by Lee McKenzie
“John is a great husband. And father.”
“Congratulate him for me.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“On making senior partner.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Maggie, he could see, was watching the exchange with a lot more interest than the situation merited. After all, he and Allison were ancient history. Prehistoric ancient history. She’d spent their senior year trying to make him into someone he wasn’t. When it hadn’t worked, she’d gone off to college and by Christmastime that year, she and John Fontaine were engaged.
He took a card out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to Maggie. “I’ll let you ladies get on with your makeovers. I’ll be back in the morning to start on that estimate. Meanwhile, if you think of anything else, Miss Meadowcroft, give me a call.”
He headed for the front door, uncomfortably aware of two pairs of eyes on his back.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FINEST-LOOKING man Maggie Meadowcroft had ever seen had just walked out the front door and she hadn’t done anything to stop it.
Stop him.
Right. As if a man like him would ever be interested in a woman like her. Besides, he’d be back in the morning to give this old house a good going-over. She finally had the place and the money to make her dream come true—and now she had the world’s most handsome contractor to help her do it! She couldn’t wait to find out more about him, so it was a lucky thing Allison had shown up when she did. Who would know more than an ex-girlfriend?
“It’s great that you could come over,” Maggie said. “I know how busy you are with the kids and everything.”
“Don’t be silly. That conditioner you gave me the other day is incredible. My hair has never felt softer.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Why was everyone always so amazed that natural products were, well, more natural?
Natural or not, Allison looked fabulous. How the woman did it, Maggie would never know. She took care of that big house, her husband and two kids and she always looked liked a cover model. Never a hair out of place. Beautiful clothes. Make that beautiful, expensive clothes.
Maggie would always remember her mother’s reaction when she’d admired a dress in the window of an exclusive shop on the Upper East Side. “Designer clothes will make anyone look good, Maggie, but they don’t change how a person feels about herself. That’s something that comes from the heart.”
She fingered the string of pearls around her neck. Her mother was a wise woman. “Come on into the kitchen,” she said to Allison. “I’m dying to have you try my new mask. It’s pure heaven.”
She seated Allison at the kitchen table and draped a plastic cape over her shoulders. It was one thing to spill this stuff on herself, but ruining Allison’s silk shirt would not be good. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual, “Nick Durrance is a friend of yours?”
“Not anymore. We dated in high school. Of course, at the time I was convinced he was ‘the one.’ I did my best to help him get his life on track but some men just can’t be changed.”
“Hmm. There’s no doubt he’d make an interesting project,” Maggie said, as much to herself as to Allison. She brushed Allison’s hair away from her face and clipped it in place.
“Trust me. Nick is way beyond help. His mother and his sister—even his grandmother—have all tried. Everyone knows, I did. He breaks the heart of every woman who tries to reform him.”
Silly women, Maggie thought. That wasn’t the kind of project she had in mind. “Are you wearing makeup?” she asked.
Allison shook her head. “On the phone you said you wanted to try out a mask, so I thought I should take it off. I can’t imagine what Nick must have thought, seeing me like this.”
That you look as beautiful as ever? “So, tell me about you and Nick,” she said instead.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Allison said a little too quickly.
“Does John know you dated him?”
“Of course. We all went to high school together.”
“I see.” What would Nick have been like back then?
Oh!
Aunt Margaret had a whole collection of Collingwood High School yearbooks upstairs. “When did you graduate?” she asked casually, applying an even layer of the strawberry mask to Allison’s forehead.
“It seems like so long ago. We just had our ten-year reunion. Of course, Nick didn’t bother to show up.”
Interesting. That meant he was about four years older than she was. She smoothed the mask over the rest of Allison’s face.
“What’s this stuff made of?” Allison asked. “It smells good enough to eat.”
“Well, it is edible. I really believe that what we put on our bodies is as important as what we put in them.”
Maggie set the container in the sink and filled it with water. To be totally effective, the mask should stay on for fifteen minutes. She set the timer for ten. She could hardly wait to get Allison out of here so she could go upstairs to find that yearbook.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“These kitchen chairs are pretty unforgiving. I’ll have one of those nice adjustable, reclining chairs in the spa.”
Allison smiled. “How did you come up with this idea?”
“I’m not sure, exactly.” She climbed onto a stool and hooked her heels on the top rung. “I’ve wanted to do this for as long as I can remember but I couldn’t afford to rent a shop in New York.”
“Did you live there all your life?”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, my whole life. My mother lives in the Village. My father was a musician and she is a...” How would Allison react to the truth? Only one way to find out. “She does readings.”
“Oh. You mean, she’s a writer? A poet?” Allison actually sounded interested.
Maggie shook her head. “She’s a clairvoyant.”
Silence. “I see,” she said finally.
Maggie very much doubted she did, since she couldn’t imagine Allison ever consulting one. “She’s very good. She even helped the NYPD solve a missing persons case.”
Allison perked up a little. “Oh, now that is amazing. I’ve heard about people who can do that. I’d love to meet her sometime.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. Gabriella hates leaving the city but now that I’m living here, she’s bound to visit once in a while.” But try as she might, she couldn’t imagine her outlandish mother and her straitlaced neighbor having anything in common. “Tell me more about you and Nick...and John, of course...when you were in high school.”
But apparently Allison didn’t want to reminisce. “Are you really going to hire him to renovate this place?” she asked.
“Would it cause problems for you and John if he’s working here?”
“Not at all. Don’t be silly.”
But Maggie saw the color creep up Allison’s neck. “I like Nick,” she said. “He seems to know a lot about renovating old houses, but he wants to give me an estimate before I make a decision.”
Allison’s eyes widened. “I should hope so. Don’t let him take advantage of you.”
What a strange thing for her to say. “I’m a very good judge of character and I can’t see him doing that.”
Pencil-thin eyebrows arched beneath the pink mask.
“It’s true,” Maggie said. “I can tell he’s honest, but for some reason he’s not happy.” And although he was about as good-looking as a guy could be, he didn’t seem to have a lot of confidence when it came to women. In spite of her track record with men, she’d like to think she could fix that. “You know, I envy you.”
“Me? Why?” But Allison did not sound surprised.
“You’ve been in love twice. Well, twice that I know of.”
“Are you saying you’re interested in Nick?”
“No! I just met him. All I’m saying that being in love twice, first with Nick and then with John...do you know how lucky that is?”
Allison sud
denly seemed preoccupied with the cuticle of one perfectly manicured nail. “Are you saying you’ve never fallen in love?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve fallen in love, but I’ve never been in love with anyone.”
Allison looked up at her. “There’s a difference?”
“Of course. I’ve fallen in love twice. Three times if you count sixth grade, but I don’t. I’m pretty sure I was too young. But I fell seriously in love when I was a senior, with a boy who didn’t even know I was alive.” Her insides startled her by contracting unexpectedly. Nick reminded her of that boy. Jeremy... Hmm. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten his name.
“And the second time?”
“The second time was when I moved into my own apartment and became friends with the guy across the hall.”
“But?”
“Just when I started to think he might fall in love with me, a woman named Debbie moved into the apartment down the hall. Six months later he asked her to marry him. So although I’ve fallen in love, I’ve never been in love with someone who loved me back.”
“That’s an interesting distinction. I’ve never thought of it that way.”
Yeah, well, Allison had probably had dozens of boys—and men—fall in love with her, so the odds were that she was bound to love some of them back.
Maggie sighed. “Someone fell in love with me once, in high school. He was so sweet and I did everything in my power to fall in love with him, but nothing worked. I even begged my mother to cast one of her spells on us, but she said a love spell would only work if love was destined to be. In my case, she was sure it wasn’t, and, of course, she was right.”
“Your mother does love spells?”
Watch what you say around these people, Maggie.
Aunt Margaret? Is that you?
Allison was watching her, waiting for an answer.
Now that she’d blurted the stuff about love spells, she couldn’t think of a way out of it. “Yes, she does. But apparently there’s nothing she can do to help me. I have a habit of falling in love with the wrong men. Not bad men—” she hastened to add “—just men who don’t fall in love with women like me.”
“And what kind of woman are you, Maggie Meadowcroft?”
“Me?”
Watch what you say around these people.
“Well, let’s see. I have a tendency to leap before I look. I always have good intentions, but sometimes I rush into things and they don’t always turn out the way I planned.”
There, that sounded safe enough.
“You’ll fall in love someday, Maggie, and when it happens, it will have been worth the wait. But—” she studied her cuticle some more “—just a word of advice. You mentioned falling for the wrong ones. Nick’s one of them.”
Maggie jumped down from the stool and started to clear things off the kitchen table. “I’m sure you’re right.” She wanted to say, “Give me a little credit.” She might be impulsive, but she always learned from experience. Nick Durrance was definitely one of the many, many men who would never fall in love with her.
But she could be curious, couldn’t she?
She decided to change the subject. “Nick said Aunt Margaret was his English teacher. Were you in her class, too?”
Allison seemed to relax a little. “Yes. And trust me, she could have told you stories about Nick Durrance.”
“Really?” Note to self. Find out what Aunt Margaret thinks of him now.
“Miss Meadowcroft loved Shakespeare,” Allison said. “Of course, you probably know that.”
“Yes. Hamlet was her favorite. Whenever she suspected I was up to something, she’d say ‘Maggie Meadowcroft, something’s rotten in the state of Denmark.’ It was years before I understood what that meant. I used to imagine Denmark filled with piles of rotting garbage. Kind of like New York one summer when the garbage collectors were on strike.”
Allison gave her an odd look. “I doubt that Nick ever tried to figure out Shakespeare. He spent more time in detention than in English class. Or any class, for that matter.”
That opinion seemed grossly unfair. Shakespeare wasn’t for everyone. Just like not everyone could renovate a house. “He must have been good at something.”
“Nick was very charming in those days and he didn’t take anything, or anyone, seriously. Not even himself. From what his sister tells me, that hasn’t changed.”
Everyone had strengths and positive traits. Maggie couldn’t tell if Allison had ignored her point, or if she just didn’t get it. She decided to try a different line of questioning. “You mentioned his family. What are they like?”
“You haven’t heard of the Durrance family?”
“Hmm. No, I don’t think so.”
“I thought you used to spend summers up here with your aunt.”
“I did, but she wasn’t into...” Gossip. “Um, she made a point of not talking about her students.”
“That makes sense. Nick’s father was a judge and so was his grandfather. Everybody assumed Nick would go into law, too. He was at the top of the class when we were freshman, then overnight everything changed.”
“How strange. What do you think happened?”
Allison shrugged. “Well, his father died. It was totally unexpected, but still, most people get over things like that. But it seemed to turn Nick into a different person and he never got back to normal.”
Hello? A young, teenage boy lost his father and everyone expected him to just “get over it”? Maggie had only been a little older when her father died. She’d missed him like crazy, but on another level, he’d still been there with her and her mother. That was when she’d first become aware that she had what Aunt Margaret called “the gift.”
“Maybe he really missed his father,” she said.
“Anything’s possible, but according to Leslie, Judge Durrance was a workaholic. He devoted himself to his career and other than having high expectations of her and Nick, he pretty much ignored them.”
“Who’s Leslie?”
“Nick’s sister.”
“I see,” Maggie said, glancing at the timer. Only a few more minutes. “How does your skin feel?”
“Great. How long does this stay on?”
“Just another minute or two. So, is Leslie older or younger than Nick?”
“A year younger. She’s an attorney, just like everyone expected her to be. Probably her mother’s influence. Lydia Durrance—Nick’s mother—is an amazing woman. She has a beautiful home and she puts on the most incredible garden parties you’ve ever been to.”
Except that Maggie had never been to one. The Village was well-known for its parties, but they weren’t the garden variety.
Allison was still gushing. “On top of that, she does a lot for the community. There’s even a charity named after her.”
“Really? She sounds formidable.”
Allison laughed. “She is, in a way.”
And yet you’d give almost anything to be her, Maggie thought. Interesting.
The timer buzzed. “All right, then. Let’s take this off.” She gently washed the mask off Allison’s face and patted her skin dry. “What do you think?”
Allison ran both hands along the sides of her face. “Amazing. I don’t know how you do this with just the stuff in your kitchen.”
“Chemical-based products dry your skin and then you need more chemicals to make it moist again. Natural ingredients are all about pampering yourself.”
“When you first told me about this idea of yours, I didn’t think it would work. Now I can’t wait for your spa to open. Will you let me be the first customer?”
Maggie walked her neighbor to the front door. “Sure. Any chance you might tell your friends about it, too?”
Allison smiled one of her rare smiles. “You know, I’m tempted to keep you all to myself.”
Maggie laughed. “Then you’d better plan to give me a lot of business!”
Allison gave her an unexpected hug. “I’m glad you moved into your aunt’s house,
Maggie. Miss Meadowcroft was a nice neighbor, but I think I’m really going to like having you here.”
Maggie hugged her back. “What a sweet thing to say. Thank you.”
“I’d better get home. John will be wondering what’s happened to me and the kids are probably driving him crazy.”
“Tell him I said hello.” Maggie gently closed the door, then bolted up the stairs to find those yearbooks.
* * *
NICK CRACKED OPEN a soda and tossed a frozen dinner into the microwave. After punching a few numbers on the keypad, he leaned against the counter and took a swig from the can.
Images of Maggie Meadowcroft and the sound of her silky-smooth voice kept drifting through his mind. She was one intriguing woman. Superattractive—for all the obvious reasons, of course—and not a pretentious bone in her body. In spite of the pearls.
He tried to picture his mother and sister at a place that served up skin-care products made of yogurt and mayonnaise.
Nope. Couldn’t do it.
Nothing but the best for the Durrance women, and everyone knew the best came with a hefty price tag and a designer label. Maggie, on the other hand, wanted to sink her inheritance into converting an old house into a day spa.
What had she called it? Inner Beauty?
Actually he kind of liked the sound of that. It suggested that she intended to work with what a person already had instead of trying to make them into something they weren’t. Admirable intentions but not much of a business plan. Especially not for this town, where people like his mother and sister were the rule rather than the exception.
The microwave pinged just as he finished his cola. He grabbed another from the fridge, fished around in the cutlery drawer for a fork and opened the microwave. Using a dish towel as a pot holder, he slid his dinner out and dumped it on the counter before the heat completely pierced the towel.
He shoved the newspaper and three days’ worth of mail to the side, pulled the cellophane cover off his dinner and inhaled. Man, he really needed to learn how to cook.
Maggie seemed pretty handy in the kitchen.
