She inhaled, throwing back her shoulders. “It’s time for me to live a little.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea. You should.” She’d mourned her husband for long enough, and I admired her courage in going out to the dating scene. But she couldn’t face the horde of horny men looking like that. I looked at for a long moment, wondering how to say it. I had to tell the truth. We were friends now, and that’s what friends were for.
“But before you go out there, ready to leave a slew of men lying broken at your feet, I have to tell you something.”
“Oh-oh.” Fran recoiled. “I don’t like the sound of this.”
“I lied about your hair. It’s God awful.”
“Oh, that. I thought it was something serious.” Fran ruffled her hair and threw up her arms. “So, what are we going to do about it?”
I grinned with relief that I hadn’t hurt her feelings. “My hairdresser will fix it. Let’s give her a call. She’s awesome with styling, too.”
While I went into the kitchen to look up the number, my phone rang. Before I answered, I checked caller ID. It was Jed. I didn’t pick up, not wishing to have any conversation with him, especially with my office manager around. Even though his ex had switched firms, it was still a touchy situation.
“Want me to get it?” I heard Fran call out.
“No. It’s nobody.”
A minute later, the message machine came on. “Lydia, its Jed. I’m worried about that home test you did. Someone I work with, one of the construction guys, he told me his girlfriend did that same test and the result was negative. The following month she didn’t have her period and guess what? Yeah, she was pregnant. So, it might be a good idea to do it again. Let me know how it turns out.”
Mortified, I lunged for the phone and hissed, “Are you crazy? Why would you leave a message like that? I have someone here.”
Silence. Then he asked, “A man?”
“That is none of your business.”
I was ticked when he started laughing. “Hey, let me speak to him. I’ll explain everything.”
“Get lost.” I hung up and entered the living-room. Fran was beet red and staring at the doorway between us.
“Oh, my God! Lydia, is that Jed Harrison? Are you having his baby?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“No, of course not. Me, pregnant? What a ridiculous idea.” I spoke more sharply than was warranted. “Not by anyone and especially not by Jed.”
I’m a really bad liar—like probably the worst ever. My ears grow red, my skin begins to prickle and I hyperventilate. I’d never make a living as a poker player.
“That’s good.” Fran either wanted to believe me or she didn’t read the signs. “That would be a bit awkward, all things considered.”
“To say the least.” I gave her a weak smile but couldn’t look her in the eye. “I don’t have the faintest idea what he’s talking about. Do you think he might have called me by mistake?”
“And used your name? Come on, Lyd, tell the truth. What’s going on?”
“Nothing much.” I sank into a chair and covered my face. After a few seconds I put my hands down. “Okay, you wanna know?”
Fran sank into a chair next to me, and this time it was her patting my hand. “Go ahead. Tell me everything.”
After telling Fran the entire story from start to finish, I rolled a chilled bottle of water over my hot face before taking a sip. “What if the EPT was incorrect, and I am pregnant?”
“You have options. And no matter what you decide, I’ll never say a word.”
“No…” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I don’t have any option. If I’m pregnant I will have the baby. I might be a lapsed Catholic and not even a very good one, but no way could I consider terminating the pregnancy.”
“I understand. I just don’t want this to jeopardize your career. You’ve worked hard for it.” Fran leaned forward, and her knees lightly brushed mine.
“I did nothing wrong.” My back stiffened. “It all comes down to “intent”, and I certainly didn’t have any.” Getting up, I went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses before sitting down again. “I refuse to be pregnant. It is not going to happen.”
As if to prove it, I took a big gulp of wine. “There, that’s all there is to it. Mind over matter.”
“I hope you’re right, but maybe you should stop drinking just in case.” At my frown, she added, “Or, maybe not.”
“Thank you. Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
Fran nodded. “Okay with me. So what are we going to do about my hair?”
“Saturday we’ll go to my salon. Somebody will fix it. Think about an easy style for you and a nice, natural color. Maybe a lighter brown than your natural shade, with a few blonde high-lights.”
“Sounds good, Lyd.” She patted her hair and smiled her gap-toothed smile. “I’m so glad we became friends.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
Two days later I was enjoying a manicure and pedicure while Fran went from marmalade to wheat. She had insisted on going blonde against the advice of Bruce, the color specialist, and now her brittle hair looked like straw. To try to minimize the damage Bruce applied an intensive moisturizer which was dripping all over her sweaty face.
Grinning cheerfully, Fran yelled out to me. “I’m going to love being blonde. It’s true they have more fun.” Winking at the voluptuous stylist behind her, she asked, “Tell me the truth. Am I going to have to beat them off with a stick?”
“Without a doubt. I’d get two sticks if I were you,” the young girl replied.
Fran howled. “Did you hear that, Lydia? I’ll need two sticks. Ha!” She dabbed moisturizer off her brow. “What about you, Lydia? Want to live dangerously like me?”
I pointed to my neck. “I’ll have to pass. This is still not right.”
“I always knew you were a little kinky.” Fran yelled from under the dryer.
Bruce sashayed over and turned Fran’s dryer off, catching her mid-holler.
“Oops! Was I talking loud?” she asked.
Bruce winced. “My dear, my poor eardrums will never recover.”
I nodded. “The people on the street took cover.”
“Oh, well.” She followed Bruce’s rolling hips to the sink and sank in, leaning her head well back for the final wash. “I only said you were a little kinky. The emphasis was on the little.”
Laughing, I made a face.
Fran emerged from the sink with a towel wrapped around her hair. Sitting in front of the stylist’s mirror, she waited for the towel to be unwrapped to see the result. When she saw the golden wheat on top of her head she grinned and posed.
“I look just like Britney Spears.”
“Her double,” I teased. “The paparazzi will be chasing you down the street.”
Bruce clucked like a mother hen. “Let me go to work. Your hair needs,” he groped for words, “style, shape.” He ruffled it with his fingers and yellow strands fell out. “Dahling, I think you should go short.”
“Short?”
“It’s either that or bald.”
“I’ll take short,” Fran said firmly.
Smiling and snapping his shears, Bruce said, “It will be fabulous on you.”
As I waited for Fran, the fumes of the salon started to get to me. I sipped on some water and read a magazine to take my mind off it, but after about ten minutes my queasiness got worse.
“I’m just going outside to get some fresh air.” Out on the sidewalk I breathed in deeply, and felt my stomach lurch. I barely made it back inside to the ladies room before I lost my breakfast.
When I returned to the reception area, Bruce said, “Almost done. Have a cup of coffee and one of our almond biscotti. They’re to die for.”
Almond biscotti did sound good, but my stomach refused to settle. I took a cup of water instead.
“Voila!” Bruce exclaimed with a flourish. “Come take a look.”
I wal
ked into the next room and saw Fran beaming at her reflection in the mirror. Her new short bob looked wonderful, but it was the smile that turned her from plain to pretty.
“Woo-hoo!” I clapped. “Miss America.”
She laughed and Bruce took his bows. “Lydia, you could use some work. When are you going to allow me to cut your hair?”
“Stop asking me that. You know I don’t want to mess with it. I can stick it in a pony-tail or up in a French roll. Simple and easy.”
“But with your bone structure…”
I blew him a kiss. “Thank you, Bruce sweetie. But one miracle at a time.”
Fran was removing the smock when I gave Bruce an extra twenty dollar bill. “Thanks for squeezing her in. You’re the best. I promise, when I’m ready, I’ll let you do me.”
He laughed. “If only I were into girls.”
“I want to show off my new do.” Fran whispered, slipping her arm into mine.
“I know just the place. The Candy Bar.”
But as soon as I walked in I knew it was a mistake. The nausea hit me at once.
“Fran, I’m so sorry, Sweetie, but I can’t do this. I think I’m coming down with something. I’ve been feeling crappy all day.”
She tried to mask her disappointment but I saw right through it, and it made me feel even worse. “That’s okay, you do look a little pale, actually.” She studied my face. “You never get sick. Maybe your body can’t handle the down time from vacation. Its happiest going full steam ahead.”
“You’re probably right.” Her intense, Mother Hen scrutiny made me feel uncomfortable. “Sorry. We’ll do it another time, I promise. Can you get home okay?”
“I’ll call a cab. I might stay a while,” Already her toe was tapping at the sound of a band warming up. “I’ve never been to a bar. Alone, that is.”
We gave each other a little hug; she said she’d call me later, and then I dashed home. The moment I got in the door, I ran to the toilet and threw up. Smells were driving me crazy. I could smell the salt in the ocean air, the hairspray I’d used that morning. My own perfume was making me ill.
I washed and rinsed my face and put my pajamas on. Then I cuddled up under a blanket to watch TV, but I felt so tired I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it though the early news. I hadn’t had the flu for years. I guess I was due.
* * *
The following morning I still didn’t feel well. I made myself a light breakfast, a poached egg over a piece of whole wheat toast, and tea. I only got half off it down when the queasiness started. I wasn’t feeling the usual symptoms of flu, although I knew it was going around. I didn’t have a fever or feel achy; it was just a stomach virus. After I got dressed I headed over to Walgreen’s to get something to settle my stomach.
I looked through the ca-zillion types of medicines that promised relief, read the labels carefully, and decided on brand X. I picked up some Midol too, in case that was the problem, and on impulse, just in case, picked up an EPT double pack. Back in my apartment, I put the EPT pack in the bathroom under the sink, and returned to the kitchen. I took the medicine to settle my tummy, and, within half an hour, I started to feel better.
So that was it then. It was probably something I ate the other day. Maybe the chicken had been sitting in my fridge too long. It had been mold free, but I guess you never know.
The afternoon flew by. I had an appointment with a client and a lot of paperwork to catch up on. Fran called to ask how I was, and I told her fine.
“Were you sick this morning?” she asked.
“Yes, I couldn’t keep my breakfast down.”
She said in a loud whisper, “You’re pregnant.”
I gulped, imagining her hiding out in the files closet at work. “No, it’s just a stomach virus. I took something and it settled my tummy. I’m fine. Probably a twenty-four-hour thing.”
Fran answered, “Probably a nine month thing, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t. Fran, can anyone hear this conversation?” I was thinking about Marcia. If she got word…
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Good. I’m sure it’s just the flu.”
“Lydia, go see a doctor. You need to know one way or the other, and as soon as possible. What if?”
“Stop it. My life is on track. I am not, you know… I can’t be, okay?”
“Have you talked to Jed since the telephone call?”
Fran was going to mother me to death if I didn’t put a stop to it. “No. I don’t need Jed.” I’d become adept at avoiding his calls, and staying clear of his car in the parking lot. Once again, I’d picked the wrong guy. The wrong time, the wrong place.
“Lydia!” Fran’s voice was loud enough to go through office walls.
I grumbled to shut her up more than anything. “Okay, okay, I did buy another EPT kit. If it’ll make you happy I’ll go right now and try it out. It’s been five weeks since Jed and I—you know…did it. That’s plenty of time to get a correct reading. If it comes out negative again, that’s the end of it.”
* * *
I’m a big believer in willpower. Like for instance, if you worry about waking up with a zit on your face, you can be sure it’ll be there in the morning. Likewise, I believe you can change the outcome of something with the power of positive thinking. I also had an idea.
I called Candy at home, thinking there was still a chance I could reverse the outcome if I had all the facts.
“Hey, Candy, it’s me, Lydia. I’m doing fine but I just had something to ask you. Remember about a month ago when I was at the bar drinking champagne with a friend and she brought a guy over to the table?”
“Sure, I remember. What about it?”
“Something happened that night. You clapped your hands and said, “magic is in the air”. Do you remember that?”
“Of course I do. Tell me. What’s happened?”
“Oh, nothing.” I played it cool. “At least I don’t think so. But I did wonder what you meant by magic.”
“You know—the usual kind. I started noticing things after I bought the place and did a little background search, investigating the history.”
I heard her take a puff from her cigarette before continuing. “The Candy Bar sits on an ancient Indian burial site, and this is the part that gets weird—some nights, usually during a tropical storm, the lights begin to flicker and the brick wall sweats.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Call me crazy, but I think there really is magic in the air on those nights, and I have reason to believe it.”
“Like what?” Please don’t tell me women get pregnant. I don’t wanna hear it.
“Oh, let me see. One of the girls who used to work for me…” I held my breath in fear of her next words, “won the lotto the following week, but here’s the key, she told me the numbers came to her the night the magic happened.”
“No kidding?”
“Aha. And let’s see what else.” She thought for a moment and then giggled. “Robbie, my gorgeous, hunky bar-tender, met the man of his dreams.”
“Anything else?”
“Uh-hum. I’m just getting started. There was a girl who used to come in often, always looking for Mr. Right, and she met him during one of the storms. They’re married now, and she’s expecting her second baby.”
I swallowed hard. “What if you were there and you didn’t wish for anything? Could something happen—something you didn’t want, not in your wildest dreams. Could it happen anyway?” I knew I sounded like an idiot but I didn’t stop. “Maybe somebody next to you was doing the wishing, and the magic got transferred to the wrong person.”
Finally, I laughed at myself. “I sound like a dope who watches too much TV.”
“Its okay, Lydia. When we get confronted by something so out of the norm, we tend to be skeptical. I’m sorry to say I don’t know how the magic works. But I think you’d probably have to have the thought in your head. But, hell, what do I know? It hasn’t happened to me yet.”
�
��Can you conjure up the magic? I might have to reverse something if it can be done.”
Candy laughed long and hard, but I didn’t think it was very funny. “Good try, kid. I think once it’s done, it’s done.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I checked the weather forecast and knew my luck was changing. Thunder showers were forecast for late afternoon and early evening. I stepped out on the balcony and was happy to see the menacing black sky and the gusty wind picking up. The ocean had turned from blue to a dull grey, while the whitecaps soared and swirled angrily, then beat against the shore. It looked like one hell of a nasty storm. Perfect.
Not sure how these mysterious things work, I wanted to take no chances. On the spur of the moment I decided to ask Jed if he’d go with me to the Candy Bar. Within a quarter of an hour I was knocking on his door.
He opened up and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Hey, what’s up?” He took in my appearance and smiled with appreciation. I was wearing a low cut dress in a periwinkle color that looks fabulous on me. “Wow. Want to come in?”
“Not really. I was going to ask you out.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “You were? After avoiding my calls? Now you’re suddenly at my door, asking me to go out? Why do I get the funny feeling that it’s not because you enjoy my company?”
“I have no idea.” I jutted my hip slightly to the left, showing off the curve of my waist and long legs. I know how to go after what I want, and I wanted Jed, with me, at the Candy Bar during a storm. Hopefully with a little magic I could still undo the mess I was in.
“I’m going to the Candy Bar. If you remember, the night we met was a little like this.”
He wasn’t buying. “Yeah. So? I know you’re not the sentimental type.” He gave me the once-over. “So kiddo, what do you really want?”
My lips twitched. Jed was smart. Too smart to be played for a fool. “Hey, don’t make me spoil the surprise.” I hooked my arm in his. “Say you’ll come with me, and I promise I’ll tell you later why I asked.”
I knew from the spark in his eyes I’d captured his curiosity.
The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series Page 10