Hometown Series Box Set

by Kirsten Fullmer

  “You look perfect,” Beatrice gushed, circling her like a hawk. “Simply perfect! It was worth missing the pageant to do this. Then again, it was outdoors…”

  Fergus hobbled up to his granddaughter, his eyes sparkling. The hunch of his back forced him to kink his neck to meet her eye. “I’m so happy fer ya,” he whispered, clasping her hand with his crooked fingers.

  Gloria tucked her purse under her arm and bent to kiss his cheek, leaving a fresh lipstick mark on his wrinkled skin. She reached up to brush it away with her thumb, but Beatrice interrupted her, using a tissue, to save her gloves.

  Gloria smiled lovingly at her grandfather. “I love you, Grandpa.”

  “I love you too, sweetie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You go have fun. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

  His words pierced her reverie, and a spark ran down her back, reminding her that this was just the beginning of the surprise.

  Harold put out his hand, gesturing toward the door. “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

  Beatrice held out her new full-length dress coat, and Gloria, without even time to admire it, tucked her arms into the sleeves. Harold took her elbow and led her out onto the porch and down the step.

  Gloria stopped with a jolt, then turned back to hurry up the steps.

  “What are you—” Beatrice started but was enveloped in a hug before she could finish the sentence.

  “Oh, Beatrice,” Gloria whispered in her ear. “You’re wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  Huffing, the older woman tapped Gloria on the back, a blush rising on her cheeks. “Now, now, don’t muss yourself,” she blustered.

  The limo driver jumped from the car and rushed around to open the back door. Gloria took Harold’s arm to once again head down the steps. When she reached the car, the driver handed her a sealed envelope, another letter from her secret admirer, then offered a bow.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, taking the letter. As she bent to climb into the car, Harold held up the edge of her dress to keep it from dragging in the snow. Once she was tucked into the seat, the driver closed her door. With tears threatening in her eyes, she touched the window, watching as Harold joined Beatrice and Fergus on the front porch, all of them waving madly.

  “Remember not to step on the hem of your gown!” Beatrice called out as the car pulled away.

  Soon the limo was whizzing down the freeway. Gloria had no idea where they were going, but they were headed there at top cruising speed, if the haste in which they zipped past everyone else on the on the road was any indication. The ride was so smooth she felt as if she was flying, and the inside of the limo was something to behold. Along one whole side of the interior was an upholstered leather and glass bar, stocked with water, every type of alcohol imaginable, and every snack she could fancy. LED lights ran the length of the ceiling, and the soft grey leather seats were plush and deep.

  A hysterical giggle burst from her lips as she realized she was a modern-day Cinderella, stuffed into her dress and shoes by a fairy godmother, on her way to a— she had no idea where they were going.

  The letter! She pulled out the envelope and slipped one gloved thumb under the flap. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the folded piece of paper.

  To paraphrase John Legend ~ You’re my windfall; you're my muse,

  my best distraction, my rhythm and blues.

  To me, you’re simply… everything

  So please relax now and enjoy our evening.

  The letter hadn’t explained what on earth was happening, so relaxing wasn’t likely! But she read the words again, smiling over the song quote. Leaning back into the seat she looked out the window, and the letter dropped to her lap. They were headed north, she knew that much, and they’d be getting to the Pittsburgh area within thirty minutes.

  Glancing down, she saw a red button labeled intercom, and she pressed it, feeling guilty as if she were interrupting the driver behind the dark screen while he was working.

  “Yes, Miss Gloria?” the man’s deep voice asked through a speaker overhead. “How may I help you?”

  “Um, yes,” she said awkwardly, unsure where to look. “Where are we going?”

  “To your Christmas surprise, ma’am,” the driver’s disembodied voice said.

  “Where exactly is my surprise?”

  The voice chuckled. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

  She jerked her finger off the button. This was all very lovely, but she wanted to know what was going to happen. More than a bit of her apprehension came from the fact that she had no idea who she was going to meet, not to mention her worries about what she’d say, or what they’d have in common. The list went on and on.

  Plus she was still more than a little broken up about Ned. It had only been a matter of hours since her heart had been crushed. “Trust me,” she moaned, “to have the shortest love affair of all time.” It had ended five minutes before she even knew she was in love.

  Wishing she’d had a chance to brush her teeth, Gloria cupped her hand and puffed into it, testing her breath, then laid her head back into the plush seat. Mindful of her hair-do, however, she sat up straight again.

  This whole day had been absolutely insane, yet here she was, gliding down the freeway in a lovely gown, wearing real jewels, in a stretch limo. Straitening her shoulders, she decided she may as well have a glass of wine to soothe her nerves while she waited. This was certainly the most unique and unexpected Christmas Eve she could have ever imagined. No, she amended, she could never even have imagined all of this.

  * * *

  About the time she tipped up the wine glass to drain the last sip, wishing it had done more to calm her, the car slowed and pulled up to the curb. She placed her glass on the bar and kinked her neck, trying to look out the window, but the crowd on the sidewalk blocked her view. The driver came around and opened her door, and she stretched one silk stocking clad leg out. Taking the driver’s hand, she stepped from the car, surprised to see a red carpet at her feet, leading up to the door of a club. Her head tipped back as she read a neon sign overhead that blinked The Blues Boulevard in pink and blue flashing lights. The driver closed the car door and motioned for her to head inside, but she hesitated. “You’re not coming with me?”

  He chuckled. “No, ma’am. But I’m sure you’ll have a lovely evening.”

  Turning back toward the club, her face showed her doubt.

  The driver waved his hand, and the crowd on the sidewalk parted, everyone turning to stare at the woman who had appeared in such style and gained entrance before them. Men smiled, and women murmured to each other as they inspected the new arrival.

  The gawking throng left Gloria feeling overdressed and overwhelmed. The people in the crowd wore suits and gowns, but her glittering dress and jewels sparkled and winkled in the flashing lights, overshadowing all. Finally, after one more glance at the driver, she decided to go in. Just then she caught her image in the limo window. The woman reflected there looked like a gorgeous, wide-eyed starlet heading into the Oscars.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gloria swallowed hard and clutched her small purse in a death grip. Then, offering the crowd a shy smile, she headed toward the door of the club. Two men held open the doors, each grinning at her with sparks flashing in their eyes, and she inclined her head to each.

  Once inside, she tried not to gawk like a country bumpkin at the interior of the lavish club. She was one of the last to be seated, if the crowd was any indication, making her wonder how many people attended clubs on Christmas Eve. Evidently a great many.

  When she reached the hostess she opened her mouth to ask where she should sit, but when the woman turned, the words froze on Gloria’s lips. It was Marjory. The Marjory who’d been with Ned at lunch.

  The room spun around her, and she reached out to place one gloved hand on the wall for support. What on earth was happening? This whole day had been a scramble of strange and painful confrontations, and she was way past her break
ing point.

  “Gloria,” Marjory crooned, a smile lighting her face. “I’m so happy to see you.” The beautiful woman’s eyes scanned Gloria up and down as she took her coat, then she nodded. “You look exquisite, my dear.”

  Finding her voice, Gloria floundered. “Thank you.” She really wanted to ask why on earth they were doing this to her, whoever they were.

  “Don’t worry, my dear,” Marjory said, tucking her hand into the crook of Gloria’s gloved arm and leading her into the club. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

  It was all Gloria could do to walk upright, allowing Marjory to lead her to a table.

  Extending her hand to a table sitting alone on a dais near the stage, Marjory nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead, darling. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No,” Gloria answered, wishing she’d never come on this crazy ride. Feeling trapped and very much alone, she slid into a chair.

  Marjory hesitated. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time,” she assured, offering a friendly smile. But Gloria was certain the woman was wrong. None of this made sense.

  Left alone, Gloria took a moment to wallow in despair, but then her characteristic core of steel kicked in and she straightened her shoulders. If she was here, dressed like a queen, the least she could do was look like one. But inside her heart was breaking. She glanced over one shoulder toward the crowd milling between tables as they took their seats. The people all seemed so happy, so excited, but she was quite the opposite. It felt as if she were being mocked. Dressed up, put on display, and mocked. Look at the silly country girl who thought she was in love. See her pretending to be sophisticated. Look at her fear…

  A commotion on the curtained stage drew her attention, and Gloria turned to her left to see Marjory step up to the microphone. “Welcome to my club, The Blue Boulevard,” she said, in her strange and beautiful accent. “It’s a truly extraordinary evening, so please, allow me to wish you all a Merry Christmas!”

  The crowd cheered, raising drinks for a toast, caught up in the reverie of the holiday spirit, but Gloria’s heart only sank further. Marjory owned the club? Good Lord, how had she ever thought that Ned would find someone like her, little red-headed, hometown Gloria, attractive? This was the type of women he spent time with!

  Shrinking in her skin, she wished with all her might that she were back home in her pajamas, next to the twinkling tree in her tiny living room, with Fergus.

  “I know you’ve all been looking forward to this very special Holiday performance,” Marjory continued, extending one arm toward the stage. “So, without any further ado, allow me to introduce… Eddie Midnight and the After Dark Orchestra!”

  The curtain fluttered open, unveiling a big-band orchestra, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause.

  Staring down at the table, feeling more alone than ever, Gloria clamped her fingers tighter around her purse, wondering how she’d ever escape this place. She didn’t have any idea where she was, no cash, or even a ride home.

  The crowd cheered madly, nearly raising the roof, and the lights dimmed. The noise was deafening, and everything sparkled red and green from the chandelier over her table. Gloria winced and hunched her shoulders, wanting only to block out the club and the uproar. Unable to stand it one more moment, she clamped her eyes closed. Tears threatened, choking her throat. Even if her mystery man came to the table now, she no longer wanted to see him.

  The orchestra came to life with a flourish of trumpets, saxophones, string bass, trombones, and high-hat cymbals, as forties-style, big-band music filled the room, swirling and pumping, silencing the crowd. Then, just as suddenly the tune slowed, the trumpets lifted mutes, and the mood shifted to a moody blues beat. The music swelled again, and the trumpets rose to a crescendo as the piano player tinkled a frantic scale up the keyboard.

  “This night I sing… You listen…” flowed the golden voice of a man.

  Something about those words jarred Gloria from her funk, and she opened one eye, then the other.

  “Never in my most reckless dreams…” crooned the voice, raising the hair on the back of Gloria’s neck. “…could I have hoped for this…” The man’s voice rose higher. “Like a river flowing to the sea…”

  Sure now that the words came from the letter’s hidden under her pillow, Gloria’s head came up, hardly daring to look toward the stage. But to her surprise, the man singing the strange song was familiar. He was tall and athletic, gorgeous, with a cleft chin and a wave of gleaming hair glossed up from his forehead, nineteen-forties style. He wore a vintage-style, tailed, black tuxedo, complete with a bowtie, and in one hand he held the director’s baton.

  She made eye contact with him, and he winked at her as he sang “… some things are meant to be…”

  Unsure what was happening, Gloria stared, stupefied, at Ned as he sang. With questions in her eyes and her heart pounding, she watched the man she thought she knew, swaying with the beat, tapping out a rhythm to the orchestra behind him.

  A saxophone player stood to pump out a moody solo. Ned placed his baton on the podium, then stepped around it and headed down the steps of the stage. To Gloria’s horror and delight, he headed directly toward her, his smile bright and his hand reaching out to her.

  She glanced toward Marjory, who nodded and motioned for her to join Ned, so she stood, her knees shaking, as he came to her. With a grin, he swept her up into his arms. Before she could catch her breath, he twirled her out onto the dance floor as a trombone took over the solo on stage.

  The crowd went crazy as the couple danced in loops past them, the clapping and cheering deafening.

  Gloria wasn’t much of a dancer, but it didn’t seem to matter. With her eyes caught up in Ned’s, wondering what on earth was happening to her, he led her around the floor, leaving her no option but to keep up. The piano took the next solo, then a trumpet, building to another crescendo, and at the peak, Ned leaned her back into a dip. When she came up, the music slowed, and Ned pulled her close to his chest, wrapping one arm behind her back and his other hand holding hers, to lead her, once again, around the floor.

  “What’s happening?” she gasped into his ear, drowning in the music and excitement.

  “The secret is out,” he called over the din. “I w-won’t have to write you any more letters.”

  “You?” she cried, leaning back to stare at him. “How? Why?” Her eyes darted to where Marjory stood talking to another tuxedo-clad man. “What about Marjory?” she asked.

  “Marjory and her husband own the club,” he said, twirling them around for another loop of the floor. “She’s b-been helping me plan this for over a week, and when you spotted us at lunch, I was sure the s-surprise was ruined.”

  “The surprise,” she murmured, but he let go of her to spin her out to arm’s length. She only had time to catch a quick breath, then he reeled her in, bringing her back to his chest for another whirl around the room.

  Gloria’s mind spun, sure, that if she could only stop for a moment, she could make sense of what was happening. Had Ned written the letters? He’d been the one on the porch that first night? What about his stutter?

  He dropped her into another dip, and she blinked up at his handsome face.

  Not that the stutter mattered, it had just thrown her off, that was all. Obviously, Ned had a giant streak of suave sophistication he hid from everyone back home.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Ned said, swinging her to the edge of the floor and dropping her back into her chair. He ran up the steps of the stage with long-legged grace, arriving just in time to end the song. The crowd roared with applause.

  Gloria gripped the edge of the chair, her chest heaving under the glittering necklace. It had been Ned all along. Ned, who’d given her something to think about at the pageant practices. Ned, making her search for who the letter writer may be. Ned, whose letters she kept under her pillow, filled with musical quotes. Ned, her best friend, who made her laugh. It had always been Ned.r />
  Stepping up to the mic, he grinned, his eyes flashing as he soaked up the applause, radiating charm, glamour and talent. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he beamed, in a singsong tone. “The After Dark Orchestra!” He stepped to one side, his arm out toward the band.

  More applause shook the rafters as the crowd showed their appreciation, and this time Gloria joined in. She was still spinning in a sea of confusion, but things were beginning to come into focus. The music on Ned’s coffee table, singing with the children, the song references, how he disappeared every other weekend.

  The orchestra began again, churning out a medley of old-fashioned Christmas carols, the beat drawing people from their chairs. As the crowd poured onto the floor, Gloria saw old couples, young professional-grade dancers, and middle-aged couples, all smiling, with joy in their eyes, spinning in patterns across the red and green lit floor.

  Ned swept up to her side, and she stood, her eyes glowing.

  “Have I mentioned that you l-look lovely this evening?” he asked, bowing.

  Embarrassed, she swatted at him with her purse. “You did all this—” she started, but he straightened and swept her into his embrace, swirling her out onto the dance floor. This time the beat was slower, and she could see the other dancers, the lights, the decorations; all of them embodying Christmas spirit that pumped through the room.

  Meeting Ned’s eye, she fell headlong into the love she found there. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Anything for y—you, my dear,” he crooned in her ear as he pulled her closer, leading her through the throng of dancers.

  * * *

  The clock over the bar in the Limo read three thirty-seven a.m. when the car turned to head up the drive toward Gloria’s house. Bumping over the ruts, Ned’s head bobbed forward, waking him up. Confused, he looked down to see Gloria tucked against his side. Her bun was askew, and her mouth was open in her sleep, causing him to grin. He didn’t think she could possibly be any lovelier.