“I’ll see what I can do.” He walked his athletic frame around his desk and shook her hand, clasping her elbow with his other. “Sorry I almost let you go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Beth’s cheeks started to hurt from her gigantic grin. “I’ll take the job in marketing.”
Luke released her hand but remained close. “Like I said, I was a fool not to realize how good you are with people. In fact, I want to thank you again for introducing me to Amy. She’s so beautiful and cheerful and fun. Can you keep a secret?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I’m going to propose to her this weekend.” Now his cheeks probably hurt, too.
“Congratulations!” This would be the fifth marriage she’d helped create. She knew Luke and Amy would be running partners for life, but Beth realized she needed to be more cautious when matchmaking co-workers in the future.
After she chatting a bit more, she walked slowly from Luke’s office to Drew’s while acid collected in her gut. Her knuckles rapped on his open door.
His rust-colored head turned around and his face lit up. He had no idea what was coming.
She softly clicked the door shut behind her. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the door while he remained seated at his desk. A picture of the Starship Enterprise sailed across his computer screen. This was where it had all begun for them. Nostalgia tugged at her resolve.
“I’m going to miss working with you,” he said.
“No, you won’t. Luke just offered me a job in marketing.” Her heart lifted a bit with the thought. She took a deep breath. Face-to-face was so much harder than on the phone. “I’m afraid you’re going to miss living with me, though.”
“What?” He stood. “I thought everything was good between us.”
His blue striped tie caught her eye. She pulled the velvet box out of her purse. “I bought you this because I was going to propose.”
Furrowing his brow, he tugged on his ear. “You what?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she looked at the box in her hand. “Pathetic, I know. I never should’ve moved in with you. I never should’ve allowed myself to grow so attached to Emma.”
“Are you leaving because of Missy? Did she say something stupid? She’s always telling Emma that you aren’t her real aunt, but don’t listen to her.”
Beth’s blood raced through her veins. “Missy definitely has something to do with it. I can’t live with her. She’s your sister and I get that. But I want to make my own life, my own family.” She was tired of keeping a mental list of all her disappointments: the dirty dishes, the wrinkled laundry, the never-finished house renovations. If she were happier, she wouldn’t dwell on his shortcomings so much.
She waved the diamond tie tack in front of him. “I’m taking this to the jewelry store and getting a refund.”
“Do you need money? Is it because of the lawsuit?”
She shook her head. So much had happened in the past week. Everything had changed and he hadn’t a clue. “It’s because I don’t want to be pathetic anymore. As long as I’m with you, I’m pathetic.” She sighed. “I hope we can remain. . .” What was the word? Cordial? For lack of a better term, she said, “Friends. Especially since we’ll still see each other here.” Her hands gestured to indicate the Healthy Habits building.
His mouth turned down. He blinked. “Are you sure you want to break up?”
She shoved the velvet box into her purse. “Yes.” Awkwardly, she moved in for a final hug. “Good bye.” She knew she’d miss him and Emma and the Victorian that had temporarily become her home. But deep down, this felt right.
# # #
Saturday morning Beth woke up in a funk. Glancing at the calendar, she saw that it was December sixth. Something about the date caused it to circle around in her mind. December sixth. December sixth.
Downstairs she could hear the kids laughing and Sarah banging around in the kitchen. Fortunately, this time when Beth had needed her, her friend had answered the door. Beth had moved into the guest bedroom and insisted on paying rent until she found her own place. Fortunately, Sarah had started putting ads on her website and reported earning more than enough to cover the Visa bill.
Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her nearby purse. Unknown cell phone number. “Hello?”
“Happy Saint Niklaas Day!” Parker’s friendly voice greeted her.
That’s what today was. “Same to you.” Outside her door, she could hear the family dog barking. She turned the handle to let the terrier mix in. As she did, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted her. She forced herself to ignore the beckoning scent since this was the first time she’d spoken with Parker since Dallas. “How did Hannah’s test go?”
“Fine, I guess. It takes a while to get the results.” He paused. “I wanted to tell you that Ivy and I are getting a divorce. I moved into the house I grew up in.”
She sat on the floor and petted the dog with her free hand. “In Mishawaka?”
“That’s right.” He sounded pleased that she’d remembered his hometown.
“I want to say I’m sorry about you and Ivy, but--”
“But you only need to apologize for things that are your fault.” He chuckled. “Ironically, I want to apologize for the way Hannah treated you.”
“No. I understand. It hurts like hell.” She rubbed the mutt’s back and he wagged his tail gleefully. “But I chose to give her away and you didn’t. She’s rejecting me the way she feels I rejected her.”
“You are a kind, compassionate person. Tell me you don’t believe that.”
She shrugged to herself and glanced at the checkered drapes filtering the morning light. “I got to meet her. I know I placed her in a good home. I need to be satisfied with that.” Although she’d never stop hoping that she and Hannah would grow closer. In fact, Luke had said the company might fly Hannah to headquarters to discuss her designing the vitamin labels in person. Beth would keep her fingers crossed about that.
“Hannah will come around. She and I didn’t hit it off on our first visit either.”
Thinking about how he’d tried to give their daughter jewelry when she really wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift caused Beth to smile. “I’m glad you two are finding your way.” She decided to change topics. “Oh, I moved, too. I’m out of Drew’s house and am looking for my own place.”
“So you two couldn’t work things out?”
“No.” He’d always choose his sister over Beth. Maybe he knew that if Missy got her act together, it would benefit his niece. A pain chipped away at her heart. She missed Emma terribly. “I thought maybe we could reconcile, but. . . .”
“I know it hurts when a relationship ends. Even if it’s the right thing to do.” His voice trailed off. No doubt about it, he understood.
For a moment, no words passed between them. She petted the dog and tried to think of what to say. Finally, she panicked, worried Parker might hang up. “Did Saint Niklaas bring you chocolates or sticks?”
“Neither.”
“That’s what happens when you stop believing.” Just last week she’d seen Toblerones for sale at the grocery store near Sarah’s house and had thought of Parker.
“I guess.”
“What will you do today to celebrate?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s a Belgian holiday! Don’t you have family to visit?”
“No. My mom moved away and my grandparents have all passed. I’ll just hang out here and do some unpacking. I’m still settling in.”
“Well, tell me your new address.” Quickly she added, “In case I want to send you a Christmas card.” Not that she’d probably send cards this year. She’d been hoping to announce her engagement and include a photo of her and Drew, but now she couldn’t. She didn’t want to tell people about her reunion with Hannah, either.
While he rattled off the street numbers, she located a pen and paper on the nearby desk and wrote them down. 1507 Main Street. They had a few more minutes of surface-level chi
tchat before he decided to let her go.
After she hung up, she plopped back in bed to stare at a water stain on the ceiling. The dog pushed his head under her dangling arm, causing her to smile and pat him some more. Downstairs she heard the laughter of Sarah’s family. She might not be wealthy, but her friend was definitely rich.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Parker opened another cardboard box to find books. Books on leadership, investing money and suicide. While staring at the Choosing Your Own Way Out paperback, he felt his hands tremble slightly. He willed them to stop, but they didn’t.
Did he still want to kill himself?
A picture of Hannah and her big brown eyes flashed in his mind. She had asked his opinion about graduating high school early if she had Huntington’s. (He’d suggested she stay—no need to rush the things you could never do again). She’d kissed him on his cheek, like Belgians do, when he left, asking if she could visit him in Indiana sometime. (Most definitely!) She’d invited him to her house for Christmas. (It would be his pleasure.)
He had a daughter and he was getting a divorce. He finally knew the truth about Ivy’s first pregnancy and he was dying.
A tear formed in the corner of his eye. He quickly wiped it away. Grown men didn’t cry.
He gathered up the three books on suicide and tossed them into the brick fireplace. Taking a match out of the box on the mantel, he lit the papers on fire. After all, he might have several good years left. Years he could spend with Hannah. And who knew what kind of medical progress might be made in that time?
Smoke billowed in, reminding him to open the chimney flue. After he pushed the lever, he stood there and watched the orange-yellow flames. The fire burned out too quickly. He went outside to the woodpile and gathered up some kindling and logs. One of his favorite memories from this house was sitting by the fire toasting marshmallows or reading National Geographic. His and Ivy’s upscale house only had a gas fireplace. But nothing soothed him more than the comforting scent of a real wood-burning fire.
After arranging the small twigs into a teepee-like structure, he struck another match. He inhaled the wonderful aroma and smiled.
His ringing cell phone ruined the moment. With a sigh, he answered his VP’s questions, then hit his second-in-command with the idea he’d been kicking around since yesterday. “I’m officially stepping down as President of Mall Land. I’m going to head up a new education committee, where we’ll offer kids internships and college scholarships.” That would give his work more purpose. “I want you to take over the day-to-day operations.”
“Are you sure?” His voice jittered as if he were anxious. “This is a big decision.”
“I know. I’m trying to focus on others for a change. I’ll let you worry about debits and credits.”
“Is everything all right? What happened in Texas?”
“I found my soul.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I trust you’ll do a kick-ass job.”
“Thanks, but. . .” His colleague stumbled over his words some more before accepting the offer. When Parker hung up, he felt a weight removed from his shoulders. He flipped on the radio and started unpacking to the reggae beat of Sugar Ray’s “When it’s Over.”
A little while later, the doorbell rang and he froze. No one ever visited him here. Perhaps it was a little girl selling Scout cookies. Patting the back pocket of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet, he made his way to the front door. Peanut butter patties were his favorite.
He pulled the oak door toward him and his mouth gaped open. A beautiful, blue-eyed woman with freckles smiled up at him. A natural beauty. Somehow she was the one person who could render him speechless.
Bethany waved a triangular Toblerone package in front of his face. “May I come in? I’ve brought chocolate.” Her pitch rose in teasing.
“Of course.” He stepped back and welcomed her inside.
“Sorry to drop by unannounced, but. . . .”
“No need to apologize.”
“Oh!” She covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s right. Only apologize for things that are your fault. Wait, this is my fault.”
They both laughed. “Don’t apologize when you surprise someone with chocolate. If anyone should apologize, it’s me for this mess. I’m still moving in.” Suddenly he felt self-conscious of his casual appearance. He rubbed the stubble on his cheek. The husky-voiced radio d.j. announced she was playing the top songs from the turn of the millennium. The good ole days.
“The place looks great. You look great.” Beth blushed and he adored her for it. She was a sweet, intelligent woman who didn’t care about material things. She’d probably be as content living in this little 1200 square foot cottage as she would in his mansion on the beach.
Whoa! He was getting ahead of himself. What made him think that Beth would ever live with him?
# # #
Beth shoved her free hand in the front pocket of her coat as she stood in Parker’s small living room. Unshaven and dressed in a red-checked flannel shirt, he looked ruggedly handsome. Like a lumberjack.
This was crazy. He was a hunk, always had been, and she was a silly woman still harboring a schoolgirl crush. She needed to set her sights lower. Or forget about men and try to find contentment alone. Maybe she should get a cat. “Can I help you unpack?”
“No thanks.” He stepped behind her to remove her coat.
Such a gentleman! It was the little things, wasn’t it? The little things that made you care about someone.
A fire crackled and filled the room with a wonderful, warm scent.
Opening his foyer closet, he revealed an empty wooden rod. “Hmm. Haven’t unpacked the hangers yet.” He placed her coat over the back of his worn leather sofa. “Sit down. Give me half of that Toblerone and tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“You can have all of it.” God knew her body would instantly convert those calories into fat. She handed the candy bar to him.
“What if you knew today was your last day on earth? Would you regret not eating this?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Of course. But I can’t indulge myself like that. You’ve seen what I look like when I eat whatever I want and it’s not pretty.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh.
He took it out of the cardboard package and broke the foiled triangle stick in half. “That’s not true. You’ve always been pretty.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she took solace in the fact that he flushed, too. She refused to accept the temptation. “I gained two pounds from those waffles with whipped cream I let you talk me into eating on the trip.”
“I like a woman with curves. Besides, wouldn’t life be better if you allowed yourself a little chocolate? You need to balance planning for tomorrow with enjoying what today has to offer.” His arm stretched toward her with the treat.
That Lee Ann Womack song “I Hope you Dance” started playing on the radio. The notes and lyrics always touched her soul. “I love this song.”
Beth realized she was tired of working hard without any rewards. She was tired of delaying gratification. Licking her lips, she stared at the tiny chocolate row of mountains. “You’re right. I should treat myself every once in a while.” That was the trick, though. Only a little sugar in an otherwise healthy diet.
She leaned forward to take the sweet from him, but he pulled it back out of her reach.
He placed it on a nearby box and put his palm flat. “Dance with me first.”
A nervous giggle escaped her throat. “Why?”
“Because you can’t listen to these lyrics and sit on your butt. You must dance. It’s a given.”
Cocking her head, she studied him. “Are you serious?”
“You still owe me a dance from the reunion. You hurt your leg and I. . . Well, I ruined everyone’s good time by announcing I have Huntington’s.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Come on. The song’s almost over. We’re missing out.”
At that, she placed her hand in h
is and allowed him to pull her into his arms. He held her close, warming her back with one hand and the other clasping her palm. She was slow dancing with Parker! This was too good to be true.
Her foot brushed against an open box on the floor. She looked at the boxes and books stacked around the room, the orange flames in the brick fireplace and then at Parker’s brown eyes. Miniature flames danced in their reflection.
She and Parker exchanged smiles.
Finally, she was no longer a wallflower. The only way this moment could improve would be if he leaned down and kissed her. She inhaled the soft spices of his cologne. Her heart started pumping blood even faster. Quickly, she averted her gaze. She’d hate for him to see the desperate look in her eyes. They’d slept next to each other in a hotel twice on their trip and he’d never made a move. He clearly wasn’t interested.
The violins faded out as the song ended. She wasn’t ready for their one and only dance in sixteen years to be over. She wanted to close her eyes and lean her head against his chest. She wanted to savor the gentle pressure of his palm against the small of her back. This needed to last.
He kept swaying a moment after the song gave way to a commercial. It was as if he didn’t want to let her go, either. She dared steal another peek at his seductive eyes. He had those endearing crinkles at the edges, like an aging movie star. Her breaths became labored. God, why wouldn’t he just do it?
He dropped her hand and stepped back.
Oh, no!
It was now or never. She sucked in some air, stood on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. Electricity zapped through her nerve endings.
Maybe she’d just ruined things, but she’d always have this kiss. She could lie in bed at night, remembering their romantic dance and the thrill of one stolen kiss.
When he didn’t respond, she dropped down onto her heels.
He stared at her. It was terrible. It was awkward.
She bit her lower lip. “Um, sorry about that.” She looked for her purse on the couch. It’d gotten lost behind her bulky coat. “I’d better go.”
A Weekend Getaway Page 26
