Then He Kissed Me

by Maria Geraci

  “What was she like in high school?”

  He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know who “she” was. “She was a cheerleader and very popular.”

  “Oh, that type, huh?”

  “If you’re asking if she was a snob, then I’d say no. She was smart and…artistic.” They’d been in the same art class their senior year. Nate would had preferred another class to fulfill his last elective credit but it was the only class that didn’t interfere with AP physics. He’d barely passed art with a C, the only one he’d ever gotten in his entire school career. Lauren, on the other hand, had been a natural. She wielded a charcoal pencil the way most surgeons hope to wield a knife. Her class portfolio had been full of pictures of dresses and hats and purses. High fashion kind of stuff. He remembered being impressed by her talent.

  At the end of the semester there had been an art show and she’d won first place. But instead of clapping, her mother had upbraided her for not standing up straight enough at the podium. “Lauren, don’t slouch!” she’d cried. Everyone had heard it. She hadn’t been mean about it. It was more like a perfunctory kind of thing. Like when your mother told you to eat all your vegetables or to drive slower. But Lauren had instantly turned red. She’d also straightened back her shoulders like a good little soldier. Nate had felt sorry for her that night. Which had been absurd. The class nerd feeling sorry for the beautiful blonde cheerleader.

  He shrugged. “Like Lauren told you last night, we didn’t know each other that well.”

  “I bet she’s sorry now,” Jessica said. “If she knew then that you’d become this hot doctor, I bet she would have been nicer to you.”

  “She was nice enough. Can we talk about something else now?” Or better yet, can we not talk at all?

  “I was thinking…maybe this whole weekend was a test,” Jessica said. She reached over and placed her palm on the inside of his thigh.

  “What are you doing?”

  She giggled. “If you have to ask then I guess I’m not doing it right.” She ran her hand down to cup him. Normally, he would have gotten an instant hard on. But all he felt was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he was a kid who’d eaten too much cotton candy at the fair.

  “Do you want me to get in an accident?” he said, before calmly taking her hand and removing it from his balls.

  Her face crumpled. “Didn’t last night mean anything to you?”

  “Which part? The part when you turned down my proposal? Or the part when you said it was best if we didn’t see each other anymore?”

  “The part when we made love! God, Nate, I don’t know about you, but last night was pretty fantastic as far as I’m concerned.”

  After they’d gotten home from the restaurant, Jessica had made a big production of going into the guest room to sleep. She said that their relationship was over, and he accepted that, because, what other recourse did he have? He’d fallen asleep, only to be awakened by a naked Jessica sucking on his dick. She said she wanted one more memory of them together. So he’d given in, because at the time it had been physically impossible not to. But now he was beginning to think he should have manned up and tossed her out of his bed.

  He turned into the airport and pulled his car into the lane for departing flights. He got out and retrieved her weekend bag from the back seat then handed it to her. “I really have no clue what you want from me, Jessica.”

  “And therein lies the problem.” She shook her head sadly. “One day you’re going to wake up and realize that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you. I just hope for both our sakes, that it won’t be too late.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and walked inside the airport.

  Maybe he should feel sad. It seemed like the appropriate response to having one’s girlfriend break up with you. But curiously, what he felt was…relief.

  Lauren finished packing Henry’s lunch, turned off the coffee pot, and stuffed her art pad into her work tote. “Henry!” she cried. “We have less than five minutes to get to school.”

  Henry came barreling into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a University of Florida sweatshirt, snatched his lunch sack off the counter and turned around just in time to catch the apple she tossed him. A couple of seconds later she threw a granola bar at him. He caught that, too.

  “Hey, we could be a circus act. Breakfast is in the car this morning. Chop, chop, let’s go!”

  “Thanks, Ma.” He grinned and went to work on the apple, taking nearly half of it with one bite.

  Ma. It was the new term he used for her lately. When he’d been little, she’d been Mommy. Then there was the Mom phase. Now she was Ma. Lauren wondered what he’d call her when he got to high school.

  They got in the car and buckled themselves into their seats. Henry’s legs were so long now that he had to adjust the seat to the farthest setting in order to be comfortable. Next month he’d turn twelve and he was already just a couple inches shy of six feet. Both she and Tom were blonde and blue-eyed, so it had been almost a given that Henry would have their coloring as well, but he’d inherited Tom’s jaw line and his deep set eyes, making him more his father’s son than hers. He’d come home last night from a father-son camping trip talking non-stop about how many fish he’d caught and how Tom had taught him to make a fire using just flint.

  Everything lately was soccer and fishing. And Tom. Lauren was happy that Henry had a good relationship with his father, but at the same time she was beginning to wonder if maybe good ’ol Ma was being phased out.

  “Can I eat at Dad’s tonight? He’s going to show Allie how to cook fish,” Henry asked. “You could come, too. Allie said you’re always welcome.”

  “Sure you can eat at your dad’s. But I think I’ll take a rain check on that fish.”

  Allie Grant, Tom’s fiancé, was a sweetheart and Lauren was thrilled how well Henry blended into their relationship, but at the same time she didn’t want to intrude. Maybe she’d go over to the house and eat with Momma and Daddy tonight. She’d done some research on memory retention exercises and she was anxious to see how Daddy responded to them.

  She dropped Henry off at school, then drove over to the shop. Can Buy Me Love was a dream come true for Lauren. In high school, her plan had been to study Fashion Merchandising. But when she found herself pregnant the summer before college, she and Tom got married, and Momma thought Elementary Education was a more practical major. After she and Tom graduated from The University of Florida, they moved to Atlanta, where Tom’s career in Construction Management had taken off. Lauren taught first grade for two years, then quit to be a stay-at-home mom. In between running Henry to play dates and volunteering at school, Lauren doodled on her sketch pad, designing the kinds of dresses she’d always loved. Retro looks. Dresses from the fifties and sixties. She even sewed a few of her designs and had sold them to some local boutiques.

  But then came the divorce and she moved back to Whispering Bay so she could help her parents. She had briefly considered going back to her former profession—teaching. But her heart wasn’t in it. So she’d bitten the bullet and fulfilled a life-long goal—she’d opened a vintage clothing store. Her daddy helped front some of the money it had taken to start the business, but Lauren had paid him back every cent with her share of the profits after she and Tom sold the house they’d owned in Atlanta. Unhappy with being a long-distance parent, Tom had moved back to Whispering Bay, which had worked out wonderfully. Although she had primary custody of Henry, Tom spent way more time with their son than the obligatory every other weekend. It was a good situation for everyone.

  Monday mornings were always the slowest day at the shop and Lauren usually took advantage by not coming in until it was time to open, which wasn’t until ten. But she’d had a busy Saturday and had left the place a little disorganized so she wanted to get an early start to her week. Lauren worked every day of the week, except for Sundays when the shop was closed. She had one employee, Dhara, a recent college grad who’d maj
ored in marketing and was still looking for a job in her field. Dhara’s hours were flexible but Lauren couldn’t afford her more than a few hours each afternoon and on Saturdays.

  She pulled her car behind the shop and used her key to get in the back door, flipping on lights as she went. As per her routine, one of the first things she did was turn on the record player. She’d found the old turn table six months ago at a garage sale, complete with about a dozen or so vinyl records. The record player hadn’t worked initially, but Tom had carefully cleaned it, restoring it to life. It had turned out that the albums and the record player had once belonged to Barbara Alvarez, Allie’s deceased grandmother. Lauren couldn’t explain how it happened, but those old records had a hand in getting Allie and Tom together.

  She flipped through the albums and selected Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Soon, the sounds of This Boy’s In Love began floating through the shop. Lauren couldn’t help but hum along. She loved old music, especially this stuff from the sixties. It gave a certain air of authenticity to the shop, plus the customers loved listening to it.

  Since she was here, she went ahead and unlocked the front door, propping it open with a heavy metal door opener. It was cool outside, but not as cold as it had been yesterday. A gentle breeze wafted in from the gulf, making it perfect weather to air out the store. Although Can Buy Me Love didn’t officially open for another two hours, she went ahead and flipped the door sign to signal the shop was open for business. The Bistro by the Beach next door was hopping as usual, and you never knew when one of their customers might pass by and decide to check out her place. Lauren never turned away customers. If there was someone in the store at six p.m., their normal closing hour, then she kept the shop open until they left. In the vintage clothing business, one had to stay flexible if you wanted to put food on the table.

  She checked out the window display where two mannequins dressed in bell bottom jeans and ponchos stood staring at one another as if they were mingling at a party. Ponchos were perfect for the mild Florida winter. Lauren had about a dozen in the shop. She’d sold three on Saturday, and was confident the rest would go, too. She just had to sell her customers on it. At the bottom of the store window was a homemade poster with a picture of Mimi. MIMI GRANT FOR WHISPERING BAY MAYOR was stenciled in large black letters at the top.

  She picked up Saturday’s mail off the counter and sorted through the usual bills and promotional materials. She stopped cold when she got to an official looking envelope with Waterbury Real Estate as the return address. It was the name of the company who oversaw the lease on her shop.

  Lauren’s ears began to pound. She’d been a little late with her rent before, but never late enough to get a notice from the company. She’d paid early this month so there shouldn’t be any problems, but it was still a little nerve-wracking. She ripped open the envelope and quickly read the letter. Basically, the company was informing her that there would be a building inspector coming by next week. There was also a set of directions for how to contact him and set up a mutually agreeable time.

  A building inspector?

  Since there was no one in the shop, she tucked the letter into her pocket and went next door to The Bistro by the Beach, Whispering Bay’s premier coffee house. The Bistro was owned by Frida Hampton, a friend of Lauren’s. They’d met last year when Lauren had moved back to town after her divorce. Frida was also a good friend of Mimi’s, as well as a member of the Bunco Babes, a popular Bunco group in town. The Babes met every Thursday night to roll dice, drink frozen margaritas, and gossip. Lauren was the group’s number one sub and at the top of the list to join as a permanent member.

  The little café was hopping, as usual, which made Lauren happy. She adored Frida (and not just because Frida gave her free coffee). Frida had begun her business from scratch. According to her, she’d made plenty of mistakes along the way, but with some financial advice from her sister, she’d turned into a savvy businesswoman. Frida had taken Lauren under her wing and Lauren had come to view her as a mentor. Frida’s husband, Ed, a local artist, helped her run the place. His studio was located on the second floor and customers were encouraged to climb the stairs to peruse his artwork.

  Lauren took a moment to take in the scene in front of her. The walls were covered in brightly painted murals (courtesy of Ed) depicting the area’s natural marine life. Dolphins and swordfish and sand dunes added to The Bistro’s enviable location directly on the gulf. In contrast to the sixties music that Lauren played in her shop, here the stereo system blared anything from Bruce Springsteen to Maroon Five to Adele, and of course, a more than occasional Jimmy Buffet tune. Along with the usual number of tourists, Lauren recognized Rusty Newton, a member of Whispering Bay’s police force, as well as several members of the Gray Flamingoes, the town’s senior citizen activist group.

  “Lauren!” Frida waved to her from behind the counter. Frida’s curly red hair was pulled back in a bandana. She wore the cafe’s signature sky blue T-shirt with the logo Got Coffee? Ed was there, too, working the counter, along with Tom’s fiancé, Allie.

  Allie, a freelance journalist, had moved back to town three months ago to investigate a story and had ended up staying to help resurrect the town’s newspaper, The Whispering Bay Gazette. She worked the early morning shift at The Bistro to make extra money. Allie’s brother, Zeke, was the town’s chief of police, as well as Mimi’s husband. Yep. Six degrees of separation was more like one degree in Whispering Bay.

  Allie finished with a customer, then beckoned Lauren over to her counter. She wore the same company T-shirt that Frida sported. The blue color complimented her dark hair and eyes. With a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and all that long hair pulled back in a ponytail, Allie looked more like a high school senior than a thirty-year-old woman. But then there was that body of hers. Long legs and an elegant neck and those big brown eyes. She was an Audrey Hepburn look alike. She and Tom were going to make gorgeous babies. Lauren wasn’t jealous (well, except for those legs). She’d love to have ten minutes alone with Allie in her shop. There was simply so much she could do with all that. But Allie was more into jeans and cowboy boots than vintage clothing. She greeted Lauren with a big smile. “Hey! You’re at it early this morning.”

  “You know the saying, the early bird catches the worm,” Lauren said. The problem was, it didn’t seem to matter how many hours she put into the shop. Business was business. And except for last Saturday’s fluke, business was unbearably slow. She tried not to think about it.

  “The usual?”

  Lauren nodded. The usual was a medium chai tea, no sugar. “I hear you’re cooking fish tonight.”

  Allie made a face. “Want to live on the edge? You’re welcome to join us. More than welcome. I have a feeling I’m going to need some backup.” She handed Lauren her tea.

  “Don’t worry, I have complete faith in you.” She remembered the letter in her pocket. “I need to go pick Frida’s brain. Thanks for the invitation, though.”

  Allie smiled and went on to help the next customer. Lauren sat down at the last available table by the water and motioned to Frida. “What’s up?” Frida asked, joining her a few minutes later.

  “Sorry to interrupt during the breakfast rush, but do you a have a minute?” Lauren pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to her friend.

  Frida read the letter. “It looks like maybe the owner is getting ready to sell. How much time is left on your lease?”

  “My lease expires in October.”

  Frida studied the letter once more. “Or it could mean that they’re thinking of doing some renovations.” She folded the letter and handed it back to Lauren. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Either way, even if they sell the place the owner will more than likely keep leasing to you. As long as I’ve been here, that building has been prime rental property. Just call them and find out.”

  Lauren nodded. That made sense. She paid a pretty penny to lease that building. More than she could afford, really, but li
ke Frida said, the location was excellent. The majority of her customers were either tourists or wealthy locals who wanted to visit a shop with some panache. Being right on the water and next door to The Bistro were two big bonuses she didn’t want to give up. She’d love to buy the building herself. She had a trust fund, one that had been set up for her by her grandfather, but she was reluctant to touch it. For one thing, it was her nest egg. The money she could count on if anything were to ever go wrong.

  She’d been living on the money from the sale on the house in Atlanta, but that was going to run out soon. Tom provided generous child support for Henry, and he wanted to pay her alimony, but Lauren had refused. Her parents were always offering to help as well. But it was important to Lauren that she make it on her own. The way Frida had. And she couldn’t justify buying the building until the business was turning a regular profit. She was lucky enough to have the trust fund, but she also had an obligation to not squander the money given to her.

  The reality of it, though, was that unless every day was like last Saturday, her little shop wasn’t going to make it till October. And then what? She could go back to teaching or she could live off the interest from her trust fund. Neither option was horrible, but they both smacked of failure in her mind.

  Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Momma. “It’s my mom. Sorry, but I need to take this. Thanks for the advice,” Lauren told Frida. “I’ll call the realty company when I get a chance.”

  “Don’t forget we need to get together and talk about Mimi’s next fundraiser. Bruce Bailey just got a big contribution from the country club and we need to squash him and his elitist bugs before they get the jump on us.”

  “Will do,” Lauren promised. She waited till Frida had left the table then answered her phone. “Hey, Momma.”

  “Oh, thank God! Your Daddy is having one of his fits. Please, Lauren, I need you right now.”