by Beth Andrews
She kept up a steady stream of light chatter the rest of the way to the restaurant that Fay had recommended. They found it easily enough, tucked between a pharmacy and the newspaper office. They went inside the brick building and a sign at the bottom pointed them to the stairs. The second floor was a large dining room with wooden floors and cozy tables. The hostess seated them by the window overlooking Main Street.
“This is great,” Daphne said, shrugging out of her coat and taking off her gloves and hat. “Oh, look, there’s a bookstore.” She glanced at Oakes across from her, saw him grinning at her. “What?”
“Your hair, it’s sort of...” He waved his hands around his head. “Everywhere.”
She glanced at her reflection in the window. Laughed. “It looks like I’ve been struck by lightning,” she said, trying to smooth it out, but static electricity was stronger than her feeble attempts. With a shrug of defeat, she put her hat back on. “How’s that?”
“You have a strand...” He reached across the table and tucked hair under the hat. “There.”
“Thanks.”
“You look good,” he said. “Cute.”
“Hooray. Just what every woman wants to hear. But considering this hat does have a pom-pom on top, I’ll take cute and run with it.”
The waitress came and took their drink orders, told them the specials and left them to study their menus. “I can’t imagine many women being that carefree about their hair or what they looked like,” Oakes said. “At least not the women I know.”
“I can only imagine how the women you know would react to flyaway hair,” she said, knowing his social crowd.
“You’re very self-possessed,” he said. “And I mean that in the very best way.”
“I figured. Thanks. It took me a long time to learn how to be happy with myself. It was tough at school, being different from everyone else. Mostly I felt invisible, and for a while I did my best to fit in. Until I realized that I didn’t want to fit in. And I didn’t want to be friends with anyone who would pretend I didn’t exist, so I went my own way, left people alone and they left me alone.”
“That sounds lonely,” he said, setting his menu aside.
She wanted to shrug off his concern but she wouldn’t lie. Not to him. “It was. Luckily, I still had good friends from the grade school I used to go to, and from my neighborhood. They were always there for me, as was my family. I have several cousins around my age and I could always go to my mom and Zach if I needed anything. At least, until Zach joined the marines. That was when I really learned how to fend for myself.”
The waitress came back with their drinks and took their food orders.
“It was tough,” Oakes said, sipping his water, “when Zach signed up. Dad had a fit, threatened to use all his power, pull any string he had to make sure Zach never saw any action.”
“I remember. Zach was furious. I think my mom would have allowed your dad to do whatever he wanted, whatever it took to keep Zach safe, but in the end, she knew she couldn’t stop Zach from doing what he felt he had to do. His entire life, all he ever wanted was to protect others. Like he protected me and Mom.”
“From your father?” Oakes asked quietly.
She pretended great interest in removing the wrapper from her straw. Nodded. Then cleared her throat. “Zach threatened to cut your father out of his life even more if Clinton Senior, made even one phone call,” she said, changing the subject back to the one at hand, not wanting to talk about her father or her past. It was over. No sense dwelling on it. “I didn’t think your father would back down but Zach got his way. He was sent right into the thick of it. Sometimes I hate him for it,” she admitted. “All those days of wondering if he was all right, knowing he was putting himself in danger. Not very sympathetic of me, I guess.”
“I know what you mean. I wondered if he wasn’t putting himself in danger as a way to prove something to Senior. To the world.”
She considered that. “Maybe. He’s always had that chip on his shoulder. There’s something inside of him that pushes him, that’s for sure. It’s why he’ll rarely accept help, even now when he needs it the most. I think he mistakes it for sympathy or pity when it’s really just people wanting to support him. Needing to do something so we don’t feel so helpless.”
Oakes nodded. “We can’t force people to accept help.”
“I know. It was one of the toughest lessons I learned and one of the first things they teach psychologists. And it’s too bad, really. Because I could help the crap right out of Zach.”
Oakes laughed and she warmed all over. She liked making him laugh. The waitress returned with their lunches and they enjoyed a companionable meal of thick sandwiches on homemade bread and fresh, crisp chips. Despite Oakes’s earlier insistence, they stayed past his allotted hour. She couldn’t remember enjoying lunch or a date more.
Not that he’d classify it as a date—she was certain he wouldn’t. But she was going to go right ahead and do so, if only in her mind. She liked him. She really did. When she’d first fallen for him, it had been all reaction. All feeling. And even she wasn’t deluded enough to believe that a connection, one that lasts a lifetime, could be made in an instant. But the more she got to know Oakes, the more time they’d spent together, the more she’d realized how much they actually had in common.
Yes, they had their differences, too. Enough to make their conversations interesting. And Lord knew they’d had completely different circumstances growing up, but those experiences had shaped them, made them who they were today, gave them each unique perspectives on life. She liked how he listened, really listened to her. To her opinions. Her thoughts.
They went back outside to find it was still snowing, the white stuff building up on the sidewalks, on cars and piling on tree limbs, bending them. “That was fun,” she said as a group of teenagers passed them. “Come on,” she teased when he remained silent. “Say it was fun.”
His lips twitched. “It was fun.”
“Say ‘Thank you, Daphne, for tearing me away from my horribly boring law work and forcing me out into the fresh air.’”
“How about I just say thanks for lunch?”
“I suppose that’ll do.” She tugged her gloves on. “Do you know how to get back on your own?”
“I think I can manage,” he said in a dry, I-am-male-and-therefore-superior-at-navigating-than-you-woman tone. “Why?”
“I thought I’d check out the bookstore. I need to get a gift for the happy couple.”
“The wedding’s tomorrow,” he pointed out.
“Well, yes, I suppose I could wait and pick something up in the morning or early afternoon, but I figured since I’m downtown, why not just get it now?”
“No. I meant the wedding is tomorrow, as in, you haven’t bought their gift yet?”
“Oh. You’re one of those people.”
“Those people?”
“Sure. There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who have a closet filled with gift wrap and boxes and gift bags and bows and ribbons all neatly organized. Who send back RSVPs the day they get them, who have a stack of greeting cards for every occasion, who buy gifts weeks, even months ahead of time. And those who mail birthday cards two days after the birthday, have perfected the art of wrapping gifts using whatever is handy including, but not limited to, garbage bags and the comics from the Sunday paper. You are the former. I’m the latter.”
“I take it you haven’t finished your Christmas shopping then?”
“Only because I had to. Usually I wait until the last minute. I love the energy, the excitement of going to the stores on Christmas Eve.”
“You mean the panic.”
She laughed. “That, too. I’m guessing that not only has your Christmas shopping been done since Thanksgiving, but that you bought your brother’s wedding gift over the summer
.”
“You’d be wrong. I bought it the day after they announced their engagement.”
“I’m not sure,” she said, “but I think somehow during this conversation, we switched gender roles.”
“Would it help if I said my mother actually chose the gift?”
“It does help.”
“You know,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind checking out the bookstore myself. A lawyer can never have too many books. Maybe I’ll find a boring one on some obscure law topic no one has cared about in two hundred years.”
“If that’s your way of saying you’re enjoying spending time with me and don’t want it to end, then I say, come on.”
* * *
OAKES WAS GLAD Daphne hadn’t expected an answer. He did enjoy spending time with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so interested in a woman, so attracted. He’d like to blame the kiss. After all, a man can’t be held completely responsible for his reaction to a beautiful woman’s kiss.
But it was more than that, more than just physical, more than just his wanting to kiss her again, to peel that coat off her, to lay her on that huge bed back in his room at the B and B and make love to her.
It was her. Her laugh and her insightfulness and her intelligence and her humor. Her energy and spirit and zest for life, her enthusiasm for it.
She was appealing as hell and the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be with her. But he had to be smart. Had to be cautious. He couldn’t make a mistake, couldn’t make a misstep, not with Zach’s sister.
As long as he kept things between them platonic, he’d be okay. They could be friends. He liked being her friend, wanted to continue seeing her in that role for years to come. He just couldn’t sleep with her.
As long as he kept his hands to himself, he’d be all right.
The bookstore was a charming, homey place with a café in the back that filled the first floor with the scent of coffee and pastries. He and Daphne split up once they got inside, her going to the gift section while he browsed the stacks of the latest bestselling fiction.
He was adding a hardcover to the pile he planned on buying when his phone buzzed. He checked the caller ID. He thought of the kiss he and Daphne had shared, thought of what his mother’s reaction to it would be if she knew and winced.
Damn guilt. Kept jabbing him in the gut, reminding him of what was important. Of how careful he needed to be.
He cleared his throat before answering, “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey.” In the background, he could hear the strains of “Santa Baby” and the loud hum of conversation. “I’m at the store looking for that CD your father wanted, but I can’t find it.”
Not his actual father, but Michael, the man who’d helped raise Oakes, had treated him and loved him just as if he were his own. When other people spoke of his father, they meant Clinton Senior. “I’m at a bookstore that carries CDs right now,” he said, crossing to that section. “I’ll look for it.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said. She must have gone to a quieter spot because when she spoke next her voice came through clearer and the background noise faded. “And I’m glad to hear you’re not stuck in your room working. That you’re getting out.”
He glanced at the area where he’d last seen Daphne.
“I, uh...took a lunch break,” he said, telling himself he wasn’t really lying, that he was just withholding a certain detail to spare his mom’s feelings. “The bookstore is across the street from the restaurant where I ate so I thought I’d stop in.”
There. Not really a lie, just not all of the truth.
“Found it,” he continued, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulled out the jazz CD.
“Wonderful,” Rosalyn said gratefully. “That’s the last thing on my list, and I would have been done already if he hadn’t mentioned wanting it the other day.”
“He’ll love it,” Oakes assured her.
“Thank you for getting it. So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Back to work then the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner tonight.” Though he wasn’t sure why he was going to the wedding rehearsal when he didn’t actually have a part in the ceremony.
“How’s everything going?” she asked and he knew she was both interested and concerned. Though she never said a bad thing against Senior, never had any unkind words against any member of the Bartasavich family and had always made sure Oakes spent time with them, had shared her son with them as generously as possible, that didn’t mean she liked it or was happy about it.
“It’s good,” he said, setting the CD aside with his books and heading toward the back of the store.
“How is Senior?”
“He’s not coming in until this afternoon,” Oakes said. Since his stroke, Senior had been wheelchair bound. His full-time nurse would be traveling with him.
“Well, I hope his condition improves,” she said and he knew she meant it. She may not have gotten the best deal out of her first marriage, but she was kind enough to not want Senior to suffer. “And Zach, too, of course.”
“Zach couldn’t make it,” he told her. “I think he thought it would be too difficult.”
“I can’t blame him. But he is progressing?”
“He is,” Oakes said, spying Daphne sitting at one of the café’s tables, two coffees and a pastry of some sort in front of her as she read a book. “Actually, his sister is here. At the bookstore with me.”
Silence. He didn’t want to rub his mother’s nose in the fact that he was taking Daphne to the wedding, but he wouldn’t hide it, either. Wouldn’t pretend it was some dirty little secret. Something he was ashamed of. “Well, then,” Rosalyn said, sounding strained. “I’ll let you go. Although, Oakes...”
His hand tightened on the phone. “Yes?”
“Just... I know it’s none of my concern, but Daphne might feel left out. She doesn’t really know anyone there, other than you.”
Leave it to his mother to dislike the idea of him being there with Daphne, but still be worried about Daphne’s feelings.
He’d had that thought already and knew she was right. Daphne had come to the wedding only knowing a few people and those people were all already part of a unit—his family. “She’s not the type of person to be intimidated by being somewhere alone or where she doesn’t know people,” he said thoughtfully as he watched Daphne sip her coffee without taking her eyes from whatever she was reading. She’d taken off her hat—it was really warm in the store—and her hair was all crazy like it had been at the restaurant, but she didn’t keep playing with it, didn’t try to smooth it. “She’s extremely self-confident and aware. Especially for someone her age.”
Except she’d admitted to him last night how uncomfortable she’d been at O’Riley’s. How she’d been insecure as a teenager surrounded by Houston’s elite.
The silence on the other end of the phone was loaded. “I knew you and Daphne were...friendly,” Rosalynn said softly, “but I hadn’t realized you two were that close. It sounds as if you’ve gotten to know her very well over the years.”
“We’re friends,” he said simply.
And that friendship had definitely grown stronger during the time Zach was in the hospital. Oakes and Daphne would grab a cup of coffee or a bite to eat. Nothing major, nothing significant. Or at least, it hadn’t been to Oakes. He’d been trying to keep her mind off of Zach and how dire things had looked. He’d known that Zach would want someone to watch out for his mother and sister and Oakes had naturally stepped in. Again.
“Well, she’s incredibly lucky to have you in her life,” Rosalynn said, sounding worried. Wary. “All I’m saying is that she’ll probably be more comfortable having you close by.”
Daphne seemed pretty comfortable no matter what the situation. Be
ing around her, on the other hand, made him decidedly uncomfortable. Antsy and worried and confused.
But he didn’t want to stay away. He didn’t want to lose Daphne. He wanted to spend more time with her, forget all the reasons they shouldn’t be together—all the very valid reasons—and just enjoy the moment.
He and his mother bade each other goodbye and Oakes put his phone back into his pocket as he walked over to Daphne. “I see you found the pastry section.”
She looked up at him and grinned. “No pastry is safe around me. They can’t hide.”
“I hope it went that well finding a wedding gift?”
She gestured toward a picture frame. “Got it.”
“That was fast.”
“I don’t waste time mulling over things. I know what I like when I see it and I get it. Or go after it,” she added, giving him a small smile. She nudged one of the cups toward him. “I got you a black coffee that tastes exactly like coffee.”
He watched her sip her own drink. “And what did you get?”
“A gingerbread latte. And you missed a spectacular whipped-cream mustache. At least, from the look that kid gave me, I’m guessing it was pretty great.” She inclined her head toward a little boy two tables over eating a cookie. “I considered keeping it for a while but I wasn’t sure when you were going to be off the phone.”
He took the lid off his cup—those things were breeding grounds for germs—and sipped the coffee. “Thanks for this. And that was my mom,” he said in explanation. “She was in a panic over a last-minute gift for my stepdad. Luckily, I found what she needed right here.”
“Oakes to the rescue. But then, I’m sure you get that a lot. You seem to like saving people, the way you agreed to let me be your date for tomorrow. Not to mention how you swept in last night and took me away from that perfectly lovely bachelorette party because I was feeling self-conscious and having a bit of a pity party.”