Second-Chance Sweethearts

by Cindy Caldwell

  “When I was very young, I fell in love with a man—a boy, really—who sold me the moon. He came from a very wealthy family and had been all over the world. Had even gone to boarding school, was flown in on helicopters. His father owned some baseball team in New York or something. I don’t remember.”

  She glanced at Allen and his eyebrows rose as he folded leaned forward again.

  “We were in college together, and it was a magical time. At least it was in my head,” she said slowly. “He told me he loved me, and we talked for hours and hours about all the places we’d go, the sights we’d see.”

  Allen nodded, waiting for her to continue.

  “He proposed, and my family was so excited that they planned a big wedding when they couldn’t really afford it. Catered, flowers, at the nicest country club in our small town. Well, the only one,” she said, smiling wryly at the memory.

  “It sounds lovely,” Allen said as he reached for her hand. “I’m sure you were a beautiful bride.”

  She took his hand but looked up at him and blinked several times, frowning.

  “Oh, no, you don’t understand. I never got to be a bride. He stood me up at the altar. We ended up having a very expensive dinner for all our friends—and anyone else in town who wanted to come, as his friends and family didn’t show up either.”

  “What?” Allen said as he stood and folded his arms.

  She looked up at him, grateful for his indignation on her behalf.

  “I guess what I didn’t know was that he never intended to marry me. He’d been engaged to a girl from New York, from another wealthy family, all that time.”

  It had been years ago, and the heartache and humiliation had faded. And she noticed that she had not a tinge of regret anymore. She turned to him and smiled.

  “How can you smile about something like that. It’s horrible what he did to you.”

  She brushed the hair from her eyes, happy that there were no tears with this telling.

  “You know, I haven’t told that story in years. And this time, I really didn’t even feel anything. It’s just a story that happened to me. It was honestly the best thing that ever happened, that we didn’t get married.”

  “You weren’t sorry that you missed out on marriage, a family?” Allen asked as he took her hands.

  Corinne shook her head.

  “No. If my choice was—and clearly it was—having a family with someone so horrid or being on my own, I would have chosen being on my own.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Allen said slowly. “I guess you wouldn’t have done all those wonderful things if you were married and had kids.”

  Corinne laughed. “I might have, as it’s in my blood. But I did make it my mission to go to all the places we’d talked about—and then some. I showed him,” she said as she smiled up at Allen.

  As their eyes met, she cocked her head. She couldn’t quite read what he was thinking, but she knew that he was looking at her with kindness and respect, not pity.

  “I wouldn’t have done that to you. And I will say, it’s his loss,” he said as he leaned closer to her, brushing his thumb on her cheek.

  Her stomach fluttered at his touch, and she closed her eyes. It had felt good to tell the story to someone who she cared about, and a relief that it didn’t hurt anymore. Half of her felt that it was a sign that she’d finally moved on, created her life as she wanted. And the other half of her wished she had a second chance at love. Maybe it was more than she’d imagined, and the warmth of his hand on her cheek told her she probably wasn’t wrong.

  Allen stepped back and cleared his throat as darkness fell and he gathered his tools.

  “I guess that’s it for tonight,” he said, looking up at the sky as the first star sparkled above them.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed. She helped him pack things up and take them inside, and reached for her coat.

  He helped her on with it, and she thanked him, not sure that she could think of one more thing to say to him unless it was to talk about the elephant in the room—the way she felt when he’d asked about her heart, and she’d laid it wide open. And the fact that she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  Just as she turned toward the door, he pulled her toward him. She looked up into his eyes and he smiled as he leaned forward, his lips resting gently on hers.

  She closed her eyes and kissed him back—best she could remember—and when he pulled away, she didn’t want to open them, didn’t want this to go away.

  But she did, and smiled up at him.

  “Thank you for opening up and telling me that story,” Allen said. “Like I said, his loss. He didn’t know what he was letting go.”

  He kissed her again, and it was all she could do to make her wobbly legs carry her all the way to her car.

  He waited as she started the engine and headed down the road to Riston—and he was the last thing she saw in the rear view mirror as she left the ranch.

  Chapter 13

  All the preparations were ready for the cast and staff party, and it was a good thing as time had flown and the party was the following night already.

  They’d taken everything to Allen and Opal’s cabin, and Corinne had made her famous chili earlier in the day—her family’s recipe. Tamlyn said it was perfect, and she packed it in the car along with all the costumes and headed over.

  Allen took the heavy Dutch oven from her and set it on the stove when she got there. It was still hot, and all they’d have to do after they got back from setting up in the barn was warm it up a little.

  “Wow, thanks for making dinner. We’re going to be busy enough setting up for the party tomorrow night.”

  “My pleasure. It’s my mother’s famous chili and I haven’t made it in a while. This was a good excuse.”

  She set the container of cornbread on the counter and the condiments in the refrigerator. Allen followed her to her car, which was full of tubs of costumes, including the feather boas and hair pins that they’d found during their shopping excursions in the past couple of weeks.

  Allen followed her over to the event barn with his trucks, carrying the costume racks, frame for the curtains and the chairs and things they’d gathered.

  Fred, Olivia, Opal and Bernard were already there, and they all took a hand in carrying things into the barn and setting them in the corner Wade had designated for their set-up. Tamlyn turned up shortly with some hats she’d said were fine to borrow from the wardrobe studio. She also brought a hat rack to hang them on, and by the time they’d gotten the curtain backdrop up and the costumes all hung, they were getting hungry.

  Opal and Bernard were fiddling with the camera still and the printer they’d brought to give the photographs to the party-goers, and Tamlyn nursed her foot, begging off for dinner to go home and rest for the following day’s festivities.

  The band was setting up as well, and when a song from the 80s started, Corinne couldn’t help herself. They were still in jeans and the white shirts that they’d set up in, but she didn’t care. Allen smiled and happily joined her in a dance that felt really old school. They even did some of the old dances, laughing as they did the bump—which also sent Olivia and Opal into peals of laughter.

  “Oh, wow, that was something,” Opal said as they walked back over.

  “Yeah, guess we can’t un-see that,” Olivia said with a laugh.

  “You girls don’t know what real dancing is. Back then, we really knew what we were doing,” Allen said as the girls groaned.

  “Uh-huh,” Opal said. “Guess that’s a good warning about the father-daughter dance at the wedding.”

  “All right, all right. We’ll head over to the cabin and get dinner ready,” Allen said as he ruffled his daughter’s hair. “We’re having chili.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Olivia said. “Fred and I will just finish up with Opal.”

  “See you in a bit, then,” Allen said as he placed his hand in the small of Corinne’s back and ushered her out to their cars. The sun had set and
with no moon, the black of the night fell heavy. As they passed between their cars, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight.

  “Everything looks great, Corinne. I think Wade’s going to be very happy. And so am I,” he said before he kissed her.

  She hugged him right back and leaned into his kiss. She hadn’t felt like this in—well, she’d never felt like this. She was having the adventure of a lifetime, and she didn’t want it to end.

  Allen beat her to the cabin and had started getting out bowls. He’d turned on the chili and put the cornbread in foil in the oven. Corinne thought he looked like he had experience with this meal, but he was a pretty decent cook all around anyway.

  She took the onions and tomatoes that she’d chopped up before and put them on the table, along with a bowl of shredded cheese. She’d tried to make sure that the chili wasn’t too spicy, as she didn’t really know how Allen’s family liked their food—but for her, she put a jar of jalapeños on the table. She liked her food as spicy as she could get it.

  “Mind if I use the restroom before they all come?” she asked. She wanted to wash her hands of whatever was on all those costumes.

  Allen shook his head. “You don’t have to ask,” he said and she headed for the bathroom that was through his bedroom. She passed the fireplace on the way and stopped to look at the pictures, surprised that she never had before. She picked up each picture in turn, studying Mary’s face. She squinted at the wedding picture of Mary and Allen and realized why the dress had needed alterations for Opal. Opal was by no means a big girl, but Mary was downright tiny.

  Other pictures showed the resemblance between Mary and her girls. In a picture with Opal and Olivia on her lap, they were all smiles, and there was no doubt they loved each other very much.

  Corinne glanced at Allen, who was humming as he stirred the chili, and went on to the restroom. She looked at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands—her red hair with the shock of white couldn’t be further than the dark hair and eyes of this family, and she suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.

  On her way back to the kitchen, she poked her head in Allen’s room, even though she knew she shouldn’t. On his dresser was a picture of him and Mary when they were very, very young, and kicked herself for going in there. They looked so happy, their teenage smiles full of joy and hope for the future.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, so she picked up the other picture on the dresser. In this one, Mary looked very frail and much older. She and Allen were smiling, but they weren’t smiles of joy, but of sadness and loss. It must have been taken shortly before she died.

  Her head flooded with thoughts and her heart flooded with emotion, she headed back into the kitchen, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

  Allen glanced up and frowned when she walked into the kitchen.

  “You okay?” He set down the chili spoon and crossed the kitchen, taking her hands.

  Corinne felt awful for having looked at the pictures. She’d been completely honest with Allen about everything, and she wasn’t going to change that now, no matter how stupid she’d been.

  “I was just looking at your pictures,” she said.

  He glanced at the mantle and nodded.

  “And the ones in your bedroom,” she added.

  “Oh,” he said as he raised his eyebrows.

  Corinne pulled her hands away and sat down at the table.

  “You looked so happy,” she said slowly.

  They both looked up as Opal, Bernard, Olivia and Fred walked in, laughing about how fun the party would be the following night.

  “You guys were a hoot. Everybody’s waiting for more of your performance tomorrow night,” Opal said as she hung her coat on the coat rack.

  Corinne glanced at Allen and he didn’t take his eyes off of her as he ladled the chili into bowls.

  “Did you get the camera all set up?” Corinne asked as she set the bowls of chili Allen had ladled onto the table.

  “We did.” Opal sat down at the table and picked up her spoon.

  Everyone else sat and Allen put the cornbread and butter on the table.

  “No Fritos, Dad?” Olivia asked as she passed the bowl of cheese to Fred.

  “No, not this time,” Allen said as he sprinkled onions on his chili.

  Opal took a bite and chewed for a moment before she frowned.

  “Hey, Dad, I think you’re off your game. This doesn’t taste right.”

  Olivia took a bite and shook her head.

  “Nope, not right. Did you lose mom’s recipe?”

  Corinne stared into her bowl as she took a bite and forced herself to swallow.

  “Corinne made the chili,” Allen said slowly. “I think it’s delicious.”

  “Oh, nice,” Opal said, and she hopped up and opened a drawer in the kitchen. She took out a dog-eared cookbook and handed it to Corinne. “My mom was the best chili cook in the world. She won several contests. Best chili ever. The recipe’s in here if you want to learn how.”

  Corinne couldn’t even bring herself to look at Allen. She picked up the book and set her napkin on the table.

  “Thank you. I’ll look it over,” she said as she stood. “I’m really tired, and I think I’ll be going.”

  Her knuckles white around the book, she made a bee-line for her coat, not even putting it on before she was out the door.

  She turned the key and put the car in reverse, almost making it out before Allen slid in the seat beside her.

  “Corinne, I need to talk to you,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  She pulled away, her back against the door as she turned to him.

  “Allen, I don’t know that there’s anything to talk about. It’s pretty clear that Mary holds a very big space in your heart, and in your family. And I’m not going to do that again. I’m not going to compete with anyone. I just can’t do it.”

  “Corinne, you’re not competing. Mary’s been gone for a long time. Certainly you can understand that things might take a little adjusting to, for the girls. And for me.”

  She turned and shot him a glance. “Yes, I can see that. And I really do understand. But if we’re to have any relationship at all, it has to be because I’m me. Not Mary. Not because I can reproduce her chili. And certainly not because I get her hand-me-downs.

  She fumbled in her pocket and took out the handkerchief Allen had loaned her weeks ago. She’d washed it and folded it carefully before she realized that the M was for Mary, and she’d carried it around to return it ever since.

  The hurt in his eyes shot right through her, and for a second she wished she could take it back. Why did they have to be haunted by ghosts when something was so right, so sweet? She couldn’t take Mary’s place—and she wouldn’t.

  He took the handkerchief and got out of the car, standing on the porch as she left. She didn’t look back once, grateful that her tears didn’t fall until she was well away from River’s End Ranch.

  Chapter 14

  Corinne kicked the door of Tamlyn’s apartment shut and reached in her pocket, looking for Allen’s handkerchief, before she remembered she’d given it back to him.

  And it was a good thing she had. She hadn’t realized immediately that it was Mary’s handkerchief and that he’d kept it in his pocket for a keepsake. And when she did, it had become a constant reminder that she—wasn’t Mary. Most of the time, she could forget about it, but the more promising things became with Allen the harder that was to do.

  They’d had a wonderful time these past few weeks and it had been a thrill to get to know him. She’d never felt this way before, not even with her prior engagement, and as the party grew closer and Tamlyn clearly didn’t need much help, the nagging in the back of her head that the time for her to leave was approaching, but more she realized she’d really miss him.

  Not just a little bit. “Hole in the heart” type missing him. And she’d allowed herself to become hopeful that he felt the same way.

  She touched her lips, thinking
of the last time he’d kissed her. They hadn’t talked about it—the kiss, the relationship, their future—but as the nagging doubt grew, she wanted more than ever for it to be real. She’d never believed in second chances, but she’d let herself hope that she could have one, and that he might let himself have one, too.

  But tonight, that dream she’d let grow in her heart felt like a lie. An impossibility—and Opal had confirmed it. They didn’t want anything new, they were happy clinging to their past and she was just an intruder.

  She plopped down on the couch and tossed the recipe book aside.

  “Aunt Corinne, are you crying?” Tamlyn said as she came out from her bedroom in her pajamas. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Corinne’s words fell out in a jumble as she told the story of her and Allen—what fun they’d had, their dancing, their kisses, and the eventual end in disaster.

  “Oh, wow,” Tamlyn said when she’d finished. You’ve had quite a few weeks. And quite a night.”

  Corinne took Tamlyn’s outstretched hand and squeezed it.

  “I know we’ve all been pretty busy,” she said with a slight smile. “I’m sorry to trouble you with all of this, sweetheart, and I’ve been the worst aunt in the world.”

  Tamlyn squeezed her aunt’s hand in return and went into the kitchen. She filled the tea kettle and took out two mugs.

  “Aunt Corinne, don’t give a second’s thought to me, please. I’ve been really busy, happy, and especially happy to see you having so much fun. I think you and Allen are great together, and it’s been great to see you blossom.”

  Corinne laughed. “Blossom? I don’t know that I’ve blossomed, but it’s been nice to meet someone I have so much in common with, who I can share memories with, even if we didn’t have them together. Generationally, you know?”

  Tamlyn handed Corinne a cup of tea and sat down beside her again.

  “Yes, that must be very meaningful. Shared history. You guys did the same things growing up, even if you were on opposite sides of the country.”

  Corinne patted Tamlyn’s knee. “Yes, exactly. It’s hard to explain to someone your age, I’m afraid. But as you get older, those kinds of things that you have in common become more valuable, sweeter somehow.”