Now what? Open it behind the bar? Hell no!
She slipped into one of the guest restrooms and locked herself in a stall.
Inside of the envelope was a…
Check.
A check?
Same scrawling penmanship.
In the memo line it read, “Try not to work so hard.”
It was written out for the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.
One hundred fucking thousand dollars!
Was this a joke?
The check seemed real enough. Drawn from a well-known bank. Elliot R Stanton written clearly at the top. No address though. No phone number.
No declaration of love.
Was he paying her for their time together? That Rat Bastard!
Her first inclination was to tear it into one hundred thousand fucking little pieces. She started to tear the paper in two separate directions, but then she stopped herself.
That bastard!
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t throw his payment into the toilet.
Which made it all the worse.
If she tore it up, every time the utilities got turned off, every time Carley and her sat down for peanut butter tortillas because that was the only thing in the cupboards, she would berate herself for turning such a payment away. She’d chastise herself when her car broke down, or when she couldn’t pull quite enough together to pay rent.
She wanted to think of it as a gift but she’d had sex with him, for Christ sakes. It was a payment.
How could he do this to her?
Did he expect a thank you note from her? Was she now indebted to him?
Had she become some sort of tax deduction? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
She stuffed the check into her apron and returned to the bar. She didn’t know what the hell to do with it.
She couldn’t cash it.
She couldn’t destroy it.
Fuck!
Two older men, somewhat resembling truck drivers, bellied up to the bar. “What can I get you tonight?”
“How much for those?” The stockier of the two leered at her chest.
Noel turned her back to them and wanted to cry. She could deal with this. She could!
Elliot entered his password and pulled up his account balance. She still hadn’t cashed the check.
He’d been home three weeks now. Two weeks and six days, to be exact.
Ellen was doing better this time, or so she told him, and his dad said he might go visit her.
Other than that, everything was the same. The same black and white existence he’d not realized he endured.
Exactly the same as before he left.
Her words, spoken so casually, echoed in his memory. “Why aren’t you happy, Elliot?” Cause he had everything he needed, everything a man could possibly want, and yet he felt empty. Maybe he’d been empty all along.
Why hadn’t she cashed the damn check?
Tapping his fingers on his thigh, he reached for his phone and pulled up her number. Screw this.
He hit call.
One ring, two, three, and then a little crackling and “This is Noel Blake?” She spoke in a question, obviously not recognizing his number.
“How come you haven’t cashed my check?”
Nothing. “Noel? Are you there?”
“I am,” Finally. “I just didn’t expect– What do you mean, how come I haven’t cashed your check? Why the hell did you write it? That’s what I’d like to know!” Just hearing her voice warmed his blood.
“I asked first. Why haven’t you cashed it?” And then, god damnit. “You did get it right?”
“Of course I got it.” She sounded angry. Elliot glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes to four in Colorado right now.
“Are you driving?” He didn’t want to distract her if she was maneuvering some god-awful mountain road.
“No, it’s my night off. I’m at home.”
He’d never seen her at home. “What are you wearing?” And then he couldn’t believe he’d asked her that.
Was she going to hang up on him? And then he heard her sigh. “Elliot? Why? Why are you calling me now?”
“Did you tear up my check?” She didn’t sound very grateful, or like a woman who missed him.
“Of course not. That would be stupid.”
“So why haven’t you cashed it?”
“Don’t you get it? Because… that would make me… cheap.”
“Cashing a check for one hundred thousand dollars would make you feel cheap?” He asked incredulously, still not understanding her. Except he’d wanted to do something for her. He’d wanted to do something little that could make her life easier.
“Exactly. Elliot, I work hard. I make my own money and even though I don’t always pay everything on time, I, well, I – I’m proud that I’m taking care of things. I’m proud that I can take care of my sister, something my mom could never quite do.”
“But you still have it. Will you please just put it in an account somewhere, hang onto it for a rainy day?”
Silence.
“It’s in my jewelry box. If I need it, it’s there.”
At least there was that. But now that he had her on the phone, he didn’t want to let her go. “I miss you.”
He’d said it.
He barely knew her but that didn’t seem to matter.
Although they’d shared a lot that night, neither had mentioned anything about their feelings. Both of them had followed some modern code that if they hooked up neither would have any expectations… after.
And then he heard her sniff. At least he thought that was what it was. “Elliot.” She half cried when she said his name. “I can’t do this. I know this isn’t cool, and you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but, forgetting you… letting go of this… has been really hard. And I’m sorry if you’re bored, or feeling nostalgic right now, but I can’t do this. I just… can’t.”
And then the line was dead.
He thrummed his fingers on the table now. And then went back to his phone. This time, he hit message.
I’m not bored, he tapped in and then sent the text.
And I don’t think you’re crazy.
He waited.
Noel: I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.
He’d been mad at the time. But now, he understood.
He remembered how he’d felt in that room after she’d abandoned him. Was that how she felt when he left Colorado?
He glanced around his apartment. Black, lots of stainless steel, clean lines, tall endless windows.
I’m sorry I did.
Chapter Eight
Noel tried forgetting about the call, and his cryptic text. What did he mean, he was sorry he did? And then nothing.
That had been yesterday. And now she was gonna have to try to forget him all over again. Damn him!
Damn him.
She nearly started sobbing as she stuffed the cash from her bank into the register drawer. Everywhere she looked invoked some memory of those two days she’d known him. And now she couldn’t even look at her phone without unsettling emotion washing over her again.
He was sorry he’d said goodbye?
What did that mean?
She slammed the drawer shut. She needed to get her act together. A few tourists were starting to drift into town for the warmer weather and the hotel was at seventy percent. She flipped the lights on and turned on the ubiquitous background music.
She was going to be okay.
If nothing else, Elliot had brought her to life again. Shown her how important human contact was. She should date again. Just because she spent so much time working didn’t mean she shouldn’t make an effort to get out a little, to have a few friends.
She peered closer at the glass she was polishing and, disgusted, rubbed away the lipstick marks. Even the scalding hot water in the dishwasher failed to get rid of these annoying prints. She’d rewash this one though, because, really, it was just… gross.
Always, always, these glasses
needed polishing. She’d get as many in as she could before it got busy.
Which might be sooner than later. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow and turned around to address the guest she’d heard walk through the doors.
And then proceeded to drop the damn glass.
Again.
It fell onto the bottles in the well, bounced off the Jamison, and onto the floor.
It was Elliot.
What the…
As he approached the bar his lips twitched for just a second before tilting into a smile. He didn’t stop at the bar.
Instead he walked around, stepped through the opening, and stopped in front of her.
He was here.
Elliot was here, behind the bar.
She ignored the glass and licked her lips. Her mouth had gone dry and a roaring filled her ears.
“Hey,” he said, suddenly not looking as confident as he had before. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“Hey,” she returned. He looked so good. Better even than she remembered. Was his sister back in town? “Um… do you want a drink?” But he shook his head.
“No. I wanted to ask you something.”
Why was he here? He wanted to ask her something? She hoped this wasn’t about that damn check.
“What?” She swallowed hard. Scared to death by the hope growing inside of her.
“Will you have dinner with me?” He tilted his head to one side and a lock of that black hair fell across one eye. “And maybe take me hiking?”
“How – ” Her voice wobbled a little. “How long are you here for?”
He grimaced a little. Was he embarrassed? “I’m not staying at the hotel.”
“You’re not?”
“I rented a condo. I kinda like this little town. It has a lot going for it.”
“Yes,” she sputtered. “And yes.” She couldn’t stop that joy that threatened to take over her entire being.
And then his hands were out of his pockets and he was stepping over broken glass to get to her. “God, I love that smile.” He wrapped his arms around her and she tucked her face into his shirt.
Best. Hug. Ever.
“I love how you smell.” The words escaped unheeded. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He tilted her chin back and searched her eyes. “I don’t know how this is gonna work out. But I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I couldn’t stop thinking we needed to give whatever this is some time.”
“And so you’re here.” She touched the side of his face. It was rough as though it had been several hours since he’d shaved.
“I’m here.”
About the Author
Married to the same man for over 25 years, I am a mother to three children and two Miniature Wiener dogs After owning a business and experiencing considerable success, my husband and I got caught in the financial crisis and lost everything; our business, our home, even our car.
At this point, I put my B.A. in political science to use and took work as a waitress and bartender. Unwilling to give up on a professional life, I simultaneously went back to college and obtained a degree in Energy Management.
And then the energy market dropped off.
And then my dog died.
I can only be grateful for this series of unfortunate events, for, with nothing to lose and completely demoralized, I sat down and began to write the romance novels which had until then, existed only my imagination. I am happy to have found my place in life.
Finally.
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e-mail: [email protected]
An Apple for the Teacher
A Teachers’ Lounge novella
Deelylah Mullin
About the Story
Dinah James, a single mother of fifteen-year old Faith, needs a change. Her daughter has a life of her own, and seems to spend more time traveling with her drama club than she spends at home. But Dinah gave up everything in Las Vegas to move back to Zephyr and started fresh as a history teacher. The reclusive town isn’t even a speck on the map, and is a well-kept secret amongst dwellers of the sunset side of Michigan. What will she do to rewrite her own history?
Arlan DeSalvo just arrived in Zephyr. He doesn’t even have a chance to get the lay of the land before he starts to set up his classroom at Zephyr Middle/High School. Not long into the school year, the scientist-now-educator finds he’s mixed up some chemistry with the gorgeous history teacher.
When the past comes back to haunt Dinah—and Faith—the results could affect the entire village of Zephyr. Especially Arlan.
Would you risk everything you have for one perfect love that could last a lifetime?
You asked for it, you got it.
For my support squad. You guys rock my socks.
Chapter One
Dinah glanced at the clock before continuing. “Ladies and gentlemen, that’s it for today. Please remember to complete the next section in chapter three as homework and review your notes from the first two sections. I expect some topics for presentations tomorrow!”
Layla, one of her best students, approached her. “Ms. James? I have a family obligation tonight and I don’t think I’ll have my topic by tomorrow.”
Grinning, Dinah said, “Oh, Layla. Don’t worry about it. Are you going to see your grandparents tonight?”
The teen nodded enthusiastically. “I am. We’ve got this huge thing and they’re both really excited to see the family.”
“Well, tell them I said ‘Hi.’ And your parents, too. Get that topic to me by the end of the week.”
“Sure thing. I really appreciate it.” Layla’s grin was a brilliant white and nearly blinded Dinah before she spun and jogged out the doorway, joining her friends waiting in the hall.
I really need to find out which dentist she goes to. I need sunglasses when she’s smiling.
She glanced at her desk. Her Harry Potter mug was empty. The Mauraders’ Map wrapping the vessel had no footprints—created by heat—showing. She grabbed the cold ceramic and cradled it in the crook of her opposite arm. As Dinah slogged down the hallway at Zephyr Middle/High School, she knew this would be a tiring school year.
And it was only mid-September.
As she rounded the corner, a group of football players were huddled near one of the junior’s lockers. Raucous laughter burst from the boys.
“Dude, I dare you to tell Coach how you spent the weekend!”
More laughter.
A different voice. “You’re going to be doing suicides until you puke!”
Across the hall, a boy looked forlornly at the gathering. Dinah could practically feel him reaching out to be included as one of the brothers.
The neon Coming Soon sign caught her attention as she continued down the hallway.
* * *
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
By William Shakespeare
Come see this modern retelling of one of the Bard’s most humorous tales.
Screenplay by Anthony Newman and Faith James
Directed by Kennedy Armbruster; Layla Timmons; and faculty advisor, Kelly McCoy
* * *
There were three performances, and Faith had been cast as Hermia. Another weekend in the theater. It could be worse—she could have chosen an outdoor activity.
“Dinah! I just love that necklace! It really brings out the green hints in your eyes,” Mara Slade, the art teacher, chirped, as she rounded the corner where hallways intersected. “Wherever did you find it? We should shop together sometime because we have the same tastes.” She slid her arm around Dinah’s as they walked hip-to-hip on the familiar path to the teachers’ lounge.
For crappy coffee.
“We should
go shopping. Sometime when Faith is out of town, we will.” Dinah tried to muster at least a little enthusiasm for the woman who had become her closest friend in Zephyr.
But they weren’t really that close.
Dinah didn’t let others in. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep her peaceful life just the way it was. It has to be this way.
“…so I definitely think we should go into Petoskey this weekend and take in the last outdoor concert of the year. The band is supposed to be good,” Mara said.
“Faith—”
“Bring her with us. It’s not like she’s a bratty kid or anything. She’s pretty cool, if you ask me.” Mara opened the door to the lounge.
Making a beeline for the restaurant-grade coffee maker, Dinah groaned.
“Ut oh. Someone didn’t make coffee. I sense an email brewing in that ginger-topped head of yours.” Mara chuckled and used the tap on the side to fill her cup with hot water. She likely had some new herbal tea which was her absolute favorite ever.
“You know, it’s not that big a deal. I don’t mind—and, there was enough for me.” Dinah grinned. “But woe to the person who arrives for a refill before the pot is done.”
The door opened and there he was. Arlan DeSalvo. The new chemistry teacher. The guy was sex-on-a-stick as far as Dinah was concerned. A long tunnel connected the two of them, and Dinah felt drawn to the younger man. Until her train of thought was interrupted.
Mara whispered, “Breathe.” Then, she addressed the newcomer, “Hey, Arlan. Good job not blowing the school up, so far.”
He chuckled. “Well, I haven’t gotten the fun chemicals out, yet. Give me time.” He turned his brilliant smile on Dinah. “I see you’re up to no good, Dinah.” He pointed at her cup.
She chuckled, feeling the heat creeping up her neck. “Yeah. But, I took the last of the coffee—sorry. Whomever finished the other pot didn’t bother to make more.” She took in the white chip in the green ceramic cup latched around his index finger. His hands were beautiful. She imagined him floating his long fingers over a piano keyboard playing Chopin in the living room as she painted in the sunporch of her home.
Covet the Curves: a Romance Collections Anthology Page 42
