“I wish I could’ve met him.”
“So do I.” He smoothed my hair away from my face. “The two of you would’ve had a lot in common. He was quiet and contemplative, much like you, and the world was a better place because he was in it. My world was a better place because he was in it. Both of you have a positive effect on people.”
He hugged me tightly a moment more, and then he released me. “Let’s look at his books.”
Stone walked to the tall bookshelf in the corner of the room. Rows of books were neatly arranged on the shelves.
“Can we touch them?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
He had a lot of classics, like Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, and Dracula by Bram Stoker. There were also many contemporary novels, but to kick off the book club, it seemed appropriate to start with a classic. I assumed that there were probably a lot of people like me, people who wanted to read them, but just never seemed to do it. Some of the classics might even be on Quail Mountain High’s summer reading list.
I carefully eyed each and every book, noting their colors and textures. Finally, I placed my finger on a copy of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. I carefully pulled the book from its resting spot.
“Frankenstein,” Stone read.
“What do you think about starting the club with it?” I asked.
“Pick whatever you want. I’m leaving it up to you. Just as long as I don’t have to read it.”
I scoffed. “How can you not read the first book in Luke’s Book Club?”
“Trust me, Luke would forgive me for that one. He knew how much I hated to read. I’ll watch the movie.”
“You’ll do no such thing, at least not until after you’ve read the book.”
Stone took the book from me and flipped through the pages. “I tell you what. I’ll let you read it to me. How’s that?”
“It won’t be the same as if you’d read it yourself.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, handing me the book. “It’ll be much, much better. I can watch your sexy, pink lips while you read the words in your silky, feminine voice. Now that,” he said, pointing at me, “would never be boring. You could read me a sewing machine manual for all I care, as long as I get to watch those lips in action.”
“If you want to watch these lips in action, then you’d better read the book,” I warned playfully.
“We’ll see,” he said, turning to the bookshelf. “So is that the book you want, or do you want to keep looking?”
“Let’s start with this one,” I said, fingering the embossed, gilt lettering on the burgundy cover.
“Frankenstein it is.”
I followed him to the door and turned to glance around the room one more time before I exited into the hallway. I hugged the book to my chest, honored that I’d gotten to peek into Luke’s existence. The book was a tangible symbol of him, and I felt that by allowing me into Luke’s room, Stone had also allowed me a little deeper into his heart, that he had offered me a tiny sliver of his soul that had remain untouched.
As we settled on Stone’s bed to read, I thought perhaps I was closer to him right now at this moment than I had ever been.
I flipped open the cover and turned to the first page, thinking that Luke had touched these very pages, read these very words, and filled with emotion, I began to read Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.
“Letter 1. To Mrs. Saville, England, St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17--.
“You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.”
Chapter 3
Stone
Shit. The alarm on my phone alerted me to the fact that it was seven o’clock on Saturday morning. I struggled to shut it the hell up before I had the urge to sling the annoying device across the room. As exhausting as the previous week had been, I still had a huge to-do list looming over me. Prom was next weekend. Final exams were the week after that, and I desperately needed to study if I wanted to walk across the stage at the graduation ceremony, which was less than a month away. And on top of that, I had vowed to myself that I would find Dara’s mother in time to ensure that she would be in the audience watching Dara get her diploma.
I rolled my sleep-deprived body out of bed and stumbled to the shower. Relieved that the hot water seemed to improve my mood, I quickly toweled off and dressed. Sitting at the desk in my room, I flipped open my laptop and pulled a folded piece of paper out of the middle drawer. Over the last few days, I had written everything down that I knew about Dara’s mother, and I had gleaned additional information from Dara as discreetly as possible. I wasn’t ready to tell her that I was going to try and find her mom, mostly because I didn’t want Dara to be disappointed if I failed or if her mother had decided that she didn’t want to be in Dara’s life.
As I unfolded the paper, every detail that I had written about Yvonne Golding over the last few days came into view. Dara didn’t know her mother’s address, but she knew she lived in a small town in East Tennessee by the name of Oakley, and she knew she worked at the front desk of a hotel.
I couldn’t retrieve any information on Yvonne Golding in Oakley, Tennessee, so I searched the Internet for hotels in Oakley and printed out a list of eleven hotels with addresses and phone numbers.
Since Ms. Golding’s number had been disconnected, the only thing I could do at this point was to start calling the hotels to see if I could figure out where she was employed.
I dialed the number to the first one on the list and was promptly told that they did not have an employee by that name. Five hotels later, I still didn’t have a hit.
By the time I had crossed ten of them off my list, tension began building in my neck as I stared at the last phone number. Either I was about to locate her employer or I was about to be shit out of luck. I knew very little about Dara’s mother. She could’ve changed jobs multiple times since she last worked at the hotel, or she could’ve just upped and quit. She could’ve moved. She could be shacking up with a boyfriend. The endless possibilities made finding her a daunting task.
I wiped my palms on my jeans as I began dialing the last number. Like the other hotels, someone answered quickly.
“Do you have an employee by the name of Yvonne Golding?”
“Uh…I’m new. Hold on, and I’ll check.”
My heart was thudding in my ears louder and louder as each second ticked by. After what seemed like an eternity, the girl on the other end of the line finally picked back up. “Sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”
“Okay. Thanks for checking.” I hung up, aggravated. Trying to determine my next move, I ran my hands through my hair and exhaled loudly.
I didn’t have much to go on. I searched for hotels again, but I didn’t come up with any new information. I mapped out the distance between Quail Mountain and Oakley, a four-hour drive. I groaned as I realized that would be an eight-hour round trip, not including the time I would need to poke around the town.
I thought about all the things that I needed to do today, and the time it would take to hunt her mother would force me to push most of my list to the backburner. An involuntary grin erupted across my face as I thought about me having a list, even if it was only mental. A year ago, I wouldn’t have bothered. I would’ve done whatever random act occurred to me at the moment, and it would’ve been tough shit for anyone else who needed something from me.
A lot had changed since I met Dara, and guilt slithered into my brain when I thought about how I blew her off when she wanted me to help her find a prom dress, even if it was because I wanted to find her mother.
Damn it. Thinking that I should call her, I stared at my phone lying on the desk. If I was going to locate her mother before graduation, I needed to allow myself as much time as possible to deal with any unforeseen circumstances or a lack of success. But at the same time, it was our senior prom, and I knew it meant a lot
to Dara.
Well, hell. I’d just experienced that awkward moment when I realized that I had definitely been whipped by a tiny female with a soft voice and a good heart. She was more than I deserved, and I picked up my phone and dialed her number.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Good morning. You got a busy day scheduled?”
“Actually, I do,” I answered. “It seems you’ve had a stroke of good luck. My errands have been postponed, and I’m now available for the day.”
“Lucky me,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.
I ignored her jab. “Were you going shopping with Crimson and Scarlet?”
“No. They’re busy at the salon today. I was gonna go by myself.”
I was glad I’d had a change of heart, for her sake. “Why don’t I pick you up at noon? I’ll drive Mom’s or Dad’s car, unless you want to carry your new prom dress on the back of a motorcycle.”
She laughed, and even though scouring the area for a prom dress was definitely not my first choice of things to do, I was looking forward to spending time with her.
“Assuming I get lucky enough to find a prom dress I like that doesn’t need alterations, I don’t think I want to chance it on the back of a motorcycle.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll see you at noon.”
“See you then. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hung up, glad that I had decided to go and wondering how the hell I was going to get things with her mother worked out. I could drive to Oakley tomorrow, which meant I needed to come up with a game plan tonight.
I sighed, yanking my backpack up from the floor. If I wanted to make the best use of my time, then I needed to get some studying done, so that I wouldn’t have to repeat another year of high school and so my dad could get the hell off my back. That man was relentless when it came to school.
I pulled out my chemistry book and flipped it open to the periodic table, memorizing as much of the information as possible. Boredom quickly set in, and shopping for prom dresses began looking a lot more fun, at least that would include Dara in some sexy outfits.
I was pretty damn proud of myself when I finally quit studying. I checked the time on my cell phone and was surprised to find it was nearing eleven o’clock. I’d just set a freaking record on the amount of studying I’d accomplished in one sitting, ever. I leaned back and stretched my arms, allowing myself to savor the victory because it was a record that I had no intention of breaking.
I put on my socks and shoes and went to find Dad.
I opened the door to the fitness room in our basement and saw Dad curling a dumbbell. “Hey, Dad.”
He looked up. “Stone.”
“I was wondering if I could borrow your car.”
“It’s not raining. What’s wrong with your motorcycle?”
“I’m taking Dara to shop for a prom dress.”
He moved the dumbbell to his other hand and began curling again. “How’s school going?”
“I just spent about three hours studying for my chemistry exam.”
His eyes opened a little wider, and I knew that sentence would be at the top of his things-I-never-expected-my-son-to-say list.
“In that case, my keys are on the coffee table. Return it in the same condition in which you found it.”
“Deal. Thanks, Dad.”
“And don’t get too used to it,” he added, after I had turned around.
I spun around and looked at him, grinning. “You, either,” I said, referring to the fact that I had just voluntarily studied for the last three hours.
“I tell you what,” he said, pumping the dumbbell. “I’ll let you borrow it on prom night if you promise me that you’ll study and pass your exams.”
I usually performed well on tests even though I didn’t study; although, I did need to make sure my test scores were high enough to dilute the effect of a few missed assignments. Why the hell not? If I could force myself to study for three hours nonstop, I could manage to sneak in enough studying to perform well on my tests.
“You just got yourself another deal,” I told Dad, hoping that he would lighten up on his badgering if he thought I would study on my own.
“Good. I’m holding you to it,” he said.
I nodded my head in understanding and turned to scurry up the basement steps. When I reached the living room, I snatched the keys to my dad’s black sports car from the coffee table and went to pick up Dara.
She answered the front door in a pair of blue jeans just tight enough to show off her curves and a pale pink, snug-fitting knit shirt, which matched her lips. Her golden hair hung in soft curls, just past her shoulders.
The faint scent of her cologne wafted through the air.
“Damn, you look beautiful,” I whispered as she rose up on her tiptoes to meet my lips.
“Thank you.”
I took her by the elbow before she could turn toward the car. “Thank you? Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to say that I’m beautiful, too, or better yet, that I’m a sexy beast?”
“You’re right,” she said, smiling. “I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I’m a sexy beast. Now can we go?”
I pointed my finger at her. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Am I?” she asked in a higher pitch than normal as she pressed her splayed fingers against her chest.
“Damn straight.”
She giggled as she strolled to the passenger side door. I followed her and opened her door, waiting for her to get in.
I closed her door and hurried to the driver’s side. “So where to?” I asked as I slid behind the wheel.
“Well, there’s one shop on Quail Mountain and one in the valley. Which one do you want to go to first?” she asked.
“Let’s start on the mountain.”
I drove up the mountain and pulled into the parking lot of the only store that sold formal attire on Quail Mountain. My mother shopped here for all of her formal events, and she had purchased a black tux for me a few months back for her Christmas party.
When we entered the building, an impeccably-dressed, young woman met us and offered her assistance.
“I’m looking for a prom dress,” Dara said.
The woman smiled and pointed us to the front corner of the store. “I’ll let you look around. Just let me know if you need any help.”
“Thank you,” I said, pressing my palm against the small of Dara’s back and urging her in that direction.
The store catered to the wealthy and offered a vast selection of wedding gowns, formal dresses, prom gowns, and tuxes, and that’s not even mentioning the accessories.
When we reached the large section that boasted rows and rows of prom gowns, I took a seat on an elegant sofa and waited for Dara to browse.
“Aren’t you going to help me?” she asked.
“Prom is going to be your night, Dara. I want you to pick the dress that you want. I’ve already told you that you’ll be beautiful to me no matter what dress you’re wearing.”
“I want it to be our night,” she responded.
“Okay. You pick a few that you like, and I’ll help you decide on the final dress. Fair enough?”
“I guess so,” she said, turning toward the rows of dresses in a myriad of colors with sequins and tulle and all the other shit that transformed teenage girls into princesses.
I closed my eyes, thinking that this could take a while and it might be a good time for a nap, but a couple of minutes later, I felt her tapping on my arm.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, opening my eyes to see her standing in front of me with absolutely no dresses in her hands.
“They’re really expensive,” she whispered, sitting beside me.
“What kind of price range were you looking for?” I asked, thinking I could help her pay for it but knowing she probably wouldn’t let me.
“Mr. Milton gave me six hundred dollars to cover the cost of the dress, alterations, shoes, everything.”
“Surely they have some dresses that fall into that price range.”
“Oh, they do,” she said, “but they’re still kind of pricey. I was hoping I could spend about half of that and return the other half to Mr. Milton.”
That was my girl, always thinking about everyone else.
“Do you think the other store would be any cheaper?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders, having never priced prom dresses in my life. The only thing that would make me think the other store might be less expensive would be that this store serviced the wealthy families that lived on the upper half of Quail Mountain, the ones with brow lots and weekend parties, the people like my parents.
“Maybe,” I said. “We could go look.”
“Let me ask the girl if they have a sales rack,” she suggested. “If they don’t, then let’s try the other store.”
“Okay.” I followed her back to the entrance.
“Did you find anything you liked?” the sales girl asked Dara.
“I did, but I was wondering if you might have a sales rack that I could look at it,” Dara asked meekly. “I’m trying not to spend too much.”
The girl pasted a bright smile on her face and pointed to the back corner of the building. “Sure. Back in the corner is our clearance room. Most of the dresses are last year’s styles, discontinued, or slightly damaged, so I suggest you try the dresses on and look them over carefully because all sales are final.”
“Okay,” Dara said. “Thank you.”
Dara slipped her hand in mine and pulled me in that direction. “I hope I can find something.”
I couldn’t help but smile. My mother probably didn’t even know they had a clearance room.
Lucky for me, they had several chairs lined up along the wall, and I sat down while Dara headed to the dresses. My mind drifted to the seemingly impossible task of finding her mother. I needed to come up with a plan, but I was unsure of how to go about it.
And part of me wondered if Dara would be better off if her mother did just drop out of her life for good.
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