Mr. Campbell nodded and turned away.
For a moment, the look on Mrs. Campbell’s face changed from bland indifference to sheer panic. The poor dear needed something, but Blythe was sure no one on Earth could have given the woman what she so badly desired.
Mrs. Campbell swallowed and the mask of practiced detachment fell over her features once more. “Thank you.”
Blythe watched them turn the corner and shook her head. This couple might prove to be a difficult one. Still, she had faith that Blythe Cove Manor would work its magic on them.
To save their marriage, it had to.
3
A plaque graced the door to Blythe Cove Manor’s room six. In gold-leaf calligraphy, it said: Life holds special magic for those who dare to dream.
Paige handed the key over and allowed Alex to open the door. He stood aside to let her enter first. She took a step forward and paused in the doorway, a sudden smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She had smiled so seldom during the past fifteen months that the muscles needed to achieve the expression seemed rusty from lack of use. But the room was so charming Paige couldn’t help herself.
The walls were knotty pine, which could have made the space feel dark and foreboding, but instead felt warm and cozy. The gas fire, which was alight, added to that ambiance. The queen-sized bed was covered in a faded patchwork quilt where a fat tabby—no doubt Martha—had taken up residence.
“Paige,” Alex prodded.
“Oh. Sorry,” she said, and moved deeper into the room so that he set down the one suitcase he’d brought in. Meanwhile, Paige found herself drawn to an old framed photograph that hung on the wall by the bed. It was a vintage wedding photo. The bride and groom wore clothing appropriate for the late 1880s. Perhaps they were the proprietress’s ancestors. Maybe, Paige thought, she’d ask. At least it would give her something to say to the inn’s owner the next time they met.
“The room looks nice,” Alex said.
Paige didn’t comment.
“I think I’ll go get the rest of our stuff.”
“Okay,” Paige said without turning to look at him. She set her purse down on the bedside table as the door closed behind him and let out a breath. It was exhausting to be angry all the time, and when she was with Alex, she felt nothing but animosity. Or was it more betrayal? She was never quite sure.
Her fear of being stuck in inferior accommodations had been unfounded. The view through the sliding glass door that overlooked a small furnished patio was lovely. An expanse of green lawn seemed to lead to a bluff overlooking the ocean.
Paige turned away. Shrugging out of her sweater, she laid it across the pillow on her side of the bed and stepped over to the cat who hadn’t moved, but had watched her every move.
Paige reached out to pet the feline, who immediately began to purr, and her thoughts traveled back to the long-winded debates she’d once participated in on why the Campbell family needed a pet. A rescue cat or dog—or even a guinea pig. They’d abruptly ended fifteen months before. As Paige petted the cat’s soft fur, she wondered why she’d been so adamantly against the idea. After all, she’d grown up in a house with both cats and dogs.
Her arguments came back with a vengeance. Dogs smelled when they were wet. But when you were sad, they could be your best friend and confidant. Cats shed—even when you faithfully brushed them—leaving a trail of hair on rugs and furniture. The pleas for a pet had gone unheeded … another of Paige’s regrets.
Martha stood and stretched.
“You can stay if you want,” Paige offered, but the cat paid no attention to her invitation and jumped from the bed. It sauntered across the room and patiently settled before the door to the hall. Paige followed, opened it, and the cat swished its tail before taking its leave. “Come back soon,” Paige said, actually meaning it.
Would spending time with the feline make up for times past?
No. Nothing would.
Alex returned with the luggage on a cart before she could shut the door and Paige moved deeper into the room.
“It’s a nice room,” he commented again as he unloaded their other suitcase, Paige’s tote, and his camera bag. “It was thoughtful of Blythe to have the fire going for us.”
“Yes,” Paige agreed. “It sure has taken the chill off the day.”
“I thought you asked for single beds?” he said.
“I did. I was told they only had full or queens. We got a queen.”
“It’s only for a few days,” Alex said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He opened the door, struggling to get the luggage cart out and it was only after he left that Paige realized she should have helped him. The least they could offer each other was common courtesy.
She moved to stand before the fire. Years ago, she and Alex had once stayed in a B and B in Vermont. The fireplace had been wood burning and Alex couldn’t get it to light—and he wouldn’t let Paige call the inn’s manager to help. She smiled. He’d wanted to do it all for her in those days. It had taken more than an hour before the kindling finally decided to burn, but he had given her a fire. This one could be turned on or off with the flip of a switch.
She liked a wood-burning fire better.
Alex returned and made a beeline for the leather club chair that sat in the corner. “It feels good to sit on something other than a car seat.”
Paige said nothing as she looked around the room once more and saw there was no TV. Great. What were they supposed to do in the evenings—talk to one another? Make love? Fat chance of that happening.
There were no books, no magazines, not even a pamphlet to read.
“What time do you want to go to dinner?”
Alex shrugged. “Six?”
That gave them hours to kill.
“I wonder if we could find a bookstore. I forgot to load my e-reader and I’ve almost finished my current book.”
“I guess.”
That might kill an extra half hour, but that still left at least another ninety minutes to kill.
“I think I’ll take a nap. Do you mind?”
“Go right ahead,” Alex said.
Paige removed her sweater from the bed and hung it in the closet. She couldn’t be bothered to unpack. Instead, she pulled back the quilt, carefully folded it and placed it on the bench at the bottom of the bed. Stepping out of her shoes, she climbed into the bed and lay on her side with her back to Alex.
Paige closed her eyes. She hadn’t intended to actually sleep; she’d just wanted an excuse not to have to talk to Alex, but within moments she fell into a deep slumber.
Alex drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. It helped to pass the time. He knew he should get up and go back to the lobby to ask their hostess where they could find a bookstore, but suddenly the tensions of the day seemed to weigh heavy on him. Maybe what he needed was forty winks. With nothing better to do, he got up.
“Paige?” No answer. That was no surprise. She was probably feigning sleep so she wouldn’t have to actually talk to him. It certainly wasn’t the first time. Well, she wouldn’t have to do that much longer. He would wait until the ride home to bring up the subject of divorce. It could keep for another few days.
Alex yanked at the sleeves of his jacket, took it off, and tossed it on the chair. He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, making sure his back did not come anywhere near Paige’s. The queen bed was a lot smaller than the king they shared at home. When they’d first moved in together, they’d slept in a double bed—a hand-me-down from a relative. Those were the good old days when all they could afford was a third-floor walk-up with a kitchen the size of the walk-in closet that now housed all Paige’s clothes. His had been relegated to the guest room, not that he minded. What irritated him was being asked to leave their master suite. That was the beginning of the end.
The Windsor Complex near work had one- and two-bedroom apartments that looked elegant and probably cost a small fortune, but they came furnished and could be leased for as l
ittle as three months. That would give him time to figure out what he wanted to do and perhaps where to ultimately go. During the past decade he’d turned down a couple of opportunities to relocate so that they could stay in the Albany area. They had reasons back then not to shake things up—not to disrupt their ordered lives. But then fate had intervened anyway and that way of life was gone forever.
Alex let out a breath and closed his eyes. In no time, sleep’s oblivion claimed him, too.
4
It was raining on that blustery day in September at the State University at Buffalo’s North Campus. Paige Abbott had pulled the hood of her poncho low over her eyes to keep her bangs dry and hadn’t seen the soaked sophomore barreling toward her.
BAM! They collided—falling on their backsides into a puddle doing a good imitation of one of the Great Lakes.
“I’m so sorry,” they said in unison.
They reached for each other’s hands, pulling themselves up. Paige examined her sodden backpack and contemplated the condition of its contents; probably ruined. No chance to resell those books at the end of the semester. The guy standing in front of her seemed to have come to the same conclusion.
“I didn’t see you,” he said, hefting his dripping backpack over his left shoulder.
“Me, either.”
“Let me apologize—inside—by buying you a cup of cocoa.”
Cocoa? Not coffee? How did he know that was her preferred hot drink on a cold, miserable day?
“Ordinarily I’d say no, but—damn I’m cold.”
“Then follow me.”
The guy took Paige by the elbow and led her back up the steps and into the edifice. “I’m sorry there’s no cafeteria in this building, but there are vending machines. The coffee sucks, but the hot chocolate is palatable.”
Oh, so that’s what he’d meant.
He led Paige down a series of corridors until they came to a bank of machines filled with beverages, candy, and chips. The guy scrounged in his pockets until he came up with enough change to buy two cups of steaming hot liquid. It was reminiscent of cocoa—but not nearly as good.
“Follow me,” he said again and led her down another corridor where a couple of heat registers were bolted to the wall clad in buff-colored ceramic tile.
“Sit down,” he encouraged, and planted his damp butt on the heater. “We might be able to dry out a little before our next class.”
“You must be missing one right now.”
“You, too?”
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“What’s your program?”
“Social work.”
“I’m in pre-law.”
“What will your specialty be?”
“Anything but corporate law. That’s my father’s choice. He works for G.E.”
“Must be good money.”
“I won’t have any student loans to repay—unless I piss off the old man, that is. How about you?”
“Student loans all the way. I’m mortgaging the next ten or fifteen years of my life, but I hope to make a difference in the lives of women and children.”
“That’s very noble of you,” he said and sipped his chocolate.
Was he making fun of her? Maybe he wasn’t such a nice guy after all.
Paige held the warm cup in her hands, hoping to absorb its heat. Only her bottom on the heater felt toasty.
“What’s your name?”
“Paige Abbott.”
“Alexander Greenfield Campbell, at your service,” he said and offered her his hand. Paige shook it. Warm and strong—not that he’d crushed her fingers, but she suddenly got the impression this guy could do anything.”
“Hi, Alexander.”
“Call me Alex, Paige.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
“You from around here?”
She shook her head. “But not far. Dunkirk. How about you?”
“Schenectady.”
“Will you be going home for Thanksgiving?”
He shook his head. My folks are heading for Florida, so there’s no point.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“One of each, but they’re older than me. They have families of their own. How about you?”
“Two sisters. They both got married early. I’m the first one in my family who’s going to graduate from college.”
“Good for you. We’re all trudging in my father’s footsteps. Like my siblings, I’ll be a third-generation lawyer.”
“You don’t sound thrilled.”
He shrugged. “I’m not.”
“What would you rather be?”
“An electrical engineer.”
“So, change majors.”
“And how do I pay for it?”
“The same as me.”
He shook his head.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life doing something you hate—or take the initiative—and also control of your life—and make your dreams come true?”
“Like it’s that easy,” he grumbled.
“Who said it was going to be easy?” She said with umbrage and sipped her chocolate. “I may be in hock, but I’ll be doing something I want to do. They say if you love your job, you never have to work again. That’s going to be me.”
Paige drank the last of her chocolate. What a wuss, she thought, crumpling her empty cup, and just minutes before she thought he might be capable of just about anything. So much for woman’s intuition.
She stood, didn’t see a trash can nearby, and dropped the cup into her purse. “It was nice meeting you, Alex.”
“Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
“To the library to study.”
“I’ve got another class. Maybe we could meet up later.”
Paige shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Will you tell me why?” he asked, sounding sincere.
“My education means everything to me because I’m paying for it. I can’t be distracted by people who aren’t serious about their schoolwork, their lives, and their futures.”
“That’s a pretty heavy line to dump on a guy.”
“Sorry.” Paige forced a smile. “It was nice talking to you.” Mostly. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again some time, only next time—I hope not literally.”
“Maybe,” Alex said thoughtfully.
Paige gave a wave and headed back the way they’d come. She was almost to the exit when Alex caught up to her.
“Hey, wait!”
She turned to face him.
“I’m sorry. I must have come off as some kind of jerk. Please give me a second chance to prove myself.”
Paige looked at him in confusion. “Why?”
“Because I sense that you’re far different than anyone I’ve ever met before. I have this weird feeling that you might be the best thing that could ever happen to me.”
Talk about a come-on line.
“But we’ve only just met.”
Alex smiled and shrugged. “Maybe it’s kismet.”
Kismet? There was no such thing.
“And what if you’re not the best thing to ever happen to me?” she asked.
His grin broadened. “Well, we’ll never know if we don’t get to know each other better. And I promise you, I may be conflicted about my future, but I’m determined to prove to you my worth.”
Was this guy serious?
Something inside Paige softened. “Well, okay. What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t have a lot of money, but I could afford to take you to dinner at a real restaurant—not just fast food. I know a place that has the best beef on weck sandwiches. The horseradish will clear your sinuses and may even extend your life.”
“I do love kimmels,” Paige admitted, referring to the caraway seeds on the buns.
“Then please give me a second chance.”
Alex had the prettiest blue eyes. “Well, okay,” she said.
His smile widened.
“Paige? Wake up, Paige.”
>
5
“Paige? Wake up, Paige.”
Alex watched as his wife opened her eyes, blinking to focus on the heavy cotton golf shirt before her. Her gaze tilted upward to take in his face.
“You’ve slept for almost three hours. It’s getting late. If we want to get some dinner, we need to get going.”
Paige sat up and swung her legs off the bed. “What time is it?” she asked and rubbed her eyes.
“Just past seven. I would have woken you sooner, but I fell asleep, too.”
Paige’s stomach rumbled.
“See, you’re as hungry as I am. I’m sure Ms. Calvert can give us a recommendation. How about seafood?”
“I guess.” Still, she didn’t seem in a hurry to get going.
Alex offered her his hand.
She looked at it for a long time before she raised her own and let him pull her to her feet. They stood together, too close, just staring at one another for a long moment, and Alex fought the urge to kiss her. He’d tried on other occasions and she’d turned from him. She didn’t want comfort—she wanted to blame him for everything that had gone wrong. Still….
The moment passed and Paige dodged around him, heading for her suitcase. “My clothes are rumpled. I’d better change.”
“You look fine. Just as pretty as the day we met.”
Paige whirled around. “What did you say?”
Alex shrugged. “That you look as pretty as the day we met.”
Paige just stood there, staring at him, her expression incredulous.
“What?” he asked at last, puzzled.
She shook her head and turned back for the suitcase. “Let me get my sweater, fix my face, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Alex watched as Paige headed for the bathroom and shut the door, then stared long afterward. Why had she looked at him so quizzically? Because he’d mentioned the first time they’d met? Funny, he hadn’t thought of that day for a long, long time. The truth was he’d suppressed far too many such thoughts during the past fifteen months. Perhaps if he hadn’t, things might be different between them.
Summer Magic Page 2
