But part of her missed the satisfaction she got from spending a little time helping the staff, running errands, and visiting the patients, especially Sleeping Beauty. She hadn’t realized just how fond she had become of the young woman and wondered if in some way Lydia had come to represent the daughter she had always wanted but never been blessed with.
Even Sasha, not known for her observation of others’ moods, noticed that Noelia wasn’t her usual self. “Is something wrong? You seem so upset,” she asked as they worked together to change a display of beautiful necklaces, tokens that brides gave to their bridesmaids after the ceremony.
“Oh, it’s just that sometimes you try to do the right thing, and it comes out all wrong,” Noelia told her, moving on to straighten some lacy honeymoon lingerie with a sigh. Pretty bedtime things conjured up unwanted thoughts of Nate. Sexy thoughts of Nate were definitely off-limits now.
“Is it something to do with that doctor guy you were seeing? Lydia’s dad?”
“Why would you think that? I hardly know the man!” Which certainly wasn’t a lie, Noelia thought sourly.
“Well, you’ve folded and refolded that lace cami about ten times now.” Sasha gave her arm a little pat. “Why don’t you sit down and have a coffee? Kelly bought a new box of chocolate cookies this morning.”
Noelia sighed. If only chocolate could solve the mess she’d gotten herself into.
Sasha returned with a tray a few minutes later, and frowned as Noelia ignored the cookies. Putting cream and sugar in one of the mugs of coffee, she pushed it toward Noelia. “Hot, sweet coffee is always a good pick-me-up,” she said. “Unless there’s good brandy around, that is.”
Noelia had to smile at her friend’s attempt to cheer her up. The smile faded when Sasha continued. “I met Daniel the other day, at that coffee place down on Westchester Road. He looked about as miserable as you do, and he told me what happened at the hospital. He’s really worried that Dr. Westbury is taking things out on you because you tried to help him and Lydia. He said you were a lovely person, and he was very grateful that you at least believed him.”
The store door opened to a jangle of bells, and Nate strode in.
“Well, speak of the devil!” Sasha made little attempt to keep her voice down. Noelia looked over at Nate and looked away again. He didn’t look any happier than he had the last time she saw him.
Sasha got up and moved to waylay the psychologist. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked.
“I need to speak to Ms. Russo—Noelia . . . ”
“I’m afraid Mrs. Russo is busy right now,” Sasha told him, ignoring the look he gave her. He peered over her shoulder to see Noelia calmly dunking a chocolate cookie into her coffee cup, then looked at Sasha with one eyebrow raised.
“I don’t think she wants to see you, Dr. Westbury. I talked to Daniel, who told me about the horrible way you behaved to her at the hospital.” Sasha was fierce in defending her friend.
“It’s okay, Sasha. I think Dr. Westbury has got the message.” Noelia smiled at her young assistant. “Besides, I’m leaving very soon. Anything he wants to say, he needs to say now.”
Nate moved toward the little table where the coffee tray stood and took a seat. “The doctor treating Lydia studied the print out from the machine that monitors her brain function. It seems that at the time Daniel was in the room, her brain activity increased. In fact, the doctor said it looked as though she was coming out of the coma, but in the minutes after Daniel left . . . ”
“After you threw him—and me—out.”
“Yes, after that, I guess. In the minutes after you both left, the activity subsided, and she reverted into a comatose state.”
“So, what does that mean? Are you going to tell me now that my actions caused her distress?” Noelia brought her hand to her chest, her heart beating in a horrified tattoo at the thought she might have caused Lydia harm.
Nate looked guilty. “That was the first thing I thought, and I asked the doctor about it. He said it could be distress, but none of her vital signs—sweating, blood pressure, heart rate, and so on—indicated fear or anxiety. In fact, her brain patterns were displaying happiness.”
“So maybe hearing Daniel’s voice, knowing that he was there, made Lydia happy?”
“It would seem so.” Nate’s face flushed with embarrassment.
“Well, I hope you’re happy now, keeping your daughter away from the one man who could bring her out of the coma. The one person who could make her happy.” Noelia got up, put the cups and plates on a tray, and stalked into the back room of the store.
Moments later she poked her head back out. Nate was still sitting there, looking absolutely devastated, but she tried to harden her heart. “I think you need to eat humble pie, get in touch with Daniel, and invite him to visit Lydia. And apologize, big time. It’s the least you can do if you love your daughter.”
Noelia disappeared back into the little room, but she listened to the conversation that went on in the store and couldn’t help smiling.
“Well, I guess you deserved that,” Sasha told him.
“I guess I did,” Nate replied. “Only now I don’t know how to even start making amends. Do you think she’ll come back?”
“Into the room, or to you?” Sasha’s voice was curt.
“Either. Both.”
“I think this has gone beyond a bunch of flowers and a nice card. Maybe you should leave now, Dr. Westbury. Give her a bit of time. And in the meantime, you could perhaps rethink the way you’ve treated both her and Daniel–and heaven knows, the way you’re treating your daughter.”
Nate sighed. “You don’t mince your words, do you? A lot like Lydia . . . and you’re right. I have a lot of soul searching to do.” He left the store, and when Sasha reported to Noelia with relish that the man looked ‘thoroughly whipped’, she felt no joy in that.
• • •
Friday, and a long-awaited two-day weekend for Noelia, arrived. She vowed she was going to stop moping, to put all thought of Nate and his troubles out of her mind, and start catching up on the things she had had to put on hold while she did extra hours at the store and volunteer duties at the hospital. Keeping busy would prevent her from thinking about her life. Or she hoped it would.
First on her list was the next Mimi L’Amour book that was rapidly closing in on deadline. Plans for the next chapters were already buzzing around in her head.
“What are you going to do with your time off?” Sasha asked. “Do you have plans?”
Actually, I’m going to seduce a gorgeously handsome duke and then be kidnapped by his rival and held for ransom—except that the man wants me for himself . . . Noelia grinned as she wondered what Sasha’s response to that would be. Amazement? Or would she call for the guys with the straitjackets to come and tranquilize her? Of course, Sasha didn’t know that Noelia was really the mysterious Mimi L’Amour, writer of hot, sexy novels, and that that every little idea and experience was grist for the writer’s mill.
Even so, it was fun to imagine Sasha’s shocked response.
“Oh, nothing exciting,” she said instead. “I’m planning to paint the living room and dining room—hasn’t been done in donkeys’ years, and I really feel like a change.”
“Sounds like a barrel of fun,” Sasha said in a tone that suggested the opposite.
“What about you, hon, what are you up to?”
“I’m off to that new nightclub in Bar Harbor with some friends—they say it’s the hottest thing to hit the area in years!”
Ah! Not as hot as seducing a duke, getting kidnapped, and painting your living room, Noelia thought. “How about you, Kelly?”
“Me? I’m planning to go home, put my swollen feet up, watch a movie or two, and be waited on hand and foot by a hot, sexy guy. Then maybe tomorrow I’ll have the energy to come in to Wedding Bliss and do the books while Sasha, who hopefully will be in on time after her late night, tactfully sees to the customers.” She gave Sasha a meaningful look, an
d the girl blushed.
“I’ll be here on time, honest,” she said, but Noelia was sure she had her fingers crossed behind her back.
“Kelly, if you get stuck and need help, call me. I’m sure the paint will wait.” But not the book and its rapidly approaching deadline . . .
“Noelia, pet, you’ve done so much work here, running the place while Brett and I were away on our honeymoon, and taking care of your friend’s volunteer duties as well as your own stuff. I wouldn’t dream of calling you in on your first Saturday off. It was ever so nice of you to offer, anyway.”
Noelia smiled and wished Kelly and Sasha a happy weekend. Then checking her watch, she rushed to the hardware store with a brand-new sense of purpose. In her purse she had paint chips that she’d studied for the last few days, and now she knew exactly what she wanted. A soft blue for the living room, with one wall painted a deeper, more vibrant hue. And she was going to spoil herself with a sweet lavender color for the master bedroom—the one where she’d slept alone ever since Andre’s death.
A bright yellow for the kitchen, and a soft green for the dining room. She’d even browsed all kinds of catalogs until she found the matching accessories that would pull the whole renewal together. Yes, it was going to cost her frugal soul a ton of money, but considering how little she’d spent on her very own nest over the past few years, it was surely a good investment.
And oh, how she was looking forward to this!
Once home, however, she had that strange feeling of not being ready to let go. Her home had a comfortable feel to it, and all the muted colors she had chosen when she and Andre had last painted it were still in vogue and somehow, well, comfortable. Maybe she was making a mistake.
Noelia straightened her shoulders. “It’s high time to take a chance,” she muttered to herself. “After all, it’s only paint—just how big a mistake can it be?”
And a little voice deep inside, the one that had been oh, so very active just recently, asked her if she was ready to take a chance on other things, too. Like romance, maybe . . .
There was the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, and she struggled to push thoughts of Nate from her mind. She pulled on an old jogging suit and tied a scarf around her hair—she knew from experience that paint flew everywhere—then covered all the carpets and surfaces with drop cloths and poured the first of the paint into her tray.
She carefully put tape all around the edges of the windows and doors, and at the edges where the ceiling met the walls. Then, taking a deep breath, she dipped her roller into the lovely paint and stroked it slowly across the wall. She deliberately resisted standing back to look at the effect until the whole of one wall was finished. Then, squinting a critical eye at her handiwork, she had to admit she was pleased with the effect. The space seemed suddenly larger, brighter—and her heart was lighter. How strange that a few gallons of paint could produce such an effect.
Delighted, she advanced on the other walls with a determined glint in her eyes, sure she could have the entire living room done by that evening . . . and feeling so energized that she thought she might be able to continue in to the night.
She’d just completed the fourth wall and was standing in the middle of the room, pleased with the effect, when the doorbell rang.
She considered not answering, not wishing to be interrupted now that she was enjoying herself so much. She wasn’t expecting anyone and was eager to get on with her painting. But the bell rang a second time, and with a sigh, she went to answer the door, paint roller in hand.
Dr. Nate Westbury stood on her doorstep, a beautiful bouquet of pink roses in his hands, and his smile faltered as he caught sight of her. Too late Noelia checked the hallway mirror—goodness, she looked a fright! Hair poking out in all directions from the headscarf that had slipped askew, drips and splotches of paint all over her face, arms and clothes. Fortunately, the sage green color complimented her eyes and the deep blush that colored her cheeks.
“I’m sorry . . . ” they both spoke at once.
“I’m painting the living room,” Noelia said, then felt foolish for stating the obvious.
“Yes, I can see that.” Was that a smile that hovered around his eyes and mouth? “I had wondered if I could take you to dinner as an apology for my rude behavior over the past few days. In particular, the near fisticuffs with Daniel, and my own bad behavior at the hospital. But I guess I’ve caught you at a bad time.”
• • •
He could have kicked himself. How dumb could he be to just turn up on an attractive, single woman’s doorstep on a Friday night and expect her to be free? And even more stupid, to expect her to welcome him with open arms—now there’s a thought—when he’d been so incredibly rude and unkind to her the last time they met. Although he was glad she obviously didn’t have company. . . . and wasn’t she just so cute with paint on her nose?
Oh, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. “I’m pretty good at painting if it’s just the walls you’re doing—nothing Picasso like or anything? So if you’d like a hand, consider me your man.”
She looked surprised, but to give her credit, she didn’t slam the door in his face, or even seem embarrassed that he’d caught her in her scruffy work clothes. To his amazement, she stepped back and invited him in.
“I’m just about to move onto the dining room. It would certainly go quicker with two, and I can’t reach the upper walls without standing on a step stool. Are you sure you want to spend your Friday evening helping roll paint on walls?”
I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than spend time on any task with you, Nate thought, slipping off his suit jacket and tie and accepting an old sweater she handed him to cover his good clothes.
• • •
“I’m famished! Let’s order takeout for dinner,” Noelia suggested, handing Nate a mug of coffee when they took a much-deserved break. Standing back to admire their work, Noelia commented that together they had done so much more than she could have done alone.
“I’m glad to help,” Nate told her, swiping at a paint spot on her forehead with a tissue. “That green really suits you—it matches your eyes.”
He said it just to see that pink color rise onto her cheekbones, and he wasn’t disappointed. “You know, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
Noelia laughed out loud. “Honey, you must be living a very sheltered life.”
“I think this calls for a celebration—you’re right – takeout for dinner it is. My treat to us both after all this hard work,” Nate insisted.
“Umm . . . Chinese or Italian?”
“Either sounds good to me,” Noelia said.
Nate pulled out a coin. “Choose?”
“Heads we get Chinese, tails we get Italian. Or I guess there’s always the pizza place down the road,” Noelia said. Nate gave her a disbelieving look.
“Pizza we can have any time, but Ming Lo’s Special is, well, special. For a special evening.” And he thought this was a special evening. He showed her the coin that had landed on heads, and Noelia gave him a grin as she opened her kitchen drawer and pulled out the Ming Lo takeout menu.
They worked on in companionable silence for a while, Nate painting the upper walls and Noelia following and filling in the lower walls. When their food arrived, Noelia insisted on paying the delivery person. “Please let me,” she told Nate. “After all the work you’ve done, we’re way ahead of where I expected we’d be, and I’m grateful for your help.”
She sent Nate into the kitchen to open a bottle of wine while she set the table in her soothing green dining room. The meal passed quickly as they admired the way Noelia’s little house glowed with the new paint. They chatted companionably about people they both knew, about Marina Grove, and about Noelia’s work at Wedding Bliss.
They were both conscious of skating around the real subject, which was growing bigger each minute like the proverbial elephant in the room.
When he could stand it no longer, Nate cleared his throat and be
gan. “Noelia, I can’t begin to say how sorry I am for the way I talked to you—or for my treatment of Daniel. I can’t believe that, with all my training and experience, I could act in such a bull-headed, closed-minded, stupid way.
“My only excuse is that I’ve been blinded with worry about Lydia, and that led me to search for a scapegoat—an occurrence so common among my therapy patients that I can’t believe I missed it in myself.
“But thanks to you and your kind heart, I talked to a few people, and I now know that Daniel couldn’t possibly be the unknown person who was riding with Lydia on the night of the accident.”
Noelia was silent for a moment, her heart beating so rapidly she thought it would break out of her chest and fly around the room with little wings flapping. The image put her in mind of a Valentine’s Day greeting-card cartoon, and she burst out laughing.
Nate obviously wasn’t amused. “It took me a lot to screw up my courage to make such a confession, and you’re laughing at me?” he said. “I don’t know whether to be offended or relieved.”
“Oh, Nate, I’m not laughing at you! I really thought our relationship was finished almost before it had begun, and that made me sad. When I heard what you said just now, well, I laughed because it made me happy.”
He had no words to answer that. Instead, he opened his arms, and she went into them without hesitation, their lips joining in a sweet, innocent kiss. A kiss that grew in intensity until Nate thought he’d spontaneously combust, right there in Noelia’s living room.
Much later as they cuddled together on the couch, Nate sighed and checked his watch. “It’s really late, my sweet. You must be exhausted after working all day and then painting your house. I should go.”
Nate reached for his coat, and looked at Noelia, this woman who’d touched his heart so deeply after years when he thought he’d never feel anything like this again. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to make her want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted it to last forever.
The Sleeping Beauty Bride Page 14