Haley rarely frequented Chautauqua anymore—the novelty of boating had long since worn off for her—and the nearby town was usually vacant this time of year, for most of its residents were well-off vacationers who migrated south for the winter. Chautauqua provided a milder summer escape from the humid Florida heat, as well as a perfect family vacation. Rustic hotels lined with rocking chair porches, boating excursions, and the ferry were just a few of the attractions that the picturesque village offered. She could remember a time when her father took her driving through perfectly manicured neighborhoods—another popular attraction for visitors, as the historical homes each demonstrated articulate design and beauty not found in modern home constructions. For six months out of the year Chautauqua resembled a wintry ghost town, but during the Ice Festival it came to life.
As the ushers were starting to gently nudge everyone out of the hall, Haley felt time’s prodding to make a move. “So I was thinking, we really should make a point to get together before then. I owe you something more than a bottle of water, right?”
Marc chuckled. “That’d be nice.”
The male-female dating debate ping-ponged in her head over how aggressive was too aggressive. If she didn’t ask, she’d never forgive herself. “You hungry?” She noticed him absently glance behind her before answering.
“You mean right now?”
“Yeah, unless you—”
“No, no. You wanna grab a bite?”
“Sure!” she answered with a little too much enthusiasm. There it was again—that swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
“Got any preference of where?”
As she was thinking about all the preferably romantic restaurants in the vicinity, her eyes caught her mother’s beckoning gesture from across the room. Gabrielle’s exaggerated wave gave Haley an idea. “Hey—would you want to join my mom and me at her house? I’m sure she’d love to have you over. And she’s a great cook.”
Though being alone with Marc was preferred, if anyone could charm a man, it was Haley’s mother. Gabrielle was irresistible in every sense of the word. When she hosted meals, she considered them family, if only for the afternoon. And she had an incredible knack for talking favors out of nearly anyone; before you knew it, you had agreed to her request but felt like she was doing you a service. It was that same charismatic appeal that drew people to her, and Haley hoped she could win a date using some of that on Marc.
“Uh-oh. You and your mom—a double-threat!” he teased while his hand touched her lower back to guide her along the stream of people leaving. The pressure of his fingers against her flesh sent a chill up her spine.
“I swear we’ll be good. She’s got a couple of her committee friends joining us, but I get lost in their talk about all the planning and boring stuff. It’d be great to have you as a buffer.”
“A buffer! Is that all I’m good for?”
“Actually, yes.”
“At least you’re honest. You lead the way, and I’ll follow.”
Chapter 21
Two hours later, Haley and Marc were finally alone in the breakfast nook away from the prying eyes of the committee ladies and Gabrielle, who shuffled around the kitchen cleaning up lunch leftovers from her multi-course meal for the roomful of guests. Babbling secondhand gossip resonated from the living room. Haley patted her stomach, full from an exquisite lunch that started off with a salad of fresh greens doused in hot bacon dressing. After salad, she wolfed down homemade macaroni salad, two varieties of Gabrielle’s tea-sized sandwiches, a bowlful of reheated homemade beef stew, and satisfied that last empty spot with homemade apple pie. It was good country eating at its best, and her diet was nowhere in sight. Haley was stuffed, and she knew her scale would later attest to that.
Leaning back in her chair, she had been trying to decipher Marc’s mannerisms all afternoon. Did he want to leave? Did she annoy him? She couldn’t tell, but he smiled a lot and made trite jokes, so she felt safe to assume he was enjoying himself.
“Does your mom usually feed your friends this well?” he asked after a pause in the conversation.
“Yeah, pretty much. I get spoiled regularly by her cooking.”
“It’s great that you spend time hanging out with her. A lot of people forget their roots as they get older. People lose sight of family, and it’s kind of sad to me.”
Yeah, Haley knew the feeling. None of her extended family stayed in touch anymore, with everyone scattered all over the nation. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll always be close to my mom. Heck, I couldn’t get rid of her even if I wanted to! But really, she’s pretty much my best friend. We have our moments, but definitely more good than bad.”
“So what was it like growing up on a farm with so much land? Because I grew up in the suburbs and I would have loved this… plenty of space to get into mischief for a boy.”
“Ha! I guess. But imagine having to harvest all this land! I think the luxury wears off pretty fast.”
“I suppose. But I like to work with my hands. And I love being outdoors. I think I could handle having a farm.”
“Well, maybe I’ll suggest that to my mom. She could always use more hands. Though let me warn you… once you offer to help her, you won’t get your freedom back.”
“So who would be my overseer? You or her?”
“Definitely her. Though I could always step in…” Haley gave Marc a playful wink.
“I better be on my best behavior then,” Marc said with a laugh.
“Lucky for you I don’t do much with the grapes anymore. Except eat them. If you’re lucky, I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines.”
“A cheer from you? I bet that’s worth more than a day’s wages.” He chuckled and wagged his eyebrows.
“Oh, you flatterer! Is that how you talk to all the ladies?”
He laughed.
“We should do this again sometime.”
Did that just come out? She couldn’t even believe it came out, because Haley made it a rule to never initiate anything with a guy. She broke her own cardinal rule—twice now with this guy. But they were having fun, and the conversation was going so well. The suggestion just kind of slipped out.
His answer didn’t come right away. Fear poured through her veins as the silence lengthened. The seconds felt like minutes. Afraid to meet his eyes, but needing some recognition that he had heard her, Haley glanced up. He was definitely surprised. Inside she panicked. What if he says no? What if he already has a girlfriend? Am I crazy, or even worse, desperate?
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” he finally responded. Then after a second, “What’s your schedule look like this week?”
Without hesitation, she sputtered, “Friday’s great for me. I mean, if it’s okay with you.” She felt her racing heart shift into a lower gear.
“Friday it is.”
He said yes! Dinner. Friday. Though she immediately regretted not suggesting tomorrow; Friday seemed like a long way off.
It took a moment for the reality of their date to settle in. She wasn’t expecting a yes. She hadn’t really meant it when she asked, had she? She just wanted to be friends, since they were getting along so well, right?
No, she knew what she was doing. Obviously she was attracted to him. Even her mother approved him. Gabrielle had whispered a “he seems nice” in Haley’s ear while they were clearing the table. Haley knew exactly what “nice” meant. He was cute, had a job, interesting, funny. He had all of those good, generic, surface qualities a girl looks for right away. But two brief encounters left a lot of unanswered questions between them. How would she know if he was the one? If he was the anonymous letter man, he was as close as she’d ever get to the perfect man.
She retracted the thought as quickly as it came, remembering the screenplay class that was supposed to lead to a future in a more glamorous place. She wasn’t supposed to be looking for commitment. Marc was just a friend. A handsome, magnetizing friend.
Her mother once told her that every relationship started small. Over the years
, Haley learned to look at the little things. The smile. The teasing. Even the polite way he treated Haley’s mother. Any guy could bring flowers and charm a woman, but not every guy could win the heart of a parent. But Marc had.
So, next Friday Haley would be dining with her new friend. She blushed as the word “date” flittered through her vocabulary, though she refused to call it that. An evening with a new pal. She couldn’t even recall a name or the face of her last non-date with a guy. Apparently it was forgettable. But she knew this Friday would be memorable.
Chapter 22
Haley Montgomery wasn’t onto him… yet. At least he hoped not. He knew that the moment she found out he was “watching her”—gently put—she would probably never speak to him again. So he had to tread carefully, and so far so good.
Allen didn’t know how she would feel when he confessed to secretly following her around town and looking up information about her. With a few clicks on the Internet, he knew her alma mater, her mother’s maiden name, her date of birth, and her current residence. Then there were all the personal little things he had found out through careful observation, like how fast she drove her car, how often she went to her mother’s house, and even about her new male friend Marc—a thought that had an acrid aftertaste.
But Allen was ready to woo and he was sure he’d win.
She probably wouldn’t appreciate it that he kept three or four candid snapshots of her in his wallet. But perhaps she would think it romantic that he, well, stalked her. Though “stalking” felt like such a harsh word. He preferred to call it “admiring her from afar.”
His neck relaxed against the cushion of his tan micro-fiber recliner, and his eyes scanned the textured ceiling as he formulated the words he would use when he told her everything tomorrow.
No, tomorrow was no good. They’d be in class with other students milling around. He wanted their conversation to be private. He wanted their conversation to be romantic. It would take planning. Candles. A crackling fire. Heck, he might even throw in strawberries and champagne. The whole shebang.
Every last detail had to be planned if he was going to win her heart. How he’d begin his admission was easy. He would start off by explaining that he cared about her, and he wasn’t in the habit of being creepy, but he thought about her constantly and he needed to see her. But he also didn’t want to come on too strong. So he watched her. That didn’t sound so bad. He just hoped she would forgive him when he got around to telling her. He hadn’t decided if he’d tell her about his past; heck, she’d probably hear it on the news sooner or later, so perhaps getting it out in the open before she heard it elsewhere would be best. Eventually she’d find out that his wife was missing, and that the police were pointing their fingers at him—but with no substantial evidence, mind you. But he could decide whether or not to tell her later. For now he needed to figure out how to get her alone.
With eight days to profess his love before his departure, time was against him. But then again, he was always up for a challenge. He’d learned that the harder the catch, the more bait was needed. Money, fame, success, opportunity—he had it all to offer. Everything a woman wanted he possessed, or had access to. Plus, he had already cast the biggest bait out to sea, a special opportunity that she certainly couldn’t turn down. But whether or not he hooked her with his offer to go to Los Angeles for a career move, he wouldn’t find out until the day he was scheduled to leave. By then it would be too late to do anything about it if his plan failed. Well, he couldn’t waste time worrying about it. All he had to do was find an opportunity to tell her the truth.
He checked the clock: 5:40 on a Friday night. He wondered if Haley was home. Or if she was at her mother’s house for dinner, as she usually was. Maybe he’d take a spin and clear his head. Perhaps he’d venture into Haley’s neighborhood just to see if anything was going on. Maybe pop in for a cup of coffee if he felt adventurous. Allen stood from his recliner, paced the few steps to the coat rack, and picked up his outerwear dangling from the wooden peg. He held it by the collar, then shook his head and returned it to the peg. He traipsed sullenly to his chair, plopped back in, and squeezed his eyes shut. Scolding himself for being a coward, Allen hoped his self-berating would ignite a flame of assurance. If he couldn’t even find the nerve to stop by her house for a visit, how could he ever tell her he loved her?
Chapter 23
Entry 6948
I had a dream last night. In it I had a choice to make. Two doors stood before me. I opened the one and sunlight poured all over me and I smelled the salty scent of ocean. Somehow I know it was California. I heard Allen Michaels calling my name and fans cheering. It was exhilarating. I closed that door and opened the second. Behind that door I saw Marc and two children—I can only assume they were mine since they kept calling me “Mommy.” It was a simple scene, no fanfare, no energy. Just love. I closed that door. And there I stood, staring at the two doors—two choices—knowing that I could only walk through one. Is that a sign of what’s to come? Am I going to have to pick between love and my career? The thought terrifies me, because without love I have nothing, but without my writing I am nothing. What’s worse? I can only hope it’s just a dream.
Haley finished the final touches of her makeup as she sang along with Aretha Franklin. Smoothing her modest, black dress, she stood before the mirror to get a view from all angles. She had put on a few pounds since purchasing it, but hoped it didn’t show through the folds of silky cloth. Small silver hoops hung from her ears, and a matching necklace adorned her creamy white neck.
Despite anticipating an awkward “is he your boyfriend yet?” conversation, earlier that morning Haley had informed her mother about her dinner date with Marc as she sought advice on what to wear. The expected slew of questions rushed forth, and Haley sweetly but sternly dismissed them. Haley still wasn’t sure where the relationship was going, and she didn’t need to build it up more than it really was. It was a simple thank-you dinner for his work on the computer… at least that was her reasoning. But did she believe that? No.
Analyzing her appearance, she hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. Was a dress too fancy? Were jeans too informal? She finally settled on this number, since it was comfortable, classy, and plain enough to be casual. The v-neck was conservative, yet fashionable, and the sleeves came to the middle of her forearm. The soft fabric fell at her knees and complemented certain features she didn’t mind showing off—like her curvy rear—and hid all the rest.
Her stomach swelled with nervous excitement. She kept reminding herself that it was just dinner. Not even an official date, really. A casual meal of chicken Parmesan, roasted red potatoes, and buttered homegrown green beans. She used her mother’s apple pie recipe for dessert. Nothing to brag about to Rachael Ray, but a home-cooked meal nonetheless, which Marc seemed thrilled about when she talked to him on the phone the day before. A novice in the kitchen, Haley had fumbled through her cookbook that morning searching for a simple recipe she could manage. Anything chicken and nothing requiring heavy handling of knives. If it was up to her, Thai takeout or subs fit any occasion, but for company she’d bring out the china and silverware.
As she belted out one last musical note, slightly off-key, the doorbell chimed in. She glanced at her bedside clock—5:50. He was early. Running her fingers through her loosely curled, dark hair one last time, she clicked off the clock radio and rushed downstairs to the front door. Opening it, she found Marc standing there handsomely dressed, with his hands behind his back. When he pulled his arms forward, he held a mixed wildflower bouquet.
“I figured it’s only polite that I bring flowers or wine, and since I don’t drink wine, I thought these were appropriate,” he said, grinning.
“Oh my! Thanks so much, Marc!” She examined the bouquet for a card attached to one of those long, plastic sticks, but found none.
“You look nice,” Marc said with a wink.
“Thank you. So do you.”
“I know this is just a friendly dinner,
but it’s been a while since I’ve had dinner with anyone, so I wasn’t sure what the appropriate dress code was.”
His smile drew her focus to his handsome features. Looking him up and down, Haley admired his taste. Loose-fitting khaki pants and a striped long-sleeved collared shirt beneath a leather jacket. She could smell the leather as he slipped off his jacket.
“Me too, for that matter. And these flowers are simply amazing. You shouldn’t have,” she said, not really meaning it. She had hoped he’d bring flowers. And a card. That usually meant a guy was serious. One out of two wasn’t bad.
She hung the coat in the coat closet and ambled into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. She could feel his gaze from the entry where he stood, and she purposefully swayed her hips as she checked each cabinet for a vase. Returning to where Marc waited for her, she placed the flowers on the dining room table and led him by hand into the living room where a tray of cheese and crackers awaited them. The “hors d’oeuvres” were in case dinner ended up unpalatable.
Marc offered a few complimentary comments about her decorating taste, and she sheepishly waved him off, claiming it was nothing more than a thrown together attempt to fill four walls. It wasn’t true, of course. She had fussed over every last detail from the color and texture of the throw blankets to the framed pictures on the walls—pictures she had taken of Westfield scenery. But for some reason it seemed more humble, or less materialistic, to act like she hadn’t even noticed her own decorations until he pointed them out.
Haley suddenly remembered her manners.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Haley offered. Then she added, “Bottled water, perhaps?”
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