Unforgettable You

by Marci Bolden

“You can’t put a price on fresh produce.” Carrie echoed what Mama used to say when Carrie had whined about coming to work so early on Saturday mornings. “They”—she nodded toward a booth that held handmade and antique jewelry—“overcharge.”

  “Just buy it, Carolyn,” Mama insisted, as she did every week.

  Will looked in the direction where Carrie was staring longingly. “Buy what?”

  “She’s had her eye on a bracelet for months,” Mama said.

  “Which one?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Carrie said.

  He headed for the booth. “Show me.”

  “No. Will.” She held on to Mama so she couldn’t follow.

  Doreen smiled up at her. “He’s a nice boy.”

  “We still need apples.”

  “I’ll bet your father would approve.”

  Carrie wasn’t sure if Mama was referring to Carrie’s biological father or Doreen’s deceased husband. These conversations were never clear until they carried on a little further, but for this particular talk, it didn’t matter. “We’re just friends.”

  “Does he know that?”

  Carrie turned to watch Will talk to the starstruck woman behind the table. She wished she could tell Mama what had happened earlier and how confused she had been since, but there was no way of knowing how Doreen would react. The urge reminded Carrie how much she used to rely on Mama for advice on everything from cooking to matters of the heart and how far gone Doreen really was.

  “Oh,” Carrie cooed, pointing to a sign several tables down to divert her attention as well as Mama’s. “They have Honeycrisp apples. Let’s get those. Come on.”

  “What about Will?”

  “He’ll catch up.” Carrie led Doreen through the growing crowd. She looked back, watching people pointing and staring at Will, and wondered how he could stand it.

  It hadn’t bothered him one bit that people had stopped and stared as soon as he’d climbed out of Carrie’s car. He didn’t seem at all put off by posing for a picture for every girl who ran up squealing and gushing about how amazing he was or signing everything from napkins to shirts as Carrie and Mama squeezed through the crowd to do their shopping.

  Looking over the apples, she wondered how he could want a life with no privacy, no anonymity. She even wondered if he’d meant what he’d said about not wanting all the attention fame had brought him. He certainly seemed to be lapping it up.

  Turning back to where she’d left him, she pushed her annoyance aside and took a closer look at him as he posed for another picture. She noticed how stiff he was, how forced his smile appeared, and how tense his hugs were until he finally waved and dismissed the group and then pushed his way through.

  “That’s it,” Carrie told the vendor before Will could get to their booth.

  “Is that William Walker?” the woman behind the table asked, ignoring Carrie.

  “How much do I owe you?” Carrie pressed.

  “Oh my God.” The woman ran her hand over her hair. “It is.”

  When Will approached and flashed a smile, Carrie thought the woman might pass out. A strange feeling filled her. Not jealousy, but something unsettling. This was the first time she’d seen one of her guests out of the privacy of the inn. She didn’t know why she was surprised at the reaction people were having, but more than that, she was surprised at the reaction she was having. Seeing people fawn over Will was to be expected. What Carrie hadn’t expected was the underlying sense of resentment she felt—not at having other people notice Will, but at how he drew their attention to her.

  As he stopped next to her and put his hand on the small of her back, Carrie couldn’t help but feel like a spotlight had been aimed at her. She didn’t like that feeling.

  “Oh, apples,” Will said, seemingly oblivious to how everyone was watching him. “I love apples. Did you get some of these?”

  “I did. How much?” Carrie asked the woman.

  The vendor stuttered as she pushed the bag of fruit toward Carrie. “No charge.”

  “Come on,” Carrie protested. “How much?”

  “Really. On the house.”

  Carrie frowned as they walked away from the booth, another bag of free produce in the cart she was pulling behind her. She cast Mama a disapproving look when the woman laughed and clapped her hands.

  Will smiled at the old woman. “Don’t you think it’s nice of these people to let us shop for free?”

  “Why, yes,” she agreed mischievously. “I do. Lord knows we’ve spent enough of our money here over the years. It’s time they let us have something in return.”

  “This is how many of them make a good portion of their money,” Carrie informed the duo with more frustration than she’d intended. Stopping her forward march, she waited for Will to look at her. “It isn’t right to take handouts from them.”

  “She’s right.” Will gave Mama an exaggerated scowl that made her giggle.

  Carrie shook her head at them. “I’m serious. These farmers struggle to make ends meet. Don’t take things for free, even when they offer. The very least you can do is make a donation in exchange.”

  Will’s smile faded, and Carrie thought she’d overstepped, but then his casual smile returned. “Well, there is one booth that didn’t hesitate to take my money.”

  Carrie’s mouth sagged when he held up the bracelet she’d admired a hundred times but refused to buy.

  “Since you wouldn’t tell me which one,” he told her, “I had to point you out. She knew exactly what you wanted.”

  “You bought it?” Carrie asked softly.

  “Yeah. And this.” He held up a necklace in the other hand. “I thought you’d like this,” he said to Doreen.

  “For me?” She blushed. “How sweet!”

  He draped the long string of colorful beads around her neck before turning to Carrie. “A thank-you. For bringing me with you today.”

  Sunlight danced off the various charms on the bracelet he held open for her. “That is a very expensive thank-you for bringing you to the farmer’s market.”

  He gave her one of those deep, searching looks. “For everything else too.”

  “I can’t—”

  “When someone gives you a gift, Carolyn,” he playfully chastised, “you say ‘thank you’ and graciously accept it.”

  “It’s been a while since someone bought me a gift that cost so much, William.”

  He smiled and winked at her.

  “Put it on,” Mama encouraged. “You’ve wanted it for so long.”

  Carrie hesitated a few more seconds before holding her arm out to Will. He clasped the antique charm bracelet around her wrist and then ran his fingers over the charms, brushing her skin as he did. The light touch caused her breath to catch.

  “You shouldn’t be buying me gifts,” she whispered.

  “I wanted to,” he softly said in return.

  She fought the urge to touch his face, to kiss him gently, but she couldn’t stop herself from taking his hand and holding his gaze. “Thank you.”

  “Was that so hard?” He grinned before stepping back and turning toward Doreen. “I have to say, that necklace looks lovely on you, Mama.”

  Carrie didn’t hear more of their conversation. She was too busy evading the stares of all the people looking at Will and, she suspected, wondering why he was putting jewelry on two strange women. Several of them had their phones aimed at Will, obviously taking photos or video of him hanging out at the farmer’s market.

  Those videos would end up on social media somewhere, and Carrie’s unease grew. The last thing she wanted was to be picked apart online because she happened to be standing with Will in public.

  “I think we have everything we need,” she announced as her discomfort grew, bordering on panic.

  “Are you still up for the art center?” Will asked.

  “I most certainly am.” Doreen put her arm through Will’s. “I can’t remember the last time Carolyn and I did something for the fun of it. She’s all b
usiness these days.”

  “That’s a shame.” Will gave Carrie a wink and a smile. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Carrie warned as they headed back to the car.

  The art museum was small compared to some others he’d been to, but Will was enjoying the displays as they walked through the galleries. More than that, he was enjoying being out of Gable Inn. Sitting still for too long made him feel twitchy. He liked to be on the move, and the little town where the cast had been staying, while quaint, didn’t offer much entertainment.

  However, he had to admit the quiet was giving him time to think and see his life a little more clearly. Or maybe that was the woman standing beside him. Carrie thought her life was a mess, but Will suspected she was more put together than she realized. Now his life…that was a mess.

  Ever since his father had passed away, Will felt like he’d lost direction. The wake-up call had come too late, and Will still hadn’t come to fully understand what it meant. All he knew was he’d been spiraling for too long, but being with Carrie made him feel grounded in some unexpected way.

  She was an anchor he hadn’t known he was looking for and one he couldn’t explain. He wanted to be there with her more than he wanted to be anywhere else in the world, because being next to her reminded him he was real. He was more than a name or a brand or product to be sold. He was a person, and though he’d long ago lost touch with who that person was, she made him long to reconnect with the side of himself he’d tucked away into the shadows years ago.

  Looking at her now, he wanted to wrap her up and hug her close, to feel connected to her. Luckily, his train of thought was derailed by the other woman standing next to him.

  Mama tilted her head, peering at a sculpture. “I don’t get it.”

  “Me either,” Carrie said.

  “It’s art,” Will explained, clearing his mind of his deeper reflections. “It’s been left open to interpretation.”

  “Interpretation, my ass,” Mama said, making Will laugh. “I prefer landscapes and portraits. Give me something I can identify and admire. This contemporary art is garbage. Anybody can put a bowling ball in a toilet.”

  “But only one person did so and gave it a name,” Will said.

  Mama blew a raspberry and waved her hand. “It’s junk.”

  “I’m with Mama.” Carrie moved on to the next piece. “I prefer Van Gogh, Monet, Renoir.”

  “Picasso?” Will added hopefully.

  Carrie scrunched up her nose. “Not so much.”

  “I like Morisot,” Mama said. “She did lovely portraits.”

  “She did.” Carrie nodded.

  “I think you two are missing out on something special.” Will laughed when Carrie dismissed his observation with a roll of her eyes. He gestured to the next piece. “This expresses the torment the artist has endured. This is a reflection of his pain and inner demons.”

  Carrie and Doreen looked at him with unimpressed expressions. They might not have been related by blood, but they certainly shared a lot of mannerisms, including the pressed lips and one cocked eyebrow.

  “Come on.” Carrie took Mama’s hand. “Let’s move along.”

  “We haven’t seen everything yet,” Will stated.

  “I’ve seen enough,” Carrie said, and Mama agreed. They entered the next exhibit, where huge frames adorned the walls with skillfully painted landscapes inside. “This is much better,” Carrie said.

  Will frowned, even though Carrie and Mama looked much more impressed by what they were viewing.

  “Look at that.” Mama pointed to a painting filled with flowers, wispy clouds, and a colorful sky. “That is art.”

  “It’s a field,” Will said flatly. The lack of inspiration it took to copy landscape wasn’t something that excited him much. Yes, the artist had undeniable skills, but no imagination. He found the image with the common colors and even more common setting to be boring despite the artist’s talent.

  “Look closer,” Carrie said. “Imagine being there with the sweet scent of all those flowers in the air, the breeze cooling you down from the hot day.” She smiled and sighed. “It’s beautiful.”

  He turned to her. The subtle spreading of her smile was the only sign she gave that she knew he was watching her. “You’re beautiful.”

  Carrie hesitated before turning her attention to him. “You’re staring at me again.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” he confessed under his breath. He leaned a bit closer. “I’m going to have start plotting ways to get you alone.”

  Carrie glanced to where Doreen had stopped several paintings down. “We have to be very careful, Will.”

  “I know.” He put space between them. “And we will. We’ll be very careful.”

  “I don’t just mean her.” She subtly pointed behind him. “That couple hasn’t stopped staring at you since we walked into this room. That’s not something I want, Will,” she whispered. “Not for me and most definitely not for Doreen.”

  Will’s heart dropped to his stomach. He wasn’t quite certain what she was saying, but he understood enough to know she was drawing a boundary. A boundary few people in his life ever drew. Most people enjoyed the attention. Most people tried to use it to get something in return—social media following or the attention of an agent. Few people shied away from being seen with William Walker, even after his starlight had started to fade.

  In fact, the last people to draw those boundaries and insist their lives were private had been his family, who had insisted his father’s funeral go unannounced to avoid any “unnecessary chaos” Will’s attendance would bring. His brother had gone to great lengths to point out that because of Will, they hadn’t been able to invite members of their church or friends of their father. Because of Will, they’d had to treat their father’s funeral like a dirty little secret that was only exposed well after the fact.

  Rolling his shoulders back, Will forced a smile to his face. “I guess we’ll have to be more careful,” he said and left her standing there as he approached Mama. Certainly being seen with a sixty-plus-year-old woman at an art museum couldn’t attract too much attention.

  Chapter 8

  Carrie pulled the blankets down on Mama’s bed. “Good day?”

  “Very good. Will is a very nice young man.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Climbing under the sheets, Mama snuggled down in her bed. “It was nice of him to take us out to such a fancy restaurant tonight.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “And he bought you that bracelet you’ve been wanting and me that beautiful necklace.”

  “Yes.”

  Taking Carrie’s hand, Mama squeezed it. “Mike would want you to be happy, darling. He wouldn’t want you wasting your life taking care of me.”

  Carrie stared at her, startled by the moment of clarity. “I know he would. But I’m not wasting my life, and Will is a friend.”

  “He could be more.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He lives in California. He spends his life surrounded by perfect women who don’t mind people staring at them all the time. He flies around the world filming movies and attending award shows. Everybody knows him. I’m just… I’m just a rural beatnik from Iowa, Mama. I don’t think things could work between us.”

  “Oh. That’s disappointing, isn’t it?”

  Carrie nodded before leaning in and hugging Doreen tightly. She couldn’t remember the last time Mama knew what was going on. It filled her heart and broke it at the same time. “It is disappointing, but I’ve accepted that.”

  “You should reconsider that. Good men are hard to find. It took me years to find your father.”

  And the clarity was gone.

  Disappointment tugged at Carrie, but she squeezed Doreen a bit tighter before leaning back and putting a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “Good night.” She waited until Doreen settled under the covers before standing up.

  Carrie w
alked downstairs and into the kitchen, intending to open a bottle of sweet red wine and sit on the patio by the fire to quietly end her busy day. She slowed to a stop when she found Will standing at the island, filling a glass with the very wine she had planned on sipping.

  He smiled bashfully. “I thought we could sit by the fire.” He looked at the wine when she simply stared at him. “I wasn’t ready to say good night.”

  “And you knew I’d be back down?”

  “You’re a little predictable.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, every night, you put Doreen to bed, and then you come back downstairs to clean and sit in the den or outside, usually with a glass of wine or a cup of decaf nearby. I chose wine tonight.”

  She sighed. “My God, I am predictable.” Taking one of the glasses, she stepped around him and out onto the patio.

  “It’s not a bad thing.” Will followed her.

  “No?”

  “I enjoy your predictability.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s refreshing in my world of chaos.”

  “Well, I’m glad I can help.”

  While he added wood to the pit, Carrie stuck in some kindling and started the fire.

  Sinking into a chair after the fire roared to life, she sipped her wine and tried to not be so aware of Will sitting next to her. Watching the stars flicker had almost relaxed her when he reached out and covered her hand with his as casually as he would with a longtime lover.

  “I had a really good day,” he said quietly.

  “Me too.” Her voice had an unexpected tremble at the feel of his thumb lazily dragging back and forth over her hand. Taking a drink, she noticed how difficult breathing had become and couldn’t help but wonder how her body would react to something more than a simple holding of her hand.

  She could very vividly recall how it had felt to have his arms around her earlier in the day, how hard he had been, how nice it had felt to lean on someone, and she couldn’t help but want it again.

  “You look like you’re a million miles away.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Mama remembered that Mike was dead.” She listened to the silence before continuing. “It was like she’d always known.”