by Maria Geraci
Annie wasn’t kidding when she’d written that the locals were obsessed with the city’s heritage. The clerk, a guy named Rudy who looked old enough to have been on staff since the hotel’s opening, handed him a brochure with a timeline of the town’s major historical events along with his room key.
He gave Sam’s registration card a thorough look-over. “Missouri plates, huh?”
“It’s a rental car,” Sam explained.
“We don’t get many tourists from Missouri here.”
“I’m not—yeah, Missouri. Great state.” Because sometimes it was just easier to go along with it.
“How long do you plan to stay?”
“A few days. How’s the fishing around here?”
The old guy reached under the counter to produce a stack of business cards, rifled through them, then slid one toward Sam. “If you want to do any deep-sea fishing, give Paul a ring. He’ll set you up.”
Sam glanced at the card. “Esposito Deep Sea Tours. Any relation to the car dealership?”
“Why? You looking to buy a car?” Rudy craned his head to take a look through the glass doors at Sam’s rental. “That one looks pretty new to me, but to each his own. Paul’s uncle, Frank Sr., owns the car dealership, but he’s been stepping away from the business for a while. I hear he’s gonna let the son and the daughter take it over.” He lowered his voice. “The daughter had herself a fancy boyfriend who moved to Paris. Or was it Madrid?” He rubbed his chin like somehow that would help him find the answer.
It was London.
“Anyway,” Rudy continued, “he dumped her real hard, so she came back to town to lick her wounds. Hold on. I think I got a card for them too.” He rummaged through the cards again and handed Sam one for Esposito’s Used Cars.
“Thanks.” Sam dropped his luggage off in his room, then pulled out the card to study it. That had been too easy. If he believed in fate, he’d think it was pushing him toward this meeting with Annie. He might as well get it over with. He got back in his car and drove to the dealership.
Located on the edge of town, Esposito’s Used Cars took up half a city block, a larger and neater-looking organization than Sam had envisioned. He pulled into an empty space in front of the office and was about to get out of the car when he stopped cold. In theory, the idea had seemed simple, but what was he supposed to say to a woman he’d never met before?
Becks probably had a script written for the occasion, but Sam couldn’t simply walk into the office, go up to Annie and tell her to get a life.
He’d have to sit her down. Explain to her that while he appreciated that she’d taken the time to write him a letter, she shouldn’t break up with her boyfriend (what was his name again? Oh yeah, Walter) because of anything he’d said on television.
Two women came out the front door to the office, purses strapped around their shoulders, and walked over to their respective cars. Neither of them looked like the photo Becks had shown him on the website.
It was after five thirty. More than likely, the office was closing up. His stomach grumbled violently. All he’d eaten today was a stale granola bar at the DFW airport. What if Annie got all emotional? Or worse, what if she cried? He couldn’t deal with that on an empty stomach.
He’d been too hasty coming here. His best course of action was to get some food, followed by a solid night’s sleep. Then, with a clear head fueled by some caffeine, he’d come back first thing in the morning to have their talk. Of course, he could be too late. That letter was probably written a week ago. She could have already broken up with Walter and all this could be for nothing. Not much he could do about that, though. He’d promised Becks he’d do this, so he would. Once he’d taken care of this Annie Esposito business, his conscience would be clear, and he could get in some fishing.
Now, where to eat? According to the GPS, his options were limited to a few chain restaurants, some fast-food places, a couple of beachside joints and a local diner called The Miramar Café that had a lot of five-star reviews. The diner it was.
He followed the directions into the small downtown area, which consisted of one major street paved with cobblestones. Dividing the street and right across from the diner was a roundabout where a statue of a Spanish conquistador holding a sword in the air stood in the middle of a grassy knoll. There was a post office and a doctor’s office, a flower shop, a bookstore and several empty storefronts, all with For Lease signs in front.
He’d just parked his car when his cell phone rang. It was Becks.
“I hope you’re on your way to Atlanta,” he said.
“Well hello to you too. And yes, Mom and I are at the airport. She says hi by way. So,” Becks said breathlessly, “have you met Annie yet? Is she as terrific in person as her letter?”
“I’m saving that for tomorrow. By the way, wasn’t there an episode of Single Gal on last night?”
“Yep. The first hour was all pre-taped, then the last hour was live. You won’t believe it, but the Duck is still there,” she said in disgust. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I was hoping this new episode would take the heat off me.”
“The guys who got kicked off last night were total losers. They interviewed one of them on Good Morning, USA, and Kelly Seacrest literally yawned in his face. The whole thing just made you look more awesome.”
Not what Sam wanted to hear.
“Oops. Gotta go,” said Becks. “They’re boarding the plane. Text me the instant you meet Annie. Mom and I want to hear all about it.” She hung up before he could tell her not to get her hopes up.
Sam left his phone on the car console and walked into the diner, where the smell of home cooking made his mouth water. A friendly-looking redhead wearing a black skirt and white shirt greeted him at the door. “Welcome to The Miramar Café.” She picked up a menu, then led him to a booth with a window that faced the roundabout. Her name tag read “Connie.” “Our Tuesday night special is the meat loaf, but everything here is good.”
He didn’t bother looking at the menu. “Then I’ll have the meat loaf.”
“You won’t regret it.” She smiled carefully. “Are you new to town?”
Something in Connie’s tone put him on alert. “Yep. I’m just here for a few days of fishing.”
“Oh, so you’re a tourist?”
“Yep.”
“Huh. We don’t get many of those. Most tourists go to St. Augustine.” She cocked her head to the side like she was trying to figure something out. “I swear I’ve seen you before.” Then she snapped her fingers like it just occurred to her. “You know who you look like? This guy who was on Single Gal. You know, the reality TV dating show? His name is Gas Station Sam.”
He tried not to flinch at that ridiculous moniker. He hated lying, but the last thing he wanted was to be asked to pose for another selfie and end up on someone’s Facebook or Instagram page. Or worse, have her call one of those nosy “journalists” who’d hounded him at the airport. “Never heard of him. My name is Roy.” He made a mental note to pay with cash.
“Really? Because you’re the spitting image of—” The door to the café opened, causing Connie to whip around. Her face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Tuesday night at six. Right on time.”
Sam followed her gaze to the couple who’d just walked into the café. The man, mid-thirties, wore a suit and the woman was … holy hell. She was taller than Sam had envisioned from her picture, but there was no doubt that this was Annie Esposito. If she got a look at him, he’d be outed.
He snatched the menu from Connie’s hand and held it up to hide his face. He didn’t want to have to explain lying about his identity, and he certainly didn’t want to have his talk with Annie here in the middle of a busy restaurant. Especially not in front of her boyfriend. That is, if the guy she was with was her boyfriend. He could be her brother, for all Sam knew.
“Did you change your mind about the meat loaf?” Connie asked.
“Uh, no,” said Sam, his face still hidden inside
the menu. “Meat loaf is good. I’m just looking ahead to dessert.”
“In that case, the key lime pie is our specialty, but I can also recommend the chocolate chip fudge cake.”
“I’ll just keep looking, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll bring you some water.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Annie and the guy in the suit walk past him.
“Hey, Annie. Hi, Walter,” Connie called out. “I got your usual booth ready for you.”
So, this was the infamous Walter. If Annie was having dinner with Walter, then it meant Sam wasn’t too late after all. He tried to relax, but fate was being a real bitch tonight because their “usual booth” was the one directly behind his. The only thing that now stood between him and Annie was a thinly cushioned partition.
Connie brought him his water. “Decide on dessert yet?”
Sam reluctantly lowered the menu. “I’ll take the key lime pie.”
“Good choice.” She took back the menu and headed to another table.
“How was your day?” he heard Walter ask. Sam leaned back in his seat to better hear Annie’s answer. It felt voyeuristic, or something a little old lady would do, but the way the booths were set up, he couldn’t have avoided overhearing their conversation even if he wanted to.
“It was great,” said Annie. It was the first time he’d heard her voice. He didn’t know her, but something in her tone told him she was lying. She’d had a crummy day. Either that, or she was tense.
Connie startled him by laying a plate of food and a bottle of ketchup down on the table. Had she caught him listening in to the conversation in the next booth? If she had, there was nothing in her expression to reveal it. “Here you go, hon. Can I get you anything else?”
“This all looks great, thanks,” he said.
She left to take Annie and Walter’s order. “Two meat loaf specials?” he heard Connie ask.
“I’ll have the fish,” said Annie.
“Not this again,” Walter said. “Didn’t we go through this last week?”
“This time I’m really having the fish,” Annie said firmly.
“Don’t expect me to switch plates again,” said Walter.
Walter either hadn’t picked up on the tightness in Annie’s voice or he didn’t care, because he spent the next twenty minutes talking about the workings of some law firm that nearly put Sam to sleep. He’d only gotten a quick glimpse of the guy as he’d walked through the door, but Sam already had him pegged as the useless self-important type. Not that Sam had anything against lawyers. On the contrary, he employed a whole team of them. Or rather, the company did. But there was something especially smarmy about this one that made the back of Sam’s neck itch. It was the way he talked to Annie. Every time she tried to bring the subject around to something halfway interesting, Walter would find a way to detour the conversation back to him.
Sam had just finished his meat loaf when he heard Annie announce, “Walter, I need to talk to you about something important.”
Uh-oh. Sam laid down his fork.
“I told you not to order the fish,” Walter said. “You’ve barely touched it. You should have stuck with the meat loaf.” The strain in Annie’s voice should have put Walter on alert. Instead, the guy had just brushed her off again. What a dick.
“It’s not about the fish,” said Annie. “It’s about us.”
“What about us?”
Tomorrow morning would be too late. She was breaking up with him in the middle of dinner at The Miramar Café.
“Maybe we should take a break, Walter.”
There was a long, drawn-out silence before Walter responded. “What kind of break?”
He’d come to town to tell Annie not to break up with Walter, but after listening in on their conversation, Sam was convinced Annie could do a lot better than this guy. Breaking up with him was probably the smartest thing she could do. Eventually, she would have done it on her own, he could see that now. Hence, there was no need to feel guilty. And, more importantly, no need to try to talk her out of anything.
Suddenly, Sam felt a whole lot better about everything. He scooped up the last of his key lime pie. Connie was right. This was damn good stuff.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” Annie said, “and I really do think it’s best that—”
Sam started coughing violently. The pie, as his mother liked to say, had gone down the wrong way. Connie, who was walking around the tables refilling water glasses, froze at the sound of his hacking. Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God, Roy, are you choking? Do you need help?”
Choking? Nah. He just needed a minute to get the pie down, but before he could put a hand up in the air to allay her fear, she yelled, “This man needs help! He’s choking.”
A half dozen people jumped up from their seats and ran to crowd around his booth, including Annie and Walter. “I know CPR,” said Walter. “I can do the Heimlich!”
9
What in the world? Was that Sam DeLuca sitting in the booth next to hers? Choking? They locked gazes. He was coughing and his face was slightly red, but other than that, he didn’t seem to be in distress. Annie thought back to the CPR course she and Walter had taken together just a couple of months ago. If a person is actively coughing, let them cough out the obstruction on their own.
Walter must have missed that part of the class because he not so gently nudged her out of the way. “I need room to work.” He pointed to Connie. “You, in the black skirt,” he said, like he didn’t know her name. “Call for help!”
Connie pulled a cell phone from her shirt pocket and began frantically punching in numbers.
“Walter,” said Annie, “maybe we should let him cough it up on his—”
“Annie, for God’s sake, the man’s life is in danger. Didn’t you pay any attention in class? If we don’t get the obstruction out, his airway will close.”
Sam DeLuca stood from his seat to face them. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m—”
But Walter didn’t let him finish. In a movement that startled not just Sam but Annie as well, Walter grabbed Sam by the elbow, then wrapped his arms around his chest. The hand placement didn’t look right for the Heimlich Maneuver, but Annie didn’t think Walter was open to suggestions right now.
Sam looked over his shoulder to give Walter an incredulous look that almost made Annie laugh. Except, he also looked ready to punch Walter in the nose.
“Don’t worry, Roy,” Connie said soothingly, “Walter knows what he’s doing. And help is on the way.”
Roy? Who the heck was Roy?
Sam easily worked his way out of Walter’s grasp. “Thanks, but I’m not choking.” He picked up his glass of water and took a big swig.
“You’re not?” Walter sounded disappointed.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then why did you act like you were choking?”
“Yeah,” said Connie adding to the accusation. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Look,” said Sam, “I appreciate your concern. But I’m good now.” His Texas drawl sounded even yummier in person than it did on TV.
“Are you sure?” asked Walter. “There could still be something lodged in your throat. Maybe I should try to clear it out anyway.”
The door to the diner opened, and Annie’s cousin Sophie, dressed in scrubs and carrying a small backpack, walked into the diner. Her dark eyes scoured the dining area.
“Over here!” yelled Connie. Sophie briskly made her way through the small crowd of diners that had gathered around to gawk.
“What are you doing here?” Annie asked her cousin.
“Connie called the office and said that a customer needed help, so I ran over.” Sophie worked for Doc Barnes, the only GP in Old Explorer’s Bay. Their office was located across the street. “We stay open late every Tuesday for walk-ins.”
“I figured Sophie and Doc were a lot closer than the fire department,” said Connie.
Walter nodded approvingly. “Goo
d idea. That was really smart of you.”
Connie blushed at the compliment.
“So, where’s the big emergency?” asked Sophie.
Sam or Roy or whatever his name was spoke up. “That would be me. Sorry for the misunderstanding, but I’m fine. Thanks.”
Now that the “emergency” was over, Annie could take a longer look at him. Same light brown hair, same green eyes. No doubt about it. This was Sam DeLuca. She’d watched his TV interviews enough times to have practically memorized every pore on his face.
What on earth was he doing in Old Explorer’s Bay?
“Since I’m here,” said Sophie, “do you mind if I check you out?” She smiled at her own double entendre.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Sophie took out her stethoscope, listened to his chest and his back, then took his pulse. “I think you’ll live.” She smiled at Connie in approval. “Good call. Better safe than sorry.” She put a hand up in the air to address the café patrons. “Everything is fine, folks. You can all go back to your dinner.”
A collective murmur of relief swept through the restaurant. In less than a minute, the noise level returned to the familiar sound of silverware clinking and hushed conversations. A few people stared at Sam longer than necessary, but whether it was because they recognized him from TV or because they were curious about the new stranger in town, Annie wasn’t sure.
“Is he going to be okay?” Walter asked Sophie. “Because I’m still ready to do the Heimlich.”
Sophie patted Walter on the arm as if he were a puppy waiting to be praised. “Thanks for your … enthusiasm, but the Heimlich isn’t needed here. Not today, anyway.”
“You were fantastic, Walter,” said Connie.
This perked him up. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah. In all my years of waitressing, that’s only been my second customer choking, and the first time was a total mess. No one knew what to do, only thank God the guy survived, you know? This time though, it was wonderful having someone be so … in charge. You!” Connie said, mimicking Walter’s voice, “In the black skirt. Call for help!” She shuddered. “You were so masterful. I still have goosebumps.”
