You Had Me at Good-bye

by Tracey Bateman

  Dinner isn’t quite finished when the doorbell rings. “What is this—Grand Central Station?” Mom grumbles with an uncharacteristic lack of grace—even the fake grace that befits the upper class.

  Dad rises from his cushioned chair, re-covered in a pale green Italian silk brocade with small pink flowers. “I’ll see who it is, darling.”

  “The reception the other night was nice, Mother,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You left early. Your father and I had an announcement.”

  “I was there for the announcement. It was nice of you and Dad. I’m sure Brynn will be able to find a great house for the amount of money she’ll have to work with.”

  “Really, Dancy. Talking about money is vulgar. Where are your manners?”

  “Somewhere in my rat-infested apartment, I guess.”

  Her eyes widen in alarm.

  “I’m kidding, Mom.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  Dad returns to the dining room with Kale and Brynn. A real family reunion. Everyone sits. “Do you want us to set more places?” Mother asks after accepting Kale’s kiss on the cheek. Kale shakes his head. “We’ve eaten. We just came by to drop off the deed to the condo. And to thank you guys again.”

  Mother takes a shuddering breath. “Well, as much as we’d like you to stay in New York, we can’t live your life for you.” Very mature. I’m proud of my mom. She’s growing in character right before my eyes.

  Kale turns to Brandon. “So, I assume you’ve apologized to Dancy for almost getting her and her best friend killed the other night.”

  Alarm flashes in Brandon’s eyes, and anger shoots through me. “Leave him alone, Kale.” I mean, Kale doesn’t realize what Brandon’s being faced with. A little compassion is in order.

  “No.” Brandon stands. “What’s he talking about?”

  Kale stares at our parents. “Are you telling me no one told him we thought he ran away?”

  “What?” Brandon throws me a look of pure bewilderment.

  Kale gives him a stern frown. “Dad thought you ran away because he couldn’t find you after the party, Brandon. When Dad called Dancy, she was so worried she took the train all the way to Jersey looking for you.”

  “That’s not safe at night!” Brandon appears a little shell-shocked.

  “Well, as you can see, nothing happened, and I lived to tell the tale. And it’s not your fault Dad didn’t know you were home the whole time. If anyone needs to be held accountable, it’s Dad.”

  “Dancy, really.” My mother utters her first words in quite a while—and they’re in defense of him? “Treat your father with some respect.”

  “No, darling.” Dad presses his hand to Mom’s. “Dancy is right. I should have looked more closely. To be honest, I should have known when he left the reception in the first place.”

  Well, then. I think that about sums things up, only who can wrap their mind around Dad taking responsibility for anything?

  “Dancy, what made you look there?” Brandon asks.

  “I was afraid if you were upset, you’d go find your mom. I was worried, and I wanted to be sure you were okay.”

  I see conflict in Brandon’s face. He’s obviously ashamed that he could have gotten me killed, and yet an odd joy lights his eyes. I push up from my chair and walk around the table. “This might not be a typical family, but we are family and we take care of each other.”

  “You have a lot of guts.” Brandon’s face splits into a crooked grin and melts my heart. I throw my arms around him and pull him close. And he doesn’t even try to pull away. Instead, he grips my shoulders and clings to me like a beggar clutches a crust of stale bread. When we turn loose, we both wipe our eyes and grin.

  I think now might be the time to talk to my dad. I turn to him. “Can we talk now?”

  He looks a little dazed and gives me a wordless nod. “My office.”

  Closing the door behind me, I draw a deep breath. “I went to Jersey the other night to find Brandon’s mom.”

  His eyes flash. “What happened?”

  “I found her mother, who clearly isn’t sick.”

  He scowls and pours himself a brandy at the wet bar (who needs a wet bar in their office?). After tossing it back, he meets my gaze. “I know. That was our story so Brandon wouldn’t find out his mom didn’t want him anymore.”

  I have to admit, I’m surprised my dad was in on the deception, let alone behind the whole thing. “Does Mother know?”

  “Of course.”

  Of course. As if he’s never kept anything from her. Okay, deep breath. This isn’t the point. Brandon is what matters here.

  “So what about Brandon? Don’t you think it’s time he knows the truth?”

  Dad sinks into his brown leather chair. “I figured she’d be back by now and want him back.”

  “Okay, Dad, you figured that, but it didn’t happen. As a matter of fact, even her mother has no idea where Mary is.”

  “I do.”

  I gape. “What? Where? And how did you find out?”

  “She called and asked for money a few days ago. She’s in California with some guy who is twenty years younger than she is.”

  “What about her son?”

  “I’m taking care of him.”

  That’s debatable, but I won’t belabor the point. “What about in February, when you and Mother move to Florida? How can you take him away from Juilliard? He should have this chance, Dad.” My hands are shaking, but I look him square in the eye. “I want him. I was thinking I could cash in my trust fund and find a place somewhere. If you could keep paying his tuition and buying his clothes, we should make it fine on what I can earn as a freelancer. And if I need to take on a part-time job, I don’t mind doing that.”

  I’m not sure what I expect, but it certainly isn’t “Wait here.” Which is what Dad says to me. “I didn’t want to tell you this way.” He stands up and walks out the door, returning a minute later with my mother.

  “Tell her, Caroline.” Dad’s face is practically glowing.

  I look to my mother and wait.

  “We’ve decided that since Kale and Brynn don’t want the condo, we want to give it to you. We know you’ve always loved it.”

  What on earth is she talking about? “But you sold it!”

  “Who told you that?” Dad asks.

  “You did. The night of the reception you and Mother made that big announcement about using the money from the sale to buy the newlyweds their own house.”

  Mother shakes her head. “You misunderstood. We sold your father’s condo. This one. It was worth considerably less than the one overlooking the park, of course, but housing is extremely affordable in Oklahoma.”

  My head is spinning. But I have enough clarity to realize what my parents have just given me. I let out a squeal. “Are you telling me the condo is mine?”

  Dad smiles. “As soon as we get the deed signed over to you.”

  Then something dawns. “This is the perfect solution for Brandon and me.”

  “I don’t understand.” Mother’s brow furrows. But Dad gets the point, because he averts his gaze as though he’s ashamed. And in reality he should be, but that doesn’t diminish my joy.

  “Brandon’s going to live with me.”

  “Ridiculous. The boy will come to Florida with his father.”

  The pleading in my dad’s eyes touches a chord deep inside me. I realize something. He wants to do everything he can to be the husband my mother deserves, after all he’s put her through. Sadly, that means Brandon doesn’t have a chance at our father’s attention. Even if Brandon did go to Florida with them, he would always be disappointed.

  “It’s the best solution, Mother. Brandon needs to have a chance to further his music, and you two need time alone. This is what I want to do for him.”

  “What are you talking about?” Brandon stands in the doorway, and I practically run to him.

  “Mother and Dad gave me the condo. Do you know what that means?”<
br />
  He shrugs. “You get a big place all to yourself?”

  “Wrong.” I take his hand. I know it’s a corny display of affection, but I can’t help myself. “You and I get a big place to ourselves.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “If Dad agrees . . .” I stare at my dad and my heart lifts as he gives me a nod. “I want you to live with me in New York so you can go to Juilliard. And now that I have the condo, there’s more than enough room. What do you say?”

  Brandon lets out a whoop and lifts me effortlessly. “You rock!”

  I can’t stop smiling as I wander away from Dad’s. He stuffed money into my pocket and told me to take a cab, so I hail one, and lo and behold it’s the same cabbie from last night.

  His face lights up at the sight of me. “Looks like you made it back in one piece.”

  I grin at him. “I did.”

  “Did the Man upstairs answer your prayer about the kid?”

  “Better than I prayed for. I get to keep him when my parents move to Florida.”

  “What are you, some kind of saint or something?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Where to?”

  I open my mouth to give him the address to the apartment I share with my friends. But instead what comes out is, “988 Fifth Avenue.”

  He whistles. “Pretty nifty.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  I pull out my phone and notice that Jack tried to call. Rather than call him back, I send a text. “Can you meet me at my mom’s place?”

  A minute later, I get a text back. “Better idea. Fifty-ninth and Seventh.”

  A smile touches my lips as I snap my phone shut.

  “Excuse me.”

  The cabbie glances in the rearview mirror. “Yeah?”

  “Can you take me to Fifty-ninth and Seventh instead?”

  He shrugs. “You want to go to Central Park at seven thirty on a cold night like this one?”

  “Didn’t exactly remember it was Central Park, but yeah. I’m meeting someone there.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  “I’m afraid not. This one’s already taken.”

  My heart nearly stops when the cabbie pulls alongside the curb at the park. Jack is standing there, waiting. When he notices me in the cab, he walks over and opens the door, helping me out with his gloved hand.

  “I’m glad you got in touch. I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me again after our misunderstanding.”

  “You said you were going to explain. No matter what, I’d like to be your friend, Jack.”

  He keeps his hand wrapped firmly around mine. “I’m glad.”

  He leads me to a horse-drawn carriage under a streetlight. “Shall we?”

  “A carriage ride through Central Park?” I give him a little nudge. “You could give a girl the wrong idea, you know.”

  I climb into the seat and he climbs in after me. “What idea?”

  “That maybe you want to date me?” I know I’m being bold, but this is the new me. The me who owns a home and takes care of her teenage brother. It’s time to go after what I want in life. And I want Jack Quinn. Cate Able is too much of a prima donna to deserve Jack. I mean, why does she have to be so reclusive anyway? Is she that important?

  He turns to me and the look in his eyes steals my breath. “Then you wouldn’t have the wrong idea. You see, I’d very much like to see you as a date.”

  “What about Cate Able? You said you two are in a relationship.”

  He turns to me and hesitates just a second before saying, “Dancy, you are looking at Cate Able.”

  I’m sure I must have heard him wrong. Surely he didn’t just say he’s Cate Able. I give a short laugh.

  “It’s true. Cate Able is my pen name.”

  I grin. “Come on.”

  “Seriously. And I’m tired of the secrecy. Which is why I killed off my lead character. I want to leave Cate Able behind and write under my own name.”

  I’m shocked. Jack is completely and utterly telling the truth. I sit completely still, trying to take it all in.

  “Do you forgive me for my deception?”

  “I suppose I have no choice. After all, you did trust me to edit your book.”

  “You did a fine job of it, too. Of course, I have a lot of work to do on the manuscript, thanks to you.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “And just for the record, I’m honored to hear that I’m your favorite author. I’m afraid your revelation went straight to my head.”

  “Well, Jack Quinn,” I snuggle in closer to him and put my head on his shoulder. “You are an amazing writer.”

  “And you are a talent as well.”

  “How do you mean?” I ask.

  “I’ve been reading your book today. Sheri sent it on last night. I was on the last chapter when your text message came.”

  “What do you think?”

  “As a reader, or as an editor?”

  “Either.” I brace myself.

  “I like the story and I believe we can get it past the committee.”

  “Really?”

  “Editorially, we have some work to do. But that’s to be expected.” He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him. “Now, I must know which chap Valerie ends up with. I insist you tell me immediately.”

  A smile touches the corners of my lips. “You’ll have to wait and see. Right now I’m much more interested in who I’m going to end up with.”

  “Would you care to hear my opinion on the matter?”

  I pull back and look straight into his beautiful eyes. “Kiss me, Jack.”

  He’s so close, our breath mingles.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” And his lips claim mine, warm and gentle and just the way I always dreamed our first kiss would be.

  Riding in a horse-drawn carriage, kissing Prince Charming, suddenly I feel just like—and I know this is corny—a Fifth Avenue princess. But you know, if the title fits . . .

  Epilogue

  Peace swelled inside Valerie as she took in the beautiful African sunset. The children had been fed. And they ran in the dust, playing and laughing, their bellies full. In a few minutes, she and her mom would gather all of the children and begin the nightly ritual of washing, putting on pajamas, and reading a bedtime story. Maybe even reading two, if they were especially quiet and good during the first one.

  As she rested against the side of the building and watched the horizon, Valerie smiled. She had chosen to be alone, but she wasn’t lonely.

  Here in Africa, her life counted in the way she wanted. She wasn’t defined by her looks or her talent. But by her heart.

  —End of Fifth Avenue Princess

  by Dancy Ames

  Tabby’s wedding day arrives on a beautiful sunny December Saturday, with snow blanketing the ground.

  Last year, Tabby’s sister got married, and David proposed at the wedding. I have no illusions that Jack will follow that example. As a matter of fact, I’m not ready for that step. After all, we’ve only been dating about a month. But what a month it’s been!

  My condo—can I just say that again?—my condo was finished last week. Thank goodness Brynn had only done a little painting, so there wasn’t much to redo. And I thought the place nearly perfect the way it was. It didn’t need much change, other than a cosmetic touch here and there.

  And speaking of cosmetics, Laini and I are finishing up our makeup and staring in awe at beautiful Tabby. Today, she’s beautiful Tabitha, the bride.

  I have to say, over the last few weeks, I’ve made a lot of changes. Mostly to my manuscript. Under Jack’s expert editing, I’ve revised and revised and revised. I even rewrote the ending so that Valerie ends up with—who else?—John Quest. According to Sheri, readers will want that happy ending with a man. I suppose she’s right. Who doesn’t want the fairy-tale ending?

  Tabby is radiant as she walks down the aisle to her man, and after the preacher pronounces them husband and wife, I only have to wait a little while before Jack shows
up at my side. “No fair,” he says in that gorgeous accent.

  “What?”

  His fingers barely brush my elbow and he leans in, his lips close to my ear. “No fair to be more beautiful than the bride.”

  Reaching up, I touch his face. “No one is more beautiful than a bride.”

  “Then when that day comes for us, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay on my feet.”

  “For us, huh?”

  “Don’t you know?” He takes me in his arms.

  “Don’t I know what?”

  “That someday I intend to ask you to be my wife.”

  Oh? I clasp my hands behind his neck. “Well, I think you should know, then, that I intend to say yes. Someday.”

  “Okay, my love.” He dips his head and presses his lips to mine. “Someday.”

  With the promise of someday still tingling in my ear, I surrender to his kiss.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

  Thanks for joining me once again for a Drama Queens story!

  Dancy Ames was born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth and took things from there—rich in a way most of us will only read about in books and see on TV, working at her dream publishing house, rooming with two best friends who were always on her side.

  And yet . . .

  Isn’t that how it is? We look at the green, green grass in someone else’s yard and think, If only I had that kind of grass, all my problems would be over. Maybe it isn’t that cut-and-dried, but how many women think, I have a great husband, and yet . . . I have beautiful kids, so I should be happy, and yet . . . I have a great home, and yet . . . A great job, and yet . . .

  Dancy had to be stripped of everything that defined her in order for her to turn to God. And once she did, God was able to bring her to the place where He intended her to be all along. You Had Me at Good-bye was written during my own stripping-away time. Out of my release and surrender of my own will and my own goals, God remade me and this book. Sometimes I truly think God brings us low to raise us up.