by John Gray
As she grew closer to the group, Gavin said to Chase, “You wanna play dress up?”
Chase could see Charlie smiling, her brown eyes waiting for Chase’s response.
Mary said, “I was just telling Gavin that Charlie’s birthday is next week. Christmas isn’t that far off, so we’re having a big party right next door at Charlie’s house in three days.”
Chase smiled. “Parties are fun, but what did you say about dressing up?”
Charlie started signing, as Mary interpreted. “Charlie is saying that on Halloween she had a cold, and it was raining so her parents wouldn’t let her trick or treat. When they asked if she wanted a big birthday party, Charlie asked if people could dress up, kind of like Halloween, just for fun.”
Chase looked at Gavin, who shrugged his shoulders in a hey, why not kind of way, then she looked at Charlie and said, “We’d love to come to your party. Can I invite some friends?”
Charlie nodded as Chase turned to Gavin and said, “We wanted to have a holiday party anyway, to see everyone. This is perfect.”
Gavin smiled and agreed, and Charlie started running back toward her house to plan.
Once she was out of earshot, Mary said, “She’s made so many friends now at school, since getting Bella. Her parents thought this might be a nice way to get them all together. I’m sorry about the costumes. I know that’s weird for a party in December.”
Chase interrupted, “Are you kidding? We’ll have fun.”
Gavin wondered, “So with this cold December air, they’re doing it all inside, I assume, in Charlie’s house?”
Mary replied, “Oh God, no, her parents have more money than the Rockefellers. They’re bringing in huge, heated tents, a heated bounce castle, a hall of mirrors, and another tent just for food and games. This is a big deal.”
“Sounds like the party of the season,” Gavin replied.
Mary looked at her watch and said, “I gotta go. Hey, listen, invite whomever you want. The more the merrier. Costumes are optional but encouraged.”
With that, Mary scooted back over to the neighboring property, as Chase pulled out her phone and said, “I have some calls to make. Maybe I can get Matthew to rent a big SUV and drive the gang out.”
Gavin wondered, “The gang?”
Chase continued, “Nick told me sometimes when things look bad, they’re actually good. And this party idea is good. I think maybe I was looking for Lasik when all along something else was needed.”
“Lasik? Huh?” Gavin said confused.
Chase took his face in her hands and gave him a hard smack on the lips. “You’ll see.”
Three days passed quickly, and Chase, Gavin, and the others she invited from the café all scrambled to find costumes to wear to Charlie’s party.
When Chase dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, Gavin jumped at the chance to go as the Scarecrow. Deb went as the cowardly lion and Raylan completed the ensemble looking exactly like the tin man.
Raylan’s costume was silver from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, with a thin metal mask covering his entire face. Raylan liked costume parties because he could easily hide his scar.
Oscar, the kind man who helped with the dogs, came dressed as a medieval knight. All of them piled into a large Lincoln Navigator that Chase arranged for Matthew to drive, taking the group of friends out to the country.
When they arrived, they weren’t halfway down Chase’s driveway when they heard music booming from the large tents behind Charlie’s house. There had to be more than a hundred people in attendance on that chilly December day, with adults hanging around the food tent and the children attracted to the rides and games. More than a dozen of Charlie’s classmates came with their parents, all dressed up and having a blast.
It was the first opportunity Chase had to see Raylan since the debacle at Serendipity, so she walked over holding Gavin’s hand and said sheepishly, “Hey, you look great. I know you’re not supposed to have a heart in there, being the tin man, but if you do, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for the other day.”
Raylan raised the mask, revealing his real face, and said, “Nothing to forgive. I know you meant well. It’s done. Let’s not worry about it.”
Chase nodded in agreement, and just like that, the awkwardness between them was gone. She cared for Raylan and was happy her misstep hadn’t caused real damage to the friendship.
“I’m going to check out the rest of the party,” Raylan said, as he peeled off and walked toward the tents filled with games of chance.
A moment or two later, a female voice from behind called out to Gavin, “Excuse me. Mr. Scarecrow, can you tell me which way to the wizard?”
It was Bonnie, dressed like a flight attendant.
Gavin smiled and said, “Hey, yourself. I love the outfit, spot on.”
Bonnie looked down at her uniform and said, “It should be—it’s real.”
Chase replied, “You’re a flight attendant, for real?’”
Bonnie replied, with a smile, “Fifteen years with Southwest.”
Chase smiled back. “I had no idea. Good for you.”
Chase then added, “Thank you for coming to the party.”
There was an awkward pause when Chase said, “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to …” With that, her voice drifted off.
Bonnie leaned in closer, whispering now, “Yeah, you did. You were trying to get us together. I wasn’t mad at you, Chase.”
Gavin, sensing the two needed privacy, said, “I’m gonna go grab some lemonade and chat with Oscar. Be right back.”
Once Gavin walked away, Bonnie continued, “Your instincts are right. I do like him, a lot. And I think he likes me. But I’m not so sure he likes himself.”
Chase reached for her arm and said, “He does, he does, he just, you know … the war.”
Bonnie met Chase’s kind eyes and said, “I understand, but I can’t chase after him. That’s not how this works. Not for me.”
Chase for the first time really understood why the two of them weren’t together, and said, “I get it and I agree. I do. I guess you’ll have to wait and see when he’s ready.”
Bonnie then said, “In the meantime, do you want to go grab something to eat and find your boyfriend?”
As the two ladies started walking toward the food tent, some children came scampering from the left side of the property, running away from the rides and games. The kids looked upset.
A parent Chase didn’t know asked a little girl, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
The child turned and pointed toward the house of mirrors and said, “There’s a strange man in there, staring at himself.”
Another parent heard her and said, “Is it like a haunted house? Maybe it’s part of a show or something, dear.”
The child replied, “No. We called out to him and asked if he was okay. I’m not sure he could even hear us.”
Chase then asked, “What does he look like, hon?” The child said, “He’s tall with all silver on and he has a big scar on his face.”
Chase said under her breath, but loud enough for Bonnie to hear, “Raylan.”
Chase’s first instinct was to run into the house of mirrors, but as she started to move, Bonnie took her arm firmly and said, “Let me go.”
Bonnie walked the forty paces to a small structure not much bigger than a mobile home. One side was marked Entrance, the other Exit. A larger sign on the house of mirrors announced Prepare To Be Amazed.
Bonnie slowly entered the house and was immediately greeted by a glass maze. Some of the mirrors made her look tall and thin, the others short and stout, or they squished her face into an odd shape. Kids love this kind of stuff, she thought.
She carefully made her way through the hall of mirrors until she reached a large circular room at the center. There she found Raylan, just as the children described, standing still, his silver tin man mask dangling in his right hand, his eyes transfixed on the mirrors in front of him.
At first, Bonnie couldn’t tell what Raylan was staring at, but as she inched closer, she saw it. The menagerie of mirrors directly in front of Raylan took the left side of his face and flipped it to the opposite side. So, as Raylan looked directly into the glass, his own image was staring back, but the scars were completely gone. Because his left side was on both sides, his face looked normal again, the skin smooth, his features as handsome as they were the day he dove into a burning vehicle to save a stranger long ago.
Raylan rarely looked at old photos of himself before the accident, before he was burned, because they revealed what he used to be. Now this image staring back showed Raylan what he would look like today if he had not traded half his face for another man’s life. It was odd seeing himself this old and yet whole again. He knew it was an illusion, yet still he couldn’t look away.
That’s when a familiar and loving voice broke the spell: “I told you that’s not what I want.”
Raylan turned away from the mirror and saw Bonnie with tears in her eyes. For the first time in a long time, he really looked at her. Bonnie was in her late thirties, carrying the few extra pounds everyone tries to lose at that age. The wrinkles were just starting to creep around her eyes, her short dark hair hinting at the gray that would inevitably come. She never had the face of a runway model, but she was pretty, and Raylan wondered more than a few times what it would be like to caress that face and hold her in his arms.
Raylan took a deep breath and replied, “What do you want, then?”
Bonnie crossed the twelve steps between them and gently placed her hands on Raylan’s face, her fingertips lightly touching his scar. “I want this, you idiot. I’ve always wanted this.”
Chase and Gavin stumbled around the corner, bringing themselves to the center of the house of mirrors, just as Raylan put his own hands on Bonnie’s face and drew her in close for a soft kiss.
The tin man mask fell to the floor as Chase put both of her hands over her own mouth, trying to stifle the gasp that revealed her joy. Gavin grabbed hold of her hips and silently pulled her away, giving the two lovebirds privacy.
As they left the small house of mirrors, Gavin realized that while Chase was most certainly a fine writer, her real gift was in helping people. She was the rarest find a man could hope for, because seeing others happy brought her more joy than anything she could want for herself.
As they walked hand in hand back toward the crowded party, Gavin paused, then looked up at the clear starry night and realized something else too. He was going to ask Chase to marry him, very soon. But there was something he wanted to show her first. A place she’d love, where Chase would not only shame the angels, but where the heavens above look down with wonder.
CHAPTER 25
Money over Memories
The morning after the party, Chase assumed, would be a quiet one. Gavin had already gone back to Vermont to help his dad on the farm for a couple of days, so it was just Chase and Scooter wandering around the big old house. She noticed the rose was gone again from the back wall, while her pup was busy sitting just outside the room where they kept the board games and those strange messages had appeared.
She walked past Scooter, pulled Scrabble off the top of the pile, and said, “What da’ya say, champ? You want to play? You’ve been quiet since the elevator scare.”
The dog, looking unamused, got up and walked down the hallway in silence, causing Chase to say, “Alrighty then.”
As Chase tossed the box back on the shelf, she heard the doorknocker bang.
Nick the handyman? She wondered as she marched back toward the front of the house. Once she pulled the heavy wooden door open, she was greeted by an unfamiliar face. The man was in his early forties, dressed in a jet-black three-piece suit with shoes so shiny you could comb your hair in the reflection. She also spotted a brand-new Bentley automobile idling in her circular driveway, a man with a chauffeur’s outfit and matching cap, still as a statue, behind the wheel.
“Excuse me for the unannounced visit. I’m Clayton Philmont, and I’m looking for Chase Harrington,” is how the man in the suit began.
Chase, wearing an oversized flannel shirt and faded jeans, replied, “You found her.”
Clayton continued, “I’d invite myself in at your request, but it’s such a pleasant morning—might we converse on the steps of your portico?”
Chase replied, “My what?”
The stranger gestured with his hand like a game show host showing a contestant the car they may win, repeating, “Your portico, this area right outside the door.”
Chase possessed a strong vocabulary, but even that one threw her, responding, “Sure. Why not. How can I help you?”
Clayton then, “You’re a writer, correct?”
Chase replied, “I am.”
Clayton, “Well let me employ a catchphrase of your occupation and say I don’t want to bury the lead.”
Chase understood him this time adding, “That’s a newspaper term, meaning you want to get right to the point. So?”
Clayton produced a single sheet of paper, folded in three, from his inside breast pocket saying, “I’m here to buy your house. I’ve taken the liberty of having three independent assessors estimate the value of the home and land, and all are within a few thousand of each other. I’m prepared to pay the highest one and add five percent as a sweetener so we can hurry this along.”
Chase took the document from Clayton and could immediately see all three appraisals were in the millions, and each started with the number four.
All she could do was stare at all those zeros, then ask, “Who are you again?”
He replied, “Clayton Philmont. I was planning to buy this house at auction, and then that incredible turn of events happened with you buying the sketch, and well, here we are. It’s your lucky day, though. I’m here to make you rich. Looking at your outfit, it appears you could use the money.”
Chase ignored the insult, instead looking over at the driver in the gas-guzzling car that was still running.
Chase turned to Clayton, saying, “You know about climate change and all, right? Could he possibly shut off the engine while we talk?”
Without hesitation the man in the natty suit called out, “Franklin. Kill the engine.”
Just like that the car went silent.
“Thank you,” Chase said, and then asked, “Can I ask you how you got my name? Everything with the auction was kept private.”
Clayton shrugged his shoulders and said, “I could lie to you, but what’s the point? I bribed a guy I know at Sotheby’s to give me your name.”
Chase nodded, a bit impressed with his ingenuity, and asked, “So how much is my name going for these days?”
Clayton leaned in, “Two premium tickets to the Met Gala next spring. That’s worth about four thousand bucks.”
Chase raised her eyebrows, “Wow, that’s a lot of money for prime rib.”
Clayton again, “Well, Celine Dion is performing, so there’s that.” Chase nodded, adding, “Gotcha.”
Chase then rubbed her hands together to stave off the cold and added bluntly, “I’m sorry you spent all that money and drove all the way out here, Clayton, but the house isn’t for sale.”
The obviously wealthy man walked away from her now, looking up at the roofline and windows, talking as he walked, “Oh, come, come now, everything is for sale at the right price.”
Chase raised an eyebrow and followed after him. “Everything?”
Clayton then, “You know what I mean.”
He then stopped snooping around the yard and turned back to her, “I looked into you. You’re a writer who went to an auction and meant to buy an old sketch, nothing more. The rest was dumb luck. You’re not from here, you have no family in Manhattan or Briarcliff, none that I could find, and so you have no attachment to the place.”
Chase folded her arms a bit defiantly. “And you do? Have an attachment to this home?”
Clayton responded, “Oh yes, I’ve h
ad my eye on this property for a decade, and when the old coot finally went, I mean when Sebastian Winthrop passed on to a better place, I planned to buy it.”
Chase ignored his snarky insult to the previous owner and observed, “It’s funny, I don’t remember seeing you at the auction.”
“I don’t go to those things,” he replied in a cocky tone. “I send someone to place my bid. If you saw someone with a cell phone pressed to their ear, that was me on the other end.”
Chase looked back at the property and was thinking about all the things that had already happened in such a short time, and her new friends Mary and Charlie next door.
As she was lost in those nice memories, Clayton said, “I apologize if I come off a bit pushy. I just want what I want and I’m willing to pay you handsomely for it. Imagine what a young writer could do with all that money.”
Chase turned to him, engaging his eyes, then asked sincerely, “And what about memories? The ones I already have here, the million more that I might make?”
Clayton took out his phone from his breast pocket, checking messages and sighing, indicating that this was already taking too long.
He then said smugly, “I’m offering money over memories. You’d be wise to take it.”
Just then a familiar old truck, with rust holding the bumper together, pulled into the driveway. The groundskeeper, Nick, opened the door with a loud squeak, then slammed it shut. He peered across the lawn and was troubled by something he saw in Chase’s body language.
Nick reached into the flatbed of the truck and retrieved a sharp spade used for stabbing weeds, and marched over with purpose, shouting, “Everything all right, Chase?”
Chase put her hand up, motioning him to stop his approach. “All good, Mr. Hargraves. All good. The gentleman is just going.”
Clayton gave the old man with the garden tool a hard look and realized, despite his age, the groundskeeper looked like he could snap someone’s leg like a rotted-out tree branch.
Sensing his welcome was well worn out, he retrieved a business card from the vest pocket and said, “Keep the appraisals, add five percent, and think about my offer. Here’s my card.”
