Calleigh had her head down as she dug in her purse for Kleenex and looked up when she heard her name. “Dixon?”
Caiden gave them both a sloppy grin as he leaned with his head in his hands, elbows pressed against the countertop. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Four: Old Flames Reunited
Dixon stared at Calleigh as Calleigh stared at Dixon. Neither of them moved.
She looks exactly the same, Dixon thought. Better, actually.
He is exactly the same, Calleigh thought. I gave him that t-shirt.
The awkward silence between the two stretched as Dixon stood behind the counter clutching Calleigh’s credit card like a life line while Calleigh stood in front of the counter with both her hands in her purse, trying not to sneeze. Dixon darted around the counter and wrapped Calleigh in a we’re-friends-but-not-really-‘cause-we-used-to-be-more-and-I’m-happy-to-see-you-and-at-the-same-time-this-is-weird-and-I-don't-know-what-to-do-half-sorta-whole hug with their shoulders touching but their bodies two feet apart.
“Don’t mind me. Just slowly dying.” Caiden smacked his forehead against the countertop.
Calleigh gave Dixon a half-hearted pat on the back, her hand full of the Kleenex she had dug out of her purse. “It’s good to see you,” her voice a nasal whine as she tried not to further irritate her itching sinuses.
He released her and stepped back. They both shifted from foot-to-foot through the, “How are you’s?” and the stilted half-starts where neither of them really knew what to say.
Every ounce of nervous energy which had propelled Calleigh in her breakneck tear through Inverness drained away as they chatted. From out of left field, she said, “I’m staying at the Rock Arundel Preserve.” Why did I say that? Makes it sound like I want him to pop over sometime and do me.
That’s a bit posh for three weeks, was Dixon’s thought on the matter. Was there not a B&B available?
She smiled and nodded. Why did this have to happen today? I’ll back out of the conversation and we can try again tomorrow after I’ve bought a couple of sexy, killer outfits, spent a fortune on my hair, and had some sleep. I’ll just say, “We should get together sometime for coffee and catch-up. I’m free to…”
“Brilliant. Let’s go upstairs to the café.” Dixon beamed, his eyes glowed in the dusty light. You look fantastic. I have missed you so much.
Noooooooooo! I look like I was hit by a Mack truck, thought Calleigh. I want this to be perfect. “Don’t you have to work?”
Dixon shrugged his left shoulder. “I own the shop, so I think the boss will forgive me.”
“Go with God, my son.” Caiden held out the book and Calleigh’s credit card. “And take these with you.”
“You own this?” Shocked, her eyes wide at the thought anyone would admit to being responsible for this mess. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah,” Dixon nodded as he surveyed his kingdom. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Calleigh took a seat at a small bistro table next to the wrought iron rail which separated the mezzanine’s café customers from a twenty foot drop onto the floor below, and watched Dixon debate with a set of forty-plus twins who were dressed in perfectly matched outfits. The twins shared a glance, hard frown lines criss-crossing their brows, before the one on the right said, “Just this once.”
Dixon joined Calleigh at the table carrying two large cups of coffee and a plate full of sandwiches. “They don’t normally do sandwiches, but they made a one-time exception.”
“How can you tell them apart?” Calleigh asked.
“As far as I know, no one can. Everyone calls them ‘The Ladies’ and that suits them fine.”
A man in his twenties in a Harris tweed jacket with a newspaper tucked under his arm, lingered in front of the dessert trays, torn between the Bakewell tarts and the shortbread scones. He leaned forward at the waist, his nose close to the glass partition.
“Take your pick or shove off!” One of The Ladies growled.
He hastily snapped up a Bakewell tart and shuffled away down the counter to pay.
“They seems to be pretty a bit of a tough crowd.” laughed Calleigh.
Dixon leaned back in his chair smiling. ”Aw, they are sweethearts once you get to know them. With that he leaned in and said, “Tell me everything.”
***
What happened? You were going to write a novel, start your own magazine, do something with yourself. Where did that ambition go? Calleigh thought they both would have changed during the intervening years, but he seemed to have devolved. Though the thought did not rest well, knowing he did own his own business certainly counted for something; even if it was this place. Aren’t you ready for something more? A move into the corporate world? To write those novels you talked about maybe? A family?
You were going to be a math teacher. I understand wanting to do something else, but the oil business? Really? There has to be something better. Are you happy doing that? Dixon was startled to realize that his version of Calleigh –how he remembered her -had been left in the dust, only to be replaced by this semi-refined woman through whom he could only catch the occasional glimpse of the girl he once knew. And what’s with the fancy hotel? What happened to the girl who would have been happy staying in a hostel?
***
I’m still attracted to him though. Calleigh’s thoughts of needing perfection, the sexy, killer outfits or a better hairstyle drifted away as they talked, replaced by a long-missed feeling of just feeling like she was at home. The warm comfort of being in the presence of someone she could say anything to and express every thought in her head without worry. She didn’t even notice when she lowered her guard, or when her defenses disappeared. She just knew that after an hour with Dixon, she just felt incredibly open and free.
Am I attracted to the woman in front of me or the girl I used to know? Dixon smiled at Calleigh, hearing the thoughts in his head more than the words which flowed from her mouth. Both, he decided as he leaded forward across the table to be that much closer to her.
***
Caiden’s, “Sorry,” floated up to them from below when the overhead lights flickered.
Calleigh looked through the railing to see Caiden, The Ladies, and an elderly woman she had mistaken for a dedicated customer, all wearing their coats as they hovered by the front door. A glance at her watch told her it was 4:03 in the afternoon. Eyebrows drawn together in a moment of confusion before she remembered the shops of Inverness rolled-up the carpet and turned out the lights promptly at 4:00 PM. In an hour, the restaurants would start dinner service. Otherwise, Inverness had just closed for business.
“How about getting together Sunday?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. What am I doing, I didn’t come to Scotland to date. There was a nagging voice at the back of her head which asked, Then why did you come here?
Dixon’s head tilted to the right as he smirked. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said, “I’ve always enjoyed a Sunday. Seems a decent day of the week, as far as days go.”
“We could do something, maybe.” How incredibly vague can you be? He’s looking at you like you grew a second head.
“Sure. We can walk the river, have a ramble.”
“I’d like that. “ Calleigh stood. She pulled her coat off the back of the chair and ignored the four sets of eyes from the floor below as they scrambled to look anywhere other than at her.
They walked down the stairs. Before she stepped out of the building, she turned and hugged Dixon. Their bodies were close as she wrapped her arms tight around his back.
Both had bite their tongues, neither wanting to be the one who caved into sentimentality first by admitting how much each had missed the other.
***
The smell of soup and rotting paper had been forgotten during the hours she had spent with Dixon. Out on the street, the twin odors roared back. Ugh, I smell like burnt broccoli. I need another shower. And I may need to burn my coat.
The obviousness of her motivation in returning here hi
t her square between the eyes as she wandered back down Castle Street toward her hotel. Every building and every stone was a place she had been with Dixon. Her memories, as well as the feeling of home she had hoped to replicate by coming here were all tied to being here with him. It had cost her a mere $5467.85 to figure that out.
She felt weak, her arms and legs trembled in the same jittery twitch she would develop after too many energy drinks. Do I really want to do this all over again, or should I just leave the past in the past?
Phone in hand, she flicked through the screens until she found the train timetable she bookmarked. The Caledonian Express departed Inverness at 8:44 PM. She would be back in London by 8:30 the following morning.
Do I stay or do I go?
Chapter Five: Life Gets in the Way
Dixon stood shoulder-to shoulder with Caiden, both of them squeezed under the awning on the crowded pavement outside the pub. The great irony of the smoking ban was that it not only took the smoke out of the pub, but the people as well. Like the rest of Inverness, Dixon and Caiden preferred to stand outside and drink rainwater filled Strongbow than at the bar with three boring sods who found the ban to be "improving."
Caiden had only one thing on his mind. "Why are you freezin' your arse off in the rain with me and not eating something French with your long-lost love over at that posh hotel?"
"She's in a different league." Dixon had the pinched look of a man who bit into a lemon and found it not to his liking.
"They're all in a different league. Never stopped you playing."
"No, we were in the same league. Well, equivalent leagues anyway. Now she has her own team, buys the best players, and can watch the game from a centrally heated luxury box behind double-bloody-glazing while eating truffles and caviar hand-carried from Moscow by Russian supermodels. And doesn't care to keep that information to herself. But at the same time..."
"Aye, having a rich and beautiful woman on your arm would be a hardship. If I can help you out, mate..."
"Shut it. All I'm saying is that she's not the person I used to know." Dixon took a drink from his watered-down Strongbow and pulled a face, but did not let it stop him drinking.
“You’re not the same person either. How many people get a second chance at anything, much less a second crack at the one that got away?”
"She's only here for a few weeks"
"You could always try for a job at one of those big, shiny American chain bookstores, if it came to it.” Caiden took a swig of his drink. "God Almighty, that's awful."
“That’s the problem, I don't want to work for an American chain. I’d rather fail here than leave for money.”
“You might make enough money from selling the old place to do all right for a bit.” Caiden pulled a face as he choked down another mouthful of 75% rain and 25% Strongbow. "And you wouldn't be leaving for money, but to be with Calleigh."
“What about you, or Ms.Teasel, or The Ladies? Oh God, who in the world would take on The Ladies?”
“Fucked if I know, mate. None of us's exactly Waterstone’s material, ya’ know?”
***
Calleigh lay back against the down pillows in the middle of the hotel bed, legs stretched in front of her with her right ankle crossed over her left. Wrapped in the soft terry robe provided by the hotel, and the Sky box tuned to Dave for five continuous hours of Would I Lie to You and some show called QI was her new bliss. She had her cell phone on speaker so she could chat with Beverly while she surreptitiously nibbled on Cadbury Fingers.
"Oh, I don't have any illusions," crunch, crunch, crunch, "it can't go anywhere. Even if I ignore the fact he looked panicked every time I asked something simple like, how the business was going, he was wearing a t-shirt I gave him when we were in college.'" Crunch, crunch, crunch. "And I'm not going to have a fling with an old flame. Not worth it." Another Cadbury Finger was on its way to her mouth when she realized she was eating to quell her jangled nerves. The Cadbury Finger was dropped back in the package; the package chucked into the bin.
"Ugh. Who wants to deal with a Peter Pan? You've seen him, now you know you dodged a bullet. Think of all the things you would have missed out on. And all the things you don't want to give up. In the last two years we've had seven projects that came with 15 or 20% bonuses. Seven. Are you really ready to give it up for a guy in a ten year old t-shirt and a dirty bookstore?"
"There's also a café."
"Would you eat there?"
"God, no." Calleigh wanted nothing more than to get the Cadbury Fingers out of the bin. They were the only thing in there. How bad could it be? "Don't get me wrong, I really do value the relationship we had."
"Fair enough," said Beverly.
"I just don't want this to end badly." She blew out a breath through pursed lips and made her decision. "Right. I'll keep the plans we've already made, but make it clear he's stuck in the friend zone."
"Can you handle that? Seeing this guy again may be a huge mistake. Just leave it. Tell him something came up and you have better things to do in London. It could save you both a lot of heartache."
They chatted a bit longer, finally hanging up as the 8:00 PM episode of QI kicked off. Fifteen minutes into the banter of Alan Davies and Stephen Fry the room phone rang. She was half-tempted not to answer, but her paranoia that it could be something important won out. She was too well trained by her corporate bosses, she thought.
“It’s me. Dixon.”
“Hi?” She had not meant it to sound like a question. The urge to stuff her mouth with Cadbury Fingers was almost too much to resist. She could hear laughter and men’s voices in the background as he spoke.
“I need to make a run to a bookshop in Ullapool. Would you like to come along?”
Calleigh hesitated, biting her tongue as she thought about it. A walk around town was one thing, a cross country drive another. There was no escape if she decided she had made a mistake somewhere around Aultguish.
Dixon started to chew his thumb nail as the pause dragged on.
“Yes,” she said with her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers crossed.
“Brilliant!”
They hung-up after a brief negotiation was entered into and a compromise reached regarding pick-up time.
Calleigh’s stomach flipped with that stupid-giddy feeling she had not felt since going on her first date with the cute boy from her 10th grade Biology class.
She grabbed the package of Fingers out of the bin and polished off the box.
***
Dixon pulled a fist pump, hip thrust combo as he pocketed his mobile.
“Your look a right bastard when you do that,” said Caiden.
Chapter Six: Letting Love In
They had been in the car ten minutes when Calleigh tossed the friend zone policy out the window. It was replaced by the more vacation friendly policy of we'll see. We'll see was a much more flexible policy which included in its no-go parameters her hotel room and...well, mainly her hotel room, that was off limits. But she decided everything else was on the table. What else could be done in the face of a man who remembered how she took her tea ten years after the fact and had a cup waiting for her in the car? Her friend zone policy had not been built to withstand that kind of flanking maneuver.
Or that she finally felt like she had come home after ten years of aimless wandering.
Rolling green hills gave way to breath-taking bare juts of hard stone. The A835 was an easy drive through the rugged Highland country, which allowed them almost two hours to talk before they arrived in Ullapool.
Calleigh told stories of herself and the ridiculous things she had gotten up to over the past ten years. She explained moving between companies as the industry changed and companies came and went. They even talked about their most recent romantic failures.
“High Fidelity? The John Cusack movie?”
“Well,” Dixon’s head bobbed side-to-side as he hemmed and hawed, “the Nick Hornby thing, actually. But, yeah.”
Calleigh la
ughed. “Sorry,” she said, as she tried to control herself. “She left you over a book you didn’t write and because your flat smelled of soup?”
“Well, that was what she said, but it was more than that.”
“Like ten year old t-shirts and a lack of career mobility?”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the road. “Yeah.”
“Screw her then. Career mobility is overrated.”
He did not know how to take that as it came from the most traditionally successful person he knew, so he just let the thought simmer while the conversation moved on to other things.
***
The seaside fishing village of Ullapool, hemmed in as it is by Loch Broom and the mountains of An Teallach and Beinn Derg, was beautiful. From the moment she saw the whitewashed buildings which lined Shore Street, they called to her with their doors of red, blue and yellow.
By lunch they had fallen into their old patterns, as though ten days rather than ten years. They laughed as they talked through lunch; and held hands as they walked along Shore Street.
The bookstore was a tiny local place on a side street, crammed to the rafters with fresh, new titles, stationary, art supplies, and maps. The door was left open as people and their dogs wandered through, the carpet spotless to spite the constant traffic.
Dixon and she had stuffed themselves into an office carved out of a storage closet to drink bottomless cups of tea and chat with the owner about everything from the Scottish Referendum to National Book Tokens, before there was even a hint of business.
Then the owner shot to standing and said, "Well, come along then. I'll get you what you came for." He led them out of the office, and through the shop to the children's section, where he opened another closet door. This closet was packed with cardboard boxes full of used paperbacks.
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