After planting a tender kiss on his son’s forehead, he set the child down then strode to where Alan stood. He shook Alan’s hand and patted him on the back. Alan did the same, but he didn’t know what to say to his friend. Their connection had waned since Patrick’s first return—he’d come back a different man than when he’d left.
“Be careful. Maybe our paths will cross when I get over there.” Alan searched his friend’s face for reassurance that Patrick would be okay, that he’d changed his mind and wanted to come back to his family more than anything.
“You never know.” Patrick tilted his head down and gave Alan a pointed stare beneath his brows. “Watch your back, Alan. Remember that, and you’ll come back okay.”
“You got it.” He stepped away, noticing his sister standing next to him. Patrick gave her a hug and whispered something into her ear. Tara nodded then moved to stand by Alan, leaning against him, her head tucked under his chin as she did when she was upset.
With his arm around Tara, Alan watched the rest of Patrick’s family say good-bye. Marcia even managed to crack a smile, though her eyes were glittery with tears. The kids clung to their father the longest.
Alan used the moment to approach Henry. “Sir, I thought you might want this right now.” He took the coin from his pocket, its surface now clean yet still bearing the tarnish, which enhanced the delicate molding of the gold. He handed him an envelope as well. “Here’s the information you asked for.”
Henry gave him a grin of thanks.
His motive and timing could be construed as manipulative, but Alan dearly hoped Henry would take his cue and give the coin to Patrick. This could very well be the last chance the man had to tell his son how he felt.
Alan sensed more than saw Gail standing behind him. He turned around. She glanced at him shyly, just as she had at the party, giving his entire nervous system a shock. No matter what the future held, her eyes would always hold him captive.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.” She took a step closer.
“I’m sorry if I spoke out of line.” He braved his own step closer.
“You did what you thought was right.”
She understood him better than anyone he’d ever known or met. Including his own sister. The thought of walking away and never seeing her again killed him. He stayed silent. Words would only wreck the moment, and he wanted to stay in this place for as long as possible.
Gail pointed to something behind him. Alan turned around. Henry and Patrick stood off to the side, talking. Henry shook Patrick’s hand then pulled him into a hug. Moisture glistened in the man’s eyes.
When they separated, Patrick looked down at his hand. He clasped his father’s hand, shaking his head.
The group of them stood in their staggered places, watching as Patrick waved then boarded the bus. No one moved as the metal beast released a gasp of air and began to roll its giant rubber wheels.
Henry was the first to walk away. As he passed Alan, he opened his hand. The coin rested in the lines of his aged palm. “I gave him the coin, but he gave it back.”
Alan fell into step with him. “Sir, I’m sorry… but I’m glad you tried.”
Henry stopped. “He did say to hold on to it for him. Maybe that means we’ll get to talk more when he gets back. Alan, you know Patrick better than I do. Is that what he means?”
The man was grasping for hope, and Alan had no desire to cut the thread he clung to. No, he’d rather cling to that same strand and believe Patrick wanted to start fresh with his family when he returned. “Yes, sir, I believe so.”
His mentor nodded then continued on toward the parking lot. Marcia and the kids walked past Alan as they followed Henry.
Gail stopped next to Alan. “He seems so broken.”
“I think he senses time is running out to connect with Patrick. I wish I could do something more to help.”
She slid her hand into his. “Just being around comforts him. I know he’s going to miss you, too.” Her smoky eyes captured his. “I will, too, you know. Alan, we need to talk, but I have to go with Marcia right now. She needs me. Can I come by your shop in a couple days?”
He squeezed her fingers. “Of course. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” She let go and caught up with her sister, who had been watching them. Gail picked up her niece and continued walking.
But Marcia stared at him a moment longer, her lips a tight straight line. She pointed a finger to one of her eyes then pointed at him.
He got the message, loud and clear.
Alan peeled the packing from the Tiffany lamp. Mr. Winston would be pleased that Alan had managed to find a second lamp to match the one he’d bought in the shop last week. With a gentle cleaning, the colors of the glass would come to life again.
The doorbell jingled. Alan checked his watch. Gail said she would come by at one so they could talk while he managed the store until Tara got back at three. But it was 12:45. She was early. He pocketed the salt dish he’d set aside for Gail’s niece.
His heart kicked up a notch. He’d tried not to imagine what she wanted to say to him, but the scene had played in his head many a time throughout the morning with two possible endings. Only one gave him hope. He set the lamp on a small table and left the back room. Somehow he would find a way to convince Gail they were meant to be together.
Alan stopped. Dropped his hands to his sides.
Marcia stood by the counter, alone. “You don’t look happy to see me, Alan.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Mrs. Wolfe.”
She sighed. “I know you’re waiting for my sister, but I was in the neighborhood and wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to my Patrick.” She held her left hand up, looking at her new engagement ring. “It meant the world to him that you helped find the perfect ring for me.”
“I was glad to help.”
She shifted her gaze back to him. Tears glittered in her eyes. “I miss him so much.” She covered her mouth with her hand. Her tears dropped to her cheeks and rolled tracks down to her fingers.
“Marcia… let me get you a tissue.” Alan strode into the back room and tugged a couple of tissues from the box on Tara’s desk. When he turned around, Marcia waited just inside the doorway.
“Here you go.” He held out the tissues.
“Thank you.” She dabbed her eyes. Moved closer to him. “You finally called me by my first name.” She moved even closer until mere inches separated them. “That means so much to me.”
Alan backed up, felt the edge of the small table against his leg. He hadn’t even realized he’d used her first name. How could he undo that? Marcia appeared genuinely distressed.
He shifted to go around her, intending to return to the safety of the storefront, but his movement brought him momentarily closer to her. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, crushing his mouth to hers.
He felt her oily lipstick on his mouth. Her strong perfume burned his nose. Alan grabbed her forearms and pushed away. He lost his balance, stumbled into the table. The sound of the front bell jingling came just before the crash of glass. Shards of colored bits lay strewn on the floor along with the rest of the now-mangled Tiffany lamp.
Gail’s gasp drew his gaze back up. She glanced between him and Marcia, eyes as round as her open mouth. Only then did Alan realize that Marcia had her arm around his waist and was straightening her skirt with her other hand. The implications appalled even him.
Alan pushed Marcia’s arm away. “Gail, it’s not what you think.” The words sounded hollow even to him.
Marcia walked past Gail. “I better be on my way. The children will be wondering where I am.” She stopped, turned around. “Alan, thank you for listening.” She dabbed at one eye with the tissues still clutched in her hand and left.
Alan blew out a long breath. The Tiffany lamp was shattered as well as what chance he had with Gail. He didn’t know what to say. Nothing sounded right in his head. He wiped his mouth to get ri
d of the feel of Marcia’s unwanted kiss, and by the red smear on his hand, her lipstick, too.
“Maybe it’s best that I go, too.” The corners of her mouth turned down, making her lips look fuller and pouty. But it was what lay in her eyes that made Alan want to sink to the floor along with the broken glass.
“Gail, please don’t go. You know me well enough by now to believe me when I say I have no interest in your sister. She showed up a few minutes before you came. I thought she was upset so I gave her a tissue. The next thing I know, she’s kissing me and the Tiffany…” He gestured at the lamp, digesting the amount of money he’d just lost. Money that would help Tara keep the store solvent. He crouched down and started picking up the pieces.
“Marcia’s not the one I care about.” He kept his head down… couldn’t bear to see her look at him that way again. “It’s you, Gail.”
From the corner of his eye he noticed her shift in position; then her hands were moving along the floor near his, collecting glass bits.
“I want to believe you, Alan. I know how my sister is. I also know that’s why so many of Patrick’s friends don’t come around anymore, because she’s slept—”
“I would never do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
Alan dropped the shards back to the floor. With his hands on her upper arms, he turned her to face him. “Then give me a chance. I think you care about me, too.”
“But I’m engaged. I already told Troy yes. I can’t go back on my word.”
“Do you love him?”
She pulled away and stood. “I guess you could say I do. Troy needs me.”
Alan rose then ran his thumb below her cheek. “What if I need you, too?”
Her eyes pleaded with him. “Please don’t say that. I’m already so confused. And seeing you with Marcia… and you’re leaving soon.”
“Nothing happened with your sister. She’s made advances before, which I’ve managed to avoid.” He fought the anger welling up inside him. Marcia was just a convenient door that Gail chose to hide behind. “And yes, I’m leaving soon, but then I’ll be back and—”
“Like Patrick came back?”
“Not if I know you’re here waiting for me.” Why couldn’t she see what was right in front of her? People didn’t just meet and fit together like they did on a daily basis.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… I need time to think.”
Alan stepped back. “Then take all the time you need. I just may not be here by the time you make up your mind.” He returned to his task of cleaning up the broken lamp. He’d let his anger take over, not something he wanted to admit.
He didn’t stop when he heard her walking away, but then he remembered the salt dish. “Gail, wait.”
She turned around and came back, avoiding eye contact with him.
Alan held out the dish. “I set this aside for your niece. It’s one of a kind. Usually they come in sets. Thought she might like it for her dolls.”
Gail reached out, her hand slow and tentative. Tears glimmered just on the surface of her eyes. “That’s so thoughtful. Thank you. I know she’ll love it.” She paused for a moment then placed the dish in her purse. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were dry, resolved. “Good-bye, Mr. James.”
“Good-bye, Miss Gibson.”
Even after the bell jingled, he didn’t move. Just stared at the door, remembering the last image of the woman he loved as she walked out of his life.
Chapter 6
Here we are, ma’am.”
The taxi driver’s words broke into the chaos and confusion buzzing through Gail’s head. She hadn’t noticed that the taxi had stopped and now sat in front of the Wolfe brownstone. On her way from the train station, she’d tried repeatedly to stop seeing the image of Alan crouched over that broken lamp, to no avail. The man just wouldn’t leave her thoughts or her heart. She nearly sobbed in the back of the taxi when she realized she spent more time thinking of Alan than Troy.
She paid the driver and got out. After the car left, she stood glued to the sidewalk, loathing the idea of seeing her sister. She believed Alan when he said he had no interest in Marcia. His integrity exceeded most men she’d met, matching her own father’s high standards. In fact, her father would probably approve more of Alan than Troy.
But she’d made a commitment. She knew she could help Troy become a man of potential. He needed a woman to stand by him and support him through his endeavors, especially with his health issues. And maybe he’d even help her pursue her dream of helping underprivileged teens.
She tried to picture him in that capacity, but every time she did, his face changed to Alan’s. Why could she see so much more with him? She straightened her spine and harrumphed. She had a plan, and she would stick to it.
“You know, you can stand there all day, but it won’t change a thing.”
Gail shot her attention up the stairs to the front door. Marcia stood with her hand on one hip and the other on the doorknob. Gail tugged the short straps of her purse to sit in the crook of her arm and marched to the door, fully intending to ignore her sister.
Marcia blocked her way. “It’s clear he’s in love with you.”
Gail stared at her sister, and for the first time, didn’t bother to school her expression. She hoped every bit of her anger showed. “Why do you even care? You’ve done everything you could think of to try and catch Alan’s attention. Why? So you can use him like you’ve done all of Patrick’s other friends? Well, guess what? It didn’t work. He sees right through you.”
Her sister shifted to face her, both hands on her hips. Defiance blazed a twisted trail on already-hardened features. Gail was ready for it, ready for the fight to end all fights. She’d had enough and had no qualms about putting an end to her sister’s antics in her life.
But then Marcia’s facade completely crumbled. That’s when Gail noticed her sister’s eyes were already red and swollen. Had she gotten bad news about Patrick?
“What’s wrong? Is Patrick okay?” All her anger dissolved in the flash of pending grief. Suddenly Gail found herself wanting to pray and ask God to bring her brother-in-law home safely, to pray as she had as a child. Why hadn’t she done this sooner?
Marcia shook her head then swallowed her sobs. “Are you kidding me? Your first thought is Patrick? Maybe you should have married him.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Patrick is just fine and dandy with his good ole boys in Vietnam. In the meantime, I’m stuck here with his latest brat in my belly and no life whatsoever.”
She spun around and slammed the door behind her, leaving Gail on the stoop alone. Pregnant? Another baby? Any hope she had for her sister fizzled with a pathetic pop in her heart. What she would give to have a family like hers. Her sister never saw it as anything but a burden.
Her nieces and nephew would need her even more now. Marcia’s moods tended to be long and wicked, and pregnancy only seemed to compound them. She should talk to Troy and discuss this with him. What affected her future would affect his, too.
Tomorrow she’d go into the city again and surprise Troy with a visit, maybe entice him to lunch and some time in Central Park. She could show him Bow Bridge….
Again Alan’s face nestled into that place in her mind that had a direct connection to her heart. He’d almost kissed her that day.
Gail ignored the part of her that still longed for that kiss. The sooner she put that behind her, the sooner she could make plans for her next little niece or nephew. She’d do whatever was necessary to make sure that little one came into the world knowing he or she was loved.
Alan shoved the box onto an upper shelf in the back room. The contents shifted, clinking the glass bits of the broken lamp inside. Maybe he’d need parts of it to repair another Tiffany down the road. Didn’t matter. He’d find another one for Mr. Winston eventually.
“You know, you could send Marcia Wolfe the bill for that lamp.” Tara passed him and plopped into the seat at her desk. “Maybe she’d take responsibility
for herself for once.”
“What delusional dream world are you residing in now, little sister?” Alan tucked the side of his shirt back into the waistband of his jeans. “I seriously doubt that will ever happen.”
She leaned forward and propped her chin in her hand. “I just don’t get it. Marcia and Gail are so different. I see the family resemblance, but beyond that, it’s like they’re from completely different families.”
Alan ignored the way his stomach clenched right into his chest with the mention of Gail’s name. “Nobody’s perfect, Tara. Some just have more awareness of how they impact the lives of others. Some don’t.”
“I think you should call her.”
“Marcia?”
“No, you idiot. Gail. Clearly you both have feelings for each other.”
“I’d really rather not talk about it. Gail made her choice. She’s engaged. End of story.”
“I disagree.”
Alan laughed. “Cool it, okay? The subject is closed.”
She just sat there and stared at him. Wouldn’t stop staring at him. He threw his hands up and blew out the breath he was holding. He wanted more than anything to believe Tara was right, but Gail had made her choice clear. She hadn’t just said a simple good-bye yesterday. She’d said good-bye as in good-bye forever. The door had closed and rung the bell….
He stomped out of the back room and started unloading the small box of salt dishes that had arrived earlier that morning from an estate sale in the Hamptons. Several more boxes were due to arrive the next day, bearing his latest acquirements along with some additional inventory to keep the shop going for quite awhile. Tara wouldn’t need to do any estate sales for the first six months of his absence.
Alan finished arranging the salt dishes and went to toss the box in the back room, but a small clunk stopped him. He weeded through the tissue and found another dish. A loner, almost identical to the one he’d given Gail. Small in size, round and simple in design, yet this simplicity was probably what gave it more beauty than some of its detailed counterparts. He pocketed the antique, chiding himself for still holding on to an impossibility but loathe to let it go.
Central Park Rendezvous Page 8
