“That’s okay, I’ll track her down.” Ryan leaned down to kiss her cheek once more as he said, “It was good to see you. Enjoy your lunch. We’ll see you tonight at the dinner, right?”
“I’ll be there with bells on,” Lydia smiled. “Good to see you too. Enjoy the day, enjoy seeing everyone. Have a great time.”
“Thank you, I will. See you later.” He flashed one more friendly smile before turning to leave.
Lydia watched Ryan as he walked out. He was a nice guy, and a fairly handsome one; almost six feet tall, trim, with neatly cut light brown hair that was only beginning to recede, and pale blue eyes a few shades lighter than Melanie’s. From everything Melanie had told her about him: he was a patient man with a good sense of humor, someone constant and loyal, someone who had already been very good to Melanie over the three years they’d been together. He was certainly radiating happiness and contentment today, just as Melanie was. Lydia smiled softly to herself with genuine happiness for her friend. It would be a great wedding, but much more importantly, it would likely be a good marriage.
Hopefully, Lydia thought as an addendum. No one could ever possibly know how things would turn out in the long run, could they? She certainly hadn’t seen her life going the way it had when she and Matt got married. She’d thought they’d be together for the rest of their lives, like every other young, optimistic couple did.
Her mind unwittingly went back, flashing on her and Matt’s wedding day. It had been a picturesque Sunday in May; a large, fun wedding, filled with family, friends, music, drinks, dancing, good food, all the things that made a wedding memorable and wonderful. She had been so happy. She sighed now, wishing she could warn that younger version of herself that there was not always a happy ending, and to be prepared.
But here was Melanie, grabbing a second chance at happiness in marriage, taking another shot despite the debacle that had been her stormy first marriage.
Lydia sipped her water, deep in thought. Maybe, one day, far off in the future, there would be someone out there that would make her consider trying again. Someone who she could actually depend on, open herself up to, share her life with, to love and be loved by in return...
Naaah, she thought, cutting herself off. Nope. Not likely. Especially at the age of about-to-be-37, with a very cute but speech impaired three-year-old boy in tow. That’s some package.
Her eyes scanned the glorious trees outside. The walking trail led to thicker woods beyond them. She daydreamed about going for a long walk and getting lost in there, being alone in the middle of the quiet forest… lying down in a bed of fallen leaves, of all different shades, just staring peacefully up into the skies.
She smiled to herself. Being alone didn’t scare her. In fact, she wanted it. After living so miserably with Matt for so long, she’d actually been enjoying her freedom when she wasn’t stressed out or exhausted. She relished the idea of being alone, even if it was for a long time to come, and held on to her daydream of abandoning the world to lay down on the ground, look up at the sky, and just breathe.
* * *
Sam Forrester walked briskly through the lobby, exiting through one of the side doors that led to the grand stone terrace behind the main part of the Manor. He threw open the French doors and stepped outside, raising his face to the afternoon sun. He closed his eyes and inhaled the crisp, cool air as deeply as he could. A smile spread across his face. There was something uniquely magical and wondrous about New England in the fall.
He put on his sunglasses and tapped the book he’d brought to read against his leg, leisurely taking in his surroundings. He could hear birds singing and squawking, calling to one another, and the swishing of leaves caught in the breeze. The trees were incredible to take in, a commanding presence all their own. He gazed at them in appreciation, wishing he’d thought to bring a pad and pencil. It had been way, way too long since he’d just sat outside and sketched. This would have been an ideal place to do so.
He sighed with regret, but brushed it away as he crossed the large stone patio to the stone balcony to see what lay below. The ground was about fifteen feet beneath the terrace; a half-circle of stone steps led down to a short lawn, which expanded several feet beyond to a large manicured garden filled with leafy plants, colorful flowers, miniature trees, and a small but lovely fountain in the center, flanked by stone benches. The garden was empty except for a lone woman who sat on the bench on the west side of the fountain. Her head was down since she was reading a book, and the sun shone brilliantly off her hair, a medium length curtain of an unusual and radiant shade of copper.
Sam recognized the lustrous hair and knew she was the woman he’d briefly seen in the lobby that morning, when her suitcase had fallen over. Instead of cursing or getting uptight, she’d blushed and laughed it off. He’d been instantly charmed by that; most women he knew would have gotten upset. And he'd almost laughed out loud at the little red racecar that had shot across the lobby until he’d stopped it with his foot. Naturally, he’d gone over to help her pick up the suitcase.
She’d smiled such an open smile at him and had such a friendly demeanor that he’d almost delved into a conversation with her, but realized he’d had to get back to his room to shower if he was going to meet his parents for brunch on time. Now, he walked towards the woman in the garden with purpose, having decided immediately where he’d spend the next hour or so reading his book.
He approached her quietly, admiring the garden as he walked through it towards the benches. She didn’t look up from her book, and he realized that she was so engrossed in her reading that she may not have heard him coming.
“Hello,” Sam said lightly.
Her head lifted with a start. “Oh!” She gave a short laugh as she squinted up at him in the sunlight. “I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even hear you.”
“Good book, then?” he asked, gesturing with his chin towards the thick novel she had in her lap.
“Um, yes, actually.” She peered up at him for a moment. “Wait. You’re the guy from the lobby this morning, right?”
“I am.” He gave a crooked grin as he joked, “Guess you didn't recognize me at first without my being soaked with sweat. That was a charming look, I'm sure.”
“You were charming,” she remarked. “You were very chivalrous.”
His grin broadened into a wide, appealing smile. “Chivalrous? All I did was upright your suitcase and return your runaway racecar. Hardly a noble gesture.”
She shrugged. “Most people wouldn’t have come over to help. It was nice of you, and I appreciated it.”
He nodded, still smiling. “You're welcome. Well then, do you mind if I join you?”
She looked confused. “What, here?”
“Yeah. It’s a gorgeous day, and I came to find a good spot to read.” He lifted the book he held to show her and gave a quick, sweeping gesture at the garden around them. “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”
She grinned at him. “There are three empty benches here, I’d say you have your pick.”
“Thanks.” He sat at the one to her right, south of the fountain. The sunlight wasn’t directly in his face, which was good, and the sound of the water trickling and gurgling lightly in the fountain was soothing to him. He took off his sunglasses and set them down on the bench before he turned towards her, leaned forward, and extended his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
She shook his hand with a small, demure smile. “I’m Lydia.”
He looked directly into her eyes. He’d remembered correctly: her eyes were beautiful, the same impression he’d had in their brief first meeting. They were a lucid, golden-tinged brown that reminded him of warm, expensive brandy. He could see intelligence there, softness, and something else… solemnity? Sadness? It intrigued him. “A pleasure, Lydia.” He leaned back to try to find a comfortable position on his cool stone bench, and put his sunglasses back on. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your reading, and I’ll dive into mine.”
Her mouth
curved up again in a soft smile. “Enjoy.”
Hidden behind his sunglasses, his eyes lingered on her for a moment before he looked down to find his place in his book.
Lydia looked back down to her book as well; but after a minute, once she was sure he was involved in his reading, she peeked over at him from underneath her lashes. As he'd pointed out earlier, he wasn’t dripping with sweat and in wet, sticky running clothes now; he was dry and clean, clad in a cobalt blue fleece jacket, a glimpse of a T-shirt visible underneath at his neck, and jeans that flattered his long legs. She even liked his sneakers; they looked more like hiking shoes, like something out of the Lands’ End catalogs she loved to peruse.
He was definitely good looking—she’d gotten that much right in her fast appraisal in the lobby that morning. She very much liked his warm, dark brown eyes; she perceived kindness and depth in them. The planes of his face were slightly angular, with a strong jaw. His thick, dark hair had a slight wave to it, and she surprised herself when she caught herself thinking they would be perfectly delicious waves to run her fingers through.
And that smile—he had a hell of a smile. Radiant, inviting, captivating. It occurred to her he probably knew what a persuasive smile he had and maybe, on occasion, used to it his advantage. But she found it hard not to be won over by it, even a little mesmerized, and the silliness of that ruffled her; she didn’t consider herself the type of person to be influenced by a smile.
She glanced at the book in his hands, trying to glean what it was, but found herself noticing that his long fingers were solid, sturdy, clean—and devoid of jewelry. No wedding ring.
She shook her head at herself. So what if there’s no wedding ring? I came here to be alone, she reminded herself stridently, and directed her gaze back down to her book.
They read side by side for over fifteen minutes before he looked up from his book and asked, “So, Lydia. What brings you here, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Lydia looked up at him and blinked. She’d been lost in her novel, and his unexpected question had ripped her from the world of her book and caught her off guard. “Um—here, to the garden, or here, to the hotel?”
He smiled, a glint in his eye. “To the hotel. I know what you’re doing here in the garden.”
She chuckled in response. “True. Well, I’m here for my friend’s wedding.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Ryan and Melanie’s wedding?”
She nodded. “Yeah. You too?”
“Yeah. I’m a good friend of Ryan’s, we grew up together,” Sam said.
“Oh. Well, I’m a good friend of Melanie’s. We were college roommates.”
“Ahhh.” Sam leaned back, took off his sunglasses, and shot her a wicked grin. “I bet you have lots of interesting stories.”
Lydia laughed. “I’m sure you do too.”
Sam nodded and slanted a smirk her way. “Yeah, I do. We could regale each other with nefarious tales of their past indiscretions.”
She arched an eyebrow and said plainly, “We could. But I don’t know you, so I won’t.”
He stopped and stared at her. “I like that,” he said. “I mean, I was just kidding; I wouldn’t give a friend up so quickly either, especially to a stranger. But I like that you just basically told me to go scratch. You’re a good friend. Pretty commendable.”
She stared back at him for a moment, then let out a befuddled laugh in spite of herself. “Um, okay.”
“Where did you and Melanie go to college?” Sam asked, his gaze unwavering. “If that’s not asking for too much disclosure.”
Lydia shook her head at him but grinned. “Boston University.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that she went to school up there. Were you roommates all four years?”
“No. We met freshman year, but had different roommates. We lived together for the last three years.”
“Ah. Okay.”
A strong breeze blew suddenly. It lifted Lydia’s hair off her shoulders, knocked yellow, orange, and red leaves from their nearby branches and sent them sailing through the air. Some of the leaves came cascading down towards them; Sam reached up gracefully and caught a huge, bright yellow leaf.
“Good catch,” she marveled.
He smiled and held it out to her. “Would you like it?”
She eyed him warily, trying to figure out if he was being facetious, or simply playful. They were grown adults, and he was actually offering her a leaf. His dark eyes were twinkling at her, filled with humor and amiability. Just… open.
It’s a leaf, Lydia. For Christ’s sake. “Sure, I’ll take it,” she said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he replied as he handed it to her.
She laughed lightly as she reached out, grasped the leaf by its stem with two delicate fingers, and placed it between the last page and back cover of her book. She looked back up at him with a quizzical expression.
“What?” he asked, still grinning.
“You’re… interesting,” she said.
His eyes held hers. “In a good way, or a peculiar way?”
A rush went through her at the look in his eyes, but she laughed again. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Ha!” He flashed a wide, brilliant smile at her, revealing seemingly perfect teeth. “Well, maybe over the weekend, you’ll figure it out one way or the other. You’ll have to let me know before you leave.”
Oh boy. Lydia hadn’t seen a smile that captivating in a long time. Maybe ever. At least, it was the effect it had on her, and at her age, she found that utterly ridiculous. She briefly assessed Sam again; he was handsome, obviously good-natured, liked to read, and quick to joke? There had to be a catch. Maybe he really was married and just wasn’t wearing his ring. Maybe he liked unbearably cheesy music, or chewed with his mouth open, or was a terrible slob, or had a hidden foot fetish—there had to be something that was off-putting. But, for the moment, she saw no evidence of that, and she found herself staring back at him, as he was at her.
Music started playing from somewhere in Sam’s jacket. He quickly reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. She recognized the ringtone: the introductory guitar part of “Top Jimmy” by Van Halen. She couldn’t help but crack a grin; she’d always liked that song.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized to her as he looked at the caller ID, “but I have to take this. Excuse me.”
“Of course,” she said, surprised at his good manners. Most people didn’t apologize for answering their cell phone anymore; they took their calls anywhere, at any time, and loudly. She was liking him more with each passing minute.
“Hello?” Sam said into his iPhone. “Yeah, I can hear you…” He stood up. “Everything okay…? No, it’s alright, go ahead. Actually, no, hold on a sec.” He looked down at Lydia and said quickly, “I have to take this, it’s work. But I’ll go away so you can read in peace. Can I leave my things here? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Sure,” she said.
“Thanks.” He smiled, then grabbed his sunglasses and put them on before he turned and walked away; talking quietly into his phone, he headed towards the stone patio.
Lydia eyed his book where it lay on the adjacent bench. A lifelong bookworm, she was curious to see what he’d been reading, she couldn’t help herself. She edged over to look. It was historical fiction, set during the Civil War. She was a fan of historical fiction herself; in fact, she was also reading historical fiction at the moment. Intrigued but feeling uncharacteristically nosy, she quickly shifted back to her full place on her own bench, and again picked up the thick novel about Queen Elizabeth I she’d set down. But she couldn't concentrate. She closed the book yet again.
Raising her face to the bright blue sky, she inhaled a deep cleansing breath of crisp autumn air and looked around. She was happy to be sitting outside on such a beautiful day, just relaxing, just being. And sitting with a friendly, attractive stranger didn’t hurt too much, either. Especially one who liked to read and could make her smile. Again, she
shook her head at herself in mild reproach, and went back to reading her book.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Sam trudged across with a friendly grin on his face and a bottle of water in each hand. “I thought you might like one,” he said, offering her a bottle.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was thoughtful.”
“You’re welcome.” He retook his seat on the bench he’d vacated. They both drank in silence for a minute. When she lifted the bottle to her mouth, the sun glinted and sparkled off the ring on her left hand. Sam saw immediately that it wasn’t a wedding ring or a diamond engagement ring; it was a round, bluish-purple stone, flanked by swirls of tiny diamonds on either side. She couldn’t be single. That would be too… too good, he admitted to himself.
“That’s a beautiful ring,” he said. “May I?”
She frowned at first, then realized what he was talking about and held out her left hand to him. He didn’t touch her fingers, sensing her quiet ambivalence, and just leaned in to examine the ring more closely. “Tanzanite?”
“Yes,” she said, obviously impressed that he’d recognized the gemstone properly. “It’s my favorite stone.”
“The setting is lovely,” he told her. “I couldn’t help but notice it.”
“Thank you.” Lydia took another sip of water. “My sister gave it to me, actually,” she blurted out.
Sam’s eyes fastened on hers. “Really? Well, that’s nice. But why would your sister give you such a lavish gift? Did you have a big birthday or something?”
“My sister is very generous, she married well, and she likes to give extravagant gifts simply because she can,” Lydia said as she withdrew her hand. She looked down at the ring, and her brows furrowed a bit.
“So what was this for?” Sam prompted. “Now I'm curious, I admit it.”
Lydia pressed her lips together, looking over at the flowers for a minute, obviously debating on what to tell him. She decided on the truth. “It’s a freedom ring,” she murmured, again staring at the trinket on her hand.
Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) Page 3
