This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel)

by Liasson, Miranda

  “Ryan Connor’s upset you’re gone,” Sylvia said.

  Their biggest client. America’s self-help guru, who was writing a sequel to his book on being assertive that was certain to be another blockbuster.

  Olivia straightened one of Annabelle’s socks, which were perpetually on the verge of falling off. “I e-mailed him I’d be back in two weeks. Helen can handle things until then.”

  “He’s not used to working with Helen. He wants you. And you know how obsessive he is. He’s insisting on face-to-face meetings.”

  “Tell Helen to forward me any e-mails she’s concerned about. And tell Ryan I’ll meet with him all he wants when I get back. There will still be plenty of time to go through the whole book again.”

  “And how’re the relationship book edits coming? I know you’re dealing with some tough shit but I was wondering if you’d had a chance to get to any of that?”

  Ah, Sylvia. Always such a soft heart.

  The answer to her question was, yes, Olivia had. For the ten free minutes she’d had last night before she passed out at the kitchen table. At midnight, she awakened to Annabelle’s cries, only to find her cheek had been pressed to the keyboard and the screen was full of hundreds of ZZZZZs.

  “I’m working on it,” Olivia said. “I promise to deliver everything by deadline. You know I always do.”

  “You’re a talented editor and a hard worker. But Ryan Connor is a major, major player and I simply can’t risk his unhappiness.”

  “I’ve never let you down before, Sylvia. I won’t now.”

  Olivia rubbed the right side of her forehead. Was that her migraine returning? She had to have a real discussion with her boss. One that involved the issue of cutting back her hours, because how else could she make this work? But instinct told her now was not the time.

  She finished the call and slipped her phone back into her purse just as a snow-white cap of hair appeared over the back of one of the reception area couches, followed by the bespectacled face of Brad’s grandmother, who waved her over. “Olivia, there you are. Yoo-hoo, dear, come sit and get settled while the show is on commercial.”

  “Effie,” Olivia said with relief, picking up Annabelle’s carrier and walking over to hug the older woman. “What show?” She hadn’t come here to watch TV, or be exposed to larger-than-life Brad. She needed to talk, to be the recipient of some of the wraparound comfort Effie had always supplied in times of distress. A little selfish maybe, but these were desperate times.

  Effie sat down carefully and patted the couch cushion next to her. She wore a bright pink cardigan and spotless white tennis shoes, and smelled of old-fashioned drugstore fragrance . . . like Emeraude or Chantilly. Familiar and comforting.

  “Bradley’s being interviewed about that charity event he’s hosting over Memorial Day weekend.” Effie perused Annabelle, who sat quietly in her carrier, four fingers stuffed happily in her mouth. “My goodness, she’s grown since last week. And she does look like Patricia!” Effie patted Olivia’s hand. “I’m so glad you came, dear.”

  “I wanted to see you.” Olivia looked into Effie’s eyes, the same startling green as Brad’s. Uncanny, how much that gaze was like her grandson’s. Olivia quickly shifted her own gaze to the baby, who was dressed in a tiny sundress sprinkled with strawberries and bumblebees and a matching sun hat. Olivia squatted down next to her and ran a finger over her velvety cheek before undoing the straps of her carrier.

  She wanted to tell Effie so many things. Things she couldn’t share with her grieving father, but that she surely would have told her sister. Like how her heart squeezed when she thought of this baby, so alone. Except for her, the scary caretaker.

  The last few hours had become a comedy of errors. She’d slept off her headache while the baby napped, but then it had taken another hour between soothing, feeding, and changing before she finally got herself decently dressed. Another hour before she could put on makeup—at least enough to camouflage the dark circles. She’d finally dressed Annabelle and set out again.

  “Oh, it’s starting.” Effie clasped her hands together in excitement then gestured to the remote. “Turn it up, would you, honey?”

  Olivia placed Annabelle on Effie’s lap and sat.

  Olivia cranked the volume and stared at Brad’s chiseled body, secretly enjoying the opportunity to stare that she wouldn’t have in real life. He reclined gracefully at an outdoor table in a finely tailored suit, his shirt as white as his straight, beautiful teeth. The wind gently stirred the thick layers of his dark hair, the sun picking up its golden highlights. Olivia felt like she was watching a movie shot in the Riviera with a sexy male lead instead of a local news interview.

  “That’s Erika Peters, from Channel Five. She’s working with Bradley on the Bachelors Who Cook event.”

  Next to him sat a sultry woman with glossy black hair and pouty lips who could have been the missing Kardashian sister with her defined cheekbones and sexy curves. She spoke into the camera. “I’m working very closely with successful entrepreneur Brad Rushford, who’s kindly offered to host Bachelors Who Cook at his newly remodeled restaurant Reflections.”

  “Brad owns four other restaurants in the southeast area, including the new Vino in New London, which just got an excellent Zagat rating,” Ms. Peters said. “What’s next, Brad? We’ve heard rumors of a new restaurant in Philly or some even say Paris. Talk about a local boy making good.”

  “My restaurants are doing well,” Brad said. “But I’m especially proud of the one here in Mirror Lake. If it helps bring people to town where they can discover everything we have to offer, all the better.”

  Effie beamed. “I’m so proud of him. He was fifteen when his parents passed, you know. And then I had that heart attack and couldn’t work. And trying to feed and clothe and get five children through college on a nurse’s salary—Lord, we’ve been through a lot. But I feel like he’s my own child.” She sat with her hand pressed over her heart, proudly beaming at the TV and holding Annabelle tightly.

  As the camera panned around the restaurant, Brad explained the renovations. It looked like a pretty, open place, right on the water, and nothing like the crab shack of its previous incarnation. He used to dream about owning his own restaurant. How did he feel now that he’d become more successful than he ever imagined?

  “Tell us what you love about your home town,” Erika Peters said as she fingered his biceps, then made an “oooh” expression at the camera with her pretty, pouty mouth. She was perky and sexy, and way too familiar with Brad. Olivia cleared her throat of the thick, distasteful feeling caught there.

  “Well, I like lots of things about Mirror Lake. I like the people—especially my grandma Effie, who’s out there watching. Hey there, Effie, love you!” Brad, wearing a big grin, waved unabashedly at the camera.

  “He always was a ham, wasn’t he?” Effie mumbled, clearly pleased.

  “Sure was.” So clearly, Olivia remembered a younger version of that handsome face, showing off on her eighteenth birthday just for her. She could still see the pom-poms swaying on his sombrero as he sang “La Bamba” at her front door, accompanied by a Mariachi band comprised of their school marching band friends. Much to her father’s chagrin.

  And a more serious version, leaning against a big oak near the moonlit lake, shooting her a smile that sent tremors through her body and reduced her to a boneless pile of shivers. He’d cradled her face so gently in his big hands, his gaze bright and intense, his voice low and caressing. “There’s no one else for me, Liv. No one.” Then he’d kissed her, slow and gentle, till her toes curled and her knees buckled and every last thought in her head turned hazy and indistinct.

  Dramatic and intense, or comedic and crazy. That was the Brad she once knew and loved.

  For the millionth time, she tried to piece together exactly what had torn them apart. Brad had come to visit her, once, in the fall when
she’d left for college. He hadn’t even been able to stay an entire weekend. Maybe she’d been too exuberant about all the fun she’d been having. He hadn’t liked her friends. Wasn’t interested in hearing about her classes. Their differences had created a chasm that only seemed to widen with time.

  It hadn’t mattered to her that he wasn’t in school. God knew he was working multiple jobs, struggling to keep his family afloat. He had more maturity and determination than so many of the boys she’d met in college.

  But it had mattered to him. Brad had grown more sullen and distant, their fights more frequent. One evening at Christmastime, he’d sat with her on a bench on the town square and said it just wasn’t working for him anymore.

  She’d begged him not to break up with her. With a love as big as theirs, they could overcome anything, couldn’t they? But it was too late. Their relationship train was pulling out of the station, and he’d refused to board. She’d stayed there alone, in the park at dusk on a snowy evening, watching the snow swirl around the lamplight, feeling the big, fat flakes land on her face and melt there with her tears, until she could no longer feel her fingers or toes.

  And that was when she vowed never to come back to this small town. She’d make her future far away from all the heartbreak of a mother leaving and of the biggest love she’d ever known gone bad.

  “Oh, listen,” Effie said. “They’re talking about the event. You know, I think that woman has a crush on Bradley.”

  “Whatever makes you think that?” Olivia crossed her one leg over another and bounced her foot up and down.

  “. . . and it’s for a great cause, isn’t it, Brad?” Erika scooted a little closer and nudged him with a bare shoulder, tapped his thigh with her hand. Olivia felt a pain in her own thigh. She glanced down to find her fists clenched, fingernails digging into her skin.

  They’re just playing up the Bachelor event. It’s all about advertising and making Brad look appealing. Then why did the slow burn in her chest make her feel like mainlining Tums? And why did she nurse a deep desire to track Erika down and bind her up with microphone cord so she couldn’t touch Brad?

  “All the money’s going to Mirror Lake Community Hospital,” Brad said. “We’re going to have live music and great food, and the bachelors are getting auctioned off after the cooking competition, so everyone should come on down to the waterfront.”

  “And how many bachelors will be showcasing their cooking talents?”

  “We’ve got a dozen, all of us Mirror Lake businessmen and professionals.”

  “I’m excited to announce that you’re one of the bachelors, Brad. So ladies, come prepared to bid. That’s Memorial Day, at the waterfront, 6:00 p.m.” She reached out and grasped Brad’s jaw and shook it playfully. “You are so cute!” She let out a giggle. Brad raised a brow, but didn’t move away. “Sorry,” Erika said into the camera, “I just couldn’t resist sampling the merchandise.”

  “Did she just touch him on the face?” Olivia’s mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut before she realized she’d just said that out loud. Fortunately, Effie was too engrossed to hear.

  Olivia rose from the couch and walked to a side table with an automatic beverage brewer where she busied herself with making tea, grateful for an excuse to collect her thoughts.

  Seemed like everyone in Mirror Lake was smitten with Brad. Men liked him, women were crazy for him. And he was clearly very involved in the community. She scowled at his image, still grinning widely on the television. He certainly seemed to be enjoying promoting his event with Erika.

  The reporter was outgoing, sexy, and flirty. She was probably fun-loving, too. Olivia could see the appeal, and the stark contrast to her own life. She tended to date men who were working their way up the professional ladder as she was, with little time for relaxation. Her relationships got sandwiched in between long work hours and high-pressure deadlines. She wondered for the thousandth time if putting her personal life on hold for so many years to achieve her goals had been the right thing to do.

  She wished Effie weren’t so into the show so they could have a real talk. Olivia placed the tea on the coffee table and sat down again.

  “Effie, I—”

  “One second, dear. Brad’s talking to the mayor and the business council.” Effie remained mesmerized. At last she glanced down at Annabelle, who had fallen asleep in her arms. “Oh, would you take the baby? I’m getting a crick in my elbow.”

  Olivia lifted Annabelle and set her gently in her car seat. At last the show went to break. Effie grabbed Olivia’s hand, held it in both of her old, soft ones. “You’ll have to forgive me for being so excited about this crazy bachelor event. If you two had stayed together, I wouldn’t have to be so concerned about Brad meeting a nice woman and settling down.”

  “That was high school, Effie. We were just kids.”

  “Well, you’re not children anymore, are you, and neither of you is married.” She patted her hand and smiled a matchmaking grandma smile. “Oh, but things are so different now, aren’t they?”

  She said it facetiously, but they were different. In too many ways to count. Suddenly, the lump was back blocking her throat.

  Effie squeezed Olivia’s hands tightly. “Your whole life has changed faster than a gambler can bet away his fortune.” Effie hadn’t lost her talent to read her so well, even after all these years. “We’re all feeling lost, after all that’s happened. But look right there.” She canted her head toward the baby. “At that little bundle of trouble sitting in that fancy baby contraption. Both her parents live on through her.”

  Olivia pulled a hand loose from Effie’s grip and reached down to fiddle with the car seat straps. “Effie, I—” She wanted to say she just couldn’t do it, couldn’t be the mother Trish would have been, but she couldn’t form the words.

  Effie lovingly watched the sleeping baby. Annabelle’s little hand was splayed across her cheek, her breathing low and regular. “You may not believe this now,” she said softly, glancing up at Olivia, “but Trish and Kevin knew what they were doing when they named you this baby’s guardian.”

  No, they didn’t. Trish always thought the best of people. She was accepting whereas Olivia was eternally suspicious. That trait had gotten Trish taken advantage of frequently. Not to mention caused her to make a choice for Annabelle more based on emotion—or sisterly bonds or whatever—than logic. And somehow managed to convince Kevin of it, too.

  In her experience, emotional decisions didn’t move you up in the world. They got you demoted or fired. She’d seen it happen, and she was way too street-smart for that.

  Olivia wondered again why they hadn’t told her, asked her, explained exactly what the hell it was they were thinking? Surely they’d meant to. Kevin was a lawyer, for God’s sake. All she knew was that the wills were dated the day before the baby’s birth. Maybe in all the excitement, they’d simply forgotten.

  Effie shook her head vehemently. “Not a mistake.”

  “I’m not sure I should keep her,” Olivia blurted.

  The theme music sounded again, but Effie fumbled on the remote for the mute button. She gave Olivia her full attention.

  “I work all the time—twelve-hour days, mostly. Weekends, too. I can’t keep those kinds of hours and raise a child. It would be . . . unfair.”

  Effie mulled that over. She took a while before she answered. “Goodness, Olivia, you always were so responsible and serious. It’s what got you that big scholarship to begin with. Your head’s going a mile a minute with all this worrying. Try turning the head off for a while and just be yourself. Then a decision will come.”

  Going from responsible and serious to carefree and living in the moment wasn’t really going to happen with all the crushing decisions Olivia had to make. But as Annabelle slept and Effie told her stories of the other Rushford children and their goings-on, she found herself relaxing a little.

&n
bsp; “Don’t forget the big picnic this weekend,” Effie said. “You will come, won’t you?”

  “Picnic?” Olivia’s neck prickled with unease. Rushford picnics were legendary, and she was certain Brad never missed one.

  Whether she liked it or not, Brad would always be in her life. That fate was sealed the day Trish married Kevin, and now Annabelle would ensure its continuance. She might as well get used to it.

  Now Olivia felt the tug of an additional obligation. She was Annabelle’s link to the Rushford family, responsible, for her sake, for maintaining and strengthening it. “Of course we’ll be there.”

  She’d go to the picnic and catch up with the Rushford clan. She wouldn’t avoid Brad. Seeing him as part of life in Mirror Lake would desensitize her to the explosive hormonal reaction that took control of her body every time she approached within ten feet of him—or a TV screen. Soon she’d come to realize Brad was just an old memory, best kept bundled and tied off like old love letters in the attic. He’d lose his appeal, just like day-old coffee.

  Bitter, old, and best tossed for a fresh pot.

  Besides, he was nowhere near ready to settle down. Watching him flirt with Erika proved that. And, she suddenly realized, what she wanted—what she needed, for Annabelle, was the possibility of a real family. Getting involved with him would only be asking for heartbreak.

  She’d attend the picnic for Annabelle’s sake, and Effie’s. Not Brad’s.

  And she’d prove to herself she was over him once and for all.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Real or fake?”

  Brad looked up from his laptop as he sat at a table on the newly built deck of Reflections. He’d been so immersed in number crunching that he barely noticed his brother Tom drop his large muscle-bound cop frame into the chair opposite him.

  “It’s made of some superstrong material that’s fifty times more durable than wood and guaranteed to last forever,” Brad answered.