Second Chance At Two Love Lane

by Kieran Kramer

  “Darling.” It was Samantha, sounding concerned.

  Ella turned, and she couldn’t help her face setting into lines of annoyance. To be subjected to those three men and their stupidity was something she didn’t deserve. “They were horrible,” she said.

  Samantha threw up her hands. “I wanted you to meet them and see how lovely Hank was in contrast.”

  “Oh, Samantha.” Ella leaned against the counter. “You didn’t have to do that. I already know he’s wonderful. And I-I have no way to control this situation. If he goes, he goes.”

  “You can tell him you love him.”

  Ella’s eyes burned. “I’ve done that before.”

  Samantha sighed. “Sometimes things don’t take the first time around. They need time. Like breads that need two risings. And a good wine. And my special coq au vin. My mother’s recipe. She was French. Did you know that?”

  “No, and it smells delicious.” Samantha must be a good cook. Ella was impressed she didn’t cater every meal, even though she had the funds to. And she loved that Samantha was proud of her mother and her family recipe.

  “Hank’s coming,” Samantha reminded her. “He’ll be disappointed if you go.”

  The Sinatra music continued, but now it felt less jaunty and fun, especially because Frank was singing “My Funny Valentine,” which was sad.

  Ella was nobody’s Valentine.

  She put a lock of hair behind her ear, and tried to think what to do. “I know you meant well, but I don’t know if I can sit down to a meal with those guys.”

  Samantha drew herself up. “I had every intention to be aboveboard about this, and I obviously failed. I want you and Hank to be together,” she said, “and to your face, I’m telling you right now that whatever I can do to make that happen, I will. I’m putting you next to him at the table. I’ll focus on my three terrible guests as much as possible. And you and Hank talk. How much have you gotten to do that this week?”

  “Hardly ever,” Ella said. She perked up. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course,” said Samantha.

  Ella hugged her. “Thanks. Will Hank feel manipulated, do you think?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Samantha. “I told him the same thing—that I’d love to see you two together.”

  “That’s really generous of you.”

  “Don’t believe it. The only reason I didn’t go after him myself is that he’s too good for me. But not for you. You’ve spent your adult life helping everyone else find love. Let me help you. In my own stupid way.”

  “You’re not stupid,” Ella said, and hugged her.

  A knock came at the door.

  “It’s our boy,” Samantha said. “Trust me for the rest of the night. And then you two can head home.”

  “But Samantha”—Ella had a hard time saying it—”he’s leaving soon.”

  “I know,” Samantha said. “Remember what I said. Sometimes the second time around is the right time.”

  They looked at each other, and Ella realized that people had to decide on their own whether or not to embrace love when the inevitable conclusion was separation.

  She had to decide. No one else could do it for her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Whether you choose to go all in with Hank or not,” Samantha said, reading Ella’s thoughts, “just know either way, I’ll be here for you. On the phone, that is.”

  “You’ll have to come back and visit,” Ella said.

  “And you’ll have to come visit me.”

  “I think we’re friends.” Ella smiled at her.

  “I think so too.” Samantha smiled back. “I don’t have a lot of female friends. Only a few girls from my youth who knew me before—and my makeup artist.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  When Hank came in, Ella’s world turned bright again. She could put up with those three guys. And now that she knew what Samantha had been up to, she was mildly amused. She could talk to Samantha’s L.A. posse and save up some of their ridiculous statements to share with her girlfriends later.

  Dinner was incredible. Samantha was a woman of many talents. And she was true to her word. She kept her three guests from the West Coast entertained so that Ella could snatch a few minutes here and there to converse only with Hank.

  “You look so pretty tonight,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She’d gone out of her way to dress up, knowing he would be there. She’d done a little something different with her hair too, putting rhinestone-studded bobby pins at her temples. “You look good yourself.” He did. He always did. Tonight he wore a navy blazer and an open-necked, pale blue button-down Oxford. “Did you have a good day on the set?”

  “Great,” he said. “After you left, Samantha and I ran through one scene that had been giving us trouble, and we got it right after two takes. Then she left, and I had to do several scenes with her character’s henchmen. You know, when they kidnap me.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s a scary part. But you look good for a guy who had a knife held to his throat and then is put into a freezer.”

  “Thanks,” he said, but she could tell he wasn’t really listening.

  She wasn’t either.

  They were under a spell—just being with each other was enough.

  She loved him.

  Oh, how she did!

  He managed to take her hand under the table and give it a squeeze before the astronomer asked him a question. From that point on, Ella and Hank were diverted from talking to each other the rest of the dinner, which drove her crazy.

  “Let’s go up to the roof again,” Samantha said, “while my film cousin whips up the cream for dessert. You good with that, Ella?” She stood.

  “Of course.” Ella grinned. “Y’all disappear. I’ll get coffee going too.”

  Everyone stood. The three visitors were fighting over who had better fans: the Lakers or the Dodgers.

  Y’all? Hank mouthed to Ella silently.

  “It comes naturally these days,” she whispered.

  “I’m staying down here to get the dishes off the table,” Hank announced, not that the three guys from L.A. were really listening. They were already moving to the door leading to the roof. “We’ll let you know when dessert’s ready.”

  “Very well,” said Samantha, looking pleased.

  As soon as the door to the roof shut, Ella went straight into Hank’s arms, and he kissed her. It was like being wrapped up in a fine cashmere sweater on a cold winter’s day and sipping hot chocolate before a fire—but about a million times better.

  “I missed you today,” he said. And kissed her again.

  “I’ve missed you too.” It was a huge understatement, but sometimes saying what you really meant was impossible. Showing it, on the other hand, did wonders for getting the message across.…

  He backed her into the kitchen. They kissed all the way.

  She pulled back. “I need to whip the cream.”

  “Fine.” His eyes were warm with lust and affection—a look she remembered well.

  His gaze followed her every move as she fumbled for the metal bowl and two beaters she’d asked Samantha to put in the freezer. Hank stood behind her the whole time, ran his hands down her hips, over her breasts.

  He kissed her neck. “Why is the equipment in the freezer?”

  “Whipping cream whips better and faster if you use a cold bowl and beater.”

  “Ah.”

  She kept going, grabbing the carton of heavy whipping cream from the fridge and pouring it into the bowl. It was thick and rich.

  “This is going to be good,” Hank said.

  She connected the beaters to the hand mixer Samantha had left out for her. Plugged it in. The beaters spun into a blur, and the cream swirled and formed a rapid whirlpool. Ella added a pinch of sugar from a sugar bowl on the counter.

  Hank wrapped his arms around her waist and watched over her shoulder. “How long does it take?”

  “Not long,” she said. “Just a few minutes
.”

  They watched together, saying nothing, his body pressed against hers. She leaned hers into his. This is where I belong, she thought. With this man.

  When the cream formed stiff peaks, she reluctantly turned off the mixer. “It’s ready,” she said. Sadly. And looked up at him over her shoulder.

  “I forgot to do the coffee!” he said.

  She grinned. “Good!”

  They bustled around, looking for the coffee, the filters, pouring water into the Mr. Coffee machine. They would have a few more minutes to themselves until the carafe filled and the aroma of coffee infused the air.

  “So are you excited about finishing up here?” she asked him.

  “I’m glad my scenes are done,” he said. “They were the hardest ones to do, the Battery wall ones and the kidnapping stuff. Nothing else comes close. Up in Montreal, we’re doing mainly office and outdoor urban scenes.”

  There was a tense silence. The coffee was ready.

  “I want to go home,” Ella said.

  “Me too.” Hank went to the door at the base of the staircase to the rooftop and opened it. She heard him run up the stairs and open another door. “Hey, everyone. Dessert’s ready. So is the coffee. Ella and I have to go.”

  “You’re going before the torte?” Samantha asked.

  “Afraid so,” said Hank. “Ella’s already gone. She got a call from her mom. Everything’s fine, but they want her to come over for something. And I’m heading out because I don’t know my lines for tomorrow.”

  Ella smiled, alone in the kitchen. Of course, he knew his lines.

  “Wow,” one of the guys said. “Well, good to meetcha, man.”

  Farewells were exchanged.

  Samantha was quite amenable. “Tell Ella thank you for dessert, and I will see you both tomorrow.”

  Ella opened the front door and slipped out, racing down the stairs to the sidewalk. Hank appeared a minute later. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her.

  “It’s just you and me, kid,” he said.

  And it was. It was wonderful.

  “Did Samantha know you were lying?” Ella asked him.

  “Of course. At least this way her guests’ egos won’t be dinged.”

  They walked home along the Battery wall and then down Legare Street, which Ella told Hank was her favorite street in all of Charleston.

  “Then why didn’t we come this way before?” He made a funny-cute face.

  She laughed. “Because we’ve hardly had any time together. There is so much more I’d love to show you.”

  They walked hand in hand—swinging hands—and she didn’t think twice about it.

  At one point Hank stopped and texted Pammy. “I want to know where she is,” he said.

  Ella knew why. It was because he was hoping she wouldn’t be back at the carriage house. Ella was hoping the same thing. She waited expectantly.

  Hank’s face registered some sort of shock. “Well, I’ll be. She just answered a question I texted her this morning about some names I found on the back of the portrait in my room. I thought it might be the names of the three boys in the painting. She checked with her historian friends at the Charleston Library Society and found out the names belonged to three brothers who used to live in the big house and go to the carriage house to visit with the servants. They were all three swept out toward sea on a raft they made from scraps, a raft they floated in Charleston Harbor, near the piers. Two of them made it back in and went on to become important indigo merchants. The brother who didn’t has a marker in the St. Philip’s graveyard on Church Street. They never found his body.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “It was in the papers. A big story.” He read some more. “She’s with the mayor.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “They’re finishing up playing pool at the Blind Tiger, and they’re headed to dinner.”

  “Oh.” Ella still felt some misgivings about the mayor.

  “What?” Hank’s eyes crinkled around the corners these days whenever he was concerned about something.

  She shrugged. “I saw him on the set today. He was very cozy with the girl who carries the iPad everywhere.”

  “Mariah,” Hank said. “That’s his niece. She went to UCLA film school.”

  “She did?” Ella laughed. “I thought maybe he was flirting with her. I saw him kiss her on the cheek. And he put his arm around her, and she whispered something in his ear.”

  “She was probably telling him to be quiet when he visited the set.”

  “I was worried Pammy was being taken for a ride.”

  “No way. In fact, Mariah’s with them right now.”

  Ella breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad,” she said, and swallowed hard.

  “Do you think it’s possible for people to fall in love at first or second sight?” Hank asked her. “I mean the kind of love that can last? Because Pammy thinks that’s what’s happened with her and the mayor. I guess I should start calling him Reggie. Just in case, you know, they stay together.”

  They started walking again.

  “I think so,” Ella eventually said. “I have a hard time accepting it in my brain. But in my heart, I do believe it’s possible. I think love is bigger than time. Time can’t control it. Love sets its own pace.”

  “I think so too.” He squeezed her hand. “Pammy told you that you told her to ‘let go and let love.’”

  “I did,” she said. She thought about how she’d first seen him Monday morning and then would have to say goodbye to him less than a week later.

  He stopped again, pulled her off the sidewalk into a narrow alley between two Charleston single homes. It was lined with hot pink azaleas. He wrapped his arms around her. “Can you do that with me? At least until I leave? Can we just … let go? And let love?”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Yes,” she said. “I’m willing to do that.”

  He kissed her then, and something new and fragile blossomed between them, something that had nothing to do with anything that had happened between them a long time ago. It was fresh. And it felt bigger than the both of them.

  “Let’s go home,” he whispered.

  And they did. The last half block he picked her up and carried her.

  “You’re crazy,” she said.

  “Crazy in love,” he said back.

  At that moment she was so happy, she leaned her head on his chest and closed her eyes, let the rocking motion of his carrying her home lull her senses into something she could handle. Otherwise, she was heading to the moon. She was crazy in love herself.

  He put her down at the carriage house door so he could unlock it. But then he picked her up again and carried her all the way upstairs to his bedroom and laid her gently down on the bed.

  He opened the window, turned to face her, and started to slip off her shoes. She let him, and then she hopped right up.

  “Hey,” he said, “I’m trying to be romantic here.”

  “This is plenty romantic,” she said, and started unbuckling his belt.

  He undid her dress, helped her shimmy out of her panties, and unclasped her bra while he kissed her neck. They made love on the bed, fast and hard the first time, her arms flung above her head, Hank above her and then in her, her legs wrapped around his back, the window wide open, and a cool breeze caressing their naked bodies.

  And when that wasn’t enough, she rolled him over and teased him with her mouth until he was almost ready, then she slid on top of him and made him cry out her name before she took him all the way to bliss and back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hank didn’t want to leave Ella Friday morning, but he had to report to makeup at seven thirty. She was done on the set. She’d told him she planned on working at her office that day. She was going to check on Roberta, who would be finishing up her cheddar-penny baking hopefully that night. And she was going to prepare some notes for a talk on matchmaking and the skills one needed to find true love. She was giving it to a
woman’s group up in Manhattan in a few weeks. They’d already decided that she’d stay with him—and then he realized he’d be in Montreal, on the set for Forever Road.

  They’d woken up once in the middle of the night and made love again and then snuck down to the kitchen and had some brownies and milk and talked about her family, and his, and how they were all doing. They knew Pammy was home because her combat boots were by the front door. She liked to take them off and leave them there rather than make a lot of noise crossing the hardwood floors.

  So when Hank left Ella sleeping in his bed at seven, he knew she was short on rest. She sat up, though, when she saw him trying to sneak out.

  “Hey,” she said with a sweet, sleepy smile. Her hair stuck up every which way. He desperately wanted to make love to her again.

  Instead he came back and kissed her. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

  “Me either.” She kissed him back, her hand caressing the nape of his neck. He felt wanted. Strong. And loved. There was no better feeling in the world. “What time will you be done tonight?” She stretched, giving him a peek of the belly he’d lavished kisses on the night before.

  “I hope by eight,” he said. “Then I have to come back and pack. I wish I didn’t have to get back to Brooklyn, but I promised my agent I’d go to her birthday party tomorrow afternoon. I could cancel, but—”

  “You can’t do that to your agent,” Ella said.

  “Well, she’s a real friend. It would be hard.”

  “I understand.” Ella smiled. “I’d feel the same way. And you have to go at some point.”

  “I do.” What could he say? He took her hand. “Thank you for being you.”

  She gave a gentle laugh. “I am that.”

  “I mean, thanks for understanding me.”

  She looked down at their joined hands. “Thanks for loving me,” she said.

  Somehow their fingers clasped harder.

  “Tonight I have to be with Pammy too,” he said softly.

  Ella nodded. “Of course.”

  “I want to ask you something,” he said, “but I have to go now. But tonight, okay? After Pammy goes to bed.”