Meet Me on Love Lane

by Nina Bocci

  “I mean, I was okay. No one bothered me. She found me eventually at the police station— You know, I’m going to stop talking.”

  My father’s face was shockingly pale. More so than usual.

  “Good idea,” Gigi said, trying to take my dad’s hand. He looked grief-stricken, his light blue eyes awash with unspilled tears. As if something had happened to me. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. It was one thing for him to assume that my mother wasn’t the best parent, but to have proof? After everything he had done to try to gain custody only to be told his travel made him unfit? Good thing she wasn’t around to be on the receiving end of what was sure to be a riotous argument.

  Dr. Max took that opportunity to save the night. “Dinner is ready! Charlotte, I hope you’ve brought your appetite. I may have gotten carried away. I set you a place next to me.”

  * * *

  AFTER WE CLEANED up dinner, Dad thankfully had calmed down. The four of us sat in the parlor, Dr. Max and I on opposite ends of the couch. He had engaged Dad and Gigi in a discussion about some sort of medical mumbo jumbo and I pretended that I understood a third of what they were discussing. I didn’t.

  “You know, I did my residency in New York,” he offered, popping a mint into his mouth. “I thought about staying, but I like it here. It’s slower and not as chaotic. I love the city, don’t get me wrong, but this seems like a great place to have a life and family.” He winked, offering me a mint. “Someday, of course.”

  “I can see the appeal,” I admitted, wary of the fact that my dad and Gigi were not-so-secretly eavesdropping on the conversation. I wasn’t going to lie, though—even with them listening. I could see the attraction to this place. It had a lot to offer a family. Good schools, activities, nice people. What more could you want?

  “It seems like more and more younger families are moving in. At least that’s what Emma said,” I stated.

  “She’d know. She has her finger on the pulse of Hope Lake.”

  That she did. “I suppose since news travels at lightning speed in this town that you’re all aware of an offer that Emma made to me today?”

  “Kiddo, I’ve waited all night for you to bring it up. Spill,” Gigi said, taking a sip of her decaf coffee. “Emma mentioned to me that there was a job offer, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I have an idea, but that’s only because I was at the last town-planning meeting with Cooper.”

  She added quickly, “Not because Emma told me what she was thinking. Or that Lucille told everyone she hated how much work the shop was becoming.”

  “This place can’t keep a secret.” I chuckled.

  “Don’t be mad at Emma, honey,” Dad said gently. “She was excited and wanted to tell … well, everyone.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And, I may have said that I thought it was a top-notch idea and that you’d be silly not to take it.”

  “Yeah, but what if they—”

  “What if they what, dear? Honestly, I love you more than anything, but stop living in what-ifs.” Gigi turned to Dr. Max. “Emma asked Charlotte to help open and run the new floral shop Lucille bought!”

  Gigi was not pulling any punches. If she was able, I imagined she would have stood, grabbed a chair, and placed it directly in front of me to drive her point home.

  “Charlotte, this is a no-brainer,” Dad said, brushing his hair back from his face. “It’s a great opportunity. Besides, you never know—”

  “I’m going to stop you right there,” I said, holding up my hand. “Yes, this is a great opportunity to help Emma, and this Lucille, and also earn some money this summer. But I’m not going to walk around pie-eyed thinking that this is going to be smooth sailing and that it has an extended future. It could all blow up in my face. So let’s not start assuming I’m going to stay here.”

  It came out harsher than I anticipated or intended. Everyone’s eyes were trained in their laps, and I felt like crawling under the table. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I just meant that—” I began, but Gigi cut me off.

  “Sweetheart, we’re all just so happy you’re here. You can’t fault us for hoping that this would be a permanent change if you found that you were really, truly capable of being happy here. We’ll take you for as long as we can.”

  Dad nodded. “Whatever your decision ends up being, we’ll support it. I know Emma will, too. She’s just as glad as we are that you’re home. Sorry, back.”

  “I know I sound awful, I just don’t want anyone to count on me in the long term and then be disappointed or, worse, mad, because I want to leave.” Cooper’s words had taken a firm hold in my thoughts since he asked me not to give Emma hope that I was staying.

  Gigi smiled. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “Anything,” I said quickly, meaning it. I would give her anything I possibly could.

  “Keep an open mind. I know you’ve got a lot of preconceived notions about this place, but someone or something might have you totally surprised. I’d hate for you to miss out on something great because you’ve got your head in the sand.”

  I smiled reassuringly, even though I was feeling anything but reassured. “I promise. I will go into this with an open mind.”

  “That’s all any of us can ask for,” Dad said, checking his watch.

  “Have somewhere to be?” I asked, hoping that we’d be able to have a couple of minutes to chat.

  “Early appointments tomorrow, and I promised Barreton’s ER staff that I’d pop back up there beforehand to make sure everything was okay after the accident.”

  “Then we’ve got to pack for Manhattan,” Max said, standing and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m not sure if you remember what we talked about the first day you arrived. You were a bit worse for the wear.”

  I thought back. “A conference or something, right?”

  He nodded, and while Gigi pulled him into a conversation about more medical mumbo jumbo, I checked him out. He wasn’t quite as big as Henry, but he was tall, well-built, and I could see why so many women were drawn to joining his fan club.

  “How long is the trip again?” I asked, standing and walking over to my dad for a hug.

  “Soup to nuts, we’ll be gone five days.” Dad pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry that we’re leaving. Had I known you’d be here, and not there as we planned, I would have tried to reschedule or cancel.”

  I squeezed him back. “Dad, I can survive five days without you here. I promise not to get into any more trouble,” I said, laughing when he whispered, “How’d you know I was going to suggest that?”

  As Gigi retired to her room and Dad took off, I walked Dr. Max out.

  We stood side by side on the porch, looking out at the miles of field before us. “I heard what you told your dad about not looking for Mr. Right while you’re in town.”

  I blushed. “I partially said that because he would be a worrywart if I said I was looking for someone. Which I’m not, but I’m not not looking.”

  He turned, facing me. One thing about Max that I liked was that he gave me space. I didn’t feel confused when he was around. It was easy. No pressure. “How about this—when I come back from New York, you think about us having dinner. Or maybe drinks.”

  “You’re okay with that? Keeping this casual?” I asked.

  “That’s perfect.” Max took my hand and laid a gentle kiss across my knuckles.

  “Good,” I responded, feeling the tingle his lips made against my skin fade away.

  10

  “Are you sure all of these people are necessary?” I asked, tugging on the hem of my shirt. I’m glad I listened to Gigi and ironed it, though there were still a few errant wrinkles in the blue peplum top.

  A few days after I accepted Emma’s proposal, I went to meet her at her office in the Borough Building, a beautifully restored, multi-story building toward the center of town. Besides helping Lucille get the shop ready to open, I had been given my first big job: the annual Fourth of July festivities in the park. I needed t
o attend the town council meeting where the festival would be discussed. She wanted to “blow the doors off the town,” and, apparently, I was the person for the job. From what I was told, I just had to be there in case they had questions.

  I really didn’t want to draw attention to myself, but I definitely felt like I was under the microscope when I walked in to see a group of curious-looking people in a large, dimly lit room. At least I had come prepared in case anyone wanted specifics.

  Rows of chairs lined the main expanse of the room. At the head of the space was a long, thin table filled with what I assumed were the important people in town.

  Cooper was off to the side chatting with Emma’s dad, Enrico. They had their heads buried in what looked like blueprints. “Hey,” I said, motioning to Emma’s fiancé and father. “I thought you said your dad wasn’t in an elected position anymore?”

  She huffed. “He’s not officially on anything. He keeps offering to create these subcommittees and chair them. I wish he’d enjoy retirement!”

  Suddenly a thin, weary-looking man in an ill-fitting suit cleared his throat before pounding a gavel on the long wooden table where he sat at the front of the room. “Attention. Attention.”

  “Oh, grab a seat. I have to be up front, but you’ll be fine. They just want to make sure that you can handle the event.”

  My eyes grew wide. “Emma!” I whispered, tugging on her shirtsleeve to keep her near me. “You said this was to talk about budgets and designs with a couple of people. You never mentioned that I needed to speak in front of a crowd.”

  She looked guilty. “I didn’t? I thought I did. I’m sorry, my brain is mush with wedding, work, and my mother trying to figure out a way to be the mother of the bride and the flower girl because she saw it on BuzzFeed.”

  “Wait, what? You know, never mind. I’ll figure it out,” I said, realizing that Emma had way too much on her mind.

  I hope.

  The man in the center of the table clutched the gavel as if he were afraid someone would take it away from him. Cooper sat at one end of the table with Enrico on the other. The smile never left Enrico’s face.

  The gavel wielder seemed annoyed that he wasn’t the only person on the dais, judging by the side-eye he was giving everyone.

  “Attention. Welcome to the June town council planning meeting. Tonight’s agenda is long. I plan on being here for the foreseeable future, examining each and every single detail thoroughly, so settle in for a long night.” His remarks were met with a chorus of groans and people shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

  Just as he turned the first page on an impressively thick stack of papers, my phone’s shrill text tone rang out in the otherwise silent room.

  Gavel man’s eyes whipped up, as well as the eyes of every other person in the room. Emma snorted but covered it quickly with a fake cough behind her hand.

  I dived into my purse, scrambling to find the phone to silence it. Whoever was texting was firing off multiple messages, so it continued to ding incessantly. Finally, at the very bottom of the bag, I found it and switched it to silent.

  When I looked up, everyone was still staring, but to add insult to injury, they were now whispering behind their hands. Gavel man gave a quick rap on the table, which drew everyone’s attention back to him.

  He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but did you not see the sign?”

  I kept my head down and focused on the phone. In my effort to silence it, I managed to make a call to Gigi, who was now answering. “My God, this night can’t get any worse,” I whispered, hanging up and sending her a quick text apologizing but that I’d explain what happened later.

  “Excuse me?” the voice shouted, louder and more persistent this time.

  “Charlotte,” Emma whispered, and I glanced up.

  Mr. Gavel was staring down at me as if willing my chair to be sucked into the floor. “I said, did you not see the sign?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

  He huffed, looking indignantly to the rest of the panel, all of whom glanced away.

  “The sign upon entering,” he barked, pointing toward the wall where a sign clearly read

  SILENCE YOUR CELL PHONES

  My attention slid back to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. My grandmother was just checking in on me,” I lied, because in reality I had no idea who had sent the barrage of texts. I’d check once the focus wasn’t on me any longer.

  He adjusted his seat. I noticed his chair was larger than the others at the table. Compensating much?

  “Carrying on,” he said, turning another page on the impressive stack. If he planned on going over every page there, we wouldn’t be leaving until sometime next week.

  Curling the hem of my shirt over the phone on my lap, I scrolled through the messages, smiling when I saw they were all from Max.

  MAX: Hey

  MAX: Sorry

  MAX: To

  MAX: Text

  MAX: During your

  MAX: meeting

  MAX: But

  MAX: Was just thinking about

  MAX: You

  MAX: And thought

  MAX: I’d

  MAX: Say

  MAX: hi

  I smiled down at the phone but schooled my features when I heard a throat clear. He had been sending a message here and there, just to say hi.

  The gesture was thoughtful, and it let me know that I was on his mind. It earned another smile despite the earlier embarrassment, but I wondered if he had ever sent flirty messages, hell, any message, to another human being before. He wasn’t much older than me and yet, he was sending texts in the same fashion that my father did.

  As I was replying, another popped up.

  I hid the phone under the fabric of my peplum top, trying to discreetly read and reply.

  MAX: Sorry, I was on the treadmill in the hotel and I was trying to send it from my watch.

  MAX: My bad.

  ME: No worries. Focus on running.

  ME: Thanks for the “hi.”

  Something about the texts was weighing on me. He was the one who initiated the contact, not me. Did I find him attractive? Of course, I’m human. But that feeling, those butterflies in the stomach, weren’t there. Maybe it was a sign that a summer fling really wasn’t what I was looking for. Or maybe I needed to spend more time with him that wasn’t a stroll at midnight.

  Paying attention to the meeting was harder than I thought. I tried to relax, but nothing was working. I felt sweaty, cold, and on fire all at once, and everything was from the prospect of having to talk to this crowd, especially after what just transpired with the phone and gavel man’s rebuke. Being thrown under the bus wasn’t my cup of tea. I was trying to give Emma slack, but this wasn’t how I wanted to have to meet the town.

  Ten minutes into the meeting, I found myself fighting to stay awake. The seat was plastic, and hard under my butt, and I was starting to doze off even though I was woefully uncomfortable. The speaker’s voice was flat, with zero inflection. Like the teacher in Ferris Bueller who repeated Ferris’s name. Bueller. Bueller.

  If someone spoke out of turn, he banged the gavel against the table, furiously trying to get the attention back onto him and the conversation on track. If someone sneezed or, heaven forbid, coughed, he would pointedly stare and wait until they were done before continuing. I caught Cooper chuckling a few times. Enrico continually rolled his eyes, and Emma—well, Emma looked like she wanted to vault over the desk and strangle him.

  After about thirty of the longest minutes of my life, the door creaked open and Henry appeared apologetically in the doorway. He gave a small wave to Cooper, then proceeded to glance around the room, I assumed to find somewhere to sit. I had two seats near me, and an unexplained eagerness to sit next to him.

  With a deep breath, I tried to school my features. There was excitement building to talk to him that I couldn’t quite squash. He was attractive, smart, employed; he didn’t appear to be married. There was
an innocence about his look, though. Max was sure of himself, poised, and very alpha. Henry took more of a subtle I don’t know that I’m the hottest dude alive approach that I found endlessly attractive.

  I gave him a small wave, trying to get his attention. Just after Henry closed the door quietly, Nick came bursting through with zero regard for the fact that a meeting was in session.

  Gavel man was so irritated at Nick’s intrusion that he slammed the gavel repeatedly on the table until Nick finally looked over to him. He just waved him off and kept shaking hands with people he walked by as if he wasn’t aware that he was disrupting.

  Smothering a laugh, I waved to them both. Nick slapped Henry’s arm and motioned to come toward me. They couldn’t have been more opposite.

  Henry walked quietly toward me, while Nick lumbered over with heavy boots thunking against the carpeting.

  “Hey,” Nick whispered, taking a seat to my right.

  Smiling at Henry, who was trying to stay out of the way of the people behind us, I tugged on his hand and slid over, so he could sit between Nick and me. Like Nick, he appeared to come straight from work: in his case, the school. I wondered when school was over. His polo shirt was untucked, but he didn’t look sloppy, anything but. His khaki pants were well tailored to fit him.

  “Hi, guys. What are you doing here?”

  Nick scoffed. “We were summoned.”

  “Emma,” Henry and Nick said together.

  I smiled. “I can certainly appreciate that. I’m here thanks to her, too. I can’t believe this turnout. Is it always this busy at town meetings?”

  Henry shook his head but kept his eyes forward as he spoke quietly. “No, it’s the Fourth of July festival. It always draws the crowd. People come to sign up and help. You just happened to pick the busiest meeting to sit in on. After the festival, it’ll just be Kirby, and the rest of the council, and that’ll be it.”

  “Kirby?” I whispered toward them.

  “The dope with the gavel,” Nick offered, hooking his thumb up toward Mr. Gavel, who was now seething because someone’s cell phone rang. “He’s the head of the town council and houses the biggest stick up his ass.”