Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  He pulled back, his palm on her cheek. “Maybe we could find a way…”

  Stepping away, she ended the connection. Just those words made her feel trapped all over again. She couldn’t face moving back to a city and that was where Elliot’s life was, his career and his future. More than that, she couldn’t face her mother finding out that she and Elliot were together. It would be hopeless. There was simply no way to have anything with Elliot but a brief affair. “I better—get home.” she whispered, unable to speak. With one last glance up to memorize his face, she bit her bottom lip. He looked so sad. “Goodbye, Elliot,” she choked, then turned and fled across the yard to her car.

  * * *

  The next morning Lizzie leaned against the pitchfork watching Ingrid and Lily prance around the paddock. They were such happy, curious animals. With a sigh she turned back to the barn, knowing she needed to hurry or she’d be late to the spa.

  She’d definitely not been in a working mood this morning. It had taken hours to calm down after telling Elliot goodbye the night before, but calm hadn’t brought peace. Tossing, turning, pacing, and more than a few tears had continued throughout the long dark hours until dawn.

  A cold breeze mussed her hair, telling of winter weather to come. Squinting, she gazed past her alpacas toward the wooded hillsides. Bare tree branches danced in the wind, and the pale morning sky held an emptiness she felt to her bones.

  She had gotten far too attached to Elliot.

  Bending to pat Lucky, she turned and left the barn, resolved to get on with the day; it would be a long one, for sure. There would be work at the spa, followed by opening night of the play. Not to mention facing the wrath and disappointment of her mother. Her telling everyone that her mother would be willing to star in the play wasn’t enough; the woman would be furious to learn that Lizzie had let Elliot go. As if she were in control of the man. Or anything, for that matter.

  Back in the house, she peeled off her coveralls, washed up, and collected her computer bag and purse, then hurried out to her car.

  Just stay busy, she thought, stay so busy there’ll be no time to think. She could take things as they came, as long as she didn’t overthink the situation and get herself all worked up.

  Gloria’s car was already at the spa when Lizzie pulled up, causing her to glance at her phone to be sure she wasn’t late. As she climbed the porch steps, Gloria followed. Lizzie stuffed the keys in her purse as she pushed open the door, allowing the younger woman to go in first. Shocked to see that the girl’s eyes were red and puffy, Lizzie watched Gloria from the corner of her eye as she placed her computer bag and purse behind the counter. “Are you okay?” she asked tentatively, concerned for her coworker and friend.

  With a shrug and a sniff, Gloria turned to head down the hall.

  Lizzie bit her lip, thinking through her options. She was in no position to offer anyone comfort or support today––she was barely able to keep a brave face in place herself––but soft sobs from the towel closet forced her past her own problems and toward Gloria.

  She tapped on the closet door. “Gloria, honey, can I talk to you?”

  The sobbing quieted and the door cracked open, revealing a tear-streaked cheek and one makeup-smudged eye. “I’ll be right out, sorry.”

  “No—no, I don’t need— Can I come in?”

  The eye widened and Lizzie waited, hoping her friend would decide to talk. Finally the door swung open and Lizzie stepped into the closet. The door closed with a click and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Barely making out the crack of light under the door, she reached out, groping to touch the girl’s sleeve. She tried to think of something supportive to say. “Gloria? Honey, let’s talk out in the lobby.”

  The door clicked opened behind her, flooding light into the enclosed space. Lizzie blinked, embarrassed to see that she had been talking to the folded ironing board. Turning toward the glare, she squinted at the outline of Gloria holding open the door.

  Gloria’s head tilted to one side. “Lizzie?”

  Collecting her tattered pride, Lizzie dropped her hand, straightened her shoulders and paced from the closet. Overcome with embarrassment and still reeling from her own concerns, she immediately felt the urge to go back in the closet and shut out the world, but then Gloria’s tear-streaked face regained her attention. With an inward sigh, she collected her thoughts and motioned for Gloria to follow. In the lobby, she dropped onto the sofa and patted the seat next to her.

  Gloria hesitantly perched on the edge of the couch, her hands in her lap and her eyes downcast.

  Glancing at the clock, Lizzie knew they wouldn’t have much time before clients arrived. “What happened, honey? Why are you so upset?”

  With a sniff, Gloria shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing that hasn’t happened to me a billion times…”

  “Which is?”

  “Getting dumped,” Gloria huffed. “No big shock.”

  Lizzie frowned. “Why would you say that? No one wants to be let down.”

  “I know… I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

  “What makes you think it’s your fault?” Lizzie asked, then immediately wondered if the defensive stance was due to her own situation.

  Gloria shrugged again, wiping at her smeared eye makeup. “I don’t know, it’s been like this since my first boyfriend left, even though…”

  Lizzie waited, trying not to rush her friend.

  Backing up to explain, Gloria continued. “Billy. His name was Billy, and he and I dated in high school.”

  With a nod, Lizzie smiled to offer encouragement.

  “Well, he said I was plain. You know, boring. I wasn’t sexy.”

  Lizzie sat up straighter, finding it hard to believe any man could think that Gloria wasn’t sexy. “I—I don’t understand.”

  Gloria snorted. “Well, I didn’t dress like this back then. I was…ordinary.”

  Stunned, Lizzie tried to imagine Gloria without false eyelashes, impressive cleavage, brassy hair, and long red fingernails. “Ordinary…”

  “Well, yeah, so after we broke up I said, ‘To hell with that!’ and I bought all new tight clothes and short skirts and super-high heels and a ton of makeup.” Gloria hesitated, as if she were giving Lizzie time to catch up. “And sure enough,” she continued, “men started coming out of the woodwork. I had dates lined up around the block. So, I showed him!”

  Lizzie grimaced inwardly and glanced away, finally understanding Gloria a bit better. “I bet you did…”

  On a roll, Gloria continued. “I got no trouble getting a man, it’s keeping a man I can’t seem to manage.”

  The confession hung in the space between the women, taking on the shape of a story, and both examined it.

  Clearing her throat, Lizzie considered her words carefully. “Can I ask you what makes you think Billy is the authority on how to keep a man?”

  Gloria’s eyes widened, then darted to one side and finally down to her lap. She was silent for several long seconds; then she glanced up. “I—I don’t understand…”

  “Well, just because Billy thought you were boring, why did you think that all men would find you boring?”

  “Because as soon as I went all sexy, I had lots of men.”

  “For how long?”

  Gloria hesitated, her brow furrowed. “That’s—pretty much the problem. Even though they seem to like me real well, it never turns into a relationship.”

  Lizzie nodded, encouraging her friend to continue with that line of thought. “When does it seem to fall apart?”

  Gloria’s gaze returned to her lap and she fell silent.

  Placing her hand on Gloria’s knee, Lizzie wished the girl in front of her had never been treated so badly. “Honey…?”

  Shifting as if to move away from the question, Gloria finally answered. “They all either find another girl, or they take off as soon as they see that I want—you know, to be their girl.”

  Lizzie sighed, her thoughts spinning,
wondering how she could help Gloria understand. “You know, honey, sometimes people are hurt by another person’s opinion, so they go overboard to prove that person wrong.”

  Gloria stared at Lizzie, her expression blank.

  Coming at it from another angle, Lizzie tried again. “See…Billy may have believed that only girls in tight dresses or high heels were interesting, but other men may want different things.”

  The younger woman still seemed unsure.

  “Let me ask you this: the guys who take a girl to meet their momma, or the ones they choose to have their babies, how do you think they picture those girls in their mind?”

  Gloria shrugged. “I don’t know, nice girls I guess…”

  “And how do they picture a girl that is—well—a good time?”

  A light went on behind Gloria’s eyes, but then it dimmed and she looked even sadder than before. “You mean…I look like fun but…”

  Lizzie nodded. “I think you may be on the right track there…”

  Slapping her hands to the sides of her head, Gloria looked as if she might implode. “Oh my God! Billy treated me so bad, like I was nothing. I don’t want to be his kind of girl!”

  “Exactly.” Lizzie grinned. “You are beautiful without all the flash. I bet if you were just yourself instead of what Billy said you should be, you’d do just fine.”

  Gloria’s hands dropped to her lap. “Goodness…how did I ever get so off track?”

  Lizzie stood, glancing toward the door, knowing clients would be arriving any moment. “Don’t be hard on yourself,” she assured her friend. “Sometimes when a person hurts your feelings, you bend over backward to prove them wrong. At some point you realize that they still control you, because with their voice in your head, you’re not acting like you normally would.”

  Rising from the couch, Gloria threw her arms around Lizzie, hugging her tight. Then, with a shy smile, she hurried toward the restroom to fix her eye makeup.

  As the bells over the door jangled, announcing the arrival of a gaggle of excited neighbors and friends, Lizzie’s skin went cold and her eyes widened. What had she just said? Did she say “…you’re not acting like you normally would…”

  As she dropped limply onto the sofa, Lizzie’s world shifted once again on its axis. Was that what she’d been doing? Instead of making her own life, had she been doing the exact opposite of what her mother wanted? Not with the farm––she was sure of her choice to live in the country––but what about her clothes and everything else, from her dishes to her furniture to her…Elliot?

  “Oh no…” she murmured, a vise pressing the air from her lungs. Elliot had been amazing, maybe even perfect for her, and she had kept him at arm’s length because she didn’t want to give in to anything her mother wanted, no matter what. Maybe she hadn’t kept Elliot at exactly arm’s length, she had to admit, but she’d let him go, told him it would never work.

  What had she done?

  Jumping from the sofa, she headed across the room, shouldering her way through the group of women. “I have to go!” she called to Gloria as she flung open the door. “Give everyone a rain check!”

  She pounded down the porch steps and took off across the yard at a dead run, desperate to catch Elliot before he left for D.C. When she reached the inn, she tore up the steps and across the deck, and yanked open the French doors.

  Justin and Harold jumped in their seats at the breakfast table, their eyes wide. Justin stood, his napkin falling to the floor. “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Elliot?” Lizzie huffed, her fingers pressing into the stitch in her side, her eyes searching the dining room, then the kitchen.

  Glancing to Harold and then back to Lizzie, Justin frowned. “He was gone before we woke up…”

  Chapter Twenty

  “No!… I thought…” Lizzie clutched at the kitchen counter, looking for support.

  Sidestepping the table, Justin hurried to her side, taking her elbow. “I’m sorry, Lizzie, I thought you knew Elliot was leaving this morning.”

  She allowed Justin to lead her to the table, where she dropped, limp, into a chair.

  Justin ran his fingers through his hair. “He had a lot of things to clear up back in D.C. with his office, and he was concerned about his father. That man can be…” Justin stopped, his eyes shifting to Harold.

  Lizzie nodded, then dropped her elbow on the table, her forehead in her palm.

  Harold’s fork paused in midair, a frown growing below his mustache. He glanced at Justin, then back to Lizzie. Finally, he put down his fork and rose with a huff to circle the table. Crouching at his daughter’s side, he took her hand. “What happened between you two, honey? I thought you two were—”

  Unable to face any more, Lizzie folded her arms on the tabletop and buried her face in them.

  Harold patted her back, unsure what to do.

  “Lizzie!” Tara cried as she hurried into the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come with me right now—”

  Lifting her head, her expression bleak, Lizzie saw Tara’s back disappear around the corner to the living room. Her head swiveled up to Justin, her expression full of question, but he shrugged in answer.

  With a sigh, Lizzie stood and headed across the kitchen to see what Tara needed so urgently. Her feet dragged as she walked, and she found it difficult to drudge up anything but despair. Couldn’t everyone see she was floundering?

  Tara waited at the stair landing. “Come on.” She gestured with her hand for Lizzie to hurry. “I need you up here now.”

  Lizzie supposed she should have been interested in what Tara needed, but she couldn’t find the will to give a damn.

  On the landing, Tara took her elbow to hurry her along. “I thought I’d have to go get you from the spa, thank goodness you were already here.”

  Finding herself dragged through the TV room, Lizzie dug in her heels, causing Tara to turn to her in question. Lizzie shook off her friend’s grip. “What happened? Why are you all freaked out?”

  “She won’t come out!” Tara said, gesturing down the hall toward the guest rooms.

  “Who?” Lizzie asked, in no mood for a puzzle.

  Tara grabbed Lizzie by both upper arms, her face a few inches from Lizzie’s. “Your mother! I knocked to tell her breakfast was ready, but she says she’s never coming out, and she sounds like she’s crying.” Tara took a step back, letting go of Lizzie to wring her hands. “I don’t know what to do!”

  Lizzie shook her head. “No, there’s been some mistake. My mother doesn’t cry.”

  “Well, she is now.” Tara replied, her concern apparent.

  Pushing on her temples, Lizzie clamped her eyes closed and longed for somewhere to hide. A place where she’d never have to see anyone, ever again. She didn’t want to deal with her mother right now. Or ever again, for that matter. The woman had spent a lifetime lying and had made a mess of everything. This had to be some kind of manipulative ploy. Her mother must have heard that Elliot had left, and she was trying a new tactic.

  Lizzie’s hands dropped and she straightened her shoulders. Up till today, she’d allowed her mother to twist her into a quivering mess, unsure of anything, but that would end right now. She understood her part in the mess now, and she was taking responsibility as of this moment. She’d be making her own choices, her mother’s ranting or joy be damned.

  She had let Elliot go because she was too focused on her own issues to see how wonderful he truly was. She hadn’t asked him about his plans or business trouble. He’d been kind and funny and supportive, and not once had she had the time or wherewithal to show any interest in his life.

  As she marched down the hall, she made up her mind. She’d tell her mother to go to hell; then she’d drive to D.C. and offer some long-overdue friendship and support to Elliot. It was the least she could do after the way she’d treated him.

  Tara skipped along beside Lizzie. “Um…maybe I should try to talk to her again, and you can—”

  “Which r
oom?” Lizzie demanded as she marched.

  Biting the side of her lip, Tara’s eyes darted from Lizzie to the floor and back. “Really, I think I can handle this after all…”

  Lizzie gave her friend the evil eye. “Which. Room.”

  Tara shrank back, her eyes wide. Finally, she pointed to the door across the hall.

  Lizzie took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob. The door creaked open, and Lizzie scanned the room for her mother. Both barrels were loaded; all she needed now was a target.

  Beatrice sat on the padded window seat, her back to the door. As her daughter entered she turned, giving Lizzie her first glance at her mother’s tear-streaked face. Caught off guard, Lizzie faltered for a moment, then collected her anger back around her and continued forward. “What’s going on, Mother? You’ve got Tara all upset.”

  The older woman sniffed and dabbed her nose with a crumpled tissue, then turned back toward the window.

  She was good, Lizzie had to admit. The woman truly looked upset, maybe even heartbroken. She tried again. “Come down to breakfast now and stop making a scene.”

  Silence followed as Beatrice ignored her daughter.

  This was true to character, Lizzie assured herself; her mother had never cared what she needed or wanted. Determined that she had the resolve needed to get through this, Lizzie stood straight and crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for the shitstorm to break. Seconds ticked on and Lizzie grew impatient; she had places to go. Finally, she dropped her arms with a huff and stomped to the window. “Really, Mother? What are you up to?”

  Much to Lizzie’s surprise, her mother burst into tears. Not the theatrical kind that drip down your cheeks and make your eyes shine, but the full-blown, shoulder-wrenching, hiccupping kind.

  Lizzie shifted from one foot to the other, struggling to stay angry as she contemplated what to do next. Realizing she might have to play along to get the ball rolling, she dropped onto the window seat, facing her mother. “Okay…tell me. Why are you crying?”