The Fifth Avenue Story Society

by Rachel Hauck

  Inside, he put his tools away and checked the pot roast he’d put in the Crock-Pot before breakfast.

  The aroma of the meat along with the garlic, onion, olive oil, and smoked paprika made his stomach grab his ribs, trying for a look-see.

  He checked to see if the wine was properly chilled, then headed for the shower. Dinner would be ready in a half hour.

  Donning his blue suit and matching tie, he checked his appearance, smoothed back his damp gray hair, and leaned toward the mirror.

  Ed Marshall, you’re not a bad-looking cuss.

  Holly said there was something different about him. She was right. He could finally see for himself. The lie was gone.

  She had stayed with him Monday night and again on Tuesday. They talked a lot, especially about Esmerelda. He told Holly the cold, hard truth from their first meeting to their last.

  Even the Christmas memory he’d penned ended with what really happened. Not what he wished had happened. Esmerelda drunk in the stairwell, high on reefer.

  He could admit it now, but that night he realized the kind of woman he’d married and lost a bit of hope.

  But this Friday night, he charted a new course. Never too late to begin again. As long as he had breath in his lungs.

  He buttoned his jacket, then unbuttoned it. Buttoned was too formal. And he could finally admit Esmerelda hated him in suits. She’d never even seen him in this one.

  Hearing a sound in the hall, he scooted out of the bedroom, around the living room wall, and jerked open the door.

  “Mabel.”

  “Ed, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She carried a loaded tote toward her place, a thin weariness in her voice. “I’ll be out of your hair. Don’t worry. I won’t invite you in for brownies.”

  “Mabel?”

  “What is it, Ed?” She worked her key into the lock without looking back. “I’ve had a long day babysitting my grandkids.”

  He ran to carry her bags inside. She looked frazzled but very pretty. “How were the grandkids?”

  “Energetic.” She set her pocketbook on the counter. “What’s going on?”

  “Will you have dinner with me?”

  “Now?” She made a face and reached into one of the totes for a gallon of ice cream.

  “Yes, or when you’re ready. The pot roast is almost done. I’m just letting it stand. Who knew you had to let beef stand?” He’d been reading up, learning to cook. Poor Holly had to survive on his fried chicken and spaghetti until she took on food chores in high school. “Is fifteen minutes enough time?”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  She glanced down at her wrinkled top and jeans. “I’ll need to change.”

  “I’ll leave my door open.”

  “You’re wearing a suit.”

  “I like to dress up for the women in my life.”

  She blushed and giggled, and Ed felt a bit dizzy. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Truth. And it’s set me free.”

  He helped her unpack her groceries, laughing at her stories of what the two-year-old learned to say last week, then left her to change. He did a jig back to his place and clicked his heels.

  Oomph. He fell against the wall. Too old for heel clicks. Maybe he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but his heart was going zing, zing, zing.

  He set the table with a cloth and china plates. Yes, the ones he and Esmerelda got for their wedding. She scorned them. They were too much like her parents’. He planned to give them to Holly one day. Or his grandchildren. Whichever one wanted them.

  Or maybe he’d throw them out and start over. They represented nothing but heartache. But tonight, he decided they represented redemption.

  Lighting a few candles, he surveyed the romantic scene. With a nervous twitch, he doused the flames. Too much. You’ll scare her, Ed.

  In his den sat a stack of papers. Typewritten with a fury this week. His story. The real story of raising his daughter alone while trying to hold on to the dream of Esmerelda.

  This version had emotion and lots of it. And all the dark, ugly truths.

  When he’d written a bit more, he was going to show Jett. He hoped the professor hadn’t abandoned their little society. It was just getting good.

  He’d just set the pot roast on a serving platter when his phone rang.

  “Hey, Dad, just calling to see how you’re doing?” She’d called almost every night since the big confession. Since he cried against her.

  “Great. Fixing a pot roast.”

  “A pot roast? That’s a pretty big meal for one man.”

  “Holly,” Ed said, “I have a date. At least I think I do.”

  “A date? Wow, Papa, with who? Don’t tell me. Mabel?”

  “Yes, but shhh, it’s just dinner. There she is at the door.”

  “Call me later. Tell me everything.” Her laugh took him back to when she went out the door on a date.

  “Wake me up when you get home. Tell me everything.”

  “Smells wonderful,” Mabel said, holding up a foil-wrapped dish. “I hope you don’t mind but I brought a contribution of my own.”

  Ed slid off the covering. “Brownies.”

  “I know you shoved them away before but—”

  He kissed her without hesitation and prejudice, one hand trembling against her back, the other slipping around her waist.

  He was gentle, if not tentative. It’d been a long time since he tasted a woman. Mabel gasped at first, then laid her arm about his neck.

  “What’s all this?” she said when he finally raised his head. Her eyes beamed with approval.

  “About getting on track. Joining the land of the living.” He set the brownies on the counter, then took out a knife. “Let’s start with dessert. I’ve been waiting a long, long time to eat a brownie again.”

  * * *

  Coral

  The first week since the FBI cuffed and carried out her chief officers was in the history books. She was exhausted yet invigorated.

  And she was in love. She felt Chuck’s presence everywhere she went. They texted each other all day. Met for lunch whenever possible, and last night, they dined on her terrace overlooking the city.

  Next week she would head out on the goodwill tour to regional reps and distributors. And it looked like visits to the London and Paris offices would be needed before the end of the year.

  In more good news, Pink Coral was continuing to sell, and Crimson Coral was on the fast track for a holiday release.

  She’d given the design team carte blanche, and the mock-ups and product tests were spot-on.

  But it was five o’clock on Friday. She was heading home. Tonight was her first party with church friends. She’d invited Jett, but he declined. This time. She’d get him over sooner or later. And she still struggled to think of Lexa moving across the country.

  Ed also declined but promised to come to her next movie night.

  She must’ve called her housekeeper and chef five times each today to make sure the food and house were ready.

  Around three when she was tempted to call again, she felt the peace in the air. Leave it alone. It’ll be fine.

  She was even more nervous to see Chuck. Not nervous, excited. He loved church. Sang the songs so loud she was forced to sing louder herself. He met with the pastor and even volunteered for an early morning prayer meeting.

  She hadn’t even done that yet.

  She was falling in love, but he seemed stuck on her former life as an almost princess. But she was so Julia Roberts in Notting Hill. Just a girl asking a boy to love her.

  “Matt, is the car here?” She stuck her head around the door between her office and her assistant’s.

  “On his way. And you have a message from Holly Cook, one of the producers from Good Morning, New York. She wants to know if you’ll do an interview with them about the prince. She said no pressure. She’s willing to just talk. I thanked her and told her no. I can’t believe the media i
s still hounding you—”

  “Tell her yes.” Her response settled. Was she really willing to tell her story to the world? “I’ll do it.”

  Matt’s wide eyes said a million words. She’d turned down every media outlet and millions of dollars to keep her story private.

  “Are you sure?”

  Coral thought for a moment. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve met her. She’s the daughter of a very good friend. I trust her.”

  “Any particular time?” Matt launched her calendar and scrolled through the blocked-out, busy weeks.

  “You coordinate. Just let me know. See you Monday, Matt.”

  She was ready to be bold and tell the whole truth of why she left Gus. Including her run-in with God. And maybe hint she’d found love once again.

  * * *

  Chuck

  He had a date. Tonight. With Coral. Nothing fancy. A movie at her place with new friends from church. So yeah, it wasn’t really a date. It was a get-together he was invited to attend.

  But he jumped at the chance to be with her, to get to know her more as well as her church friends.

  His impression of churchgoers had never been too favorable, but the past two Sundays at Grace Church had started to redraw his picture.

  He hoped they were as cool tonight as they were in the church foyer, because last week he’d signed up for this God journey. Handed over control of his life to a man named Jesus. Who was also God.

  Yeah, sure, he made the decision quick, but he knew it was right. In his gut. With or without Coral, he was going for it. She just made the ride so much sweeter.

  In the meantime, he had a fare to pick up in midtown. He slowed as he made his way down Broadway looking for a woman in a red coat and black boots.

  He pulled to an open spot along the curb when his phone pinged. She was on her way.

  While waiting, he thumbed through his messages, rereading a text sent last night from Trudy’s Mom, Wanda.

  I talked to her. She’s not as riled about Coral as she was or the fact Jakey said he saw you. Lay low and hang in there.

  Chuck nearly wept when he read her words. There was hope.

  The backseat passenger door opened. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I almost left.” He glanced at the woman via the mirror. “JFK? Hey, you’re the agent.”

  “What do you know? The magic-book man. Yes, JFK.”

  “Right, the magic book.”

  “I had lunch with a children’s publisher a few weeks ago and in the course of conversation, told her your idea. She loved it. I said too bad because he was my Uber driver and I couldn’t remember his name.”

  “Chuck Mays.” He pulled into traffic. “And my idea is just that, an idea.”

  “But a great one. I’m putting your name in my contacts. What’s your phone number?”

  He rattled it off, wedging through midtown traffic, the conversation jerking him a bit sideways. He wasn’t a writer.

  “Did you give my card to Jett Wilder?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “If he hasn’t called you, there’s your answer.”

  “Remind him I’m available if he wants to talk. Now tell me what’s happened in your life since you last drove me around town.”

  He told her the simple version of the kids’ party, of his friends at the society, and the movie he was taking in tonight with new church friends.

  She told him how her high-maintenance author was driving her nuts, but since her book sold at auction for five hundred grand, she was putting up with her. For now.

  When Chuck arrived at the airport, Lucy dropped her card into the passenger seat again along with a twenty. “Put my number in your phone. See you again, magic-book man.”

  For the rest of the day, he thought a lot about his magic book. More stories came to mind. Different adventures his young characters could take.

  When he was done for the day, he headed to Ed’s, where he added Lucy’s number to his contacts and jotted down his ideas on a sheet of paper from the stack Ed kept by his typewriter.

  Then he shot the breeze with his friend until it was time to shower and head to Coral’s Park Avenue penthouse.

  Mysterious invitations. Agents requesting his book idea. Gorgeous heiresses wanting to hang out with him. His ex-mother-in-law texting him to hang in there.

  Maybe there was a God looking out for him. Despite his mistakes.

  At Coral’s, she knocked his socks off when she answered the door. She wore a white T-shirt and snug jeans, and her long blonde hair flowed loose down her back.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She reached for his hand. “Kirk and Mari just arrived. They have the cutest baby—”

  He caught her in his arms and lowered his lips to hers as he ran his hand down her back. She was curvy and warm beneath his palm, and the press of her body made him feel a little bit more whole.

  Her lips surrendered to his and when he pulled her closer, he could almost taste the goodness of her heart.

  When he broke away, she smiled up at him. “I knew you’d be a good kisser, Chuck Mays.”

  “Well, if you think I’m a good kisser you should—”

  “Hey, don’t rev the engine too loud.” She tugged on his plaid shirt. “We’re not married yet.” She gave him a deep, lush kiss. “Come on. I think I smell popcorn. Kirk, Mari, you remember Chuck. My boyfriend.”

  Chapter 35

  Lexa

  Schlepping through her tiny living room in her comfy sweats with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she carried her ZB Burger past the open door, the sound of life beyond her walls echoing.

  Only tonight wasn’t Friday but Sunday. And she’d just arrived home from five days in Seattle. She’d found a penthouse overlooking the bay.

  She’d move in on the twenty-fifth.

  Dropping into her red chair, she bit into the juicy burger. She was going to miss her favorite gourmet burger. Zane had yet to open a store in the Pacific Northwest.

  Wiping her chin with her napkin, she dusted off a bit of her CCW charcoal mask. She’d considered changing her routine once she got settled in Seattle, take advantage of a fresh start and not spend her weekends holed up with goop on her face.

  Seattle had a lot of unique culture to explore.

  She stuffed a truffle fry in her mouth, washed it down with a swig of Diet Coke, then scanned email on her phone.

  Jenn and Ki weren’t waiting for her to be boots on the ground. Lexa had officially started work November 11 when Ki and Jenn shifted the day-to-day operations to her.

  Human resources, accounting, admin, marketing and promotion, community initiatives, production, and sales were under her command.

  Everything she’d handled with Zane. The key word being with. She felt a bit alone and adrift at The Glass Fork.

  Ki wasn’t one for details. He liked to dump things over the wall and move on. He also traveled and worked with large retail outlets and celebrity endorsements. Jenn was eyeball-deep in recipe development and had suddenly become unreachable.

  Another truffle fry eased her growing anxiety. Was she in over her head? Zane’s lack of confidence in promoting her shouted from the rooftops of her mind.

  You’re not ready!

  Shaking off the thought, she distracted herself with a Netflix rerun. When her phone buzzed, she was happy to see Coral’s name and number.

  “I loved the picture of your place. How’s it being back in New York?”

  “Good. Sad. But I love my new apartment. The bay is beautiful at night.”

  They talked for a long time about Seattle and how to jump into the job with both feet. Coral had a lot of wisdom and advice.

  Then she shifted the conversation.

  “Since you’re not going out until the twenty-fifth, won’t you come to Jett’s reception? Let it be our final night together as a society before you leave.”

  “I don’t think he’s talking to me. I sent him a picture of my apartment and he just said, ‘Cool.’ I�
�m not sure he’d want me there.”

  “He’s hiding because you’re leaving and he’s in love with you.”

  “Coral, you’re the one who’s in love.”

  “I know.” She laughed. “He kissed me.”

  “Chuck? Kissed you? Spill, girl. Spill.”

  And so the conversation flowed. Chuck was a gentle giant, a great kisser, and Coral was pretty sure, “the one.”

  “Which brings me back to Jett. Please come.”

  Lexa set her takeout container on the floor. “I think it will make leaving too hard, Coral. I’d rather have a clean break. No formal goodbye. Just an expectation I’ll see him one day. Run into him on the street. Never mind our streets are three thousand miles apart.”

  “Are you sure you want to move across the country?”

  “Weren’t you the one who told me I couldn’t fix Jett?”

  “Don’t bite me with my own advice.”

  “It’s a great job, exactly what I want. It feels like . . . kismet.” Jett used to love that word.

  “Well, if you’re sure . . .” Coral’s voice dropped low. “I’ll text you from the reception. And we’re having lunch before you go. I insist.”

  Lexa laughed through a rise of tears. “Fine. Tuesday? At Virgil’s? And no surprises. Just you and me.”

  Coral updated Lexa on CCW and the holiday launch of Crimson Coral. When they got to talking of marketing, Lexa brainstormed several ideas with the cosmetic heiress.

  By the time they hung up, Coral had a list of ten ideas.

  “No charge,” Lexa said. “My parting gift to you.”

  They’d just hung up when a knock rattled her door.

  “Abby? Come on in. It’s open.” Lexa dumped the burger and fry wrappers in the trash. “What do you have going on tonight? Oh, do you want my water purifier? I’m not going to take it.”

  When she came out of the kitchen, the diminutive, lovely Gilda from the library stood in the living room.

  “Gilda, what are you doing here?”

  “Take this to Jett.” She handed over a leather satchel. Lexa recognized it as his much-used and favorite bag from college. “Tonight.”