Old Fashioned

by Rene Gutteridge

  “Wow, these are . . .”

  “Yours.” Gloria smiled.

  “Mine? But these are—”

  “Extravagant?”

  “Very.”

  Gloria only winked and sent her on her way. Back in the Rolls-Royce, George continued to drive, three blocks this time. He stopped in front of the flower shop but didn’t get out.

  Carol bolted out the door so fast that Amber wondered if something was on fire. But at the excited look on Carol’s face and the bouquet carefully cradled in her arm, Amber couldn’t help but grin.

  She rolled her window down with a slight squeak that made George frown. The smell was intoxicating. “Irises,” Amber said, closing her eyes.

  “Especially for you. Courtesy of Mr. Clay Walsh.”

  Amber looked suspiciously at her. “Carol, that’s the first time I’ve heard you say his name without it sounding like a cussword.”

  “He’s still weird. But apparently in a very romantic way.” Suddenly Carol’s eyes diverted to George, and she was grinning just like Amber.

  George had turned in his seat, charm oozing from any orifice it could squeeze out of. “You like this face or what?” he asked.

  Amber gently cleared her throat. She was getting antsy to see this romantic Clay Walsh, the one who’d embraced color and impulsive spending.

  “Yes, ma’am,” George said with a gentleman’s flair, but it was unclear who he was talking to. Amber and Carol were both smiling.

  “See you soon, darlin’,” Carol said as she stepped back and waved.

  Rolling up the window again with another little squeak, Amber held the flowers close, stroking their petals and letting the scent envelop her.

  George watched her in the rearview mirror. “Hey. Carol. Great figure for a woman her age.”

  “George, we are going to have to work on your pickup lines.”

  “What does she like?” George asked, unfazed.

  “Chocolate.”

  “My middle name! You gotta put a good word in for me.”

  Amber laughed. “Well, this car is going to score you major points right off the bat.”

  George clutched his heart. “You know just how to make a man weak in the knees.”

  Then George drove her in silence, and it felt like Amber entered a dream. As the car zoomed toward its unknown destination, the last of the autumn leaves on the road scattered into the air, exploding in a breathtaking performance of colorful spins. She turned to watch them through the back window as they floated softly to the ground. The sun, bulbous and orange, was setting behind her, awash against the horizon.

  She had the fancy car, the perfect dress, the groomed nails, the gorgeous flowers, the striking earrings . . . She had it all, except the one thing that really mattered. She couldn’t wait to see him, though she had no idea what to expect. This was not the Clay she knew, but it was the one she always suspected was in there somewhere, locked away and hidden until he could make amends for his past. Yet that was the thing she was beginning to grasp. There wasn’t enough penance in her or him or whomever to make whole what all of them were capable of utterly shattering. So if it wasn’t penance, then what?

  Love.

  Above her, newly hung Christmas lights lined the street, reflecting through the window as she gazed at them. They rounded a corner and she felt the car slow. Then she saw the oddest thing: an antique traffic light sitting right in the middle of the grocery store’s empty parking lot—the grocery store where they’d shopped together.

  It was glowing. Not red. Not yellow. Green. The most inviting and luminescent green she’d ever seen.

  George stopped the car and opened the door. Amber stepped out in wonderment, staring at this traffic light, this emerald-green symbol. And signal, perhaps? It said so much standing there by itself in the dusk, greeting her, beckoning her. She looked at George, not even sure she could speak. George seemed to sense the depth of the moment, quietly observing the stoplight himself.

  Then he pulled something out of his pocket and held it up in front of her, displaying it like a great treasure. It was a necklace. Made of wagon wheel pasta.

  Amber laughed as George tenderly placed it around her neck. She touched it, shaking her head. She couldn’t even imagine what was coming next.

  With measured flair, George gestured toward the front door of the grocery store with a smile. “Have fun.”

  She took a careful step forward, but George said, “Oh. Take your shoes off.”

  Amber didn’t even hesitate. Yeah, she liked these shoes, but whatever was waiting in there for her, she was certain she would like it way more. She handed the shoes to George and continued on.

  At the front of the store, the automatic doors swished open, blowing her hair back. The grocery store was eerily dark but for a faint and distant glow. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed candles. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. They were tiny, like stars in a dark sky, flickering and winking. And they seemed to be her guide on a path. She took a few steps and began to feel sand under her toes. She wiggled them, keeping a slow pace. She didn’t want to miss a thing. Not one single moment.

  Ahead, a quartet, maybe a jazz band, started playing. She recognized the store manager playing the clarinet. The music reminded her of the record she’d put on the first time she walked into the Old Fashioned antique store, before she’d ever set eyes on Clay Walsh, when she was still running from a life that never seemed to settle for her.

  She kept walking, slowly, carefully, peeking down each aisle as she passed. But she couldn’t see him.

  And then, there he was, halfway down an aisle. Her breath caught in her throat. He was dressed in a suit, a tie, and . . . a fedora. Amber laughed and held her heart. He’d never looked so handsome. It was like a movie poster.

  Clay smiled at her and she just then noticed the grocery cart in front of him, overflowing with stacks of cased bottled water. Not neat stacks either. They looked like they’d been tossed in there, along with a few boxes of wagon wheel pasta.

  She started to walk toward him, unable to take her eyes off him, until something caught her eye.

  Baby food.

  They were on the baby food aisle? She wanted to take it all in—each part had so much meaning attached, it was like trying to swallow a steak whole.

  She looked at Clay, questioning, but those beautiful blue eyes beckoned her with a casual, strong confidence that she couldn’t have resisted if she’d tried.

  He took off his hat and smiled at her. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

  “Hey there, stress boy.”

  “I love you.”

  Amber blinked, her lashes wet with tears she didn’t realize were there. “Say it again,” she whispered.

  “I love you.”

  She glanced around. “The baby food aisle?”

  With a single finger, he nudged a jar out of alignment. She took a step closer to him and nudged it back into place.

  “A little on the nose?” he asked.

  “Very romantic. And I love you too.” She smiled. “Te amo! Te amo!”

  Clay reached into his pocket, where he normally stuffed his hands when he didn’t know what else to do with them. He pulled out a tiny, black velvet box and drew it open with nimble fingers, like she was watching a magician. And there, cushioned in white satin, was the most dazzling ring she’d ever seen. It wasn’t flashy. It was quite simple, in fact. An antique, of course.

  Amber looked into his eyes, her heart bursting. Her entire body started trembling and she squeezed her hands into balls and pressed them against her cheeks.

  Then Clay hitched up a pant leg and started to go down on one knee.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed.

  “You didn’t let me—”

  “Yes. Yes!” She pulled him up by the lapels. Close to her. Both of them swept into a moment like no other, entangled in each other’s arms.

  “It won’t be easy. . . .”

  She held out her hand, spreading her fingers. “Yes.”

/>   He slid the ring on her finger, making her skin dance at his touch. She threaded her fingers through his and looked down at their feet. There was no threshold. Just sand. So for good measure, she stepped closer until her toes rested on top of his black leather wingtips.

  For once, he didn’t look terrified. Just mesmerized. It was all that she’d wanted—to mesmerize him.

  He leaned in, their lips dangerously close. Was he going to actually kiss her? Was this a test? Amber looked into his eyes, barely able to think.

  He smiled at her in a way he never had before. She returned the smile, a little mischievously, and drew her lips closer to his—as close as they could be without touching.

  And then she turned her head and tapped her cheek.

  But suddenly his arms fully wrapped around her and she lost her breath. He pulled her body close to his, the way she’d always wanted him to, and cupped her face with his hand, turning her toward him. She saw it in those beautiful eyes—she meant everything to him.

  Never before and never since has there been a more purely passionate, innocently sexy, beautiful kiss on any girl’s cheek.

  The end beginning

  About the Authors

  RENE GUTTERIDGE is the award-winning and bestselling author of twenty-two novels, including her latest releases, Misery Loves Company (suspense), Greetings from the Flipside (comedy), and Heart of the Country (drama). Her recent suspense titles also include Listen, Possession, and Escapement. She has novelized six screenplays, including Old Fashioned. Never the Bride, a romantic comedy with screenwriter Cheryl McKay, won the Carol Award in 2010 for best women’s fiction.

  Rene’s indie film—the comedy Skid, based on her novel—is in postproduction and due to release in 2014. Rene is a creative consultant on Boo, a film based on her beloved novel series, which is in development at Sodium Entertainment with Cory Edwards attached as director and Andrea Nasfell as screenwriter. Rene is also a cowriter in a collaborative comedy project called The Last Resort with screenwriters Torry Martin and Marshal Younger.

  Find Rene on Facebook and Twitter or on her website, www.renegutteridge.com.

  RIK SWARTZWELDER is a writer-director-producer whose films have screened at more than 145 film festivals worldwide and garnered over 50 major awards, including a Crystal Heart Award (Heartland Film Festival) for his 35mm short The Least of These and a student Emmy for his highly acclaimed graduate thesis film, Paul McCall. Other accolades include two CINE Golden Eagles, a CINE Special Jury Award, four ITVA-DC Peer Awards, and the Sprint/PCS Filmmaker of the Future Award. He earned his MFA in motion picture production from Florida State University and is invited regularly to teach and speak on film, including the honor of an invite by the Heartland Film Festival (Indianapolis) to lead the very first workshop offered (“The Craft of Film Directing”) when they launched their Heartland Truly Moving Pictures Institute.

  Discussion Questions

  We know that Clay Walsh holds old-fashioned views about dating. Are there other areas of his life where he is old-fashioned? Do you see his views as good or bad ideas?

  As she drives into town, Amber says to her cat, “See how the road winds, and then off it goes, through the trees? You don’t really know what’s around the bend, see?” How do you approach a bend in the road? With fear? Excitement? Nonchalance?

  To an outsider, Brad, David, and Clay seem to have very little in common, yet they remain close friends. Why would they stay in relationship if they have grown so different from each other? Are there friendships that have endured in your life despite similar changes?

  Clay believes dating only trains people to be good dates in superficial relationships. Do you agree? What benefits do you see in the dating model of contemporary culture? What are some of the dangers or drawbacks?

  If you were in Amber’s position, what would you think of Clay’s relationship philosophies? Would you go along with his rules and “dating” process? Why or why not?

  Clay thinks of Amber as “just the opposite of who he’d always imagined might draw his attention,” and several characters throughout the story comment on how different Clay and Amber seem to be. In your experience, is it true that opposites attract? How much similarity do you think is necessary for a couple to be compatible?

  According to Clay, some of the boundaries that used to exist to protect us have been removed. Name some boundaries that you believe fall into this category.

  One of Clay’s customers tells him, “Well, if you’re going to leave a legacy, you can’t be merely an observer, son. You gotta get a little beat up, like this old rocker.” What does Bert mean by this? Have you lived as an observer, or have you been beaten up? Explain.

  Amber keeps a list of all she’s done to live a life of giving. What would be on your list? Or, if you wanted to start living that way today, what goals would appear on your list to create a life of giving?

  Betty from the diner says to Clay, “Marriage is kind of like a tea bag. You don’t know how strong it really is till you get it in some boiling water.” Have you seen any real-life examples to confirm this? What steps do you think can be taken to strengthen a marriage before the “boiling water” comes along?

  Amber and Clay come up with some unconventional activities for their dates. Which of these sounded the most fun to you? Which was the strangest? If you were to fill a shoe box with ideas for creative outings, what would be in it?

  On one of her dates with Clay, Amber finds herself longing for “the simple fun of being chased.” What’s the difference between being chased and being test-driven? What role do you think pursuit should play in establishing a romantic relationship?

  At one point, Clay fears he’ll never be free of the chains of his regrets and his past life. Have you ever struggled to be free of similar chains? What advice would you give to someone trying to be free of their past?

  Clay’s wise aunt Zella chides him to “Get over yourself. You and your pain.” Do you think this is good counsel? Why or why not? What does it mean to “be a good steward of your pain”?

  Disappointed by Clay’s reaction to her confession, Amber thinks, “He had been her goodness as recently as this morning. The only goodness she’d ever known. Slowly, she was making the separation—Clay wasn’t God.” Have you ever found yourself elevating another person too highly or expecting them to take the place of God in your life? How did you make the separation?

  Rene Gutteridge Interviews Rik Swartzwelder

  RENE: The latest statistics show that 1.89 billion people have a screenplay to pitch. How’d you beat the odds and get your movie made?

  RIK: That’s a question you get asked by other filmmakers quite a bit. Everyone wants to know how you pulled it off . . . that or the names and numbers of your investors. Here’s the thing: ask a hundred different directors with a finished film that question and you’ll get a hundred different answers. Personally, I’ve had films almost get made at least a dozen times over the years.

  Even with Old Fashioned, it almost got set up several times before things actually clicked and we got the green light. You really just have to keep moving forward, keep your head above water, keep believing in the impossible. Okay, confession time: I’m a huge Rocky fan (go ahead; mock me), and like he says, “It’s about . . . how much you can take and keep moving forward.” No one can answer that question but you.

  Outside of divine intervention, persistence and tenacity trump just about everything else in this business—in a lot of things in life. So staying alive long enough . . . that’s the trick. You have to fight the creative battle because you love it. Because you can do nothing else. Because it’s what God wired you to do. You may struggle for years and never see results. Or you might be an overnight success. We don’t often get to call those shots. Dream. Hope. Create. Let the chips fall where they may.

  All of that’s probably not the answer you or any aspiring filmmaker out there was hoping for, alas. I wish I could give a checklist or a point-by-point how-to that could gu
arantee results, but I can’t. All of our journeys are different. And there are many paths to success. What I can say, without question, is this: the impossible . . . isn’t.

  As writer, director, and lead actor in this film, did you ever get confused and start yelling, “Cut!” when you were supposed to be delivering your lines? Or are you pretty good at managing your split personalities?

  That’s funny. At least I can laugh about it now. During production however, it wasn’t easy; that’s a fact. There were certainly many times I wish I could have yelled at the director or the actor playing Clay.

  You put your finger on something that makes acting and directing in the same film such a tricky proposition—the hat of “actor” and the hat of “director” are very, very different, and managing those “split personalities” requires a good plan and the support of your creative team.

  The one thing we did that made it much more feasible was have a longer than usual (for an indie film) period of preproduction. We spent several months on the ground in Ohio and had things mapped out pretty well before any cameras started rolling; that made a big difference. Also, I had some key people, whose eyes I trust, help keep me from going off the rails, as they say. I’m grateful to have a lot of extremely talented and generous friends and cohorts.

  Some of where this film was shot has special meaning to you. Why was the location important to you, and what was the experience like filming in a place where so many people know you?

  Tuscarawas County, Ohio. I grew up there, and to this day, I consider it one of the most beautiful stretches of land in this country—especially in the autumn. Am I biased? Of course! But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

  The right locations can make all the difference in a movie—and even more so when you don’t have a lot of money to spend on building sets and art direction and all that good stuff. When your means are modest, it’s imperative that you find existing locations that are uniquely visual and alive and help tell your story without having to add much to what is already there. As much as I love that area, it wouldn’t be the perfect place to shoot every movie. However, it was the perfect place to shoot Old Fashioned. The stunning fall foliage, the town squares, classic Americana architecture, and variety of landscapes all lent themselves perfectly to what our story was about. Further, at an even deeper level, I knew that I had an emotional connection with the places and people there that would heighten my senses and, hopefully, provide a heightened sense of intimacy and immediacy to our film. I wasn’t disappointed in any way. Plus, I actually ended up seeing more of the area than I ever had growing up there, which was cool.