Holiday Fantasy

by Adrianne Byrd

  As Andrea looked ahead again, she saw something dart before her car.

  Startled, she swerved to miss it. Her car started to skid, spinning out of control. She yanked on the steering wheel, trying desperately to correct its direction.

  The car kept skidding, like there was a patch of ice under the snow, and Andrea had no control of the car. She was heading straight for the side of the road, and the overpass.

  She hit the brakes, but the car didn’t stop. The next thing she knew, the car was crashing through the guardrail and flying in the air.

  “God help me,” she cried out.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 3

  Mark was finding it hard to concentrate on the presentation about using the Internet effectively to enhance a company’s sales. His brain was preoccupied with thoughts of Andrea, though he wasn’t sure why.

  After she had rejected him ten years ago—then had refused to take any of his calls—he had vowed to move on with his life and forget her. But seeing her yesterday brought everything back. How he had been smitten with her instantly. His foolish dreams of happily ever after with her. Oh, how young and naïve he had been. In his heart, he truly believed that his love for Andrea would overcome all odds—even her parents’ staunch disapproval of their dating. He had met them, tried his hardest to impress them, but all in vain. They hadn’t thought him good enough to date their daughter, and Andrea had eventually caved under their pressure.

  Frowning, Mark looked up as the conference room lights dimmed. A colorful graph appeared on a screen. Pay attention, he told himself. Yet still he couldn’t.

  It had taken him years to forgive Andrea for her rejection, yet seeing her again, the pain was suddenly fresh. She didn’t know it, but her dumping him—because of her family’s disapproval—was the catalyst for his drive to become a huge success. He wanted to prove to the world that he wasn’t inferior to anyone. And a part of him had always hoped the day would come when he could show Andrea just how far he’d come.

  That day had come, of course. But Mark was a man now, one who knew he didn’t have to prove his worth to anybody. The truth was, he simply wanted to talk to Andrea. Even after all this time, there were questions he wanted answered.

  He wondered what she was doing right now.

  Mark’s cell phone vibrated on his waist, giving him the perfect excuse to leave the conference room. He quietly walked out and pulled his phone from his waistband. “Potter here.”

  “Mark?”

  Mark’s stomach sank at the sound of Cynthia Nichol’s voice on the other end of the line. Her tone was high-pitched, vulnerable. She was good at playing the victim.

  “Cynthia, make it quick. I’m very busy.”

  Her exaggerated sigh reverberated through the phone line. “Why do you always talk to me like you can’t stand hearing from me?” she asked. “Didn’t I mean anything to you?”

  Mark didn’t have time for this. But he had to be careful how he dealt with Cynthia. She was the type to call back over and over until she felt she’d been heard.

  “I’m sorry if I was abrupt,” Mark said. “But I’m out-of-town right now, at a conference.”

  “Oh, I should have known. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that…I miss you. We haven’t seen each other in God knows how long, and I just want to spend some time with you. What are you doing this weekend? Say, Sunday?”

  Mark rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. What planet was she from, anyway? He hadn’t seen her in months, not since he’d found her rifling through his wallet. But she conveniently seemed to have forgotten that fact. “I’m busy this weekend.”

  “Oh, come on. You must be able to spare some time on Sunday evening. I was planning a romantic, candlelight dinner. And we can drink champagne in the hot tub, just like we used to…”

  Cynthia’s gall never failed to amaze him. Did she figure he was so hard up for a woman’s affections that he’d forget she was after only one thing? He may have been blind before, but he knew her now. She didn’t want him. She wanted his money. How had he ever thought he was attracted to her?

  “Cynthia,” he said gently. “I can’t make it. And you know why.”

  “Please, Mark. Don’t start that again.”

  “I think I’ve been more than patient with you. In fact, probably too patient. But don’t misread my intentions. Our relationship is over. You need to accept that.”

  “Why are you so mad at me? I told you that you misunderstood what you saw. Why can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”

  Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who’d been deceived. “I know what I saw.”

  Tension-filled silence hung in the air. “Fine,” Cynthia finally said. “There’s no pleasing you. Call me when you’re ready to see things from someone else’s perspective.”

  “Thank God,” Mark said aloud when she hung up the phone. He hoped that this time Cynthia had finally gotten the message. But he wouldn’t hold his breath. Somehow, she always found a reason to call him.

  She was a prime example of the kind of women he met these days: a golddigger. A woman who wanted the finer things in life but didn’t want to work for them. Well, after busting his butt to build Creative Image Advertising from the ground up, he wasn’t about to be any woman’s meal ticket.

  In fact, since his seven-month relationship with Andrea ended bitterly ten years earlier, Mark had not had another serious relationship. The women he’d met in college didn’t seem to know what they wanted from life, and the women he’d met since he started his business seemed only to want a sugar daddy.

  Before his mother died, she used to say that he was too picky. Mark frowned. Maybe she was right. He didn’t know why, but he managed to find fault with even the most attractive women he dated.

  Maybe, he acknowledged, he just didn’t want another woman to stomp all over his heart—like Andrea had.

  Man, what was wrong with him? Just thinking of Andrea now had his pulse racing. He could dismiss it as a case of nerves, but deep down he knew it was more than that. The moment he saw her, his body came alive with a purely macho reaction to her delicate femininity.

  She was the only woman who had ever gotten to him in quite that way. He had to get in touch with her. He had a late flight back to Chicago, and wanted to talk to her before he left, perhaps even spend some time with her this evening.

  Ever since he had run into her again, she had dominated his thoughts. He didn’t like the way she had dismissed his suggestion that they get together. But he was a man now, not a teenager who would take no for an answer. He shouldn’t have let her walk out of his life without a fight then, and he sure wouldn’t walk away without the chance to talk to her now.

  Mark dialed information on his phone.

  Less than a minute later, he had the number for Mama’s Place. He punched in the number to the restaurant.

  “Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Mama’s Place.”

  “Um, hi,” Mark began cautiously. “I’m trying to reach one of your waitresses. Andrea Dawson.”

  “Andrea’s not due in until five o’clock.”

  “Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll call back.”

  “Can I take a message for her?”

  “No, that’s all right. No message. I’ll just…call back.”

  Mark ended the call and headed back to the conference room. He took a seat at the back and listened as the speaker talked about how his company had grown substantially once he’d really invested in Internet advertising.

  This was Mark’s second time attending the Young Entrepreneurs Conference in Buffalo. He believed in supporting black entrepreneurs and sharing knowledge, as well as making contacts while he was here.

  That’s what he should have been thinking about. That, or the Campelli ad campaign on which he was currently working. The Campellis ran a mom and pop chain of grocery stores in Illinois, and were trying to grow their customer base with a hip new ad campaign.

  Instead of thin
king about business, however, Mark was thinking of how he would head to Mama’s Place later and surprise Andrea with a visit.

  Maybe I’m an idiot, Mark thought. What else would explain the fact that instead of thinking of the Campelli ad campaign—which is what he should have been doing in his spare time—he was driving to Mama’s Place, hoping to see Andrea.

  Worse still, he was hoping to see Andrea even though her reaction to seeing him yesterday had definitely been wary. There had been no doubt in his mind that she’d been uncomfortable seeing him again, something that went beyond surprise, as far as he was concerned.

  He had a flight later tonight. He had his own life to which to get back. Maybe he should just get on the plane and walk away from Andrea again, the way she had done ten years ago.

  Mark glanced out the window of his rented Grand Am. A thick layer of snow had blanketed the area overnight, making the drive slow. It was hampered even more by the fact that it was still snowing. It was certainly a beautiful view, one that made him think of Christmas. Christmas was a nostalgic time of year for Mark—both happy and sad. Happy because of the memories of his parents, but sad because he’d lost them both within a year. His father to a heart attack, and then his mother in a tragic car accident.

  This was a time of year for family. He had always wanted one of his own, more so now that he didn’t have his parents anymore. Seeing Andrea again reminded him of the dreams he’d had about the two of them. One more reason why he knew he couldn’t head back to Chicago without the chance to sit down and talk to her.

  He drove past the airport, past the gas station at the corner, and then, his heart hammering in his chest, turned left into the parking lot of Mama’s Place.

  Mark felt unexpected butterflies as he stepped inside the restaurant. His eyes did a quick sweep of the place. It was packed, and filled with chatter. There were workers whizzing around, but he didn’t see Andrea.

  A woman with a harried expression rushed toward the front. “Hi,” she said, offering him a half smile. “Table for one?”

  “Yeah,” Mark replied. “But I’d like to sit in Andrea Dawson’s section.”

  “Andrea? Oh, she’s not in tonight.”

  Mark frowned. “I called earlier. I was told she started at five.”

  “She was supposed to, but she didn’t show up.”

  “She didn’t? Is she sick?”

  “How should I know?” the woman replied somewhat testily. “She didn’t even call, and we’re busier than usual tonight. Even I’ve had to help the waitstaff to pick up the slack.” The hostess made no attempt to hide her annoyance.

  “I see,” Mark said, disappointment swirling inside. “I was really hoping to see Andrea.”

  The hostess glanced behind Mark’s shoulder, and he quickly whipped his head around. A man and woman, arms linked, stood behind him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, quickly stepping aside. “You go ahead.”

  As he watched the hostess lead the couple to a table, Mark debated what to do. He was hungry, but the reason he had come was to see Andrea.

  Before the hostess could return, Mark slipped out of the restaurant. He would order room service back at the hotel.

  Andrea’s eyes opened instantly. Panicked, she glanced around in the darkness, and saw immediately that she was in her car. The memory of how and why suddenly came back to her.

  She wasn’t sure how many days it was now that she’d been stuck here. She only knew that she had far less energy now, and she was thankful to have slept as much as she did. Sleep gave her relief from the pain, the hunger, and her thirst.

  Through it all, though, she kept saying silent prayers. She would not let despair get to her. Despair would not help her get through this ordeal.

  “Mark,” she whispered. He was back home now, and Andrea felt a pang of regret. Would it have hurt to have sat down and chatted with him, to act like an adult who had her life together? Now, she would probably never see him again. No matter how hopeful she was trying to be, she had to accept that she might not make it out alive.

  The saying that you shouldn’t put off for tomorrow what you can do today was so true.

  “If only I’d taken the time to talk to him…”

  She thought back to a happier time in her life—a time when she had been hopelessly in love with Mark Potter. She had been a sophomore and he’d been a senior at their respective high schools. Like it was yesterday, she could remember the first time she’d met him. She had gone to one of his high school football games with her girlfriend, Maggie, because Maggie had wanted to see Tom Stoddard, the new love of her life. Once there, Maggie had disappeared with Tom, leaving Andrea to fend for herself. Bored out of her mind and with nothing better to do, she watched the game with the hundreds of other spectators. But she hadn’t really been interested, not until she’d noticed a certain football player on the field.

  Magic was the only way to describe what had happened. As she’d looked down on the field, he’d looked up at her, and their eyes met. Instantly, there was a spark between them, something that made her stop and stare. He had stopped and stared, too—so much so that he’d missed a ball he should have easily caught. Knowing he had missed the ball because of her, Andrea giggled. She’d never distracted a guy like that before, and it was a nice feeling. Even as Mark had retreated to the sidelines, he’d held her gaze and flashed the sexiest smile she had ever seen. From that moment on, Andrea had been hooked.

  They met after the game, and it was clear they both liked each other. It didn’t take long for Andrea to realize that he was a special kind of guy. Most other guys at her preppy private school had wanted to date her for one thing only: her body. But Mark had been different. Sweet and gentle and totally sincere. She had been so happy with him.

  Perhaps too happy. She had been caught up in her first love and could think of nothing else. She knew nothing of the conflicts and pressures of being from two different worlds. Foolishly, she believed that they would get married when she turned eighteen and live happily ever after.

  “Mark.” His name fell from her lips on a sigh. To this day, she regretted what had happened between them. Her parents had opposed their dating, and Andrea had eventually given in to their pressure. She ended her and Mark’s seven-month relationship with cruel words about how she just didn’t love him, and she knew she had hurt him beyond repair.

  Andrea’s head throbbed from thinking about Mark. She wished she could turn back the clock. She wished she hadn’t caved to her parents’ pressure. They had acted like they were better than the Potters just because they had more money, and now her parents were the ones living a modest life.

  They still had some small savings, and on more than one occasion they’d offered to help her out financially so that she didn’t have to work so hard to pay her tuition and rent. If she accepted a loan from them, she could devote all her energy to making her dream of owning a business a reality.

  But if she did that, she would also be admitting that she couldn’t make it on her own, something her mother had angrily told her after she’d gotten pregnant with Terrence. Even though her parents had grown to love Terrence dearly, they had never forgiven her for getting pregnant, especially before she finished her degree. Despite the heartache she had experienced after getting pregnant and dropping out of Princeton, however, she was certainly happier than she had ever been. And that happiness was because of what that small boy, who needed her so much, brought to her life every time she looked at his innocent face.

  No, Andrea knew she would never take money from her parents.

  She would make it on her own. She was a fighter.

  That’s right. You’re a fighter. You’ll get out of this, too. You need to get out of this for Terrence.

  She would tell herself that as many times as she needed, to sustain her will to survive.

  She would cling to the hope that she would see her precious son again, sooner rather than later.

  Chapter 4

  Mark st
ood at the back of the car, the trunk open, his luggage still on the parking lot floor.

  Something was preventing him from loading his luggage into the trunk. The overwhelming feeling that something was wrong.

  He couldn’t pinpoint the feeling exactly, except that it was a mix of fear and anxiety deep in his gut, much like he’d felt the day his mother had died.

  He knew it had to do with Andrea.

  He still hadn’t been able to reach her, and he was worried about her.

  “She was sick,” he told himself. “She didn’t show for work. No big deal.”

  And he had a plane to catch. He certainly couldn’t stick around just because he hadn’t been able to spend more time with the woman who had broken his heart.

  Still, as he lifted his suitcase into the trunk, something was nagging at him. The feeling that he shouldn’t get in the car and drive away.

  But he had a schedule. He had to get to the airport now if he was going to catch his plane on time. Tomorrow, he had an early meeting in the office regarding the Campelli campaign.

  He had to get going.

  He glanced around as he put on his coat, as if the empty underground parking garage could give him any answers.

  Mark slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car.

  At the airport, Mark called the restaurant again. He had a sinking feeling again when the manager told him that Andrea still hadn’t shown up.

  “Has she ever done this before—not shown up?” Mark had to know.

  “Never,” the manager replied. “And she won’t do it again, I can tell you that much.”

  Mark ended the call, then leaned against one of the airport’s floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Why did he feel so strongly that something was wrong?

  He didn’t know, but he suddenly knew that he couldn’t get on a plane. Not yet. That meant he would miss tomorrow’s meeting, but Michael, Greg, and Robert could handle it without him.

  They would have to.

  He simply couldn’t go back to Chicago until he located Andrea and knew that she was okay.