Once upon a time, all she wanted had been to be in the public eye. Now, all she wanted was to be out of it.
When she played in the television series, her parents set up a fairly good deal for her. There were always residual checks. But the studio had the right to sell her episodes to the highest bidder for replay.
May had tried a couple of decades ago to get out of that contract. But her old agent, Michael Campbell, couldn’t get the studio to agree. He passed away shortly after that, and May hadn’t tried since. Maybe the time had come for another attempt. She rubbed her temple again. Or not.
Maybe she ought to let it ride. This could be nothing at all.
She remembered the crazed look in the stalker’s eyes. Or this could be the beginning of another nightmare.
“Drop it,” she ordered herself. May reached behind her and fed the offending message into the shredder. The whir of the machine soothed her nerves.
The second envelope had her shaking her head. Well. Apparently one of the networks was replaying her early episodes. A hefty check inside the envelope. Enough to take care of her stonework, furniture, and possibly roof the damn house if she wanted.
Money had never been a problem for her. In fact, if she chose, she could just retire now and exist on a remote tropical island somewhere. But she didn’t want that. There was always a need in her to be a viable person in her own right. To make a mark of her own.
Chandler’s words came back to her. She understood completely. For as many years as she took direction, now it was her turn to direct her own life. It was her own. It belonged to her in a way her childhood never had.
May tucked the check back into the envelope and set it aside. She would run to the bank later and deposit it. The third and fourth envelopes held invitations to various fundraisers in town. One to a ball to raise funds for juvenile cancer. The other to a tea to raise funds for a local food bank.
May wrote large checks to both. She played with the last envelope for a second before she opened it. Mail being a crap shoot even on the best days.
The letter written on heavy cream bond paper. May unfolded it and frowned. The words blurred, and she tried to breathe in and out even though her lungs were screaming at her.
It was from her old agent’s son. Apparently he felt it his duty to oversee her interests. This William Campbell informed her that one of the cable networks wanted to do a true story piece on her life. From the early years to her accident to now.
Bile rose in May’s throat. No way in hell would she agree to it. Child star broken. Flees spotlight. Balances local businesses books.
Oh God. She really would be sick.
May lurched to her feet and stumbled into the closest bathroom. Sweat pored from her brow as she sank to the cool tile. The tiny pink flowers on her tiles filled her vision, and she blinked back the tears. Then her head rolled back, and she lost consciousness.
* * * *
Eden bent down over May and stroked her forehead.
“You will be fine, my dear,” she whispered. “All this stress isn’t good for you.” Eden reached down and lightly touched May’s injured leg. “The injury worsens when you worry. The nerves weep when you are tense.” She bit her lip. Should she gift her precious mortal even before they met? Not the normal order of events. Of course, nothing about this assignment could be deemed normal, could it?
Years ago, Eden broke the rules. It seemed to be a pattern she would follow with May.
Eden knelt down on the floor and moved May into her lap. She brushed May’s hair back and sighed.
“You have great intelligence and compassion. But you need peace, don’t you? A place inside yourself to find balance. You struggle against your thoughts and feelings. You struggle against the outside world. You have always struggled, my child.” She sighed. “The world will always be full of conflict and dissension. But you shouldn’t have to be.” Eden closed her eyes and laid her hands gently on May’s head. “I gift you peace, May.”
When the gift anchored itself deep inside of the mortal, Eden gently lifted her and walked back into May’s study. She set May down at her desk and shook her head. The connection between them still strong. It tugged at her even as she knew she would have to leave.
Eden saw the broken little girl inside the woman and prayed to any who would listen for the help she knew May would need.
* * * *
May lifted her head from her desk and removed the piece of paper from her forehead with a grimace. My God. Had she blacked out now? She blinked and looked at her desk. Open envelope that had contained freaky stalker message in it. Check. Two invitations and two checks written. Check. And the lovely nightmare of a letter in her hand. Check.
Is there something I’m missing? May frowned and glanced toward the door. Hadn’t she gone to the bathroom sick? Yet here she found herself. Slumped over in her office chair. Evil piece of shit letter in hand. And the nausea gone.
“I’m losing my mind,” she muttered. May brought the letter back in front of her and reread it. The story only an option. The offer out there, and this William Campbell strongly urged her to take it.
Like. Hell.
May brought up a blank document and typed out a firm refusal, printed it, and promptly tucked it in an envelope to send back to her agent’s son. That took care of the snail mail correspondence. Now, on to the electronic.
She opened the email from Spades Hardware and would have done a happy dance if her leg let her. They accepted all her changes and added a large gift certificate to her fee. If she finished early at Elysian Fields, then she could run by the hardware store and pick out some stone. May rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
She glanced out the small window behind her and noted the mist hadn’t slacked off. Not a big deal. May had all weekend to work on it. The day certainly looking up. There were also two referrals from Spades for two more clients. Each outlined the needs of the businesses and asked if she would be interested. She promptly fired off two affirmative responses and moved down to read the rest of her messages.
Nothing too terribly exciting. A former classmate getting married for the fourth time. May rolled her eyes. So far, she had sent gifts to each wedding. Maybe she should send a gift certificate to a divorce attorney.
“That’s terrible,” she chided herself and shook her head. “I’ll simply see where she’s registered and pick something from there.” The announcement also came with an invitation. But May ignored it the same way she did reunion invitations, bachelorette parties, and every other social event she had been invited to.
They weren’t for her. The drinking and the dancing and the nonsense. She hardly did the first. Never did the second. And had no tolerance for the third.
May closed her email down and moved the nursery folder in front of her again. It would be nice to have a large nursery in town where she could shop. The local hardware stores had a limited selection. Every other plant she wanted or needed had to be shipped in or bought two counties over. Really the only other thing May wanted close. Her small town proved to be more than adequate for the rest of her needs.
Landscaping had always been popular in her older neighborhood. A lot of her neighbors grew up in a black-and-white era and so decorated the yards and porches with colorful flowers, chimes, and planters. They took great care to bring beauty to their homes.
May would be sure to let all her neighbors know of the new nursery in town. Usually once a month, she would take orders from the rest of the residents, rent a truck, and go pick everything up in one load. The older residents would have their grandchildren help unload the treasure, even May’s. It worked out perfectly. But if the new nursery had a great selection and free delivery, those once-a-month trips would be a thing of the past.
May slid the folder and her correspondence in her black attaché case and stood slowly. The moisture from the mist made her leg ache terribly. And sitting in one spot for hours didn’t help matters either. She rubbed it absently and limped off to
the kitchen. Tiny rivulets of rain slid quietly down her kitchen windows. A peaceful afternoon.
The rain was appreciated, but it made the afternoon almost unbearable. If May couldn’t do anything with the stone she planned on buying and couldn’t weed her garden, then what was she supposed to do for hours this afternoon after her meeting?
May made a turkey sandwich and ate it standing up with her back against her stove. She washed it down with a cup of green tea and glanced at the clock. A little after twelve, and it would only take her ten minutes at the most to arrive at the nursery.
She didn’t have enough time to shop for stone at the hardware store. That would take at least an hour. Television out. She rarely found pleasure in it.
May tapped her small fingernails on the counter behind her and tapped her left foot on the floor.
“This is pitiful. I’m an intelligent adult who doesn’t know how to kill half an hour.” She glanced around the kitchen and frowned. Everything looked neat as a pin.
“And I’m obviously a bit obsessive/compulsive.” May arched an eyebrow and noted her two sets of sandals she kept by the door were aligned evenly, her curtains were open exactly the same length, and her plants hung symmetrically. She hung her head in shame. Organized was good. A kitchen that looked like it belonged on a television show, not good.
Had she been doing that all along? She lifted her head. Subconsciously surrounding herself with this uberorganized space that didn’t remotely resemble what she really wanted?
“I live by myself.” May took a breath. “Of course it’s organized. No one else is here to mess it up.” And then the realization slammed into her. That was it. No one else was around. Had she ever invited her neighbors inside her home? Had she ever hosted a dinner party? Been to anyone else’s?
Chandler had been in her home. But that had been strict necessity. First Billie had stumbled into her yard. And then fear had driven Chandler back over.
May’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m a hermit,” she muttered. Not a pleasant realization. For nearly two decades, she insulated herself inside this house or her fenced backyard. No one bothered her or asked uncomfortable questions. The only interaction she received had been when she went shopping, and that minimal. Business was more often than not done by emails and electronic transfers.
“I’m a prisoner in my own home.”
The minute the stark words were out, May knew they were true. Her leg ached intensely, and she made her way over to the table and sat down. How could she not see it earlier? Not realize that her beautiful home had been a gilded cage?
My God! She took a deep breath and eased it out again. If something happened to her in her home, when would someone even notice?
“Geez.” May rubbed her leg and stared out the nearest window. “That’s a nice thought. Nothing like a little morbidity to lighten the mood. Give me half an hour, and I’ve mentally offed myself. Not exactly the time killer I hoped for.”
A slight tap at the back door made her raise her head. Chandler stood there with a large, dark blue umbrella over his head. May motioned him in, and he slid the door open and stepped inside. He made sure to close the umbrella outside and lean it against the side of her house. Then he stayed on her area rug by the back door and brushed his hands through his wet hair.
May smiled. He looked good. Then again, didn’t he always? The dark blue jeans and short-sleeved red shirt molded to his body. He wore a pair of white sneakers that trailed bits of her lawn on them.
“What can I do for you, Chandler?”
He met May’s eyes, and he smiled. “I’ll take a rain check on that one.”
May fought the blush and simply arched an eyebrow. “Noted.”
“I’ve come to plead with you to guide me in your agricultural ways.”
She blinked.
“C’mon, May. Help a guy out.” He grinned. “I have yard envy.”
“Yard envy?” she repeated then chuckled. “Do tell.”
Chandler sighed. “It’s sad but true. I am the laughingstock of the entire neighborhood. I have crab grass that chuckles evilly every time I walk by. There are dandelions, dandelions I tell you, that have taken over the front walk. It’s only a matter of time before I’m booted from the neighborhood.” He paused and bowed his head. “So I throw myself on your tender mercies and plead with you to take pity and mold me into the gardener I know I can be.”
May nodded and struggled against the laughter that bubbled up inside her. She cleared her throat. “Pretty speech. How long have you been practicing it?”
Chandler kicked off his shoes and padded over to the table to sit beside her. “All morning. I especially like the ‘tender mercies’ part.” He shamelessly winked.
“Do you think my kitchen is too neat?”
He frowned and looked around. “Is that a trick question?”
May groaned. “I knew it.”
Chandler shook his head and looked puzzled. “You seem to have misplaced me somewhere in the conversation.”
“Look at my house.” May motioned around. “Just look at it.”
“Okay.” Chandler drew the word out into three syllables and turned to check out where May pointed. “I’m looking. And what exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”
“Everything is too organized.” May motioned to the countertops. “Look! All cleaned off. And all my area rugs are perfectly balanced against the baseboards.”
“My God! You fiend!” Chandler hurriedly scooted his chair away from hers. “This obvious cleanliness masks the unhinged creature that you truly are. Stay away from me. I embrace clutter.”
May shook her head at herself and laughed until tears ran from her eyes. “Oh my God! Listen to me.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I truly am.” She sniffled and met Chandler’s eyes. “Lack of sleep and too much free time seems to be my undoing.”
Chandler moved his chair back. “Listen. If this whole organized thing isn’t working for you, I can always bring Billie over to redecorate. The results may be a little drastic, but she comes pretty cheap. Keep her sippy cup filled, and a sucker in her hand. You’ll be in business.”
“That’s sweet.” May smiled. “And extremely scary. But thanks for the offer.”
Chandler’s eyes never left hers. “Tell me what this is really about, May. There’s more to it than clean countertops.”
She took a deep breath. “I suddenly realized I spend a hell of a lot of time at home making sure my flatware is polished and organized neatly.”
“You polish your flatware?”
May chuckled. “I’ve been known to.”
“Wow.” Chandler looked at her with admiration in his eyes. “Your talents are limitless.”
“You seem to be missing the point here.”
“There’s more to the point than polished flatware?” He blinked.
“I don’t get out much.”
Chandler shrugged easily. “Then get out more.”
“I’m not exactly mobile.” May dropped her eyes to the table at the mention of her disability.
Chandler lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “You’re not exactly decrepit, either. Instead of using all that energy making sure your floor sparkles, how about using it to show your new neighbor around town?” He grinned. “That would be me.” Chandler’s grin slowly faded as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across May’s lips. “I seem to have lost my train of thought. All I’m thinking about now is kissing you.”
May’s breath hitched in her throat. She had plenty of time to pull back or put her hand up to stop him. She did neither. And then his lips were on hers, and she moaned in pleasure. All thought fled as heat flooded her body.
Chandler’s tongue stroked hers as his hands moved up to bring her closer. May leaned into him but didn’t move her hands from her lap. She knew if she surrendered, the next stop would be her bed. Not a step she wanted to take with her attractive neighbor.
May pulled back and willed herself to breathe evenly as her eyes m
et Chandler’s. He sighed and sat back in his chair.
“Let me guess. You’re thinking.”
May allowed herself a small smile. “I suppose I am. That’s what women do at my age.”
“May, my dear, that’s what women do at every age.” Chandler folded his hands behind his head and looked at her. “Are you thinking of helping me with my yard? Or are you thinking the kiss was a bad idea?”
“Both,” she admitted.
“I guess a man can live with batting five hundred.” Chandler stood easily and stretched. Then he walked over and slid his sneakers on. He looked up at May and brushed two small pieces of grass on her floor, arched his eyebrow, and stepped back outside.
The door shut soundlessly behind him, and she chuckled.
He had done it on purpose. It seemed he did everything on purpose. Chandler Hughes already warned her once. She shouldn’t bet against him. That’s what she was afraid of.
Chapter 4
May sat at her table and looked at the grass on her floor. Is it the end of the world? Hardly. Maybe it is a new beginning. She cocked her head to the side. What would she do with her handsome young neighbor? Certainly not what he wanted. Heat flushed through her body. May touched her burning cheeks.
How did someone her age reconcile being with someone so much younger? They had nothing in common. Two entirely different generations. May rubbed her leg absently. Plus, she felt sure he would lose all desire for her when he caught sight of the mess that was her right leg.
“I’m stressing myself out over nothing,” she murmured and rubbed her hand across her eyes. “He’ll give up trying, and we can go back to being simply neighbors.” Her hormones ceased tap dancing. For some reason, that didn’t comfort her.
May stood and sighed. “And he’ll want kids. And I’m not having any.” She paused. “Ever.” Once, the thought had been foremost in her mind. Back when she had been young and naive and susceptible to impossible dreams. Those days were long gone. She couldn’t keep up with a baby. And she’d be so damn old when the child graduated, many would mistake her for being the grandparent.
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