My First My Last My Only

by Denise Carbo

  My belly quivers and I haltingly walk over to the chair and perch on the edge clutching the sides. I rest most of my weight on my thighs and toes wishing I had started an exercise routine centered around squats and plies. Partly lifting the chair, I manage to scoot forward when he pushes the back of the chair.

  Calamity averted.

  He starts us off with a salad. I take a hesitant sip of the wine and to my delight I don’t hate it. It’s cool and smooth with a hint of citrus.

  As we progress to the main meal, manicotti, I try to think of a way to broach the subject of buying the building from him.

  My glass is half empty and a pleasant warmth tingles through me. Perhaps I should have started drinking wine years ago.

  “Have you thought about the director’s job you were offered?”

  He frowns slightly and shrugs. “Not really, and I guess that’s my answer. I want to be passionate over a project before I agree to take it on.”

  “Is that how you decide?”

  “It is now. Back when I was acting, I was just happy to get the offers, so I agreed to most of them.”

  “Do you miss it? The acting?”

  “Not one bit.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for the acting. It gave me opportunities I never would have had, but I was never that great at it. It was just a job they paid me an exorbitant amount of money for.”

  “How can you say you weren’t great at it? You were so successful.”

  “I was successful because I lucked out and had people looking out for me. I was decent enough, but as a director, I wouldn’t hire me.”

  He laughs when he looks at me. “The look on your face. Why is that so shocking?”

  “I don’t know. I guess you really surprised me with your answer. Maybe it’s because I assumed acting was what you wanted to do.”

  “I enjoyed making movies. I didn’t like everything that goes along with that. The public attention and scrutiny were not things I coveted or enjoyed. Acting opened the doors for me to do what I really enjoy doing, directing.”

  “I think you’re selling yourself a little short on the acting, but I can understand not wanting to be in the spotlight.”

  The plastic folding chair is surprisingly comfortable, so I cross my legs and lean against the back taking another sip of wine.

  Mitch glances over at the box he carried the food in. “I bought a dessert from the B&B too, but I doubt it compares to any of yours.”

  “Oh, what is it?”

  “Some kind of chocolate cake.”

  “It never hurts to sample the competition.”

  He gets up to retrieve the cake and I can’t help ogling the view he presents. He certainly has a way of filling out his trousers. My fingers itch to squeeze his cheeks. And I don’t mean the ones on his handsome face.

  The cake is nice enough, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, but I’m not all that worried that my business will suffer from the competition. The meal was great though.

  I nibble on my lip as he clears the table. Dinner is over and I still haven’t garnered enough courage to talk about buying the building from him.

  After helping Mitch pack everything up, we stroll into the kitchen where he spreads the plans out on the counter and shows me his and the architect’s vision.

  It will be a magnificent kitchen.

  “Do you cook? I mean this kitchen will be amazing. It would be a shame if you didn’t cook. Not that it means you shouldn’t have a great kitchen whether you do or don’t. I mean you might have a wife someday who cooks.”

  Or bakes.

  “I cook a bit.”

  “Oh, good, that’s good.”

  I study the plans and wait for the blush on my cheeks to go away.

  “I love how this entire wall will be windows to take in the view. One of my favorite spots in the bakery is the counter under the back window in the kitchen so I can watch the sunrise while I’m baking.”

  I wander over towards the windows. “If you lengthened the island and deepened it a bit, you could have stools on the backside for informal eating. And that area over here would make a perfect little nook to have a circular bench breakfast area. If windows were added it would be spectacular. And you might consider adding another oven and a warming drawer if you plan on entertaining. Adding a counter area with a prep sink over here could be helpful when preparing multiple courses or having more than one person in the kitchen.”

  I spin around to stride over to the area planned for the refrigerator but bump smack into Mitch. “Oh.”

  He grasps my upper arms to steady me.

  “Too much?”

  “No, I like your ideas and your enthusiasm. It’s cute how your face gets so animated and you whirl and flitter around like a butterfly.”

  “Oh, well, um, thanks, I think.” I have no idea where to put my hands. They are sort of hanging there in mid-air between us, so I rest them against his chest with a slight pat. Geez, like I’m patting the head of a dog or something.

  I take several steps back and grasp my hands behind my back. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Okay, what’s so dire? You’ve got the same look on your face as you did when we were kids and you confessed you lost that swiss army knife I found on the bank of the stream.”

  Wincing, I tug on my earlobe. I didn’t lose it. I hid it. I was afraid he would cut himself or something.

  Maybe now wasn’t the time for that confession.

  I inhale deeply and let the air out in a rush.

  “I had planned on buying my bakery building. I had been talking to Mr. Brick about it, but then he sold it to you instead.”

  He jerks his head back and then slowly shakes it side to side. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Franny. No wonder you were so surprised that day on the bench.”

  Shrugging, I fold my arms around my waist. “Plans change. Although I had really been looking to getting out of my parent’s house.”

  “You were going to live here in the apartment?”

  “Yup.”

  “I screwed up your plans, didn’t I?”

  Meeting his gaze, I smile. “Changed them for sure, but I’m not holding it against you. Anymore anyway.”

  Mitch takes my hands from my waist and holds them in his. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. I promise.”

  “There’s nothing to make up, you didn’t know.”

  “Still, I feel awful about it.” His thumbs rub the backs of my hands.

  How awful? Awful enough to sell it to me?

  Here goes nothing.

  Gulping a breath of air, I gaze into his eyes.

  “Any chance you’ll consider selling the building to me? I’ll give you a fair price.”

  Mitch squeezes my hands. “Of course, I will.”

  I throw my arms around his neck. “Thank you! Thank you!”

  He wraps his arms around my back and laughs.

  “You have no idea how much this means. I’ve been looking at other properties and hating every single one. I was growing resigned to continue renting and trying to find a cheap enough place to buy for me to live in, but that fell through too.”

  Mitch pulls back to look at me. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  I drop my arms and step back from him.

  “Fear. Procrastination. Mostly fear.”

  “Fear of what? Me?”

  “Not exactly. Fear of the situation as a whole. I had pinned all my plans on buying the building and when they fell through I kind of spiraled for a bit.”

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything right off the bat. Why not tell me that day on the bench?”

  “Shock. And it’s not like we’ve kept in touch over the years.”

  “What does that mean? Did you think I bought the building knowing you had an arrangement to buy it?”

  I open my mouth to refuse, but the truth of my suspicions nags at me and I snap it closed.
/>
  “Shit! Really, Franny?”

  “I admit the thought crossed my mind briefly, but I discarded the idea.”

  Mitch shakes his head and leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest.

  “I can’t believe you thought I would do that to you on purpose.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He frowns. “No, I get it. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  Twisting my hands in front of me, I scrunch my nose. “So, we’re good?”

  Mitch gives me a half smile. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  Phew.

  “Um, Mitch?”

  He looks at me with one eyebrow raised.

  “Please don’t be offended, but could we have a sales agreement put in writing? See, I didn’t do that with Mr. Brick, and well, you see how that worked out.”

  “I’ll have my lawyer draw papers up tomorrow, okay?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Any other terms I should have him include? Does the end of summer work for you?”

  Two more months living with my parents? Not ideal but finding another place could easily have taken longer.

  “Yes, I really appreciate this. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Bake me something and we’ll call it even.”

  Laughter tickles my throat. “I had no idea you were so easy.”

  Mitch winks.

  “Any other ideas for designing the kitchen?”

  “Can I think about it for a few days?”

  “Yeah, I have a meeting with the architect at the end of the week.”

  I give him a quick salute. “Got it.”

  “Do you want another glass of wine?”

  “I better get home. I have to get up early to be at the bakery.” And I hadn’t forgotten my sister’s arrival.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “They look beautiful together, don’t they?” My mother hovers over my right shoulder while I stand at the kitchen sink looking out the window.

  An ache radiates across my chest and I press the heel of my hand against it to relieve the pressure.

  Mitch and Lucinda stand together on the back patio of my parents’ house. The sun makes a halo of light around their bent heads.

  Yes, they’re two extraordinarily good-looking people.

  What is he doing here?

  “Like a painting. They would make such gorgeous children together.” She plucks a drooping leaf from the plant on the windowsill and stuffs it down the garbage disposal.

  I give her a sideways glance. “I’m not sure Mark would agree with you, Mother.”

  “If you had been home last night for your sister’s arrival you would have heard that she left him.”

  Inhaling sharply, I grip the edge of the granite counter. Her bedroom door had been closed when I got home last night so I had retreated into my room.

  I should have knocked on her door.

  Instead, I jumped on the excuse to revel privately that the building would soon be mine and my original plan was back on track.

  Selfishly, I was making plans for moving out while Lucinda is having her life turned upside down.

  Mother taps her manicured nails on the counter. “For the best really. I never cared for him.”

  Really? Since when? You couldn’t have been more thrilled to show him off to all your friends when they started dating and you threw them a lavish engagement party and wedding to which you invited hundreds of your closest friends. I can remember many conversations on Mark and his wonderful background and prospects. Now she claims she never cared for him?

  I wince when their shared laughter reaches my ears. I’m transfixed by the sight of the two of them together even as the pain lashes my insides. It’s like people who stare at a car accident and can’t look away. I’ve never understood it before. Now I do.

  “I can imagine the headlines now: Celebrity Finds Hidden Gem in Small Town and Falls in Love.”

  “You don’t think you’re getting ahead of yourself a little? If she just separated from Mark, I doubt she’s ready to dive into a new relationship.”

  “Nonsense. That’s exactly what she needs. Besides, the chemistry between the two of them is electric. When Lucinda opened the front door this morning and Mitch was standing there, I instantly knew her pending divorce was perfect timing. You’ll see, it’s undeniable.”

  Mitch must have stopped by to see me, not Lucinda. They didn’t know each other. I always made sure of that.

  The one time Mitch and I ran into Lucinda and her friends during one of our many teenage escapades was when we were getting ice cream at Billings creamery. I had been rambling on to Mitch about my latest epic dream to buy a sailboat and sail around the world. While describing all the exotic countries I intended to visit, I looked down to see Mitch’s ice cream was becoming a melted puddle on the ground. About to tease him for wasting his ice cream, I finally noticed what had captured his rapt attention.

  My sister reclined on one of the picnic benches surrounded by a group of boys coveting her attention. Itty bitty white shorts topped her long, tan legs. A baby blue halter top allowed her flat, tanned midriff to show. I was sure she chose it to accentuate her blue eyes and of course, her generous cup size. I flounced away without a word, tossing my unfinished cone in the garbage can. Mitch caught up a block away as I morosely meandered along the sidewalk. I brushed him off with a tale of a stomachache and avoided any chance encounters with my sister during my precious time with Mitch.

  Maybe it was fate.

  I interrupted the start of their fairy tale love story by keeping them apart all those years ago and now whatever cosmic entity which rules our destinies has thrown them back together.

  I play with the tiny gold cross on my necklace.

  Should I go out on the patio?

  “I spoke to your friend Vanessa. She’s looking to hire a new realtor because her business is doing so well.”

  “She’s not my friend Mother, nor has she ever been.”

  “Don’t be melodramatic Francine. The two of you grew up together, went to the same school.” She waves her hand, the diamonds in her rings reflecting light bounce around the room. “Regardless, I did a little research and you can take classes at the community college and take a test to get your realtor’s license.”

  “You want to be a real estate agent? That’s great Mother.”

  “Don’t be obtuse! Not me, you.”

  There is no doubt how little she thinks of my chosen career path.

  Swallowing, my gaze bounces off the pair on the patio and out to the lake. I should have gone straight to my kayak once I got home, but instead I lingered to visit with my sister since I bailed last night. A white sail unfurls and fills from the wind and the sailboat skims across the top of the water in front of the house.

  “I have a job.”

  “You need a career. Something that will provide for your future. Something you can build upon. You don’t seriously intend to live with your father and I the rest of your days, do you?”

  Bitterness fills my mouth.

  I wrap my arms around my waist and grip the bony knot of my elbows in my hands. I shift to walk away but stop.

  How can she not understand how important my bakery is to me? How can she carelessly discard the hours I devote to making it succeed?

  “My bakery is my career. I work very hard to ensure I will have a future there. Why can’t you see that? Why do you act like me owning a bakery is an embarrassment to you? Do you not care how that hurts me?”

  Huffing out a harsh breath, she stands impossibly straighter. “Always the dramatics! I try to help you and instead of being thankful I’m looking out for you; you whine and attack me with accusations. You’re ungrateful and selfish. You expect your father and I to support your whims. When are you going to grow up and be like your sister?”

  “I’m not Lucinda and I never will be.”

  Shaking her head, she whirls away and leaves the kitchen to join Mitch and Lucinda on the patio.


  I shove through the door and head for the stairs. If I were wearing shoes, I would have run out the front door.

  After working at the bakery all day one of the first things I like to do is take my shoes off and wiggle my toes in the thick carpet by my bed. Of course, Mother has trained me well, so my shoes are in my closet upstairs not left by the front door.

  Tears are pressing at my eyes and I’m shaking. Why did I think confronting her would solve anything?

  Before I touch the banister, my father walks in the front door.

  “Hi sweetheart.” He moves forward to kiss me on the cheek. “What’s this emergency your mother left me a message about? She told me I needed to come home right away. I’m never sure if I’ll find the house on fire or simply a change in dinner plans.”

  “The later I think.”

  “Ah, so what’s new with you? You’ve been scarce lately.”

  “Just work.”

  My mother’s voice trails out of the living room. I fervently hope she’s alone, but the soft murmur of Mitch’s voice follows before the trio appears in my line of vision.

  “Oh good, Grant, you’re home. Look who has decided to join us for dinner. I’ve already made arrangements at the Country Club for the four of us.”

  My father glances at me.

  “Francine has plans.”

  I stare at my mother for a moment. I don’t have plans but it’s clear she doesn’t want me messing up the dinner dynamic or her matchmaking efforts between Mitch and Lucinda. That’s fine, I certainly don’t care to witness it.

  “Enjoy.” I kiss my father on the cheek and smile towards the group without meeting anyone’s gaze and then I jog up the stairs to my room.

  Plopping down on my bed, I’m not sure whether to scream or cry. Both, maybe.

  I listen while the front door opens and closes, and the car starts and drives away. A plop of moisture splashes on my hand.

  I guess crying wins.

  ****

  A sleepless night spent tossing and turning resulted in a nightmare about being a bridesmaid at Mitch and Lucinda’s wedding. I hit the snooze button on my alarm four times this morning.