by Kris Calvert
I pulled my phone from my pocket to charge it for the night and noticed I’d missed a call from the office. Tapping the message and the speaker button and sat the phone on the desk.
It’s Micah. Just wanted to give you some of the info you requested today. Everyone looks pretty clean except Chuck Hanson. This guy’s done some time. Minimum security prison. Got caught in a drug sting a few years back. I’d keep an eye on him. James Miller is married with three grown kids. He’s sixty-five and has been at Autumn Valley for thirty years. Assistant Stacy Little is divorced, one grown kid, Richard Booker—still lives at home. Looks like he’s some sort of gaming software programmer—go figure. They don’t live in Shadeland. Finally, Samantha Peterson, AKA Samantha Mitchell, is a widow with one kid, age three. She’s twenty-nine. Looks like she inherited the home she lives in, there’s no record of a deed of transfer, and she’s only been in Shadeland a couple of months. All of those have no priors and a clean IRS record. I’ve got IT on the other issues and Intel is pulling the records of the accounting staff. I emailed all of this to you. Yak atcha later.
I sunk into my chair. Samantha was a widow and a mother. Holy shit.
I Googled Samantha Mitchell. There it was, an obituary for her husband, Daniel. He leaves behind a wife and unborn child.
My gut reaction was panic. Holy hell, I’d never gone out with a single mom. I was way out of my comfort zone. She was the most beautiful and interesting woman I’d ever met, and she was a mother. Was I nervous because she was a mother, or because I’d never dated a mom? It wasn’t Sam’s life that made me uncomfortable, it was mine. I’d grown up with a single mom in Miss Celia. I knew what a sacred role it was.
Samantha was too good for me. I took a deep breath, knowing myself too well. There was something special about this woman, and I wanted to know what it was. I needed to know what it was. I longed for her, I was desperate for her, and I was a man who had taught himself to have few emotional needs when it came to women. Samantha Peterson seemed to have a powerful unknown magnetic pull. And I was caught.
9
SAMANTHA
I walked into the house after work to find Dax and Polly playing the piano in the formal parlor.
“What’s this I see?” I asked, excited to see my little man. “Are you working on a masterpiece for Carnegie Hall, Dax?” I kissed him on the head and gave Polly a nod. She knew how much I appreciated her, but I didn’t tell her how important she was to our family nearly enough.
“Mommy, we are having straw babies for dessert tonight.”
“Did you and Polly get strawberries today?”
“Yes, we got straw babies and blue babies.”
“That sounds yummy. What else are we having for dinner?”
“I dunno.” Dax gave me a perfectly innocent smile. He was such a light in my heart—a heart that had seen some dark days.
“I dunno is one of my very favorite things to eat in the whole entire world.”
“You’re silly, Mommy.” Dax giggled and I couldn’t help but join him.
“C’mon, little man.” I picked him up and hitched him to my hip. “Let’s give Polly some time to unwind after her hard day of wrangling you.”
“I’m fine,” Polly said as she watched me walk through the house. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”
“I have a favor to ask, Polly,” I turned, adjusting Dax on my opposite hip. “I’ve been asked out on a date Friday evening, and—”
“Stop.” She interrupted me, holding her hand in the air like a traffic cop. “Don’t even ask. Please go. Please, please, go out and have fun. Please.”
“Is it that obvious that I need to get out more?” I put Dax down and watched him run into the den.
“It’s that obvious that you need to get laid,” she whispered.
“Well, don’t bet on that happening,” I replied with a smirk. “As soon as this guy finds out I’m a mother and a widow, he’ll leave skid marks up the driveway.”
“You don’t know that, Sam.”
“Don’t I? Who wants to be with a widowed mommy? Seriously. I wouldn’t want to be with me.”
“You’re crazy. You’re a beautiful, smart woman of independent means. Any man would want to be with you.”
I put my hands on my hips in frustration and took a deep breath. I wanted to believe it was true.
“But not until you get a bikini wax.” Polly dropped the bomb and walked away.
“What?”
“Seriously,” Polly chimed, turning around to enjoy the expression on my face. “If the natives get restless Friday night, you don’t want to be the one who’s… you know… native.”
“Do I even have time to do that?”
“You make the time for that, honey,” Polly said with a grin. “And get a good one. Get a Brazilian wax.”
“What else do I need to do?” I asked, knowing I had been out of the dating scene forever.
“Nothing else, just get your business waxed off and you’ll be ready. And a mani-pedi wouldn’t hurt. So tell me about him. Is he man-tastic?”
“I dunno.” I sank into my chair at the dinner table in a bit of a panic. “I shouldn’t be waxing my business and getting excited. I’m a mother, for pity’s sake. Moms don’t wax their… you know… business.”
“The hell they don’t. You’ve got to keep it interesting,” Polly said matter-of-factly. Although she was grinning, I knew she was completely serious. “A lady in public and a harlot in the bedroom, Sam. Honestly, I don’t know what’s got your panties in such a wad. If he’s hot and you like him, have sex with him.”
“I felt guilty after kissing him the other night. It was like I was cheating on Daniel.”
“I loved Daniel as much as anyone and I think I knew him pretty well. He would want you to have a life.”
“How do you know what Daniel would want for me other than to raise Dax and be a good mother?”
“Here’s what I know–if you had died, Daniel would be dating by now.”
With that, she walked away, leaving me to think about my choices. Was I willing to sacrifice any future love to hang on to my old life? Was I living with a ghost?
I put Dax to bed and filled the old claw-foot tub that graced the master bathroom with steaming hot water. Candles lit, and tried to soak some of my life away.
Was Polly right? Would Daniel be dating again? I wouldn’t be upset if he did. I would want him to get on with his life, but I hadn’t given myself the same leeway. I knew the reason. It was because I was a mother. The poor widower? The single dad? He’s allowed to have women after his wife is dead. That guy needed help raising a child. But the widow? She was a dirty whore if she wanted to be with another man.
*
The next two days were a blur. Between wading through the receipts and paperwork Mr. Miller piled on my desk, which, by my own admission I’d requested, I barely had time to get a mani-pedi and the bikini wax Polly insisted upon.
I left Autumn Valley early Friday, giving myself plenty of time to shower, curl my hair, and have a nervous breakdown. I hadn’t been on a date in a decade. I knew Daniel for years as a friend before we began to date, and he was the only man I’d ever been with.
After a long shower, I sat at the dressing table in my master bedroom. It was Mimi’s old room and vanity, and some of her trinkets and perfume bottles still graced the worn mahogany and marble top. I liked having her here with me, especially tonight.
I stared into the mirror going over each and every small line on my face. I would admit that even though I’d been through hell, at twenty-nine, I didn’t look too bad.
“Are you excited?” Polly walked in and flopped on the large four-poster bed that had occupied its space for as long as I could remember.
“Excited isn’t the word I would use. Terrified is more like it.”
“You’ll be fine. Just go and have a good time.”
“Polly.” I took a deep breath and revealed my secret. “I’ve never been with another man.”
“So what? He doesn’t have to know that.”
“Are you serious? This man is a stud. He’s swan-dives into the deep end, and I’m on the stairs of the kiddie pool—with water wings.”
“You are beautiful, smart and charming,” Polly assured me. “Just be yourself,”
“I’m scared shitless is what I am. I basically have the dating skills of a sixteen-year-old virgin. He’s gonna know.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What?” I raised my eyebrow and lowered my voice, not knowing what Polly might ask of me.
“If you do have sex, for God’s sake, let go.”
“That’s your advice? Let go?”
“Yes. Give in to him. Give in to it.”
“Fine. If, and that’s a big if, Mr. Studmuffin happens to lose his mind and seduces me, I’ll try to enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” Polly replied, completely exasperated with me. “Now, what are you wearing?”
I’d managed to pore through all my appropriate dresses for the occasion and settled on one I had never worn anywhere for anybody—a pale lavender Valentino silk dress with tiny straps, which accentuated my muscular arms and small waist. I might be a mother, but I still wore a size two. Holding it up by the hanger I nodded my head and widened my eyes, seeking her approval.
“Yes!” Polly exclaimed.
I opened Mimi’s jewelry box on the dressing table and found two beautiful diamonds with pearl drops. I quickly added them to my ears and clasped my pearls around my neck.
“Perfume?” Polly asked.
“Too much.”
She handed me a lilac scented lotion. “It matches the dress.”
I placed a small amount in my palm and began to smooth it on my arms and hands.
“Is he picking you up, or are you going there?” Polly asked as she paced my room, seemingly more excited than I was.
“I’m driving there. I Googled the address on the invitation this morning for directions.”
“Really?” Polly said with a smirk, pulling the heavyweight curtains away from the bedroom window. “I think he has other ideas.”
I rushed to the window and looked down to the front entrance of the house. There sat a black vintage Bentley with an older man dressed in a traditional chauffeur suit and hat standing beside it.
“What…tha…hell.”
“More like, what the fuck,” Polly corrected.
“True,” I agreed, still gazing out the window. “I guess I have a ride.”
I picked up a lavender sweater for my shoulders and a small nude Christian Louboutin bag that matched my shoes. I gave myself one last look in the full-length mirror. As nervous as I was on the inside, at least I looked calm on the outside.
Polly walked me down the big staircase in silence. “Polly…”
“Don’t worry about Dax,” she said. “Please try to have a good time.”
I nodded and opened the door.
“Good evening, Miss Samantha. My name is Timms. I’m here to take you to Lone Oak.”
“That would be lovely, Mr. Timms.”
“Don’t wait up,” I quietly mouthed to Polly.
“Don’t come home,” Polly whispered.
10
MAC
I toweled off right out of the shower and stood naked in my bathroom. Running my hands over my stomach, I was relatively happy with the muscle tone I was keeping, kickboxing at the Bureau. I might be in my thirties, but I could still handily kick the asses of the twenty-somethings.
I wiped the steam from the mirror and lathered up my face. As I shaved, I thought of Sam—sexy Sam. Sweet hell, I was officially lusting after a MILF. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I knew that Timms had left for her house and would be back soon.
I dressed quickly in a lightweight navy Armani suit with a white shirt and green and blue-flecked tie. The afternoon weather was cooler than usual, and I crossed my fingers that the rain would hold off until after midnight so we could eat outside as planned.
Slipping my gold ring on my right hand and my Rolex on my left wrist, I ran my fingers through my hair, still damp from my shower and picked out a linen handkerchief for my back pocket. My initials, MWC, were stitched in red.
“Miss Celia!” I shouted as I came down the staircase headed for the study and a nerve-calming alcoholic beverage.
“Yes, baby,” she said, meeting me at the bottom of the stairs.
“May I have some swee—”
“Sweet tea in the study? It’s already there.”
“Thank you, Celia,” I grinned, kissing her on the cheek. “You know me so well.”
“You know I do.”
I picked up a crystal Collins glass and began to fill it with ice from the silver bucket. With each clink, I thought about the evening ahead of me. I mixed Grey Goose vodka and sweet tea and added a lemon wedge. I took a deep breath and exhaled. I wasn’t going to say anything to Sam about knowing—I would let her take the lead.
I heard the buzz of the security gate through the system control in the study and knew she was almost here. I took a quick drink and a deep breath, and walked to the front door to greet her immediately upon arrival. I was unsettled, nervous—something I’d not been in a really long time. It gave me a charge.
Timms pulled through the circle and up to the front entrance of Lone Oak. I walked off the front porch to be the first thing she saw when she got out of the car. Timms opened her car door and she carefully placed her hot-ass legs out and onto the pavement.
“Good evening, Miss Samantha,” I said, offering my hand.
“Good evening, Mac.”
She was a knockout in purple. Between the dress, the cleavage and the sexy legs, I didn’t know how well I would contain myself tonight.
“You’re beautiful,” I said with an uncontrollable sigh. I wrapped her hand around my arm, escorting her up the steps and into the house without taking my eyes from her.
“This property is truly magnificent.” She breathed each word, matching my quiet tone. “Do you just love it?”
“It’s all I know.”
“Everything else must pale in comparison.”
“Not really. I think you can find beauty anywhere. You just have to look for it.”
She was captivating, and I couldn’t stop staring. “Would you like a drink before dinner? I’ll show you around. I was just having an Ice Pick.”
“Ice Pick?”
“Sweet tea and vodka with lemon.”
“Sweet tea, vodka and lemon,” she repeated. “I thought that was called Mommy Juice.”
I laughed at her joke, not asking her to elaborate.
“Well, I guess I’m not driving tonight.” She glanced back at the Bentley. “That would be lovely.”
“No, you’ll not be driving tonight,” I assured her as I walked her through the front door, taking her bag and sweater.
“So, the house is just as spectacular on the inside as it is on the outside,” she said, looking around the entrance hall and up the imperial staircase.
I smiled, took her hand, and led her to the study. “Come, let’s have a cocktail.” Her soft delicate palm fit perfectly into mine. I didn’t want to let go of it to mix her drink, but I did.
“This is an interesting office, she said.” Walking around the large and circular room, she lightly touched the large tables that enclosed it, examining the books and trinkets on each one.
“It was my dad’s study. Now I use it.”
“And what, pray tell, is it that you do, Mac Callahan?” She walked toward me to take her drink, stealing my breath with each step.
“I’m an attorney by trade. But I don’t exactly practice law.”
“What do you do then?” she asked, pressing her perfect mouth into the side of her glass to sip. She gazed at me over the rim, running her tongue between her red lips, driving me mad.
“I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington, D.C.”
“Really?” she sounded surpris
ed.
“Yes.”
“I’ve never known…”
“Someone who worked for the FBI?” I finished her lingering sentence.
“So are you a Jason Bourne, James Bond kind of secret agent man? I mean you already have the car, right?”
“I’m afraid it’s much more boring than that.” I nervously sipped on my cocktail.
“So what are you doing in Shadeland?” she asked, walking away and continuing to look around the room. “I mean, other than to see your mother.”
“I’m here to see my mother,” I repeated, stopping behind her as she admired a portrait over the imposing mantle. I dipped my head to smell her shoulder. She was intoxicating.
“Are these your parents?” she asked, breaking the thought I had of kissing her sweet-smelling neck.
“Sanden painted their portrait when I was young.” I dropped my head again to breathe her in, but kept my distance. I was drawn to her like a moth to an open flame.
“Sanden? John Howard Sanden?”
I nodded, moving in closer, nosing her hair with my face. “They’re in their thirties here. He painted it from his studio in Carnegie Hall. I really love this portrait. It’s the way I always think of them.”
She turned and faced me. We were inches apart, and I was without words.
“You smell lovely.” I stammered through my whispered words.
“It’s just… soap… and a little bit of lotion.” Her soft voice was bringing me to my knees. She was completely unaware that everything she said was dripping with seduction.
“Thank you for accepting my dinner invitation.” I watched her with longing intent. She blushed, and I took her hand in mine, aching to kiss her perfectly stained lips. I knew if I didn’t get her out of the study, that was exactly what I would do. I couldn’t risk ruining the evening. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“Of course.”
“Come with me.”
I walked her through the front rooms, giving her a brief history of the house and the plantation for the last two hundred years before ushering her out the side entrance and into the gardens.
“It’s breathtaking.”
