by Cindi Myers
“Then I guess I’m crazy.” Angela started to turn away. She’d hoped Tanya, of all people, would understand the uncertainty and fear that battered her. After all, Tanya had suffered through the nasty breakup of her marriage. She had found the same healing in Crested Butte that Angela had.
Except Angela had discovered those old wounds hadn’t really healed. She’d only hidden them as part of her role as the strong, confident woman. When she’d opened her chocolate shop and joined the Mountain Theatre group, she’d congratulated herself on moving on and going after what she wanted in life.
“Angela, wait.” Tanya stopped her again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be unsympathetic. Whatever you decide to do, I’m here for you. But promise me one thing.”
“That depends on the thing.”
“Promise you’ll read for the role of Roxanne—for me. Audition, and if I’m wrong, then you can tell me.”
Angela hesitated, then nodded. “All right. I’ll audition.” She’d certainly had plenty of practice lately pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She’d played the role of the strong, confident woman to perfection, fooling everyone else, and fooling herself.
BRYAN PLANNED TO STAY out of Carl’s way Monday morning. The older man hadn’t been terribly pleased when Bryan had canceled their golf date, and Bryan didn’t want to start the week with Carl in a bad mood.
But the manager was waiting for him when Bryan walked into his office. “You missed a good golf game yesterday,” Carl said.
“You had great weather for it,” Bryan agreed. He’d vowed not to apologize for missing something he hadn’t wanted to be a part of in the first place.
“You’ll have to join us again sometime,” Carl said.
“Thanks, but golf isn’t really my game. But maybe we can go hiking sometime. I know some great trails.”
Carl’s eyes widened. “I don’t know about that. Hiking might be a little…strenuous.”
“It’s a great way to get in shape.” He carefully avoided looking at his boss’s slight paunch.
“Yes, yes. So I hear.” Carl frowned at him. “Is that a bruise on the side of your face?”
Bryan gingerly touched the tender, purpling area over his right cheekbone. He’d braked too hard on a switchback, tumbled over the handlebars on his bike, and landed face-first on a fist-size rock. “I fell,” he said simply. “It’ll fade in a day or two.”
“Right. About this doctor’s convention we have booked for next month—”
The intercom buzzed and Rachel’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Mr. Phelps? Could you come to the front desk for a moment, please?”
“What’s the trouble now?” Carl asked, shoving himself out of his chair. He headed for the front desk. Curious, Bryan followed.
A red-faced, middle-aged man and an attractive brunette who might have been his wife stood at the front counter. The woman looked relieved, the man annoyed, as Carl came forward to greet them. “I’m Carl Phelps, the manager,” he said with a smile. “How can I help you?”
“When we booked our rooms, we were told the rate would be one hundred and fifty-nine dollars a night,” the man said. “Now we’re being charged fifty dollars a night more. That is unacceptable.”
“Let me see here.” Carl studied the computer screen. “I see you’re in one of our suites,” he said. “How was your room?”
“Very nice,” the woman said.
“I’ve stayed in better,” the man grumbled.
Carl’s expression remained pleasant. “It looks as if you are being charged the correct rate for your suite. The lower rate you quoted is for a regular king room. Perhaps you were confused.”
“I’m not an idiot,” the man said. “I know what I was quoted. I was told the suite was one-fifty-nine a night.”
Carl looked sympathetic. “I’m terribly sorry, but you are being charged the correct rate.”
“Of all the—” the man began.
“You’re the manager,” the woman interrupted. “Can’t you make some kind of adjustment?”
“That would be against corporate policy.”
“What kind of stupid policy is that?” the man demanded.
Bryan agreed with the man. He stepped forward and touched Carl’s arm. “Could I speak with you a moment, Mr. Phelps?” he asked.
Carl followed him into the small office behind the reception desk. “What is it?” he asked, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
“Why not make the rate adjustment?” Bryan asked.
“We don’t do rate adjustments when the client is already paying the best rate we offer for a suite.”
“But maybe he really was quoted the wrong rate. Or maybe he misunderstood.”
“It’s against our policy,” Carl said stubbornly.
Bryan glanced toward the front desk. The man was still berating Rachel, who looked on the verge of tears. Bryan shook his head and went to her. He glanced at the computer screen, then greeted the man. “I’m sorry for all this trouble, Mr. McCracken,” he said. “I’ll get this cleared up for you right away.” With a few clicks of the mouse, he’d made the required adjustment, and hit the key to print a new invoice. “I apologize for the confusion,” he said, handing over the new figures and smiling at Mrs. McCracken. “I’ve added an additional ten percent discount for all your trouble.”
The man looked dumbfounded, but his wife stepped forward to take the new receipt. “Thank you so much,” she said. “That was very nice of you.”
“I hope you’ll stay with us again soon,” Bryan said. “We want another chance to show you that at the Elevation Hotel, we pride ourselves on customer service.”
“I’m sure we will,” she said. “The rooms really are very nice.” She took her husband’s arm. “We’d better go, dear. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
When they were gone, Rachel turned to stare at Bryan. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I can’t either.” Carl had emerged from the office and now stood behind them, his face almost as red as Mr. McCracken’s had been. “I could fire you for that kind of insubordination,” he said.
“I turned an angry customer into a satisfied one,” Bryan said. “Why would you want to fire me for that?”
“You can’t adjust rates every time a client demands it. We’d go broke.”
“How often does something like this happen? The profit from repeat business will more than make up for the couple hundred dollars we lose with the adjustment. That man and his wife are going to remember what we did and tell their friends. But instead of shouting about how we ripped them off, they’ll talk about how nice their room was and how we settled this confusion over their room charges. You can’t buy that kind of goodwill.”
Carl’s face was less red, though he continued to look grumpy. “This is very unorthodox,” he said.
“I guess I’m an unorthodox kind of guy.”
Carl’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Speaking of unorthodox, where did you get that tie?”
Bryan glanced down at the tie, which featured Bugs Bunny on a snowboard. “My nephew gave it to me for Christmas,” he said. “Do you like it?”
“No.”
Bryan grinned. “I do.” He checked his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make some calls.”
Leaving Carl looking dazed, Bryan strolled down the hall to his office. Zephyr was right. Taking a corporate job didn’t mean he had to leave behind his old philosophy of living life on his own terms. He didn’t have to let others dictate his decisions, whether they related to the clothes he wore, the way he interacted with others, or the woman he chose to love.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun streamed through the front windows of the Chocolate Moose, bathing the tables covered in tropical print fabric in a golden glow. A placard by the cash register announced a special on chocolate and banana smoothies and the whir of the mixer competed with the crooning of the Beach Boys on the loudspeaker. The stuffed moose head on the back wall wore sunglasses and a Colorado
Rockies ball cap.
Angela added a cup of chopped peanuts to the peanut butter brownies she was mixing up and mentally reviewed the ingredients list for the brown sugar frosting she wanted to ice them with. She’d have to be sure to order more powdered sugar from her supplier.
“What does a customer have to do to get service around here?”
Smiling, Angela turned to greet Tanya. Dressed for summer in a white, sleeveless blouse and khaki walking shorts, sunglasses perched on top of her head and a straw bag over her arm, the director looked cool and sophisticated—the opposite of how Angela felt in her overheated kitchen. She shut off the mixer, untied her floral-print apron and hurried into the front room of the shop. “You look gorgeous, as usual,” she said. “Want to try one of my smoothies?”
“That sounds really good.” Tanya sat at one of the tables. “Do you have time to join me?”
“Let me put this batch of brownies in the oven and I can give you a few minutes.” She started the smoothies whirring in the blender, then returned to the kitchen and spread the brownie batter in a pan.
Brownies in the oven, she poured the smoothies into a pair of parfait glasses and carried them to the table.
Tanya took a long pull at her straw. “That is so good,” she said, closing her eyes in an expression of ecstasy.
“If one smoothie can make you that happy, I’d say you need to get out more,” Angela said.
Tanya stuck out her tongue at her friend. “You’re one to talk. But speaking of love lives, have you seen Bryan lately?”
Angela felt the familiar tightness in her chest any thought of Bryan always brought. “Not since dinner last Thursday.” She sighed. “It’s for the best.”
“It is not for the best and you know it. You should call him.”
Angela had lost track of how many times in the past four days she’d picked up the phone. “What could I say?” she asked.
“How about ‘Bryan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it when I said we shouldn’t see each other. I was only scared of being hurt again. Will you give me another chance?’”
“Maybe I should have you call him for me?”
“Uh-uh.” Tanya took another long sip of her drink. “Would you like me to repeat my little speech about having confidence in yourself?”
“Please, not the speech!” Angela stirred her drink with her straw. “I want to call him. I simply need a little more time to get my courage up. It’s not the easiest thing in the world to admit to a guy you were wrong. And what if he’s angry with me? What if he decides he’s better off without me?”
“That’s a risk you have to take, I guess.”
Risk. Something she’d been thinking a lot about lately.
Tanya pushed away her empty glass. “Are you learning your lines for The Red Lady’s Revenge?” she asked. “Do you need me to run through them with you?”
Auditions had been held Sunday afternoon and to Angela’s surprise—and trepidation—Tanya had held to her pledge to award Angela the lead. “Sometime soon, maybe. I’m doing okay so far.” She collected Tanya’s empty glass and carried it and her own to the sink behind the counter.
“How much do I owe you?” Tanya asked, reaching for her purse.
“It’s on the house. Thanks for convincing me to try out for the part of Roxanne.”
“Didn’t I tell you you’d be perfect?” Tanya stood and walked to the counter across from Angela. “Everybody was blown away by your performance. You were sexy and bold, with just the right touch of vulnerability. You were great.”
“Thanks. This is a role that is really going to make me stretch—not like the comic sidekicks I usually play.”
“We all need to get out of our comfort zones once in a while. To take a few risks.”
There was that word again.
The string of sleigh bells attached to the front door jangled and the door opened, letting in the sounds of laughter and the throb of a motorcycle passing along Elk Avenue. Angela squinted through the glare at the man who stood on the threshold, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her.
The seriousness of Bryan’s steel gray summer-weight suit and sober expression was spoiled by the huge bouquet of paper flowers he carried. “Hello, Angela,” he said. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
“I was just leaving.” Tanya gave Angela an encouraging look, snatched up her purse and scurried away.
Angela stared at Bryan, not trusting herself to speak. Her heart pounded and she felt light-headed.
“You look great,” he said, moving a few steps toward her. “I’ve missed you.”
She knew what she looked like, having caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror behind the front counter. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, stray strands curling around her face, and she had a streak of flour across one cheek. Her blue-flowered sundress was too tight across the chest and there was a smear of chocolate over her left breast. Proof positive that love was blind.
She sucked in a deep breath, realizing she’d stopped inhaling and exhaling pretty much since the door had opened. That explained the light-headedness. Now if she could only get past her sudden muteness.
“We need to talk,” Bryan said.
Yes, they did. Still not speaking, she moved past him to the door, which she locked, then she flipped the sign to read Closed and pulled the shade. That still left the front window open for anyone to look into, but it at least gave the illusion of privacy. She smoothed the front of her dress, straightened her shoulders, and turned to face him. “Why paper flowers?” she asked.
He looked at the bouquet—bright orange zinnias, red roses, yellow daisies and something pink and fluffy. A dahlia, maybe? “The grocery store was out of fresh ones and won’t have more until tomorrow. I didn’t want to wait.” He thrust them toward her. “I never got around to bringing you flowers before, so I wanted to now.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She took the bouquet and resisted the urge to stick her nose down in it. Of course they wouldn’t smell like anything but paper, but it was such an instinctive gesture. And since her brain was functioning about as well as an engine with all the gears rusted, she was counting on instinct to get her through this encounter with Bryan.
His eyes met hers and the heat of his gaze shook her. All the passion and determination she’d admired in him was distilled in that gaze. “Why don’t we sit?” she suggested. She wasn’t sure how much longer her legs would support her, with him looking at her that way.
They sat opposite one another, the ridiculous bouquet of flowers resting on the table between them. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the last time we spoke,” he said.
“I really shouldn’t have said it,” she blurted. “I’ve been meaning to—”
“No.” The fierceness in that one word stopped her. “You were right about a lot of things. I had let my ambition blind me to lot of other important things.” He frowned. “You made me see some things about myself that were pretty ugly.”
She almost laughed; she imagined Bryan wasn’t a man used to hearing that adjective applied to himself.
“I was just afraid of being hurt,” she said. “I was projecting my own fears onto you.”
“No. Zephyr said something similar, though I didn’t want to hear it. The thing is—” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I thought in order to make a good impression on my bosses, to get the promotions and raises I wanted, I had to make myself into the perfect corporate employee. I thought I could turn myself into that kind of guy and it wouldn’t matter because in the end, I’d have what I wanted.
“It took me almost losing the most important things for me to wake up to how stupid I’d been.”
He took her hand, and rubbed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. “I don’t want to be a corporate clone,” he said. “I don’t want to be anything but myself. If that means I don’t climb the ladder as quickly as I’d like, so be it. I spent too many years living on my own terms to ever be happy with a
nything else.”
“I’ve been doing some thinking, too,” she said. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve always thought of acting as a fun hobby, but this week I realized how long I’d made it my full-time occupation. For years, I’ve been playing the role of the strong, confident, independent woman. Being with you stripped away all that. You touched the real me who had been hiding behind that costume—the me who had never let go of a bunch of old insecurities and fears.” His grip on her hand tightened, and she squeezed back, welcoming his silent support.
“I realized it was time to let go of that old me, and those old fears,” she continued. “Maybe I’m not as strong as I pretended, but I want to be stronger. I want to take more risks, even if it means taking a chance on being hurt.”
His eyes met hers once more, his gaze burning into her. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I love you. From the first day I met you, you made me feel things I’ve never felt about any other woman. I need you and want you and I don’t care who knows it. To me, you’re perfect.” He stood and pulled her from her chair, into his arms, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that left no room for argument.
When they finally broke the kiss, she couldn’t keep back her smile. “I love you,” she said. “I don’t know why I let so many other feelings get in the way of that one.”
“We’re going to be happy together,” he said. “Though I’m counting on you to bring me to my senses if I ever let ambition be more important than friendship or love.”
“We’re going to be happy,” she said. “I’ll do my best to keep you in line.”
They kissed again, sealing their pledge, as the Beach Boys sang about surfing and sports cars. “We make a good team,” he said when they came up for air.
“We do.” She smoothed the collar of his jacket. “You can be in charge of crunching numbers and planning parties, and I’ll make sure everyone is fed and entertained.”
“Are you planning our lives or a business?”
“Both. After all, you’re going to need someone to run the restaurant side of your boutique hotel, aren’t you?”