On The Dotted Line

by Kim Carmichael

  “Then I will always cherish them.” She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Open mine.”

  He unwrapped his gift and opened the flat box to find a dream catcher.

  “Do you know what that is?” Nan asked.

  “It’s a dream catcher.” He smiled and lifted the intricate piece for the rest of the family to admire.

  “Oh, it’s so pretty!” His mother stood and touched one of the feathers.

  “Maybe it will make you sleep better and expand your mind.” Nan raised her eyebrows and resumed her seat.

  “Thank you.” For his last wild card, he bent down and handed Willow her gift. A larger box with glossy red paper and a big white bow. He had wrapped, unwrapped and wrapped the present multiple times and his chest constricted at the thought of her opening it, wondering if she would understand. Over the years he had given women gifts, and while they usually loved his taste, Willow was a wild card.

  Apparently his wife had a case of nerves as well. Her cheeks glowing, she sat up from her relaxed state by his side and lifted a fairly large package wrapped in gold paper and held together with ribbon.

  Without a clue of what it could be, he placed the squishy gift on his lap.

  “Randolph, open it.” His mother came to the rescue.

  He glanced at Willow, untied the ribbon and pulled the paper open. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her lean over as he unwrapped one of her hand-crocheted blankets.

  “Oh, how gorgeous.” His mother ran her hand over the yarn. “Did you make this, Willow?”

  She nodded.

  Only a few weeks ago he called something similar a rag, now it was a precious keepsake. “I love it.” He studied the perfect little stitches. She must have spent hours making the blanket. Done in the muted creams and tans, the colors matched their suite. Between the dream catcher and the blanket, he would have some truly unique pieces made for him not only showpieces. “No one ever made me anything before, thank you.”

  “Now you.” His mother motioned toward the box.

  After one more quick glance at him, Willow returned her attention to her own present and tore the paper away.

  “Oh Randolph!” His mother screamed, bounced over and put her hand on the box in Willow’s lap. “You didn’t tape the box, did you? You have to keep the box.”

  “I even kept the bag from the store. It’s at home.” He knew the rules. “Let Willow open her gift.”

  “Let’s see which one you got.” His mother clapped and reluctantly took her seat.

  Willow’s hands shook but with great care took the lid off the box, moved away the tissue paper and lifted out his gift.

  “Oh my God.” His mother fanned herself. “It’s gorgeous. The black one in large is always the perfect selection for the first one. It fits everything.”

  “A new bag?” Willow whispered the question, no smile, no excitement.

  “That’s not just any bag, that is THE bag, will always be THE bag.” His mother took over the explanation. “It’s an icon. This bag has history.”

  “It’s incredible.” She ran her fingers over the leather, the clasp, and the strap. “I needed a new handbag.”

  He held his breath waiting for the verdict.

  “Thank you.” She faced him.

  Almost any other woman on the planet would have had his mother’s reaction. Two weeks ago if Willow simply looked at him and softly said thank you he admitted to himself they would have gotten in a fight. Not anymore. Luck on his side, he unwrapped the gift one last time after the Sedona trip and his talk with Nan. “You didn’t look inside.”

  “Did you get the wallet?” His mother practically fell over.

  He didn’t answer and waited for Willow to do as he asked.

  With careful movements, she lifted the flap, reached inside and pulled out what he considered her true gift.

  “This is rose quartz.” She lifted the necklace strung with the pink stones. Her eyes widened as she gazed at the jewelry. “Oh my.”

  “Isn’t that pretty.” His mother breathed.

  Nan nodded.

  “Yes, rose quartz.” He slid over and took the necklace. “I found it in Sedona.”

  She gave him the necklace, turned and lifted her hair.

  He fastened the necklace around her neck and leaned into her ear. “The man who sold it to me said it was the perfect gift for a wife.” Other than that, he honestly thought the pink semi-precious stones would look nice against her skin tone.

  “I love it.” She turned back and gave him a kiss, a soft one on the lips.

  At the unexpected affection and after their shower earlier, he held her tight fighting the need to take her under the blanket and ask her to change into nothing but the necklace.

  The room clapped.

  “Randolph.” She cupped her hand over her ear.

  “Yes, Mrs. Van Ayers.” He lowered his voice though his entire family had leaned into hear their conversation.

  “I need you to help me change into my new purse.”

  His father gave him a thumbs-up.

  Her whisper made him shudder. “You need help?” His mother screamed anytime his father even glanced in the direction of her handbag let alone touched it.

  “Yes.” She gave him a light kiss on the ear. “Meet me down here after everyone goes to bed, I need to do a few things.” Once more she cuddled up on his side and laced her arm in his.

  He unfolded the blanket and got them both underneath.

  She reached down and put her hand in his, for the first time seeking him out.

  Maybe that was the best present of them all.

  * * * *

  The flicker of the fire in the fireplace gave the main room of Randolph’s grandparents’ mansion an ethereal glow. With her new handbag cradled in her arms, her old handbag slung over her shoulder and her amazing necklace around her neck she made her way down the stairs. Her instinct told her Randolph had no idea he gave her the stone representing unconditional love and peace, but no matter what he had been drawn to it and the day she signed her name on the contract their lives were forever intertwined. Maybe it meant more that he didn’t know.

  In the main room she found Randolph on the rug by the tree staring into the fire and holding a glass and a sketchpad by his side.

  “I thought we would have a nightcap on this fine Christmas Eve.” He didn’t turn to look her way, but he lifted an empty glass. “Come join me.”

  Something about Randolph Van Ayers the third made her stomach spiral like when she used to like a boy when she was younger. She supposed they called them crushes for a reason.

  “What are you drawing?” With a breath and a swallow she joined him and put both bags in front of them.

  “I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I never helped a woman change purses. I thought it was one of those things that would elude me for my entire life.” He handed her the pad and reached out for her bag.

  “How about we drink first?” Maybe some liquid fortification would help calm her nerves. One thing about Randolph was that once someone put a goal in his path he pursued it, from completing his list to running an empire to changing a handbag. Not ready for her conversation to start quite yet, she took in the picture he drew of the two of them in their snowball fight. “Your talent is incredible.”

  “It’s passable.” He poured her some of the amber liquid and handed her the drink and tapped his glass against hers. “To an amazing holiday.”

  “Absolutely.” The alcohol burned yet warmed her as it made its way down in one smooth stream.

  “A woman who can sip a single malt scotch without wincing is very sexy.” He downed his drink and put the glass aside.

  She stared right at him and took another taste without as much as a flutter.

  “Do it again.” His tone lowered.

  “You don’t have any.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” He kept his focus on her.

  Without breaking eye contact, she put the glass to
her lips and tilted it back, polishing off the rest of the liquid.

  In an instant he took her into his arms and kissed her. His tongue searched out hers and he bent her back.

  Oh, he made it incredibly easy to become lost, forget what she came down here for. Though she made up her mind she wanted to be a wife, she needed to let him choose if he wanted someone more than a person who put her name on a paper.

  He moved his lips to her ear. “You are delicious.”

  She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” He chuckled. “Do you need some more Scotch?”

  The question handed her the perfect opportunity, the ideal introduction to her story, and she decided for once in her life to take full advantage. She put her palm to his cheek. “What if I told you that since I was ten years old, Nan would give me tastes of alcohol to keep me warm on the coldest of nights? She said it was a natural heater.”

  The man was smart, probably too smart. He froze, the shine in his eye dulled and he nodded. “I would answer that I have a multitude of questions that go along with your statement.”

  For only a second, she paused. They couldn’t handle any more back and forth, no more fights. If they were married, they were married. “Then I would say go ahead and ask me anything.”

  He took her hand and helped her sit up. “Why didn’t you have heat?”

  A long time ago she even forbid Nan from talking about their history. Exactly like she stopped Randolph from mentioning their situation to Jade and Slate. She couldn’t hide anymore. “Because not everywhere we stayed had heat.”

  “What about your parents? Didn’t they mind their little girl being without heat?”

  “I told you we need to switch bags.” She pulled her old bag over and spilled the contents out between them.

  “I thought we were talking.” He balled his hand in a fist.

  No more frustration. She forced herself forward and turned the bag inside out, ripping off the bottom and revealing her history she hid in the one place she knew would be safe. “I’m sure whoever my father is didn’t care about my lack of heat, since my mother never bothered to provide a name for him.” For a man with history dating back several hundred years, she wondered if he could even process what she told him.

  “Willow?”

  “My mother died right before I turned ten. It was a car accident. They wouldn’t even let me into the hospital room, but Nan held me and said it didn’t matter, she wasn’t there anymore anyway and couldn’t see me.” She rifled through the documents and handed him her mother’s death certificate and her birth certificate.

  He carefully unfolded the papers, running his fingers over the official seals. “How did you end up with her?” His voice lost both its sharp slant and its teasing tone. The game ended.

  “Nan promised my mother to take care of me, but it was never in writing. I had nowhere to go and she swore not to leave me, so we sort of disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  For the first time, she rendered the man nearly speechless. “No school, no home, no history. Though Nan tried to make it magical and tell me we lived like spirits flitting from one thing to another, it was more like we didn’t exist.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t find you.” He stared down at the papers.

  “When you tiptoe around the edges and never truly settle down in one place it’s easy not to be found. If you don’t have an address, no one can come take you away. Where would they look?”

  He rifled through her items strewn on the floor. “How did you survive like that?”

  “Nan taught me. People liked getting tarot readings and such from the young girl with intuition.” She watched him put the things into his predetermined groups, makeup, papers, change, a ball of yarn and a crochet hook, and her little treasures, some rocks and a few twigs.

  “How did your mother and Nan meet?” He lifted a little photo album. “May I?”

  She opened the book for him and showed him the few pictures she had of her past. “They were best friends. I don’t really remember a time where Nan wasn’t there.” She stopped at a picture of her mother and Nan on the beach.

  “You look like your mother.” He brought the book closer to his face. “Nan is different.”

  She smiled at the photo of Nan in a bikini. Since she was with the woman every day she didn’t see the metamorphosis. One second Nan was teaching a twelve-year-old how to gaze into crystal balls, the next taking naps and complaining of jet lag. “It’s strange how time changes things and people.”

  “It is, sometimes I walk into my office at work and wonder how I got there. I turned into the person I used to watch and say I would never be that person.” He opened her new bag and slid the photo album inside. “What did you want to be?”

  “I don’t know.” She faced him, the firelight lit up his already gorgeous features. For the man with the finish line always in sight, not having a goal in mind had to be a foreign concept. “Nan always wanted to own a metaphysical shop, and I swore I would make it happen.” If it hadn’t been for Jade’s kindness she wouldn’t have succeeded. Yet another person she needed to come clean with, and be real.

  “What did you want?” He put the bag down and turned to her.

  “A mattress.” She looked down at the rug. No matter where they settled for a time, the beds always seemed wrong, worn and used. Not a serene place for rest, only a place to sleep before moving on. “One area I could return to every night and sink in the sheets and know it was mine.” Until Nan taught her to never be afraid of what she couldn’t see, she used to stare out the window terrified of every shadow.

  “Oh my God.”

  “You were right when you said ink was sacred and things should be put in writing. I never wanted to believe that until you.” Refusing to see his pity or disgust, she was grateful for the tears clouding her eyes. She remembered the day she finally got a bank account and her name was printed on something without the fear she would be swiped away from her only family.

  “Willow.” Again, he gathered her up in his arms.

  She shut her eyes and pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent that would forever be him. Except for Nan, her Mother, and Jade, he was the longest relationship she ever allowed herself to have.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me until now?” He combed his fingers through her hair.

  She shrugged.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  After taking a minute to breathe, she lifted her face to his. “I didn’t want you to know you bought a basically homeless, uneducated woman into your life.” Along with not being a wife, it seemed as if she wasn’t holding up her end of the deal. Especially for what he paid.

  “Correction, I brought you into my life.” He gazed into her eyes. “Do you hear me? I brought Willow into my life.”

  “Only because I was the last person available.”

  “Then the fates saved the best for last. You were a limited edition.”

  She pressed her lips together not wanting to say that if the fates brought them together, maybe they needed more than a year to see what happened once he reached his goal. Her throat dried out at the admission. She wanted to be with her husband, the man who brought Willow into his life, not the wandering weed with no roots. “Randolph?”

  “What is it, Mrs. Van Ayers?” He gave her one of those smiles and returned to arranging her handbag. “Tell me what I can do for my wife?”

  She lost herself in watching him. How did she tell him what she wanted? “I want my calendar back.”

  “Look, everything has a place and there is still room for the calendar.” He closed the bag and presented her with his handiwork. “We will get through the year and then we won’t need it anymore.”

  Yes, one thing about her husband was when he set his mind to a goal he went after it full force. Everything had a place. She had a place in his life, and even if she wanted it to change, it wouldn’t happen until he won. All her life she lived in limbo. She needed to wait
until he reached the end, but at least he knew the person he would cross the finish line with.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Randolph stared down at his desk and rubbed his tight, aching neck. Actually, he didn’t know where his desk disappeared to, but he assumed it had to be somewhere under the stacks of file folders.

  While he rang in his second and more traditional New Year resolving to spend more time with his wife, Ms. Hartford must have resolved to invest in any opportunity the new year brought her. At the moment he and his father were playing tug-o-war with their employees, which left him, Peter and Mrs. Avery to pick up the slack.

  The Hartfords business would net them an amazing profit.

  There was only one major downside.

  He was failing miserably keeping his resolution. Since his talk with his wife, things changed and he liked the new Willow. Liked her a lot.

  His neck seized once more when he caught sight of yet more emails flooding his inbox. The muscles cried out in protest of him sitting in the same position for hours. For once, he wanted to get home with enough time to take Willow somewhere. Do more than kiss her hello, eat a quick bite, work some more and go to bed.

  Wait. The going to bed part was non-negotiable. In fact, it was his favorite part of the day, or night. Since Vermont, going to bed did not mean sleeping right away.

  A smile crept over his face at the memory of last night. Willow had been especially happy to have him home. He glanced at his watch. Maybe he could sneak out for a quickie. As Willow would say, he needed the release and she was adamant that making love was therapeutic. No one would deny he needed therapy.

  With his resolve set, he no sooner stood than he was interrupted by a knock at the door. A quick scan around his office told him there was nowhere to hide. “Come in?” He winced.

  The door opened and both Peter and Mrs. Avery charged inside carrying papers, more papers.

  He tried the assumptive close. “I was just about to go home for lunch.”

  “There are some more files for you to review.” Mrs. Avery shook her head and managed to slide over one stack of files folders to make room for another. “We also need you to draft that proposal.”