“I’m excited about it. It’ll be something to do, and it’s been a long time since I’ve worked. It feels good,” she admitted. “I think if the editor at the paper is interested, I’ll do some other pieces while I’m here.”
“That’s a splendid idea.”
Natalie glanced at the picture of Mozart. “It’s a simple idea. Some people would say these stories are trite, Nana. They’re not challenging or groundbreaking, compared to what I used to do. No money in it either.”
Anna walked over to the desk and put her hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “I know you did important work overseas. But do you not see there is nothing trite about what you are doing here? Mozart’s story is not a lesser one.”
Natalie placed her hand over her grandmother’s.
“It’s a story of home, Natalie, and of the people who touch our lives every day. Such are stories that define our lives and our place in this world,” Anna said. “It is in small stories that we find our truth.”
“Oh, Nana, that’s beautiful,” Natalie whispered as her eyes misted.
“I think I may have possibly plagiarized Tolkien.”
Natalie sighed as she looked at Mozart’s image. He was definitely a party guy, but he did have a serious mission. “He had a twin sister. She was eight when she was diagnosed with leukemia, and she died five years later. He’s very involved with fund-raising for childhood leukemia, and one wall in the office at his shop is covered with pictures of leukemia patients at St. Jude. He takes toys over there and visits the kids.
“He made me promise that I’d include his sister in the story as well as the importance of donating to St. Jude and the Childhood Leukemia Foundation.”
“I’m certain you’ll do him justice.”
“Look at this.” Natalie clicked the mouse and produced a shot of a shirtless Mozart propped against the hood of Bad Boy. Wearing sunglasses, he had his head turned to the left, as she had directed. “I’m gonna be responsible for a lot of hormones going wild in this town.”
“Natalie,” Anna scolded, and Natalie laughed.
Anna stroked her hair. “It’s good to hear your laugh, and your hair is beautiful. Such a lovely color.”
“Thank you, Nana.”
“I have something to tell you. I’m certain it’s going to surprise you.”
“What is it?”
“I spoke with Doctor Harris today at his clinic, and he’s going to take care of this heart issue I have.”
Natalie gasped as she wheeled around in the chair. “Nana! Seriously?”
“Dear, I know my family has been overly worried about me, and I know that everyone was trying to be clever when it came to Doctor Harris showing up here as your friend.”
With a sigh, Natalie lowered her chin. “I’m sorry, Nana.”
“Nonsense.” Anna patted her shoulder. “I don’t want you to be sorry about anything, my sweet. Actually, I have felt poorly for a while, and I probably should have done something sooner.” She smiled at Natalie. “Thanks to you, I met Doctor Harris, and that may have saved my life.” She showed her the Holter monitor she wore.
Natalie stood and gave her grandmother a hug. “Nana, I love you, and I know you’ll do fine. Brett is a good doctor.”
“I think so,” Anna agreed. “But I do want you to know that if I die during that procedure, I’m coming back and haunting everyone.”
Natalie wouldn’t put that past her grandmother. “When are you going to have it done?”
“I’m not sure of the date yet. I have to have some tests done beforehand. It’ll probably be a couple of weeks. I told Doctor Harris that after Thanksgiving would be best.” She glanced at Mozart’s image on the computer screen.
“To be young again.” She turned to Natalie. “You and Doctor Harris enjoy this weekend together. He has a lot to celebrate,” she said with a wink and headed toward the door. “At my age, after a round of golf, a bubble bath is a priceless experience.”
“At your age, you’re totally amazing, Nana.”
Natalie sat at the desk. She clicked the mouse, and Mozart’s picture was replaced by another photograph. This time, she was in the picture. With the barn in the background, she was posed beside Cathy, her hand on the hood of the red Camaro.
It is in small stories that we find our truth.
Natalie looked at herself. A girl who had gone in search of Camelot. Hers was a small story of a dream that she had beheld for a fraction of time. Was it real or not? An illusion or the truth? She didn’t know. She just knew it was gone.
Her phone chimed, and she turned in the desk chair to scoop it off an end table. She had a message from Amber.
Here’s the link to Cathy the Camaro’s Facebook Page. It’s awesome! She already has a hundred likes. All guys! BWAHAHA!
Natalie clicked on the link and laughed as she saw that Amber had put the caption on the header photograph of Cathy parked on Mozart’s strip. The caption read, “I’m Cathy. A fun, fast girl, and I’m all about free rides.” Cathy’s likes were up to two hundred twenty-three.
Amber had posted several pictures in the timeline section, including one of the Camaro parked beside Mozart’s Mustang entitled “Me and My Boyfriend.” Next was “Me and My Friends,” which included a photograph at Mozart’s shop. Natalie, Amber, and Mozart stood in front of Cathy.
Amber had posted other photographs. An image of the tires was titled “My Wheels.” And she had posted one of the Camaro’s hood popped up, with Mozart and another guy checking out the motor, which she had captioned “Guys looking at my stuff.” There were already ten responses to that picture, including one from Mozart, saying, “Hot stuff.”
Natalie gasped when she saw a picture Amber had taken of her, just before she’d gotten inside the Camaro. Her hair looked really good. She stood with her hand on the top of the car, and above the photograph, Amber had posted, “This is my mom, and she loves me a lot.” A couple of guys had responded, wanting to know Mom’s phone number. I’m leaving that alone.
She sent Amber a text. Great job! She added an emoji that was rolling around laughing.
Then she decided to send Brett the link to Cathy’s page. She had received a text from him earlier saying that he had a lot going on with a couple of patients at the hospital, but that he wanted to talk to her and he would call later. Now she knew why he wanted to talk to her.
Everything had changed. Her stubborn grandmother had relented when it came to medical treatment. She hadn’t yielded just because of Brett, but he had helped facilitate her decision. He had proved himself a winner again.
Back at the computer, she stared at a blank document screen and typed in Nana’s words.
It is in the small stories that we find our truth. Her fingers rested on the keyboard as she thought of Brett. The boy from Trinity Road, who had no parents and no future. He had refused to settle for a life that was second best. What was he trying so hard to prove? That he was worth loving? Was that Brett’s truth?
She stared at the screen for a moment. Then she reached for her phone on the desk and sent him a brief message.
I’m very happy for you, Brett. First place is where you belong. She added the image of a blue ribbon and sent it.
For a moment, she sat quietly as melancholy surrounded her heart. Now that Nana had agreed to medical treatment, there would be no reason for Brett to hang out at the house. His mission was accomplished, and she was certain he wouldn’t be interested in the company of a girl he considered an underachiever. No matter how much he denied that now, she knew she’d never measure up in his eyes. Once a slacker, always a slacker.
She was easygoing, patient, artistic. She wanted to embrace those traits again now that her life was no longer so hectic. Simplicity was a good thing. Her idea of a perfect moment was sitting in the woods, doing nothing but listening to birds sing and the rush of a waterfall. Of course, that would drive Brett crazy. He wouldn’t last two minutes.
She clicked through photographs until she found the pictur
es Mozart had emailed her of his sister before her illness. Natalie studied the photograph of a little girl running across a grassy field, her long black hair caught in the breeze. A little girl named Nora had left behind a twin brother who still honored her memory in the best way possible.
She reached for the mouse and split the screen, with Mozart on one side and his sister on the other. The symbolism was there. She manipulated the photographs and created a faded background from the photograph of Mozart’s sister running in the field. She placed Mozart beside his Mustang in the foreground.
Grabbing a notepad, Natalie scribbled down her thoughts. The only race he wants to win is the one his sister lost. Good, she decided. Simple but eloquent. She underlined her note as she considered the angle. This would not be a story about a sexy guy nicknamed Mozart and fast cars. It would be about Nora and her twin brother, Nick, and how her legacy lived on through him.
Natalie had been making notes and marking stuff out for about an hour when her phone vibrated. She read a brief message from Brett. I’m out front in my car. I need to speak to you.
Don’t you want to come in?
No.
She frowned. Why didn’t he want to come in? Ever since Harry and Sheldon had promised to make his dreams come true, he had been practically camping out in her grandmother’s house. There had been no getting rid of him. But now that he was preening with success, he couldn’t be bothered to come in?
I’ll be out in a minute. I was just getting in the shower. She sent him the text. Mr. Self-Important Asshole could wait. She took a leisurely stroll up the stairs. She had been thinking about taking a quick shower. Why not now?
She laughed as she heard her phone jingling as the hot water pounded her muscles. It sucks to be Type A. After she got out of the shower, she removed the plastic shower cap and fluffed her dry hair. Still looking good.
After she had slipped on her bathrobe, she retrieved her phone off a decorative wicker shelf and read his message. He wanted to know how much longer she would be.
She padded across the hall to her bedroom and took a moment to answer him.
Soon. I’m trying to find something to wear.
She prowled around in the closet. Deciding what to wear was always time-consuming. She’d found a cute dress in the attic. But she didn’t want to put on a dress. It was chilly outside. Maybe jeans. No. Something comfortable. The new soft pants she hadn’t worn yet, made of black crêpe with a drawstring waist. And black slippers with a silver bow.
Finally, she chose a dark purple tunic sweater. One of her favorites. Where were her purple earrings? She dug black undies out of a dresser drawer.
A new message arrived on her phone. Have you found something to wear?
Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.
After she had gotten dressed, she sat down at the vanity and touched up her makeup. She looked in the mirror and gave her hair a toss, doing her best Miss Piggy imitation before she headed downstairs.
“Natalie.” Clara stopped her at the bottom of the stairs. She had a margarita in her hand. Natalie was beginning to wonder if Clara and Anna were a little too fond of margaritas.
“What is Doctor Harris doing outside sitting in his car?” Clara asked.
Natalie shrugged. “He’s waiting on me.”
Clara smiled merrily. “I made a fresh batch of those peanut butter cookies he loves. Take him a couple.”
Carrying a freezer bag containing peanut butter cookies, Natalie hurried across the front porch as the cold night breeze sent a chill through her body. Winter was on its way. She rushed to the white BMW humming in the drive and opened the passenger’s side door.
The soft leather of the bucket seat embraced her body. She shut the car door, glad to be out of the cold. The interior of the car was dark except for the glow of the dash, and Brett sat angled in her direction with his arm draped over the steering wheel. She felt an uptick in her pulse, and she reminded herself she should not be thinking about having sex with him. But some things couldn’t be helped.
“Hello,” she said, thinking she sounded a bit like Adele. “You should have come inside. We would’ve had a toast to your success.”
He shifted, and a shaft of light from the lamppost exposed a scowl that had etched deep lines between his brows. “I thought you were talking about the composer.”
Frowning in confusion, she asked, “What composer?”
“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. That composer.”
She blinked. It took her a moment, and then she gasped, “No. Not that Mozart.” She gave her head a shake to emphasize her words. “The one who builds the cars. Nick. I met him today.” She didn’t mention Mozart’s pretty eyes or his great ass. “He couldn’t believe I was driving your car. He said that was a first.”
“It’s gonna be a last.”
“I take it you’re pissed off for some reason?”
He reached for the small computer tablet stuck in a console pocket. He tapped the screen, and it displayed Cathy’s Facebook page. Natalie leaned toward him to get a look at the page.
“Look at that! Six hundred and four likes so far. Go, Cathy!”
He glared at her as he scrolled down the screen. “Yeah, well, Mom, I know where this picture was taken.”
He showed her the photograph of her about to get inside the Camaro at Mozart’s strip. The one Amber had called “Me and My Mom.”
“Thirty comments.” She was dying to read them. She wondered if any of them said anything about her hair.
“Natalie,” Brett snapped. “You were at the Strip. Mozart shouldn’t have taken you there.” He laid the tablet on the console. “I’ve been around cars and racing all my life. I know the risks. The Strip is no place for a novice.”
“I didn’t race Cathy. I didn’t even drive her very fast.” Of course, that depended on what you considered fast. “I parked Cathy by a barn and took some pictures of her. She was never in any danger.”
“I’m not worried about the car,” he shot back.
“Brett, compared to Baghdad, the Strip is a safe zone.”
“Oh, shit, I forgot you were a Navy Seal or something.” He stared out the driver’s side window as the breeze swept leaves across the lawn. Was he sulking?
She gave his leg a slap. “Could you be more grumpy? Clara sent you some peanut butter cookies. You should have one.” She put the bag of cookies on the dash.
“You need to stay away from Mozart.”
“I thought you and Mozart were friends.”
“That friendship is a little strained right now.” He grasped the steering wheel. “I should go,” he announced as if he were talking to himself. “It’s been a long day.”
He hadn’t mentioned her grandmother or the position at the hospital. He didn’t even seem to be thinking about that. She glanced at the tablet displaying a photograph of her, Amber, and Mozart beside Cathy. She wondered if Brett was jealous of Mozart. No way.
“I’m not interested in Mozart.”
“Then I guess me and Mo are in the same boat,” he retorted.
“Not really.” She reached over and rested her hand on the sleeve of his jacket, the brown leather soft beneath her fingers and the ache inside her real. She was making a concession. One that was deliberate, but not necessarily calculated. She wanted to be with him.
Fleetingly, she recalled all the promises she had made herself. Morning always comes, and it is never good, and she knew that. She trailed her fingers across his jaw. She could easily come up with a dozen reasons she should open the car door and get out. But it was as if she wanted to take the farce they had been living and make it a reality for a little while.
She moved closer to him. Gusts of warm air flowed from the heater vents as the motor hummed. She liked how she felt inside. Alive. Excited. Passionate. There was no right or wrong to it. Just a yearning that needed to be fulfilled.
She pressed her lips against his throat and tasted his salty flesh. It was a little like stealing a chocolate out of the b
ox while reassuring yourself that just one wouldn’t hurt.
“Take me home with you,” she whispered as her lips grazed his. “Moi will put a smile on your face, Grumpy.”
Chapter 15
Natalie pulled her mouth from his as they stumbled into his bedroom. Recessed lights in the ceiling cast a soft glow in the corners of the spacious room, which looked as if it belonged in the pages of a home décor magazine.
“Wow,” she said as she looked around the bedroom with its taupe walls, dark brick-red damask draperies, and a stone fireplace. Although the oversize cherry bedroom furnishings were new, they featured turned legs, scrolled vines, and the shell engravings often seen on seventeenth-century designs. A gilt-framed mirror hung over the dresser, and a luxurious gold-and-red baroque comforter set covered the king-size bed. On the dresser, a wireless speaker whispered instrumental music, while a faint minty scent came from an unlit candle.
“This is your bedroom?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket. A grin played at the corners of his mouth as he dropped his jacket across the back of a dark red armchair. “As you can see, I have excellent decorating skills.”
“You hired an interior decorator.” She looked at the stained-glass artwork hanging over the fireplace.
He caught her hand and pulled her over to the bed. “Actually, all this came with the house. The people who sold the house let some of the furniture and stuff go with it. They were moving across country and left it behind.”
“I think you have a beautiful home.” When he had turned the car into Lyndhurst Estates, she had been impressed by the new, upscale neighborhood, and the updated classic French exterior of his home created a feeling of graciousness.
She thought of Trinity Road and the small, frame house with the torn screen door and sagging porch. Brett had transcended that legacy. Although his ambitious nature gave her pause, she didn’t begrudge him his success.
Circling her arms around his back, she hugged her body to his. “I’m happy.”
“Me too.” He bracketed her face with his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
Everything His Heart Desires Page 16
