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by Patricia Paris


  Charlie stood behind the counter, eyes glued to the entrance, as if paralyzed…unable to do anything other than wait for Phillip to slither through the portal like some hated demon come to try and uproot her world.

  When he did, he was ushered in on a clap of thunder that jangled her nerves even more, setting them on end and momentarily rattling her confidence. Bad energy—old energy—she would give it no ground.

  He closed the door behind him and shook the rain off his trench coat before he turned, faced the counter, and looked up to see her standing there. His eyes narrowed a fraction before he angled his head and studied her from across the room as if he were dissecting a bug.

  Charlie swallowed under his perusal but didn’t look away. She would wait for him to make the first move, try to gauge his purpose before she reacted.

  He strolled toward her, taking his time, swinging his umbrella like a death knoll. It dripped a steady stream, leaving a trail of small puddles across her newly refinished wooden floors.

  When he reached the counter, he put one of his hands in his coat pocket and looked down at her. He shook his head, blew out a heavy sigh that made him sound very much like an exasperated parent who didn’t know what to do with a naughty child. Classic Phillip, the one who had always made her feel lacking but now just made her thankful she’d left him.

  “What are you doing here, Charlene?” His condescending tone, pregnant with judgment, overflowed with disapproval. What she used to view as confidence she now knew to be nothing more than arrogance. A snotty superiority that made him more shallow than a sandbar at low tide, but that he’d use to try to demean her, tear her apart bit by bit, make her question herself—it was how he operated, and it was nothing new.

  Charlie squared her shoulders and stared right back at him. “I’m working. This is my shop. I sell cupcakes, coffee, tea, a few related gift items, but I don’t think that’s what you came in for, so I’ll turn your question back to you. What are you doing here, Phillip?”

  “I came to bring you back where you belong. Your little…” he paused and glanced around, “whatever all this is about, has gone on long enough. I’ll send someone down here to deal with this mess next week, handle whatever has to be handled. Now get your things and let’s get out of here; I’ve already wasted two days by having to come here. If we leave now, we can be home in a few hours.”

  Charlie stared, let out a little snort of disbelief. Did he seriously think he could walk in here and tell her to gather her things and come back with him and she would? Had she been that malleable and irrelevant in his estimation he believed all it would take to make her heel would be a dictate?

  “I suggest you don’t waste another minute then. If you hurry, you might be able to miss the worst of the rush hour in Delaware and Philly. But I’m not coming with you, Phillip. This is my life now. This is my home.”

  “Stop being foolish, Charlene. I don’t know how you managed to start up this…this thing you’re doing, without any money. Or what possessed you to think you could open a business and expect to make a living off it. You’re not a businesswoman, sweetheart. Why don’t you just put all this nonsense behind you before it’s too late and let me take you home where you belong.” He took a step forward, to the side of the counter, and reached for her elbow. “Now come on, don’t be difficult.”

  She jerked her arm out of his hold. “I told you I’m not leaving with you! This!” She waved her hand toward the room. “This is not some nonsense you can swagger in here and belittle and expect me to disregard because you say so. This is mine! Mine! I don’t care if you approve of it. I don’t care if you approve of me. I approve of it. I approve of me. That’s all that matters to me right now. It’s. All. That. Matters.”

  Charlie drew in a steadying breath and hiked her chin a little higher, anger fueling her determination to hold her ground. “I want you to go now. We’re through, Phillip. We were through ages ago. I just didn’t realize it as soon as I should have.”

  “We’re not through. If something happened that upset you, we can talk about it, but we’re not through. You’re just confused.”

  “Oh, God!” She pushed her hands through her hair. “I’m not confused. And there’s nothing to talk about. I didn’t leave because of something you said or did! I left because I wanted out.”

  “For what? To work in a kitchen and wait on hicks in this nowhere town?” He glanced around again, shook his head, looked back at her and smirked. “It’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassed for you, Charlene, and quite frankly, disappointed. I thought you had more ambition than this, more pride.”

  His insults didn’t matter. She knew what he was doing, unlike before. She could see it clearly, but she wasn’t that woman anymore, and she felt a surge of confidence when his opinions only strengthened her resolve. They no longer held any weight over her self-esteem.

  “Fine. Now if you don’t mind, you can take your embarrassment and your disappointment and drive it back to New York—alone. I’ve got work to do.”

  Phillip pounded his fist against the counter, startling a jump out of her with its sudden and unexpected force.

  “I gave you everything,” he snapped, red blotches beginning to mottle his face. “A luxury condominium, expensive car, beautiful clothes, access to the right social circles, and this is how you repay me? By sneaking off behind my back when I’m out of town? You owe me more than that. You owe me much more than that, so you better damn well show me a little more respect than you are right now before you regret it.”

  Anger poured off him like fog rolling across the Bay. She heard it in his voice, saw it spike in the tensing of his jaw and the narrowing slits of his eyes. He’d hit things when she lived with him, the way he had the counter just now, but he’d never hit her, even at his angriest. No, he’d relied on more subtle forms of abuse and control—ones that wouldn’t leave physical evidence that might raise questions.

  “I owe you nothing! And I don’t like being threatened.” Although she didn’t shout, Charlene raised her own voice, putting some steel behind it. A braid of anger and fear coiled together, snaked along her nerves, but it only served to keep her sharp, honing her own edge. She didn’t know what he might do, but she would never back down to him again.

  “You’ve changed, sweetheart. I liked you better before, before you got this ridiculous notion in your head that somehow you’d be better off without me.”

  Charlene laughed, part nervous release, part a show of indifference.

  “That person wasn’t real; she was nothing but a puppet that you manipulated to suit your purposes. That person is gone for good, and she’s not coming back, Phillip—ever! You never knew the real me. This is it! Who I really am, who I always was, and I’ll never let you or anyone else steal her away from me again.”

  He shook his head, rolled his eyes, glanced back down at her as if she’d just said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, and then he smiled at her, as if the last five minutes had never happened and nothing she’d said mattered.

  “Charlene, if I wasn’t giving you enough attention you should have told me instead of running off. Obviously that’s what this is about. Now that I know, we can fix things. We’ll have more chats if that’s what you want. I can see now that I should have shown more interest in…” He glanced away a moment. “In what you wanted.”

  He sighed. “I’m glad we had this talk. Now that I understand what you want I can forgive you for leaving me the way you did and we’ll start over.” He started to reach for her again and she jerked sideways.

  “Don’t! I’m not coming back with you. I don’t want to have any chats or try to fix things. We’re done, so just get that through your head, Phillip.”

  His whole face contorted and he glared at her again. “Why are you being such a bitch about this?”

  “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

  He leaned toward her and she could hear his breath coming out in sharp puffs. She made a show of sliding her hand
under the edge of the countertop. “I’ve got my finger on the alarm button. You can either leave right now, or I press it and the police will be here within three minutes. One move. Your choice.”

  Fire burned in his eyes. If she really did have a security bell under the counter, she’d already be pushing it, not even giving him the option. He didn’t know she was faking it, though. She narrowed hers right back at him and hiked a brow as if asking the question, what’s it going to be, bucko?

  He backed away from the counter, barely contained fury curling his mouth into a sneer of contempt—she could see it, knew it for loathing—failed to understand why then, if he didn’t love her, he would want her back.

  She remained standing at the counter for almost five minutes after he’d gone before sliding into the chair behind the display cases and dropping her head between her hands. They still trembled. She took several deep breaths to calm herself.

  She had worried he would try to find her. But after days turned into weeks and weeks into months, she’d begun to relax, had begun to look forward instead of back.

  Well…he’d come. And she’d stood up to him, hadn’t buckled, hadn’t waivered.

  Charlene sat back up and nodded, taking comfort as she looked around at what was hers, what she would build and grow on her own. She’d done good. She was okay. Yes…she was okay.

  The rest of the day dragged. She busied herself around the shop as best she could, reorganizing the supply cabinets, rearranging the display shelves, putting in time until she could close up and go home.

  The rain tapered off a bit in the afternoon, and a few people dribbled in for cupcakes or coffee, mostly other people who worked in town looking for a way to escape the tedium of their own slow day by coming down to her shop for a break. She was grateful for the distractions, for the normal, and the business. Light as it was she still sold most of the cupcakes she’d iced that morning.

  The workday finally ended, and almost fifteen minutes after locking the front door of Finger Cakes, Charlie turned onto Hickory Switch Lane. She glanced in the rearview, half-worried she might see someone following her, and felt a wave of relief when she saw no other cars on the road. Another two miles and she’d be home, safe in the cottage.

  Phillip’s unexpected visit had affected her more than she cared to admit. Yes, she’d survived it, but was today the end of it? If she was lucky, he wouldn’t return and she could finally be free.

  Free to be herself again—just Charlie—and no one would ever need to know how close she’d come to disappearing forever.

  THE NEXT two days came and went, business picked back up, the sun returned to warm a still-young October, and to Charlie’s relief there were no more visits from Phillip.

  Every year since she could remember, the Chamber of Commerce had organized a Halloween celebration in town, and Cooper came in around eleven o’clock Friday morning to drop off a flyer outlining the festivities for this year’s event for her to post in her front window.

  As usual, there would be a parade through the center of town, with prizes for the best costumes in various categories. Afterward there would be the annual bake sale, which Mary would most likely win—again—and tables with cider donuts, everything imaginable pumpkin, and local vendors selling their crafts. For the little ones, there would be trick-or-treating through town, with all the stores and businesses handing out candy or small giveaways, and pony rides in Speckles’ parking lot.

  Pulling the tape dispenser out from under her counter, Charlie took it with her to go post the flyer.

  “How’d you pull Halloween duty?” she asked Cooper as she positioned the piece of paper near the front door where it would be more noticeable when customers came into the shop.

  “Stella asked if someone else could take over at the last Chamber meeting. She’s been coordinating it for the last ten years. She didn’t say so, but I think with Jim being sick she’s feeling a little overwhelmed right now. It didn’t look like she was going to get any takers so I volunteered.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind, and she kept detailed notes, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Charlie turned toward him. “I’m glad you jumped in. Stella loved putting together this event. She must be under a lot of stress to ask someone else to take it on. I can help out if you need a hand.”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on that as we get closer. And speaking of getting close…” He wiggled his brows and then pinned her with hooded eyes that oozed invitation. “How would you like some company this evening? I’ll bring you food. Pizza.”

  She grinned, enjoying his playfulness. “Add a bottle of wine and it’s a date.”

  “Okay. That was easy.”

  “Yeah. I’m not that complicated. I never turn down a free meal.”

  “See how well I’m getting to know you? It makes me wonder why you were so thin when we met; there’s nothing wrong with your appetite.” He angled his head. “And you’ve certainly filled out over the last three months.”

  She looked away, blinked. “You think I’m fat?”

  “Of course I don’t think you’re fat! Why would you…”

  Charlie swallowed. Why would she…go there…seize up…shrink back? She knew. But Cooper wasn’t being judgmental, wasn’t criticizing—wasn’t Phillip.

  She shook it off, the shadow that lingered, sent it back to the deepest recesses from where it had come. She’d come too far to fall back, and if she didn’t measure up to Cooper’s or anyone else’s expectations, then too bad. She liked who she was just fine, and from now on anyone who professed to like her and then try to change her could go suck sand.

  Cooper touched the side of her cheek, ran his finger along her jaw, and turned her face back to his. “When I said you’ve filled out, I meant it as a compliment. I think the extra weight looks good on you. I thought you were too thin. I prefer a woman with a little meat on her bones. Not that it matters, it’s your body, and I’ve been attracted to you from the start, so skinny, fat, it wouldn’t make a difference. I’d still be trying to bribe you into an invitation to get close to the more or less of you, whichever the case may be.”

  Liking his answer, Charlie lifted up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re right, it is my body, and if you bring pizza and wine tonight, there’s a good chance it would welcome getting naked with yours afterward. It seems to have developed a somewhat hearty appetite of its own in that area.”

  His mouth curled into a sexy, off-center smile that made her wish they were already snuggled together in the cottage. “What if I sprung for a steak dinner?”

  “I might consider meeting you at the door in my robe…with nothing underneath.”

  “Promise?”

  She chuckled under her breath. “We need to stop. I’ve got customers, and trust me, that kiss is already going to stir up the rumor mill.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No, it’s no secret anymore that we’ve been seeing one another, but I’d prefer it if we weren’t the headline news.”

  Outside, a florist’s van pulled up to the curb. A young man got out, took a floral arrangement out of the van, and brought it into her shop.

  Charlie recognized the delivery person as the same one who had brought several arrangements in last week from well-wishers congratulating her on the opening of Finger Cakes, or from other merchants welcoming her to the business community.

  “These are beautiful.” She took the arrangement and went to place it next to the cash register, where she removed the cellophane wrap and then took out the card that was tucked between the voluptuous, old-fashioned red and white roses interspersed with lacy baby’s breath and a sprinkling of delicate, airy ferns.

  Charlie glanced up at Cooper, who had followed her back to the counter, and smiled. “I love flowers. I think I’m going to put in a standing order with the florist so there will be a fresh arrangement for the counter every week.”

  She slipped the card out of the envelope and read it.

&n
bsp; “What’s wrong?” Cooper asked, angling his head and regarding her more closely.

  “Nothing.” Charlie stuffed the card into her pants pocket.

  “You look upset. What did that card say?”

  I want you back. I realize now I was wrong.

  Please give me a chance to make it up to you.

  Love, P

  “Nothing.”

  Charlie walked over to the display case and started straightening the cupcakes on the trays that were inside.

  “It was a blank card?” Cooper asked.

  She ignored him. From beneath her lashes she saw him cross his arms.

  “Who were the flowers from?”

  “No one.”

  “That’s curious. You get flowers from no one with a card that says nothing. If I was the suspicious type, I might think you’re trying to hide something from me.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the top of the case. “What do you know about that, guess I am. Are you trying to hide something, Charlie?”

  She slid the door to the case shut, her eyelids fluttering as she considered what she should tell him. They’d agreed to no strings, but she cared about Cooper, and although neither of them had talked about their feelings, she knew he cared about her, too.

  She didn’t want him to jump to the wrong conclusion, but if she refused to say anything, he would. That’s what happened if people didn’t get resolution, answers, closure. They filled in the blanks on their own, and left to their own imaginings they usually got it wrong.

  “I can’t talk about it right now, not here.” She brought a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes a moment to talk herself down.

  “It’s a long story.” She pulled the cellophane wrap back out of the trash basket and taped it around the flowers again. Picking up the arrangement, she handed it to Cooper. “Would you do me a favor and take these down to the drugstore? Give them to Stella. Tell her they’re in appreciation of all the work she’s done for the Halloween festivities over the years…and everything else.”

 

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