by Kay Correll
“You remember the movie. We went to see it together in Charleston at The Movie Mecca. It was that romance about a rich guy and the poor girl set at a castle that was made into a B&B.”
“I kind of remember that.” She did. Sort of. She was pretty sure that was the last movie she’d gone to see, and it had been a couple of years ago.
“Seriously, what am I going to do with you?” Merry set her bag on a display and pulled out her phone. She tapped on the screen for a moment, then flashed the phone at Whitney. “See, this movie. Remember?”
She squinted at the picture. “Now I remember it. Romantic comedy set at that gorgeous castle.”
“Well, I’m positive that guy was Rick Nichols.”
“Richard Nicholson. Rick Nichols.” She pursed her lips. “Too much of a coincidence, right?”
“Rick Nichols must be a stage name.” Merry snatched back her phone and searched again. “Yep, it says here on the actor database that his real name is Richard Nicholson.”
“Hm, well, I didn’t recognize him.” Well, that explained his captivating smile. They probably taught that in acting school. Did all actors go to acting school? She had no clue.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I try so hard to keep you current.” Merry laughed. “You live in your own little world.”
“Hey, I like my own little world.” Whitney grinned and took a sip of her coffee. Her quiet, simple little world. She loved her life in Indigo Bay. Though she wouldn’t mind letting him brighten her world for a few weeks with that smile of his. She had to admit he was rather easy to look at.
What was she thinking? She’d maybe see him one more time when he came to pick up the gift. This wasn’t a movie and she wasn’t some actress playing a part.
She shook her head. Anyway, she didn’t need any more unwanted attention, she’d seen what chaos like that brought to her shop.
Rick stood in front of the desk at city hall, his feet firmly planted until he got a better answer, the answer he wanted to hear. “What do you mean I don’t have the pavilion reserved for the weekend after next? I specifically reserved it online. I did it months ago. I have a confirmation number. The email I received said all I need to do was to come by city hall and pick up the permit. I’ve hired a band. Everything is all set.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t see you listed. It’s already taken by the Ashland Belle Society.”
Rick tapped on his phone and pulled up his confirmation email. “Here, my confirmation number is three-four-eight-a-c.”
The lady typed his confirmation number into her computer. “Oh, I see the problem.”
“There is no problem. I reserved the pavilion.” He glared at her.
“Yes, you did. But it appears you reserved it for next year.”
“What?” He looked at the confirmation email on his phone. She was right. He’d messed up and reserved next year, not this year. How could he have made such a ridiculous mistake? Christina was going to kill him… His sister would not have a sense of humor about the mess-up.
“I don’t suppose there’s another place in town like that pavilion that I could rent out?”
“There are a few places around town, but they would all be rented at this late date.” The lady’s face held a look of triumph for being right.
When he was so very wrong. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t mess this up.
Now what was he going to do? He had a ton of family coming to town and friends of his grandmother invited to the party… and no place to have the darn thing. He shoved his phone back in his pocket.
He knew the look he’d see on his parents’ faces when they heard the news of how he’d screwed this up. Just one more thing in a long list of ways he’d disappointed them. Like becoming an actor instead of a lawyer like his brother or a surgeon like his sister.
He ran his fingers through his hair. The hair that still wasn’t covered with a ball cap, and he was pretty sure the woman he’d run into in front of Whitney’s shop had figured out who he was.
Nothing was going according to plan.
Chapter 3
Whitney closed the door to her shop and locked it behind her. She could almost hear her brother’s voice in her head warning her to lock the door every single time she left. He didn’t want any repeats of the break-in from last summer. She smiled to her herself. Will was way too overly protective anyway, but she’d almost gotten used to it. Almost.
She looked at her watch, trying to decide what to do for dinner. Choices. She could go home to eat, but she’d have to stop and pick up groceries if she did that. She was forever letting her food pantry go bare in the busy summer season when she worked long hours at the shop. There wasn’t enough energy left in her body after the long day to both grocery shop and cook.
Sweet Caroline’s sounded like a much better choice. She headed down the street to the restaurant.
“Hi, Whitney.” Caroline greeted her with a warm smile as she entered the cafe.
“Hi. Just came in for a quick bite. You know, like I already have twice this week. I really am going to make grocery shopping a priority. Soon.” She smiled at the owner.
“Well, you’re welcome here anytime.” Caroline led her to a table by the window. “I’ll send the waitress over for your order.”
She sank into the chair, grateful to be off her feet. It had been a busy day at the shop, and she hadn’t had much time to sit down and work on the jewelry piece she was designing for that Richard-Rick guy.
As if conjured up from her thoughts, the door to the restaurant opened and Rick came through the doorway, a ball cap on his head and unneeded sunglasses resting on his face. She watched while he took off the glasses and looked around the cafe. He spied her, and she lifted a hand in a wave.
He crossed over to her table. “Hi, there. Looks like we keep running into each other today.” He sent her that lethal weapon smile. The one that made her mind go blank.
“Uh, it does.” Whitney looked up at him, searching for words. “Um… are you meeting someone here, or would you like to join me? I just sat down and haven’t ordered yet.” She was just being friendly, it wasn’t that smile of his. Of course, now that she knew he was a movie star, she figured that smile was just part of his act. But what was she thinking, asking a movie star to join her?
“Not meeting anyone and I’d like to join you.” He slipped into the chair across from her.
The waitress came, they both ordered, then silence hung over the table. Rick shifted in his seat. She fiddled with her napkin. She couldn’t get past the fact she was sitting here at Sweet Caroline’s with an actor—and a famous actor according to Merry.
“Did you get started on the jewelry piece?” He finally broke the silence.
“Barely. It was a busy day at the shop. But don’t worry, I’ll have it in time for the party.”
He scowled. “If we even have a party.”
“What do you mean?”
“I screwed up. I rented that big pavilion at your city park for the party… but I messed up and put in the wrong year when I reserved it. Who does that? Some Belle Society has it rented. Where am I ever going to find a big enough place to have the party at this late date?”
She frowned. “That’s a pretty big mess-up.”
“Yes, thank you, I know.” He let out a long breath of air.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” She quickly apologized. “We can fix it though, I bet.”
“We?”
“I mean, we could come up with a solution.”
A hopeful expression settled on Rick’s face. “Like what?”
“How about if you rented a tent for the party? There’s that large flat area between the two Pink Ladies. You could just adapt things a bit. String lights on the tent. It could look kind of magical.”
“I’ve already hired a band.”
“You can get those dance floors that they put down. Part of the tent could have room for the band and the dance floor. Tables around the
edge.”
His eyes brightened. “That might work.”
She loved how he perked up as she helped him solve his dilemma. Maybe he’d flash one of those smiles of his…
“You could possibly put the food and bar up on one of the decks. That would leave more room under the tent.”
“I think this might work. All day I’ve been beating myself up, thinking we’d have to cancel the party, or at least downsize it to just our family and have it in one of the houses. But this sounds like the perfect solution.”
“I know of a place in Charleston where you can rent all that. The tent, tables, and chairs. They might even have the dance floor.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts. She paused, knowing he’d shied away from giving her his phone number before. “I can write the information down.”
“Ah, no. Just text it to me.” He gave her his number.
Should she put it in her phone as Richard Nicholson or Rick Nichols? She rolled her eyes at her indecision. Like it mattered. She typed in Richard Nicholson—she’d go along with his charade—and sent him the information.
The waitress brought their meals, and they settled into a comfortable conversation about the town.
“Have you ever been here before?” Whitney took a sip of her drink.
“No. Always meant to since my grandmother speaks so highly of it. She comes here fairly regularly now that she’s retired. She’s asked me to come with her a few times, but I’ve always been too busy.”
“That’s nice she likes to visit often. We do like our regulars.” She wondered if she knew his grandmother. She did get to know some of the long-time regular visitors to the town. “What’s her name? I may know her.”
Rick sat with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. “Um…”
Rick paused, not sure he wanted to answer Whitney’s question, but how could he not? He drew in a long breath. “My grandmother is Viola Lemmons.”
He watched while the inevitable recognition spread across her face.
“The actress?”
“The very same one.”
“Wow.” She sat with a surprised look on her face. Then she frowned. “So, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Well, you’re Rick Nichols, aren’t you? Merry said you were. Richard Nicholson. Rick Nichols. It doesn’t take much of a stretch…”
He had to admit, it stung a little that it took her friend to explain who he was. Whitney hadn’t even recognized him. Which was what he wanted, right? A few days where no one knew his name. Only… if he could get a few more good roles, maybe he would be more recognized, more famous. Then maybe everyone would think he’d made a success of his life. Maybe.
Which, once again, was what he also wanted, right?
He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “So you know who I am. I was hoping to keep my identity a secret for a while longer. Hoping for some, I don’t know, normal days? Days where no one knows who I am.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.” She looked indignant.
But somehow it always came out who he was. Cameras would flash. Tabloids would write stories, true or not.
“So, you’re following in your grandmother’s footsteps?”
“Sort of. Though she has big footsteps to follow. She’s very well-known. A talented actress, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my grandmother.” He was very proud of her. She’d not only hit it big when she was younger, she’d continued to do many big roles as she’d aged. Everyone recognized her name. She was famous. Unlike him. He was more… well-known, or even maybe it was just known. Kind of.
Whitney hadn’t recognized him.
So there he was, back at it again. What was it he really wanted?
They walked out of Sweet Caroline’s and into the warm night. The lights along Main Street illuminated the sidewalks. A couple walked by eating ice cream cones. Rick was suddenly, desperately craving a butter pecan ice cream cone.
“Well, thanks for joining me for dinner.” Whitney turned to him.
“So, where do you think that couple got their ice cream?” He watched, longingly, as they walked away.
“At the ice cream shop right down the street, The Trixie Cone.”
“I think I’m going to pop in there and get a cone for my walk home.”
Whitney’s eyes lit up. “Really? Ice cream sounds good to me, too.”
“Well, lead the way.”
They entered the shop. Red cafe tables were scattered around the room, and a large chalkboard behind the counter listed their multitude of flavors.
Whitney walked up to the counter and greeted the woman working there. “Hey, Trixie. How’s it going?”
He watched while Trixie stared at him for a moment, then ducked her head.
She’d recognized him. Probably.
Maybe.
Or not.
He was beginning to doubt anyone even knew who he was. Maybe he was just a legend in his own mind. He put his attention back on the chalkboard of flavors, though he knew he’d end up with butter pecan.
He ordered his ice cream and Whitney ordered chocolate fudge. They wandered outside and down the street, eating their desserts.
“So, I guess you know everyone in town?” He took a lick of the delicious dessert before it dripped all over him.
Whitney grinned at him. “Almost everyone.”
“That must be so… strange?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Don’t they always know your business and what you’re doing?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “But I like knowing most of the people I see here. At least the townspeople. Even some of the repeat tourists. Lots of people come back here year after year.”
A drip of ice cream ran down his chin, and he swiped at his mouth. “This is really good. I mean, really, really good.”
“Best ice cream in Indigo Bay.” Whitney stopped. “This is where I head this way, and you head that way back to The Pink Ladies.”
“I… could walk you home. I mean, if that’s okay with you.” He was always asking to join her, wasn’t he?
“You sure? You’ll have to double back afterward to get to the bay side of town. I live on the ocean side.”
“Yep, I’m sure.”
They fell into step, walking and finishing up their ice cream. They ambled down Seaside Boulevard, and she led him up to the door of a cute, little, mint-green cottage.
“This is me.”
He wondered if she was going to invite him in, but she climbed the steps to the porch without asking him.
“Well, thanks for walking me home.”
“You bet. It’s a nice night out.”
“You know how to get back to The Pink Ladies?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I’ll see you.” Whitney turned, unlocked the door, and slipped inside with a slight wave of her hand.
He slowly turned around, his footsteps crunching on the crushed shell drive. He turned back once and saw the inside of the cottage illuminated with light, like a cheerful, welcoming home. A big contrast to his modern, interior-designer-decorated apartment in L.A. Cheerful or welcoming were about the least likely words anyone would use to describe it. Not that he was there very much. He was often off on location, or if he worked in town, the hours were long and grueling. When he was in between jobs, he often left the city.
He scowled. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but his apartment in Los Angeles really held no appeal to him at all. He realized he didn’t ever think of it as home.
He turned away again and slowly strolled through the streets of Indigo Bay, across the town to the bay side. He walked up the stairs to Pink Lady One where he was staying. No lights welcomed him here, either. He unlocked the door and walked into the dark, silent house.
Chapter 4
Finally, something was working out for the birthday gala for his grandmother. Whitney’s connection in Charleston set him up with everythin
g he needed. The tent, chairs, tables, and even the dance floor. Whitney had saved him from the wrath of his sister and the disappointed looks from his parents. He just needed to convince Christina that this change was on purpose and a better option for the party. No need for her to find out he’d booked the pavilion for the wrong year. No need at all…
He sat at a table at Pink Lady One with a pad of paper in front of him, crossing things off his list. He looked out at the bay while a large cruiser slid across the water and into the nearby marina. He’d gone on a long weekend cruise on a huge yacht after his last movie had wrapped up. It hadn’t turned out exactly as the relaxing trip he’d planned. Shawna Jacobson had been on the cruise and someone had grabbed photos of them together and blasted them all over social media. His agent ran with it and did his best to promote them as a couple.
Which they weren’t.
At times he thought Shawna might wish they were a couple, but he knew her well. She’d drop him in a heartbeat if a more famous actor came along.
He stood and wandered over to the window, watching a lone blue heron walk along the waterfront in awkward strides. He glanced at his phone to check the time.
Seemed like as good a time as any to take a break from his to-do list. Maybe he’d head over to Coastal Creations and see how Whitney was doing on the necklace. Yes, that was the reason he wanted to go see her. Just to check on the necklace.
And maybe, while he was there, he’d ask her out to dinner. Not as a date, really. But as a thank you for helping him and giving him a solution to his Pavilion Problem as he’d begun to think of it. He grabbed his hat and sunglasses from the table.
He went outside and climbed down the stairs of the long front porch. He glanced over at the red sports car but decided to walk instead. It wasn’t far to Whitney’s shop, and the day sprinkled warm sunshine all over the town.
