*****
Once inside the haven of her home, Ava leaned against the closed front door, eyes closed and face upturned. Her breath came out in heavy, ragged gasps. Either it had been too long since she’d last been kissed, or Hilton White had affected her in a way no other man had. A loud buzz of warning went off in her head, reminding her that she had no right to be so interested in Hilton or in any man. His sudden and unexpected appearance in her life aroused all the feelings of inferiority that had plagued her for so long. She had to find out about his personal life. That was the key to whether or not there was any possibility at all…
She declined to complete the thought, too accustomed to the disappointment she had experienced with every new relationship to even hope such a thing could be conceivable.
*****
Sunday dawned clear and seasonably chilly. Ava got into grubby but comfortable gray sweat pants and a matching sweatshirt, lit the fireplace in her bedroom and pulled out her year-end folder of receipts and tax records. It was time to begin the organization process to file her tax returns. This way by the time the final filing version of the computer tax program she used was delivered in January she would be prepared to input her information and increase her self-employed retirement contribution, if necessary.
It was a big job and took nearly two hours. When she was done she reached for the remote control, content to simply relax and watch some TV.
She recognized the movie The Witches of Eastwick playing on a syndicated network. The sly character Jack Nicholson was playing was seducing Michelle Pfeiffer. “I warn you, I get pregnant,” she was saying.
Ava made a face and changed the channel. She stopped at one of the cable entertainment networks, which was running an interview with a well-known actress whose career had sadly descended to becoming a poster child for plastic surgery, in which she was discussing a woman’s right to choose. The actress declared she was pro-choice but added, “If I didn’t have my children, my life would be…maybe not meaningless, but awfully empty.”
Ava blew out her breath and changed channels a second time. She settled on a documentary profiling the Boston Strangler. Surely with that there wouldn’t be any comments like the ones she’d just heard.
Or so she thought. One of Albert DeSalvo’s former prison mates was being interviewed, and as he recalled his distaste for the convicted killer, citing the large number of his victims and adding indignantly, “Some of them were mothers!”
Ava sucked her teeth and said a choice phrase aloud, although there was no one around to hear it. She resisted the urge to put her foot through the television screen, knowing she’d only regret such recklessness when she calmed down. She settled for carefully aiming the remote control at the man who was talking and clicking on the power button. Instantly the man’s image faded to black. The action satisfied her need to express her frustration in a violent manner—like firing an imaginary gun—but his inane comment lingered in her mind. It was attitudes like that that made her feel that in the eyes of the world she was worthless. Not that the man meant it would have been all right if the strangler only killed women without children, but he obviously felt that a mother’s life was worth more than that of a childless woman. Nor did Ava need to be reminded of how easy pregnancy was for some women, or how empty her life seemed without a family of her own…
She bit on her lower lip, closed her eyes for a few moments and counted to ten in an attempt to calm down. Every now and then she got the distinct feeling her strength was being tested, and this was one of those times.
She decided some fresh air would make her feel better. Maybe she’d drive over to the mall and do some speed walking. Heck, if she could sit here and watch all these depressing comments on television, dealing with the mall, with its Christmas decorations, Santa Claus and holiday music, would be a snap. While she was there she would treat herself to a big salted pretzel and honey sauce after she’d taken her walk. She put out the fire and dressed in jeans and a jacket.
It was especially crisp outside, which many people said made it seem more Christmas-like. Ava had seen pictures of Christmas in cool, snowy climates like Vermont, all picturesque and postcard perfect. She’d even seen it firsthand, the time she spent a long weekend in January with her boyfriend of the moment in the mountains of Tennessee. It was different, but as a native of Florida she was accustomed to warmer holiday seasons. The temperature occasionally dipped into the forties in Northeast Florida and below freezing at night for a few days at a time, but this was the coldest December she remembered. Whatever happened to that global warming environmental experts were warning about? The mercury had stayed below average for a week, and even the streets were deserted. Apparently others also felt it was uncomfortably cold.
But then again, she thought as she drove up row after row of the mall parking lot in search of a parking space, maybe no one was on the streets because they were all here, doing their last minute Christmas shopping.
The scene never changed from year to year, she thought as she surveyed the crowd. Purses and parcels tightly clutched, a dozen people waiting on line to use the ATM, awful piped-in Muzak Christmas carols, a Salvation Army bell-ringer, just general pandemonium.
Ava traditionally did not do her Christmas shopping until Christmas Eve, when she felt the most festive. She disliked the merchants who tried to force the gaiety on consumers in early November, immediately after they took down their Halloween decorations. She viewed Christmas as a spiritual celebration, far removed from the self-centered holidays of her childhood, when she was more concerned with what was inside the gaily wrapped packages under the tree that had her name on them. The meaning of the holiday was practically lost in her eagerness, but Ava knew it was all part of being a child. Those were the perfect years, when she had no idea about the disappointment and pain that lay ahead…
Her mood threatened to turn melancholy, but she chuckled at the sight of a middle-aged man emerging from Victoria’s Secret, carrying two small bags with the store’s logo, one in each hand. She thought it odd that his purchases were in two different bags. When a glance at his left hand revealed a glint of gold on the ring finger, she suspected one bag contained something pretty, if not overtly sexy, for his wife—like a bathrobe—and the other a wispy, barely-there gift for the other woman in his life. Shame on him.
The traditional Santa’s workshop was set up in the center of the aisle near one of the exits. Ava paused to look at the long line of youngsters who waited for their turn at spending a few minutes on Santa’s lap. Her heart began to thump in her chest at the sight of them.
Facing her infertility was the most difficult thing she had ever had to do, and although she knew in her heart that both physicians she had consulted spoke the truth about her slim chance of ever becoming pregnant. The inability to conceive a child had changed the direction of her life. She had ended her marriage, unable to forget the look of raw, unadulterated disappointment in her former husband’s eyes when they were informed of her dismal diagnosis. Since then she had put her energies into entrepreneurship. For years she didn’t date at all. She felt it wouldn’t be fair to present herself as potential marriage material to unsuspecting men when she knew her flaw, as she referred to it, made that impossible.
It had been nearly a decade since she learned the devastating news, and the passage of time, as time tended to do, had made acceptance easier. After the divorce she opened a small bridal shop and threw herself into her work, eventually expanding it to include wedding planning. She cautiously began to date again when she reached her thirties, but allowed each relationship to peter out after a month or two, and earlier than that if the man of the moment happened to mention that he eventually wanted to settle down and have children. She wasn’t marriage material, and she knew it.
Ava shut her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply to try to resolve the ache in her heart. It didn’t quite do it—but then again it never did, though she knew from years of trying that at least it helped—then c
ontinued walking without looking over at the children again.
A commotion broke out up ahead, in the area where there was a break in the storefronts for mall exits on each side. A woman cried out something unintelligible, followed by “Stop!” Within seconds a brown-skinned child wearing a navy blue jacket and a dark baseball cap was making a beeline for the door.
Ava gasped. She only caught a glimpse of the boy—she was still about four or five stores away—but he was about Marcus’s size and complexion, and the dark waist-length jacket and baseball cap fit the profile, to say nothing of the activity. As the saying went, if it looked like a duck, walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, then it must be a duck.
She rushed to the bank of glass doors at the exit. There was no sign of Marcus anywhere. That was a pretty nervy stunt, Ava thought. Security was beefed up at the mall at this time of year. All it would take was one strong bystander to grab him and turn him over to the police.
He’d certainly managed to disappear in a hurry, she thought as she took one last lingering look toward the left, the right, and finally straight ahead. Where had he gone?
*****
Ava walked through the mall in the same direction from which she had come, heading toward the exit where she had parked. The heartache that had brought her to the mall in the first place seemed frivolous next to her concern for Marcus. The thought of such a sweet-natured child turning into a career criminal made her feel ill.
While she managed not to bump into anyone as she walked through the crowd, lost in her thoughts, the other shoppers and the bustling mall activity faded into a big blur.
Had Ava not been so preoccupied with thoughts of Marcus she would have spotted Hilton coming out of the toy store, laden with packages.
Chapter 5
“I can’t tell you how much Danny and I appreciate your organizing our wedding for us, Ava,” Vicky said. She, Kendall and Ava sat at Ava’s kitchen table early on Monday evening, feasting on take-out Chinese food, in what would be one of their last get-togethers before Vicky’s wedding. Vicky and her fiancé lived in North Carolina, but they were holding their wedding in her hometown of Nile Beach.
“Don’t be silly. I do this all the time; there’s nothing to it. As the bride you shouldn’t have to worry about a thing. After all, you’re only going to do this—” Ava broke off, realizing her mistake.
“It’s okay, you can say it. Twice,” Vicky replied good-naturedly. “It’s okay. Divorce is rough, but at least I got a beautiful daughter out of it.” Vicky gasped. “Oh, Ava, I’m sorry. What a tactless thing for me to say.”
“What’s with you two? Can’t y’all keep your feet out of your mouths?” Kendall teased as Ava assured Vicky it was all right. “Besides,” Kendall added with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Ava might be doing the marriage thing twice herself.”
“She might?” Vicky asked.
“I might?” Ava repeated, wide-eyed.
Kendall scowled Ava’s way. “You know what I’m talkin’ about.”
Ava rolled her eyes.
Vicky put down her fork. “Well, will somebody please tell me what it’s about?”
“Sure,” Ava said. “Here’s the deal. I met this man Friday night at a party at Catherine Moore’s house. He gave me a ride home when my car broke down and was thoughtful enough to come pick me up at the shop on Saturday because he knew my car wasn’t working. Kendall ran into us and invited us to come to the Sundowner that night, so we did. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since, but apparently this is enough for Kendall to predict a wedding.” She glared at her friend in a manner only partly playful; she actually felt a tad annoyed.
But Kendall seemed unfazed. “You left out the part about how the two of you were glowing while you were dancing Saturday night. It reminds me of the way Spencer and I were the first time we danced together. I didn’t know him well then, either. Shucks, it was our first date, too. The man had come to town to put me out of business, for heaven’s sake.” Spencer, like Kendall, was a restaurateur, and he had come to town specifically to open a soul food restaurant that would be in direct competition with Kendall’s. Now that they were married they combined their resources and operated their establishments jointly. “Who’d believe we’d end up married a year later?”
“Your friend sounds intriguing, Ava,” Valerie said. “Why don’t you bring him to the wedding?”
“Ooh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Kendall exclaimed.
Ava incredulously looked at one friend, then the other. “Have the two of you lost your minds? No, I will not bring Hilton to the wedding. I just met the man. I really don’t know anything about him. Inviting him to a wedding is not appropriate.” She decided to poke fun at Kendall’s situation with Spencer. “He could be planning to open a really snazzy bridal shop and lure away my customers, for all I know.”
The three of them burst out laughing, and they returned to lighthearted chatter and gossip, just longtime friends enjoying a meal, like they had done so many times in the past.
Ava didn’t think twice about it when the doorbell rang. She got to her feet as quickly as she could, which wasn’t all that fast because she’d consumed two shrimp rolls and generous helpings of beef and broccoli, lobster egg foo yung, sweet and sour chicken, and spare ribs. Because of the relatively early hour and because she was not alone in the house, she opened the door without first looking through the curtains, but left the chain on.
Hilton stood on the other side of the door, his massive frame blocking the view beyond.
Ava made no attempt to conceal the smile that immediately formed on her lips. “Hi! Just a minute; I want to undo the chain.” She closed the door and slid the chain out of its holder, then opened the door wide.
“Hi. Here I am, Husband For Hire at your service.” He held up his tape measure.
Ava’s hand flew up to the side of her face. “It’s Monday, isn’t it? Hilton…I completely forgot!”
“Is this a bad time?”
She glanced inside the house. “Well—”
Ava’s response was interrupted by Kendall, who approached from behind, stopping a few yards away. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Oh, hello, Hilton.”
“How’s it goin’, Kendall?”
“Pretty good, thanks. Oh, I’m glad I saw you. Spencer and I are having a few people over for a tree-decorating party Christmas Eve. It’ll be an early evening, from six-thirty to nine. Ava has the address. Hope to see you, if you can make it.”
“Thanks for the invite, Kendall. I’m not sure if I can make it, but I’ll get the address just in case. I’m driving up to Augusta for the holidays, and I’ll probably be on the road by five.”
“Well, we’d love to have you if you can make it.”
“Thanks.” He raised his hand in salute as Kendall retreated to the kitchen, then turned his attentions to Ava with an intimate smile. “Don’t worry about forgetting. It’s no big deal. People always get caught up in the holidays. Why don’t we just do it another time? If we can’t get together before I leave, I’ll come by the shop when I get back into town.”
When will that be? she wanted to know. But she had to follow his lead, and he wasn’t offering any information. It surprised her at how disturbing she found it not to know how long he would be gone. “Sure,” she said.
“How’d you make out with your car?”
“It made me glad I bought a policy to cover repairs,” she replied with a smile. Her mechanic had called first thing that morning and informed her that the transmission on her car was shot. It had always been a bit jerky at times, so she was careful to have it serviced at the recommended intervals so the insurance people couldn’t refuse to pay the claim if it gave out. They told her it would be ready on Friday, since they were taking a few days off for the holiday. “I’m using a rental. The insurance pays for that, too.”
“Was it the transmission?”
“You got it.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for coming by, Hilton. Again, I
’m sorry I forgot.”
“No problem.”
“If I don’t see you, you have a safe trip.”
“Thanks. And Merry Christmas.”
Hilton leaned in just a tad as he spoke, and Ava’s spine automatically straightened. Afraid she would forget herself and step into his arms, she wanted to keep the distance between them intact…and impersonal. What she didn’t realize was that in her defiance she raised her chin, as if she expected to be kissed.
Her shoulders sagged in disappointment when he turned to leave. “The same to you,” she called after him. She stood in the doorway watching as he walked down the short walk in front of her house, retreating before he walked around to the driver’s side and could see her standing there wearing an expression of what she knew was unabashed hunger. Hilton White pressed all her buttons and set her pulse racing. The mere sight of him was all she needed to think about was how he’d kissed her senseless two nights ago…and how she longed for more of the same.
“That was Hilton,” she announced when she joined the others.
“The mystery man,” Vicky said. “I heard from Kendall. I wanted to come out to look, but I didn’t want to be too obvious.”
“Unlike some people I know,” Ava said, with a meaningful glance Kendall’s way.
“Don’t get salty, Ava. All I did was invite him to our tree-trimming.”
“So why didn’t he stay?” Vicky asked. “We’ve got plenty to eat.”
“Don’t take this personal, but it was because you guys are here.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Kendall demanded, practically shrieking. “We’d’ve left!”
“It’s not that big a deal.” Ava explained about the estimate and that they planned to discuss it after he returned to town.
“So he’s a carpenter, huh?” Vicky commented. “I’ll bet he’s handy to have around the house.”
A Love of Her Own Page 5