by Loree Lough
Reaching across the console, he grasped Whitney’s hand. “I know I wasn’t the best company tonight, and when I get back, you can arrange dinner with the new partner and his wife. Someplace nice. My treat.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “Sound good?”
She returned the squeeze. “I can’t very well turn down a deal like that, can I?” Grinning, she added, “Not without sounding spoiled, anyway.”
“Very funny,” he said, winking again.
It wasn’t in her wheelhouse to crack jokes, and he appreciated her effort to lighten the mood.
“Did the show send your schedule?”
The producers from the shopping network had always made sure he knew well in advance what time he’d be on-air. And Whitney was aware of this, too.
“Yup.”
“When you get a minute, will you take a screenshot of it, so I’ll know when it’s okay to call? I’d hate to interrupt you while you’re in the middle of describing one of your mom’s crafts.”
During his trip a few weeks earlier, she’d called and texted a dozen times a day. Called at night, too. And once, his cell phone had buzzed while he was on-air during the Father’s Day specials—loudly enough that the mic picked it up. His own fault. He should have left it in the dressing room.
“’Course.”
“You’ll call every day?”
“Sure.”
An odd thought popped into his head. She hadn’t been clingy or possessive before meeting Lillie. She’d even started referring to his past as “the Lillie years.” He’d assure her that things had ended between him and Lillie a long time ago...except, he wasn’t sure that was the truth. Or that he wanted it to be the truth.
“Good. Because I’ll miss you.”
“Me, too.”
“I don’t know why, but it always seems you’re gone for weeks, instead of a few days.”
Always? He’d gone to Florida only two other times since they’d met. But he’d been quiet and standoffish all night. What could it hurt to say something nice?
“Since you’re like a human World Clock, maybe you can be my wake-up call every morning.”
“Give me a minute to collect myself,” she said. “I don’t want to appear overeager. What would my fellow feminists say if they heard me gushing like a schoolgirl at the chance to rouse her boyfriend while he’s on a business trip?”
Boyfriend. Jase didn’t know how he felt about that.
“Fellow feminists,” he said. “Is that an oxymoron?”
She laughed. His mother may just have been right when she’d said that Whitney could be good for him...if he’d let her.
Jase nodded and smiled, smiled and nodded as she talked about the movie’s plot, the weather, the legal brief she needed to finesse for a pretrial hearing in the morning.
“Are you sure you can’t come in?” she asked, leaning into him.
“I’m sure. I need to get home, throw a few things in a bag. Besides, you have that brief to work on.”
Hands on his shoulders, Whitney kissed him, slowly, longingly. He waited for the weak-in-the-knees, heart-pounding reaction his mother had described. When it didn’t happen, Jase blamed himself. Maybe if he put a little more into it...
Still nothing.
“Drive safely,” she said when it ended, “and pack some immune boosters. You don’t want to catch a cold, breathing that recirculated air on the plane. Not a good idea to drink coffee or tea, or let the flight attendant put ice in your drink. I read an article that said there are swarms of bacteria in the water system and the ice maker.”
Jase chuckled quietly. “Swarms, huh?”
“Hordes, even!”
“It’s sweet of you to be so concerned about my health.”
“Completely self-centered,” she said, smiling prettily. “I want you coming back to me hale and hearty.”
She cared about him, and he’d done nothing to earn it. It was time to leave Lillie in the past, and let this relationship take its course. Whitney deserved that, at the very least.
* * *
“MR. YEAGER,” THE flight attendant said, “it’s good to see you again so soon!”
“Good to see you, too, Gloria.” He’d made this same flight between Baltimore and Miami and back again dozens of times, and knew the flight crew by name.
The woman in line ahead of him turned and said to her husband, “Oh my goodness, Fred, it’s Jase Yeager, from the TV shopping club!”
Fred gave a half-hearted smile. “Thanks to you, the UPS truck pulls into our driveway out of habit, even on the rare day when Vera hasn’t ordered something.”
“We appreciate your support, Vera.” One hand on Fred’s shoulder, he added, “And yours, too.”
Vera dug around in her purse and came up with a pen, then slid her boarding pass out of her husband’s pocket. “Give him yours, too, Fred, so he can sign them for us.”
Jase didn’t think he’d ever get used to being recognized, at the gas station, in the grocery store, on airplanes. “Happy travels,” he wrote on each, then scribbled his signature.
Delighted, the couple moved into the cabin and Gloria said, “You know, Mr. Yeager, with those long legs of yours, you’d be much more comfortable in first class.”
He’d considered it. Colette’s Crafts was doing well. So well in fact that the company could certainly afford the upgrade. But he couldn’t in good conscience spend money on his own creature comforts when his mother and their employees might need it down the road. Besides, he’d gone the first-class route a time or two, for pleasure trips, and didn’t see the point for such a short flight.
“It’s only a two-hour flight. But thanks for the suggestion. If I ever book a transcontinental flight, I’ll keep that in mind.”
She waited until he was situated, then bent at the waist and, smiling wider still, whispered, “Maybe I can rustle you up an extra bag of peanuts.”
The woman to his right snickered. “Who does she think she’s fooling? We’ll all get a second bag of peanuts.”
Jase smiled and nodded, then slid a paperback from his briefcase and hoped she’d take the hint: he’d rather not chitchat all the way to Miami. He had a lot of thinking to do.
His mom’s health scare had inspired her to move “become a grandmother” to the top of her bucket list. Which put pressure on him. He needed to figure out why he didn’t love Whitney. She was as close to perfect as a woman could get. She’d even put up with his bad temper lately.
Yup, he needed to make a decision, for her sake, not his. A woman like that deserved a man who’d give her his whole heart. He couldn’t do that. Not until he’d resolved things with Lillie. It simply wasn’t fair to string Whitney along while he made up his mind.
Any time he or Drew put things off, his dad liked to say, “What’re you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”
The question provoked the image of a white trifold card inviting everyone to his and Whitney’s wedding...
He gritted his teeth. This had to stop, and soon, but for the life of him, he didn’t know how.
Too much time on your hands, that’s what. It was time, he decided, to drag out his guitar, tune it up and get his voice back into shape. Going to Miami once a month, serving as CEO of his mom’s company, attending family functions and spending time with Whitney didn’t leave much time for performing, but rehearsals and the occasional weekend with the band, he hoped, might keep his mind off Lillie.
Who was he kidding? All of that would center his focus directly on her.
Somewhere between the captain’s seat belt announcement and arriving at MIA, Jase dozed off. When the landing startled him awake, his seatmate said, “My, my, you’re certainly a sound sleeper. I’m a lifelong insomniac. You don’t know how envious I am of people like you!”
Jase knuckled his eyes. He’d been out for most of the two-hour flight.
His body might have been out of it, but his brain had swirled with images of Lillie. Being wheeled into surgery. Looking small and vulnerable in the ICU. Working harder and longer than necessary to put physical therapy behind her, all without a word of complaint. He remembered something his sister-in-law had said, about the doctors being partly to blame for the addiction.
His seatmate rose, her head barely grazing the ceiling, and hefted her bulky carry-on over one shoulder. He guessed her age at fifty, maybe fifty-five. Lillie would probably be a lot like her when she reached that age...spry, spunky, intelligent, friendly...
Lillie. Again! What’s wrong with you, man! Jase could hardly wait to get home. He’d need to buy all new sheet music, though, because he and Lillie had harmonized to every song in his files. Files he’d stored in his mom’s basement because they reminded him too much of what they’d shared...and lost.
He stepped into the aisle and let his neighbor go ahead of him.
As he made his way to the front of the plane, Gloria said, “What time will you be on the show, so I can tune in?”
She knew as well as he did that they usually scheduled him for the hours right before and after supper, then again around the time the late-night news came on.
“Soon as I know something more specific, I’ll let you know.”
“What is it the actors say? Break a leg!”
Grinning, Jase thanked her and headed straight for the rental car counter. The kid said, pointing into the lot, “Sorry, but that’s all we have right now.”
Jase had three choices: an enormous red luxury car that reminded him of the one Lillie’s parents traded for the Jeep, a boxy, sport-utility vehicle, and a bright blue minivan, almost exactly like her brother and his wife carted their twins around in.
“I’ll take the minivan.” He’d meant to say SUV. So why hadn’t he! Jase blamed it on all the Lillie-thoughts.
The agent’s fingers click-clacked across his computer’s keyboard. “Family’s joining you later, huh?” And before Jase had a chance to answer, he added, “They’ll love Miami’s Seaquarium. Guess you lucked out. The minivan seats go way back, so if the wife and kids get tired, they can snooze on the way back to the hotel.”
How was he supposed to stop thinking about Lillie if everything and everyone reminded him of her!
“No family,” he barked. And when the kid’s eyes widened in response to his tone, Jase added, “I’m only in town for a few days. On business.”
A young couple with three children in tow stepped up behind him.
The older boy tried, and failed, to whisper, “Hey, Mom. Isn’t that guy from the show you like to watch?”
Jase pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Why, yes, I think it is.”
“Hey, mister,” the youngest said. “Are you the man that sells birdhouses on TV?”
He’d bet anything that as a girl, Lillie had looked a lot like this kid, with a mop of reddish curls and freckles scattered across his nose.
“Yup. That’s me.”
“Cool,” he said, facing his big brother, “somebody famous, and we’ve only been here ten minutes!” He stood beside Jase. “Are you rich?”
That produced a genuine laugh. “I wish!”
“Do you live in a mansion and drive a Ferrari?”
“Sorry,” the dad interrupted, guiding the boy closer to his wife. “Kids. They can be nosy, can’t they.”
“We’re not nosy!” the little guy said.
“Are too,” his sister shot back.
The little guy shoved her into his brother, who bumped into Jase.
“You three stop that right now!” the mother scolded. She led them away from the counter.
He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he finished with the desk clerk. He made sure to offer a grin and a “Have a good one!” to the family as he passed them on his way to the minivan. And felt pretty good about leaving them with the sleek and spacious SUV.
During the fifteen-minute drive to the hotel, Jase thumped the small pine tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Hard to tell what its scent was supposed to mask. Something told him he was better off not knowing.
As soon as he got into his hotel room, his cell phone beeped. Whitney. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but she’d only call back. And keep calling back until he picked up.
“Hi, Jason. What’s new?”
He’d seen her less than five hours ago. What could possibly be new?
“Not much. Just checked in. I drove a minivan from the airport. Light blue. Can you picture it? Me, in a soccer mom vehicle!”
“Oh now, that isn’t so far-fetched, is it?”
He didn’t like the sound of that, and decided to reroute the discussion, fast.
“So did you finish your brief?”
“Of course.”
She sounded peeved. If his brain wasn’t already thumping with Lillie thoughts, he might have asked why.
“What time’s court tomorrow?”
“Ten o’clock. But this judge is never on time. If we were late, she’d probably whack us with her gavel, yet she gets to waltz in anytime she pleases. It isn’t fair.”
Life isn’t fair, he almost said. “Keep a good thought. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be on time.”
“That’ll be a nice surprise.” She paused. “What did you have for dinner?”
“Haven’t eaten yet. Thought I’d get to my room, shower and order something from room service.”
“Aw, poor Jason. Eating all alone in a nasty old hotel room.”
“Actually, the room is great. I have a view of the water and everything. Better still, it’s a five-minute drive from here to the station.”
She giggled.
“What?”
“I’m still picturing you behind the wheel of a powder blue minivan.”
He remembered Lillie’s paint palette, and the dozens of half-empty tubes in her kit. It had been relaxing, watching her turn a blank canvas into a flowery meadow or a wine bottle surrounded by a variety of cheeses. She had a habit of talking to herself while she worked, choosing one color over another, this brush over that, so he’d learned a thing or two about the process by osmosis.
“It’s more cyan than powder blue.”
For some reason, that made her giggle. “Still, it matches your eyes, right?” Then, “Wish I could be there with you, Jason. I miss you. Already.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Better to tell her what she wanted to hear than admit that he enjoyed being alone.
“So what time is your show tomorrow?”
He’d texted her a screenshot of his schedule, just as she’d asked him to. Jase gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, with the legal brief on her mind, she hadn’t checked her phone yet. He unfolded the page he’d tucked into his pocket and read, “Ten until noon, three until five, and nine to midnight.”
“That isn’t very smart of them, wearing you out when you still have three more days to go.”
She knew as well as he did that these hours were the same for most guests. He’d also told her that the producers provided him with a well-appointed dressing room, and had food brought in.
“I’ll be fine, Whit. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“You’re used to it, I know, but I still worry about you.”
“No need. It’s all good.” Lillie had said that in her parents’ front yard...
“Did you get a chance to start that book I gave you?”
“No. I fell asleep not long after takeoff.” He pictured his seatmate, who’d reminded him of an older version of Lillie. He shook off the image. You’re losin’ it, dude... “Thought at first I’d get stuck with a chatterbox. Luckily, I didn’t.”
“Sure.”
“And after that?”
Jase stifled a groan. “I’ll call you first chance I get. Probably around suppertime, if that works for you.”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we talk while we eat? It’ll be like having dinner together.”
“Sure. Why not.”
“I’m going to run through my notes one more time before I go to bed. If I handle things well, we can avoid a trial. This is my first case with this client. She’ll bring big bucks to the firm, so there’s a lot riding on how well I do.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Whitney told him, step by step, how she hoped to force the defense attorney to beg for a deal.
“You’re so quiet,” she said, laughing. “Did I bore you to sleep?”
“Of course not. Your work is interesting. It’s just that I’m tired and hungry. If it won’t bore you, maybe you can tell me all about it tomorrow during dinner.”
“You know what they say, careful what you wish for.” Whitney laughed. “I’ll let you grab a bite to eat and get some sleep.” She paused, then added, “If I was there, I’d call room service for you.”
“If you were here, you wouldn’t need to. I’d take you someplace nice to eat.”
“You’re so sweet. And so good to me.”
Yeah. Right. Sweet. He felt like a jerk, giving her the bum’s rush, but all he wanted right now was to hit the hay. And hope like crazy he wouldn’t dream about Lillie.
“G’night, Whitney.”
Her sigh drifted into his ear. He recognized it as a stall tactic, and if he didn’t hang up, she’d start talking again. Lillie hadn’t been like that. Any time he needed to be away for a night or two on pub business, she’d always sensed when he needed to hang up. It wasn’t so bad, was it, wishing Whitney could be a little more like her?
Yes, it was bad. And yes, he was a jerk. A jerk who needed to figure things out before he hurt a perfectly nice woman.
“G’night, Jase.”
“Good luck tomorrow, Whit. I’m hanging up now.” And he did.