by Lee Hollis
And with that, Hayley spun around and followed Carrie out of the hotel, trying to hold on to her last shred of dignity after behaving like a star-struck groupie.
After taking the girls out for pizza at Geddy’s, Hayley drove Carrie to her house on Ledgelawn Avenue. When she pulled up, Hayley felt a knot in her stomach. Ned Weston’s car was in the driveway and all the lights were on in the house. He had beaten them home. Through the rearview mirror, even though it was already dark outside, Hayley could make out the look of fear on Carrie’s face in the back seat.
“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Powell. See you at school tomorrow, Gemma,” Carrie said quickly as she bolted out of the car and scurried across the lawn toward the front door of the house.
Before she had a chance to reach it, the door swung open and the angry face of Ned Weston peered out. He was a bear of a man, though no match for Curtis, Wade Springer’s unhappy watchdog.
Ned could have been considered a handsome man, with a sexy shaved head that reminded Hayley of that hot British Starfleet commander from Star Trek, Patrick Stewart. But Ned’s dark and unfriendly personality ruined any chance that a woman might be attracted to him.
In fact, he struck Hayley as downright menacing.
Hayley watched Ned’s face turn beet red as Carrie tried to explain why she hadn’t been there when he got home from work. Carrie pointed toward the car and Ned whipped his head around, glaring at Hayley.
Hayley offered a weak smile and a quick wave, but Ned didn’t acknowledge her. He just grabbed Carrie by the arm and dragged her into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
“What a jerk,” Gemma spit out from the back seat.
“You think she’s going to be all right?” Hayley asked.
“Oh, yeah. He’ll yell at her for a while until he gets tired and then he’ll just go watch ESPN or Fox News. It’s not like he ever hits her or anything. She’d tell me if he did.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
Hayley slowly pulled the car away from the curb, keeping one eye on the house, wishing there was something she could do to help poor Carrie, but knowing she was powerless to do anything, and it was an awful feeling.
Chapter 4
The following morning Hayley had finally given up hope that Wade would ever read her column or have any idea that she could cook.
Any chance of getting hired to be his personal chef was a mere pipe dream.
So after making the kids’ lunches and downing two cups of coffee, she fired up her Subaru wagon and drove to work, satisfied that at least she could get a good seat at one of the concerts thanks to Liddy’s position on the board of directors at the Criterion Theatre.
When she arrived at work, Sal was standing near her desk in the front office chatting to Bruce, while chowing down on a bagel with cream cheese. Bruce was running down a list of suspects he had made up the night before regarding the recent rash of break-ins.
Bruce was determined to solve the case and become the town hero.
Solving a crime. Meeting Wade Springer. Hayley chuckled to herself. We all have our goals in life.
Maybe it was time for her to find a more serious one. She made the decision to forget all this silliness and just focus on her next column.
That’s right about the time the phone rang.
“Island Times, Hayley speaking,” she said as she slid behind her desk and picked it up.
“Okay, you know how when you go to bed every night and get down on your knees and thank the good Lord he brought me into your life?”
It was Liddy.
“Um, no, Liddy, I really don’t do that,” Hayley said, laughing.
“Well, honey, you better start because I’m your guardian angel and I am about to bring loving light and happiness into your otherwise dreary life!”
“What have you gone and done now?”
“I just came from a board of directors meeting at the Criterion.”
“Please tell me you got us front row seats.”
“Oh, sweetie, this is much bigger than that. Are you wearing something nice? Because, in twenty minutes, you’re going to meet Wade Springer in his hotel room!”
“What?” Hayley screamed.
Sal was so startled by her shriek he spilled coffee down the front of his shirt. Another Walmart shirt bit the dust.
He glared at Hayley, but she was too excited to notice. Sal pushed past Bruce and stalked off to the bathroom to scrub the stain.
“What are you talking about?” Hayley asked breathlessly, lowering her voice in a vain attempt to restore a little office etiquette.
“Well, the reason Wade has come to town early is because he’s a big outdoorsman and wants to do some biking, hike some trails, maybe climb to the top of Door Mountain. He’s going to play tourist.”
“And he needs a local guide and you recommended me?” Hayley said, trying not to scream again.
“Honey, when was the last time you climbed a man, let alone a mountain?”
Liddy had a point.
“And do you even own a bike?”
She had had a moped once. But then it broke down and she couldn’t afford to fix it so it was now sitting in her garage, rusted from being parked under a leak in her roof after a heavy rainstorm.
“So anyway,” Liddy said, almost as breathlessly as Hayley, “I suggested at the meeting today that since we have some time before the concert, it might not be a bad idea to do some publicity, meet with a couple of papers for interviews, do a local radio show, really talk up why Wade is here and his passion for ocean research, and since you work for the Island Times. . . .”
“Liddy, I write a cooking column.”
“Well, they don’t have to know that. I told his manager you were the town’s premier entertainment reporter!”
“You lied?”
“Of course I lied. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘desperate situations require desperate measures’? Now find a mirror and make sure your hair isn’t too frizzy.”
“I can’t go now. I just got into the office. And Sal’s here.”
“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Hayley. It’s now or never. Are you going to let something as insignificant as a job get in your way of meeting Wade Springer?”
“Says the woman who just got a commission from a two-point-three million dollar house sale last month.”
“Hayley, this is your chance. And if you don’t do it, then I am going to go and say I’m the Island Times’ answer to Nancy O’Dell and meet him in your place.”
“I don’t know. . . .”
“You’re a smart woman. You can think of some way to get out of there. Now get off the phone. You’re wasting valuable time.”
Hayley hung up and sprung to her feet. “We need petty cash!”
Bruce gave her a curious look. “Didn’t you just go to the bank yesterday?”
“Sal’s birthday is coming up and I want to plan a little party. Some wine, a block of cheese, and some crackers.”
Sal ambled out into the front office, the remnants of his coffee stain still visible on his lime green short-sleeved shirt. “My birthday isn’t for another three weeks.”
“You always tell me I leave things to the last minute. Well, this is my effort to improve before my next job evaluation.”
Sal really couldn’t argue with that.
And it was a good thing, too, because Hayley was already out the door.
There were still enough tourists in town to make parking nearly impossible near the Harborside Hotel so Hayley ran all the way to the town pier, veering right on West Street. She was out of breath and sweating when she burst into the lobby. She paused to catch her breath before casually approaching the desk clerk, a young bearded man in his midtwenties whose massive frame was squeezed into a black vest which was obviously too small for his size.
“I’m here to see Wade Springer,” Hayley said, practically choking from her run across town.
“And you are?”
“H
ayley Powell,” she said, wheezing. “Entertainment reporter for the Island Times.”
The clerk cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t even know they had one.”
He picked up a phone and punched in some numbers.
Hayley pulled a compact out of her bag and checked herself. Disaster was an understatement. The sweat from her sprint to the hotel had caused her mascara to run and her hair looked as if she had just stuck her finger into an electric socket.
The clerk hung up and stared at Hayley.
Uh oh.
Looked like the jig was up.
“Go on up. Room two-thirty-three,” he said, and returned to his computer.
As Hayley turned to go, she thought she heard the clerk mutter lucky bitch under his breath.
Hayley stopped off in the ladies’ room and tried to repair her frazzled appearance. But she knew Wade’s time was limited so it wasn’t as if she could do a complete makeover. She wiped off the runaway mascara, pulled her wild hair into a ponytail, sprayed a little perfume from her bag into the air and stepped into the mist, and then hoped for the best.
When she arrived in front of the door to room 233, the butterflies were definitely free in her stomach.
And her hand was shaking as she reached up to knock on the door.
She patted down her blouse, groaning to herself that this was the shirt that made her look fat, but she wanted something roomy to wear this morning because she wanted fried clams for lunch.
The door swung open and a man was there.
But it wasn’t Wade.
This guy was short and stout with dyed yellow hair.
And wearing sunglasses.
Indoors.
“Hayley? I’m Billy Ray Cyrus.”
“No you’re not.” Hayley couldn’t help herself. He didn’t look anything like Miley’s dad.
“There are two of us. And it’s been a pain in my ass ever since he became famous for ‘Achy Breaky Heart.’”
“I see. I’m sorry, Mr. Cyrus.”
“But then he only had one hit and kind of disappeared and I was just reclaiming my life and identity again and then—boom!—his spawn becomes this huge child star and so his name is right back in the public eye all over again and once more my life is ruined. But you’re not here to talk about me and my issues. Please, come in.”
He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her inside, shutting the door behind him. “We’ve been hiding from screaming fans and nosy paparazzi all day. I don’t know how Wade thinks he’s going to go jogging in the park later without getting mobbed.”
The room was a suite. With a large living room and plush furnishings. Fresh flowers and bowls of fruit.
Hayley had no idea there was anything so glamorous in Bar Harbor.
Or maybe they just dressed it up for Wade.
“You have five minutes. We have the Bangor Daily News and the Herald coming in a little while. I tried to read your column in the Times but couldn’t find it.”
“I’ve been on vacation.”
Billy Ray led Hayley to the couch and she sat down.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
At that moment, Wade bounded out of the bedroom wearing a black dress shirt and jeans and his signature white cowboy hat.
It was like a dream.
Billy Ray began to leave but Hayley reached out and snagged his shirt. “Maybe some water. I’m having trouble breathing.”
Billy Ray nodded as he pulled free from her grip and disappeared out the door, leaving Hayley alone with Wade.
Wade stuck out a strong, big, masculine hand. “Wade Springer, nice to meet you.”
Hayley was speechless.
Probably for the first time in her life.
She nodded.
Just staring at his hand.
Not taking it.
To the point where it got really uncomfortable.
Finally, Wade gave up trying to shake her hand and took a seat on the love seat opposite her. “So, fire away. What do you want to know?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, that’s just about the shortest interview I’ve ever sat through.”
“No, I mean I’m not sure there’s anything you can tell me that I don’t already know about you. How’s Rip?”
Wade gave her a funny look. “My dog?”
Hayley nodded.
“Dead.”
“Omigod. I’m so sorry.”
“Died about ten years ago.”
“See, I knew that. I’m just really nervous.”
“Well, take a deep breath and relax, Hayley.”
Hayley nodded.
Not taking a deep breath.
And not relaxing.
“Why don’t I start with a question to break the ice?”
Hayley nodded again.
“How long have you been an entertainment reporter?”
Suddenly Hayley felt a pang of guilt. She was sitting just a few feet away from her all-time favorite country music singer, but she was there under false pretenses. She didn’t feel right lying to Wade of all people.
“About five years.”
Five years? Where did that even come from?
The door opened and Billy Ray came in and handed Hayley a bottled water.
“You have three minutes left, Hayley. Make it count.”
Hayley just stared at Wade, unable to speak, her mind a blank.
This was a disaster. She felt like jumping to her feet and bolting out of the room and forgetting this whole thing.
“Is that you?” Billy Ray said, scooping up a newspaper that was lying on the coffee table that separated her from Wade.
Hayley’s heart sank.
It was a copy of the Island Times.
And it was open to her cooking column.
Billy Ray scrunched up his face as he looked at it.
“Something wrong, Billy Ray?” Wade asked.
Billy Ray read a few paragraphs and hurled the paper down on the table. “She’s a fraud. She’s not an entertainment reporter. She writes a column about food and drinks.”
“My two favorite subjects,” Wade said with a smile.
Billy Ray hovered over Hayley threateningly. “I think you should go now.”
“Yes, of course,” Hayley said, casting her eyes downward as she stood up, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Billy Ray escorted her to the door.
A deep southern voice boomed from behind them. “Wait, Billy Ray. This is the woman I was telling you about.”
Stop the presses. Wade Springer? Talking about her?
Hayley casually pinched herself to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep at her desk and was dreaming.
“Do you know she snuck into the kitchen of that little cafe we ate at yesterday and cooked me my breakfast?” Wade said.
He turned to Hayley and winked. “Best omelette I ever had. I went to give my compliments to the chef, I forget his name. . . .”
“Kelton, he’s a friend,” Hayley managed to get out.
“Kelton, that’s right. Anyway, he came clean and told me about Hayley.”
“I could have that restaurant shut down for something like that,” Billy Ray said.
“Oh, don’t be squawking like a flustered hen, Billy Ray. I think it’s about the sweetest thing I ever heard,” Wade said, charmed.
“I have some phone calls to make,” Billy Ray sniffed, knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere with his boss, so he may as well retreat to another room.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been entirely inappropriate misrepresenting myself,” Hayley said.
“You’re not misrepresenting yourself now. I know exactly who you are.”
“Thank you for understanding. I better go.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Hayley couldn’t think of anything more exciting than being held against her will by Wade Springer.
But she knew that was definitely a dream.
“Not until I get a
taste of that famous fried chicken I read about.”
“So you read my column?”
“Every word. And it just so happens I need someone to cook for me while I’m in town. Nothing fancy. Some grits for breakfast, maybe a packed lunch for when I go sightseeing, a light supper. Think you can handle that?”
Hayley knew it would be impossible again for her to speak so she just nodded.
“Great. You can start tomorrow.”
“What about your dinner tonight? I can whip something up when I get off work.”
“No, I already have plans.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You and I are going to go out to celebrate your coming to work for me.”
Hayley’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
Did Wade Springer just ask her out on a date?
No, of course he didn’t.
On the other hand, it did sound a lot like he just asked her out.
On a date.
With him.
Sometimes dreams really do come true.
Chapter 5
Mass hysteria.
That’s the best way to describe what was happening in Hayley’s house as she prepared for her dinner with Wade Springer.
What to wear.
How to flatten her hair.
And why did she have to eat a tub of ice cream after work? Her stomach was now actually protruding over her belt. Would Wade mind her wearing stretch pants to dinner? Jenny Craig would be so disappointed in her. This was all too much.
Deep breaths, Hayley. Deep breaths. She had to focus.
Makeup. She needed to put on her makeup. And not too much mascara because she sometimes looked like a hungover raccoon.
She hadn’t been this excited about a date since the first night she had gone out with Lex.
Of course, that night she wound up arrested before she even left the driveway. But that was another story.
Wait.
Hayley stopped herself.
Date.
She was thinking about this dinner as a date. What on earth was she doing? This wasn’t a date. Wade was her employer as of today. She was letting her imagination run wild.
She needed to calm down.
Hayley fumbled through her bedroom closet for a sweater that didn’t have too much noticeable dog hair on it. She yanked out a sleek black one. Black was slimming, right?
