency fare?”
Eliza shrugged. “Close enough. For once I’m not focusing on the food.”
“I guess not.” Catherine wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Who else is coming?”
&nb
sp; “Several of the Red Hat ladies, and even that cute older couple who were here for the poetry reading.”
“They’re on Facebook? I really am behind the times.”
“No, no, no.” Eliza grinned. “They stopped in yesterday to ask about the next Poetry Night, so I invited them.”
“Good.”
“I think the blue-haired girl is also coming, although I’m not sure she’s still together with the poetry-reading guy. At least from what her profile pic on Facebook indicates—she’s kissing someone else.”
“That’s a shame,” Cat said. “His poem didn’t do the trick, huh?”
“Guess not.” Eliza examined the room. “I think we should put the iPod dock over there. It’d be nice to have live musicians, but once I found out the cost for a quartet, downloading music from iTunes became a much more appealing option.”
“Yes, yes, we are nothing if not historically accurate,” Cat said.
“I will be getting all the historical accuracy I need in a few days,” Eliza stated with conviction. “For now, fudging the corners won’t harm anything.”
“Should we go over the plan one more time? Just in case some sexy dude in Hessian boots really does walk through the door?”
“Ooh, Hessians. You’ve been paying attention.” Cat winked.
“Wait until you see his cravat.”
Chapter 25
“We have to sing Auld Lang Syne at midnight,” Eliza said, as she hung fake flowers on the fireplace mantel. “If I’m still here, that is.”
“Okay,” mumbled Cat, as she arranged food on the refreshments table. She wasn’t looking forward to this ‘ball’ anymore. At best, she’d be entertaining a bunch of strangers late into the evening. Selling books was her forte; playing hostess was not. Besides, the only person she truly wanted to show up hadn’t answered her three emails or her two phone calls. It was painfully clear Ben Cooper wanted nothing to do with her, despite Eliza’s claims to the contrary.
Eliza. Cat looked over at her friend. Exuberance shone in Eliza’s animated face as she raced around the room, ensuring everything was just so. At worst, Eliza would disappear from her life. Forever. She pushed that thought from her mind. “You sure this is enough?” she called.
The Magic of Love Series Page 22
