Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight

by Kimberly Montague

  As I walked into the lobby, Cerise gave me a pointed look. "Amanda is waiting in your office."

  My forehead wrinkled in confusion as I tried to think of a possible reason for her appearance. Maybe the wedding was back on? I shrugged and walked into my office, peeling off my coat and shaking hands with her.

  "What can I do for you, Amanda?"

  Her lower lip quivered, and she took a tissue from the box on my desk. "I—I came to talk to you—" Her face scrunched up, and she covered it with her hand for a moment before pulling herself together. "I'm sorry. I came because my mom and dad—they're in trouble—financially. Marcus' family was going to pay for everything as long as my parents put up the money for the deposit, but he's blaming me for—he's blaming me. They won't pay for the deposit. They say they paid their portion, which was your planning fee. My parents can't—they—" She started sobbing quietly.

  I could figure out the rest from there. I walked around my desk and patted her arm. "Your parents can't afford it," I finished for her, and she nodded at the floor. Poor girl. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her parents' fault. I couldn't blame them.

  "I—I can pay you," she continued. "It might take me awhile, but I don't want you to think—"

  "I understand what you're going through, but I—" I wanted so much to be able to take this burden off her shoulders, but I had responsibilities too. "Amanda, I have employees and I can't—the deposit money wasn't just for me. It went toward deposits on the band, chairs, glasses, plates, the tent—" Tears fell down her cheeks. I walked around to sit back in my chair, pulling out the checkbook. My stomach turned as it all settled in my mind.

  "I wouldn't ask, really I wouldn't. But they're behind on their mortgage payments. I—"

  "Have they talked with their mortgage company?" I suggested. "Maybe tried to take out a loan from the bank?"

  She covered her face with her hand and nodded. I couldn't understand everything she said, but I could make out the words "tried everything."

  "I really wish I could—I just—" I stared down at the checkbook, wishing for more options. "I can't give you the entire deposit back. I just don't have it to give." I thought about the thirteen hundred Petey said I'd be making that could go toward keeping the inn running the following month and wrote it on the check. "This is the best I can do, Amanda. I'm sorry. I wish things had worked out differently for you." I ripped out the check and closed my eyes as I handed it to her. I'd have trouble making my own payments in the months to come, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that. I still had time to find a way.

  "Thank you. You don't know how much—I've been so worried." She didn't look relieved though, she looked heartbroken.

  "Just do me a favor?"

  Tears were still spilling from her eyes as she looked up at me. "Anything."

  "Don't let that asshole back in your life."

  She shook her head, but the pain that crossed her face said more than any words could have. It was like seeing my own reflection from several months earlier.

  Amanda left, and I fell back into my chair, too tired to call Petey. He was going to be so angry with me.

  "What was that about?" Cerise sat in the chair Amanda had just left.

  Staring blankly at the computer screen, I answered her. "I gave her part of the deposit money back."

  "You what! Why on earth—"

  Calmly, without inflection, I explained, "Marcus won't pay for it. He's blaming her. Her parents can't afford it. They're behind on their mortgage payments."

  "You will be too, Morgan! None of that is your problem."

  I leveled a very serious stare on Cerise. "I couldn't add to what she's going through. I wish someone could have lifted a bit of the weight off my shoulders when—"

  "Oh, Morgan." She sighed sadly. "It wasn't your fault either, you know."

  "I should have seen it coming, Cerise. I should have known."

  "Hey, none of us saw it. He was a manipulative shit. You couldn't have known that he was out for your money. He played it off far too well."

  I let out a relieved breath. "At least Marcus didn't leave Amanda at the altar."

  "I'd like to kill that asshole."

  "Brent or Marcus?" I asked sarcastically.

  "Both, right now. I can't believe you gave her back the deposit. I mean, I believe it. I know you too well, but still." She just shook her head, but I knew she was fully aware of my financial situation.

  "I didn't give it all back, just what I could. I've got a month maybe two to figure things out and try to get the inn booked before I get in real trouble." There were very few options left in terms of saving money. At this point, I needed to seriously consider every one of them.

  "What about that guy? Uh, Sean? Didn't he say he could give you some business advice? Did you ever send him the info for the website?"

  "I never heard from him again after I asked him to tell me his last name. He's a creep, Cerise."

  "He's not a creep. I know it. I feel it in my gut, and you know my gut is never wrong. Just text him, and ask him for help."

  I shook my head. I wasn't about to go groveling to some psychopath for help. I wasn't at that point… yet. "No."

  "At least send him the website info. What do you have to lose? If he screws up the site, you can just reset it all, right?"

  "Yes, but—"

  She leaned forward putting her palms on the desk and sitting up in a way that made her more imposing. "Then what's the big deal?"

  "I'm not comfortable with it, not when he won't even give me his last name."

  She shrugged and looked like she might say more but the phone rang, interrupting her.

  I picked up the receiver. "The Olde English, this is Morgan, how can I assist you?" A voice I really wasn't ready to hear spoke up—Petey was calling to check in. "Hi Petey. Um, I'm doing okay. I'm just really busy at the moment, can I call you back?"

  Cerise shook her head and mouthed the word "chicken" at me.

  "Thanks Petey, bye." After hanging up, I stood up and grabbed my coat, feeling nauseous. "I need some air."

  Cerise nodded to me as I hurried toward the door. "Just take some time, Morgan. I've got everything covered here.

  Sean the Stalker

  I don't know how long I was gone on my little walk. I just kept hoping to think of a way around telling Petey what I'd done. If I could just figure out how to make The Olde English popular like it had been when Mom first opened it. I wanted an idea to come to me so badly. Unfortunately, the only thing that came to me was rain. By the time I got back to the inn, I was soaked straight through in freezing raindrops and feeling pretty stupid for leaving without an umbrella. I huffed over the literal and figurative meaning of my not having anything to shield me from the rain.

  Cerise took one look at me and told me to go home and take a hot bath. One of the perks of living next to the inn was that I could easily go home, and if I was needed, it only took me two minutes to walk back. When I got home though, the only thing that I had any energy to do was change into sweats and crawl under a pile of blankets.

  I was just succeeding at hiding from the world when my cell phone rang. I was so sure it was Petey trying to hunt me down that I didn't even bother to look at the caller ID.

  "Hi, Petey. Sorry I didn't call you back."

  "Who's Petey?"

  My jaw dropped open at the smooth, deep voice of a total stranger. I couldn't place the emotions in his voice, but it did strange things to my heartbeat. "Uh, who's this?"

  "I asked you first."

  I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at the caller ID. I recognized the number immediately, which I admit is pretty pathetic since it demonstrated that I didn't get a lot of phone calls. Sean the Stalker. "You are stalking me."

  His laugh was deep and full. His confidence wasn't quite arrogance, but it was close. "I'm not stalking you, sweetheart. Your friend sent me an email. I didn't want to go behind your back, so I just decided to call you. Is that, uh, okay?"


  I thought about that for a moment. It was fine that he called me, but my mind went to what else he'd said. "She emailed you? What did she say?"

  "She just said you could use some of that advice I offered you."

  His response was clear and unwavering, and I wouldn't have doubted him, but I knew Cerise better than that. He could be vague, but Cerise was incapable of that. "She told you everything, didn't she?"

  He sighed. "She told me a lot, sweetie. I'm sure it's not everything, but it's enough of an overview to give you some advice—if you'll let me, that is." I silently weighed my options, but before I could get into some of the finer arguments, he interrupted the wheels turning in my brain. "What do you have to lose? You don't have to take any of my advice; all you have to do is listen."

  He was right. I had a good brain. I was more than capable of distinguishing crappy advice from solid information. "I'm listening."

  "Well, first off. Your website needs help. Your friend, uh, I don't know how to say her name."

  "Sir-ees," I enunciated.

  "Okay, Cerise. She said you created the current website?"

  "Yeah, but I just used a template from some free site. I didn't actually know what I was doing."

  "Well it's good for a beginner, but you need it to look a bit more professional. I talked to my web guy, Troy, and he said he can set you up with an online reservation system, a streamlined contact interface, a more extensive photo gallery, and a section for you to list menus for your restaurant."

  That sounded awesome, but there was no way in hell I could afford it. "How much does he charge?"

  "Free. He's a friend."

  I envied the lighthearted way he just threw around his friend's hard work, like it wouldn't matter that I didn't pay him. Something told me Sean the Stalker had plenty of money. "No. I can't—"

  "Yes you can. It's easy. Just send me your domain information."

  "I appreciate the offer, but we're not friends. You don't even know me." It sounded harsh on my lips, but it was the truth.

  He sighed loudly. "We've been through this before. Look, when my parents were struggling, there was this other restaurant on the other side of town. It was a small place like my parents' but they were doing so much more business. When my mom and dad were ready to give up, they went there to try to get some ideas. The owner sat with them for a few hours going through suggestions. Without his help, they never would have made it. Now, their restaurant is successful all by itself. Everyone needs a little help at some point. If I can do that for you, I'll feel like I was able to give something back—you know, repay it in some way."

  He really sounded sincere and truly appreciative of the help his parents received. It still didn't feel right, though. "But your friend, doesn't he spend a lot of time setting up websites? I don't want to take his time when he's getting nothing for it."

  "Oh, don't worry. I take good care of him—better than he deserves sometimes, but he's not hurting in any way. Besides, he loves messing with websites. I think he'd marry the damn machine if he could." He chuckled a little, and I smiled to myself. Maybe Sean the Stalker was a good guy after all.

  Karma worked in weird ways. Maybe I scored good karma points giving some money back to Amanda, and this was my good deed coming back to me. In truth, I really wasn't in a position to say no to any help anyone wanted to offer. "Okay," I gave in. "I'll email you the information when I get back to my office."

  "You're not there now?"

  I couldn't tell if it was surprise or just curiosity in his voice, maybe a little of both. "No, I'm at home in bed."

  "At this time of day? Are you sick?"

  I wasn't sure how I felt about him judging me, but I was too tired to think about it. "I went for a walk in the rain and got a little wet and cold—it's 35 degrees out there."

  "35? You're lucky you didn't catch pneumonia."

  He was seriously overreacting. "It's not that cold. And you should know that coming from Minnesota. Or was that a lie?"

  "So suspicious," he teased. "I grew up in Minnesota, sweetheart. But I haven't spent a lot of time there in years. It's 73 here today, so right now 35 sounds freezing. Besides, what on earth were you doing walking in the rain?"

  "I just needed some air." I could hear someone in the background, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.

  "Hold on a sec." The static noise was clearly him covering the phone with his hand. I thought surely a guy like him would know how to mute his phone, but the muffled sounds went away quickly. "Sorry about that. So you got some air. Sounds like you had a long morning?"

  "You could certainly say that."

  "Your friend said something about a canceled wedding and a deposit. What's that about?"

  "Ugh," I groaned. I didn't want to talk about it. I wasn't too upset about Cerise's interference before, but after hearing that she'd mentioned so much information, I was less than pleased. "Her fiance' cheated on her, and she had to cancel the wedding. He was supposed to pay, but left her parents with the bill. They couldn't afford it."

  He was quiet for a moment, pausing instead of giving the quick responses I had adjusted to. Finally, he asked in a very slow voice, "What else?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "There's more to the story. What aren't you saying?"

  Of course there was more to the story, but I wasn't about to blurt out my life story to a stranger. "That's all. I gave her as much of the deposit back as I could. It wasn't her fault her fiancé was an asshole. Sometimes you just can't see these things coming." He was quiet again. So quiet, I thought I had lost the call. "You there? Hello."

  "I'm still here, I was just thinking. Well deciding really."

  "Deciding what?" I asked with a large amount of curiosity.

  He sighed again and sounded like he was weighing his words carefully. "How far to push you."

  I gripped the phone tight. "How about you don't push me at all? That sounds like something I would like for a change."

  He made this sweet, sympathetic aww kind of groan that made me feel a little comforted and made me want to cry all at the same time. "It sounds like you've had a tough time, sweetie. But sometimes the right push can get things back on track."

  I didn't respond. What did he know about the right kind of push? Everyone had been pushing me in a hundred directions since Mom died, and no one seemed to understand which one I "needed." I guess I was quiet for too long because he launched right into his "helpful" pushing.

  "When did you not see things coming?"

  I shook my head at his confusion. "No, I was talking about her—the bride."

  "Yes, I got that. And I'm talking about you. I can hear it in your voice. It's been much higher since I asked about the wedding."

  I contemplated hanging up or lying, but the same "who cares" feeling came over me like it had when he asked me about how tough it'd been losing Mom. There was no need to hide anything from this guy. He was a stranger—no strings attached kind of friendship. "Two years ago an asshole dumped me, end of story."

  He blew a loud breath of air into the phone. "That wasn't a story, and you know it. Why did he dump you?"

  I groaned. "I really don't want to talk about this."

  "Yeah, I got that. But you wouldn't be fighting it so much if it wasn't still bothering you, so come on, out with it."

  "What are you a therapist?" I accused.

  "Let's just say my job requires me to study the human character, and from the sound of it, you're hiding from yourself. If it's not a big deal, why are you so afraid to talk about it?"

  "I'm not afraid," I said defensively. "I just don't want to talk about it." He was quiet again. Maybe I did need therapy. Why was it still so hard to talk about? Wasn't I over it? "Ugh! Freaking total stranger, seriously?" I mumbled as I scooted farther under my covers, pulling them up over my head. "Can't believe—like it's gonna help."

  "What are you doing?" Amusement was in his voice. "You sound weird."

  "I pulled the covers over my he
ad."

  He chuckled. "Comfortable now?"

  "Yes, fabulous."

  "Okay, talk," he instructed.

  I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Um, I was with a guy and, we were together for awhile. He—we decided to get married—and I—we— well, he—"

  "Sweetie, is it really that difficult?"

  I let out a loud breath. "Yes."

  "What was his name?"

  "Brent." His name on my tongue was like vomit to my taste buds. I couldn't even say it without disgust and anger blinding me.

  "I know a Brent—total bastard—must be the name. How long were you together?"

  "Two years exactly."

  "Exactly? He broke up with you on your anniversary?"

  We'd gotten to this sooner than I had expected, and it still hurt like hell to say it. "Our anniversary and our—our wedding day." There was no response. I didn’t know how to react to the silence. The first thing everyone always said was "Oh, I'm so sorry. What a jerk. You deserve better." I'd always nod and thank them and then go on about my merry way. Only… I wasn't so merry. "You still there?" I asked the silence.

  "Yeah. Sorry, you just surprised me is all. So this chick with the canceled wedding—she reminds you of you? Is that why you felt bad enough to give the deposit back?"

  I thought about that possibility, but Amanda and I were totally different in a lot of ways. "No. She's nothing like me. And it's not her fault. She had no way to see it coming."

  "But you should have seen it coming from this Brent guy? Why's that?"

  I closed my eyes, remembering all the talks we'd had about money. The time he spent talking about the rich lifestyle we'd have in the future. I thought he was ambitious and determined to make his way in life in order to have those things, but it had been an assumption on my part that I should have asked him about. "There were hints I didn't pick up on."

  "Had he cheated before?"

  "What?" It took me a minute to realize where he'd gone wrong in reading into my previous experiences. "No. He didn't cheat on me. He thought—" I sighed loudly into the phone, hearing my breath bounce back at me. "He thought I would inherit a lot of money. My mom's family has money—they're pretty rich. He thought they would give her a large pile of it one day. But they, uh, she—my mom—they cut her out—of my grandpa's will—because of me."