by R. E. Laurel
He released his grip, stepping back as she slowly sat up, brushing her hair from her face. “You took me totally by surprise with this check. Geez, Stan. It’s going to take a few minutes to calm down and besides, I am not having an asthma attack either.”
“How am I supposed to know what you’re doing. I thought not breathing.” He returned to his seat as she once again studied the check.
“I don’t believe this. But twenty thousand dollars?”
“He didn’t want to see you leave. He argued and let’s say the order came from the higher in command,” he lamely explained.
“Who is Victor Neal the Sixth?”
“He is the Sixth Victor Neal in the descendants of ownership of Neal’s Emporium.”
Maren gave him a look of what she hoped was contempt. “You repeated what I asked but backward.”
“He just freshly acquired this store along with others. I’m going to let it go at that,” he ended knowing Victor the Sixth has a slight interest in Maren. He should be the one to explain anything else.
Maren stuck her arm out to hand the check back to Stan. “I cannot accept this.”
“It’s your severance pay. You have to accept it.” Stan argued to the pale, shaken lady who has become his friend over the last few years.
“Tell him to thank you very much then for me,” she replied, placing it back into the envelope.
Stan nodded as she slowly stood. He noticed her steps a bit on the unsteady side as she left his office. He only shook his head wondering what Vic had in his plans for Maren. He knew he was interested but just how long would that interest last. He was known as the cold uncaring guy in their group, the love them and leave them kind.
***
Still numb from what had just transpired in Stan’s office, Maren entered her office, seven doors down to get her personal effects packed. After tucking the envelope into her purse, she removed a few printer paper boxes from the closet, dropping two on the floor and placed the third on top of her desk. Slowly she walked around her office taking the few photos of her parents and brother, his wife and their child from the wall to place into the box. Her chest rose and fell as she inhaled a long calming breath.
Dazed, she plopped onto her chair as the tears formed to slide down her cheeks. Bracing her elbows on top of the desk, she hid her face in her hands letting them fall. Maren didn’t bother to hide her sobs as she let the sadness surface and escape in the form of tears, a lot of tears.
Victor was still in the lounge area when he thought he heard the door of her office open. Peering around the door of the lounge, he watched as her door slowly shut to remain open a crack as it failed to latch. Deciding he needed to talk with her he set his cup on the roundtable and proceeded towards the door. His arm reached out, his hand pressed on the coldness and he stopped.
“What the?” Turning his head, he leaned against the crack. He thought he heard the distinct sound of her crying. Listening, he heard her again, this time shuddering gasps as she tried to stop them. He knew she would be upset but not to the extreme point of crying! “Damn,” he muttered when the sounds of her deep wretched sobs met his ears. With determination, he eased the door open to look in at her. She sat behind her desk, her face hidden in her hands, failing to know he was there. He went to her as another onslaught of those damn tears began.
Maren was so distraught that she jumped when she felt the gentle touch of a hand on her upper arm. Looking up, she found Victor standing next to her. The pressure of his hand on her arm eased her to stand. Not wanting him to see her like this, she hid her face behind her hands but her crying persisted. She felt the comfort of his arms wrap around her shoulders, easing her against his chest. Her arms were pinned between them with her face still hidden in her hands.
“Hush cutie,” he crooned against the top of her head. “Things will work out for you. I have a gut feeling that they will.”
Maren felt began to calm down with the soft whispers in her ear and gentle sway from his body, like comforting a crying child. She slid her hands from her face and somehow managed to look upwards to find him looking at her. It was a strange look like she often read about in those romance novels. A look of being distracted from whatever thoughts he was having, and his lips were still inches from hers. Inhaling, she caught the masculine scent of his cologne.
She must be mistaken. Believing her vision played tricks on her or just blurred from crying as to the reason he appeared to look at her in that way. She pressed her lips together, trying to still their quivering but more tears threatened to fall.
“I hate seeing you cry,” he whispered.
She felt the largeness of his hand gently cup the side of her face. Then the unexpected happened as she watched him dip his head down and then felt his lips on hers in a heated, tender kiss. With mouths closed his lips lingered on hers, tasting the salt from her tears as he continued to kiss her. Easing away they gazed long into each other’s eyes.
She is very naïve about what happens between a man and a woman but not inexperienced to not know when a strange new emotion flows over her. Others she had gone out with kissed her, but it felt like she was kissing a rotten cantaloupe. No emotion, no feeling, nothing. Just a presence of mush.
“Wow. That, that was rather enjoyable,” Maren whispered, managing to smile through her tears, his gaze capturing hers.
“I have to agree with you about that.” He grinned, not missing a certain strange feeling creeping into him of caring for someone else’s feelings besides only himself. He knew it was temporary. Yes, it would soon disappear, but he remained silent, holding her and the memory of the delicate touch of her lips on his. Yes, it was only temporary, he reminded himself. Stepping away, he kept his arms around her. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. It’s just the shock of everything right now. I hate this.” She faltered, realizing he refused to release her.
“It can’t be easy for anyone.”
“Especially around the holidays but I guess I should look at the bright side of it all. I’m not going to be here on Black Friday,” she wryly laughed, stepping from the embrace he still held her in.
With reluctance, Victor released her feeling the oddest sensation of the emptiness of his arms. What the hell is going on? This wasn’t the norm for him. But he felt the loss when she stepped away. He remained silent as he noticed she tucked her hair behind her ears then turned away to sit down, stand back up, sit down and then look long at him. Lord how he wanted to taste her lips again. Just looking at their mauve coloring set his blood to boil.
Giving his head a brief shake, he asked, “So are we still on for tonight?” He added the most charming grin he had to offer.
Maren managed a smile, as tiny as it was, she smiled.
“I was just given the most horrendous news someone could be told, and you want to know if I’m still interested in going out with you tonight?”
“Well yes, I am.”
She shot him a look of pure disbelief.
“As I think of it, I suppose that was selfish of me. But, would you?” He added, pushing on as much of his charm as he could. Normally that would be all he needed to do and the lady in question always answered with a quick yes. At her refusal to say yes or no, he pressed on. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress up,” he quickly added. Just as fast, he spun on his heels to hopefully avoid any more conversation.
CHAPTER 6
Maren touched her lips where moments before his pressed against hers. Despite feeling like crap, she couldn’t help but grin as she watched him hurry away. Her chest rose and fell with the long sigh as she wearily plopped onto her office chair. With a forlorn look, her smile changed to sadness as she glanced around her spacious office. It was so difficult to imagine that she wouldn’t ever be returning here to work. She loved the job and the people. The sound of the door opening caused her heart to skip a beat, wondering if Victor were returning for another kiss.
“Well?” Belinda asked her as she slowly enter
ed.
“Oh, it’s you. I’m done.” Maren shrugged, opening a drawer to remove nail polish, lipstick, and other toiletries to place into the waiting box.
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes. After the initial shock of it all, I believe I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“Yes, what’s that saying? When one door closes another opens? Well, I’ll just have to find that other door.” She wondered if she should mention that huge severance pay to Belinda. Quickly she decided not to.
“Well if it helps you any, I’m done here too,” Belinda disclosed, trying so hard not to cry.
Maren haphazardly pointed to the boxes on the floor. “Help yourself.”
***
Maren drove the forty-five minutes to her home in the nearby suburbs of Concord Hamlet. It was a small colony boasting of nearly three thousand residents with homes in the tiny town and others living on the surrounding outskirts. Many of the homes were original of the early late eighteen hundreds with other homes being built throughout the years. Many vineyards were established here with the growth of Concord grapes. Her parents were included in owning a thriving vineyard and business that was inherited by her great great grandparents. It was something they always dreamed of owning and wanted their children to have that interest to help run the business too. Her brother Rick happily picked up but she wanted to do something else that would carve her way in life. But today that dream ended, and it appeared she would help with the family business also.
It was after two in the afternoon when Maren pulled her Nissan Rogue into the one-time carriage house transformed into a two-car garage. She struggled with the single box that she easily condensed her items inside. Using her butt, she closed the door. Walking to her late eighteen hundred built Stick House she took the six steps leading to the back porch then through a back oak door to a ceramic tiled mudroom, she then reached her kitchen. With a loud sigh, she plopped the box onto the off-white with swirling gray shades granite counter top.
She strolled to the dining room and just removed her coat to drape across one of the chairs when a knock sounded at her front door. Opening it she stared into a large bouquet of flowers.
“Miss Wilson?” A man’s voice came from behind the flowers so large that his face was obscured.
“Yes,” Maren answered, looking surprised at the man holding a tall beautiful crystal vase with a huge bouquet of an array of colorful wildflowers.
“For you, miss.”
“Oh my! They’re beautiful! Are you sure?” She waited as he rattled off her address. With a huge smile, she removed them from his arms and thanked him. After closing the door, she turned to place them on the dining room table. Leaning into them she inhaled the intoxicating mixture of their aroma. “I wonder who could have done this,” she murmured while removing the white envelope stuck between the white plastic fork. “You get down,” she scolded Mr. Whiskers, her orange tabby cat, as she picked him up to place on the Persian rug. Returning to the card, her eyes widened.
“The beauty of these flowers don’t come close to the beauty of the lady I’m having dinner with tonight. Vic!” She exclaimed. “How, when. I never gave him my address hoping he would forget about it.” She reread the note as a warm softening draped over her. “I’m glad he didn’t forget, though.” The ringing of her phone broke into her thoughts. Plunging her hand into her purse she dug it out. “Hello?”
“Hi cutie,” Victor replied, thinking she sounded out of breath.
Maren grinned while feeling the blush warm her cheeks. The sound of his voice brought an instant cheerfulness to sweep over her. She walked back to the flowers, lightly fingering the blossoms. “Vic. I love them. You didn’t need to, you know.”
“Ah. You got them. I did need to,” he ended almost adding, there is something unexplainable about you that stirs my soul, my interest. “Well, I’m glad you like them.”
“Oh goodness, yes. And the card, you missed your calling. You really need to write the insides of greeting cards.”
He laughed, “I meant it. Hey, I’m actually nearby and hope you could make it earlier than seven.”
“Six?”
“Perfect. Can’t wait to see you.”
Hanging up the phone she looked at her cat. “Well, Mr. Whiskers. It seems I have a date tonight and have no idea what I am going to wear.” His loud meow was her answer. “I agree. I’ll find something.” She smiled as she hurried upstairs to grab a bath before delving into her clothes closet.
He ended the call then laid back on the bed in the old-fashioned room he rented from the 1880 circa bed and breakfast two blocks from her home. He grinned at the memory of her voice. It was shy, possibly a bit on the uncomfortable side. She is obviously a lady not used to getting surprises and he decided he wasn’t going to stop there. Picking up his phone, he proceeded to punch the number for the florist, deciding to send her another bouquet.
Maren spent the afternoon primping herself for her night out. Dressed only in a floor-length mint green fluffy robe, she waited for the deep claw foot tub filled with water as she added, even more, bubbles to it. Moving to the mirror above the pedestal sink, she began twisting her hair into an upswept chignon adding loose ends to frame her face. Turning her head left then right, she eyed her round face with flawless medium toned skin and high cheekbones. Her eyes were the color of dark chocolate emphasized with long dark lashes. Perhaps a man could find her on the pretty side but why this man, in particular, would want to go out with her was a huge ass mystery. Eyeing her reflection with disdain, wrinkling her short nose she stuck her tongue out at herself. She was no raving beauty or anything special looking. Sighing she turned to the tub.
Slipping the robe from her body to fall into a soft heap onto the floor, she gingerly stepped from the pile of material into the warmth of the bubbly water. With her worries about losing her job out of the way, she more or less began to focus more on the very handsome enigmatic Victor Montgomery. His boyish, charismatic charm began to seep into her heart. And oh, that kiss. The touch of his lips on hers was surprising but oh so remarkably memorable. Brief, as it was it sure set her chest to flutter. She released a nervous laugh at the memory.
Grabbing her loofah from the wire caddy bath which lay across the tub from the edges, she proceeded to wash her body, the warm soap suds sliding down her arm. She lifted a leg squeezing the soap onto her ankle watching the suds slide to her thigh. She began imagining what it would be like with Victor touching her bare skin. Closing her eyes her finger traced the soaps progress. Smiling she murmured, “Oh Vic, your touch is so magically soft. Oh no, you mustn’t. I’m not easy-yy.” She squealed as her name being called out from the base of her stairs startled her.
“Maren! What have you been doing? Something you not telling me?” Belinda yelled.
“Good lord, Belinda! Stop sneaking into my house! I’m in the tub!”
“I met a delivery man on your porch. You have flowers!” Belinda returned. “And I see this isn’t the first one!” She added, eyeing the bouquet through the arched doorway to the dining room table.
A scowl marred Maren’s face. “Another one? Surely not,” she muttered. Sighing she rose to step from her bath. “I am getting ready for my date,” Maren announced as she walked down the steps wearing her robe.
“Oh yes, the date is tonight,” Belinda replied over her shoulder while walking away from the stairs. “Check this out.”
Maren followed, eyes widening at another large bouquet of blood red roses and baby’s breath. She removed the envelope to read the card inside. “Vic.”
“Is he one excited guy or what,” Belinda teased.
“I’m not sure, possibly both,” Maren giggled. “He’s picking me up at six and I have no idea what to wear yet.”
“You have a whole hour and a half. Let’s get upstairs and find something. You have a lot of beautiful outfits,” Belinda suggested. “I think you need to wear vintage tonight.”
It was forty-five minutes later. Belinda helped her redo her hair as she finished with her makeup. She then left ten minutes ago, and the closet and her bedroom looked like a total disaster area with clothes strewn everywhere from across the queen size four poster bed to the camelback trunk, the rocking chair, and window seat, just so she could find that right outfit.
“Enough is enough. If he doesn’t like how I’m dressed then that is just too damn bad,” Maren declared but she critically eyed her reflection in the standing oval mirror as Mr. Whiskers perched on the edge of the mattress keeping an eye on her. Pivoting her body right then left she decided it would do.
Darkness was falling when Victor pulled onto the red brick driveway checking out the historic house Maren lived in. He let out a long low whistle at the rich beauty of the two and a half story Stick and brick home still held. Looking in front of him, the drive went beneath a Porte-cochere where back in the day a carriage would drive beneath to the back of the house. It was elaborately designed with wrought iron. Getting out of his rental car, he took the seven steps to the wood porch fancily decorated with huge knobbed posts matching spindle frieze balustrade that was interrupted with cut up panels.
He paused at the double oak front door, taking in the architecture of the design glass on top and a stain glass transom. Hell, it seemed every window he could see had some form of lead glass design on top.
“This place is astounding,” he muttered, turning the bell on the door.
“He’s here!” Maren gasped. Her squeal caused Mr. Whiskers to jump from the bed and high-tail it out the door then down the stairs. Giving herself one final look in the mirror, she nodded before grasping a black clutch and coat to hurry down the stairs. In a rush of air, she yanked the door open revealing a very astonished looking Victor.
