by Thea Dawson
Chris cringed. He liked Sherri, but despite her masterful ability to massage a star’s image in the press, she had all the sensitivity of a crocodile when it came to personal relations. “Jeez, Sherri. They’re friends, not ... angles.”
“Sorry.” Sherri managed to look contrite despite her frozen forehead. “I am truly sorry your friend is dying. But like I said, if you’d like to use this as an opportunity to bring attention to a good cause, one that would mean something to your friends—bone cancer research, for example—we could make that happen. Wouldn’t it be nice to see something good come out of this?”
Chris nodded, somewhat mollified. Since Simon’s letter had sparked his desire to save the Silver Scene Players, he’d been thinking about ways he could do more good in the world. Until now, his life had revolved around work—better roles, better scripts, doing whatever his producers asked of him—but now that his career was more firmly established, he stood a good chance of being legitimately wealthy—possibly to the tune of many millions of dollars.
He liked the money—it was nice not having to think about making rent payments or wondering if he could afford something—but he didn’t really see himself needing most of it. It was all still a bit abstract, but maybe he should think more seriously about a good cause.
“Maybe ... let me think about it.”
Sherri nodded, seemingly satisfied to have planted the seed in his mind. “I’m going to see about getting you on the entertainment segments of some of the Portland network affiliates. Home town boy makes good sort of thing. We’ll promo Crusaders, and you can spin your little Shakespeare company while you’re at it. I’m sending out press releases to the major newspapers and some of the local radio stations as well.”
Chris looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thanks, Sherri. That could be awesome free publicity for the Players.”
Sherri sniffed. “We’re revamping your image, remember? You’re not some lout who gets in fistfights. You care about bringing culture to the masses, giving back to society, and supporting your friends. Especially the gay ones.”
It was hard to say for sure, but he might have caught just a hint of humor in her ice-grey eyes.
“I’m onto you, Sherri.” He grinned at her. “You act all tough as nails, but underneath it all, I’m beginning to think you might actually have a heart.
She gave him a stony glare over the top of a pair of Armani glasses. “Don’t be ridiculous, young man. I’m nails all the way through. Now, let’s discuss the interview you and Vanessa are doing on E! Entertainment next week.”
6
It was a Friday afternoon a couple of weeks later, and Joy was trying to finish up as much work as she could so that she could leave early. Charlotte was graduating the next day, and auditions would be held in a week. She had a lot on her mind.
Her phone dinged. She absentmindedly picked it up and then grimaced.
Scott: Are you free this afternoon? I need to talk to you.
Staring at the text, Joy held the phone away from her as if it might burst into flames. The fact that Scott was in town for Charlotte’s graduation was bad enough; that he wanted to talk about something was ominous.
She considered her options. Ignore him. Or tell him to contact her lawyer.
Lawyers were expensive. She deleted the text and went back to work. A few minutes later, the phone dinged again.
Scott: Please don’t ignore me, Joy. I’d just like to talk for a few minutes.
Presumptuous bastard, assuming she was ignoring him. Didn’t it occur to him that maybe her phone was off or that she was busy doing something interesting, and not waiting around for a text from him just so she could ignore him?
She forced herself to wait ten minutes before replying.
I’ll see you tomorrow at graduation, she wrote.
He texted back immediately. I’d rather talk privately. Can I drop by your office?
She considered her options. Part of her was curious about what he wanted. Charlotte had recently turned 18, so custody wasn’t an issue, and child care payments would morph into minimal tuition payments as soon as Charlotte started college in California in the fall. What else could he want to talk about?
Curiosity won out. She wouldn’t get any rest until she knew what he wanted anyway; she might as well find out sooner than later.
But where would they meet? Her office would afford them some privacy, but Corporate Relations, the department where Scott had worked, was just downstairs. There were dozens of people in the building who would recognize him, and one sighting would be all it took to start the gossip train moving again.
Home was out. Not only was Charlotte there, but it was also just too intimate. It was her territory now, and she hated the thought of him intruding on it.
Somewhere in town?
Perry Park, near the duck pond? she thought nastily. I hear that’s a favorite spot of yours.
But she didn’t write it. After mulling her options for a few minutes, she decided on the Riverfront Café. It had opened just a few months ago, so there was no history there between her and Scott, but she’d been there often enough that it felt like her turf. And although it wasn’t far from campus, it was still several blocks from her office.
Riverfront Cafe. Main St btwn Ash & Birch. 4:30, she texted, then shut her phone off and went back to work.
At 4:30 on the dot she stepped into the café, and looked around, her sunglasses still on her face. They were a kind of armor and she felt safer behind them.
The interior cafe was almost empty, though she could see through the windows that the back patio had a fair crowd of people for this time of day, no doubt enjoying the glorious early summer weather. She had no trouble spotting Scott, who was already there sitting at a table. She had expected no less. While she was fanatically punctual, Scott was habitually early.
She made her way over to the table where he sat, reluctantly removing her sunglasses. He stood up.
It had been almost a year since she’d last seen him. She’d managed to avoid him on the days when he picked up Charlotte for a weekend in Portland or dropped her off. Somehow, without ever discussing it directly, they had arranged to go to Charlotte’s track meets and other events on different days, and now that Scott lived in the city, there wasn’t any other reason that they might run into each other accidentally.
She quickly took in the sight of him. He didn’t look much different, perhaps a little older around the eyes. He was still tall and fit, and his sandy hair showed no sign of grey. He didn’t express any emotion beyond a polite smile at seeing her.
“You look great, Joy. How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Scott,” she said in a clipped voice. “You?”
“Can I get you anything?” He indicated the front counter.
“Lemonade, please.” She slipped into one of the chairs at the table while he went to the counter and ordered. She didn’t really want anything at all, but she didn’t feel like she could take up a chair, even in the almost-empty café, without buying something.
Scott returned a moment later and put a glass of lemonade down in front of her. She mumbled her thanks, but she was thinking of the last time she’d been here, with Chris.
How funny after all this time that he’d remembered she liked iced coffee.
Scott sat down opposite her, an iced tea in hand. She looked at him steadily. She had to fight the urge to start filling the air with small talk just to avoid the silence, but she forced herself to stay quiet. This was Scott’s call.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “I’d like to ask if you’d be willing to sell the house.”
She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Why?”
He looked at her evenly. “You and Charlotte don’t need a house that big for just the two of you. And Charlotte will be going away to school in just a couple of months. I imagine it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
She gave him a dry smile. “So you’re just trying to ... do me
a favor?”
“And …” he said slowly, “it’s a huge drain on my finances. Yours, too, I would think. I didn’t fight you on it because it made sense as long as Charlotte was going to go to Falls State and live at home. But it doesn’t make sense anymore.”
While Scott continued to pay the mortgage, Joy was responsible for the upkeep of the house, which, admittedly, wasn’t cheap.
“This does actually sound like the kind of thing our lawyers should talk about,” she told him.
He nodded and was silent for a moment. “Yes, it probably is. But I’d prefer to not involve them if we don’t have to, so I thought we should talk about it first.”
She remembered the duck pond. “And why would I be interested in making your life easier?”
“There’s a lot of equity in that house,” he pointed out, “and half of it’s yours. We bought at a very good time, and the market is a lot stronger than it was even a year ago. Based on what I’ve seen online, I think we could get half a million for it at least, and half that would be yours. You could buy a condo with that or a smaller house or rent anywhere you liked. Maybe you could take a sabbatical from work and travel, like you talked about.” He shrugged. “You could do whatever you wanted.”
She studied him shrewdly. There was no guile in his pale blue eyes, but that didn’t incline her to making things easy for him. “You’re hoping cash from the house will make me happier so you don’t need to feel guilty about what happened.”
He looked at her, his handsome face serious. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Believe it or not, I care about you, and I want you to be happy.”
“Gosh, thanks.” Her voice was dry but she could feel some of her coolness slipping into anger.
He sighed. “Joy, you must have known things weren’t right. Even before Melanie.”
She looked at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“Our marriage was good,” he said, “But I never got the sense that you were ... all in.”
She snorted. “So it’s my fault you and Melanie ended up arrested for public indecency?” she asked, keeping her voice low and steady. The last thing she needed was to be seen fighting in public with her ex.
Except for a slight tightening of his lips, he showed no reaction. “I am, and I will always be sorry about the way our marriage ended. But in all honesty, Joy, I’m not sorry that it did end. I’m not sure where we went wrong, but you must have known too that it wasn’t working out.”
A stab of hurt went through her at his words. She wished she hadn’t taken her sunglasses off. Her eyes dropped to her lemonade.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Joy,” Scott went on. “I never wanted to hurt you. You were a good wife and a good mother. But I sometimes wonder if you made a mistake in marrying me.”
“Trust me, I’ve wondered that myself,” she said.
“I don’t mean because of the way things turned out. I mean because of the way things started.”
She felt the blood drain from her face, and she raised her eyes to his for a brief moment. “What are you talking about?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered his answer. “I mean, do you ever think that maybe you married me ... I don’t know, because you felt safe with me? Or maybe even out of a sense of obligation?”
It took all her willpower now not to reach for her sunglasses.
“Sounds like maybe it’s you who regrets marrying me,” she said, going on the offensive.
“No.” His voice was serious and he looked steadily into her eyes. “I loved you very much, and I’m incredibly grateful for Charlotte. I could never regret that I married you.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she prayed that the conversation would end before they began to fall.
“Then you’re just being ridiculous,” she mumbled.
He sat back slightly in his chair. “Maybe. I just got the feeling you were never as into me as I was into you.”
“So into me that you slept with another woman for a year before you got caught?” she said, an edge to her voice. He said nothing, just sighed and looked out the window at the small river that flowed peacefully past them. “I’ll think about the house,” she finally said, anxious to put an end to the conversation.
“Thank you.” He seemed to understand that there was no benefit to either of them in prolonging the discussion and pushed his chair away, his iced tea still untouched. “I’ll see you tomorrow at graduation. Melanie’s not coming, if that matters to you.”
She wanted to tell him that she was above worrying what Melanie did or didn’t do, but she couldn’t find her voice.
Scott went on. “I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me. In the meantime, if you decide to move forward with the house, let me know. Or have the lawyers deal with if you’d prefer.” He stood up.
She refused to meet his eye. “One pm at the high school,” she replied, though she knew he knew.
He hesitated as if hoping for something more. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him give a slow nod. “Right. I’ll see you then.”
The he turned and left, the bells on the cafe door jingling as he pushed it open and stepped out.
She sat at the table for a moment after Scott left, feeling both furious and exhausted from their encounter. Her hands still shaking slightly, she fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses and jammed them on her face. It was a small gesture, but they made her feel slightly more protected. She took a deep breath to compose herself, then got up and made her way out the door, anxious to get home.
She paused for a split second as the glare of the late afternoon sunlight hit her full in the face, then turned and almost bumped into a tall man who was walking briskly up the street.
“Excuse me—” he said, then they both froze. “Joy.”
Of all people to run into, especially so close on the heels of her conversation with Scott ... She might have laughed at the irony if her sense of humor hadn’t been completely drained.
Melanie’s ex-husband, Richard.
She’d met him a few times before their respective marriages had imploded. His daughter, Peyton, was several years younger than Charlotte, but they had gone to the same school when Joy had served on its Board. Richard had served on it too the year before Charlotte had moved on to the high school. He was a bit gruff, not really a people person, despite his polished exterior, but Joy had admired his directness and his dedication to his daughter and the school.
Thank God he hadn’t walked up the street a minute earlier or he would have walked straight into Scott. She glanced over her shoulder. Scott’s lanky form was still visible the next block up.
“Oh, hello, Richard.” Joy groped for something more to say, hoping to delay him for another minute or two. “How are you?” she finally managed. It was almost funny, she thought, how banal she sounded, given the drama that had surrounded their entirely unwanted connection—as if she were just running into him at a social event, and not forever associated with him as one of the victims of the scandal Scott and Melanie had left in their wake.
“I’m ... well,” he said, looking almost comically awkward at seeing her. “How are you and Charlotte doing?”
She was touched that he remembered Charlotte’s name. “Oh, you know ... just ...”
Her voice trailed off. She really didn’t have the energy to make small talk at the moment, but habit born of years of always saying the right things prevented her from being anything less than polite. And she wanted to be sure there was no chance of Richard running into Scott. At best it would be unpleasant for Richard; at worst it might lead to a confrontation that would re-kindle the scandal all over again.
“What are you up to these days?” she asked in an effort to deflect the conversation away from herself.
“Work, looking after Peyton, you know,” he said vaguely. He looked somewhat lost, and a pang of sympathy blossomed in her chest. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would enjoy being single. He was the type who neede
d a wife.
“It’s not easy, is it, doing it all on your own? After this much time, I feel like I should have the hang of being single, you know—but I don’t.” She was trying to say something supportive, something that would reassure him that he wasn’t the only one lost at sea, scrambling to find land again, but she wasn’t really sure what she was saying. She stopped abruptly and gave a humorless little laugh before he thought she’d gone completely around the bend.
He studied her, pity carved across his handsome face. “You deserved better, Joy,” he said quietly.
Had she deserved better? She wasn’t sure, but she appreciated his attempt at being kind. Her lips twisted in the beginnings of bitter smile.
“We both did, Richard,” she replied without really thinking. “I guess now we just have to get on with life, don’t we?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how trite they sounded.
“Yeah, I suppose we do.”
She patted him absentmindedly on the arm. Scott should be well away by now. Calling on her last reserves of social graces, she murmured, “Take care, now,” and stepped past him down the sunny street.
7
Seeing Richard had tickled something in her mind, reminding her that there was something she needed to do, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.
But it was Scott, and his request about the house, that filled her mind. The meeting had left her deeply unsettled, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. She herself had just been thinking that the house was too big, that she’d be happier somewhere else—so why did his request that she sell it set off such a storm of anger?
She got into her car and started the engine. It was hot and she rolled the windows halfway down, anxious for some fresh air. She backed out of the parking space and started home.
Scott was right about the money, too—it didn’t make sense to tie up all that equity in the house. With that much cash, she could travel, she could take a year off work and think about what she really wanted to do with her life. Maybe she could go back to school or write a book ...
