Too many memories, and now a new one. Would she believe he had nothing to do with the roses, except delivering them? Who was her secret admirer? How he would love to know.
When he got back to his shop, he decided to call the credit card company. He could do that as a proprietor. They could give him more information.
“What?” He put the phone down. He was more confused than ever. The name on the card was a woman’s. Did a woman have a secret admiration for Noelle? Aw, there was another name on the card, the co- holder of the card. Bruce Walker, the recently new principal of Vista del Mar High School. Maybe Noelle was in love with him. Maybe that’s why she cancelled her wedding. But then he remembered the yellow bruise on her wrist when she had looked at her watch the day she fainted. From Bruce, or from her former fiancé?
~
Noelle looked around in confusion. Mandy Smith who was longing to be a teacher’s pet, jumped up. As she raced to the door, her blonde ponytail swinging like its namesake, she announced, “I will find a vase, a big vase, Ms. Day.”
Noelle nodded mutely. She searched the enormous bouquet for a card, but found none. To be sure she stuck her hand down the middle of the roses and came up empty. They were glorious, such a delicate pale pink. Mandy raced back into the room holding a very large ordinary looking container.
“It’s not exactly a vase, Ms. Day, but it’s all Mrs. Beasley could come up with.” The teen paused, then added. “They are so beautiful, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you put them in, it will be dwarfed by their opulence.” Mandy marched to her desk, straightened her too short skirt and slid gracefully into her seat.
Dwarfed? Opulence? Where did this child get those sophisticated words? Not from Shakespeare. Maybe she should start giving spelling tests again. But, to twelfth graders? She rubbed the side of her nose to ponder that thought. Well, why not? Sure, they all used spell check now on their laptops, but did they truly understand the meanings of the words? Maybe a spelling test with descriptive meanings. Not multiple choice.
~
Today was the last day before Winter Break (why couldn’t the PCs call it by its proper name, Christmas Break?), so at least she wouldn’t have to face all the teachers, staff and the insufferable principal for two weeks. By now, they all knew she had cancelled the wedding, or at least would know by tomorrow’s mail when the un-announcement cards showed up.
Noelle had to pass through the front office to reach her car. Not only was she still burdened with her laptop, heavy purse and tote bag, but now with a container overflowing with pink roses. She knew there would be questions, and she dreaded them. Hopefully, Mrs. Beasley, The Busy Bee, as the teachers called her because she was into everyone’s business, would be on a long phone conversation. No such luck.
Busy Bee waved her hand to stop Noelle, then hung up her phone. The woman couldn’t resist prying. Noelle decided to jump ahead of her. “Thank you so much, Mrs. B. for giving my student a container for the flowers. That was very nice of you to help her out.”
“Oh.” Busy’s hand went to her throat. “Least I could do. Glad I had one.”
Noelle made a swift getaway. Waving her elbow because she had no free hand with all her luggage and the flowers, she cheerily called, “Have a blessed Christmas.”
The older woman nodded. “You, too.” But, her mouth formed an O, most likely to ask who the flowers were from. Noelle pretended not to notice and zoomed out the door pushing it with her shoulder so she wouldn’t spill anything.
Whew! Made it! She popped open her trunk from the remote on her key fob and felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she swung around and found herself in the grasp of a big man’s arms. Bruce Walker!
“Mr. Walker! Please let me go.” She prayed her voice was strong enough to make the message clear. Very clear.
Instead of releasing her, he kept his arms lightly around her. “Did you like the flowers?”
Noelle had never reacted this way to anyone before, but without thinking, she spit in his face. OMGosh. Bruce Walker’s face.
“I guess I deserved that.” Her principal said.
She didn’t reply; instead, rushed to her car door and jumped in turning the key in the ignition. Her hands trembled as she tried to maneuver the seat belt to click and backed out of her parking space without looking for cars on either side. She pressed the pedal to the metal (a common flip remark her students said), swung around almost missing Bruce Walker who jumped slightly off to the side. Looking back in the rear view mirror, she saw him standing with arms at his side and head bowed.
Chapter Six
Noelle pulled into an empty parking spot at her condo and slammed the breaks so hard her little car rocked. She pushed the button on the door to pop the trunk open, took a deep breath, shimmied out of her seat and bee-lined to the rear of the BMW. This had not been a good day.
The last day before Winter Break was supposed to be uplifting, fun and hold promise. The only really good thing that had happened to her was the roses … until she learned who they were from. And, in the parking lot yet.
She tried to swallow the acrid taste in her mouth from her encounter with Bruce Walker. Had she really spit on him? In his face no less? So unlike her; she really wasn’t all that brave, but maybe having the courage to break off with Clay … She shook her head to clear the nasty memories, both of Clay and Bruce. He would probably write her up for the spitting incident. It would go on her permanent record and follow her everywhere for the rest of her career – to every school, every job she would ever interview for. Well, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. Her self- worth was more important than a notation on a written piece of paper.
Rubbing her arm again, she hefted all her stuff from the trunk of her car and slammed it shut hard. She tromped to her condo door. All of her stuff, bags and purse and tote, hung from her left arm. Just as she was fumbling in her purse for her key to unlock the security screen door, she tripped on something. Something big.
What was the Christmas wreath she’d hung on the inner door doing on the entry floor? She checked the screen. It was still locked securely. But, how? Someone must have made a copy of her door key. Who would do such a thing?
Clay? But, she’d never given him one. Still, he could have sneaked it from her purse one time when they were in Home Depot and quickly had it copied. Surely, she would have noticed.
Braydon the floral guy would have had the opportunity when she’d collapsed in his arms at the hotel. But, he wouldn’t have known much about her then, so why would he do that?
She inserted the key in the security door lock. It swung open easily. Looking back at the wreath on the floor of the cement stoop she shook her head. It was only a wreath, only a thing. Who placed it there she would figure out later. She was tired.
She kicked off her shoes and dropped all her gear on the floor next to them. Padding into the kitchen she grabbed a bottle of icy water from the fridge and guzzled it. The dreaded answering machine was blinking, and the little window on the console displayed 3. Maybe Mom just wanting to chat was one, but who could the other two be?
Feeling a bit more centered in her bare feet and cooled by the cold water, she pressed the button. “You have three new messages.” No kidding. I can read. Maybe she was still a bit irritated by the events of the day. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a notepad and pen just in case there was a number she needed to write down. But, who on earth would call whose number she didn’t know? Unless it was a sales pitch, and that she would delete.
“Hi, ‘No’.” Mom’s cheery voice sang her nickname from the answering device. “Thinking last day of school maybe you want to come to dinner to celebrate? Dad made his infamous,” chuckle, “chili. Tastes good to me, but he is never satisfied.” Before Mom hung up, she said, “Let me know. Love to have you.” Noelle heard a click, then the automated voice saying, “Message Number Two.”
“No … elle.” He dragged her name out. His voice made her stomach churn, and she set down the almost empty bottle of
water and clung to the side of the sink. She didn’t want to hear what Clay said and had the presence of mind to click to the next message. Not much better.
“Noelle, sweet Noelle,” Bruce Walker’s deep voice sounded as if he was trying to be kind and sensitive. Not so. She wasn’t sure which voice was more disgusting and upsetting, Clay’s or Bruce’s. Both were so phony.
She clicked off the machine, ignoring both messages, and called Mom to say she would love Dad’s chili tonight. With lots of onions and cheese.
~
Mom hugged her tight. So did Dad. She needed that.
“So, tell me about your last day at school before break.” Of course Mom was clueless. Should she share? Or, just say it was fine? She decided to be honest.
“Roses! How wonderful!”
“Not exactly, Mom. But, they were beautiful.” She paused, maybe a bit dramatically. “Until I threw them in the trash.”
Mom’s blank expression sought Noelle’s face.
Sipping her fizzy cranberry juice, Noelle explained about Bruce admitting to send them, and Braydon looking uncomfortable delivering them. And, Mrs. Beasley, Busy Bee, and her comments. The entire day tumbled out, including Mandy Smith rushing to secure a vase for the roses from Busy Bee. She decided not to share her spitting in Bruce’s face, though. That was over the top.
“Sounds exciting, Noelle. But, stressful.” Dad hadn’t a clue how stressful. Men!
Mom put everything in order and in perspective. She rounded the coffee table and slid next to Noelle on the sofa. Hugging her daughter, she said, “So sorry. So very sorry.”
They had intended to eat dinner in silence, but the football game between two famous colleges was on TV, and Noelle insisted he watch it. She hadn’t figured on volume up high, but, whatever. He had made the chili, and it was delicious. She added more onions.
~
Noelle stretched and snuggled into the covers loving the luxury of sleeping in. Saturday. No school, no obligations for two weeks. No students, no Bruce Walker.
She had turned off the phone ringer last night, but the annoying voice from the answering machine invaded her sleepiness. What?
“Noelle, are we still on for tonight, for dinner?” Bruce Walker’s ingratiating voice sounded syrupy. She had never agreed to dinner tonight, nor any other, with that despicable man. No matter he was her boss. The very thought of him made her mouth dry and sour. She would delete the message. No way would she return it.
She threw off the luxurious covers and stumbled to the shower. The pounding needles of hot water felt so good, rinsing away voices in her head and on her answering machine.
Today she and Mom would go antiquing and maybe stop at a few garage sales. Just for fun. Mom was always looking for some special little thing. Noelle was looking for peace.
Chapter Seven
“You would think the garage sales in Newport Beach would have great stuff,” Mom said. Her voice sounded sneery and exasperated.
Noelle smiled. “Maybe we should have gone to the consignment stores and the thrift stores in Santa Ana. We always find something good in them.”
She was about to lead Mom back to the car when she heard her name called. By a man. Turning abruptly, she saw the flower man, Braydon. What was he doing here?
Braydon rushed over to her. His arms were outstretched and a glowing smile spread across his handsome face. Noelle hadn’t realized how good looking he was because she had only collapsed in his arms in the hotel lobby and caught just a quick look when he apologetically delivered the flowers to her class room. Well, also when he backed into her car.
Wow! Blonde hair that threatened to sneak down his forehead, intense blue eyes that twinkled in the early sunlight, and a chiseled jaw defined his face. She caught her breath. Did she really want to engage this man in conversation?
Yes, she did.
Noelle raised her hand in a slight off-hand greeting. He wasn’t really an old friend, so she didn’t want to be effusive. Braydon rushed over to her and placed his hand gently on her arm.
“How nice to see you again, Noelle. You look radiant.” His smile beamed, and his blue eyes searched her face. They explored her eyes and remained there for a few seconds. Noelle shivered at his touch on her arm.
“Oh, it is cold this morning – finally, after such a hot summer.” He laughed lightly and turned toward Mom. “And, who is this lovely lady with you?”
Noelle tried to compose herself, and remembering her manners, she gestured between Braydon and Mom and introduced them.
“Mom, this is Braydon Lovejoy who rescued me when I passed out in the hotel lobby. He owns the Love In Bloom flower shop in Corona del Mar.” She hesitated, but pressed on. “He is the florist who was going to provide the Calla Lilies for … well, you know what.”
~
Braydon worried about Noelle’s reaction to his touch. She had shirked back immediately and rubbed her arm. He remembered the yellow bruise he’d seen on her wrist when she had passed out in the hotel lobby and he had lifted her onto the sofa there. Had someone abused her? If so, why had she allowed it?
He didn’t know much about abuse, but he had read a bit about it on the internet. Still, was he making an assumption? He hoped and prayed he was wrong. Noelle was a lovely girl, and from everything he knew about her she deserved respect. At least that. He couldn’t imagine anyone hurting her physically. But, how did she get that yellow mark on her wrist?
~
“What’s the matter?” Mom looked at her quizzically when they’d settled back in the rental car. Her red “baby” was in the body shop, the one that specialized in fancy foreign cars. At least it would be repaired by the end of school break.
“Oh, nothing. Not much, anyway.” Noelle felt very confused. What was it about Braydon that affected her? She was sure her heart was visibly pounding at the front of her tee shirt. And her hands shook on the steering wheel of the unfamiliar car. She hoped Mom wouldn’t notice.
“You like him?” The question hung in the air between them as Noelle started the car. “He seems like such a gentleman. Handsome, too. But,” she paused, “things and people aren’t always what they seem.”
“That I know. From experience.”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Let’s ditch the garage sales and run into the thrift shops in Santa Ana. K?”
Mom nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Maybe we’ll see something special, something we can’t resist.”
They spent a few hours traipsing from The Goodwill to The Salvation Army to the Saint Vincent de Paul shops. Nothing struck their fancy, but they had fun just being together – something they hadn’t gotten to do often when Noelle was engaged and making wedding plans.
Exiting the freeway at MacArthur Boulevard they realized they were starving and decided to stop for lunch at Tommy Bahama’s, one of their favorites, and eat outside on the patio. The salads were outstanding, and the patio was shaded by big umbrellas and warmed by heaters. With both their mouths watering they parked and jostled in line. Because there were only two of them, they were seated almost immediately while parties of four or more had to wait. They settled back in chairs under a heated umbrella.
“This is so nice.” Mom spread the thick cotton napkin on her lap.
“I agree. I especially love that although it’s busy, every table seems private and secluded.”
A jaunty server appeared to take their orders. Blue crab salad, their favorite.
“Would you like to start with a cup of soup?” he asked. “The crab bisque is divine. I know it’s a lot of crab, but both are so delicious.” He smiled and waited patiently for the women to decide.
They both loved seafood, especially crab, so they acquiesced. Noelle sighed, relishing in her time with Mom and her freedom from control. How, she wondered, had she ever succumbed to that? She had been raised a strong, independent woman by wonderful, loving parents. Had she been so desperate for the love of a man that she had almost given up her soul?
The two women sipped their raspberry iced tea in frosty glasses. The ambiance was perfect. Other diners chatted quietly. They were undisturbed. Until …
A shrill voice interrupted their reverie, and an imposing form hovered over them casting a shadow.
“Kerstin, Noelle, so nice to see you.” The syrupy voice dripped. Clay’s mother, Gladys, placed a hand on Noelle’s shoulder. Noelle shirked back and let out a gurgled cry.
“What’s wrong, dear?” She emphasized the word dear. “You having regrets about the breakup, Miss Fickle? Maybe you have second thoughts about what you let go.”
Noelle wanted to gag. She held her napkin up to her mouth and started to push back her chair. Kerstin slipped her hand under the tablecloth and squeezed Noelle’s knee while barely shaking her head. She didn’t think the other woman even noticed, she was so focused on being mean and derogatory. Gladys droned on about how Clay was moving forward happily – new job, new girlfriend – happy man. She gestured a lot, always had, and the diamond and precious stone bracelets on her wrists jingled together.
“Oh, you probably know his new love. I think you either went to high school together, or she may be a teacher at Vista del Mar.”
Noelle looked at her curiously after making a play of patting her lips with the napkin she’d almost choked into. Her first thought was That was fast. Her second was Poor girl. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the “new love’s” name, but if she did, she could at least pray for her. She would need it, lots of prayer.
As Gladys whined on, she realized the woman was dying to tell her the name. Of course, she couldn’t resist.
“Surely, you must know her. Melanie Carson. Her mother is married to the principal.”
Noelle coughed to abate almost gagging again. So, that letch was stepfather to a woman her age. That meant Bruce Walker was almost her parents’ ages. How disgusting.
Noelle's Christmas Wedding: Christian Contemporary Christmas Romance (The Candy Cane Girls Book 1) Page 3