She shrugged. “I left Gran and Sam in charge. I’m good for, I don’t know, an hour?”
“You say that like you don’t take a lunch hour very often.”
“Actually, almost never. But maybe I should do it more.”
“And maybe we should have arranged to do something else besides look at a dusty old house.” He kissed her to make sure she knew what. Then he took her hand and squeezed it a little. “I’m glad you came. This place is really special to me.”
If she felt any skepticism about why the hell he would ever want to tour such a rundown place, she didn’t show it. He unlocked the sun-faded front door and led them into a dark foyer.
Meg examined a transom with lead work shaped like a spider web that graced the top of the door. “So far I like it,” she said.
“This was the living room,” Ben said, looking in a large room to their right. About all he could recognize was the big fireplace, which used to be bright and crackling at Christmastime, to accompany the big fat tree that always towered in the corner. Now the room, which had been converted into a waiting room for the optical business, was covered with cheap laminate paneling with a hole cut out for a reception window. No faded but beautiful oriental rug, no gleaming wood floor, no candy dish his Grandma Rushford always kept full of M&M’s for his siblings’ many after-school visits.
With a sense of sadness and an intense need to stop looking at the ruined room, Ben steered Meg to the left, past a grand staircase covered with brothel-red carpet that curved upward above their heads.
“Are you okay being here?” Meg asked, gently touching his arm.
“Sure. Why do you ask?” He felt especially raw after her news, but he suddenly realized, yeah, he was okay being here. More than okay. As long as she was here with him.
She held up their joined hands. “Because you have a death grip on my hand. Maybe it’s better to remember it as it was.”
He shook his head. “I have to see my grandfather’s office one last time.”
Ben led her through a door beyond the stairs and walked down a dark hallway. He stopped at the first room on the right and opened a heavy paneled door.
“This is it.” Still-beautiful walnut bookcases lined an entire wall. The far wall held a large arched window that overlooked the park next door, and under the window stood an ornately carved cover for the steam-heat radiator. “Funny, but this room seemed so much bigger when I was a kid. My grandfather used to sit at his desk and do paperwork, and I’d crawl under it with my cars and trucks. It was a great place to hide out from my brothers. When I was older, I used to look at his Netter medical atlases.”
“What are those?” Meg asked.
“Frank Netter was a famous physician-artist who illustrated all the anatomy of the body. There was a big green book for each organ system. That’s how I learned about the birds and the bees.”
“Through medical illustrations?”
Ben ran his fingers along the dusty wood shelves. “One day, Gramps caught me reading the one about the reproductive system. I was terrified he was going to tell my mom or something. Instead he sat down with me and explained it all. I knew more proper anatomical terms for sex organs than any other kid at school.”
“Impressive.”
He snorted. “I think he recognized I was fascinated by the body, you know? My brothers thought the pictures were gross.” He turned from the window and ran his hand along the once-polished shelves. “Gramps didn’t just read medical books. These shelves were filled with everything from classics to Asimov to crime thrillers. And I borrowed it all.”
They peeked into the exam rooms, now green-shag carpeted with beat-up white walls, and the reception area at the end of the hall. “Gramps used to let me watch him do things like stitch people up, clean wax out of kids’ ears. Once he pulled a couple of raisins out of a kid’s nose. They’d swollen to three times their size.”
Back in the office, he walked to the window and tried to focus on the park, which was the one thing in sight that was beautiful and well maintained. Suddenly he felt her behind him, curling her body around his back, wrapping her arms around his waist, and for a moment he leaned back into her, staring out at the ugly wooden fence somebody had put up when the city had bought off most of the big backyard for the park.
“Thanks for being here,” he said. His voice sounded funny—low and a little cracked.
She could’ve joked or expressed her distaste about the ugly carpet or the peeling paint or the watermarks on the ceiling. She simply held him, and for a long time they just stood there.
“I’m named after him, you know.”
“He would be proud of you, Ben.”
“He had the most integrity of anyone I knew. He was hardworking and honest. I could spend my whole life trying to be a small fraction of the man he was.”
“That’s a good life goal,” she said, as he turned around and took her into his arms.
His lips quirked up in a faint smile. “How much time until lunch hour’s over?”
“Twenty minutes,” she said.
“We can drive through for some food.”
She waggled her brows. “Or we can go back to my apartment for a quickie.”
“Come to think of it, I’m not so hungry after all.”
They left the house to find Dr. Donaldson walking towards them, gingerly stepping around the crumbled cement of the front walkway.
“I saw your car parked out front and couldn’t resist stopping,” he said. “How’d it look in there?”
“Like it’s been through a war or two,” Ben said. “But I have a lot of great memories of this place.”
“Many a citizen of Mirror Lake visited your grandfather’s office back in the day,” Donaldson said. “We have him to thank for founding the hospital and recruiting some first-rate docs to town.” He stood in the middle of the walkway, looking over the dilapidated facade of the building. “Needs a nice young couple to give it some TLC.”
“Doesn’t need TLC,” Ben mumbled. “More like a total body transplant.”
Donaldson laughed. “Well, maybe saving this thing from the wrecking ball is too much of a challenge but there are others. I’ve seen signs on a few properties on the west side of the lake.”
“On Pill Hill?” Ben asked. That was the chichi section of town, mockingly christened with that moniker due to the number of docs who had bought houses there. Big-assed McMansions with million-dollar lake views. He couldn’t ever imagine kids running around the pristine golf-course-quality yards getting dirty or racing through the designer-decorated rooms.
Dr. Donaldson put a fatherly arm around Ben’s shoulder. “You know, Benjamin, the committee meets for the final time today. Over the years, I’ve seen candidates come and go because they didn’t have ties to our community. It’s so refreshing to see a young couple house hunting.” He dropped his voice. “I hate to interfere, but on behalf of the committee, I feel I must ask, are you two . . . moving in together? Without the benefit of marriage, that is.”
“No, of course not,” Meg said adamantly. “We would never do that without being married.”
Ben looked at Meg’s face, sincere and determined. She was still sticking up for him, still working it to get him that job, as she’d done from day one. But something poked at his gut. It was none of Dr. Donaldson’s business what he chose to do or with whom he chose to do it. “Shacking up” or not, it was their decision to make, not a hospital committee’s that had been dangling this carrot of a job in front of his nose for months.
Dr. Donaldson sported a wide grin as he patted Ben on the back. “So I take it there’s happy news in the air? I’d love to report that to the committee, Benjamin. Because you are our number one candidate. Of course, several of the committee have expressed their reservations about your . . . er . . . active social life.”
Sweat pooled at the back of Ben’s neck and under his arms, and it wasn’t from the noonday August sun beating down mercilessly on their heads. Number one c
andidate resonated through his mind. He couldn’t blow this now, not after all this.
Because what Dr. Donaldson was talking about wasn’t just his job, it was his life. He could not imagine himself anywhere else. For the sake of his grandfather’s legacy, for his family—and dammit, for himself—he wanted to be here, in Mirror Lake, as tightly knit into the community where he was born and bred as the thread on his best winter socks.
And nothing or nobody would keep him from that dream.
All he had to do was go with it. He’d set up the lie himself, and so far it had worked to his advantage. He simply had to acknowledge Dr. Donaldson’s one simple statement.
Meg would understand, just as she’d understood everything so far. She’d accept that all the anticipation and anxiety had made him just a touch on the crazy side. The consequences would only be temporary. Just for today, until the committee met and made their final decision.
Dr. Donaldson waited expectantly. “Any news on your part would certainly sway the few vocal naysayers we have left.”
Panic rumbled through Ben like a volcanic eruption and he blurted, “Actually, we may have only been dating a short while but we are getting married.” He wrapped an arm around Meg’s shoulder and shot her a syrupy smile before turning back to Dr. Donaldson. “So of course you can share the news.”
Meg really should have gotten more sleep last night. Because she couldn’t possibly have heard that right. Ben couldn’t have just crossed the line from a fake date to a fake marriage, could he?
Meg endured the congratulations with the widest, most jaw-aching smile she could plaster onto her face. Somehow she made it last until Dr. Donaldson climbed back into his black Caddy and drove away down Forest Glen Avenue back to the hospital.
Then she turned to Ben, who at least retained enough conscience to wear a sheepish look on his face. “We’re getting what?” she hissed, hands on hips.
She’d rarely seen his face color before, but it was heating up now as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You know why I said that. I didn’t have a choice.”
“No, you thought you didn’t have a choice. The last time I checked, getting married is an issue of mutual consent. You can’t pretend-decide we’re getting married by yourself.”
His brown eyes, which she’d thought were so open and expressive, looked a bit calculating now. “I couldn’t ruin my chances. Not when I’m this close to getting that job.” He gestured a miniscule distance between his index finger and thumb. “Not after all this work we’ve done. I’m sorry, Meg. I’ll make it up to you. In a few weeks, we can break it off and it won’t matter.”
“Ben, you ass, it does matter!” She snapped her own fingers in front of his face. “I understood the dating thing. But this is marriage. Word is spreading now as we speak, and by the time we get back, the entire town will know. That is a super lie.”
“It’s just temporary. Until I sign the contract.” His voice sounded weak, as if what he’d done was finally beginning to sink in.
“People will be happy for me,” she continued. “They’ll congratulate me about one of the most important events in a person’s life. My gran will cry. This is not okay, Ben. I’m not going to lie about this for you.”
“You don’t have to worry, because none of our families will believe it.”
Outrage shot through her. “Why not?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot so hard that stones scattered under her sandals.
“Because they know me. I’m not the marrying kind.” He looked at her with a worried expression. “You weren’t hoping that was real, were you?”
Meg’s head was whirling. To think she’d thought everything about last night had been special. A beautiful night she had hoped would lead to all kinds of wonderful things, maybe even a real marriage proposal one day. Instead it had led to this.
“You just don’t get it, do you? I’m not disappointed that you didn’t really ask me to marry you, you idiot. I’m upset that you lied about such an important thing. You threw me under the bus for your job.”
She searched her purse for her car key, finally finding it tucked into her skirt pocket, and took off toward the street.
“Meg, wait. Please.” He started to follow her but she spun around.
“And by the way,” she said, poking him in the chest with the key, “we haven’t been dating. Last night was not a date. That was a little drive and sex. And camp and dinner—just to be clear, those also were not dates. I’m done being your cheap date, Ben. I’m done covering for you, and most of all, I’m done lying. See you around.”
She stalked off down the crumbling walkway, then down a flight of crooked stairs built into a grassy hill, to her car. He trailed right behind and leaned his hands on the window ledge of the car as she started the ignition.
“Don’t do this,” he said. “We have something . . . special.”
“Something special can’t be built on a lie. Something special has the potential for a future, which you don’t believe in, because you’re not the marrying kind.” It was so difficult to look at him, but she was determined to hold it together for the few more seconds it would take before she drove away. “I really do hope you can stop tormenting yourself about my brother’s accident. It’s time to forgive yourself. Free yourself from the past. And now that includes me, too.”
Meg drove away, leaving behind the train wreck of a house and the man who had used her to secure the job of his dreams.
CHAPTER 19
The car clock told Meg she had ten minutes to get it together before her one o’clock appointment. Sweat trickled down her back and beaded on her lip, and her idling car was starting to feel like a sauna. She couldn’t stay in the Bridal Aisle parking lot in the ninety-degree heat with the windows up bawling her eyes out. Well, technically she could, but she’d already had to duck her head twice so the mailman and the UPS woman wouldn’t recognize her. Plus, she had no Kleenex or sleeves on her blouse, and she’d taken Dr. Manning’s handkerchief out of her pocket at her shop. She’d already wiped her nose on her arm once and that had been disgusting.
Finally, she got up the courage to leave the car and duck into the service entrance of Mona’s, because she just couldn’t face going into Bridal Aisle like this. A comforting warm-dough smell coming from the oven hit her instantly and drew her through the rows of boxes in the bakery storeroom to the kitchen area, with its industrial-sized ovens that included a built-in brick pizza oven, and a couple of baking racks that were full of giant-sized chocolate chip cookies, still soft and melty.
She wiped her nose with a piece of parchment paper she found on one of the racks. She was on her second cookie when Teddy walked in and screamed.
He held a hand over his heart. “Holy shit, I thought you were a hungry homeless person. You scared the sam-hell out of me.” He walked closer. Recognition dawned that this was not an ordinary day. “You look like Helena Bonham Carter in Sweeney Todd.”
She swallowed the final bite, which went down hard because her throat was dry, leaned her head against the bakery rack, and released a sob. “This is why I never leave the shop for lunch. One time I leave, and look what happens. A life crisis!”
“Okay, this requires an intervention.” He pulled her away from the rack, probably so she wouldn’t cry all over his perfect cookies. “But I need to know what I’m dealing with. Is it family, love life, or job?”
“B-Ben,” she squeezed out. Saying his name made her chest hurt, which made her cry even harder.
“Mmm-hmm. Thought so. Sit down here, away from the sugar.” He led her to an old bar stool propped against the marble island. “Do you promise you’ll be right here when I get back?”
She must’ve nodded. As she smoothed her hand over the cool surface of the island, which used to be a fudge-making station for the candy shop that at one time inhabited this space, she heard him announce to his customers, “Okay, people, we’ve just had a water main break and the shop is closed. Y’all come back in a half hour, o
kay?”
“It’s going to be repaired in that short a time?” a woman exclaimed.
“But your sign says hot cookies at 1:00 p.m. That’s five minutes from now.”
“The plumbing crew is very talented. And the cookies have been delayed until further notice.”
After he’d chased off his customers, Teddy pulled Meg up from the chair and steered her into the main part of the bakery, sat her down at a table, and flipped the sign on the door to Closed. Then he poured her a large black coffee and handed her a box of Kleenex. “How about a sandwich?” he asked. “Veggie and red pepper hummus on ciabatta, your fave.”
“Th-thanks, Teddy,” she said with a hiccup, “but I have to be back in the shop in a few minutes.”
He pulled out his cell. “Hi, Grandma G. This is Ted. Meg’s over here helping me with my budget. Is it okay if she’s just a smidgen late for her one o’clock?” He put down the phone and pushed the coffee and a bunch of napkins toward her. “You’re covered. Drink. And tell me what happened.”
She obeyed, enjoying the slight scald of the hot coffee as she swallowed it down, mainly because it took her mind off her greater pain for a few seconds. “We had a magical night. And today he wanted me to come see his grandfather’s old house before it got torn down. But Dr. Donaldson stopped by and got the impression we were a couple house hunting. He implied that if Ben and I were engaged, that would push Ben’s chances over the top to get the job.”
“So Ben actually told him you were engaged? That rat.”
“I—thought we had something special. But he used me to get that job.”
There was a sudden pounding on the door. The faces of a gaggle of senior citizens appeared in the plate glass window.
“Damn that bus,” Ted said. “Leaves them off from Assisted Living every blessed afternoon. They want the cookies.”
Ted opened the door, told the water main break story again, and shut the blinds.
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