by Daria White
Chantelle walked over to the sink and washed her hands. “I can season the meat.”
“Bring them out when they’re ready.” Douglas kissed her mother’s cheek and then proceeded to the backyard.
Chantelle watched her mother stare after her husband. Then she returned to her station in front of the island and unpacked the package of hamburger meat. Seasoned salt, garlic powder, and onion powder were her spices of choice. Inching closer to her mother, Chantelle rested her elbows on the island, leaning on the butcher block countertop.
“Everything okay?” Her mother asked.
“A lot on my mind.” She straightened and sprinkled seasoning salt on the hamburger meat.
“How’s the article coming?”
Chantelle stared at the floor. “It’s coming.”
“Something wrong?”
Chantelle’s hands paused. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me. You know that, sweetie.”
She looked over at her mother. Chantelle knew she could talk to her. Even when she had to tell her she was pregnant at eighteen, she’d been brave and told the truth. Her mother’s face had dropped, but she had held her daughter close.
“I don’t know what to do,” Chantelle said. Tension released from her body.
“About what? Working with Lance?” Her mother’s thin eyebrows rose. “I could have told you that.”
Was it that obvious? “How so?”
“The history you two share? Give me a little credit, sweetie. He bolted out of here when he saw you. I can only imagine his attitude since you’ve been working together.”
Chantelle’s mouth twisted into a grin. “You’re not wrong about that. We’ve gotten better despite our... history.”
“Are you ready to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “My job is what’s most important right now. But...” She wiped her hands with a dishtowel. “My boss wants the story to have more edge.”
“It’s a wedding. What’s so edgy about that?” Her mother sprinkled the hamburger meat with onion powder and kneaded it to mix the spices as one would knead dough.
Chantelle explained. “Lance is pretty much a celebrity. While there are those that love a happy ending, my boss wants me to make the story realistic. I think she wants me to let our audience in on some of Lance’s secrets. Like if there’s trouble with him and Andrea.”
Her mother replied. “I don’t think Lance has anything to hide. He is a private person, so I can understand if he doesn’t want all of his business in your article. You respect that, no matter what your boss says.”
“But I can’t stop thinking that revealing more would have to include... me.”
Her mother stared at her. “This article is about him and Andrea. You and Lance were a long time ago.”
“Times are different, Mom. People can find anything nowadays and ruin somebody on social media.” She sighed. “Perhaps I should have passed on the story. I—”
Her mother stopped her. “They picked you and that’s final. I think to a certain degree Lance may be more comfortable with you since you know each other.”
Chantelle leaned against the counter. “I’m only starting to regain his trust.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “It looks like his fiancé wants to waltz at their wedding, so he’s taking lessons.”
Her mother chuckled. “Poor Lance. I remember your stained prom dress that night. How did you two bump into the punch bowl?”
Chantelle giggled along with her mother. “I guess we were having fun.”
“You always brought out the best in one another.” Her mother moved to the sink to clean her hands.
Chantelle’s feet shuffled on the hardwood floors. “It’s worse, Mom.” Her voice choked.
Her mother faced her. “What are you talking about?”
Despite biting her lip, the tears brimmed in her eyes. Without another word, her mother embraced her. Chantelle rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, while her mother patted her back.
“Tell me, sweetie.”
Breaking the embrace, Chantelle wiped her eyes. “I think I’m falling for him again.”
“Oh Chantelle.” Her mother tilted her head to the side. “Are you sure?”
She bobbed her head. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together. I thought I could keep it professional, but when I went to the bar and grill with Javier, Lance was there with Grant and two other guys. I wanted to enjoy the evening out, but being with Javier only made me think about Lance.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “I’ve been saying it’s nothing, but I’m thinking it is.”
“What are you going to do? Tell him so close to his wedding?” Her mother asked.
Chantelle waved the comment away. “I can’t do that. It’s not fair to him or his fiancé. I’m hoping this will go away once I leave. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“So you’ll ignore what’s in your heart?” She folded her arms.
Chantelle sighed. “I can’t fall in love with him.”
“You’ve always been in love with him. You sneaking away to marry the boy proved that to me and your father. You were too young then, but you’re not a kid anymore. I think you know your own mind now. Lance does too.”
Looking away, Chantelle mulled over her mother’s words. There was a time when she loved Lance with every breath in her body. They would laugh and talk nonstop for hours on the phone. Silly grins would dance on their faces whenever they parted ways. He would even put his arm around her shoulder when they sat next to each other at the movies. What stole the show? His kisses. They weakened her knees every time.
Chantelle pulled her lips in. Despite the fiasco at prom, Lance made it worthwhile. He walked her to the door like the gentleman his father had raised him to be. Their fingers intertwined as they paced the concrete walkway.
“Have fun?” He had asked. “Besides the… you know?”
She had giggled. “I did. It was fun.”
He shook his head. “I still can’t believe I did that.”
She paused her steps and took his other hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
He raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Why’s that?”
Parting her lips, her heart poured out to him. “I love you.”
Lance’s face had slackened.
Chantelle squeezed her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She rolled her shoulders back. She needed to get inside before she further embarrassed herself. “Thank you for a fun night.” She pivoted to the door, but Lance kept her hand in his, bringing her back to him.
“Don’t be sorry, you caught me off guard.” His eyes softened. “I love you too.”
She beamed. “It’s not too soon?”
He kissed her, silencing all her doubts and fears. Drawing back, he whispered against her lips. “I don’t want the night to end.”
She had cupped his face. “Me neither.”
Lance had looked back at his car. Then stared into her eyes once more. “Come with me.”
“You know your father and I wouldn’t have let it happen, right?” Her mother said.
Tucking in her upper lip, Chantelle’s mind returned to the present. “I know, Mom.”
“I wanted to believe the Taylors meant well, suggesting adoption for the baby, but…” Chantelle’s mother shook her head. “I couldn’t live with myself, and I knew you’d resent us deciding for the both of you. Even if I had to raise the child as my own, it didn’t feel right giving it away.” She faced her daughter. “If you don’t think you should—”
“I can do it, Mom. I’ll be fine.”
Douglas entered through the back door. “Got some meat ready for me?”
Chantelle took her escape after acknowledging her stepfather with a simple nod.
Chapter 20
Lance stared at the gold nameplate on his father’s desk. The bookshelf behind it carried books that his father had collected over the years. The clock ticked on the wall, and a potted cactus sat in the cor
ner.
Shifting in his chair, he heard the creak. Then his eyes scanned the wall, staring again at the picture of his younger sister holding her first a medal as a swimmer. A twinge of pain increased inside his chest.
“Want to bet I make it to the Olympics?” Amelia had beamed. Water glistened from her eyelashes.
Lance had bobbed his head. “I think you can do it.”
She then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Love you big brother.”
He peeled her arms away from him, but didn’t hesitate to kiss the top of her head. “No more mushy stuff. I’m a man.”
“Not yet. You don’t even have a car yet,” she had teased.
Rubbing his palms together, Lance expected his father’s response to the report he emailed him the night before. His swallowing increased as he chewed on his bottom lip.
“I see you got here before I did,” his father said.
Lance didn’t even bother to stand, but sat back in his chair, bracing himself. “You wanted to see me, so I showed up.”
His father sat in his rolling chair. His charcoal suit looked pressed as he never entered the office looking less than his best. “I’ll ignore that.” He then picked up a manila folder on his desk. “I had my new assistant Louise print this out.”
“What did you think?”
“You want to cut into twenty percent of our profits.” His father’s eyes scanned the paperwork.
“It’ll save a few jobs.”
His father sighed. “This is a business, not a charity. We’re looking to maximize this deal.”
Lance leaned forward. “You told me to go to New York and make the best deal possible.” He pointed to the folder. “I did the numbers again. This is the best deal. I know we’re used to profit and losses, but this is about people.”
His father’s expression turned pinched. “Didn’t I teach you to separate business from personal? You’ve gone soft since volunteering at that community center.”
Lance’s stomach burned. “Maybe I grew a heart.”
“You’re letting it interfere with your job.”
“So you don’t want me to do the right thing? Even if it involves helping people avoid the unemployment line.”
His father dropped the papers on his desk. “Why don’t you tell me what the real problem is?”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Why? It would only get personal and we know you don’t want that. You’re all business, aren’t you?”
His father’s eyes widened. “I’ve done nothing but work to provide for you and your mother.”
Lance shook his head. “You can’t even say her name, can you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is about your failure to do your job, and that is to make this deal as profitable as possible.”
“My failure?” Rising to his feet, he said, “You just made it personal.” He stepped away from his father’s desk and headed for the door. There was no reasoning with the man. He wanted things his way. Lance couldn’t stand the pressure of trying to live up to him and his ridiculous expectations.
Pivoting to face his father, Lance made eye contact with the man’s gray eyes. “Consider this my two weeks’ notice.”
His father jumped to his feet, forcing his rolling chair to jump backwards. “Are you insane? You have a chance at making partner.”
“You can have it.”
“Then why do it? Why put all this hard work in?”
Lance didn’t answer, but shut the door behind him, leaving his father in obvious disbelief.
Returning to his office, he packed his briefcase and left for the day. On the way home, he stopped by Jasper’s Diner, settling into a booth nestled against a window with a view of the street. A waitress stopped by with water and a laminated menu for him to peruse. He tapped his foot against the checkered tile floor. Stools creaked in the background, doors swung open to the blast of the cars outside, and the bell rang overhead as customers walked inside.
Lance inhaled fragrant coffee and bacon grease, so when his waitress returned, he ordered a BLT sandwich with French fries. He scrolled through the apps on his phone. Cutlery clinked on tables and scratched against plates.
He exhaled, feeling at peace with his decision. It wasn’t all about making money to live in the biggest house. Lance wanted an actual home, with people who loved him. Then his phone buzzed with a text.
2:45 PM... Andrea: Great news! I’ll be in town this weekend!
Lance smiled and messaged her back.
2:47 PM... Lance: Good cause I’m missing you
2:50 PM... Andrea: Too sweet! I love you! Xoxo
Lance sighed. He would have to tell her about quitting his job. Would she support him if he made a career change? They wouldn’t suffer financially. Between the both of them, they had enough to live on until he decided his next move.
2:53 PM... Lance: Call me when you have a minute
No sense in procrastinating. When he heard her ringtone, he answered.
“What’s up?” Andrea sounded worried. “Did something happen?”
“No, everything’s cool. At least it will be.”
“What does that mean?” She asked.
“I quit my dad’s firm.”
Silence.
“Babe?”
“Wow. Why?”
“I think I need a change. Besides, my dad and I are on two different planets when running a business.”
Silence again.
“Andrea? Honey?”
“Sorry, I was listening, but I’m reading an article that was posted by People magazine. I did another interview.”
Lance ignored the empty feeling in his stomach. When he needed her support the most, she wasn’t listening. He swallowed. “How did it go?”
“They can’t believe I’m getting married.” She groaned. “I’m sorry. You were talking, and I made this about me. What are you going to do?”
Lance smiled, appreciating her trying to do better. “I don’t know. We can talk more when you get here.”
“You sure? I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine. I’ll let you get back to work. Love you.”
“Love you.” She hung up.
Lance clutched his phone in his hand. What was he going to do? Perhaps the town’s summer kickoff would do the trick. It would be a great distraction for him to unwind. He sighed, cupping his forehead.
***
The bright sun warmed the rich earth, warming Lance’s skin. He exited his car after parking on the curved cul-de-sac. The summer kickoff had been a hit every year since he could remember, but he loved that Delta Heights turned it into a block party. He walked down the cement sidewalk, noticing balloons tied to mailboxes. They set barricades and cones up to stop traffic, while tables lined the streets holding casseroles and crock pots.
Then his eyes spotted a bouncy house and kids playing ball in the street. Scooters and bicycles passed by him as he made his way closer to the festival. Music played through a sound system while laughter and chatter filled the air.
The grilling of meat hissed and table cloths flapped in the breeze. Of all places, they held this town celebration in Chantelle’s neighborhood. He hadn’t talked to her since their trip to the wedding planner. It was best, and since she didn’t call, he took the needed space.
His knees felt weak, but he moved forward to find familiar faces, including hers. He needed to talk to Chantelle to get past the remaining attraction. Lance had to make it clear.
Then again, was it all in his head? Chantelle was seeing someone else. Perhaps it was his imagination. Chantelle could still care about him without it meaning anything, right? Was it that simple? The love of his life leaving town once she finished her job.
Lance’s eyes widened. Chantelle wasn’t the love of his life anymore. Not with another woman wearing the ring he proposed with. His stomach gnawed. Perhaps food would help.
“Glad you could make it,” Grant said with a grin.
He shook his friend’s hand. �
��Me too.”
“Your parents joining us later?”
“You know they prefer to stay to themselves.” His parents thought they were above such gatherings. Unless it was a black-tie event, the Taylors didn’t show for “mundane affairs” as his mother called it.
Grant shrugged. “Well, we’ve got plenty of food so come on and eat.”
Smoke from the grill filled Lance’s lungs as he served himself a plate. Sitting at one table, his stomach approved of the potato salad, boiled corn, and the smoked chicken. The wind teased his skin as he ate, and he appreciated the cool breeze. Then he saw… her.
Dressed in fitted jeans and a short-sleeved tank top, Chantelle made the simplest clothes look breathtaking. Hair in a high ponytail, she chatted with Elise. Lance didn’t know what the conversation was about, but the way her arms flung in the air, she was showing her passion with a smile on that gorgeous face of hers. Finishing his meal, he wiped his hands clean with a napkin, and tossed his trash in a nearby trash bin.
“Get enough?” Douglas asked.
Lance had to admit he liked her stepfather, especially after he watched the trauma of the Woods’ family losing Chantelle’s father. Lance was glad the family was doing better. Douglas seemed to be the right fit for them. “Yes sir, you outdid yourself on the meat.”
“Thank you, Lance.” He gestured at the foil pan in his hand, filled with more meat. “Not finished yet.” Douglas headed back to the grill.
Grant nodded. “I don’t know how he does it. Mom must have begged him to cook.”
“Some men can.”
His friend pointed at him. “I’m not one for the kitchen. I’ve told you that.”
Lance chuckled at his friend. At that moment, the women walked over, Elise and Chantelle.
“What’s so funny?” Elise asked. Grant brought her to sit in his lap and kissed her cheek.
“Nothing much. Grant can’t cook.” Lance replied.
“Tell us something we don’t know.” Chantelle folded her arms.
“What about our senior year cook-off?” Grant reminded them. “I cooked a mean shrimp pasta.”
“Too much salt.” Lance pointed out.
Elise hugged her husband’s neck. “Leave the cooking to me. Save us all the trouble, please?”
