Love Makes the Difference (Sully Point Book 1)

by Nicole Smith

"Um, well, I sold a painting. To Sam. He wanted to pay more for it, but I got him down to a more reasonable number."

  "He wanted to pay more...wait, he knows about your paintings?" Holly practically shrieked.

  "Hey, relax. It was an accident how he found out, but I'm thinking it's time I had a professional look at them. Sam knows a gallery owner in New York, so I may ask him to contact the guy. But my paintings aren't the issue. If you think we need to shop, then I guess we'll be shopping tomorrow. When will you get here?"

  "I'd get there tonight if I didn't have to meet clients for dinner. Clearly tons of things have been going on that I don't know about. I'm going to rearrange my appointments now so I'll be there by nine in the morning. You'd better be prepared to tell me everything!"

  "Okay, okay. See you tomorrow."

  Holly hung up and Anna looked at her phone and shook her head. She was going to get grilled by Holly in the morning. The most important thing to remember was she couldn't reveal Sam's true writing career. Even if she had to lie to Holly. And lying to Holly always went so well.

  Anna called her father at the loft and told him she'd fix dinner, since she was already home and had nothing to do. She decided to make lasagna and went out to get some ricotta cheese. Once she was back home and began to cook, her mind kept straying to the time she'd spent with Sam at the beach house.

  It seemed strange, thinking about it now, how comfortable she was just sitting in a room with him as he wrote. The atmosphere had been soothing and relaxed--even though Sam was entirely focused on his writing. She'd watched him typing away on his laptop, occasionally brushing back the blonde hair that fell into his eyes. The thing about Sam was that he seemed entirely present in whatever he was doing at the time.

  She still couldn't figure out why he was attracted to her. Finishing off the layering of ingredients in the baking dish, she sprinkled parmesan cheese over the top. As she put it in the oven, she thought again of his laptop. Computer. Internet. She could look him up! Not him, but Tom Anders. Surely he'd had girlfriends whose picture had been taken. Maybe if she got a glimpse of the kind of women he dated normally...

  Anna ran upstairs to the desktop computer she kept in her bedroom. There she did a search for Tom Anders and wasn't really surprised to see tons of entries. She began clicking down the list. As she looked at photos of him at book release parties, movie openings, and other places she began to find photos of him with women. Not too many, but enough. And they were all blondes. Every single one. Frowning at the computer screen, she continued until she found the most recent photos of him taken about three months before he arrived in Sully Point. There were several with the same woman--Patrice Bettencourt. Tall, beautiful, blond wearing long, slinky, sparkling dresses--the complete opposite of what Anna felt about her own looks.

  What kind of game was Sam playing with her when this was the kind of woman he preferred? She found herself getting angry and finally she yanked her cell phone out of her pocket to call him--only to remember she had once again neglected to get his number. Feeling her anger growing, she ran down the stairs and checked the lasagna. It was done and her father and Cody came in the back door just as she pulled it out of the oven.

  "Hey Anna, you won't believe how much we got done," Cody said as he came over to sniff at the pan of lasagna.

  "Yeah, honey, we're moving right along," Frank said. Then he got a good look at Anna's face. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

  She shook her head. "I can't talk about it. Listen guys, this is ready to eat after you let it sit for five minutes or so. There's a loaf of Italian bread over there on the counter. I need to go somewhere for a little while. Be back soon."

  "Anna--what is it?"

  "Just a mistake, something I need to straighten out. See you later." She ran out the door before they could ask any more questions.

  * * * *

  Sam sat in the rocking chair, with a beer in one hand, as he watched the ocean. A brisk knocking on the door startled him and he got up to answer it. Opening the door he found Anna, an intensely angry Anna, who stormed into his house.

  "I don't know what you're playing at Sam Carter, but it ends now. You aren't going to get away with whatever it is you're doing."

  He felt baffled. "What are you talking about Anna?"

  "Is this part of your pattern? Do you 'fall' for a local girl in every small town you go to for your writing? Is it some kind of game?"

  Sam frowned. "Anna, please sit down and let's talk calmly about--"

  "I don't want to sit down! And I don't feel calm. I saw the pictures, Sam. All the beautiful blondes. You have a very clear type, and it's nothing like me."

  "Pictures?"

  She sighed heavily. "On the internet, where else would I see photos of you?"

  "You mean you saw pictures of Tom Anders."

  "Tom Anders is you! You can't tell me you took out all those women and didn't like them."

  Sam picked up his beer from the table and took a gulp. "No, I'm not going to tell you that. I guess I have had a type, in the past. But the last woman I was involved with--"

  "Patrice?" Anna asked in a snide voice.

  "Yes, Patrice. I think she cured me of that type forever."

  "She broke up with you?"

  "No, I ended it. She was a cold, vicious, conniving bitch if you want to know. When I finally woke up and realized who she was, I got out of the relationship."

  "Whatever. What I don't understand is how you can say you're attracted to me--"

  "In love with you. That's what I said."

  Anna faltered for a moment. "Okay fine. How you can say that, when I'm the opposite of what those women are? It doesn't make any sense!"

  She flopped down on the couch, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and head in her hands. She continued talking in a low, hurt voice. "If this is a game to you, an amusement while you're away from the big city, you can end it now. I won't be someone's plaything."

  Sam moved quickly to sit beside her. "Anna, no. I would never--I couldn't do that, to you or to anyone else. This is no game to me. I never loved those women in the photos."

  Anna looked up at him. "How do you know what you are feeling now is real?"

  "All I can tell you is that it feels different to me that anything before. I wasn't looking to fall for anyone when I moved here. But then I met you, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. I wanted to know you, what you were thinking and feeling. I wanted to be with you. That's what I still want."

  Anna gave a long shuddering sigh. "You sound like you mean that. I saw those pictures and it just didn't make sense to me. How you could like that type of woman and then compared to me--it seems like a very big difference."

  "One of the main differences is that you are, well, real, Anna. There's nothing fake about you. Do you know how rare that is, at least in the world of Tom Anders? You're straightforward and honest. And you have those changeable fascinating eyes that draw me in so that I could stare at them all day. And don't even get me started on your figure."

  He noticed the pink blush on her cheeks as she sat up straight. "You really think that stuff about me?"

  "Yes, and I'll keep telling you until you believe me."

  "Okay."

  Sam felt like jumping up and down at that simple concession. She wasn't giving up on them. Thank God.

  "Uh, Sam, about tomorrow night--are we going to the Diner? Or somewhere else?"

  "I thought we'd go one town over, to Alberto's. They have good food."

  "Okay. Trying to nail down what I'm wearing."

  Sam laughed. "Don't worry, I'm sure it will be fine. I'm looking forward to it. You'll probably see me in the morning first--for a muffin or donuts at the bakery."

  She smiled. "What's your favorite kind of donut?"

  "Honestly? Coconut. But I love all kinds, really."

  "Come in early tomorrow," she said as she stood up. "I rarely make coconut, so they go quickly."

  He stood up next to her. "Save me some?"


  "Sure. I'd better go now. I ran out on dinner with Dad and Cody."

  "What will you tell them?"

  "Probably nothing. They're used to me being a little bit odd."

  "That's funny. You don't seem the least bit odd to me."

  She looked up at him, eyes sparkling in amusement. "Then you clearly don't know me well enough yet." She turned and walked through the doorway, pulling the door shut behind her.

  Sam ran both hands through his hair. "Just give me time, Anna. Just give me time."

  Chapter 6

  Anna woke up thinking about making coconut donuts. Deciding she'd better get in a half hour earlier than normal, she rushed through her morning ablutions. Coconut donuts always took her longer to make than other kinds.

  She decided she still felt nervous about this thing with Sam, but he had gotten to her last night. What he'd said felt honest and true. And some of those women in the photos had looked a bit, well, fake. Staring at herself in the mirror, outfitted in a pale blue uniform she shook her head.

  Kayla had agreed last night to come in by nine o'clock to manage the bakery for the day. She had a work study program as a senior so there were some days when she could spend the whole day at the bakery. Anna felt a little guilty about asking at such short notice, but Kayla seemed happy to be making extra money.

  Shopping with Holly--now that should be an experience. Holly loved to shop. Anna never had loved it the way her sister did. At least on this trip it would be different because she was actually interested in what they would be buying. She knew she couldn't compete with the women she'd seen on the arm of Tom Anders. Therefore, she chose not to try. All she could do was be herself. Maybe an improved version, but still, the real Anna, and nobody else.

  * * * *

  Frank looked up in surprise from the kitchen table as his oldest daughter, Holly, walked into the house. "What are you doing here, Holly? Not that we don't love to see you, but I thought you were too busy to come for a holiday with us."

  Holly stared at him, hands on her hips. "I've come because of Anna. Dad, just what is going on with her? She called me last night asking about what to wear on her date tonight. Who is this guy and can he be trusted? I don't want to see her get hurt."

  Frank chuckled. "So they're going on another date? That's great."

  "Another?" Holly sat down across the table from him.

  "They were at the fair together. Cody said they seemed to be having a good time when he saw them."

  "And we all know Cody is the best judge of relationships."

  "Holly--be nice."

  She sighed. "Sorry, Dad. I'm just worried about Anna. She told me she sold one of her paintings. I can't comprehend that. She's always been so secretive about them."

  Frank frowned. "That was my fault. About Sam finding out. She told me last night he'd bought one for his living room. She seemed okay with it. Said he might put her in touch with a gallery owner, and I'll tell you, I'm glad to hear it. She needs to be out in the world more and not just cooped up in that loft all the time and hiding her paintings. There are plenty of them too. About time she got rid of some of them."

  "So you see all this as a good thing then."

  "Yes, I do. I think Anna is growing up and coming into her own. And yes, Sam may have something to do with it."

  "Well then, I hope he's a good guy. What does he do for a living?"

  "He's a writer. Although I think right now he's living off money he saved up so he can write his novel. I'm not sure if he's actually made money at writing yet, although he does have a pretty expensive car."Holly got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. She took a sip and smiled at her father. "So what else is going on around here? Clearly I haven't been home enough lately. I feel like I'm completely behind in the news."

  Frank smiled at his oldest daughter. "You know we'd love to see you back here more often. And you have missed out. Cody and I are fixing up Anna's loft. She's going to start living there permanently once we are done."

  Frank laughed at how startled Holly looked. "Oh you are the big sister, aren't you? Shocked to hear that the baby chick is leaving the nest? It's time for her to leave home."

  "Wow, things really are changing around here. Are you okay with it? You'll be all alone here."

  "I'll be fine. Might be nice to have the house to myself. Besides, it makes me proud when I see how you all are doing."

  Holly put down her coffee and crossed the room to stand next to Frank and give him a hug. "I miss you, Daddy," she said softly.

  "I miss you too, sweetie. But now I'd better get on down to the store. When are you meeting Anna?"

  "Right now. I'd better go too."

  "Good luck today. Shopping with Anna is bound to be interesting."

  "Hey, at least she wants to go this time. And anything will be an improvement over the last time I tried to get her to shop."

  They looked at each other and both started laughing.

  "Yep," Frank said. "Ought to be interesting."

  * * * *

  Anna was smiling at Sam as she handed him a box of coconut donuts, when Holly entered the bakery. She felt the smile freeze on her face as she waited for Sam to notice her sister. Holly came behind the counter and gave her a hug while Sam looked on quizzically.

  "Holly, this is Sam Carter. Sam, this is my sister Holly."

  She watched as Sam shook hands with Holly. And was stunned when his attention came right back to focus on her face, not Holly's. Why isn't he looking at her like everyone else does? Why is he looking at me? Then she realized Sam had asked her a question she hadn't heard.

  "Uh, what?"

  Sam gave her a gentle smile. "I was just telling Holly how we're going to Alberto's tonight and then I thought to ask if you like Italian food."

  "Oh, yes. I do."

  "I'll see you tonight then. Pick you up at seven, all right?"

  "That's fine. I'll be ready."

  He smiled again, and said, "Nice to meet you Holly," as he walked out of the bakery.

  "Well! He's gorgeous, Anna."

  "I know," she replied glumly. "I can't figure out what he could possibly see in me."

  "Maybe he's drawn to you for yourself ."

  "Come on, really?"

  "Really. You're something special, Anna, if you'd just let yourself see it."

  Anna stared at her sister.

  Holly nodded. "Okay then, let's get going. Is Kayla subbing for you?"

  "Yes, she's in the back. Kayla!" Kayla came to the front and greeted Holly.

  "Now Holly, before we go, I want you to look at Kayla and at me and be honest. Are these uniforms in any way attractive?"

  Holly stared at them for a minute and then gave a little laugh. "Oh dear, those may have been a mistake. You look a little like those pastel cupcakes."

  "Exactly. There would be nothing wrong with wearing something like nice blue jeans and the same color shirt--white or a color, I don't care. I'm sick of polyester. So what do you say?"

  "You too, Kayla?" Holly asked.

  Kayla nodded vigorously.

  "All right, Anna. Do it whatever way you want. Just make sure you guys sort of match. Come on, we've got to get to the mall."

  Anna paled. "The mall? That's a half hour away. I thought we'd shop here."

  "Anna, no. There are only two dress shops here in town and they are a few seasons behind. You go change out of that horrid uniform so we can leave."

  Anna walked away shaking her head and muttering. "The mall."

  * * * *

  Sam settled at his computer after he finished eating coconut donuts. A run on the beach would definitely be happening after that treat. He felt good. Seeing Anna in the morning gave a lift to the start of his day. His smile faded as he thought about yesterday evening and how upset she'd been. The Tom Anders' photos--he never would have imagined they might cause Anna pain. But she was right, he had to own them as his own photos. Tom wasn't a separate person from him. And what he did in that persona reflect
ed back on him as Sam.

  It made him think about the use of the pen name in his work. He'd always hidden out, even from the very beginning. At first it was because he didn't think he was any good. He didn't want badly reviewed books to be attached to his real name. But then the books had taken off. And suddenly he was dealing with fans, movies, paparazzi, and everyone wanting a piece of Tom Anders. At that point he was very glad to have the pseudonym, to have a place where he could be a regular person.

  Now, after he'd spent time watching Anna as she ventured forth from her hiding place, he wondered. Wondered if it might be time to give up the pen name and write under his real name. He should talk to Norman about it. Although, Norm would probably flip out. 'We'll lose sales!' Sam could already hear the arguments. They'd have to figure out the best way to do it.

  He found his thoughts going to Anna again, and their date. He had the feeling she hadn't dated much, but had lived in her own little world. If he could convince her to let Stanley, his friend with the gallery, come look at her paintings her world might get a whole lot bigger. Still, the one thing he was beginning to see about Anna was she could stand up for herself. She wasn't some helpless fainting violet. All anyone had to do was look at her paintings to see that. Who she was as a person came through in her work--an intense, vibrant, strong woman. His attentions may have thrown her off her game a bit, but he had no doubt she would adjust to having him in her life, if that was what she wanted.

  The phone rang. Before Sam could even say hello, Norm's voice came out of the phone.

  "Sam, it's Patrice. She's found out where you are. I think she might show up there. Bribed my damn mail clerk. I'm sorry about this pal, but I thought I should tell you right away."

  Sam sat up abruptly in his chair. "Patrice? Here? Norm, I so don't need that right now. Damn. When did she find out?"

  "Last night, from what I could tell this morning before I fired the mail clerk. So you could be seeing her today."

  "Great, just great." He listened to Norm splutter on about unreliable employees and confidentiality clauses. Finally he interrupted the flow of words.

  "Norm, listen Norm, I've decided something. I think we ought to get rid of the pen name. Tell the world it's me writing the books. There's no point to having Tom Anders anymore. I was thinking--"