Seaside Gifts: a Seaside romance (Hometown Romance)

by Gayle Roper

  "I'm getting used to it." Was that a smile she heard in his voice or just wishful thinking?

  "I need to go," she said. "But you don't have to. And I won't hold it against you if you don't."

  "But then you'd be going alone."

  She heard a shell crack beneath her feet. "There are worse things."

  "Tell me what time, and I'll arrive in my pumpkin carriage."

  Relief washed through her. She did not want to go alone. "I'll be waiting in my glass slippers."

  When he leaned over, it was so easy to turn her face to his.

  His lips were soft, his chin scratchy, and his arms around her strong.

  Chapter Twenty

  A quick trip to Seaside's lone bridal shop Thursday morning brought a chirpy saleswoman to Nan's side before the door had even closed behind her. She was not the smooth saleswoman in black seen on Say Yes to the Dress. From her fuchsia T-shirt that read in curving black script Seaside Brides Are the Prettiest to her rhinestone-encrusted flip-flops, she was a seashore woman.

  "Oh, my dear," she sparkled, "you'll be such a lovely bride."

  "Uh, I'm not the bride."

  "Bridesmaid, then?"

  Nan shook her head. "I need a dress for a formal event, but—" She hated saying she couldn't spend much. All her money had to go back into Present Perfect, so she had little to spare for a one-time event dress.

  Some of the chirp disappeared as the saleswoman saw large commissions disappearing, but she understood what Nan didn't articulate. "Our sale room is over here."

  She led the way to a little alcove where dresses were scrunched together on a rack. "Discontinued models and samples from this summer's line, which of course has now been replaced by next summer's dresses. Our brides are wonderful at planning ahead." Which Nan obviously was not.

  The store's door opened to five women, obviously a bride and her friends, and the woman disappeared without a backward glance.

  Nan studied the yards of colorful cloth pressed into one big fabric rainbow. How was she to find a single dress in this crush? At least things were arranged by size.

  She pulled dresses free and examined them, stuffing them back as her desperation grew. What if she didn't find anything she liked? There was no way she could drive to her parents' house to recover a dress from the things stored there. She could just hear her mother.

  "You can't come to my party, but you can come for a dress? Where are your priorities, Nanette?"

  Well, when all else fails, pray. Right?

  Dear Lord, I need a dress.

  She knew He was probably not too happy with her for making believe things were more with Rog than they were, but she really did need a dress. Please, Lord!

  And there it was, a silky soft sage green dress with a full, swirling skirt and a scoop neck that would sit at her collarbone. She had just the necklace of faux pearls and crystals in the store to finish it off.

  She tried the dress on, turning and twirling in front of the three-way mirror, thrilled with the fit. She pulled her bone-colored T-straps out of her bag and slid them on. Not really the shoes the dress called for, but her strappy silver stilettos were at Mom and Dad's with her formals and she'd never quite gotten around to getting glass slippers.

  "Ah, you found something," said the saleswoman. "I must say, it looks wonderful on you."

  Nan would have appreciated the compliment more if the woman didn't sound so surprised.

  Thursday night, she waited anxiously for Rog. She kept checking her reflection in the full-length mirror mounted on the back of the bedroom door. She thought of going down and asking Tammy and Ingrid how she looked but decided against it. It felt too tell-me-I'm-pretty.

  Well, she felt pretty, and her heart fluttered at the thought of Rog's reaction. He'd mainly seen her in Present Perfect shirts and slacks. What would he think of her tonight?

  She grinned as she recalled how she had been dreading this night. It was amazing what a lovely dress could do to one's outlook. Well, a lovely dress and an adorable man.

  The back buzzer sounded. He was here. She hurried to the top of the stairs and

  stopped. Slow and easy, Nan. Slow and easy. She was not a sixteen-year-old on a first date.

  True, but Roger Smedley Eastman was waiting for her. She grinned and hurried downstairs. The peep camera showed him looking very handsome in a tux. What was it about a man in a tux? Nan's hand went to her rapidly beating heart.

  She pulled the door open, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then Rog's mouth quirked up in a half smile.

  "You look wonderful."

  She grinned. "You look pretty good yourself." Adorable!

  "Your dress matches your wall color."

  She pretended offense. "That's the best you can do?"

  He tried to look confused. "Well, it does."

  "I was going more for a match to my eyes."

  He gave her a sly, twinkling look. "Your eyes are too lovely to compare to anything as trivial as a dress, no matter how pretty."

  She laughed, delighted.

  He stepped inside and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. It was just a peck, but she was certain her heart stuttered. She kept looking at him, hoping for more, maybe a repeat of last night's.

  "We've got company." Rog gave a head tilt toward the office door behind her. She spun and found Tammy, Ingrid, and Mooch crowded in the doorway.

  Tammy rushed forward. "Oh, Nan, you look so pretty." She pulled out her phone. "Pictures!"

  "But not in the office," Ingrid said. "We don't want clutter in the background. Outside."

  They trooped out to the narrow boardwalk that ran behind the line of shops.

  "Who's minding the store?" Nan asked.

  "No one." Tammy waved a hand to shoo that tiny problem away. "We'll only be a moment."

  Nan began, "Someone—"

  "I'll go." Ingrid headed back inside. "But you both look great!"

  "Okay, first just Nan," Tammy ordered. Obediently, Nan stood by the railing that edged the narrow boardwalk. As she smiled for the kids, she thought the parking lot and motel behind them were only a marginally better background than the office clutter.

  "Now just Rog." Tammy motioned to him.

  Nan moved aside, and Rog leaned casually against the rail.

  Mooch pulled out a phone too, his expression all calculation. "More GQ, Rog. Hand in your pocket. I want a picture for Lori and the weasel."

  Tammy narrowed her eyes. "Who's Lori?"

  "His old girlfriend. I want to show her what she gave up." He took a couple of shots. "Oh, and she's my sister."

  "No! Rog used to go with your sister?" Tammy looked appropriately scandalized.

  "They were engaged, and Lori broke it off."

  Rog looked at Nan and shook his head in bemusement. She smiled. Why any woman would let Rog get away was beyond her.

  Tammy matched Mooch's conspiratorial grin. "Then we've got to show her her beautiful replacement."

  In concert the two kids motioned Nan and Rog together.

  "Stand close," Tammy ordered.

  "Real close." Mooch smashed his hands together. "Put your hand on her waist, Rog."

  Tammy nodded. "Stand a little behind her. Angle a bit. That's right. Now smile."

  Cameras clicked and Nan smiled as she was told, but her attention was on the man beside her, his warm hand on her waist, his chest rising and falling against her back.

  "Okay, guys." She hoped no one noticed her breathless voice. "You've got to get back to work, and we need to go."

  Tammy and Mooch backed toward the propped-open shop door.

  "Have fun, kids," Mooch called. "Don't forget your curfew."

  "Yeah," Tammy agreed. "We wouldn't want to have to ground you for the next month."

  Rog put gentle pressure on Nan's lower back to direct her toward the stairs to the parking lot. He laughed. "I feel like I'm on my way to the prom."

  "It's their point of reference for fancy dress. Here, give me your a
rm. I have to walk on tiptoe so my heels don't catch between the boards."

  #

  "Table one?" Nan held out their place cards. "Surely not."

  "You said your aunt was part of the committee."

  "But I'm not. I can't sit there. We can't sit there."

  "I don't think we have a choice." Rog took her hand and led her into the dining room filled with linen-covered round tables with elaborate floral arrangements in the center of each. Men in tuxes or dark suits stood in contrast to the women in a rainbow of summer colors. Servers in black offered trays of hors d'oeuvres and beverages.

  Rog steered them toward the front of the room. As she went, Nan smiled at anyone who looked her way. People smiled politely back.

  "That's the mayor." Rog pointed out a handsome man with silver hair and a matching mustache. "He used to be the owner of a large auto dealership. He retired here and used that sales experience in local politics. Those two men with him are commissioners, as is the lady in the blue dress. The man in the uniform is my boss, Chief Gordon."

  At that moment Chief Gordon saw Rog and nodded. He raised his hand and gave a little flick of his fingers.

  "Is it good or bad he wants you?" Nan asked. "Should you be in uniform, too?"

  "I'm not here on business like he is."

  There was a flurry of names and handshakes as Rog introduced her to the chief and his companions.

  "I know what Officer Eastman does." Chief Gordon turned to her in the lull following the introductions. "What about you, Miss Patterson?"

  "I have a gift shop called Present Perfect located on the boardwalk."

  "Oh." The woman commissioner was suddenly interested. "Char Patterson's place. You know, Chief. Next to Excellent Ed's." She laughed. "That's what my husband and I call Ed's Eats."

  "Your aunt was a wonderful woman," Chief Gordon said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Patterson. I'll see you tomorrow, Eastman."

  With that gentle dismissal, Nan took Rog's arm, and they continued their search for their table. Nan noted the elegant printed program sitting on each pewter charger.

  Five people—an older couple, a middle-aged couple, and a young woman not too much younger than Nan—were already seated at the table, and Nan knew none of them. The older man with a Friar Tuck circle of white hair stood as did a sturdy redheaded woman in a deep blue gown that made her look classy in spite of her size.

  The man held out his hand. "Pete Sterling. And this is my wife, Blossom Buchanan Sterling."

  Blossom Buchanan Sterling grinned. "My given name's Patricia, but it's always been Blossom. I married Pete to get away from the Blossom Buchanan."

  "The only reason," Pete said amiably.

  "The only reason," Blossom agreed as she smiled at her husband. Pete kissed the top of her head.

  The other man at the table stood and extended his hand.

  "This is our nephew, Mike," Pete said, "and his wife Marge, and their daughter, the lovely Jodi."

  Jodi blushed. "Thanks, Uncle Pete."

  "Mike's a high school principal, Marge is a pharmacist, and Jodi is a graduate student working on her MBA." Pete looked at Mike and Marge. "Nan is Char's great-niece."

  "Oh, Char was such a wonderful lady," Marge said. "I'm so sorry for your loss, and we're glad to have you here as her representative. I'm sure it will mean a lot to—"

  A flurry of movement brought a woman in red rushing to the table. "Pete, Blossom, I can't find—"

  The woman stopped and took a step back as she stared at Nan. Nan stared back. Alana?

  "What are you doing here?" The hostility in Alana's voice was obvious, and Nan could hear the shocked intake of breath from both Blossom and Marge.

  "Hello, Alana." She forced herself to smile, even if it was more a baring of teeth than a gracious curving of the lips. "Nice to see you. You remember Rog Eastman, of course."

  Alana obviously didn't, but then she'd only seen him for a minute, and then he'd been in uniform.

  "Mrs. Mulrooney," Rog said pleasantly.

  Alana ignored him and turned to Pete and Blossom, "What's she doing here?"

  Before either of them could answer, a familiar voice said, "She's my guest. I invited her."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nan spun to see Aunt Bunny, only it was Aunt Bunny as she'd never seen her before. Her often flyaway red hair was carefully, beautifully styled, and her rag-tag clothes were replaced by a gorgeous white gown that shimmered when she moved. She wore diamonds in her ears and around her neck. She looked like a chic and wealthy woman instead of the poor old lady Nan knew and loved.

  Nan felt her mouth hanging open and snapped it shut. She blurted, "Aunt Bunny, you look so pretty!"

  "Surprising, isn't it?" Aunt Bunny smiled.

  Nan flushed. "I didn't mean—"

  "Sure you did. And you should. You're used to me in my summer-at-the-Buc persona."

  Blossom laughed. "She can't wait until she can go to the Buc and let her hair down. For as long as I can remember, even when we were kids, Bunny lived for summer."

  "And for being free!" Aunt Bunny spread her hands wide. "Joe and I were never happier than at the Buc."

  Alana sniffed, and Aunt Bunny patted her hand. "I know, dear. Such a trial for you."

  The man whose photograph Nan had seen in the real estate flyer joined the group and stood behind Alana.

  "Hello, Jason." Aunt Bunny smiled at him.

  He nodded to her. "Mother." The coolness in his tone made it clear he felt the same about Aunt Bunny as Alana did.

  Aunt Bunny sighed, then turned and smiled at Rog. "Good to see you, Rog."

  "Good to see you, Mrs. Truscott." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. Her face pinked with pleasure as she turned to Nan. "Remember what I said concerning you-know-who?" She tilted her head in Rog's direction.

  Now it was Nan's face flaming. She could feel the heat. "Aunt Bunny!"

  Aunt Bunny laughed. "I take it you've met my sister and her husband."

  Nan looked from Aunt Bunny to Blossom. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could see the resemblance. The facial structure with the high cheekbones and deep-set brown eyes. The sharp, all-seeing intelligence that radiated from both. Even the hair, probably helped by a salon given the women's ages, was a color that went with their skin and eyes. "We met them just now, but I didn't realize Blossom was your sister."

  Blossom Buchanan Sterling. Nan felt the world tilt. Bunny Buchanan Truscott?

  "Blossom and Bunny Buchanan." Aunt Bunny grinned. "It's a good thing our parents were great people, or those names would have been enough to cause a family rift. What was cute at three years old is a bit strange at seventy-five."

  "I thought..." The words died on Nan's lips. She didn't know what to say. She had felt sorry for Aunt Bunny, who lived in the tacky little apartment beside the noisy Buc. She had thought her aunt's best friend couldn't afford better. She had thought Aunt Char was wonderful to be close to someone with so little when she herself was comfortably set. In fact, Aunt Bunny had probably been slumming when she hung out with Aunt Char.

  Aunt Bunny had funded a hospital! Well, a hospital wing, but still. And probably Blossom and her husband had been in on it too.

  Nan glanced down at the program resting in front of her and read the words in raised gold lettering —Dedication of the Buchanan Children's Place. The Buchanan Children's Place.

  Of course it wasn't surprising that whoever owned the Buc was wealthy. It was a gold mine, crowded every night with thousands of people happily spending lots of money. That the Buchanans would fund a hospital wing was a fine thing, a reasonable thing, but that Aunt Bunny was a Buchanan! Another thing all together.

  Nan turned to Rog and realized he wasn't surprised. He'd known Aunt Bunny was a Buchanan. He had listened to her talking about poor Aunt Bunny and said nothing to correct her. Her world was seriously off-kilter, and he just smiled at her as if all was normal. Or was there concern lurking behind that smile? She frowne
d. "You knew." She indicated the room and the program with a wave of her hand.

  He nodded.

  "How long?"

  "From the night we had dinner at her place."

  She couldn't believe her ears. "And you didn't tell me?"

  "She promised me she would tell you."

  She stared at him, feeling betrayed. It was stupid to react so strongly—one part of her understood that. But he should have told her. Her chest felt tight, and she had to work to breathe. It was Tyler not telling her about Jennifer all over again.

  Rog reached for her hand. "It's okay."

  She stared at him a minute, clutching her hands tightly at her waist. No way was she holding his hand, all sweetheart-y and caring. He'd known and hadn't said a word.

  She thought of her father talking so familiarly with Aunt Bunny the other night. Dad knew who Bunny was. Of course he did. After all, Aunt Char was his aunt, and Aunt Bunny was Char's best friend.

  Nan was the only one in the dark, the only one not invited into the club. "Excuse me," she said to no one in particular. She did not wait for a response before she fled.

  She weaved among the tables, trying to be polite to the people standing in her way, until she finally made it out of the ballroom and into the corridor. She scanned the space, spied the sign for the restroom, and pushed her way inside. There were others in the ladies' room, but Nan knew none of them. She wanted to be alone, to process what she'd just learned. She waited her turn for a stall and sat, fully clothed, taking care her gown didn't touch the floor. She looked at the lovely sage fabric and thought of the money she'd spent. She thought of her excitement at spending the evening with Rog, so handsome in his tux. She thought of chic Aunt Bunny.

  She wanted to cry.

  Dear Lord, I feel so dumb. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I feel betrayed.

  Well, maybe betrayed was too strong. Betraying was what spies did, or unfaithful spouses, or larcenous business partners. Okay, not betrayed. But foolish, definitely. Hurt, oh yeah.

  Not that Aunt Bunny shouldn't be rich. It was a good thing that she could make decisions about retirement communities without worrying about whether she could afford one. But Nan had been deceived—that's what hurt so—deceived by everyone who mattered to her.