by Daria White
She’d agreed to give Javier a chance. Her date with him had been perfect. Chantelle enjoyed her conversations with him. Staring at Lance though, the feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her.
She must have ignored it before. Her primary focus had been the article and proving her writing skills, but reality hit her like chilly wind. Sitting next to her ex-husband as he planned his wedding with his future wife clogged her throat.
Chantelle adjusted in her seat. It only reminded her of the vows she had exchanged with Lance. They had stood before the justice of the peace.
Lance had held her hands in his. His eyes had danced with joy as he slid her engagement ring back on her ring finger. Chantelle had grinned and used Lance’s class ring to place on his left hand.
“By the power invested in me by the state of Texas, I pronounce you husband and wife.” The justice of the peace gestured at Lance. “You may kiss your bride.”
Lance’s smile had grown wider. He leaned in and kissed Chantelle. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Pressing her mouth against his, she looked forward to their future.
When he drew back, he shook the justice’s hand. He then laced his fingers with Chantelle and they dashed to his car. He started the engine and played their song, “Young Love” by Chris Brown.
Chantelle shut her eyes for a moment. No. This couldn’t be happening. Opening her eyes, her lips parted. She was falling for Lance again.
Touching her throat, she released a deep breath. She would finish the job. There was no need to tell her boss. Chantelle would write this story without a hitch. She wouldn’t tell Lance either. They had their chance, and it didn’t work. They both had their lives to live.
“What do you think?” Lance asked.
Sensing his gaze on her, Chantelle asked, “What?”
“I’m not too keen on an ice sculpture,” he said.
“I can assure you it won’t be a problem.” Adelaide pointed out.
“Chantelle?” Lance repeated.
“I think…” She bit her bottom lip. “You should go for it.”
He sighed. “Are you sure? Andrea’s not here, so your opinion is what I’m working with right now.”
Chantelle smiled. “I’m sure.”
Lance faced Adelaide. “I like this theme. You’re hired. Ask me or call the bride for questions. My mother’s opinions won’t count.”
“As you wish, Mr. Taylor.” Adelaide agreed, extending her fair-skinned petite hand.
Lance shook it. “I look forward to working with you.” He stood to his feet and faced Chantelle once more. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.” Grabbing her purse, she shook Adelaide’s hand too, and then proceeded ahead of Lance out the door. Once in the hallway, she slowed her steps. She pivoted to face him.
“Hungry?” Lance asked. He gazed at his cell as if he were reading a message.
“I—”
“Oh, Mr. Taylor!” Adelaide called out. Though in her stilettos, she caught up to them in the hallway. “I forgot to mention that we will hold the ballroom lessons—”
“Ballroom lessons?” Lance’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, your mother wanted to make sure—”
“I already mentioned that if you had questions to talk to me or my fiancé.” He reminded her. His hands fidgeted as he returned his phone to his jacket pocket.
Adelaide gave a faint smile. “At the request of your fiancé.”
“It was?” He asked.
“Yes, and your mother confirmed the appointment for this weekend.”
Lance rubbed the back of his head. His mouth twisted, but he answered. “Okay, thank you.”
Adelaide nodded and strutted back down the hall to her office. Once Chantelle and Lance were alone, she watched as he leaned against the wall. His grimace showed with a slight shake of his head.
“Lance?” Chantelle said, inching closer.
“You know I’m not great at dancing,” he said.
She touched his arm for a moment, but then brought her hand down. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure you can do a simple waltz.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Are you forgetting our prom? I soaked your dress, bumping us into the punch bowl.”
She giggled, recalling the balloon archway they had walked through that starry night. Tulle draped everywhere as stringed lights glittered in the room. Spotlights changed colors on the dance floor, and tables carried drinks and refreshments.
How the music had swelled and diminished as the doors would open and closed. Cologne and perfume had saturated the room while the DJ’s amplified voice had filled the background. Chantelle bit her bottom lip to hide her grin. She failed, noticing Lance pulling at his collar.
He replied. “Not funny. Do you know how embarrassed I was?”
“I didn’t mind. I was with you.” Did that slip out? Her eyes widened slightly, but she waited for his response.
His expression softened, making her heart melt. “I know you didn’t. For a moment I didn’t hear the other kids laughing. All I saw was you.”
How she wanted to move closer to him but restrained herself.
Lance cleared his throat. “Anyway, I don’t know if I can do that. Not in front of friends and family.”
“What if I go with you?” Chantelle bit the inside of her cheek the moment the words escaped her mouth.
“You’d do that?”
She bobbed her head since she couldn’t back out now. “Sure, for moral support. Plus, I can include it in the article.”
He held up a finger. “No pictures. You can talk about it in terms of me preparing, but no pictures.”
“I would never do that to you.” She shoved at his shoulder.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Or wouldn’t you?”
She inched closer. “Trust me, Mr. Taylor?”
“We’ll see, Ms. Woods.” A grin expanded on his lips.
Chapter 19
Bouncing on her tiptoes, Chantelle walked through the doors of Delta Heights Press. She heard keys clicking, the rustle of newspapers, and printers printing. Desks with computers, phones, pads of paper, pens and office supplies, and stacks of papers and files surrounded the space. Walking down the narrow hall she knew so well as a teen, she made her way to Mr. Perkins’ office. She never missed an opportunity to visit him when she passed through Delta Heights.
The summer before her last year in high school, she recalled working as an intern at his newspaper. She’d plastered sticky notes to her computer, wanting to keep up with her notes. She would swivel her chair to talk with fellow interns and coworkers. Lance would visit and take her out to lunch. Sometimes they would see a late movie before visiting their spot on the abandoned country road.
Her eyebrows gathered in as she continued to Mr. Perkins’ office. It was there that her dream of being a writer manifested. He gave her a chance when she was in high school, aspiring for others to read her words. Mr. Perkins made her believe in herself. Taking the plunge in college, she received her degree in English—all thanks to Mr. Perkins.
It didn’t hurt either that he was her father’s best friend. She saw him as another father-figure in her life. He was the one she came to when her mother announced her plans to remarry. His advice stuck with her.
Knocking on his thick wooden door, she pivoted to face the fellow writers at their desks. His receptionist must have been on break since her desk was vacant. Once the door opened, Chantelle beamed at the older white man with thick eyebrows and amber eyes.
“Chantelle Woods,” he said. His husky frame embraced her as he always did. He escorted her inside his office. “What do I owe the pleasure? You’re visiting your family again?”
“Yes, I’m staying with my mother.” Chantelle settled into the leather office chair. Mr. Perkins sat on the other side of his wooden desk. “How have you been?”
“Still working things around here. How long will you be in town this time?”
“Until I finish my work.” She folded her hands
in her lap. “I wanted to look around.”
“It hasn’t changed since the last time you were here.”
She touched a hand to her chest, playing with her necklace. “I know, but I love this place.”
Mr. Perkins leaned back in his rolling office chair. “How are things back in the city?”
“Chicago is fine, but it’s great to be home.”
“And… your job at The Wedding Report?” He leaned over and rested his elbows on the desk.
“Great,” she said.
“I said nothing before, but I heard about what happened at your last job.”
Chantelle relaxed in her chair and crossed her legs. That was the downside of social media. There was no hiding from the public. Hiding under a rock was the best way to stay unnoticed. “I only told my family the details. I hope that didn’t spread through town like wildfire.”
“I only know because Sadie follows you online. She saw your name mentioned in a story about it,” he said.
Chantelle had been grateful for the friendship she had with his daughter. “She reached out to me so I appreciate her. I hope...” She looked down at her lap, but then lifted her chin. “I hope I didn’t embarrass the town too much.”
Seemed as if Chantelle was always embarrassing the town. Her teen pregnancy. Eloping with Lance. The miscarriage. Their divorce.
Mr. Perkins cocked his head to the side. “Delta Heights knows you. I didn’t believe a word those trolls said online. Half of them wouldn’t dare say it to your face, anyway.”
Chantelle’s heart felt full. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”
“You have a good heart and you’re a talented writer. You know what I’m going to ask you, right?” He raised his eyebrows.
Chantelle held back her smile. “You ask me every time I come here.”
“It’s a great idea. I can’t think of a better person.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. P.” Move back to Delta Heights and run the newspaper. Chantelle had worked too hard for her life in Chicago. How could she give that up?
“You won’t know unless you come back. I’m retiring soon and I need someone I can trust. You have the heart of a writer, but you’re a leader too. You can take Delta Heights Press to a new level.”
Chantelle laughed. “That would be something.” Running her own newspaper? That would be a dream come true. “I’ll think about it. Will that work?”
He pointed to her. “You could do it.”
“I see why my father was friends with you.”
“He was… the best friend I ever had.” His gaze turned serious. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m always here for you.”
She met his stare and caught his wink at her. “Thank you.”
***
Balls dropped and rolled on the wooden floor of Delta’s Bowling Alley. Chantelle laced her shoes. Music blared through the loudspeakers while she listened to friendly trash talk between friends bowling together. She hadn’t been too keen on hanging out with Elise and her friends, but to keep her mind off Lance, she agreed to a girls’ night out with her sister-in-law.
Dimmed and neon lights for the glowing balls caught her eyes. Electronic score boards hung from the ceiling, while Elise sat at the machine entering their names for the upcoming game. Chantelle’s stomach growled as she stood to her feet, so she would visit the concession stand soon.
“Okay, I have Chantelle and me against Cheryl and Krista.” Elise announced.
“I’m not competitive,” Krista said with a wink of her eye. She pulled back her jet black curls into a ponytail.
“I am.” Cheryl’s eyes scanned the group. “No offense. I play to win, but I have good sportsmanship.”
Chantelle giggled, walking over to choose her bowling ball. She spotted a few bowling teams in matching shirts high-fiving each other. Her dad had been on one of those same teams when he was alive. He loved the game and taught it to Chantelle. She wouldn’t disclose that to Elise’s friends, but she was sure that was why her sister-in-law picked her for her own team.
Sauntering back over to their lane, Chantelle fastened her grip on her neon pink bowling ball. “Are we ready?”
“You’re up,” Elise said. She bit her bottom lip as if to hide her grin.
Chantelle inched up to the lane with her eyes lowering to the floor. Recalling the techniques her father taught her, she released her ball and watched it glide down the lane. Tilting her head to the side with her hands on her hips, she watched the perfect strike unfold as all the pins fell over. Moseying back to her seat, she caught Krista and Cheryl staring at her performance.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Cheryl said.
“You knew about this, didn’t you, Elise?” Krista asked, pointing at her.
“I’ll neither confirm nor deny that.” Elise waggled her arched eyebrows. Chantelle sat next to her as Cheryl took her turn. Her sister-in-law nudged her shoulder. “Feeling okay?”
Rubbing her hands against her pant legs, she bobbed her head. “I am. Thanks for inviting me.” Leaning over to watch Krista, Chantelle added, “I don’t think your friends will like me after tonight.”
Elise dismissed her comment with a wave of her hand. “They mean no harm. Krista is happy to be around adults being a stay-at-home-mom, and Cheryl needed a break from studying.”
“Grad school?”
“Family counseling.”
“Cool.” Chantelle’s shoulders drooped for a moment.
“Are you sure everything’s alright?”
“Yeah, I’m making progress with my story.”
“How’s Lance?”
“Cooperative.” Chantelle giggled.
“I’m glad you two are getting along.” Elise sighed and stared ahead.
“How are you? Everything okay with you and my brother?”
“I think so. We’ve been talking about kids.”
Chantelle beamed despite the dull ache in her heart. “I’m going to be an auntie?”
“Not yet. Well… I don’t know for sure. I have an appointment next week. I hope Grant will be happy.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Chantelle asked.
“He wants children, but I think the reality of it makes him nervous. I think he’ll be great. I’m the one who should be nervous.”
“You’ll make wonderful parents.”
Elise eyeballed her. “What about you? I thought for sure a man would visit you from Chicago. Or is something brewing with… Javier?”
“I forgot this town was small.” Chantelle shook her head. “It’s only been twice since we’ve hung out. We’ve been talking on the phone, and we’re getting to know each other.”
“And?” Elise practically sat on the edge of her seat.
“I don’t know. Can we take things slow?” Chantelle scratched at her head.
“You can take it slow. Only make sure you know what you want,” Elise said, her expression soft.
“Come on Elise, you’re holding up the game.” Cheryl joked.
“Don’t rush me,” she said, rising to her feet.
Chantelle folded her hands in her lap. When did things get complicated? She was here for a job, and now old feelings for Lance were creeping inside. Then her cell rang. She reached inside her cross body purse to see who was calling. Javier.
Signaling Elise, Chantelle stepped outside to clear away the noise. “Hi.”
“I know you’re having a girls’ night, but I wanted to hear your voice,” Javier said.
He was too sweet. Chantelle’s chest expanded. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
“Are you having fun?”
“I am. Haven’t bowled in a while, but I’m getting back in the habit.”
“Bowling.” He sounded intrigued. “I see. Think you’ll win?”
“Why? You want to know if I’m competition for you?”
He chuckled. “We’ll find out later.” She heard a dog bark. “Better take him out for a walk.”
“Thanks for calling. I’ll talk to
you later.”
“You bet. Have fun.”
Hanging up, Chantelle pressed her cell to her chest. She waited again for the spark between them. She liked Javier, but was it more than friendship? She sighed, but her cell rang once more. Did he call back by accident? Facing her screen, it wasn’t Javier. It was her boss. Chantelle answered to get the conversation over with.
“I’m liking the notes you’ve sent so far,” Brenda said. “Even the pictures are helping. Lance looks like the perfect groom.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She brushed her hair behind her ears as the wind picked up.
“Anything else I should know about?”
“Like what?” Chantelle asked.
“Chantelle, I told you we need an angle with this story.”
“I know but we’re not a gossip magazine.”
“True, but we report truth to our readers. All I’m asking is for a little more edge. Is he speaking to Andrea at all? She’s not in the photos you sent me.”
“She’s working.”
“Okay, so expound on that. Why would she be working so close to the wedding? How does Lance feel about this? Does he support her?” Brenda coaxed.
“I’ll do what I can, but I’m not exploiting this wedding.”
“I’m not expecting you to. Just give me a little more.” Brenda hung up and Chantelle stuffed her phone inside her pocket. More edge. Find out more about Andrea.
What was keeping her away? Lance didn’t hint at anything personal. Why would he?
***
Chantelle stared inside her mother’s refrigerator. It held more stacks of meat. Her mother had even more in the refrigerator in the garage. Hamburgers, chicken wings, and hot dogs were on the menu for the town’s summer kickoff. The last time Chantelle attended one, there had been macaroni salad, fruit salad, lasagnas and other casseroles, coleslaw, watermelon slices and chips. She could smell the boiling corn now, along with the blooming flowers from nearby.
“That’s a lot of meat,” Chantelle said, bobbing her head.
“About to start up the grill outside.” Douglas rubbed his palms together.
Her mother grabbed her apron. She looked over at her daughter. “Want to help?”
