Within ten minutes, Sloane barged through Holly’s front door, kicking fresh snow off of her three-inch red stiletto pumps in a most animated fashion. She took one look at Holly, and her jolly tone of voice went murderous.
“You’re still not dressed?!”
Holly looked up at her friend with a most matter of fact expression. She eyed her up and down, admiring her very festive attire. Sloane knew how to dress to impress. Her red mini-dress sparkled and glinted in the low light of the foyer. Her black hair charmed in her usual sassy bob. Sloane’s makeup was gorgeous. She looked perfect and Holly was utterly depressed.
“I have nothing to wear.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“Not kidding. Go look for yourself.”
Sloane gave Holly a look of total disbelief as she walked across the hardwood floor sounding like a horse trotting slowly through downtown. Holly looked amused as she helped herself to yet another cheese puff.
Sloane hiked up the steep wooden staircase that led to the second floor. At the top of the staircase was little Belle’s room. Then, as Sloane curved around the bannister, she bypassed the bathroom, Tressa’s room, Randy’s room and finally, she had arrived at the door to Holly’s bedroom. Sloane paused for a moment before entering as she did not know what to expect on the other side.
She allowed the door to creak open ever so slowly. Inside, she found a perfectly tidy bedroom. The bed linens were neatly made. There was not a single sock on the floor. There wasn’t even a bit of clutter on top of her bureau. All that rested on there were her jewelry box with her wedding ring nestled inside, a tube of half-used deodorant, and a nearly spent bottle of perfume that Brant had given Holly for Christmas over three years ago.
Getting frustrated by the lack of excitement in Holly’s bedroom, Sloane sashayed over to the closet. She was greeted by an overwhelming array of business suits, mom jeans, and a colorful assortment of wool sweaters.
“Oh my God, I’m in fashion hell!” yelled Sloane as she jumped back in shock as if the off-brand clothing were about to gobble her whole.
Holly, hearing her friend’s outburst, called up the steps with a tone of alarm.
“Is everything alright?”
Sloane, still deciding whether to laugh or cry at the dilemma before her, called out, “No! All your clothes have been stolen and replaced with that of an 80-year old spinster’s!”
“Very funny! I told you I had nothing to wear…”
Sloane started to rummage through the closet. She pushed shirts aside, held up trousers, and shook off dresses that look like they hadn’t been worn since their days at Drexel University. She was starting to get desperate. Surely there had to be a pair of shoes to get started with. Sloane began sifting through a few of the shoe boxes that sat on the top shelf of the closet, but she got more than she bargained for. Sloane came across a shoe box that was labeled hastily with a magic marker that said simply “Brant.” In a moment of pure clumsiness, the box toppled off of the shelf as a swarm of photographs, letters and cards came raining down upon Sloane’s head. Finally the box thudded to the ground.
From downstairs Holly called up the steps again, “What was that?”
Sloane, freaking out, made something up to keep Holly downstairs while she cleaned up the mess, “Nothing! Stubbed my toe. I’m fine.”
Sloane looked at the floor around her and saw Brant’s signature everywhere. Holly had kept every photograph, every love letter, and every single Valentine’s Day card… Maybe you never do stop loving someone after they’ve gone. But it was time for Holly to make a decision. Sloane was determined to make Holly choose between reuniting with Brant and a fresh new start with someone else. She’d get to the bottom of this if it killed her.
Quickly, she gathered up all of the letters, photos and cards off of the floor and put them back in the box. She swiftly closed the closet door, hoping to put the memory of Holly’s low budget closet behind her. Holly’s closet was a lost cause. Fortunately for her, Sloane always had a back-up plan.
Holly gave her friend Sloane a strange look as she quickly pranced down the staircase and made a beeline for the front door.
“Giving up on me so soon?” asked Holly with a glimmer of hope present in her voice.
“Au countraire, my little holly berry!” Sloane said in her best French accent. Holly rolled her eyes at the pun of her name. Sloane opened the front door and headed out to her car with a sneaky look on her face.
“What are you doing?!” Holly asked her friend who was standing in the snow dressed to the nines as she opened the trunk of her car.
“Don’t you know I always have a plan b?” Sloane winked as she pulled a long black bag from the trunk.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Holly said as she eyed up the Nordstrom dress bag that Sloane was holding high in the air.
“Try this on for size…” said Sloane as she tip-toed through the snow to where her friend was standing shivering on the front porch.
“You had this all planned out. Didn’t you?” asked Holly suspiciously.
“Me? No. That’s on loan. It’s my New Year’s Eve dress. So spill anything on it or I’ll kill you,” Sloane said with a wink.
Holly knew damn well that Sloane had purchased her New Year’s Eve gown three months ago and it certainly was not from Nordstrom. In fact she had just gone to the seamstress with her last week for some last minute alterations. When you’ve hit rock bottom, it’s great to have a friend like Sloane.
“Now go put it on and make yourself presentable. I’ll be raiding your wine rack.”
*****
Sloane was two glasses into Holly’s last bottle of Merlot when she heard a clicking noise coming down the stairs. Sloane’s eyes perked up towards the stairs as she awaited her friend’s grand entrance.
“Well let’s see then….”
Holly stepped off the landing and turned into the kitchen where Sloane was waiting. Sloane could barely believe her eyes. She looked like the girl she knew in her college days. Holly’s blonde hair was delicately curled and hanging down her back. Her subtle, yet striking makeup was outdone only by Sloane’s black strapless dress which hugged exactly the right curves.
“How do I look?” Holly asked self-consciously.
Sloane smiled her 100-watt smile.
“Like a knock out. Let’s go.”
*****
December 23, 2013
Brant’s Pick-Up Truck
Enroute to Philadelphia International Airport
“Are we there yet?” Tressa whined to her father, as he weaved in and out of traffic.
“We’re almost there...” said Brant groggily.
“How long is the flight?” asked Randy calmly.
“Three hours.”
“Three hours?!” Tressa complained.
“Seriously, Tressa… That is a short flight. Turn on a movie or look out your window. I’m sure we’ll be there in no time,” said Brant calmly.
Tressa huffed a deep sigh as she looked out the car window. The sun had already gone down and all she could see was her own reflection in the glass. She pulled down the baby shade in disgust as she whipped out her tablet from her carry-on bag.
“When are you and Mommy going to make up? I’m sick of doing this,” asked Tressa with an agitated look on her face.
Brant tried to ignore his daughter’s prying questions but he could not escape her penetrating gaze.
“I swear to God, you have a future as a news reporter or a lawyer.”
“Don’t change the subject. I’m tired of doing this. I hate flying. Especially at Christmas.”
“So do I.”
“So make up with her…”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes it is. Just say that you’re sorry.”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“It is that simple!”
Brant closed his eyes as the conversation played out in his head. He spoke in a longing voice that was s
o full of worry and inflection.
“If only it were that simple.”
Chapter Four
Matchmaker
Brant could recall the very moment he first laid eyes on Holly McCarron. It was in the fall of ’99. He was working at the Pour House Coffee Shop in Rittenhouse Square to help pay his share of the rent for the off-campus row house he shared with his five roommates on South Street. He inhabited a tiny third floor bedroom that was just large enough for a bed and a TV stand, but he was supporting himself and he was happy. While his other roommates could rely on their parents for financial support, Brant was on his own. Having come from nothing, he wasn’t afraid of a little hard work.
Working as a barista at the Pour House wasn’t the worst way to make a living as a college student. He worked the Tuesday and Thursday day shifts, and after the morning rush had calmed, he could chat with his favorite customers and even catch up on his coursework when no one was watching.
September the seventh was the first day of term and the city was packed with students, shoppers, nannies pushing babies in strollers, and professionals rushing off to their morning meetings. Brant already had a pounding headache from a flock of freshman girls who insisted upon cackling by the front counter for over a half hour. Brant shooed them away like a swarm of annoying flies as he took an order over to one of his favorite customers: Marv McCarron.
Marv came in at the same time everyday, at 9:15 A.M., and always ordered the same thing: black coffee and a raisin bagel. When the shop wasn’t busy, Marv insisted that Brant sit with him while he read the morning paper so that he had someone to discuss current events with. Brant wasn’t sure how old Marv was, but he had definitely encountered more winters than he was leading on to. As the morning crowd dispersed, Brant made his way over to Marv’s table with his order, fully prepared to discuss the latest news topics.
“Take a seat, fella…”
“How’s it going today, Marv?”
“Great. Just great. I’m expecting company t’day…”
“Company? Hot date?” said Brant with a snicker.
Suddenly the bell over the front door rang loudly, and Brant couldn’t take his eyes off of the curvaceous blonde that had just walked through the door. Marv had spotted her as well, and was now standing at his table waving the girl over.
Feisty old fella, isn’t he?
“There’s my girl!” Marv called to the blonde who smiled warmly back at him. Brant stared at Marv and back at the blonde then back at Marv and scratched his head in confusion. The young woman was a natural beauty with golden waves just past her shoulders. Her hair fell gently over her jean jacket. Brant thought he could hear Marv’s bones creak as he greeted his companion. The girl kissed his cheek in return.
“Hey, Marv… Uh… Who’s your friend?”
Marv gave Brant a perplexed look.
“Friend? She’s no friend… Don’t you remember me mentioning my daughter, Holly?”
Brant did a double take. All the photos that Marv had showed him of his daughter showed a younger girl with pimples and braces, with her hair in messy pigtails. What he saw before him was anything but.
“Oh, right… Holly…”
Brant wiped his hand off on his apron before reaching to shake her hand. She had a strong grip for a girl. Holly smiled at him politely before sitting down with her father at the table.
“So what can I get you, Miss?” asked Brant cordially, remembering that he was still on the job.
Holly pondered his question with a sly smile on her face.
“Bring me back something tall and dark.”
Brant could feel the heat rushing to his face.
“Pardon?”
“Something tall, dark, and not too sweet.”
Marv was now laughing at his young friend who had turned bright red in the face, unable to hide his embarrassment. He couldn’t help but laugh and give Holly a look of total confusion.
“Oh, girl… You’re killing him…”
Holly couldn’t stifle her laughter.
“A large coffee… black… no sugar.”
Brant let out a sigh of relief, but as he walked away to grab her beverage, Marv cleared his throat and said, “And when you’re done, you can join us.”
Brant made a beeline for his counter, his face still rosy from embarrassment as he went to make Holly’s coffee. He couldn’t help but laugh. This is the reaction that he typically gives other girls, not vice versa.
What the hell is wrong with me?! I’m acting like a little school girl. Get it together, man!
Brant glanced back at the table where Marv and Holly were sitting and he was relieved to see that they were looking at each other, rather than at him. Brant carried Holly’s coffee along with a bottled water for himself on a tray, as he yelled to his back-up Trevor that he was taking a break. Gingerly, he placed the piping hot mug in front of Holly as Marv offered Brant a seat between himself and Holly.
“Careful… That’s hot…” warned Brant, eyeing the steam that was rising from Holly’s mug of coffee. Marv smirked in amusement as he watched Brant eye up Holly as she blew the steam from the top of her mug in an attempt to cool her drink. Brant caught Marv’s watchful eye and was determined to change the subject.
“So… Holly… What brings you to Philly?” asked Brant sheepishly.
“School, actually… I start classes tomorrow,” explained Holly with a tinge of nervousness in her voice.
This piqued Brant’s curiousity. She certainly didn’t seem to be Penn or Drexel material, but he remembered from a previous conversation with Marv that Holly lived with her mother in Boston, so she definitely wasn’t attending Community. He didn’t have a good read on her yet, so he decided to ask.
“Oh, really? What college did you choose?”
“Drexel”
The surprise was apparent on Brant’s face. Marv took note, and tried to stifle his laughter. It was turning his wrinkled face red.
“Oh, that’s where I go,” Brant said excitedly. He continued, “What are you majoring in?”
Marv’s red face was now turning a threatening shade of purple from laughing.
“Architectural engineering,” Holly replied.
Marv perked up, “My girl got a 1580 on her SAT’s. Got accepted to MIT, Princeton, and Drexel, but she chose Drexel to be close to her Daddy” said Marv proudly.
Brant was blown away. Her image said California party girl, but her qualifications were anything but. She didn’t look the engineering type. All the girls in Brant’s engineering classes wore birkenstocks and chunky glasses.
“You look surprised…” Holly noted with a smirk on her face. Marv, having a grand old time, finally spoke up.
“You see, Holly… Brant is also an engineering major. He is in his third year over at Drexel.”
Holly looked as surprised as Brant did.
“Really?! So you do more than just serve coffee and croissants?” Holly joked. Brant feigned offense, but he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Why so surprised?”
“Well… uh… you just don’t look the type” explained Holly as her face began to blush.
“Type?” asked Brant with a non-plussed look on his face.
Marv butted in, “I think what she means is, you’re much too pretty to be an engineering nerd.”
Marv could no longer keep a straight face and broke out into laughter.
“You know, I could say the same for your daughter!” said Brant. Holly smiled in approval but Marv simply concurred with Brant, “Her mother and I really broke the mold when we made her.”
Brant laughed. She was beautiful, intelligent, and really easy to talk to. He felt like he had entered the Twilight Zone. Girls like this just don’t exist.
Holly broke the comfortable silence, “So you mean to tell me that serving coffee isn’t the only talent you possess?” said Holly with a devilish grin.
Brant’s eyes lingered over to Holly’s father who was staring out of the café window. As
Marv was caught in a momentary daydream, Brant answered Holly’s question with just a wink and a smile.
“Well kids,” said Marv as he woke from his daydream, “I promised old Artie Markowitz a game of chess in the park. So I must get going…”
Both Holly and Brant eyed Marv with a look of disbelief and amusement. He had the subtlety of an ox. They stared as he casually walked away from their table whistling and trotting with a pep in his step. Edith, the cashier, waved goodbye, but Marv abruptly cut her off, “Can’t talk right now, hun… I have to go beat your husband in chess again!”
Down To You (The Love On Edge Series) Page 2
