by Dana Mentink
Because people are connected through their weaknesses, she thought with a start. She hadn’t begun to fall in love with Bill because he was slick and successful like Jack, but because he was humble and real and struggling. He’d let his light shine crookedly through the cracks, and it lit up the world around him. But now it was all over.
Two people made by God to shine, to love, to share, yet they were both prisoners in their own way. She shook her head miserably.
“Bill’s a good man,” Gunther mused, “even prayed for Lunk. What kinda guy does that?” His knobby fingers never lost their candy-rolling rhythm. “Crazy. Helped me look for that dog every single time he took off. Every time.”
“Bill needs help.”
“Yeah, but he don’t want it. Not from a woman he’s fixin’ to love.”
To love? Could she really be so close to that precious connection only to lose it? Jellybean licked her cheek. “So I should just walk away?”
“I ain’t an expert on these things,” he said with a shrug, “but it seems to me you can’t have a future with a guy who doesn’t think he has one to offer.”
Jellybean wriggled in her arms, repeating the silent question. What are you doing just standing there?
Loving a man who did not want a future with her.
Staying in a town that she was not a part of.
Waiting for an actor who left her and Albatross in the lurch without a backward glance.
Fiona looked up from her books and watched Misty. After a moment, Misty forced her legs into motion and went to the girl. “I’m going to go home tomorrow,” she said. “And I’ll take Jellybean with me because your Uncle Bill is really busy, and he doesn’t have time to care for a dog. Do you understand?”
Fiona nodded.
I’ll come back to visit. Those were the words she wanted to say, but they stayed inside her mouth. Fiona did not deserve idle promises. Not after losing both her parents. “I will find a violin teacher for you so you can take lessons if you want.”
Fiona put her fingers in her mouth and nodded again.
“Will you…” She swallowed hard against the tightening in her throat. “Will you hug your Uncle Bill for me? He loves you very much, and he needs a hug right now because his heart is sad. Can you do that?”
A small nod this time. Misty kissed her on the top of her head, a different pain added on top of the others when she realized how much she would miss Fiona too.
Before the tears could make it out of her eyes, she lurched out the door, Jellybean whining all the way to the car.
By the time she got behind the wheel, she’d decided that the town of Albatross was better seen in her rearview mirror. The next day, after a long rest and a quick packing job, she would leave all the heartache behind and do what she should have done a week before. Lawrence would or would not show up, and Todd Bannington would or would not pull his investment. She had been a fool to think she could influence either one. Maybe, deep down, she’d been using Lawrence as an excuse to stay in Albatross, near Bill.
It didn’t matter. Albatross would become part of her past, a note in her journal, a sweet strain of an unfinished melody.
Bill remained on his knees for the better part of a half hour, praying in confused fits and starts, pouring out the anguish in a tangle of entreaties.
Why? Why can’t I be the man I want to be? A man who could provide for Fiona and be a partner to Misty? He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d come to love Misty until the truth splashed out, burning like acid. In some sort of adolescent fantasy, he had begun to imagine a life shared with her, filled with her laughter, colored by her music, infused with her gentleness. And now he would have to reimagine his life without her.
The floor was hard on his knees, his fingers clenched until they were sore. The praying did not give him clarity or comfort, so he got to his feet.
The thoughts churned around in ruthless circles. What did you expect, Bill? That you could hide it forever? Or maybe you figured this time you’d learn to read? Finally, from a few practice worksheets and the help of your kid’s preschool teacher? What a chump.
His phone buzzed and he snatched at it, half hoping, half dreading that it might be Misty. He didn’t recognize the number, so he tossed the phone aside. He wanted to take off running, sprinting along the beach until he couldn’t muster another step. But he was a father, and his kid was waiting downstairs along with a business he’d invested his life in. There would be no running away this time.
“God, help me,” he asked one more time before he straightened and forced himself back downstairs.
Fiona caught him at the bottom step, grabbing him around the knees. Unable to speak for the pain and tenderness in his heart, he lifted her up and held her close to him. She grabbed his ears and pressed her forehead to his, saying without words all that she felt in her innocent heart.
Tears sprang into his eyes. I’m sorry you got me, his heart whispered. I’m sorry your parents died, and that I can’t be a better father like the one you lost. He clung to that little child who did not yet realize the truth, dreading the moment that it would all change and embracing each second of the love she offered.
The bell clanged. Jack Golding stepped in. Bill blinked hard and cleared his throat, Fiona still grasping each of his ears. Bill figured he probably looked ridiculous, but there was no way he was going to shake off Fiona for anyone, especially Jack.
“Oh, hey there,” Jack said. “This must be your daughter. She’s a cutie-pie.”
Bill didn’t correct him. “Looking for some chocolates?”
Jack smiled. “Just figured I could pick up a gift box or something.” His gaze took in the contents of the counter. “Vivian over at the hotel said Misty has been helping out here. I thought I might catch her.”
“Too late. She’s leaving,” Gunther put in.
Bill hid his surprise.
“Leaving the shop?”
“The town,” Gunther said. “She’s taking Jellybean and going home tomorrow.”
Of course she would. Bill had given her no reason to stay, and since there was zero hope of finding Lawrence, she would return to her quiet apartment. He swallowed hard.
Jack smiled. “And here I was hoping she would rethink her dinner plans. Todd wants to stay over until Friday and do a little fishing and see for himself if Lawrence is going to show up.”
“Guess you’ll have to eat by yourself,” Gunther said gruffly.
“Could be.” Jack waved a hand. “Pack me up a pound of your best chocolates, my man.”
Gunther pulled on a clean pair of vinyl gloves and began loading up a glossy white box.
“Hold on, better make that two pounds.” Jack winked at Fiona. “If Misty’s not leaving until tomorrow, I still have time.”
“Time for what?” Bill asked.
“Time to change her mind about dinner.” He paid for the candy and called out a cheerful goodbye as he left the shop with two pounds of Bill’s finest chocolates under his arm.
Bill fumed. “Guy like that doesn’t deserve a chance with Misty.”
Then again, he thought with a stab of pain, neither do I.
On a cloudy Tuesday morning, Misty tossed her duffel into the trunk and carefully secured her violin. She tried one more time to call Lawrence on his cell phone, but as before there was no answer. She saw that she had missed a call from Nana Bett, which she procrastinated about returning. How could she explain to Nana that her cinematic hero had run away like a petulant child and that Misty had been unable to do one thing about it? She thought it best to explain the situation in person as soon as she was safely away from Albatross.
Jellybean stuck his muzzle out the crack of the passenger side window, huffing in snootfuls of air.
“The apartment manager may just rescind his ‘pets allowed’ policy after a couple of weeks with you.” Mr. Jim had a soft spot for animals, but then again, he’d never met Jellybean, the fuzzy wrecking ball.
Though she meant to ke
ep her eyes firmly fixed on the road out of town, they drifted anyway to Chocolate Heaven and the neatly lettered chalkboard sign outside that advertised the Silver Screen Festival. Now she understood that Gunther must have written it all out for Bill. Did it hurt to watch him do it, or was Bill accustomed to being excluded from a world of letters he could not decipher?
Stop it, Misty. Things between you and Bill are over.
Unfinished, like Mozart’s incomparable Requiem. But someone had picked up the pieces of that score and finished the work. She hoped someone would come along for Bill, a woman with whom he felt he could fully share his life. It pained Misty that it had not been her.
Those green eyes and that rich laughter. Would she ever drive them from her heart? She’d done it with Jack, hadn’t she? But Bill was so very different, embedded deeper in her soul and mind than she’d ever thought possible.
She was about to make the turn toward the highway when out of the corner of her eye a block away she saw Vivian Buckley directing a truck as it backed up into the side lot of the Lady Bird property.
Vivian Buckley.
She’d shared a deep connection with Lawrence, and for all of Vivian’s angry protestations, Misty suspected there might be some remnants of affection smoldering deep down.
“You don’t suppose…” she said, earning a look from Jellybean. “I mean, if he’s trying to reconnect his wires or whatever it is he’s about, maybe he might have given Vivian a call.”
Jellybean cocked his head and barked twice.
“All right. We’ll give it one last, quick effort, but you will not be harassing Tinka, do you understand me?”
The dog barked again. Was that a canine yes or no? Just to be safe, she tied Jellybean’s new ultrastrong leash around a sturdy elm that shaded the front of the property, earning herself a derogatory look from the dog, which she ignored. It would take him a good while to chew through that restraint, so she figured a quick stop would be okay.
The Lady Bird’s charming backyard was undergoing a face-lift for the festival as two workers unloaded several round tables and white chairs under Vivian’s strict supervision. Tinka came over and sniffed lethargically at Misty’s shoes.
“What’s the matter, Tinka?” Misty asked, giving her a scratch. You seem down in the dumps today.”
Vivian walked over and scooped her up, looking around suspiciously.
“Don’t worry. I tied Jellybean up.”
“Good. I don’t need any more dog trouble. Tinka has been moping around for the last few months, right about the time Lawrence showed up.”
“What’s got her down?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s her thyroid. She’s put on a little weight.”
Misty figured if she was anything like Jellybean, she’d been happily helping herself to tidbits from the kitchen, though none of the extra calories ever seemed to stick on Jellybean.
“I’ll take her to Doc Benson soon, but I’ve been putting it off, honestly, because she doesn’t like going there. The man could stand a lesson or two in bedside manner.” She sniffed.
“Ah.” Misty realized she’d run out of small talk and it was time to work her way to the point, but she was unsure exactly how to go about it. “Uh…setting up for the Silver Screen Festival?”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Yes, though it might be a whole lot of trouble for nothing. There’s a storm in the forecast. I have four tables booked for the Silver Screen Tea, and all that money will need to be refunded if you-know-who doesn’t show.”
“That’s why I’m here, actually. I’ve been having some trouble tracking down Lawrence, and it occurred to me that maybe he might call you.”
She goggled at Misty. “Me?”
Misty had obviously thought wrong. So much for keen detective reasoning. “Yes. It was just a thought.”
“And just why do you suppose he would do such a thing?”
Misty’s face went hot with embarrassment. “Well, um, you two knew each other quite well before he got famous.”
“Yes,” she said bitterly. “And once he got what he wanted, what he craved more than anything else, he dumped me and never looked back.”
“I think maybe he got what he thought he wanted, but he’s not so sure anymore.”
Vivian’s mouth twitched as she thought it over, fingers absently stroking Tinka. “We used to talk about his dreams while we ate bologna sandwiches on the beach. Back then I was always a part of those dreams. ‘When I hit the big time, Vee, we’re gonna see the world together,’ he would say.” She sighed. “I never wanted to see the world anyway. I just wanted to make a home, but Lawrence never really knew what a home was in the first place, so I guess that was my big mistake.” Misery nestled in her eyes, and Misty knew Vivian’s love story was left unfinished too.
“I’m sorry,” Misty said.
Vivian’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “You know, the funny thing is, I’m the one who loved the real Lawrence. And everyone else, all those adoring fans, they don’t even know him.” She twirled a lock of Tinka’s silky hair. “Love and adoration are different. That’s another thing Lawrence never understood.”
Maybe he is beginning to, Misty thought. It occurred to Misty then that the true blessing was to know someone, truly know them, and love them, warts and all.
Like Bill knew her? Like she wanted to know him? She fought down a sudden clog in her throat.
“Anyway,” Vivian said, hefting Tinka more securely, “I’ve got a million details to attend to for this ill-fated festival, so if you’ll excuse me.”
Misty was left alone with the workers, watching them unload for a party she was beginning to seriously doubt would ever happen.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she whirled around.
“Just my luck,” Jack said, beaming. “I was getting ready to call you after my breakfast with Todd. I called yesterday too, but you didn’t pick up.”
She hadn’t even heard the call. Her head was too full of clattering emotions after Bill ended things.
The annoying heat suffused her face, which she knew meant she was blushing madly as he stared at her. “Oh. Well. Here I am.” Brilliant repartee, Misty.
“Yes, here you are, still in town. I want you to have dinner with me.”
“I don’t think that will work, Jack. I’m on my way back to San Francisco right now.”
“But you’ll be back, I’ve heard. I’d make it lunch, but I’ve got more talks with the movie people.”
“Um…”
“Let me ask you, now that we’re away from the set. Is Tucker really returning?”
Her heart thudded. “Uh, why would you ask? Is Todd having doubts?”
“Just a feeling I’m getting, though Vivian tells me you know Lawrence pretty well.”
“I wouldn’t say well exactly…”
“So the truth then. Is Tucker AWOL or what?”
“I, uh…um, what did Vivian say?”
“She said you’re going to bring him back on Friday.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. She said the town is banking on it.”
Banking on it. Banking on her.
“That’s the plan. For sure.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was painted with a coat of shiny optimism she did not feel.
“Since you’ll definitely be around on Friday, we can book dinner for then if today doesn’t work.”
Sucking in a deep breath, she screwed up her courage. “I don’t think so, Jack,” she said, stepping back a pace.
He sighed. “I understand. I’m not that dense. I know I hurt you when I broke things off. I don’t have the right to push my way back into your life, and I’m not trying to, but at least let me buy you dinner and talk. I miss your friendship, Misty.”
And the truth was she’d missed his too until she’d met Bill. Jack was handsome, yes, the same charming man she’d been gaga for. He hadn’t changed a bit.
But she had. Same square peg in a round-hole world, but lately it didn’t seem to bother her q
uite so much.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to have dinner.”
He sighed. “Okay. I get it. But if you change your mind, I’ll be at the Lady Bird on Friday night since Lawrence is supposed to kick things off with a speech here. Maybe I’ll see you after all.” He touched her arm and walked away.
A speech? Friday? Cold prickles raced up her arms.
The town is banking on it.
What exactly was she supposed to do about that?
Seventeen
Bill looked at the worksheets until his eyes burned. It started out like it always did, clear and understandable, the way the letter B curved around like a fat man with his belt cinched in, Dina told him when she’d run out of more adult language. Then the A and the rest of the letters that he learned spelled the word barn. He knew it, he understood that those four letters together in that order always said barn, but for some reason his eyes had to be convinced every time he saw the words. Or perhaps it was his brain. He wasn’t sure why he was practicing anyway.
’Cuz maybe someday, some way, you’re gonna learn to read, you big dope. Or possibly that stubborn spark of hope would eventually die. It would be kinder if he would just stop hoping, trying, banging his thick head against an impenetrable wall, but deep down he half believed he’d find that teacher who could crack through his thick cloud of slowness.
But that teacher wouldn’t be Dina, and he could not let it be Misty. The thought of her shocked face when she’d understood his illiteracy still made him hot with shame. He read the word three more times, just to be sure, before he put the papers back in their spot on the old, battered desk.
He was relieved that Fiona seemed relatively relaxed for the preschool drop-off. It was like Misty said—she seemed to have let go of the whole winter recital fiasco. He wished he could do the same. Still, he tried to plaster on the friendly guy smile as he kissed Fiona on the top of the head and she walked hesitantly toward the book corner.
