The audience laughed.
“That’s why I never came before tonight, was afraid to meet people like Nathan here.”
That caught the young man’s attention, and he stood up and waved. Everybody laughed louder as he grinned and hammed it up, bowing, until the woman next to him said a quiet word and tugged him down.
“Not because he was different,” Mason continued. “But because I was. And I started Camp for Kids because I wanted a place where they could feel, not different, but special.”
The audience clapped and he went on. He had more to say. “A very, ah, extraordinary woman told me once that there are some people who are so evolved they can go on to heaven or Nirvana or whatever…graduate, I guess…”
The audience laughed.
“But sometimes one of those people doesn’t go on. Instead, they come back here, to Earth, so we can all learn from them. And those people are special. Special.”
More than a hundred pairs of eyes watched him, waited for what he was going to say. And he didn’t mind it at all. His voice didn’t even shake anymore.
“And since she, this, ah, extraordinary woman, was pretty special herself, she knew what she was talking about.”
For just a second, he could see Camilla in his mind, and it didn’t hurt as much as it usually did. He had learned from her. He’d learned he wanted to love someone, he could love someone, and even if they didn’t love you back, or couldn’t be with you, you were better for it anyway.
And he had learned he loved her. He didn’t shy away from it anymore. He knew he did. Whatever that meant or didn’t mean to her. And he needed to make sure she knew that.
“So, ah, I’m grateful to have been invited here tonight, by Mrs. Vintilla there.” He remembered her name! She smiled and waved, as proud of the mention as Nathan had been. “Because it gave me a chance to remember what Camp for Kids is all about. It’s about not letting the fact that we can’t give speeches or be what everybody expects us to be or to do some things,” he glanced at the audience where there was a little girl in a wheelchair at a front table, “make us think we’re a failure at everything, make us feel anything other than special. These kids are special, and I wanted a place where they could feel that.”
Abruptly, he went over and sat back down, to his surprise to the accompaniment of thunderous applause. He and Nathan grinned at each other this time.
The board member returned to the podium, clapping, and said in the microphone, “Now Nathan, let’s see if you can top that!”
Nathan popped up, eager to try, and Mason sat back to listen.
At the back of the ballroom, in a chair against the wall on the far left, Camilla held back tears. Marcia slipped into the seat next to her and handed her a tissue. She wiped her eyes.
“That wasn’t the speech I wrote for him.”
“Did you tell him I was here?”
“Give an old lady some credit,” she sniffed. “If he was that nervous already, what do you think knowing you were in the audience would have done to him?”
She laughed.
“Besides, he didn’t answer when I called. They must have made him turn off the phone.”
Camilla shook her head. “Traitor.”
“I know where my loyalties lie. Always! I just think you may be good for him after all.”
“I’ll try.” And she felt very humble about it, too.
A young man was at the podium, talking about the summers he had spent at the camp in upstate New York when he was younger, charming the crowd, reminding Camilla very much of her little brother, especially when it took a few gentle prods from the woman in charge of the microphone to get him to wrap his stories up. But everyone loved it. And Mason, on the dais, was laughing and smiling with everybody else as he listened, his bow tie untied and his ill-fitting tuxedo jacket on the back of his chair.
“Maybe you’ll have more luck with him on the clothes thing,” Marcia observed as they watched him, the man she was pretty sure they both loved, in different ways.
She leaned over to the older woman and said, “Mason might not have lucked out on his biological mother, but he did pretty well with you.”
The woman reddened, and she handed her the tissue. “And his sperm donor must have really been something,” she added, and Marcia laughed.
There were a few more speeches and then the guests were eating desert, drinking cappuccino and starting to file out. Despite that she and Marcia were both considerably underdressed, nobody gave them a second look as they threaded their way through to the dais.
At the last second, Marcia touched her shoulder. “You two need to talk alone. I’ll see him tomorrow. Tell him I was proud of him.”
“I will.” Camilla smiled. “Thanks for the ticket to get me in, and the talk and everything.”
“No problem.” She headed back out into the crowd as Camilla went on ahead. Deep in conversation, Mason didn’t notice as she approached.
The reference to her in his speech—extraordinary, special, exactly how she thought about him in fact—had floored her. As much as she wanted to see him, talk to him, suddenly she felt almost shy.
He stopped mid-sentence to see her in front of him. His mouth dropped open, and it took him a second to recover. The others forged on ahead, filling in the conversational gap as Mason stared at Camilla.
“And so I said to Jennifer that I could too so add in my head and then I—”
“Time to get going, Nathan,” the woman who was the master of ceremonies said. “I promised your mother I’d have you home by ten. You, too, Sue. We have to go.”
“Oh!”
“Say good-bye to Mr. Talbot.”
“Mason,” the young man corrected, and Mason turned back to him, smiling.
“That’s right.” He pulled out a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to him. “Now you give me a call. I’ll arrange for a tour of my office, and maybe we could go to lunch.”
With vigorous handshakes, the man assured him he would be looking forward to it and then Camilla had Mason to herself.
“He’s going to be taking you up on that, you know,” she said.
“I’m counting on it.”
“Marcia wanted you to know she’s proud of you, although she mentioned you didn’t use the speech she wrote.”
“But I liked the feel of it in my pocket while I was waiting.” He gestured to the seats. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Not really. I was hoping maybe I could see that four-story townhouse of yours.”
He smiled. “Really? I mean, yes, sure.” He glanced around. “Marcia usually arranges a car and calls me with the number.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. I know how to catch a cab. Or we could even take the subway.”
At his look of horror, she laughed. “Well, maybe you’ve confronted enough of your fears tonight. We’ll save that one for another time.”
He took her hands and just that touch felt so right after so long. He swallowed. “I’m not going to have to confront my biggest fear, am I?”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“Not being…with you. However you want.”
She shook her head. “I’ve missed you.”
He brought her hands to his lips, and she felt sparks at his reverent kiss. “I ached for you.”
“Yes, and that’s part of what I wanted us to prove, to each other and to ourselves.”
“That I’m crazy about you?”
“That we’re crazy about each other. Although I have to admit I was worried you’d forget about me, like a baby who has his rattle taken away and maybe cries at first but actually thinks the rattle doesn’t exist after that and forgets all about it when another toy comes along.”
“I’m going to remember to be insulted on both our behalves for that comparison. As soon as I get over being so happy to see my rattle again.”
She laughed and he kissed her nose.
“And also, I’ve made some big changes.”
“What? Anything.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’ve never been to Michigan, but I’m sure it’s fine, quite nice probably.”
“Baby steps,” she warned him.
“Anything for my rattle,” he teased. “No, really, if you want to go back to Michigan, I’ll go with you, if you’ll let me.”
“No, I won’t plunge you back into the lion’s den just yet.”
“I’ll be better—”
“Shhh.” She held a finger to his lips, looking into those sincere eyes. God, she loved him! Even if she had to take some time to say it. Had to say it carefully. “You’ll fit in just fine with my family. I never should have doubted it. I love different. It’s an Anderson family trait. And after what you said up here just now, well, my parents couldn’t have handpicked a better man for me if they’d done it themselves.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Yes, but how do we convince them of that?”
“They’ll love you. Joey already does. He keeps asking me when I’m going to bring you around again, if you can believe it.”
“I’d like that.”
“And thank you for the donation.”
“What donation?” He kept his face straight, but thinned his lips at the effort.
“And I like that you’re a bad liar.”
He laughed. “You’re welcome in that case.”
She brushed the hair out of his eyes, lingering on the soft, springy curls. “My career was the other thing I wanted to figure out and I have. I’ve entered an MFA program.”
“A what?”
“Masters of Fine Arts, in writing. At a small college fifty minutes out of Manhattan. I start there in the fall, and you know the best thing?”
“You’re only fifty minutes out of Manhattan?”
“Well, that and not only is the program fully funded—because they know anybody who wants to be a writer is a dreamer anyway and has no money.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “But also my law school student loans will be deferred for the time I’m in school. A grace period!”
“That’s great.” He kissed her and every plan she ever had went out of her head…again! But this time she could stick to her plans and give them the time they needed to explore, each other and life…together.
“And when I get out,” she said. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll spend hours writing the great American novel with you beside me spending hours refining that thing-a-ma-jiggy your company produces. But I’m not planning that far ahead. Not this time. I’m, ah, enjoying the ride.”
“With me?” he whispered.
“Absolutely with you. Now let’s go check out that townhouse. I’ll flag the cab.”
“Hang on.” He reached into his pocket. “Turn around.”
When he clasped her pearls around her neck, his thumb slipped under the strand to caress her collarbone and she melted. He said, low, “I’ve been carrying these around all this time we’ve been apart, like somehow they’d magically bring you back to me.”
She smiled. “You brought me back to you. You are special. And I’m not going anywhere this time.”
Hand in hand, they caught a cab.
The End
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Acknowledgments
Much thanks to the very professional team at Entangled for all their help and encouragement.
About the Author
Angela Claire, like most writers, grew up loving to read, which led to a degree in English literature, which in turn led to unemployment. Not having been born to wealth, Angela developed a more practical plan for eating and paying her rent—hence the dreaded and expected descent into law school and inevitable career as a lawyer. Once she paid off her pesky yet massive student loans, Angela saved for an escape from the law profession one day. Now a multi-published author, she does what she loves, but with a little less leeway on the eating and paying rent thing.
Visit her online at www.angelaclaireromance.com
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