“Why is it that everything I want in life always rests in the hands of someone else?”
“That doesn’t have to happen with us....Make the decision yourself to be with me. Wherever that is.”
She shook her head. “I can’t make that choice right now, Logan. With Grandma being sick...”
“So what happens with us, then? I’ll see you when I see you? Someday? Never?” His voice was raw with emotion as he choked out the words.
Leigh raised a hand to his face and standing on tiptoes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “My choice would be someday, definitely someday.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“TO THE COMPLETION of the series.” Clive Romanis held his shot glass in the air above the table at LexBar in Manhattan the following evening. The after-work crowd was trickling in for appetizers and cocktails, and Logan and his agent had arrived early to secure their usual table.
Logan lifted his tequila shot. Tossing his head back, he drained the contents and set the glass on the table. He relaxed against the plush red velvet seats along the window, enjoying the heat radiating from the fireplace in the corner. Winter had arrived early in the city, and the trees outside that had once boasted colorful leaves when he’d left for Brookhollow were now bare and the sidewalk was covered in a thin layer of frost as evening fell on New York.
“You did it, man.” Clive shook his head. “I have to say, over the years I’ve never lost faith in you...but these last few months...”
“I know. And I appreciate your support,” Logan said, scanning the bustling hot spot. The watering hole used to be his favorite place to just sit, observe and write into all hours of the morning. Countless evenings had been spent watching human behavior in the dimly lit bar, where things seemed to get more intriguing with each drink and each passing hour. But now he longed for the friendly neighborhood bar in Brookhollow, or the bustling diner on Main Street or more than anything else, the gazebo in the backyard of the bed-and-breakfast.
He checked his watch. It was just past eight, but already he wanted to call it a night. Though he suspected the loneliness he felt would only follow him wherever he went. He checked his phone—no calls.
“You okay, buddy?” Clive asked. “I thought you’d be more excited to have the book submitted to the publisher. You can finally move on to something else.”
“Yeah...no...you’re right.”
“You are thinking about your next project, right? I mean we didn’t make this comeback just for you to slink away again, right?”
Logan knew Clive asked out of concern, that it was more than the big paycheck his work attracted. His agent was his friend and he cared about him. He wanted him to continue doing what he loved.
“Of course. I just need to focus on the court case next week, let my hand heal some more. But once the cast is off, I’ll be right back at it.”
“Great,” Clive said as his cell phone vibrated on the table next to him. Smiling, he answered it, hitting the button for speakerphone. “Gina, pretty lady, how are you?”
“Besides working late on this last-minute release party for you?” she answered sweetly. Clive, like his writer client, often left things to the last minute, driving their public-relations department crazy.
“Be nice, you’re on speakerphone. Logan’s here.”
“Hi, Logan. Congrats on the book release,” Gina said.
“Thanks, Gina.”
“Anyway, Clive, the venue is booked for Saturday night. Ella’s Lounge at eight o’clock will be on the invite. Full catering provided by Carla’s Bistro.”
“No shellfish,” Clive said.
The man had the most serious allergic reaction to shellfish Logan had ever seen.
“Trust me, no one wants to see your face swell like Eddie Murphy’s in a fat suit.... What was that movie?”
“The Nutty Professor,” Logan said.
Gina laughed. “That’s the one. Creepy.”
“All right, enough,” Clive said. “Anything else, Gina?”
“Yes, cash bar or open?” she asked.
“Open,” Clive answered with a grin. “Logan’s advance should cover it.”
“Gina, make sure the bistro throws in a few shrimp trays,” Logan said.
She laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. Usual guest list?”
“Yes,” Clive said.
“Um...actually...Gina, there’s another person I’d like to invite.” Logan knew she wouldn’t attend, but he had to invite her. Give her the opportunity to say no. And if she did show up...he wouldn’t even give himself the false hope.
“No problem. Just text me the name and address, and I’ll send the invite right away. Anything else, Clive, or can I go home now?” she asked with a yawn.
“That’s it. I appreciate your work, Gina.”
“Whatever. Remember this at bonus time,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Clive set the phone aside and studied Logan. “So, who is she?”
“Who’s who?”
“The mysterious extra guest.”
“No one you know,” Logan said with a shrug as he texted Gina Leigh’s name and address in Brookhollow.
“Let me guess...”
“No.”
“It’s that woman who helped you type the manuscript, isn’t it? Linda?”
“Leigh,” Logan started to say, but, her name stuck in his throat. Not hearing from her had been torture. What did he expect? He couldn’t expect her to put her plans on hold while he sorted his life out.
“Do you think she’ll come?” Clive asked, flagging down their waitress for the bill.
“No,” Logan answered honestly.
“So why invite her?” His agent slid the bill his way.
Logan opened his wallet and placed his credit card on the table. “Because I want to give her the opportunity to not show up.”
* * *
LEIGH CLOSED THE door to the guest room after checking on her grandmother. Almost a week since the heart attack and Ginger was feeling much better. Her appetite had returned and she’d returned to the bakery, but her shifts were short and she was still tired a lot. It was almost eight o’clock and normally she would have already been at the bakery for hours, but despite her request to be woken at six, Leigh had let her sleep. She’d deal with her wrath later if it came. Though in the past few days, her grandmother had seemed mellower, more accepting of her own limitations.
The doorbell rang and Leigh went to answer it. Opening it, she smiled as she saw Melody Myers and her twin boys on the porch step. “Hi, guys.”
Melody rubbed her arms as she danced from one foot to the other behind the kids. “It’s freezing out here.” She glanced toward the dark clouds in the early morning sky. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it was about to snow.”
“Come on inside and warm up,” she said.
“I’d love to...but if I shut off the van, it may not start again.” She checked her watch. “Besides, my shift at Play Hard Sports starts in an hour. Thank you again for watching them today. I swear, I can’t remember there being this many PD days when we were in school.”
“No, you and Pat just skipped class on your own,” Leigh said with a smile. Melody and her late husband had been known for their skipping class to hang out and record new music in Patrick’s homemade recording studio.
“You and Dad cut class?” Josh’s eyes were wide.
“Awesome, that means you can’t get mad at us when we do it,” David added.
Melody shot Leigh a look.
“Sorry, Mel. I forgot—little ears.”
Melody ushered the boys inside past Leigh. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m raising athletes, not scholars. They take after their parents when it comes to school, I’m afraid. By the way, is Mr. Walters st
ill here? I haven’t seen him around.”
Melody had met Logan? “He left earlier this week.” Leigh prayed her tone sounded nonchalant.
“That’s too bad. I wanted to thank him again for all of his help. I got an A on my Play Hard Sports management test last week.”
“Logan had something to do with that?”
“He helped me study. The other night at the bar—the night you were mad at him.” Melody clamped her lips tight. “Anyway, I was having trouble with memorizing a bunch of incredibly boring definitions. He helped by quizzing me.”
“Oh,” Leigh said. “That’s really great. Congrats, Mel.”
“I have to say, I’m not a fan of very many people, but he was kind of great,” she said, zipping her coat higher as a gust of wind whipped past them. “Sure made an impact on people around here.”
“It certainly seems that way.” All Leigh knew for sure was that he’d made an impact on her. A big one.
* * *
“DYLAN, PLEASE PUT YOUR hat back on,” Leigh said to the little boy, shivering in the late morning air. The wind whipped through her own fall jacket and she pulled her hood up to block the cold breeze from hitting her cheeks. These morning walks to the mailbox with the kids would be coming to an end now that the weather was getting so much colder. She didn’t remember last November second being this cold. Though she suspected she said that every year.
Behind her, the kids threw leaves at one another as she opened her mailbox and took out a handful of envelopes. Bills, flyers...and a white, gold-embossed envelope with her name written in script across the front. The return address in the top left-hand corner was a public relations firm in New York City. Unable to wait until they were back inside, Leigh locked the mailbox and tore open the envelope as she led the kids back toward the day care.
Her eyes flew across the embossed lettering on the invitation and her pulse raced. Logan was inviting her to the book-release party for book five in the series, the one she’d already preordered and was waiting eagerly to read.
She’d finished the first four in record time, reading late into the night every evening. While the books were suspenseful and often chilling, she couldn’t put them down, craving word after word, knowing they’d come from Logan. She’d traced her hand along the book covers, somehow feeling he was there when she was alone with the words she knew were painstakingly a part of him. And though the back cover images looked nothing like the man she’d fallen in love with, she’d spent more time than she’d ever admit staring at them.
“What is that, Miss Leigh?” Melissa asked, peering over her arm as she ushered them inside a moment later.
“An invitation,” she answered, laying it aside to help the kids with their coats. Reaching into the closet, she grabbed several hangers and handed them to the children.
“To a party?” David asked, kicking his boots into the closet.
“Sort of.” Leigh nodded, picking up the invitation again. Ella’s Lounge in New York. She’d never been, but Victoria talked about it all the time as one of her favorite places in Manhattan.
The last time she’d been to the city was to visit the fertility-treatment center there. At the time, an evening out hadn’t exactly been on the agenda.
“My dad buys me a new dress when we go to parties. Are you going to buy a new dress, Miss Leigh?” Melissa asked.
“Oh, I’m not sure I’m going.” Leigh desperate to act nonchalant, led the kids into the kitchen for their morning snack. Of course she wouldn’t go. What would be the point? She’d send a card to congratulate him—that was good enough.
The man saved your grandmother’s life and a card is good enough? She sighed.
“Definitely not going to go,” she muttered, unwrapping the banana bread she’d made the night before. She opened the cupboard and retrieved a stack of multicolored plastic plates, placing a slice on each and handing them to the kids sitting at the table.
“Why not?” Dylan asked, picking up his banana bread and taking a big bite.
“Why not? Let’s see. Well, it’s in New York,” Leigh explained, pouring their milk.
“How far is that?”
“About a three-hour drive...if traffic is good.”
“That’s not that far. We drive seven hours to Boston to visit Grandma and Grandpa every second weekend,” Isabel said.
Pulling out a chair, Leigh sat at the table and reached for a slice of the banana bread. “That’s different. Visiting your grandparents is important.”
“Whose party is it?” Melissa asked.
“Mr. Walters. Remember, the writer who was visiting? The man who helped us decorate the lawn for Halloween.”
Melissa’s eyes took on a dreamy glaze as she nodded. “He was cute.”
“He was almost forty years old,” Leigh said with a laugh. Besides, handsome would be the word she would use.
“He rescued me.”
“He was a nice man.” It appeared Logan had made quite an impact on everyone during his short visit.
“He didn’t hang your sign, though,” Dylan said. “And he had a scruffy beard.”
“That’s true.” Leigh suppressed a laugh. Was she really pro-and-conning the decision of whether to attend the book release party with input from three four-year-olds?
“If you do go, who will look after us? Ashley?” Isabel asked, eyes wide.
“I would only be gone for the day—on the weekend. I’d be back by Monday morning.” After having said goodbye to Logan once again. She didn’t relish the prospect. Standing, she poured a cup of chamomile tea and took a sip. “Anyway, I don’t think I’m going to go.”
She tossed the invitation on the stack of mail in a tray on her counter. What would be the point? Seeing Logan for one more night wasn’t enough, she knew that now. In the few days that he’d been gone, she’d missed him more and more with each passing minute. Missed his crazy sense of humor, his tiny chicken scratch, impossible-to-read writing, the way he looked at her and made her feel alive. Yes, definitely missed that last one the most.
* * *
LEIGH SAT IN the sitting room on Friday evening, the invitation in her hand. The past few days she’d spent more time than she would admit staring at the gold-embossed lettering stuck to her fridge and thinking about what it meant. Had he invited her just to be polite? Did he really want to see her again? Saying goodbye once had been hard enough.
“Hello?” Her grandmother Norris’s voice drifted through the house.
“In the sitting room, Grandma.” Leigh hid the invitation under a copy of Logan’s book on the end table and stood to hug her grandmother as she came in. Since the heart attack, her grandmother’s strength was returning more each day. However, she had agreed to start looking for an extra hand for the bakery to reduce her shifts and not be there alone. “How are you feeling?”
“Like it’s time for me to go home.” The older woman shivered, wrapping her cardigan sweater around her as she sat in the chair closest to the fireplace.
“There’s no rush, Grandma,” she said. The idea of her grandmother being alone in her apartment above the bakery terrified her. What if she had another attack? And, left to her own devices, would she stick to her promise of reduced shifts?
“I’m leaving in the morning. That’s final,” she said, tucking a blanket around her legs on the couch. “But don’t worry, I’ve decided maybe it’s time to move into the seniors’ complex. All of my friends are there anyway.”
Seniors’ complex? This didn’t sound like Ginger. Her grandmother had claimed she’d never get that old. The heart attack had clearly frightened her more than she’d revealed. “You don’t have to do that. You can stay here.”
“No way. You have your own life to worry about.”
Leigh sighed. “Any point in arguing?”
“Non
e.” Ginger unfolded a quilt on the back of the sofa and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s cozy in here.” She changed the subject, and Leigh knew to let the subject drop. Once her grandmother made a decision, she stuck to it.
“This is my favorite room in the house.”
Her grandma noticed the book on the table and picked it up. “This one of his books?”
“Yes. It just came out today. I finished the other four earlier this week.”
“You were always an avid reader, but that seems a little fast even for you,” Ginger said with a knowing look.
“His writing is fascinating, that’s all,” Leigh said with a shrug.
Ginger turned the book over in her hands and stared at the picture of Logan on the back cover. “He is handsome.”
She nodded. He was handsome, but more important, he was kind and smart, and thoughtful. As the days passed, she craved the sight of him, the sound of his voice more and more, and reading his books was the closest thing to being with him she could get.
Unless of course she went to New York that weekend. But then what? One night and then she was right back where she was now.
Ginger picked up the invitation on the table. She fingered the embossed lettering. “Beautiful invitation.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Leigh said, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“His world must be very exciting in the city. These parties with fantastic people, dining with agents and editors...a totally different life, really.”
“Mmm-hmm,” was all she could think to reply.
“Are you planning to attend?”
“Every other thought—yes,” Leigh answered quietly, honestly.
“Then those are the thoughts you should listen to. Not the ones holding you back.” Her grandmother stood and sat on the arm of her chair. She wrapped an arm around her.
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I liked him just fine. More so after he saved my life, obviously.”
Leigh laughed. “Obviously.”
“I just wanted what was best for you,” Ginger said, handing her the invitation.
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