by Gloria Doty
Later in the day, after everything was up and running, she called Allie to hear the latest happenings at Mavis’ Mag. There were other features besides the one she was working on, after all, and she liked to keep her finger on the pulse of each monthly edition as it was put together. That was one of the advantages of owning a small publication; she could be involved in all aspects of it.
“Is your first monthly article nearly ready?” Allie inquired.
“I’ll send it in a few days. I may have to fictionalize a portion of it, Allie. Simply because there hasn’t been as much action as I’d hoped for. I’m well aware of the fact my profile and picture isn’t so irresistible that every man on the site wants to contact me, but I guess I did think there would be a few more. As you’ll see when you receive the first installment, I’ve been writing about 90 year-olds or just really creepy individuals,” she laughed.
“You should probably know we had a meeting and took the liberty of adding your profile to another site, Camille. If this is going to be as interesting as we hope, you need to have proposals from every age dimension and every walk of life. The new site is basically for much younger people. Hopefully that will get you some contacts. You know, the younger men who have a need for a cougar in their lives.” She giggled as she said it, then continued before Camille could make a comment. “We decreased the distance, too by adding the requirement that the respondents had to live within a one-hundred mile radius of Bozeman. That should narrow the field and keep you from having to drive all over the state to meet someone.”
“Hmmm, I guess you’re right about the distance but I thought the first site we chose was for younger people. That is the point of this whole plan, right? To have the dating and interaction between an older woman and a younger man? Did I miss something somewhere along the line? I hope not or I might as well pack up and come home. I can write a boring dating column from my office.”
Feeling as though she needed to defend herself, Allie quickly responded, “No, no, you’re correct. But in reviewing the profiles of most of the men on the first site, it seemed as though they were all in their fifties and older. That probably explains the interest from the ninety-year-olds. Truthfully, I believe those men see themselves as ‘young’ and sign up for the site. We made sure the profiles on the new one truly are young.”
“Great, now I’ll get messages from twenty-year-olds. I may have to ask for their ID so I won’t go to jail. How can this be so difficult? I know…I’ll make that one of my topics…finding the right site for each person. I’ll title it, A Daunting Dating Task.”
Moving on to another topic, Camille asked, “Are you getting any responses to the request for real-life scenarios from our readers?”
“Oh, boy, are we! I didn’t realize how many older woman/much younger man couples there were out there. The responses so far have been from relationships that worked beautifully to the ones that were absolute ‘train wrecks’. And to our delight, the women have not been bashful about telling the reasons why…in fact, there were a few descriptions of sex lives that I’m pretty sure we can’t print.”
They both laughed out loud at that statement with Camille telling her, “Don’t dispose of those even if they can’t be used. I’d like to read all of them.”
Before saying good-bye, Camille asked Allie, “Have you had any more dates with Will?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we’ve been out several times. We saw a movie, had dinner, went to some of his favorite night spots and he’s teaching me to golf. I’m sure I’ll never be any good at it, but I like his arms around me when he’s showing me how to swing the golf club.”
“Good…good. That sounds like a relationship that’s progressing,” Camille offered before she had to end the conversation.
She leaned back in the office chair and tried to analyze why that last bit of information totally seemed to piss her off. After all, she was the one who set them up so why did she care if Allie was having a good time? Plus the fact she had no interest in Will…or did she?
The contacts on the site were interesting. She had set a few rules for herself in the beginning: she would not answer any contacts that had no profile picture, she wouldn’t answer any if their marital status was left blank as that was a sure sign they weren’t single, she wouldn’t answer any who stated they were looking for violent sexual encounters. As she drank an iced tea on the deck, she decided to revisit those decisions, except for the last one. She would answer the ‘no picture and no marital status’ invitations so she could describe the things women might find if they joined a dating site. She would still avoid the violent ones as she didn’t want to end up down the side of a mountain or something equivalent.
As she considered all of it, Collier pulled into the drive. As he walked toward the porch, she tried to calculate his age. She didn’t believe he was fifty, like Will, but he wasn’t thirty, either. His body, at least what she’d seen of it, looked like he was twenty, but the laugh lines around his eyes and the way he walked and talked told her he was probably in his early forties. She could just ask but thought better of it.
He came up the porch steps and sat in the chair next to her.
“Been working hard?” he teased as he smiled that disarming grin.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have,” she answered. “Just because I don’t do physical labor as you do, doesn’t mean I’m not working.”
“I know, I know. Don’t get so defensive. Can I ask what you write? I mean is it novels or freelance or what?”
‘Careful, Camille. Not too much information or you’ll be exposed. Answer in general terms.’
“I do a lot of freelancing for magazines plus I am working on a novel so the six months here is a good place to concentrate on that.”
“What kind of novel? I mean, what specific genre?”
‘Whoa, I’m impressed, Collier that you know what a genre is.’
He obviously saw the surprised look on her face and teased, “What? You think I’m some hick from back in the mountains and don’t know the word genre?”
“No, that’s not at all what I was thinking. I was pleasantly surprised that you would inquire about it, that’s all. Anyway, it’s a romance novel but it has a few twists and its audience isn’t the normal ‘twenty-somethings’ but rather middle-aged women.” That wasn’t a total lie.
“Well unless your novel has elements of hunting, fishing or riding, I probably won’t be interested. Although, if there’s the right amount of romance and the right kind, I might buy a copy.”
“I’ll let you know when it’s published…if that’s before I die.”
They both laughed at that. Then he surprised her with an invitation. “Camille, I’ve been thinking…since we’ve both been working our fingers to the bone today, how about I pick you up later and we grab a burger and a beer? We can go to the place I was telling you about when you first got here. It’s called The Branding Iron. You’ll not only love the food but the customers, as well.”
She hesitated for only a second. She was tired of being at the house by herself and still feeling a tiny bit of jealousy about Allie and Will. Maybe this was what she needed.
“Yes, I accept your invite but on two conditions. First, we each pay our own way and second, I have an unorthodox favor to ask.”
“Shoot,” he said with a quizzical look.
“I know you know my name is Camille but for anonymity while I’m here, I would like you to call me Emily. Please? I am sort of hiding from my friends, my colleagues and relatives. For me to be able to concentrate solely on this book, with no distractions, I needed to go into hiding, if you will.”
“Sure,” he told her. “I’ll call you any name you want. My memory isn’t the absolute best, so maybe I’ll play it safe and just call you Darlin’ or something I’m sure you’d find equally revolting. How’s that?”
“It’s a deal,” she laughed. “Now tell me, do I get to wear my new jeans and boots tonight or is this a more formal place?”
Collier thought about their conversation on his way home. Something wasn’t quite right but he couldn’t put his finger on it…yet. He understood the whole thing about needing to be alone to write and even changing your name for the new people you’d meet, but he also thought changing a name on a driver’s license was a bit extreme.
CHAPTER 19
“SO, HOW’S THE magazine handling the driving force, also known as Camille, being gone?” Will asked Allie as they waited in line for a table at her favorite restaurant.
“We’re handling everything that needs to be taken care of,” she answered.
“I’m sure you are. I hope she’s giving you a huge bonus, Allie. After all, what would she have done if she didn’t have you to take over in her absence?”
Allie brushed it off, “Oh it’s nothing. I know she appreciates everything we’re all doing. When I spoke to her yesterday, she seemed to be working diligently. We all have a stake in the success of the magazine, you know.”
Their table was ready. They followed the hostess and ordered. While they ate their meal, Allie asked, “Have you ever been married, Will?”
He hesitated long enough she thought he either didn’t hear her or didn’t want to answer. Finally, he said, “Yes, I have. We were both in college, we were young and in love.” He smiled ruefully. “We were also naïve and a little bit stupid.”
“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to tell me about it.”
“It was a long time ago, Allie. There’s no pain associated with it any longer. We allowed some outside forces to come between us…ambition, a pushy parent, lack of employment and a few other things.”
“You know, you and Camille have a lot in common. When we spoke about our younger lives one night and I asked if she had ever been married, she told me almost the same thing.”
Will nodded then checked his watch. “We need to hurry if we’re going to make the opening curtain at the theater.”
There was no more discussion of Camille or the magazine until they were enjoying a drink after the performance.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you something and ask you something Allie. I’m going to be out of town for a month or more.” He took her hand as he said, “I’m really, really going to miss our dates. You’re different from any woman I’ve ever dated and I mean that…truly. You have a wide range of interests and you’re easy to talk to. I feel very comfortable when I’m with you.”
She felt the color rising in her cheeks. ‘Like an adolescent schoolgirl,’ she thought.
“I feel comfortable with you too. Thanks for the compliment. You said you wanted to ask me something?”
‘Please, please ask me to come home with you and spend the night with you, Will.’
“Yes, I do. As I said, I will be gone for a while and I can’t leave the house empty for that long without at least telling Camille…so I wondered if I could persuade you to give me her new phone number. I won’t share it with anyone but I need to explain to her that I’m leaving.”
Allie’s eyes opened wide but no words came out of her mouth. ‘You rotten SOB. All these dates and flattery and making me believe you wanted me and instead you want a freaking phone number?’
She reined in her thoughts and politely told him, “I’m sorry, Will but I can’t give you that. You’ll have to try to find someone else to get it from. However, no one else knows it, so that might be difficult. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call a cab. Enjoy the rest of your drink.” She placed some cash on the table. “That’s for my share of the evening. Oh, and please don’t call me again.”
Will stood as she was leaving, “Wait, Allie. Don’t leave. I didn’t mean….”
She was already gone. He sat down and asked himself, ‘What the hell just happened?’
He paid the bill and went home still asking himself exactly how he screwed up the evening. ‘Did Allie believe I was going to ask her to come home with me? Hmmm, interesting. Maybe I should have. Perhaps she would have given me the number when we were in the middle of making love. Does the phrase Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, come to mind, Will? I’ll have to find Camille’s new phone number some other way or at least where she’s staying. It’s driving me crazy to not know and besides, I need to talk to her to get the combination to the safe. If she wasn’t so paranoid, she would have given me that long ago. Still no trust after all these years. How sad is that?’
His phone beeped. Caller ID told him it was Lorna. “Hello Beautiful. How’s sunny California?”
“It’s definitely sunny but it would be sunnier if you were here, Will. Have you decided when you’ll be able to come out? I don’t know how much longer the position will be open.”
“Why can’t I apply online? I’ve hit a bit of a snag here as far as leaving right now but I can send my resume and any other paperwork you need.”
“Of course, that’s possible but I think you’d make a much bigger impression in person, and besides, I want you here.” He could hear the poutiness in her voice.
“We would have a great time, Will. I could show you all my favorite places.” She laughed. “You know what I mean, right?”
When she heard him chuckle, she added, “Oh yes and my favorite places to visit and sightsee also.”
“I will continue to try to make arrangements on this end but coming there in the immediate future doesn’t seem like a very real possibility at this point. There’s some business I have to take care of here before I leave and I’m running into obstacles in that endeavor. If you could please send me the name of the person I need to contact, I’ll forward my resume to them. Also, I’ll let you know when I’m able to fly out. If the position is no longer available, I’ll have to live with that.”
They ended the call with Will having several thoughts going through his head. One was that he needed Camille’s phone number and the combination to the safe…now. The other one was questioning himself if he actually wanted to see Lorna again. She was a bit too pushy and crude, even for his taste in women.
His next course of action was to search Mavis’ Mag’s website and FB page. Perhaps there were clues to her whereabouts but he was highly doubtful. Where would she go for six months? Even if the magazine was paying, that long a stay could be quite expensive. Maybe she was living with a friend or relative. He dismissed that idea as soon as it was a conscious thought. Camille literally didn’t have any friends. At least none that were close enough to let her move in with them. She didn’t have any relatives, either, except her mother and they didn’t speak to each other. Another dead end…she seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth.
He went for a walk to try and clear his brain. There was something niggling at the periphery of his memory but he couldn’t recall it into his mind’s eye. It was something he’d seen her reading one evening before she went to bed. A travel brochure? Maybe. If so, what was the picture on the front? Mountains, evergreen trees, rocks, waterfalls…well, that narrowed it down to about one-thousand locations. ‘Think, Will, think. There was a name on the front with those pictures…what was it?’ He stood still and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will his visual memory into bringing it to the forefront of his brain. He didn’t care what the people passing him were thinking. This was important. Finally, he believed it had an M-something on the front.
‘Okay, we can eliminate Missouri as we don’t have that kind of mountain ranges here. Mississippi? No. Maryland? No. Massachusetts…possibly. Maine?... another possibility. Montana?... probably not. It was too rugged and unpopulated for Camille’s tastes.’ As he walked back home, he suddenly stopped dead still causing the person riding a bike behind him to nearly run over him.
“Hey,” the woman yelled as she pedaled past. “What’re you doing?”
“Sorry,” Will shouted at her retreating figure. “I just remembered something important.”
He grinned as he wen
t back to the townhouse. It might be far-fetched, but it was the most hope he’d had so far. Camille’s mother, Barbara, owned a home in Montana. What better place to hide for six months?
He took the steps two at a time on his way to Camille’s bedroom. He wasn’t positive what he was searching for exactly but there might be some correspondence of some kind or an address book or something with Barbara’s Montana address on it.
He rifled through the few papers Camille left on the desk. It was too bad she was such a neat and tidy person. She must have packed her address book too. He stood in the middle of the room and turned slowly in a circle. What was the one thing she always kept…seemingly for posterity? Receipts…they had laughed about it many times…her unwillingness to ever dispose of any receipts. She hung on to them long after they were of no importance any longer. He opened the top drawer of her dresser…hallelujah, maybe. There was the motherlode of receipts. Now to find the one from the Fedex office when she mailed her mother’s obligatory Christmas gift to the house in Montana. He remembered she said she was glad Barbara decided to spend a week there. The postage wouldn’t be as much as sending it to Paris.
It didn’t take long to find as Camille’s organizational skills had them arranged by month. Unfortunately, the paper had obviously gotten wet at some point. Will was swearing as he tried to read the obliterated address. However, the space with the recipient’s phone number was still visible…barely…but he thought he could read it. He wasn’t in the habit of praying but that’s what he was doing now…praying there was still a land line associated with that phone number. He realized most homes no longer had a land line but Barbara was the kind of person who would keep one even if she didn’t need it or didn’t live there.
***
Camille was choosing the shirt she would wear to go with Collier this evening. She wasn’t accustomed to jeans and the new ones were fairly stiff but since they fit her like her skin, they soon softened up and melded to her slim figure. Looking in the mirror to assess the overall effect, she jumped when she heard the phone on the nightstand in the spare bedroom ringing. She hadn’t believed it was working, but was left from when Barbara was there. She thought about ignoring it but decided it might be Collier, if he lost her cell phone number.