Love Finds You in Holiday, Florida

by Sandra D. Bricker

  The first hanger Millicent produced wore a red satin halter dress with cleavage cut out down to the belly button.

  Cassie covered her mouth and shook her head. “Nnn–o. Let’s keep looking.”

  “Cassie, look what we found,” Georgette called to her. She held up a pair of silver glitter platform shoes. “I think we’d break our neck in these for sure, but you might be able to wear them! Can you wear a size 7?”

  “That’s my size,” she said with a nod, and Georgette passed them to her across a clearance table.

  “What about this?” Millicent asked. She fluffed a pair of hot pink satin bell-bottoms out over the table. When she finally found the tag, she grimaced. “Size 6. About eight sizes too small for me. What about you?”

  “I might be able to wear them,” Cassie said, and she took them from Millicent and held them up in front of her in the mirror.

  On another clearance table, Cassie spotted a dark knit top with a sequined ripple pattern across the front in red, gold, green, magenta, and blue. Over the next hour, they found outfits for every one of them, plus a polyester leisure suit for George with a bright scarf to tie around his neck.

  “You’d better practice walking in those shoes tonight,” Millicent told her as they stood in line at the cash register. “You fall off those things and it’s a long, long way down.”

  After Cassie finished paying for her purchases, she excused herself and went to the car to wait for Millicent. The minute she tossed her bag into the backseat and closed the door, she plucked her cell phone from her purse and dialed.

  “Hi, Richard. It’s Cassie. I’m sorry I missed you, but I just wanted to say that…well, I hope we’re still on for tomorrow night. I, um, wondered if you wanted to…you know…talk about anything first. If you do, you can call me. I’ll be home tonight, taking my new platform shoes for a few laps so I can figure them out before I try to disco dance in them. Okay…well…give me a call when you get this?”

  A flock of butterflies took flight in her stomach as she pressed the button to end the call. She wondered what Richard was thinking today. He’d left in such an immediate rush after she’d grabbed him and kissed him the way she had.

  Maybe he thinks I kiss like a platypus. I am out of practice, after all.

  Perhaps after all those years of kissing only Zan, she’d lost touch with the correct way to pucker…or the proper angle of the head. Or maybe she’d given him whiplash, the way she’d grabbed his shirt with both hands and yanked him toward her.

  Cassie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as she suddenly wondered, What did I have for lunch that day? I can’t remember. But…maybe my breath smelled like a shrimp-and-garlic sandwich!

  While she knew she hadn’t had either shrimp or garlic, she worried about the state of her breath just the same. Richard’s breath was minty-fresh, she recalled. Sweet and clean and inviting. No wonder he left in such a hurry. Her breath couldn’t possibly have been right.

  “Oh…man!”

  “Are you talking to someone, hunny?”

  She hadn’t even realized Millicent had opened the car door, much less climbed in beside her.

  “Oh, no. I was just thinking about something. Millicent, do you mind if we stop at the pharmacy? I need to stock up on a few things.”

  “Sure. Like what?”

  “Oh, toothpaste and floss. And some mouthwash. And a few packs of mints.”

  “Getting ready for the big kiss at midnight, are we?”

  Millicent hiccuped and chuckled, so pleased with herself for making the joke. But the truth was, Cassie hadn’t thought of kissing Richard at midnight until her friend mentioned it.

  Maybe I should get something for a queasy stomach, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  16 ACROSS: Compelled by intense emotions; fervent

  Donning black biking shorts and an oversized white T-shirt that she knotted at the waist, Cassie piled her hair on top of her head, laced up her shoes, fired up her MP3 player, put the dog on the leash, and hit the pavement. As one of her old favorites by Bryan Duncan cued up, Cassie felt inspired. She’d planned for a brisk walk, but now she found herself at a full run, much to Sophie’s sheer glee.

  By the time they rounded the corner and headed home, however, the poor dog looked like she was going to keel over. Cassie, on the other hand, might have been able to take another lap around the subdivision. Instead, she apologized to Sophie with a scratch behind the ears and a full water bowl before tossing protein powder, skim milk, and a handful of frozen raspberries into the blender.

  She flipped on the stereo and listened to The Morning Cruise on The Joy FM while she sipped her smoothie and pressed her crossword puzzle flat on the table with both hands. She filled in a couple of the words and was working on the next one when Sophie exploded with a noisy announcement just an instant before the doorbell rang.

  “Hush,” she told her, and then she pulled open the door. Cassie’s heart raced, and a flush of heat radiated through her. “Richard. Good morning.”

  “Is it too early?”

  Early? I was expecting to hear from you yesterday, so I think you’re late.

  “No. Come on in. Do you want a smoothie?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She led him through the living room and then sat down at the dining room table once more, folding her leg beneath her. Richard followed and took the chair across from her.

  “I’m interrupting your breakfast.”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “What’s a ten-letter word that means compelled by intense emotions; fervent?” He was thinking it over when she added, “Fifth letter I, last letter E.”

  When he didn’t respond, she looked up at him. “Richard?” She set her pencil on the table and folded her hands beside it. “What is it?” “I wanted to talk to you about…what happened the other day.” The memory of that kiss pulsed in her ears like a rumba, but for some reason she casually asked him, “What happened?”

  Richard sort of snorted and then stared her down.

  “Oh, you mean the kiss.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which one?”

  “Pardon?”

  “The one you gave me, or the one I gave you afterward?”

  “Collective, I guess,” he replied.

  “So you want to talk about all the kissing.”

  “Yes.”

  Here it comes. The part where he tells me he has nothing against the platypus in general, but—

  “Cassie, don’t get me wrong. I’m really attracted to you.”

  Nothing good can come from a beginning like this one.

  “And if you were staying here in Holiday, I’d probably love to pursue a relationship with you and see where it led.”

  But your breath is just out of control.

  “But I assume you’re making plans to go back to Boston any day now, and I’m staying right here. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “I think so.”

  “I just wanted to apologize to you if I gave you any reason to feel conflicted or—”

  “Richard,” she interrupted, keeping a cool mask in place to disguise the turmoil and disappointment brewing just beneath the surface. “It was just a couple of kisses. Nothing more. And we are not teenagers. I’m not expecting you to give me your ID bracelet and ask me to go steady.”

  He sighed, and Cassie felt like slapping him for it. You’re so relieved that you had to sigh?

  “You’re a very nice man, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. But I have a life elsewhere, and you have one here.”

  “I’m happy to know we’re on the same page.”

  “Same paragraph. Don’t worry about a thing. Now, are we still on for disco dancing tonight?”

  “We’re on,” he said, and he gave her a quick flash of those parenthetical dimples before snatching it back again. “I’ll be dressed to kill.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Pick you up at eight?”

  She nodded,
forcing that false, pasted smile back to the surface. “I’ll be ready.”

  Richard got up and rounded the table. He leaned over her and planted a peck on her cheek. “Thanks, Cassie.”

  She waved him off with her hand and chuckled. “Are you kidding? Everything’s fine.”

  “Passionate.”

  She winced. “Come again?”

  “Ten letters meaning compelled by intense emotions,” he clarified. Then he touched her cheek where he’d kissed it.

  “Oh, that can’t be it.” Not exactly a word Zan would have used to describe me.

  He shrugged. “Okay, then. See you tonight.”

  “I’ll have my dancin’ shoes on!”

  The moment the front door closed behind him, Cassie’s face fell, and she leaned forward against the table with a sigh.

  Buyer’s remorse.

  She’d met a few guys before Zan who had commitment problems and grass-is-always-greener mentalities. They moved in for the kill until they had the girl right where they wanted her and then, without warning, they set down their guns and went home. Perhaps they’d save the actual kill for another day. A bigger trophy. A better “get.”

  Buyer’s remorse.

  Cassie determined that she would not let Richard—or anyone else—know that she’d been had. She glanced down at the crossword puzzle and counted out the boxes with the tip of her pencil.

  P-A-S-S-I-O-N-A-T-E.

  It fit, into the spaces anyway, but certainly not into Zan’s usual crosswords about her. If Richard had been making the puzzle, it might have been a different story, after the other day. Passionate might very well have been one of his descriptors.

  Along with patsy and gullible.

  But that was going to change right here, right now. Richard Dillon would never know the thoughts she’d been having about him or the ridiculous (albeit momentary) fantasies about entirely changing her life in order to be closer to him. He was never going to see her sweat!

  Except on the dance floor.

  Richard started the car but was still parked in Cassie’s driveway fifteen minutes after he’d left the house. His visit hadn’t gone the way he’d planned, and he was toying with the idea of going back again to set things straight.

  He jerked when a knock on the window next to him startled him out of his wits.

  “Good morning, Richard.”

  Millicent grinned at him from the other side of the glass like a toothy cartoon character he’d once seen.

  He pressed the switch to roll down the window and said, “Hello, Millicent. How are you?”

  “Is everything all right?” she asked him. “You’ve been sitting here for a long time.”

  “I—just—I was just leaving,” he said.

  “Oh, I see.” Millicent gave the backseat of his car a once-over before she smiled again and returned her focus to him. “Are you still coming to the party tonight?”

  “Yes, I am. Would you like to ride along with us?”

  “Thank you, hunny. I’d like that.”

  “I’m picking up Cassie at eight.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Millicent lingered for several moments, looking for all the world as if she was going to burst if she didn’t say something to him. But then she sighed, tapped the car door, and muttered, “Right. I’ll see you then.”

  Richard imagined it had something to do with the big secret buzzing around Holiday. She’d probably wanted to ask him if he was the front man for the big, evil corporation coming to town. And Richard wished he could tell her he wasn’t, that he was as curious as she was about the whole thing. He wished he could give her some peace of mind.

  Instead, he smiled and waved good-bye as he backed out of the driveway.

  He arrived earlier than expected at the Heaton house, and while he was debating whether to wait in the car for a few minutes before ringing the bell, Maureen opened the front door and waved at him.

  “Come on in,” she hollered.

  He nodded and turned off the engine.

  Maureen had set out quite a spread in anticipation of Richard’s visit. The aroma of coffee greeted him at the door, and the kitchen table offered an array of china cups and plates, a tray of pastries, and a crystal bowl filled with chunks of fresh fruit.

  “It looks like the buffet brunch at the Ritz,” he complimented her. “This is beautiful, but you didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” she told him. “Sit down and I’ll pour you some coffee. Marvin got a bit of a late start this morning, but he should be out in a few minutes.”

  “I hope he’s feeling all right.”

  “He has his good days and bad. Last night was a little rough, so we stayed up watching reruns of Murder, She Wrote. We both love a good mystery.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She cocked her head slightly, and Richard laughed. “Sorry about him not feeling well. Not about enjoying Angela Lansbury.”

  By the time Richard finished his first cup of coffee, Marvin wheeled into the kitchen and navigated his chair up to the table. He was clean-shaven, and his thinning hair was damp and combed back from his round face.

  “Good to see you again,” he said, extending his hand toward Richard.

  “Same here. I want to thank you both for seeing me.”

  “Are you joking? The man who got my wife dancing again is welcome at this table any day, any time.”

  Maureen blushed, pouring Marvin a cup of coffee and refilling Richard’s before pouring one for herself as well.

  “I have something rather sensitive to talk to you about,” Richard began. “I hope I can trust you both to keep this between us?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, Marvin, your wife tells me that your former career was as a landscape designer.”

  The man arched a curious brow. “Yes.”

  “I’m hoping you might want to freelance a little and help me out.”

  “Freelance?” Maureen repeated. “Like a job?”

  “Yes. I’ve looked into a few of the bigger jobs you did up in Wisconsin, and I think you might be just what I need.”

  Marvin glanced at his wife and then rubbed his chin. “Listen, Richard, I’m grateful that you helped Mo find her dancing feet again. But if you’re about to ask me to be involved in this whole golf resort thing, I’m afraid I’ll have to turn you down flat. I don’t want any part of—”

  “No, no,” Richard interrupted, and he held up his hand. “I know what people are saying, but I’m not the front man for the corporation that’s been sniffing around. I give you my word.”

  “You’re not?” Maureen exclaimed. “Because everyone in town feels certain that you are. Not that it makes one lick of difference in how we feel about you, Richard. But you can just tell us straight out if it’s true.”

  “It’s not.”

  She exchanged a look with Marvin that told Richard they might actually believe him, and he sighed.

  “The only interest I have is in the golf course,” he explained. “I know it’s going to auction next week, and I’ve been hoping to buy it and refurbish the place.”

  “Just the golf course,” Marvin clarified.

  “Yes. I’m hoping that enough of the residents in Holiday will stand up against the machine trying to buy them out, and that this corporation—or whoever they are—will give up on the resort idea. If they can’t buy up the surrounding properties, then there would be no reason to buy the course.”

  “I think there are a lot of mixed emotions about it,” Marvin speculated. “Some of them have received offers they can hardly afford to turn down.”

  “And others think it might be a really good thing for Holiday,” Maureen added. “It would bring jobs to the community, and some are just waiting and hoping they’ll get an offer, too.”

  “What community?” Richard remarked. “If half the families sell off their properties, this will only be a place where tourists and resort-dwelle
rs go for two weeks out of the year.”

  “Didn’t I make that very point to you just last night?” Marvin asked his wife. “Part of Holiday’s charm is that we’re a sort of bedroom community where everyone knows one another and neighbors are neighborly. It won’t be that way if Corporate America moves in and takes over.”

  “There are other things at issue, as well,” Richard pointed out. “Like higher taxes. But my interest, as I said, is specifically in the golf course itself. That’s where you come in.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We couldn’t really afford to invest in a golf course, Richard,” Maureen admitted.

  “Oh no, I don’t want an investor. I want a landscape architect to help me design the restoration.” He turned to Marvin and added,

  “Like what you did to the Rolling Rock course in Racine.”

  Marvin scratched his chin again and smiled at Richard. “Came out great, didn’t it?”

  “It was art,” Maureen remarked.

  “Marvin, I need someone with your skills, yes, but also someone I can trust to keep the endeavor private until we see how this is going to play out. I’ll pay you for your time either way it goes, but I’ve been thinking and planning and praying about this. I just have this feeling about getting things started.”

  Maureen dropped her head, and Richard noticed that she was sniffling.

  “I’m sorry. I, uh—”

  “Marvin’s been needing something like this,” she said without looking up. When she did, her eyes were red and filled with tears. “He’s still so vital and talented, but that wheelchair has him convinced otherwise.”

  “That’s enough, Mo.” Marvin tilted his head and looked at Richard. “My wife is my biggest fan.”

  “I can see that.” Richard shared a smile with him, and then he looked to Maureen. “Does that mean I can count on you both?”

  Maureen looked to Marvin and grinned, and then Marvin nodded.

  “We won’t tell a soul.”

  Richard’s adrenaline started to pump, the way it always did when he wrapped his thoughts around the potential of the project.

  “I have some preliminary notes, but I thought we might take a drive over to the course and have a look around, maybe see if you get inspired.”