Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  “You sure you're doing okay?” Hank asked.

  “I’m fine,” Charlie said with a smile. "Are you okay?"

  Hank shrugged.

  "Good let's get some breakfast," Charlie said.

  After they'd settled at table for two in the windows at Betty Lou's, Hank decided he'd better bring it up again. Just to be sure.

  “You're sure you're all right? With Nels being engaged and all?”

  “Nels and Dina? Yes. I've never met her before but, I think they make the cutest couple ever, don’t you?”

  Hank gave a non-committal shrug. “I guess.”

  “I think I'm going to get the short stack with an order of bacon on the side,” Charlie said. “What are you getting?”

  “I'm getting the hash,” he said without even thinking. Hank continued to size her up after the waitress brought their order. He couldn't take his eyes off her face while trying to decide how badly Charlie's heart was bruised.

  “Do I have something on my face?” Charlie asked. His frequent glances in her direction were making her feel self-conscious.

  “No,” he said. “You look great.”

  She did. The fresh air had put some color in her cheeks. She looked beautiful. More beautiful than ever.

  Why can't you just let it be? Assume she's telling the truth.

  Hank glanced over at Charlie as they pulled into the parking space they shared in front of the duplex.

  Hank followed Charlie up the front path to the duplex he shared. He stopped in the middle of the front porch, not knowing what to do next. Nels and Dina's announcement had completely thrown him a curve ball. Another awkward moment passed between them. Charlie couldn’t maintain eye contact, and Hank was feeling completely off of his game.

  “I should go,” he said.

  “Thanks for the walk in the woods,” Charlie said. “I had a blast.”

  "Good," Hank said. Then he left without another word.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Charlie shouted in triumph when she snagged ‘The Doris Day’ directly in front of Billie’s Boutique on Front Street. Petey called the spot right in front of the door in any parking lot ‘The Doris Day.’

  “Doris does not circle the block looking for parking,” Petey says. “Doris gets the front spot every single time.”

  Getting ‘The Doris Day’ always made Charlie feel like a winner. The windows of Billie’s Boutique were decorated for Valentine’s Day. Naughty lingerie had been artfully draped over vintage mannequins with the words, “Dress You Up in My Love.” Charlie whole-heartedly thought Madonna would approve as she pushed the door open and entered the beautifully perfumed boutique. Billie and a sales clerk, named Monique, were setting up a display of glass votive candles near an antique settee.

  “I’m so glad you decided to stare down your fear of three-way mirrors,” Billie said.

  Monique was dark haired with a French Canadian accent, she greeted Charlie with a kiss on each cheek.

  “Monique,” Billie said. “Charlie’s in desperate need of a break-up over.”

  “When did it happen?” Monique asked with a lilt of sympathy in her voice.

  “A year ago,” Charlie said. “On Valentine’s Day Eve.”

  “Oh, dear. You should’ve come sooner,” Monique said.

  “Nels and Dina got engaged,” Charlie blurted.

  “What?” Billie looked shocked.

  “I bumped into them yesterday while Hank and I were out running.”

  “Wait! Running? With Hank? I think that’s the real headline.”

  “Trust me. I think Hank just wanted someone to go with him into the woods just in case he got lost. We ran into Nels and Dina. She showed me the rock. They look so perfect together. They remind me of Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley,” Charlie said. “And that got me to thinking, by the time Jane and Mr. Bingley got together in the book, Elizabeth had met Mr. Darcy and he’d already bungled his first marriage proposal.”

  “I’m almost following your logic,” Billie said. “So what’s your point?”

  “My point is: how can a guy who’s my Mr. Wickham, be someone else’s Mr. Bingley?”

  “I’m not so sure Nels is Dina’s Bingley,” Billie said. “He may still be her Wickham.”

  “Whatever happened to Wickham?” Monique asked. “I can’t remember. I haven’t read the book since seventh grade.”

  “He married crazy Lydia and pined for Elizabeth for the rest of his short stupid life,” Billie said. “Nels isn’t your Darcy, Charlie. He’s your Wickham.”

  “Are you sure?” Charlie asked.

  If Nels was her Wickham. Who was her Mr. Darcy?

  “What if I’m not Elizabeth Bennet?” she asked. What if I’m the sister who reads all the time and can’t sing? “Shit! I think I’m the wrong damn Bennet sister.”

  “Can we rejoin reality here?” Billie asked. “What’s got you so bugged?”

  “Katrina put Effie in charge of a party at the library on Valentine’s Day. If it isn't a success the Board of Directors may sell the old library, cut the staff and move the entire catalogue online.”

  “I saw the flyer on the bulletin board in Joe’s Cuppa,” Monique said. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Seriously?” Charlie asked.

  “It sounds like great fun on a winter’s night,” Billie said.

  “So, you’ll come? We need all the bodies we can get. “

  “We’ll be there,” Billie said. “You can count on us.”

  “Petey is going to bring a popcorn machine, and show The Philadelphia Story in the old auditorium.”

  “Okay,” Billie said. “Let’s get down to business. Charlie needs some of your magic.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Monique said. She led Charlie deeper into the bright and cheerful store filled with romantic things to turn any woman’s head. The dressing area was in a secluded area secreted behind satin curtains in the back half of the store. A round sofa and a wall of mirrors made the area feel like a classic movie star's glamorous boudoir.

  Monique showed Charlie to a small changing room.

  “I don’t really want to try anything on,” Charlie said.

  “Okay. Then just take off your sweater and pants. You can leave your bra and panties on. For now. I’m going to take your measurements, so I get an idea of what size I should bring in.”

  “Is that really necessary? I’m a twelve,” Charlie said. She resisted getting undressed in public.

  “All the manufacturers size clothes differently. You could be an eight in one, and a sixteen in another. You don’t know until you try it on.”

  “I was born a size-twelve.” Charlie pulled my shirt over my head. When she was finished both Billie and Monique were staring at her like she was a mermaid who'd just revealed the fish scales she had under her clothes. Actually, they weren’t staring at Charlie. They were staring at her breasts, making her self-conscious. She made a half-hearted attempt to cover herself up.

  “What the hell? What the hell is that?” Billie asked. She pointed to one strap on Charlie’s well-worn bra. It was being held together with a paper clip. “You MacGuyver’ed your own bra?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “It’s not even the right size for her,” Monique added. “It’s stretched so tight over her ribs, if it breaks that thing is going to slingshot you all the way to Montana.”

  “Is that your best bra?” Billie asked. “Or is it laundry day?”

  “It’s my only bra,” Charlie said.

  “You only have one bra?” Monique used her hand to fan her face.

  “How many does a girl need?” Charlie asked.

  Monique and Billie shared a look.

  “Oh. My. God. I had no idea,” Billie said. “Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten this bad?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  “I guess we know where to start,” Monique said. “We need to get your girls some real support. And then, we can work on a dress for the Vale
ntine’s Day party.”

  “You will be a complete heartbreaker,” Billie said.

  Charlie shook her head. “I seriously doubt it. Today in the library, we had two male visitors. One was a complete stranger who had never read Stephen King.”

  “OMG!”

  “The horror!”

  “What is the world coming to?”

  “Stop it. I’m not having sex with any man who doesn’t have a basic understanding of a few featured literary classics and some popular fiction.”

  “Right. A girl has to have some standards,” Billie said after giving a quick side-eye glance at Monique. “Impossible standards.”

  “What about the other guy?” Monique asked.

  “Hank Carter. He came to the rescue when we called about an exploding toilet on the third floor plumbing.” Charlie said.

  “He’s her next-door neighbor. And, we think he has a crush on her.” Billie wiggled her brows at Monique.

  “We don’t have anything in common. He’s some kind of crazy triathlete, training for competitions involving swimming, running and biking hundreds of miles. I get light-headed walking from the living room to the kitchen.”

  “He’s not asking you to be his training partner at the gym. He’s asking you over to watch television. You do know how to sit on a sofa, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes I think I need a fresh start. Somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere else? You mean like London.”

  Billie continued Charlie’s fantasy without missing a beat. “So let’s say you move to London. What do you think is going to happen? Through a strange twist of fate, you and the Duchess of Cambridge become BFFs. You’ll be sharing each other’s lipstick, and then she’ll fix you up with her naughty Ginger brother-in-law…”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Charlie said.

  ***

  “How’s it going over at the library?” Earl asked while helping Hank unload roofing supplies at the Old Mission project. “How much longer do you think we can keep putting a Band-Aid on the plumbing in that old building?”

  “It’s on life support,” Hank said. “Won’t last more than a few months.”

  “Have you talked to Katrina about it?” Earl asked.

  “Katrina?” Hank asked.

  “She’s the head librarian. I’m on the Board of Directors and our meeting is coming up. Katrina has been pushing for some big changes over there.”

  Hank shook his head. “No, but I mentioned it to Charlie.”

  “Charlie?”

  “The assistant librarian. She’s also my next-door neighbor.”

  Earl nodded. “We hired her last year to get the library’s catalogue online. Katrina says she’s way behind on her assigned task.”

  “If she is behind on her work, it’s because Katrina has dumped a lot of her own duties onto her.” Hank tried to keep his voice neutral.

  “Not surprised,” Earl said. “Katrina always liked the idea of being a librarian better than actually being one. What about this Charlie? Do you like her?”

  Hank heaved a package of supplies onto the top of a large pile with a grunt. “Tall, blonde and built like Marilyn Monroe, what’s not to like?”

  Earl stopped what he was doing and raised his eyebrows. “Is she now?”

  “She is.” Hank nodded.

  “Really?” A hint of a smile teased the corners of Earl’s mouth.

  “Yep. Since I’ve been working over there, I get the feeling Charlie has a very hands-on role in the day-to-day workings of the library and the staff,” Hank said. “She asked me about getting an estimate to update the plumbing, so I gave her your number.”

  “Then I’ll look forward to a call from your bombshell librarian,” Earl said with a grin.

  “She may look like a bombshell, but she’s hard-working and smart as hell,” Hank said. “She also smells like fresh baked sugar cookies.”

  Earl sat down on the tailgate of the truck and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, Hank. I’ve known you since you were in first grade. And, this the first time you’ve ever mentioned a girl by name,” Earl said.

  “That’s not true.” Hank’s blush went all the way down to his toes.

  “I beg to differ,” Earl said. “Every woman in town knows you by name, but you’ve never seemed to take any interest in one in particular. Until now.”

  Hank shook his head. “She used to date Nels Ferguson.”

  “Don’t hold that against her,” Earl said. “We all make mistakes when we’re young. I was a card-carrying member of the Bay City Rollers Fan Club when I was in seventh grade.”

  Hank laughed. “I wouldn’t admit to that in mixed company.”

  “I don’t. I’m telling you in confidence.”

  “I was on the Varsity football team with Nels,” Hank said. “He was the kind of guy who rode the bench on ‘Game Day’, but made it into the front row on ‘Picture Day’.”

  “I get the picture,” Earl said. “You can’t hold Nels’ shortcomings against her. It sounds like your Charlie might be something special.”

  “She’s not mine,” Hank said. He finished unloading the last of the roofing supplies and slammed the tailgate shut. “At least, not yet.”

  Earl grinned. “Good man.

  “Thank you,” Hank said, nodding toward the job site “For the job.”

  “I’m glad to have you working for me,” Earl said. “You’re a good man, Hank.”

  Hank extended his hand. Earl took it and Hank gripped Earl’s hand hard. “And the advice. It’s most appreciated.”

  If Hank didn’t think it was against the bro-code his dad taught him—and he had been living by for so long—he would’ve reached out and pulled the old guy in for an ass-out man-hug.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mia and Ariel were completely absorbed by whatever was on Effie’s computer monitor. The three of them were in the lobby when Charlie returned from her lunchtime shopping trip.

  Charlie unbuttoned her heavy winter coat, and unwound the plaid scarf from around her neck to reveal a black pencil skirt and forest-green cardigan sweater. She stepped out of her heavy winter Sorel boots and slipped her feet into the heels she'd been carrying in her pockets.

  “What are you guys up to?” Charlie asked. “Are you working on the party?”

  “Nah. We’ve already divided and conquered. We’ve got it all covered,” Mia said.

  “Are you sure?” Charlie asked, she glanced at Effie. “There’s a lot riding on this?”

  “Ariel’s handling the social media,” Mia said. “I’m doing a flyer to hang all over town. And Effie already has a list vendors who want to donate treats and decorations.”

  “Okay. I don’t mean to be a hardass, but if you’re not working on the party, then you guys have got to get back to work. If Katrina sees the entire staff of the library grouped together in one spot, there will be hell to pay.”

  “But it’s eleven-thirty,” Ariel said.

  “So what? “

  “Hank takes his lunch at eleven-thirty,” Mia insisted.

  “I don't understand. What does that mean?”

  Charlie’s question didn't get answered before there was a noise at the top of the stairs. She looked up just in time to see a pair of workman’s boots skipping down to the lobby from the third floor.

  Hank.

  “Sweet Baby James,” Charlie whispered under her breath.

  It was like something out of a television commercial targeted to woman of a certain age. Charlie was certain she could hear an old Etta James tune cranking out a sexy soundtrack to the tap of his footsteps. Hank sauntered down the stairs and swaggered into the lobby looking like a male model. The entire staff of the Good Harbor Public Library stood motionless and open-mouthed, monitoring his progress as if he was one of the Magic Mike dancers.

  As did a few of the library patrons.

  Hank walked toward the Information Desk, pulling a sweatshirt on over his head, giving everyone gathered to watch his a
ppearance a brief, but oh-so-tantalizing flash, of his tight six-pack abs.

  “Ohmigod,” Mia whispered. “I think Hank’s got ink.”

  “You knocking off for lunch?” Effie was the only member of the library staff who wasn’t completely under Hank’s magic spell. She still had the power of speech.

  “I’m going to run down to Cuppa Joe’s and grab a bite,” Hank said. Then he noticed Charlie. She was attempting to hide herself in the back of the group. “Hey, Charlie! When did you get here?”

  “It’s Thursday,” she said.

  “You work the late shift on Thursdays,” Hank said. Mia and Ariel looked impressed that he knew her schedule.

  Charlie nodded. She was also surprised.

  “Okay, I’ll be back in an hour,” Hank said. He flashed a dazzling smile and then left. Charlie finally let go of the breath she’d been holding the entire time he was standing there.

  Effie turned to Mia and Ariel. “You two are a sexual harassment lawsuit looking for a place to happen,” Effie admonished.

  “We’re just window-shopping,” Mia said.

  “Hank’s eye candy,” Ariel added.

  “Effie’s right,” Charlie insisted. “This has got to stop. Technically, I’m his supervisor. We could all get in a lot of trouble.”

  “Okay,” Ariel said. “But seriously, Charlie. He really likes you. Why aren’t you all up-in-it with him?

  “Hank is very nice,” Charlie said. “But he’s no Mr. Darcy.”

  “Just so we’re clear. When we’re talking about your Mr. Darcy, are we talking about the ‘Colin Firth—Mr. Darcy’, the ‘Matthew McFayden—Mr. Darcy’, or one of the ‘Other Lesser Known—Mr. Darcys?’,” Mia asked.

  “The Colin Firth—Mr. Darcy, for heaven’s sake,” Charlie said. “I’m not delusional.”