“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get some food before we faint.”
She made herself smile. “You’re on.”
He kissed her again. On the cheek.
No, he definitely wasn’t himself tonight.
Chapter 10
Mandy only knew of one place that served the kind of drink she liked, so she directed Jake to the Foggy Notion, a busy little cafe on Evergreen Lane.
“What did you order?” Jake asked after the waiter took their drink orders and left them with their menus.
“It’s called a Gingerbread Spritzer,” she said. “It’s got raspberry juice, ginger ale, cinnamon . . . There’s no alcohol in it. And it really does taste a lot like a gingerbread man.”
His brow furrowed. “Where’d you find out about a thing like that?”
“Here. It was a special on one of those little stand-up displays on the table.” Mandy fingered the current placard next to the salt and pepper shakers. Tonight it was promoting their apple pie, which didn’t sound like a bad idea either. “I don’t think they invented it, but it’s tasty.”
“Leave it to you to find a drink that tastes like a Christmas cookie.”
His smile might have been one of amusement or bewilderment, but Mandy decided it didn’t matter either way. Anything to distract Jake seemed like a good idea at this point. From the time they left the hotel, he’d been analyzing what he’d done wrong and strategizing what to do next.
He was back at it now.
“I’ve been going about this all wrong,” he said. “I thought playing softball was the way to go. I didn’t want to come off like some kind of a lobbyist. But the soft-sell isn’t working. I wasted too much time glad-handing without getting down to the real subject. Direct is always better.” He passed a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m not sure what I thought was going to happen in there.”
Mandy nodded. He’d been chasing around the same theme for a while now, and it wasn’t doing him any good.
“Take a look at your menu,” she said. “Before you start on your first ulcer.”
That might have gotten his attention, but she couldn’t tell for sure. He did look at his menu.
Mandy started to reread her menu, remembered she’d already decided what she wanted, and glanced past Jake to the waiting area by the front entrance.
Scotty Leroux was standing at the register, paying the hostess for a large white box that probably contained either a cake or a pie.
Scotty Leroux, the class clown and former bane of her existence.
Scotty Leroux, Winston Frazier’s nephew. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to help Jake—and make up for her own mistake.
Mandy stood before she could talk herself out of it. Jake looked up. His eyes still held that hazy, preoccupied look, and her heart wrenched a little. Tonight had been rough. It was almost as if they weren’t sitting at the same table, and she missed him.
“Be right back,” she said, resting a hand on Jake’s shoulder as she sidled past him. “If the waiter comes back, I’ll have the angel hair pasta with Alfredo sauce.”
She wondered if he’d remember that.
Mandy caught up to Scotty as he was picking up his box to leave. “What’s the occasion?”
He stopped in surprise. “Vicki’s birthday is tomorrow. I was going to surprise her at work.”
Vicki Martinez. She’d been a junior when they graduated. She hadn’t realized Scotty was dating her. “Tell her happy birthday for me.”
“Okay.” Scotty cracked a smile. “So what’s up with you and the suit?”
“He’s not a suit.” Mandy tamped down her indignation. “He’s a really nice guy. So, you were at the council meeting?”
“Two rows back from you. I wanted to hear about the duck-feed thing.”
Mandy craned her neck up a little. Scotty stood several inches taller than Jake, and Jake was far from short. “Scotty, I need a favor.”
“You’re kidding.” He leaned against the counter where the hostess had rung up his pie, as if to say, This has got to be good. “What do you mean?”
“Could you talk to your uncle? Ask him to meet with Jake?”
“You are kidding. Why would he listen to me?”
“It’s worth a try.” She remembered Frazier’s implacable expression. “Scotty, Jake really is a good guy. I just feel like the council had their minds made up before he ever went in there. If Winston would listen to him . . . then maybe the rest of them would, too.”
“I don’t know. He’s a pretty stubborn old guy.”
“And he’s one-third of the committee.” Mandy glanced across the room at Jake’s back. He was starting to fidget with his menu. “Please, just ask. All I want is for Jake to have a fair chance.”
Scotty contemplated her, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll ask. But I can’t promise anything.”
Mandy cast her eyes around and found a pen in ajar on the counter. She scrawled Jake’s number on the back of one of the restaurant’s business cards and handed it to Scotty.
“Just try,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Okay.” He took the card from her and pocketed it with a smile.
“You know, you’re a pretty decent guy yourself,” Mandy admitted.
“Of course.”
“But I’m still not sure if it makes us even for ‘Mandy Claus.’”
“Hey, a good line is a good line.” Straightening from his lounging act against the counter, he adjusted his hold on the cake. “You know, you might not be dealing with all this if you’d gone out with me.”
“But then Vicki might not be getting her cake tomorrow.”
“True.”
Plus, when he’d asked her out their senior year, after years of calling her Mandy Claus, she’d been half-convinced it was a joke. “You would have made fun of me anyway,” she said.
“Well, sure.” Scotty looked down at her with a lopsided grin. “When you’re six feet tall before you hit junior high, you learn not to be too serious about anything.”
While Mandy chewed on that, Scotty cuffed her shoulder lightly on his way out. “Good luck with the suit.”
Moments after Mandy left the table, the waiter brought their drinks. Jake tried to remember what she’d asked him to order and found he couldn’t. Something about pasta.
“Thanks,” Jake said as the server set the glasses down. “We’ll be ready to order in a few minutes.”
The waiter nodded and left.
Jake sighed. He’d been playing Monday morning quarterback, both out loud and in his head, ever since the town council meeting. He was starting to get sick of himself.
It brought back memories. This was the guy his other girlfriends had complained about. All except his last, another rep at Regal Hotels who was almost as work-obsessed as he was. He didn’t think he liked this guy very much. But maybe this was the guy he had to be, if he wanted to pull off this project. He’d have to work smarter, use his time more effectively. And that probably meant spending less time enjoying himself.
He felt as if he’d been on vacation. A vacation where he came back feeling relaxed and refreshed, until he set foot in the office and realized what a mess he had waiting for him.
He hadn’t set out to be different here. It had happened by degrees, he supposed, but it had happened fast. Starting around the time a certain blue-eyed brunette had stepped from behind an artificial tree.
Where was Mandy, anyway?
He looked over his shoulder in the direction she’d gone. He’d figured the ladies’ room.
Instead, she stood in the front waiting area, talking to the lanky Scotty Leroux.
The Neanderthal section of his brain felt an immediate surge of jealousy. Fortunately, the analytical side had the sense to step back and watch. He knew a little about body language, and what he saw didn’t look much like a romantic tête-à-tête. She stood slightly back from Leroux, her posture taut, while he leaned against the counter, looking slightly amused.
Not romantic, at least not
at the moment, but he got the impression there was some kind of history there. All because of that nickname? Really?
Then Leroux started out of the lobby, giving her shoulder a pat as he went, and she smiled. Jake hadn’t gotten many smiles out of her tonight. He had himself to blame for that, and that realization didn’t help at all.
He should know better than to read too much into things, but the little scene grated on him like a rock in his shoe as Mandy returned to the table.
He couldn’t stop himself. “So, did Scotty finally give you his class ring?”
It sounded more snide than he’d intended.
Mandy’s face went through a quick series of reactions. First, she looked as if she’d been caught. Then, almost as if she’d been slapped.
Then, as if she’d really, really like to slap him back.
She didn’t dignify the crack with a response. Instead she sat down, her eyes quietly taking in the fact that their drinks had arrived and their menus were still there. She didn’t comment on that either. She picked up her tall red drink and sipped it.
Jake toyed with his coffee, thinking he probably should have ordered decaf. Not that he’d sleep much tonight anyway.
She reached for her glass again, but this time she slid it toward him. “Try it?”
It was as good a peace offering as any, and at least one of them was adult enough to do it. Jake didn’t find the tall red concoction particularly tempting, but he picked it up and took a sip. Not bad, actually.
“You’re right,” he said. “It does taste like gingerbread.”
He set the glass down in front of Mandy. Then, resting his hand on the table, he laid his fingers lightly over hers. She met his eyes with what was almost a smile.
Jake felt it again, like a faint hum running up his arm—that funny little current that seemed to connect them, like a battery sliding into place.
“It’s been a rough night,” he said. “You’ve been awfully patient.”
I’m sorry for being a jerk would have been more on the nose. But for some reason he couldn’t make himself say it. So he went on for the rest of the evening, trying to apologize without actually apologizing, trying to stay away from shoptalk. The trouble was, that didn’t leave much room for conversation, since that was all that kept swirling through his mind.
He’d have to report to the home office in the morning, and he didn’t know how that would turn out. Since he hadn’t gotten a go-ahead from the town council, justifying another month up here to corporate wouldn’t be easy. Just another area where he hadn’t worked up a good Plan B. In all of tonight’s rambling, that was one problem he’d managed to refrain from mentioning to Mandy. He didn’t want to lay that on her, on top of everything else.
It was the first time he could remember having a hard time finding something to say to her.
After dinner, he drove Mandy back to the hotel and walked her to her car.
“It feels weird leaving you here,” he said. “I should be dropping you off at home.”
She quirked a little smile at him. “I’m pretty sure I can find my way.”
Standing under the parking lot’s weak streetlamp, she looked tired. And beautiful. Jake framed her face in his hands and did what he should have done hours ago.
He kissed her, not a quick peck the way he’d done earlier tonight, but the way he always did. He could tell the awkward evening had taken a toll on Mandy, because at first she didn’t respond the way she usually did. He didn’t blame her. But he didn’t give up so easily. He folded his arms around her gently, bringing one hand up to tunnel his fingers through her long, smooth hair. Soon her arms were around him, too, and it was a long time before either of them let go.
He hadn’t said anything right all night.
This was better.
Finally he rested his cheek on top of her head and just held her. Mandy sighed, and he hoped that meant they were back where they’d been when the evening started. Where they should be.
Mandy spoke against his chest. “Jake?”
“Hmm?”
“What happens next?”
“Well, unfortunately, I guess you drive home without me.”
“You know what I mean.”
Of course he did. He’d just been hoping, all night, that she wouldn’t ask.
“I talk to corporate in the morning.” With Mandy in his arms, the words felt foreign. He felt like his more recent, Tall Pine self. I’d much rather be this guy.
“And?”
“And, don’t borrow trouble. It’s too late at night for ‘what-ifs.’ I’ll find out tomorrow.”
It was the kind of thinking that had landed him in this predicament to begin with. But strategizing at this hour wouldn’t do him any good. He needed sleep first, and a little perspective.
So he kissed her again. It might be the cheapest way to avoid any more questions, but it was also the most worthwhile.
Having Mandy in his arms, he decided, didn’t feel like being on vacation.
It felt like home.
Chapter 11
The ugly, ugly ringing of Jake’s cell phone sounded next to his bed. He felt as if he’d been hit by an especially ill-tempered truck.
But as he reached for the phone, he didn’t feel the disorientation that came from being wakened from a sound sleep. It had been a restless night, and he was well aware of where he was and what was happening. Nevertheless, the time displayed on the screen of the phone astonished him: six-ten in the morning.
Yes, Scranton was three hours ahead. But the corporate office should realize California was three hours behind.
“Good morning,” Jake answered dryly.
It was Mark, his regional director. “How’d the meeting go? I didn’t hear from you last night.”
“That’s because I knew it was midnight your time,” Jake said pointedly.
Of course, in the past, he probably would have texted or e-mailed. He really had been obsessive.
He should have let his phone go to voice mail to give himself time to wake up and gather his thoughts. That ship had sailed. So he propped himself up on the pillows, making himself at least semi-vertical, and told Mark about the meeting as neutrally as he could.
“Do you think this one’s worth pursuing?” Mark asked.
Jake tried, with all his resolve, to be objective. It had never come to this. Normally, setbacks and delays were only red tape, not outright resistance. Would he still want to chase Tall Pine if Mandy weren’t here? Yes, he decided. Because he wouldn’t want to lose. But maybe that wasn’t a good enough reason.
Instead, he reminded Mark of the assets that had drawn them to Tall Pine in the first place. A quiet, scenic location less than two hours from Los Angeles. An untapped market. A reasonable tourist trade of people wanting a weekend getaway.
It all still made sense on paper. Until you added in the other column, with the six faces of the town council on the other side.
Margery Williams had been fairly empathetic. Winston Frazier, silently antagonistic. Jake had probably alienated Rick Brewster, and the other three were an unknown quantity.
But those unknowns had voted in favor of a committee.
“Can you make it fly?” Mark persisted.
What happens if I don’t? Jake’s job might not be on the line, but his track record was. A perfect track record. He could walk away and leave it intact.
“Yes,” he said. “I think I can make it work.”
If Mark noticed the wording, I think, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Instead, Mark asked, “The next town council meeting isn’t until next month?”
Mandy sat on the sofa to put on her shoes, trying to put on her resolve at the same time. Today, she was going to tell Jake.
Her cell phone rang.
“Mandy?” Jake’s voice sounded far away and distorted.
“Jake? I’m having trouble hearing you.”
“Sorry. I’m using the Bluetooth. I’m on my way to the airport.”
Her heart lurched.
“They called me back in to the home office. I’ll be gone a couple of weeks.”
Mandy remembered Jake’s spartan hotel room with the orderly, nearly empty closet. That closet must be empty now.
“We touched base about the meeting last night, and they want me back to catch up on things at the office.”
She gulped. That couldn’t be good. It didn’t help that the phone connection made him sound so far away.
“Mandy? Are you there?”
She found herself talking louder, trying to cover the distance. “I’m here.” But you’re not.
“I know the timing’s awful. It wasn’t my idea. I’ll be back. And I’ll call you while I’m gone.”
She gripped the phone, wishing the connection between them didn’t feel so tenuous. Her free hand clutched the stomach that hadn’t recovered yet from yesterday.
In a way, it was a reprieve. She’d resolved to tell him the truth; surely, over the telephone, the truth could wait. She’d have time to think about what to say. To stall.
To worry about it.
This could be a good thing, Jake tried to tell himself.
A couple of weeks away would give him a chance to think more objectively and weigh his priorities. Because they’d certainly changed in the short month he’d spent in Tall Pine. Maybe, back at the office, he’d be able to concentrate, work smarter, and figure out what he’d been doing wrong.
He tried to play the town hall meeting over in his head like a transcript. Heaven knew the words were emblazoned in his memory. But what he kept hearing was Mandy’s voice on the other end of the cell phone connection.
And he kept feeling, even as he drove to the airport and boarded the eastbound flight, that he was heading in the wrong direction.
During the two-hour layover in Dallas, his phone rang.
It was Winston Frazier.
“Mr. Wyndham, I’ll be honest. I didn’t think this Regal Hotel proposal would make it past last night.”
Well, thanks for your honesty.
“Now with this committee, it doesn’t look like it’s going to go away.” Frazier cleared his throat. “My nephew suggested you and I meet to talk about it.”
Do You Believe in Santa? Page 10