“Thanks,” he whispered. “You’re allowed to use a napkin, too.”
So, it hadn’t gone gangbusters for him either. But then, it could have been the awkwardness of their positions.
“Are you okay with what I just did?” She slumped back into her chair and resisted wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Of course. It’s hard getting used to waiting for the woman to make the first move.”
“You only have to ask.” She reached for his hand and grasped it over the strapped Velcro.
“Don’t worry, I’ve gotten good at asking.” He grinned. “Care to have dessert?”
“I’d love to, but I have to go back to work.” She wanted to see him again and try the kiss in a less public place. “Do I get a raincheck?”
“Sure, my place or yours?” He trained his heartbreaker face at her.
“You move fast, don’t you?”
“I can’t afford to sit on my hands and do nothing.” He chuckled. “Let me get the check while you call your sister over.”
She laughed at his joke, then felt bad about it. Why was he always calling attention to his disability, even if in humor?
And what did it say about her to be the more abled partner? Was she being as condescending to Jason as Nick was to her?
Fourteen
The Redwood Hills Country Club was nestled in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains. It was surrounded by an open space preserve on the western side of Highway 280, and sported a rural vibe despite being so close to Stanford University and Silicon Valley.
Carol and her friends were sitting around a table in the Founders Room, an eclectic mix of old-fashioned boardroom and trendy chrome and steel. The rest of the women had gone for a swim and were lounging around with damp hair and that freshly tanned glow.
Obviously, Carol couldn’t swim, well, technically, she could, but it would all depend on her arms. Besides, she’d barely arrived on time due to a meeting that had run late at work.
The past few days, no one disturbed her, least of all Nick. Her voicemail was empty except for her boss and coworkers, and her email was all work related. Text messages abounded with build status, test failures, bug fixes, and meeting schedules.
It looked like Nick had finally gotten the message and decided she wasn’t worth the challenge. He was probably onto his next conquest. That was good, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if she could do anything for him, and being with someone so physically fit was a depressing reminder of all she’d lost.
At least with Jason, they could commiserate together, although strangely, she hadn’t heard from him either.
Carol racked her brain on how they had left their date. Had he said he would call her, or did she say she’d text? Did they agree to something specific? Was he expecting her to call or would that be too forward? Maybe he didn’t like her anymore, or the first date had been disappointing. Maybe she’d blown it by being loud and activist. Or maybe he wasn’t attracted to her, and the kiss had driven him away. No wonder Marisa hadn’t mentioned him at all, not even to compare notes on their date. Strange.
Her friends were gathered around the table idly chitchatting. They were all successful business women and surrounded by men. Terri Martin Slade was a florist and married to one of the bikers who frequented the Club Rachelle. Hopefully, he wasn’t in the habit of parking his Harley in handicapped zones.
Meanwhile, Nikki Chu, the president, was always smartly dressed and stylish. She was a travel blogger and did event photography as well as produced event videos. The Bumblebees Christmas Gala would be one of her biggest productions of the year, and she was supposed to get together with Carol to go over clips from the children’s party for the video overview.
Clips that would include Nick, no doubt, and all the cheesing he’d done with the kids and parents.
Jolie Becker Cassidy was Ken’s wife, and her parents were country club members. She owned a chic beauty salon and was always impeccably put together, even at three months pregnant.
Jolie and Ken had returned recently from their Hawaiian elopement and honeymoon, and they were still lovey dovey. Lucky dogs them.
Leanna Rivera, the happy cake baker kept her Tinder account busy by buzzing from one man to another, although she never played for keeps. Loud, fun, and Latina, she had no problem turning men’s heads. There she went, flirting with a man who was old enough to be her grandfather. Leanna was an equal opportunity flirter, for sure.
Carol sipped her mineral water as she watched Sherelle Edwards stroll through the restaurant toward them. Tall, dark, and slender, Sherelle was as fashionable as a model on a catwalk. Men’s eyes followed her as she wound her way to Carol’s side.
“Glad we can take you from your work for a few hours.” Sherelle patted Carol and sat next to her.
Of all the Bumblebees, Sherelle had the most steady head on her shoulders. She seemed impervious to men, especially the player type like Nick, and no one dared stalk her or make inappropriate jokes. One narrowed-eyed look from her was enough to turn blubbering fools into stone.
“I’m actually ahead of schedule.” Carol crossed her fingers to keep from jinxing her team. “Everyone’s working hard because we all want to enjoy the holiday break with nothing hanging over our heads.”
“Planning on going anywhere?” Sherelle’s slim hand with its perfectly manicured fingernails picked up a flute of champagne.
“Normally, I would have been flying somewhere with my climbing partner. Obviously I’m going to miss climbing Aconcagua.” Carol shrugged and forced a smile on her face. She also took a sip of the bubbly.
“Aconcagua, where’s that?” Sherelle whipped out her smartphone and asked.
“Argentina,” Carol replied at the same time the mechanical female voice said. “According to Live Science, Aconcagua is located in Argentina, in the province of Mendoza, and lies fifteen kilometers from the border of Chile. Aconcagua is the highest mountain in South America.”
Right. Natalie was on her way to Argentina, and even though it killed Carol, she promised she would follow along on social media and send encouraging messages. After all, Natalie told everyone she was climbing all of these mountains on behalf of Carol Cassidy, her paraplegic ex-partner. It made Carol feel like a charity or poster child for stupid climbers who fell off cliffs.
“Are you going to take a break and go anywhere?” Carol asked Sherelle.
“No way. I’ve got New Year’s Eve events double and triple booked. The holidays are nonstop work for caterers. I usually take a break in March or August where there are no major holidays. I am, however, having my sisters visit over the holidays, so it’s going to be a blast.”
Carol wouldn’t even have Marisa with her for the holidays. Her stepsister had booked a Christmas cruise with her nursing school friends. Neither would she have Ken and Jolie who were off to spend Christmas in Wyoming with her father and stepmother. Meanwhile, her mom and stepfather lived in Florida, and Carol didn’t want to fly by herself. Besides, they kept blaming her for her carelessness, and all she’d do would be reliving her tumble down the mountain.
She was saved at having to explain her loneliness by Nikki calling the meeting to order. Today’s agenda was the final details of the Christmas Gala. Because the Bumblebee Dance Club was both a social as well as charity organization, the party was also a fundraiser. They were charging a thousand dollars per plate, so the party had better be a smashing success.
The salad was served, and Carol zoned out on Nikki’s checklist full of decorating details. She wouldn’t be involved with hanging mistletoes or stringing garlands, unless they were on the lowest level of the Christmas tree. Nor would she be in charge of the entertainment. In fact, the Bumblebees weren’t even dancing. It was going to be a party centered on hobnobbing with rich and influential people and gathering pledges for the Wheelympics charity.
“Carol, you’re speaking right after the Wheelympics chairperson,” Nikki reminded her. “It would be such an inspiration if you could le
t everyone know how participating in sports helped you heal from your injury.”
Right. As if she only existed to be an inspiration to others.
“I’ll make sure to run my speech by you.” Carol speared a piece of arugula and twirled it in the dressing.
“We will be having a dry run the night before,” Nikki reminded. “By the way, you should wear something formal, like an evening gown.”
“You mean I can’t wear my sweats and yoga pants?” Carol couldn’t picture herself wearing an evening gown. Most of them had dropped backs, but who would see her back if it was pasted against the back of her wheelchair. Even worse, her awful scars would be on display if she leaned forward. Also, what was the point in wearing a pair of stiletto heels just to place them on the footrest?
All her friends turned to look at her with various expressions: disappointment, curiosity, pity, and confusion.
“What?” Carol shrugged. “I like my sweats and yoga pants. Aren’t we talking about sports?”
“But you have to look chic and lovely at the party,” Nikki said. “You have a fine figure. Long legs and all. You should strut your stuff.”
Long legs that perched uselessly on a wheelchair got in the way more often than not. Carol most certainly didn’t want to draw attention to her legs, or the rest of her broken body. No way.
“I’ll help you shop,” Jolie volunteered. “I know all the best places.”
“You can come to my place and raid my closet,” Leanna said from across the table. “I’m sure I have something cute.”
“You’re all not listening.” Carol raised her voice. “I don’t want to wear a sparkly dress full of sequins. I don’t want to be the center of attention. I only agreed to speak because I want to help the cause, but I don’t want to be everyone’s inspiration and object of pity.”
“Oh, well, then wear what you like.” Nikki waved her hand. “I just thought you should look your best since you are the keynote speaker.”
She moved onto the next topic about coordinating the gift exchange. Each donor was to bring a white elephant gift. They would all be mixed up, and a hired Santa Claus and elf would go around the tables and hand out the gifts. It was supposed to be an ice breaker, but Carol couldn’t think of anything more stupid than rich people who paid a thousand dollars a plate being excited over getting a Chipmunks Christmas CD or a box of scented soaps.
“What’s going on?” Sherelle tapped Carol’s arm and leaned toward her. “You used to be so cheerful.”
“I’m fine.” Carol flashed a smile. She was a pro at faking cheerfulness, even for her family. “I’m just exhausted with work. I’m really looking forward to the holiday. It’s going to be so relaxing, and I’m going to spend it all doing nothing.”
“That’s the spirit. Work hard and play hard,” Sherelle replied.
Carol’s answer seemed to satisfy her friend, who turned back to the discussion at hand. No one really understood the changes that had happened to her. Last year at this time, she’d been planning her Mt. Baldy expedition, full of high hopes. She was seeing a man who wasn’t quite her boyfriend, but almost. He was another climber who understood the thrills and obsessions of conquering peaks.
They’d met on expeditions worldwide, and in between his travels, he’d spend a few nights with her. It had been exciting to be included with his group of elite mountaineers. Since her accident, he’d only spoken to her once, wishing her a speedy recovery and promising to get together whenever he happened to be around—which was never.
Talk turned to the entertainment, specifically the Santa and elf.
“I have a coupon from Bad Boys for Hire,” Terri said. “I think that last one did a wonderful job.”
Oh no, they were thinking of hiring Nick.
“I agree,” Leanna chimed in. “He was very accommodating at the after-party, if you know what I mean.”
The table erupted into laughter and whoops.
Okay, she got it. Nick had probably stripped and shown them all his goodies. He would have flirted with them, allowed them to paw all over him, maybe even lick him, as they stuffed money in his G-string.
Disgusting.
“I think we should get someone different,” Carol said. “Nick’s been stalking me, and he gives me the creeps.”
“I thought he sent himself as a singing telegram.” Leanna turned wide eyes at her. “I saw the video posted online and it was really cute.”
It was posted online? Carol’s mouth gaped and she blinked at the faces staring at her.
“Our theme song this Christmas is ‘This Christmas.’” Nikki walked toward Carol. “But of course, if you have a serious objection toward Nick, we’ll look somewhere else.”
“Stalking is so wrong,” Terri agreed. “Have you thought about a restraining order?”
“I can have Ken speak to him,” Jolie volunteered. “He knows him from Bad Boys for Hire.”
“So does Ryker,” Terri said. “Ryker and his brothers can put the fear of God into him.”
“Oh, oh, Axe too,” Leanna said. “You know how all the bikers are scared of him. I’m sure he’s got brass knuckles in his briefs.”
“Brass knuckles in his briefs?” Sherelle kicked her chair back and laughed. “Is that what he tells you?”
Leanna had the sense to blush deeply. “I wouldn’t know. He’s just all sorts of mysterious.”
Of course, Axe Salvadori was Italian, and she was implying he had mob connections.
“It might be better to complain to Rex,” Nikki said. “If he’s stalking you, he could be stalking other customers, and he should be fired.”
“Right.” Everyone around the table agreed.
Carol’s stomach twisted and anxiety gnawed at her heart. Nick hadn’t even contacted her for days, and it would be wrong for him to lose his job because of her exaggerations.
“He’s actually stopped. His brother’s a policeman, and I’m sure his brother told him to stop.” Carol hated the way they all looked at her with a mixture of compassion and pity. “Anyway, I can take care of myself. I have a concealed carry permit.”
“Okay …,” Nikki said. “So, let’s ask Rex if he has any other Certified Santa Bad Boys. Terri, are you in charge of this?”
“Got it. Anyone but Nick Wolff.” Terri took notes on a napkin. “How about the elf?”
“Anyone Rex recommends will be fine,” Nikki said as the servers appeared with their lunch plates. “I have to eat and run, so if there’s nothing else, let’s adjourn.”
“I second,” Jolie said.
They gave a voice vote, and Nikki asked Carol, as secretary, whether she had the minutes of the meeting down.
Minutes? Carol scrambled for a notepad. She had been so distracted that she hadn’t taken notes, much less paid attention.
“Don’t worry,” Sherelle said. “I have a photographic memory. I’ll send you an email of what we decided.”
Carol dug into the food, relieved that Sherelle had it covered. She observed their conversation from the side. They’d known each other since childhood, and they talked about childhood friends. They didn’t mean to exclude her, but it couldn’t be helped. Other than the dancing and the fact that she was Jolie’s sister-in-law, she didn’t have much in common with them.
They were beautiful women in the prime of desirability: fashionable, healthy, successful in their careers and were at that cusp in their lives when they’d find love, marry, and start families.
Talk turned to that very topic, when first Leanna, and then Nikki were grilled on which guy they’d invite to the party.
Both of them had plenty of prospects, and the friends went through each one, as if they were managers sitting around in a performance review, detailing the pluses and minuses, as well as voting on which guy should get the nod.
Nothing was settled of course, and attention turned to Sherelle.
“I’m going with a friend, but don’t get me wrong. It’s not a date.” Sherelle raised her hand as if she were pledgi
ng in a court of law.
“Oh, come on, you’re always using Gage Swanson,” Terri said with her mouth full. “And don’t give me that just friends story.”
“We are only friends.” Sherelle placed her fork and knife daintily on the table and dabbed her lips.
Carol looked right and then left. She might as well make her exit before they turned the get-a-date spotlight on her.
“Then it doesn’t count as a date,” Leanna said. “A date has to be someone you’re attracted to.”
“Oh, really?” Sherelle countered. “What about a blind date? Does that count?”
“Sure, that counts,” Nikki said. “The difference is a date has uncertainty, whereas just-friends is the same-old, same-old, boring certainty. We want to spice up your life.”
“I’ve got plenty of spice in my life. I just don’t like to kiss and tell.” Sherelle turned toward Carol. “Going somewhere?”
“Uh, yes, I have to get back to work.” Carol hastily dug her wallet from her pack. “Let me leave what I owe.”
“One minute.” Leanna put her finger up. “Who are you asking to the party?”
“I heard you had a date with a hot firefighter,” Jolie said. “Ken says he’s a real stand-up guy. Jason Boyd. Big hero.”
“Do tell.” Everyone’s eyes zeroed in on Carol.
She might as well tell them the truth. “We had one lunch date, but he hasn’t called or texted me. I don’t think he’s interested in me.”
“Have you called?”
“No.”
“Texted?”
“No.” Carol shook her head.
“Then do it right now.”
“Yeah, you’ll never know unless you try.”
“He asked you out last time, so it’s your turn to ask him out.”
“Are you afraid he’d turn you down?”
“No, I just can’t.” Carol put money on the table. “I’m not in the mood to date, and I wish you all wouldn’t push me. I’ve a lot on my mind, what with the speech and getting an evening gown.”
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