“Technically, it is not new. It’s a 1988 Integra two-door. It’s so cute, Graham, you should see it. I love it!”
“You’re buying an eight-year-old junker? Really, Beth, what were you thinking? What if it dies on you?”
“It has low miles and I did research on used cars. Car and Driver magazine named the Integra to its annual “Ten Best” list in 1988. And Consumer Reports gave it good marks for reliability too.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about this decision? Didn’t you want my input?”
“I figured you were busy.” Beth twisted her necklace and gripped the heart pendant with her fingertips. “It will be my car, not yours.”
“I know that. But I have vastly more experience in these type of transactions. Didn’t you think about that?”
“Not really.”
“Oh Beth, I’m surprised at your impetuousness. This isn’t like you.”
“The car is going to be checked out by a mechanic. I’m certainly not going to purchase it if there are fundamental problems.”
“Fine, Beth. I need to get back to what I was doing. Did you want something else or just to tell me about your cute car.”
“I was hoping we could see each other.”
“Not all of us have the free time you do, Beth. I have commitments.”
Beth sat down heavily in the chair. What was wrong with him? “Graham, what is going on? You haven’t been acting like yourself.”
“Things are complicated at work. I’d rather not go into it.”
“Wouldn’t you feel better if we talked about it? We used to talk about university politics all the time. You said I had good insights. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”
“Beth, that’s not true at all.”
“I haven’t even had the chance to tell you about my trip to Alpine Grove with the reunion and everything that happened with my mother.”
There was a long pause and finally Graham said, “All right. I suppose I have some time later this evening if that works with your busy schedule.”
“Do you want to come by here?”
“Certainly. I’ll be there around seven thirty, darling.”
Beth hung up the phone and looked around the room. She’d been home for less than twenty-four hours and already newspapers and books were strewn everywhere. The place was a mess. At least she’d hosed out the refrigerator yesterday. Graham was unlikely to be amused by fruit wearing furry outerwear.
By seven thirty the house was sparkling and Beth was exhausted. She’d barely had time to grab a quick shower, so she wouldn’t be all sweaty and disgusting when he arrived. Now, garbed in a light cotton sundress, she felt good about the appearance of both her home and herself.
Beth settled into her favorite chair and picked up the second A.J. Emerson novel. Maybe she could get in a few pages before Graham arrived. She was dying to know what happened to Preston Truitt. The poor guy was having serious problems at the end of the first book. And the relationship between him and the woman, Liz Logan, was getting extremely interesting.
The doorbell rang, startling her out of the story. Glancing at the clock, she noted it was 8:30. Graham was an hour late. Had she misunderstood the time?
Beth opened the door and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him hard. He kissed the top of her head and handed her a bottle of wine. “My apologies for being late, Beth.”
“It’s okay. I’m so glad to see you and glad you could make it this evening. I have so many things to tell you. Have a seat.” Beth went to open the wine and poured Graham a glass. “Here you go.”
“Aren’t you going to have any?”
“You know that doesn’t tend to be a good idea.”
“Oh, come on. Just one glass. We should toast to your new hunk of junk.”
Beth turned and poured herself a half a glass. She held it up. “Here’s to the Silver Bird!”
“That’s lyrical.”
Beth sat down next to Graham on the sofa and leaned toward him, smiling. “Isn’t it great? The owner named the car. I think she took good care of it too. It sounds like she’s going to miss it.”
Graham rolled his eyes melodramatically and sipped his wine. “Really, all this about a car?”
“Maybe it is a little silly.” Beth turned away from him and gazed down at the burgundy liquid in her glass. Graham knew his wines. It was good. “So tell me what is going on at work.”
“The usual.” Graham waved his hand west in the general direction of the university. “Just a bunch of unfounded accusations!”
“About what?” But Beth had a bad feeling she knew.
“You know this happens almost every year. Some little student gets a crush on me and then claims I made advances.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not!” Graham leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding the stem of his glass with both hands. “I can’t believe you’re even asking. That was more than six years ago and you know there were extenuating circumstances. I did not make any overtures toward you until you were no longer a student, and I was cleared of any wrongdoing. And then I got divorced on top of it.”
Beth swirled the wine in her glass. “Yes. I remember. How is your ex-wife doing?”
Graham waved his glass at her. “You can’t be serious. You said never to mention the name of that ‘vile malingering woman’ in your presence ever again. I believe it was during the now-legendary Fourth of July dispute of 1989, in which I discovered the scope and truly wicked nature of your temper.”
“I said that?” Beth looked away from him. “I suppose I might have.”
He got up and poured some more wine. “And yet here we are, still together. Still perfect for one another. Nothing has changed.”
“Yes. Here we are.”
Graham sat back down and sipped his wine. “With budget cuts, I think the jackals are just looking for ways to get rid of professors. There’s always a bunch of up-and-comers willing to work as adjuncts.”
“You’re just upset that you were passed over for tenure again.”
“I am working on my paper. It will be done soon.”
“Perhaps they are tired of waiting for you to publish something. I told you I could help you with it, if you like.” She lifted her wine glass with a flourish. “And right now, I have quite a bit more free time.”
“Thank you for the offer Beth, but this is out of your area of expertise.” He waved a hand dismissively. “The technology is so advanced and your arguments are unformed and sophomoric.”
Beth hated that word. Sometimes he treated her like some ill-behaved student. “Maybe I’m not as well-versed on the subject as you are, but sophomoric is a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
“It’s not a problem. My assistant is helping me.”
“And I suppose her arguments are not sophomoric?” Beth swirled her wine, observing the droplets as they slid down the side of the glass. “I was not suggesting that I write the paper, Graham. I could help you with research and editing. But it sounds like you have everything well in hand.”
Graham drained his wine and got up to get more. “My, aren’t you feeling snippy this evening? Apparently, your trip back to Podunkville did not improve your disposition.”
“Actually the trip was more enjoyable than I expected.”
“Yes, didn’t you have lots of small-town anecdotes you wanted to share about bygone days and your glory years as the Cedar Tree valedictorian?”
“Cedar County.” Beth looked up into Graham’s face as he sat back down. What was wrong with him? Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned his ex-wife. “The trip was…eventful, I guess you might say. I told you about my mother’s accident.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa. “Yes. I’m glad she is on the mend. It was kind of you to stay and help.”
“Her birthday party was a great success. I think everyone in town had a wonderful time.”
Graham opened his eyes and sipped his wine. “I’m s
ure it was the social event of the season.”
“The other thing I wanted to let you know is that I am returning to Alpine Grove in March because my mother’s sponsor—her friend Jill—gave her a cruise. They’re so excited about the trip.” Beth smiled. “Mom is over-the-moon happy. It was so sweet!”
“You’re going back there? Again? That’s going to cut into your job search, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes. But I told you, RTP gave me a generous severance package, so I have some time. And soon I won’t have a car payment!”
“Of course your savings are also depleted, thanks to your impulsive purchase today.”
Generally Beth tried to be patient with his moods because she didn’t want to rock the boat. They’d been together for a long time, so naturally they had their ups and downs. She tried not to voice her discontent, since he often found her complaints childish. Sure, sometimes they didn’t communicate well or engaged in playful banter as a form of teasing, but this was different. Graham was being downright nasty, and Beth had reached her limit. “What is bothering you? All you have done is snipe at me since you got here.”
Graham’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter on the sofa. “I told you, work has been stressful, darling.”
She put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” He took work so seriously. Maybe she wasn’t being fair.
He put down his wine and turned to look at her. “Perhaps we could have another glass of wine.”
Beth nodded. “All right.” Maybe everything was fine, after all.
The next morning, Beth awoke to sunshine streaming through the window. She stretched her arms above her head, grabbed the headboard, and grinned. Sleeping in late felt so decadent after years of getting up promptly at five in the morning. Unemployment wasn’t all bad. She could get used to getting a solid eight hours of sleep every night. When Graham left, he’d kissed her goodbye and promised to call. Because of work schedules and her trip, they hadn’t seen each other in a while and after she’d called him on his behavior, he seemed to make an effort to be charming and agreeable.
Beth reached down under the bed and pulled out the A.J. Emerson novel she’d hidden under there. The fact that the chemistry between Preston Truitt and Liz Logan practically sizzled off the page probably had enhanced Beth’s romantic feelings toward Graham. He didn’t need to know that she was thinking about Preston. All women had little fantasies like that, didn’t they? She opened the book and threw the bookmark on her nightstand. Preston and Liz just had to work this out. They just had to.
After Graham arrived and made comments about her indulgent reading behaviors, Beth had discreetly moved the book from the chair where she’d been reading and thrown it under the bed before he noticed. It was odd that he was so fixated on the idea of her returning to the ranks of the employed. For the first time she could remember, Beth had absolutely no responsibilities. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? It wasn’t like she hadn’t done anything. She’d tackled the dreaded resume project and a draft was safely stored on her computer, although she wasn’t completely happy with it yet.
Later, the phone rang and Beth reached over to answer it. Elizabeth had made an appointment with the mechanic to get the Acura looked at and they agreed to meet at the foreign-car place later in the day. Beth reluctantly put the book aside. She really needed to get going. With a sigh, she pushed back the bed covers and went to take a shower.
That afternoon the mechanic decreed the Acura basically sound. It would need new brake pads soon, but was otherwise fine. Beth called Elizabeth and told her she was going to the bank to get a cashier’s check. Everything was falling into place. After she picked up Elizabeth and she signed the title over to Beth, they would drop the Taurus at the Ford dealer, drop Elizabeth back at her house, and then Beth could take the car and its title home with her. The Silver Bird would be hers!
By the time she got home, Beth was exhausted. What an action-packed day. Buying a car was complicated, but exhilarating. It had been a long time since she’d done something completely on her own with no input from anyone else. No consensus, no compromise, and no meetings. There were a number of things she did not miss about corporate life.
However, she may have annoyed a few Tucson drivers on her way home. People didn’t appreciate it when she stalled out at traffic lights. The guy behind her had really lost his sense of humor when she stalled in the middle an intersection and the left-turn arrow started flashing. He had gesticulated wildly and looked like he might have some type of neurological episode.
The congestion in Tucson certainly had not improved since she’d lived there, but by the time she was shooting down the suicide lane on Broadway toward her home on the east side, she was starting to really enjoy driving the Acura. It was so much more fun than the Taurus, and once she figured out shifting, she could really zip around. What a difference. She had arranged with the dealer to sign papers and return the Taurus keys the next day, but at least the ugly purple thing was in their lot and out of her driveway.
After a satisfying evening of devouring the second A.J. Emerson novel, Beth set the book aside. Now that she’d read the second installment in the series, she couldn’t deny the fact that Drew had obviously drawn rather heavily on his own experience in writing the character of Liz Logan. Liz was essentially a much sexier, prettier version of Beth. Preston seemed to be drawn to her in spite of himself. The woman did have an unfortunate habit of getting in the middle of his investigations. But the connection the two characters had with one another was undeniably drawn from real life. She and Drew had never solved mysteries together, but he always used to say that Beth understood him like no one else.
In the novels, the character of Liz Logan was described as five-foot-seven with dark-brown hair, deep-set green eyes, and a curvaceous, buxom figure. She even had a freckle on her upper lip. Beth looked down at herself. There was a fine line between curvaceous and out of shape. Plus, her eyes weren’t truly green. They were really a sort of weird greenish-brown shade. The tinting of her contacts helped push her eye color more toward the green end of the spectrum, which was much prettier, she thought. In the books, Liz was extremely intelligent, but not a shy, bookish social misfit. It was kind of Drew to omit some of Beth’s less-redeeming qualities.
The last page of the novel said that A.J. Emerson enjoyed hearing from readers. Like the other authors in the publisher’s “family,” he could be contacted through the new web site or a P.O. Box in New York City. Well, Drew had said she could reach him through his publisher. She didn’t exactly have an emergency, but she really wanted him to know how much she loved the books.
Beth got up and turned on her computer. She no longer had an RTP e-mail address, but she did have a personal e-mail account. Mostly she used it for buying novels on the new book web site Amazon.com. RTP didn’t need to know about her book-buying habit, so she had set up another e-mail account. There was no way she could ignore a site with one million titles and discounts on best-sellers, after all.
She typed in the address for the web site listed at the end of the book. The design was hideous. Given all the money Drew must be making for his publisher, they really should think about getting it redone. She held out a Preston Truitt book in front of her. Like the other novels, the cover design was arresting. Putting the covers onto a dreary gray background on the web site sucked all the life out of them. Yuck. Mom would be appalled at displaying books so poorly, even online. Beth clicked the contact form and found A.J. Emerson’s name in the list of authors.
Drew had said his pen name was a secret. Maybe she shouldn’t put her real name or e-mail address into the contact form. After digging up some documentation to remind herself how to do it, Beth quickly created an e-mail alias that would redirect to her e-mail account, but disguise her real name. She chuckled at the name she selected: TheRealLizLogan. If Drew ever actually saw the e-mail, which was debatable, at least he’d know exactly who it was from. Sometimes technology was just too much fun.
Beth paused, trying to think of something to say. So many things were swirling in her mind after reading the second novel. She began typing.
Dear Mr. Emerson,
I wanted you to know that I am now a dedicated devotee of your Preston Truitt series. I have read True Alibis and True Blues so far. They are fast-moving and engrossing with clever, crisp dialogue. I am particularly fond of the interplay between Preston and Liz. They are amusing and yet dedicated to pursuing every piece of evidence. I love Preston’s irreverence, creativity, and tendency to bend the rules when it suits him. I am so gratified that my mother suggested I read your books and lent me the first one. I have purchased the other four that are available and look forward to accompanying Preston on the rest of his journey into the sixth book when it is released.
Your fan,
Liz
Beth pressed the submit button on the contact form and sent her e-mail out into the ether. Given that about fifty other authors were on the contact form, she doubted Drew would ever actually see her e-mail. But at least she got what she wanted to say out of her system. Since he seemed to be having so much trouble with the final book in the series, she wanted to give him a bit of encouragement and let him know how much she was enjoying what he’d written so far. As he had pointed out, Drew excelled at procrastination. Being his editor must be an exercise in frustration. Drew also had a tendency to get depressed and withdraw when things weren’t going well. Maybe her e-mail could do a little to buoy his spirits.
The next day, Beth stopped by the dealership to say her final goodbye to the ugly purple thing and her lease payments. Afterward, she sat in the parking lot enjoying the beautiful weather. Here in the desert, it was a glorious sunny day with temperatures in the high sixties. Meanwhile, according to the weather reports, it was snowing in Alpine Grove. Beth was delighted to be missing that.
She grinned happily at the Rincon Mountains and turned to look north at the Santa Catalinas. For the first time in an extremely long time, where she went and what she did was completely up to her. Patting the Acura’s steering wheel, she said, “How would you feel about a trip up to Windy Point, little car?”
Bark to the Future (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 5) Page 12