by Donna Fasano
Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door jam. “I would like some female companionship, but only for dinner. I promise you.” He offered her a wry grin.
She nodded and then reached up to tap her chin. “Cathy and Brad are still on the outs. I could call her to see if she’s free for—”
“You, Heather.” He balanced his weight squarely on both his feet and leaned toward her. “I’m asking you to have dinner with me.”
“Oh.”
For half a second, he could see that the notion hadn’t entered her head.
Then she smiled. “Well, why didn’t you just say that from the beginning? You’ll start thinking I’m an idiot, and I’m not. I swear to you.”
“I take full responsibility for your confusion.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a writer. I use twenty-five words when five will suffice. So what do you say? Will you be my diversion for the evening?”
She beamed like a ray of warm, summer sunlight. “I’d love to.”
* * *
They enjoyed dinner at Fager’s Island. Heather ordered the pan seared Atlantic salmon, and the succulent fish arrived with fluffy mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli. Daniel devoured his Maryland style crab cake, served with rice pilaf and seasoned, roasted root veggies. They both enjoyed a local craft beer.
Heather had suggested Fager’s because she loved the jazz band that often entertained there. The sax player could tease out notes that made you break out in goose flesh. She knew the music, the delicious food, and the moonlight shining on the bay water that was black as squid ink would surely help Daniel forget whatever was troubling him, at least for a while. And that’s just what had happened.
Their dinner conversation remained casual, light. Inconsequential banter, really. She told him how, over the years, she’d seen businesses come and go along the boardwalk, that she felt grateful that people continued to return to her B&B, and how many of her visitors recommended her to their friends who were looking for a relaxing, laid-back vacation experience. He’d likened his own career to hers, at least in the repeat-customer area; he had people who bought and read each new publication, and many of them recommended his stories to other avid readers.
“Sometimes,” he’d said, “people don’t realize the power of word-of-mouth recommendations. You know… you tell two friends and they tell two friends…” He’d swiped his crisp, white napkin across his dusky lips. “It keeps people like you and me working and earning a living.”
Heather had nodded, holding his gaze intently. “That’s so true. It’s good when people talk. If they’re saying good things, that is.”
She’d felt a warm tendril of connection curl in her belly, but then he’d glanced over at the band, enjoying the music for several moments, and Heather concluded that the warmth she’d felt must be the result of the alcohol in the glass of wine she’d consumed.
They’d left the restaurant in mid-town and had driven home, but rather than calling it a night, Daniel had asked her to walk with him.
Although the temperature was edged with the chill of January, the air was utterly still. Heather had turned up the collar of her coat, and the soft scarf tucked securely around her neck kept her plenty warm. Sparse grains of sand grated between the soles of their shoes and the wood planks as they strolled south on the boardwalk.
“So,” he said, “there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you.”
He spoke softly, and Heather tilted her head toward him.
“What kind of crazy requests have you gotten from your guests,” he asked, “that would have you concluding that I was looking for a prostitute?”
A humorous lilt lightened his tone, and Heather hoped her chuckle covered the flush of embarrassment that rushed to her face.
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I once arranged for a male stripper to come for a bachelorette party. That was a wild evening, I don’t mind saying.” She stuffed her fists deeper into the pockets of her coat. “I had a guest who wanted a milk bath once.”
He stopped walking and turned to face her. “You mean, like Cleopatra?”
“Exactly.”
“Did you do it?”
“I did. And she paid a hefty price for the luxury, too. I bought the fifty-two gallons of milk, but I hired someone to heat it and carry it upstairs. That was the most expensive and luxurious soak she ever took, I’m sure.”
He thought for a moment and then murmured, “Wow.”
She laughed. “That’s what I said… all day long.”
They continued their walk toward the inlet.
“I’ve chartered a boat for a couple who wanted to scatter their dog’s ashes at sea. I went out and bought seventeen feather pillows for a guest who had a bad back.” She pursed her lips a moment while she thought. “One man pulled a prank on his wife that included filling their room with two hundred and seven plastic flamingos. Thank goodness, he bought the birds weeks ahead of time and had them shipped to The Loon. I stored them until the couple arrived, and I decorated their room while they were out to lunch one day. I had to ask Sara and Cathy to help me in order to finish up in the hour and a half he gave me.”
Again, Daniel stopped and looked at her. This time, his head tilted and his gaze narrowed.
“Don’t ask me what was so special about the number two hundred and seven. Or what the flamingos were all about, either.” She lifted her hands and offered a grin. “I never did find out, so I have no idea. All I do know is that the woman was absolutely delighted. After she found the flamingos, they acted like a couple of lovesick teenagers.”
He chuckled.
“Then there was the Mariachi band,” she told him. “A guest wanted to propose to his girlfriend accompanied by authentic Mexican music.” One corner of her mouth curled upward. “Not knowing any Mariachi musicians, I called the Chamber of Commerce for some ideas. They put me in touch with a local Mexican restaurant that featured a weekly Mariachi night.”
Her smile widened as she remembered the band members’ colorful costumes, wide-brimmed sombreros, and lively music.
“That girl squealed like a kid, and then she cried.” Heather shook her head slowly, her voice going soft, as she continued, “Just imagine, you’re lying out on the beach in your bikini, and suddenly you’re surrounded by a loud, flamboyant, singing trio. It’s enough to bring anyone to tears.”
The thought had her chuckling, but her humor waned when she watched Daniel’s mouth go flat.
“Not something I can imagine,” he said, his tone deadpan. “Me… in a bikini.”
They both laughed then.
She gave his shoulder a nudge with hers. “You know what I meant.”
He nodded. “I did. But I couldn’t resist teasing you. I love how your cheeks turn rosy.”
They came to the end of the boardwalk and Daniel reached out to rest his palms on the white picket fencing. Heather took in the scene before her and felt her shoulder muscles relax. Thin wispy clouds partially covered the half moon that hung over the water like a thirsty flower. There was just enough silvery light to make out the dunes of Assateague Island across the inlet. Black as sable, the sea churned and rushed inland through the narrow channel on its way to high tide.
“Speaking of Mexico…”
She smiled when his voice broke the silence; she really liked the deep sound of it.
“…I proposed to my wife in Cancún.”
Her eyebrows arched before she could wrangle the reaction under control. Then immediately, her face contorted into a slight moue as she looked up at him.
He smiled softly. “You’re thinking about our New Year’s Eve kiss aren’t you?”
“I was, actually.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t erase the frown that knitted her brow together.
He’d been so sweet to her that night, kissing her after she’d complained of being a fifth wheel and whined about being the only one who’d missed out on the cherished midnight tradition. Of course, it had been just a kiss. A cha
rming act meant to lift her spirits. And it had done just that.
But if he was a married man… Well, that would change everything. That would make her terribly uncomfortable. It would demonstrate something unsavory about his character, wouldn’t it?
“No need to worry,” he promised her, shaking his head for emphasis. “Honestly.”
His claim was genuine and straightforward, and it put her at ease.
During her years of running her business, she’d learned there were all types of people. Some liked to tell every little detail about their lives during their short stay. On the other end of the spectrum were those who coveted their privacy as though it were sacred. Heather always went with the flow. If her guests wanted to rage about their bosses or wax poetic about their genius grandchildren, she would listen and reply with the appropriate interjections. And if, on the other hand, people wanted to keep to themselves and avoid interaction, she was astute enough to realize their wishes and respect them.
Until this evening, she had definitely pegged Daniel as being part of the latter group. Yes, he’d mentioned the trouble he was experiencing with his little girl, but only briefly and in the vaguest sense. Heather was sure he’d done so only because he’d felt the need to defend himself against her and Sara and Cathy’s gossiping in the alley. He hadn’t spoken of it again.
Because she was uncertain as to why he’d suddenly start revealing facts about himself and equally as uncertain about how she should respond or even if he might want her to, she simply kept quiet and waited.
“Cila and I had been dating a few years,” he said. “I… I’m ashamed to admit that I put off asking her to marry me for months because several of my friends suggested she was only after a green card.”
From the expectation she read in his gaze, Heather could tell he was waiting for her to reply. Finally, she said, “We put a lot of stock in the opinions of our friends.”
His mouth twisted wryly and he nodded in agreement.
Daniel looked out over the swiftly flowing water. “Cila was from Burgovnia.”
His use of the word ‘was’ woke her up like a quick smack on the cheek.
“I knew she couldn’t have been after my money,” he said, a small smile massaging his tone. “I didn’t have any back then. I’d only published one novel and a handful of magazine articles. I hadn’t won any literary prizes yet or wowed many publishers. The fancy awards, cushy advances, the movie deals, those would come later. Much later.”
The moonlight highlighted the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones with a lustrous glow. His memories made his eyes crinkle with humor one moment and his jaw muscles coil with tension the next.
“She passed away two years ago.” He made the statement matter-of-factly. “She’d flown over to visit her family. I stayed here to write.” He added a gruff, “Damned deadlines.” Then he huffed out a sigh. “It was a simple cut that killed her. She’d fallen. Cut her arm and needed stitches. She contracted some sort of infection that got into her blood.”
His throat convulsed with a swallow. “She had a raging fever that couldn’t be stopped. The antibiotics seemed useless. She was gone before I could get to her. It was a very dark time in my life.”
He swiveled his head, and suddenly his black-as-night eyes were boring into hers. Heather’s heart ached for him, for his loss, his grief. It was carved in the lines around his mouth.
“I’m sorry.” The whispered words seemed somehow insubstantial, not nearly hefty enough to convey her feelings.
Daniel continued to study her face. Finally, he said, “You’re wondering why I’m pouring my heart out here.”
She shook her head hard enough for her bangs to fall into her eyes. She reached up and brushed them aside. “No. I’m not.”
A small smile spread across his lips. “Don’t ever try to keep secrets, Heather. You’re not very good at it.”
Defensiveness straightened her spine, but only for a split second. Who was she kidding? She might as well be honest. The man was right. She was wondering. And furtiveness wasn’t her strongest trait. She grinned and cocked her head a fraction.
“You got me,” she admitted. “On both counts.”
He smiled and their gazes held for a long moment… longer than what seemed appropriate. With any other man, she was certain she would have quickly become uncomfortable. But for some reason, she didn’t feel that way with Daniel.
“We should probably head back, don’t you think?”
She nodded in answer to his question, and they skirted around the rows of benches and started back north.
“I’ll grant you this much,” he said. “I don’t talk about Cila very often—all of that is still pretty raw. Even after all this time. But I do have an ulterior motive.”
The admission had her eyes widening. “Yes? Go on.”
He was a handsome man; even more so when he smiled.
“Something’s been bothering me all evening,” he told her. “I want to ask you about it. But… it’s going to sound very… It is very personal.”
Her brows lifted. “O-kaaaay.” Sudden suspicion stretched out the word like warm, sticky salt water taffy.
They walked a dozen yards or so in silence, and then he asked, “Are you warm enough? Would you like my coat? My gloves?”
“I’m fine, Daniel. What is it you want to know?”
He pressed his palms together and tapped both index fingers lightly against his chin. Heather could tell he was doing some deep contemplating. Finally, he exhaled forcefully.
“There’s really no easy way to ask this.”
She fretted, wondering just how personal this question was going to get.
“When I told you I wanted some company this evening,” he began, “why did you automatically exclude yourself from the equation?”
“I excluded myself?”
“That’s exactly what you did. Maybe it wasn’t purposeful,” he rushed to add. “But after we sorted out the initial… um, misunderstanding, and you figured out I was looking for a dinner date, you completely bypassed yourself and suggested calling Cathy.”
The air temperature might have called for down coats and fleece-lined gloves, woolen hats and scarves, but in that instant, Heather could have been in a hot, tropical climate. Her whole body broke out in anxious perspiration.
She hadn’t realized what she’d done until just this moment when he’d pointed it out. Her behavior had been completely extemporaneous. He was right. During their conversation when he’d requested a date, she really had circumvented herself, and she’d done it so effortlessly, so unwittingly, it was clearly habit for her. Utterly customary behavior.
When had she become so self-oblivious?
Her heart began to pound behind her ribs and she felt a little short of breath. She unzipped her jacket a few inches and loosened her scarf, thankful when the frigid air struck her neck and chest.
“Here, let’s sit down for a minute.” Daniel grasped her upper arm and steered her toward a nearby bench.
Once she was seated, he settled himself beside her, twisting his body so that they were face to face, and he took one of her hands in his.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
His words were sincere, his gaze intense, but Heather brought her free hand to her face and pressed the pads of her fingers to her forehead, unable to look him in the eyes.
“You see, in my line of work,” he continued, “I’m absolutely obsessed with the whys behind what people do. Why would someone go down into a basement, alone, in the dark? Why would someone quit a perfectly good job when doing so would mean being evicted and becoming homeless?”
His next question was asked so softly, the words were barely a whisper.
“Why, when a man shows interest in a woman, would she automatically offer up her friend?”
Why, indeed? The tiny question reverberated in her mind. She pressed her lips together in a thin line, knowing she couldn’t avoid looking at him much longer.
When
she didn’t immediately respond, he said, “My gut is telling me you’ve shut yourself off. You’ve done it so thoroughly and completely that you’re not even aware of what you’re doing. And I’m dying to know why you’d do such a thing. What’s the reason?” He lifted his hand, palm up. “For example, maybe your father abandoned your family, leaving you with self-esteem issues. Or maybe your mother is struggling with aging, and jealous of your youth, she’s given you some sort of complex. Or at sometime in your past, a man has broken your heart and crushed your spirit.”
She sat listening to him offer up the possibilities as though he were lobbing little balloons filled with paint meant to go splat when he hit his mark. Well, his last guess struck too close. Heather straightened up and looked at him.
“Daniel, I am not a character in one of your books.”
The reply came out sounding as if it had been snipped by a sharp pair of scissors, and she wasn’t surprised to see him wince.
He pulled away from her several inches. “I-I didn’t,” he stammered. “I mean, I wasn’t…”
He paused long enough to lick his lips, and there was something about the set of his jaw that told her he’d decided against backing down.
After a slow inhalation, he said, “Real or fictionalized, Heather, it makes no difference, really. People do what they do for a reason.”
Oh, she had plenty of reasons. She simply wanted to avoid discussing them with Daniel.
“Wait,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Back up a minute. What was that crazy implication you just made? ‘When a man shows interest in a woman.’ What kind of fiction are you whipping up with that? I thought tonight was about you needing a diversion. That’s what you said, remember.”
“Well—” His mouth spread into a slow, sexy grin. “Having a diversion was my initial excuse for asking you out.” Then he sobered. “But what’s so crazy about me being interested in you?”
She arched a brow at him. “I think there are way too many questions being fired off around here. From both of us.”
He chuckled, and the rich sound of it sent shivers coursing across her skin. Underneath her scarf, she was sure the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end.
