Love Finds You in Holiday, Florida

by Sandra D. Bricker

  He sure does love to golf, though, she recalled. If he was going to start up a new business, a golf resort would surely be the one he would start.

  Mr. Kendrick had mentioned a business venture that Richard was involved in—the one in which he feared Cassie was going to become involved, as well.

  And hadn’t Richard warned Cassie not to spend too much money fixing up her house to sell it? If he was going to bulldoze the place, that would be his thinking.

  Cassie pulled the cell phone from the pocket of her capri pants and dialed 411.

  “Directory assistance for what city?”

  “Holiday, Florida,” she replied. “Listing for Richard Dillon.”

  “Please hold while I connect you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  15 ACROSS: Enticing; captivating; beguiling

  Receiving an invitation from Cassie Constantine at seven o’clock at night to come over and have a latte seemed rather out of character, but Richard wasn’t one to look a gift-Gidget in the mouth. By seven thirty, he was standing at her front door and waiting for her to answer the bell.

  He glanced at the palm tree in the yard, its trunk illuminated like the stem of a red-and-green candy cane. At its feet were two freakishly ugly flamingos, both of them wearing collars of lights and so neon in their neon pink that they clashed with the Christmas lights, even in the Florida twilight.

  “Richard, come on in,” Cassie said as she pulled open the front door. “I’m glad you could come.”

  As he ruffled the fur behind Sophie’s ears, he had the urge to look around with caution for signs of a trap door or a net that would scoop him up and hang him from the ceiling. He comforted himself with the reminder that she would certainly get to the point as soon as they were settled. Was she finally going to address the admission of interest that had spilled out of him on Christmas? He’d wished at least a hundred times since then that he could pull back those clumsy words, edit them a bit, and then reissue them as a better first draft.

  “It’s decaf,” she told him, setting two mugs of foaming coffee on the dining room table. She sat across from him and began scratching something on the handle of her mug.

  “Thanks,” he said, and then he took a sip from the cup for lack of anything better to do. “Mmm. Pretty good.”

  “Yes?” she said with a smile that brought up those perfect round apples in her rosy cheeks. “Good. I’m…I’m glad.”

  They were as silent as a stockpiled bomb in the next seconds that ticked by, and it was just about all Richard could do not to call attention to it. But at last Cassie pulled open the casing and exposed the missile in the room.

  “Richard, I hope you won’t mind me bringing this up. I was wondering, though, if you could possibly tell me… I mean, I probably have no right to even ask…but I’ve heard some things and…”

  “It’s true,” he said, breaking the ice with a steel pick.

  “It is?”

  “Yes,” he said while nodding, “I tried out for Dancing with the Stars.” He took another drink of the latte.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I know I’m not a big star or anything, but I just can’t live without that big glittering disco ball trophy. I have to take the chance.”

  She stared at him, a queer little question mark forming on her face.

  “I’m kidding.”

  “Uh. Oh. Of course you are.” She released a chunky little “Ha!” and then rubbed her temple. “That was…funny.”

  “Cassie, you obviously have something to say to me. Just relax and say it.”

  He took another drink from his coffee cup to give her preparation time, and then he set the mug on the table, leaned back in the chair, and folded his arms as she stared out the window for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Are you going to build a golf resort?”

  Just like that. A bubble in the air, popped with a pin, and bubble guts showering all over him.

  “That’s why you called me over here? To ask if I’m going to build a golf resort?”

  “Yes,” she stated, continuing to stare him down.

  “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because I’d like to know.”

  “Why?”

  She twirled the mug around in its spot once and then again before replying, “Because I think it will affect a lot of people in Holiday, and I’d like to know if you’re the one behind it.”

  “Why do you care?” he asked her. “Aren’t you leaving Holiday?”

  “Well, yes. But there are a lot of folks who won’t be leaving. Unless you have a hand in forcing them out, and—”

  “Forcing them out? What are you accusing me of here, Cassie? Heading up the Tropical Mafia?”

  “Well, no. Of—of course not,” she stammered.

  “Is this the only thing you called me over here to talk about tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Never mind that you’ve left my declaration of interest in you lying on a plate like stale bread. You want to know if I’m going to be breaking people’s kneecaps and forcing them out of their homes so I can build a golf resort.”

  Her hazel eyes fluttered slightly and then came to rest on the tabletop.

  Richard stood up and looked down at her for several seconds.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Cassie.”

  She was still in her chair when he reached the door and tugged it open, but she was pulling at his sleeve before he could take one step outside.

  “Come on, Richard, we can talk about what you said on Christmas, too, if you want. But I really do want to know if you’re behind this golf resort thing.”

  Richard twisted his arm until she released her grip.

  “Mr. Kendrick told me you’re starting up a new business venture,” she reasoned as he walked away. “That was why he thought maybe I was going to take a job with you. Millicent said you’d been out at the golf course asking questions about the place. And then the Tampa Realtor came to her house. And—”

  “And so you put all the clues together, and it must be Colonel Dillon. On the golf course. With the nine iron,” he said as he made his way down the sidewalk, leaving her standing in the doorway with all of her questions.

  “Richard, please come back.”

  “Thanks for the invitation, Cassie,” he said, turning toward her and walking slowly backward down the driveway. “But I don’t think so. Have a nice evening.”

  Cassie plopped down on the sofa with a groan. Sophie stood next to her expectantly, as if waiting for Cassie’s next move. Immediately she noticed the crystal “Surprise Yourself” box sitting where she’d left it on the coffee table just that morning. The card had said something about taking care to be sensitive to someone else’s feelings, and she felt a rush of heat move through her with the reminder that she had done just the opposite with Richard. She hadn’t taken care with his feelings in the least.

  She leaned forward and picked it up, pulling the card from the very back of the box, the same one she’d read just that morning.

  “He who guards his mouth preserves his life, but he who opens wide his lips shall have destruction” Proverbs 13:3.

  Try holding your tongue when you feel like saying something that might hurt someone.

  Cassie felt the burn of Richard’s disappointment inside her, all the way to her soul. He’d been waiting for her to respond to what he’d revealed about his feelings. Instead, she’d tried to dig up an admission about his personal business dealings.

  But he did act very much like a man with a secret.

  She looked down at Sophie, who was standing in front of her with a curious look in her eyes and her big floppy dog hanging out of her mouth by the ear.

  “Sorry, Soph. Can we play later?”

  Sophie dropped her toy, sighed, and sat down.

  Cassie plodded into the master bathroom, started the water for a long, hot bath, and then pushed her hair up off her neck in three sections with long clips. She laughed into the mirror at the w
acky results before her. Each section of hair pointed in a different direction like a three-armed scarecrow. Then she spread a thin layer of bright green mint julep mask over her face and flipped on the radio that sat high on the corner shelf.

  Dan Brody was filling in for the night DJ on The Joy FM, and he introduced an old song by Brandon Heath as she shut off the faucet and stepped into the steaming water in the tub. Sophie placed her chin on the rim of the bathtub and whined as if she was singing along.

  Cassie found herself humming with the tune that she hadn’t heard in such a long time and then tapping her fingers on the sides of the tub. The music soothed her spirit and began to lift her up. In another moment it transported her, and she realized how much she wished for the very thing the song lyrics suggested. If only Zan could see her now. If only she could show him how she’d changed since coming to Holiday.

  She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, closed her eyes, and smiled. Struggling against all of the qualities he’d found worth appreciating in her had begun to carve out a new version of Cassie—a more fun-loving and adventurous Cassie and, oddly enough, a Cassie who would probably have delighted Zan to no end.

  How ironic. Zan was gone and would never know the woman she was becoming. And Richard! Richard was just straitlaced and just-so enough to want the former Cassie over this current one.

  She chuckled as she imagined the crossword puzzle Zan might create for her now.

  Spontaneous. Disco dancer. Sensitive.

  Well, she was trying to be sensitive. Even though she’d failed miserably with Richard.

  She wanted to kick herself one more time.

  Cassie sighed when the doorbell rang and Sophie tore out of the bathroom and down the hall while barking a piercing warning. Cassie had called Millicent to tell her that Richard was coming over, and she’d really meant to call her again after she spoke to him but then had completely forgotten. The woman had elicited a hand-raising vow that she would phone the minute he left. She’d probably seen him leave and then hurried over to see what she’d learned once she grew weary of waiting for the telephone to ring.

  Cassie reluctantly climbed out of the tub and quickly ran a towel over her body as the doorbell rang again.

  “Coming, Millicent,” she called out as she slipped into the plush terry-cloth robe hanging on the back of the door. “Keep your dentures in,” she mumbled as she padded down the hall and around the corner toward the front door.

  She paused to tie a tight knot in the belt of her pale pink robe, and the doorbell rang yet again.

  “Good grief,” she said as she yanked the door open, and then she gasped when it wasn’t Millicent standing on the other side at all. “Richard!”

  His eyes opened wide and so did his mouth, as he stared at her, and Cassie felt relief flood over her like a sudden summer shower.

  “I’m so glad you came back!” she exclaimed. “Come in, will you? Just have a seat while I go and throw on some sweats. I really was hoping to talk to you about before. I’m just so glad you came back.”

  Richard nodded, and he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “I’ll be out in just a sec, okay?”

  “Uh, o–kay.”

  He looked so odd to her, so uncharacteristically speechless. Maybe because she was wearing a bathrobe?

  “I was just in the tub,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. “So I’ll just…go and change. Okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good,” she replied, wondering if he was about to have a stroke or something. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you seem a little strange.”

  “Do I?”

  They stared into each other’s eyes for several frozen seconds, and she noticed the corner of Richard’s mouth twitch, as if trying to hold something back.

  Cassie shrugged. “Okay. Well, make yourself at home, and I’ll be right back.”

  She shook her head as she ambled back down the hall and into the bathroom. She pushed the lever on the front of the tub, and the drain gave a little poot as it released the still-warm water.

  Turning back toward the mirror, Cassie froze with her hand in midair, and then she gasped and stopped cold.

  A reflection of crazy scarecrow hair and neon moldy face surrounding huge, astonished eyes as round and shiny as quarters peered back at her.

  “O–oh—” she panted, and then she repeated the strange noise, except this time a little louder. “O–ohhh— Nnn–noooo!”

  Her neck snapped as she jerked back toward the door and thought of Richard. No wonder he’d been looking at her like he’d gotten a firm grip on a live wire!

  “Aarrrrrrrgggh!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she cupped water with both hands and threw it onto her bright green face in frantic splashes.

  From the other room, Richard guffawed, and then he wheezed in little clucks before belting into laughter again. Sophie began barking excitedly. Whatever was inspiring Richard’s hilarity, she seemed to want in on it.

  “Oh, shut up!” Cassie shouted at him, which only seemed to make him laugh harder. She heard the squeak of the sofa springs as he fell down upon it, chortling and sniggering until it sounded as if he might choke.

  “Come on, Mrs. Kabuki,” he returned with a funny gurgle. “I—hahaha—I like your green face. And that hair!”

  Cassie moaned as she tugged at the clips holding her hair in three opposing directions, and Richard exploded into another fit of laughter from the other room.

  She could hear him through the closed bedroom door, trying to compose himself and seeming unable to manage it. She tied the waist of her sweatpants in quick jerks and pushed her feet into canvas mules before stomping down the hall.

  “Can you quit that now?” she asked as she marched right on by and straight into the kitchen.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied, still chuckling. And then he sprang to his feet and followed behind her. “Let me see your face. Is it still green?”

  “No, it is not,” she stated, turning back toward him for only a moment.

  “You’re right. It’s pink again.”

  She produced a bottle of juice from the refrigerator, opened it, and took a swig.

  “You’re not going to offer me anything?” Richard asked her, a mock pained expression on his face.

  “Oh, just grab what you want,” she replied, and she walked away from him.

  Cassie was already sitting on the sofa when Richard joined her a minute later with a bottle of lemonade in his hand.

  “Why did you come back?” she asked him.

  “I thought you were happy I came back.”

  “I was. Until you spoke.”

  “That seems to be a theme with us.”

  “Well, if you would just stop irritating me all the time…”

  “If you just weren’t so easy to irritate…”

  “Why did you come back?” she repeated.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute. First, you tell me why you were so happy that I did.”

  Cassie sighed. “I just wanted to say…” She sighed again, and then she clicked her tongue and groaned. “I wanted to say…that I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  She glared at him. He knew what for.

  “Just to be sure,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I want us to be clear.”

  “I’m sorry, Richard. You told me that you were interested in pursuing something more with me. At least I think that’s what you were leading up to saying. And I didn’t respond to you, and then I sort of…”

  “Avoided me.”

  “Well, no.”

  “Yes. You avoided me.”

  “Okay, yes. I avoided you.”

  “Kind of rude, if you ask me,” he added.

  She glowered at him again. “I didn’t ask you.”

  “Still.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. Okay?”

  “Are you really?” he asked her. “Becau
se it doesn’t seem all that sincere to me. In fact, you appear to be a little irritated just saying it.”

  Cassie growled and dropped back into the sofa cushions and closed her eyes.

  “My turn?”

  She opened one eye at him in silence. Then, “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “On what you’re going to say. I’ve reached my itchy irritation limit for this day.”

  Richard took a long draw from the bottle of lemonade, and then he placed one ankle atop the opposite knee. He just sat there like that for a long, frozen moment.

  “I am not building a golf resort,” he stated. He plunked his drink down onto the coffee table.

  “Oh.” Cassie inched forward and perched on the edge of the couch. “You’re not.”

  “I am, however, thinking of buying the golf course, which makes all this corporate interest in the surrounding area a very special concern to me.”

  Cassie mulled that over and then scratched her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “The golf course went into foreclosure earlier in the year, and it’s going up on the auction block soon. I really want to buy it for as little as I can and then sink some dollars into refurbishing it. There isn’t a course worth playing within forty miles, so I think it could be a pretty good investment.”

  “So why did that Realtor want to buy Millicent’s house for you?”

  “It wasn’t for me,” he declared. “A buddy who works for the county told me that some corporate entity is trying to buy up all the property around the golf course, and he thinks they’ll try to snag the golf course, too.”

  “Ohhh. So that’s where the rumor came in that someone, presumably you, was going to tear down all the houses and build a golf resort around the course.”

  “Exactly. But you can’t talk to anyone about any of this, Cassie. I need to be able to trust you.”

  “Okay. But why? Why can’t I tell anyone?”

  “I’m trying to find out who I’m up against here and whether I even stand a chance. In the meantime, I don’t want them getting wind that there’s another party interested.”

  “Can I just tell Millicent?”