California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances

by Casey Dawes

  “While I don’t know much about Common Criteria, I do know how to manage a project,” she said to Jim. “And this one has disaster written all over it unless you’re willing to free up a little more time from the programmers and analysts.”

  “That’s impossible,” Jim said. “We have deadlines.”

  “Then the deadline for Common Criteria won’t be met.”

  “It has to be.”

  “Look,” she said. “I get that times are tight and everyone is working to full capacity. How about this? I’ll get all the information I can from existing documentation. That way I can keep team interruptions to a minimum. I’ll create an interview schedule of the people I need to talk to and clear it with the appropriate managers so everyone is aware of what’s required.”

  “That might work,” he said.

  They spent another half hour working out the details of her transfer. Jim reminded her that it was contingent on Conrad’s approval. As she left to catch her plane back to the West Coast, he handed her an orange book called the Trusted Computer System Evaluation Criteria for a little “light reading.”

  “We’re looking forward to getting started,” he said, pumping her hand vigorously. “I hope there won’t be any problems with this transfer.”

  She should have felt good that things were falling into place. Why didn’t she?

  Two hours later, Annie sank into her window seat, novel in hand. Everything had gone smoothly; even the airport security lines had been mercifully short.

  As the plane took off, she thought about what she’d learned from Carol Eos’s website the night before. She’d had been so impressed that she’d filled out the form to request an introductory session. Something needed to change. She couldn’t keep stabbing obnoxious men with stiletto heels or shoving them away when they went too far.

  Once they landed at San Francisco airport, she grabbed a cup of coffee at a kiosk, picked up her bag from baggage, and caught the shuttle to the long-term parking lot.

  Annie began to relax after she merged onto Route 280. The road was familiar and traffic minimal. Her mind drifted to the concert in the church basement. For the first time in years, she thought about the guitar sitting in her garage. It would need new strings at least, if it wasn’t beyond repair from the fluctuating temperatures. She’d picked up the second-hand instrument at a garage sale in Michigan, attracted by its mellow tones and polished wood.

  Maybe it was time to resurrect it.

  A blaring horn made her jump. She’d drifted too close to a merging black BMW as she passed the Route 92 interchange. After the close call in New Jersey, she’d better pay attention. She reached over to turn up a local rock station and began to sing along with Stevie Nicks.

  Annie was still singing when she pulled into Elizabeth’s driveway after eight. Her friend greeted her at the door with a big hug. “You look exhausted.”

  “Gee, thanks. Some friend. But you’re right. These quick trips across the continent wear me out … and all the stress of auditioning for a new job. All I want is my own bed.”

  “David’s finishing up homework. I’ve got a glass of wine for you while we wait.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Elizabeth went to the kitchen while Annie went down the hall to check in with her son. When she returned to the living room, she sank into the couch and picked up the thin crystal wine glass her friend had left on the gleaming end table. The first sip of chardonnay radiated through her body, dulling the effects of the mega-doses of coffee she’d drunk to stay awake on the drive home. California wine tastes best in California.

  Elizabeth came back into the room, cheese plate in hand. She positioned the dish on the redwood coffee table and sat at the other end of the couch.

  “Still planning on going?” There was a hopeful note to her voice. “Sounds like the job’s tough.”

  Annie looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye and slowly chewed the brie on crostini. She took a small sip of wine before answering. “I don’t think I told you about the concert I went to.”

  “We’re not going to talk about the job?”

  “No, we aren’t.”

  “You started to tell me about the concert, but we got distracted by the creep story.”

  “I knew there was something wrong with him, but I didn’t trust myself.”

  Annie felt Elizabeth’s eyes on her. From long experience, she knew her friend wanted to say something, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Go ahead,” she said. “Say what’s on your mind.”

  “I think that’s the problem, Annie. You don’t listen to your instincts. You’ve always let other people, usually men, talk you into doing things against your better judgment.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but it’s hard to sort out the right voices — there’s a chorus in my head! Mom’s voice is always telling me to ‘Go along to get along.’ Dad’s telling me the man is always right and it’s all playing over a tape loop of someone singing, ‘I am woman, hear me roar,’ in the background. It’s very confusing!” She looked at Elizabeth and they giggled. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

  “I think there’s hope yet. Annie, why don’t you sing anymore?”

  Annie shrugged. “I don’t have the time. It’s really too bad, because I think I was beginning to find my style. More people were coming to my coffeehouse gigs. I even had a concert lined up at Don Quixote’s in Felton. I never did it, though. Fred pitched a fit about the time I was spending on my music, not tending to David. He went on and on about how he had a job, too, and it wasn’t babysitting. Blah, blah, blah. I put the guitar in the garage.”

  “Maybe it’s time to dig it out.”

  “I’m thinking about it. Oh,” she said, taking Carol’s card from her purse and handing it to her friend. “You’ll be pleased. I met her on the plane and I made a phone appointment with her for tomorrow morning.”

  “Carol Eos, Coaching for Life,” Elizabeth read aloud. She looked up with a smile. “I’ve heard about life coaches. Good ones can really make a difference in your life. Sounds like a good idea.”

  Annie took the card back and finished the remaining swallow of wine. “I’d better be going. I can work from home tomorrow, thank goodness. Thanks for everything.” She gave her friend a big hug. “David,” she called down the hallway. “Time to go.”

  The ride home was easy. David was talkative and she didn’t bring up either the impending trial or move.

  The next morning she put David’s dirty laundry in the washer as soon as he left for school. The rush of water echoed in the hallway as she walked to her office. In spite of the fact that she was an official “short-timer,” Annie was still getting a few hundred e-mails a day, and plowing through them took time. Regardless of how the company treated her, she’d do her job to the best of her ability.

  With e-mail answered, laundry put away, and a pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove to make into quick meals for the following week, Annie was ready for Carol’s call.

  The phone rang promptly at ten.

  “Annie Gerhard?”

  “Yes”

  “Carol Eos. I’m glad you called. How was your flight back?”

  “The flight was okay. It’s my life that’s messed up. All I do is attract every loser around and this time I attacked two of them. One was a director. I think I screwed up my chance of going to New Jersey because I stabbed him with my stiletto heel. I don’t even know why I called you.” Whew! What possessed her to dump all of that in the first breath?

  “I see.” Carol said.

  “How do I make everyone around me leave me alone and let me do my job and raise my kid? Isn’t that enough?”

  “Yes, it’s certainly enough. The only problem is that the only person you can change is yourself.”

  “Why do I need to change? My ex is
an alcoholic, my son’s in trouble with the law, and my company is laying me off. My changing isn’t going to change those facts one bit!”

  “You’d be amazed. Tell me more about those ‘losers’ you attacked.”

  Annie told Carol about the dinners with Conrad and Mark. As she talked, she calmed down. It wasn’t Carol’s fault her life was a mess. Maybe she could have handled Conrad and Mark differently, too. “I feel a little ashamed about what I did. I guess I overreacted.”

  “Perhaps. But the fact that you reacted at all to bad situations means a lot. Were your parents alcoholics?”

  “My dad. He drank right up until the day he died.”

  “That would explain a lot. Many active alcoholics need to blame others, to keep the focus anywhere but on themselves. They change facts to suit the story they tell themselves. And they convince everyone around them that they’re the sane one. It’s tough on a kid, very confusing. Do you remember a time when you thought something was true and your dad told you it wasn’t?”

  Annie chuckled. “Lima beans. He was from the South and loved them. We had them every Sunday. Every Sunday I’d tell him I hated them and every Sunday he’d tell me he didn’t understand because I’d loved them the last week. Finally, I gave up and ate the damned things.”

  “Anything recent remind you of that?”

  “The tiramisu!”

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t want it, but my date ordered it anyway. I ate it simply to keep the peace.”

  “Given your history, it would be hard for you to do anything else. You don’t have good boundaries.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Most people, in the same situation, would have said, ‘no,’ even if it meant telling the waiter not to bring you tiramisu.”

  “But Mark would have gotten angry.”

  “That would have been his problem.”

  “He would have made it mine,” Annie said.

  There was a pause on the line. “Annie, did your father hit you?”

  She wasn’t ready to go there. “I can’t really remember.”

  There was another pause. “Okay. I’ll let that pass for now.”

  “So, if I’m such a doormat, how come I wouldn’t let him kiss me?” Annie asked.

  “Sounds like he crossed a line you simply couldn’t accept. You set a boundary that time.”

  “Not well.”

  “It wasn’t very elegant, but it worked.”

  “Yes, it did, didn’t it? But what I really called you for was to help me feel better about the move to New Jersey. Everyone’s pressuring me to stay. Shouldn’t I set my boundaries and do what I feel is right?”

  “Do you feel it’s right?”

  “Of course. It’s what I should do.”

  “‘Should’ is a very dangerous word. I’m not sure you really believe it is the right decision, deep down inside you.”

  “How will I know? When will I know? I have to decide by Monday.”

  “When you learn to trust yourself more, you’ll begin to make decisions that are best for you. Until then, we’ll work with what you have. Is there any way you can delay the decision? Have they told you that you must make it by Monday?”

  “Not really. I feel that they want me to make it soon. I probably have another two weeks.”

  “Then let’s use them.” Carol explained the process they’d follow and said she’d e-mail a coaching contract. Because time was of the essence, the women decided to have their next call on Monday.

  Annie spent the next few hours filling out expense reports for her trip and reading through the material that Jim had given her. Her mind kept drifting back to the conversation with Carol. Maybe she could change how her life had always been if she listened to her instincts more. To test the theory, she thought about John. Wasn’t there something about him that made her cautious?

  No.

  Drat.

  About four o’clock the phone rang again. Annie answered without thinking. “Annie Gerhard. How can I help you?”

  “Wow. That’s formal.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Sorry, it’s John. Is it okay to talk? I mean, are you working or in the middle of something?”

  “No, I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I wanted to find out how your trip was. Do you think you’ll be transferring?”

  Annie put a positive spin on the trip to New Jersey, leaving out her aggressive behavior. No need to scare the man off.

  “David’s trial is coming up, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Next week.”

  “You’ve had a tough week. How about I take you to dinner tonight? Give you a break?”

  “John, we’ve been through this before. I don’t think it’s wise.”

  “Annie, it’s only dinner. I’m not asking you to run away to Tahiti. You can even bring David.”

  “He’s eating at a friend’s house tonight. I was making a batch of spaghetti sauce to use for dinner and during the week. I’d invite you over, but the house is really a mess. I suppose I could freeze it. Do you really think … ”

  “Annie, I’m trying to make your life easier, not more difficult. You don’t need to invite me for dinner. I’d really like to see you, though. Let me treat you.”

  Annie thought back to her conversation with Carol that morning. What do I want? I haven’t the faintest idea. But all of a sudden a dinner with John sounded like a wonderful idea.

  “Okay. I’ll go.”

  “Really? What changed your mind? My charming conversational style?” Annie could hear the laughter in his voice.

  “I don’t think so,” Annie said with a smile on her face. “You’re good, but not that good. I realized you’re right. It’s been a tough week and next week doesn’t look any better. A dinner with a gentleman sounds great to me.”

  “Come by the bookstore at six. We can walk to dinner from there.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not going to tell you. Wear something nicely casual and you’ll be fine. It is Santa Cruz after all.”

  John was right. It was difficult to dress incorrectly in Santa Cruz, pretty much anything went. When they finished the conversation, she hung up the phone.

  What the hell had she done?

  Chapter 11

  John heard the clicking of heels on the wooden floor and he looked up from the information desk computer. Annie was walking toward him, her eyes on his and a flirtatious smile on her bright red lips. His date for the evening was dressed in green slacks and a light brown sweater that accentuated her curves.

  The clerk beside him coughed discreetly. John tore his eyes from Annie and remembered the customer in front of him. He looked back down at the computer screen.

  “Yes, we have a copy of Bird by Bird,” he said to the customer. “It’s in the reference section. I’ll show you where it is.”

  “That’s okay,” the customer said. She glanced over her shoulder. “It looks like you have other things on your mind.” She walked toward the back of the store with a chuckle.

  As soon as she left, he turned to the clerk beside him. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

  “Sure,” the clerk said waving a hand at Annie. “How about you?”

  “Me? I’m going to be just fine.”

  “Have a nice dinner,” the clerk said.

  “Uh, huh.” John walked to Annie, smelling a sweet whiff of Obsession as he drew closer. “Sorry to make you wait.”

  “Customers are important. There’s a lot to look at here.” She gestured toward the shelves of new releases.

  “Find anything?”

  “Not really. According to these books, the world is, if you don’t mind the cliché, ‘going to hell in a hand basket.’ Too depr
essing for me.”

  “You like happy endings,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “How do those romance writers get all those happy endings?”

  She was silent for a moment. “I think that the heroine figures out what she wants and goes after it. She doesn’t let anything stand in her way.”

  “What do you want, Annie?”

  She looked up at him, the expression in her eyes loosening the tightness in his jaw. He wanted to kiss her. Right then — in front of God and everyone.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Hard to go after something if you don’t know what it is.”

  “How about you? What do you want?”

  To kiss you. “A house of my own.” And you in it.

  “Along with the right woman and two-point-five kids,” Annie said, looking up at him from under her lashes.

  The heat in her voice dropped right through him, his jeans tightening with his rising desire. This had to stop. He could feel every eye in the store staring at them. “I put aside some books for you,” he said and turned toward the information desk. “Guaranteed happy endings.” He grinned back at her, breaking the tension between them.

  “Great customer service.”

  “We aim to please, ma’am.” He felt as if he was a schoolboy offering a hand-picked daisy to a girl he had a crush on. He handed her two volumes by Sheryl Woods.

  “Perfect!” she said, her eyes lighting up even further with happiness. “Can we put them aside and I’ll pick them up after dinner?”

  “Sure.” He scribbled her name on a slip of paper, rubber-banded it to the books, and put them back under the shelf.

  • • •

  Annie watched John bend over to slip the books behind the information desk, her hands itching to caress his hard back. Her mind had taken a leave of absence when he asked her what she wanted. At that moment, the only thing she’d wanted to do was kiss him.

  But then what? Would he be put off because she’d gone after what she wanted? Or would he immediately try to get her into bed with him?