He wanted Ella. Everything else was gravy. But she was his center.
He hung the picture back up. Shut his window. Listened carefully in the hallway before he shut his door gently behind him.
He would let her sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“So come over tonight for dinner and drinks,” Samantha said to Ella on Thursday. “Some friends of mine from L.A. are flying in just to keep me company the next few days, and then we’re all going to New York. They’ve never been to Charleston. I’ll tell Hank.”
“Sounds fun,” Ella said. “Thanks for the invite.”
They’d just wrapped their scene, which meant that Ella was able to spend her entire afternoon back at Two Love Lane. And she had only one more scene to go. So far, the movie had been a fun experience, but even working with Samantha, she hadn’t felt that ambition to be a star pumping her up nearly as much as she thought it would.
She’d been thinking more about Roberta and how things were going at the commercial kitchen. And she’d been thinking about her mother. When she’d brought over the brownies the night before to Mama’s house, it was obvious Mama was trying too hard to be cheerful. Nonna Sofia was also markedly quiet, knitting away, ignoring Nonna Boo when she made her usual disbelieving comments about the women in Hollywood from their favorite reality show. “Look at her bazoongas!” Nonna Boo cried at one point. “They’re falling out of that dress! Someone needs to tell her. Ella, write a letter to Bravo.”
But neither Mama nor Nonna Sofia said a word.
And then Pammy, too, was on Ella’s mind. Ella had seen the mayor that very afternoon, touring the set, and she could swear he’d been flirting with his tour guide, the girl with the Bluetooth earbuds who carried the iPad. He’d put his arm around her. She’d whispered in his ear. And when he left, he went out of his way to walk through a crowd of crew members to kiss her on the cheek. And the girl had grabbed his elbow and whispered in his ear again.
Ella wasn’t sure what to think. But it gave her a bad feeling, especially as the night before, Pammy had come home from work and said the mayor had to cancel their dinner date at the last minute because he had work obligations.
Did he really? Or was the mayor a player?
If so, Ella was really worried. Because Pammy had told her she was already falling in love.
Ella believed real love could happen that fast. It had with her and Hank, long ago, when they’d had their first date at Serendipity 3, four years to the day after he’d asked her out when she’d gone to Serendipity 3 with Papa. So she wasn’t discounting Pammy’s feelings.
But what if the mayor didn’t love Pammy back?
And …
Ella hated to admit it, but more than anything, she was thinking about Hank and their sexy night together, and she wondered when it would and could happen again—she thought it would the night before, but she’d fallen into a deep sleep and she never heard him come in.
But that morning she’d seen he’d eaten some brownies. He’d even left her a note thanking her, which she was now carrying in her purse. She’d already re-read it about ten times. Dear Ella, your brownies are amazing. Like you. Thank you very much, and I hope I get to see you today. Hank XO
It was so sweet. And polite. And then there was the XO at the end. What did that mean? Did he really love her and want to hug her? Or was he just being friendly?
“It’s no wonder you’re not feeling all gung-ho about the movie,” Greer told her at the office. She was sitting on the edge of Ella’s desk, in her new lavender Stella McCartney pantsuit and a frothy white blouse, both from the Junior League Thrift Shop. Roberta had inspired her to go there. She was holding Hank’s note in her hand. “And I think the XO is a sign of genuine affection.” She smiled at Ella as if she was slightly pathetic, which Ella knew she was. “You can’t read too much into it. But it’s definitely nice.” She handed it back. “I think the most important thing about the note is your reaction. It’s very clear you’re head over heels for him.”
“Did you say head over heels?” Miss Thing called from the outer office.
Greer had forgotten to shut the door all the way. “Sorry,” she whispered to Ella.
They both laughed quietly.
“You might as well come in,” Ella called out to Miss Thing.
Miss Thing did just that, her pink-and-white polka-dot sheath a miracle of fine tailoring and a testament to her cheery nature. She left Ella’s office door wide open. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said. “Those words are like candy to a baby. Head over heels. Are you that way about Hank?”
“What’s going on?” Macy walked by with a few file folders and peeked in.
“Come on in.” Ella gave up. You couldn’t say anything at Two Love Lane without everyone eventually contributing an opinion.
Macy looked extra sexy in a fitted white dress with a low cowl-neck collar that showed off her tanned collarbone. Her smile was bright, her blonde ponytail high. “I sense tension. Which could be love brewing. And saying that reminds me of coffee and Pete at Roastbusters. Are we talking about Miss Thing and Pete?”
“Absolutely not,” said Miss Thing, her cheeks turning even pinker under her generous application of blush. “We’re talking about Ella being head over heels for Hank.”
“Are you?” Macy asked.
“Yes,” Ella admitted. “I am. It’s terrible because I’m doomed to heartbreak. Again.”
Macy and Greer looked at each other, their eyes wide.
“Miss Thing, are you head over heels for Pete?” Greer asked.
Miss Thing’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes, sugar. I’m doomed too. But there it is.” She looked up to heaven. “I hope my darling departed husband won’t hold it against me.”
“Of course he won’t,” said Macy. “He’d want you to be happy.”
Miss Thing wiped away a tear. “It’s hard moving on,” she whispered.
Outside, a mockingbird sang its song. The house itself, steeped in the comings and goings of generations, seemed to sigh. Time moved on, but within its walls, love lasted. Love was what gave Two Love Lane its heart.
Greer held Miss Thing’s hand. Macy put an arm around her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” said Ella, feeling her friend’s sorrow. “It really is.”
The older woman sniffed. “Even if I get over that part—which I’m not sure I can—I don’t think Pete likes me back. He said he’s already had his one love. I did too. I’m awful for thinking about getting a second chance.”
“No, you’re not,” Macy insisted, and hugged Miss Thing closer.
“You can’t stop living,” Greer reminded her, and squeezed her hand harder.
“Everyone deserves a second chance, and a third, and however many they need,” Ella told her. “You have to live and love until the very end. You can’t just quit.”
Miss Thing smiled. “‘Live and love until the very end.’ I like that.”
“And you need to take your own advice,” Greer told Ella. “You’re not doomed to heartbreak. This is an opportunity.”
“You may be in for a wild ride,” Macy said to both Ella and Miss Thing. “But that’s life. At least you can look back later and say you never chose boredom. Or giving up.”
“Right,” said Greer. “The risks you’re taking are worth it. You deserve to love and be loved. Period.”
Miss Thing shook off her friends gently and went to the door. “I’m not giving up on life and love. And I hate to be bored. But I sure as sugar ain’t gonna run after Pete. Love’s a two-way street.”
“Fine,” said Macy. “But don’t you pull off that street into a parking lot. Ya hear?”
“I hear.” Miss Thing gave a shy smile, but then she pointed a finger at Ella. “And you—you’d better rev your engines. And speed through a red light. You can’t let Hank get away. He’s obsessed with you. I could tell when we brought over the doughnuts.”
“How?” Ella was highly skeptical.
“Th
e way he looked up the stairs when he told us you were there in your room.”
“That’s all?” Ella twirled a pencil and tried not to be drawn in.
“It’s the little moments, honey,” said Miss Thing. “It was written all over his handsome face. You’re the woman he adores.”
Ella couldn’t help feeling delighted to hear that. But she’d been burned ten years ago—and it had happened overnight—so she wasn’t going to buy into Miss Thing’s fanciful daydreams a hundred percent. Maybe five percent. Or twenty, after what had happened between her and Hank in bed. Any more than that, and she was setting herself up for disappointment.
Then again, she’d just told Miss Thing she had to live and love until the very end.…
The love game was all so risky, Ella thought, and was still thinking that when she got to Samantha’s rental that night. It was a condo in a big mansion on South Battery. The owner lived in Connecticut and only came down several months a year. On the sidewalk outside, Ella made a quick phone call to Roberta.
“I’m leaving for the day,” Roberta said. “Ella, I don’t know about this. I am so exhausted after baking three thousand cheddar pennies. And I have to do this for at least two more days. I can’t spread out the baking because I need to get moving on those dates you’ve arranged for me with stellar men! The gala is getting closer and closer.”
“I know.” Ella wished she knew what to do. “I feel for you. Maybe taking off one day between bakes is a good thing.”
“No, I won’t do it,” said Roberta. “I’m going to push through. The sooner I can get back on the dating circuit the better.”
“How do the pennies taste?”
“I’m afraid to try one,” she said. “I need to eat the ten thousandth one I bake, right?”
“That’s what Miss Thing said.”
“So every one counts toward that number. I put the ones that break in a plastic bag and number exactly how many are in there.”
“Good going.”
“But they smell delicious. And it’s a great family recipe. I’m thinking about selling them. I could hire a team to do the baking, and I’d market them to all the tourists.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Ella said. “But save some for the locals too.”
“Don’t worry,” said Roberta. “I’ve got nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine to pass out to all my friends.”
“Yay!” said Ella, and looked up at the windows of Samantha’s condo. Dusk had fallen, and all the lights were on. It was a welcome sight. “Gotta go. Keep me posted. I’ve got five potentially awesome Aquarium dates lined up and ready to go when you are.”
“I can’t wait,” said Roberta. “Where do you keep finding these men? Charleston isn’t exactly Atlanta or Charlotte.”
“Two are men who want to try again with you. And the other three are guys you don’t know. They’re businessmen, but they don’t go to the Chamber of Commerce meetings or any of your usual places. Two are brand new to town, and one commutes between New York and Charleston every week.”
“Oh, they all sound appealing,” Roberta said. “This is giving me more energy for the next couple of days. Thanks, Ella.”
After they hung up, Ella had a warm feeling inside. Roberta sounded different. Ella had no idea if that tarot card reader had been blowing smoke. She also didn’t believe in magic, per se, or spells. But she did believe that people could convince themselves of something or pick up on stray bad vibes looking for a place to land. Maybe this crazy idea of baking cheddar pennies was exactly what Roberta needed to get her out of her long-standing rut. It was certainly the wildest piece of advice Ella had ever given one of her clients.
She had a pan of homemade Huguenot torte, Charleston’s signature dessert made with brown sugar, chopped walnuts, and Granny Smith apples, cradled in her left arm when she rang Samantha’s doorbell. She’d beat some heavy whipping cream in Samantha’s kitchen to serve as the topping. She’d already asked her hostess to pick some up when she went to the store. Samantha loved to cook, was doing all of it herself, and told Ella to add whatever she needed to her shopping list.
Samantha answered the door, a martini in her hand. She was in a blue silk caftan and looked gorgeous. “So good to see you,” she said, and pulled her inside. A great Frank Sinatra tune was playing somewhere.
“I’m excited to be here,” Ella said, not at all intimidated anymore by Samantha’s celebrity status.
“Come meet my brilliant L.A. friends,” Samantha said, “although they’re originally from all over. That’s how it is in L.A.”
“Of course,” said Ella. It had been like that in New York too. It was a place that attracted talented people from all over the world who wanted to be at the epicenter of American culture, a place where they could make a difference.
She’d been like that once, but now she saw how she could be fulfilled and make a big difference in a smaller city too, like Charleston.
The foyer and living room were fantastic: all modern paintings mixed with beautiful old furniture. And seated on the two sofas were three men, who stood when Ella and Samantha entered the room.
Ella was taken aback by how good-looking all three were, in different ways, and how fascinating their jobs were. These were accomplished men with creative sides, which would have been hugely attractive to her just last week. All of them were in their thirties. Dating age.
But she wasn’t interested. Not one bit.
You love Hank, a little voice inside her said.
She wasn’t going to lie to herself. But how could she be in love with a man who had no intention of living in Charleston? Not that she was adamant about living there all her life—
But she pretty much was.
Wow. She hadn’t realized that until right now. Charleston was home. Charleston was forever for her. And it felt good to know that.
“Hank will be a little late,” Samantha said. “Let’s get some drinks and take them up on the roof. It’s nice out, and it’s all lit up.”
So they did. It was a charming space, with comfy chairs and big potted plants, strands of lights hung from the walls, and an amazing view of the harbor. Ella got to talk to all three men alone without a lot of interruption. Every time one started up a tête-à-tête with her, Samantha would somehow manage to wrap the other two into conversation.
Ella was highly suspicious that her hostess was trying to play matchmaker. But Samantha knew Ella was crazy about Hank. Why would she do this? Was it because Hank was leaving soon? Maybe Samantha was hoping these men would serve as a distraction for Ella after he left.
“So tell me more about yourself,” said the guy Ella was currently talking to. He was her third out of three.
He ran an observatory on a remote mountain in New Mexico four months a year. The other eight he taught astronomy at UCLA. During his free time, he played with a group that adapted pop music to the cello. He also liked to run half marathons and cook. He specialized in Cuban dishes.
Samantha had been sure to outline all the guys’ wonderful qualities before they each had their own little interview with her. Ella was trying her best to put up with the obvious set-up. Later, she’d take Samantha to task.
So far, the first one, the CEO of a major tech company in Silicon Valley, had been extremely egotistical. He actually admitted it, but he said it was because when you’re in the world’s top one percent, how else were you supposed to feel but extra good about yourself? The second guy was relatively humble. He ran a huge nonprofit that benefited runaways on the streets of L.A., a very worthy cause, so he was in contact with a lot of celebrities who wanted to help. But he had a thing about wanting to date only tens, he said.
And left a big silence.
“Do you think I want to date you?” she asked. “And that’s your way of deflecting me? Because guess what, I don’t want to go out with you.”
“Uh, are you sure?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent positive,” she teased him.
“Okay.” He grinned. “Good to know.”
“And I’m a hundred percent positive I’m done talking with you,” she added.
His face fell, and she moved on to guy number three.
“You’ve heard I’m a matchmaker,” Ella told him.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I love that.”
“Thanks.” She waited to see if he’d ask her more about herself.
“You get desperate people together,” he said.
She disliked him. Instantly. “I’d hardly call any of our clients desperate.”
“Anyone who needs help dating is pretty desperate.” He chuckled.
“I think you’re extremely judgmental,” she said, “and I’m going downstairs to fix another drink.”
“How about one for me too?” He held out his glass, and she walked right by him.
“Samantha,” she said pleasantly, “I’m not sure I can stay for dinner.”
“But—”
“I’m ready to go.”
“But Hank’s not here yet.”
“Give him my best regards.”
“Ella—” Samantha followed her to the roof door.
Ella stopped long enough to say under her breath, “Not one of these guys can hold a candle to Hank. So why on earth would you be trying to set me up with them? I’m not interested.”
“I know,” said Samantha. “They’re awful. I only wanted you to see that Hank is one in a trillion. He’s the guy for you. I sense that. The way you two look at each other—”
Ella shook her head. “But he’s leaving.”
Samantha sighed. “I know. Don’t let that happen.”
“I can’t stop him. And this sort of game is not the way to get us together.” Ella strode down the rooftop stairs and into the kitchen, where she deposited her glass with a slightly trembling hand. Those men had been jerks, and she was more than a little annoyed that she’d been manipulated by Samantha, even though the Englishwoman’s heart had been in the right place.
Matchmaking was an art. Not a mere skill. There was nuance to it. Intuition. A little bit of luck, too, but you had to be prepared for that luck. And preparing involved years and years of analyzing potential dating scenarios.
Second Chance At Two Love Lane Page 24