The shop was bustling when I entered and I nodded to Paula, the proprietor. I located a small table not far from the cash register and set my bag on the table to reserve my spot, before heading to the back room.
Romances were kept in the far back of the store, in a large room, just for them. I’d discovered many a new author in here, but I wasn’t on a quest for someone new today. I made my way to the C’s and nearly keeled over when I saw them. There they were, two of each of the books I was missing from my collection. I grabbed them off the shelf and made my way back to the table. Satisfied, I ordered a chamomile tea and chocolate scone. This was going to be a fine Saturday indeed.
I sipped from the stoneware cup and read from my book when deep laughter drew my attention. A door to the meeting room on my left was open and I could have sworn I heard Colin’s laughter. It wasn’t possible. Why in the world would he be here? He was simply on my mind because of our conversation yesterday.
Laughter boomed again, and I leaned forward to peer into the room. It was him. He sat at a long table with five women. They each had a stack of paper in front of them and Colin was in the process of putting his in a backpack. What was he up to? Who were those women? And since when did he laugh so loud? I had only heard him chuckle before now.
He swung the backpack over his shoulder and turned toward the door. I quickly buried my nose in the cup and brought the book up in front of my face. I forced myself to keep my eyes on the pages of the book, even though it was impossible to concentrate on the words before me.
“Is this seat taken?”
That was a question and a voice I could not ignore. I looked up into the laughing green eyes of Colin. “Be my guest.” I gestured to the empty seat.
He hung his backpack on the chair and signaled for Paula. “English Breakfast tea and a blueberry scone, please.”
She winked and sashayed away. I had never seen Paula sashay in my life, but perhaps if I were waiting on Colin, I would be doing so as well.
“I see you found the two books you were looking for.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How could you possible know these were the ones I was looking for?”
He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
Paula sat his order on the table and walked away. Colin leaned forward and studied me. “You’re going to read all weekend?”
“Of course not,” I said defensively. I have piles of laundry to do, too. My life was pathetic, but it was what it was. I stopped making excuses for the lack of adventure in my life long ago. Maybe it was time I bought a cat or two to complete the cliché of my life.
He leaned back in his chair and sipped from the steaming mug. “Tell me, what is it that you like so well about those novels?”
I eyed him with suspicion, but answered anyway. “Historicals have always been my favorite. There is something about the era, the clothing, the manners, the gentlemen…” I sighed.
His grin widened. “There’s a Jane Austen festival next weekend.”
I had always wanted to attend, but I could never find anyone who wanted to go with me.
“Would you care to go?”
Was Colin Parker asking me out? My heart skipped a beat. “I’ve never been to a Jane Austen festival before.”
“Well, you will drink tea.” He toasted me. “Play charades, try whist and learn to dance from a dancing master.”
The evening sounded exciting and fit right in with my reading material. And my developing fantasies about Colin Parker. Yet, my mind couldn’t grasp the idea that Colin Parker was asking me to a Regency Party. Didn’t most men need to be forced to go to these things? Wasn’t it always the woman’s idea and the man trailed along reluctantly?
“Of course, you need to be in costume.”
All joy fled. Where on earth would I get a regency gown in a week’s time? And even if there was one about, it would probably cost a pretty penny. “I don’t have a gown.”
He dismissed the problem with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure George can come up with something.”
“George?” I tilted my head, unable to follow him.
“Yes, of the Costuming House.”
Now I knew I couldn’t afford this little outing. The Costuming House had some of the most exquisite and elaborate costumes you could find, but they also came with a hefty price tag. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to attend, but thank you for asking.”
He leaned forward and his green eyes bore into mine. “Please. Don’t make me go alone. A single man is required to ask all of the wallflowers to dance. With you on my arm, I would be spared.”
“Wallflowers?” I choked. It was such a Regency thing to say. Colin really did know this era.
“Though we can’t waltz more than twice or your reputation will be ruined.” He winked at me. Actually winked. My heart fluttered. How could he possibly know about the dancing rules from that era?
“And yours will remain in tact. A gentleman is forgiven anything.” I laughed.
“Almost,” he corrected with a chuckle.
I weighed the options. I did have some money set aside in savings. The only time I ever splurged was for books. I could dip into my coveted funds for the enjoyment of one night. What was the point in saving if I never left my house except to go to the bookstore or work? “All right, I’ll go.”
His grin widened. “As soon as we’re done, let’s go see George to see what he has on hand.”
True to his word, Colin took me to George’s. The costume was ordered and set to be picked up the following Saturday. Colin also ordered his own, but remained mum on what it entailed. I knew nothing except I was to be dressed as if we were attending a ball in 1815, in celebration of the Waterloo Victory.
*
The week turned out to be one of the longest of my life as I waited for Friday to arrive. Colin sat with me at lunch each day and even though he always brought his tax magazine, he never opened it. Instead we talked about everything from movies to the weather. On Wednesday he asked me to dinner and then regaled me with stories of his college days over fondue and white wine. On Thursday we enjoyed the warm weather and strolled the park after work. On Friday, he took me to dinner and I skipped my regular happy hour. And each day I fell a little further for this CPA.
I was up early on Saturday, unable to contain my excitement for the evening ahead. But with so many hours to go until Colin would pick me up, I decided to head for the Tea Room to distract myself.
As I sat reading, with my cup of chamomile tea, I heard something that made the blood in my veins turn green with envy.
“Oh, Colin, you are too wonderful!”
I could lie to myself and say I had forgotten he’d been here last Saturday, but part of me hoped I would run into him. Now I wished I’d stayed home.
The woman who had praised him rose up on her tiptoes and snaked her arms around Colin’s neck before she drew his head down and placed her lips against his cheek. He pulled her into a hug. My heart stopped.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I hastily brushed them away. I was a fool to think there could ever be anything between Colin and me. We barely knew each other, and just because he asked me to the festival didn’t mean we were an exclusive couple. Or a couple at all, for that matter.
I tried to down my tea and pack up the books I planned to purchase before he noticed I was there. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough.
“Erica, I’m so glad you’re here.”
He did sound generally pleased, but I quickly squelched the false hope his tone inspired.
“This is her? This is Erica?” Colin’s friend—girlfriend, whatever she was—asked.
“Erica, I would like you to meet Jenny, a friend of mine.”
I wanted to blurt out that I saw their embrace and was well aware of what kind of friend she was, but I held my tongue while I contemplated how I could get out of this evening’s commitment. To hell with the cost of the dress. I would consider it a lesson learned. Men were all pigs.
“I compl
etely understand now,” Jenny gushed to Colin before she turned to me. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Erica. You’ll get to meet my husband Steve tonight too.”
Steve? She was married? What was she doing hanging all over Colin then?
She turned toward him and hugged him once again. “Thank you again. I’m sure your donation will bring a lot of bids for the research.”
Donation? Research? God, when had I become so paranoid to think an innocent hug meant a torrid affair? I answered the question before I even finished the thought. I stopped trusting when I caught Neil cheating on me with a former coworker.
“Well, see you tonight.” Jenny gave a quick wave and then ran out the door.
Colin picked the books up off the table. His brow furrowed in concern. “You’re not going to finish the series?”
A smile broke out on my lips and I felt ten times the fool for worrying about Jenny. Their body language spoke of friendship, nothing more. Yet, I wasn’t so sure what the body language between Colin and I spoke of. “Oh, I’ll finish those first. I just have to get the next five or six lined up.”
“Five or six?” Both eyebrows shot up.
“I learned my lesson last January, when we were hit with that snowstorm. I only had one book to read in a house that was without power for two days. I refuse to be put in that predicament again.”
*
I could not take my eyes off of Colin. Even worse, I couldn’t keep the drool in my mouth. He stood before me wearing a dark, short frock coat over a waistcoat trimmed in ribbon, and matching breeches with top boots. He carried kid gloves, a walking stick and a beaver top hat. His emerald eyes sparkled with humor when he bowed over my gloved hand.
I tried not to giggle as he moved into the bright light of my living room and took both of my hands in his. I was pleased by the slow smile that came to his lips as he turned me this way and that to admire my ensemble. I couldn’t remember wearing anything so elegant in my life and felt every bit the princess. George even provided a small tiara to compliment the curls my hairdresser accomplished this afternoon. I had decided that since I was attending the ball in costume, my hair must be period as well.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered and leaned forward to brush his lips against mine.
It was so unexpected I wasn’t sure how to react. Luckily he didn’t notice. Instead, he picked up the Paisley shawl that accompanied the dress and draped it across my shoulders before handing me the fan that I left on the table.
“Do you mind if we stop by my apartment before we go onto the ball?” he asked as he escorted me to the front door.
For a moment I panicked. But curiosity won out—I kind of wanted to see where he lived. “I don’t mind.”
He drove less than five minutes from my apartment. Secretly I was happy to have him so close. Hopefully there would be reasons to visit each other in the future.
He escorted me up to his apartment and ushered me inside.
“Oh! My! Gosh! This is her, isn’t it?”
I turned to the voice that came from the couch. A girl of around fifteen sat up on her heels and studied me from head to toe. I wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction to me, or at least the wide grin on her face. Who was this young woman? She was too old to be Colin’s daughter. Perhaps she was a sister.
“You’re right, Uncle Colin. She’s perfect.”
I turned to look at him, wondering what this girl—apparently his niece—was talking about. His face was red. Not just slightly pink with embarrassment, but red as a beet. I was a little embarrassed myself. No one had ever called me perfect before.
“I have a confession.” He took my hand and led me down the hall to a study. Inside the room was a computer, papers everywhere, paperback books—all romances—research books and posters of each Leigh Carlton book cover. “You are Leigh Carlton?”
He glanced around the room, unable to look me in the eye. “Yes and no.”
“It has to be one or the other.” I couldn’t believe I was in the home of one of my favorite authors. I couldn’t believe I had been kissed by one of my favorite authors. I briefly wondered how many romance novelists were secretly men. It had never even occurred to me before.
“The original Leigh Carlton was my sister.”
I turned to him, confused.
“She became my guardian when our parents died. I was fifteen. Four years ago she passed away and I became the guardian of her daughter, Sadie, who greeted you when we came in.”
“I’m so sorry. Both of you to have lost your parents at such a young age.”
“We’ve both gotten on. Sadie’s father was never around and we didn’t see the reason to force fatherhood on him now, so I did for my sister what she did for me, and have not once regretted it.”
Tears formed in my eyes at his sacrifice. Not many people would offer to raise a niece or nephew, or especially a teenage girl.
“Leigh had finished two of the novels and the third was in the proof stages. She had a contract for more.”
“The company forced you to honor it?”
“No.” He laughed. “I had helped Lee with her stories and she had already outlined the entire series, so I gave a try at writing one when we lost her. Turns out I really enjoy it.”
“Which ones are yours?” A grin pulled at my lips.
“Four and the rest.”
“Now I really can’t wait to read them.”
Color stained his cheeks again. “That wasn’t the confession.”
I waited silently, but the butterflies in my stomach beat around frantically.
“At first it was hard to write, to come up with characters, or the motivation.”
“It seems you recovered,” I offered.
“Yes, but not without the help of a muse.”
“Aren’t those some form of mythical creature,” I ventured.
He laughed. “They are supposed to be, but my muse is flesh and blood.” He took a step forward and grasped both of my hands. “All of my problems came to an end the first time I saw you in the elevator at work.
It took a moment for it to settle in, but when it did, my jaw dropped open of its own accord.
“I’m your muse?”
“I took whatever chance I could to see you, study you, be around you. When it wasn’t enough, I finally had to join you for lunch. You are the lady in my novels. All of them. One has your mannerisms, one has your eyes, another has your hair. This list goes on and on.”
I was dumbfounded. “There’s a part of me in every heroine?”
He smiled and looked deep into my eyes. “Yes. I can’t write her if you’re not a part of her.” He bent forward and pressed his lips to mine. I sighed and leaned into him. This whole time I’d been craving the hottie from accounting, and he’d been using me as his muse to create the characters I loved. At least I knew we’d all get our happily ever after.
THE END
***
A Grand Beginning
Aileen Fish
The baby grand piano sat unnoticed in the atrium at the Paramount Villa retirement community where I lived. Some evenings a few people sat in the comfortable chairs beside it and visited amongst themselves, but the piano only served a purpose several times a year at special events.
Until Ed Grimway moved in.
One Tuesday evening, after supper, he sat down at the baby grand and began playing a medley of show tunes. At first the sound was a welcome backdrop to my reading, but soon I was singing along under my breath. Oh, how many years it had been since I sang anywhere but the church choir. And how much my voice had changed! But no one complained. I felt lighter, happier, by the time Ed stopped playing.
I didn’t see him again until the next Tuesday, when my singing voice grew stronger as my confidence increased. After the second song, he glanced my way before starting another. “We make beautiful music together.”
I laughed at the corny line. “You and the piano make beautiful music. I can’t help myself. My sisters
and I used to sing along with the radio.”
“Music transports us, doesn’t it?” He spread his long, slender fingers and struck a few chords. “When I play this, I’m sixteen again dancing in the school auditorium.”
My feet twitched at the familiar rhythm. “It’s like a magical spell.” I sang along through the variety of songs until he closed the keyboard cover and stood.
With a nod to all of us seated nearby, he said, “Goodnight.”
One afternoon a few days later, while knitting with my neighbor, Grace, my thoughts drifted to Ed and I mentioned him. “Have you met him? I never see him around. Only on Tuesday nights, when he comes down to play.”
Grace paused in her crochet work. “He seems rather young for assisted living. Maybe he cooks for himself, so he doesn’t come downstairs to eat. Martin Kimble is like that, you know. I only see him the church service on Sunday.”
“I wonder if he plays cards. Maybe he doesn’t know about Game Night. Or the trips to the movies.” Telling myself it was just neighborly curiosity, I decided to get to know him.
The next Tuesday, I tamed her bottle-red curls with a brush before heading down after supper, and boldly sat beside him at the piano. The light from the chandelier danced across his silver hair. He had more smile lines than frown ones, which said good things about his disposition. I met his eye and asked, “What are we playing tonight?”
“Maybe…” His fingers began a Cole Porter tune.
I jumped right in. Cole Porter blended into Rosemary Clooney and I followed with ease. Even when he moved on to the music closer to our time, Rogers and Hammerstein or The Carpenters, I knew all the songs. As if we’d practiced for years, we made music together without a sour note. When he stood to leave, I followed.
“You play very well,” I said, waiting for the elevator.
“Thank you.” It seemed for a moment he wouldn’t say more, but his blue eyes softened and he smiled. “My wife and I played at a small club for many years. Her voice was low and rich like yours. We only performed on Tuesday nights, when the regular musicians were off, but it became a huge part of our lives.”
Love Everlasting Page 9
