Love Finds You in Carmel by-the-Sea, California

by Sandra D. Bricker

  “Not by much.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Anytime.”

  Sherman waddled into the kitchen, Murphy impatient at his tail, and they both plopped down beneath the table and leaned into one another.

  “How cute are they!” Zoey commented.

  “I know.”

  As she sat down at the table, Annie happened to notice her five-point plan that used to hang on the door of the refrigerator now standing against the lazy Susan on the tabletop.

  “What’s this doing here?”

  “What is it?” Zoey asked.

  “My plan for change.”

  “Dunno. I thought it was on the fridge.”

  “Me too.”

  Annie pushed out of the chair and swept the paper with her. She replaced it on the fridge with the Christmas magnet then stood before it and read it over.

  ANNIE’S FIVE-POINT PLAN FOR CHANGE

  1. Get a really cool job. Something fun and exciting!

  2. Get some great hair.

  3. Move back to Monterey.

  4. Work on smiling more to attract racecar drivers or international spies. (Get teeth whitened!)

  5. A new car. Something sporty. Maybe a convertible?

  It occurred to her that the only thing on the list she’d managed to accomplish was point number one. She did have a very cool job.

  Her hair—just the same as on the night she wrote the list. And the days of a Monterey mailing address were now far behind her.

  I do smile more, she thought. And my teeth are pretty white, despite the fact that no racecar drivers or spies have shown any interest in dating me.

  Her car could use a tune-up, but the hope still twinkled on the horizon that she might go out and buy a convertible at a moment’s notice, especially now that they would be working for Franklin Usher.

  “Still thinking you want to be a character in a classic film?” Zoey asked from beside her.

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “No.”

  She turned and looked at her, and Zoey smiled. “You are an exceptional you. Ask anyone in that room.”

  Zoey combed Annie’s hair with her fingers and smoothed it down lovingly. “Well, maybe on this particular day you could use some better hair.”

  They shared a laugh and a hug, and Annie found herself feeling immense gratitude for her current life, the one without a convertible or a racecar-driver boyfriend.

  Everyone had gone, and it was just Sherman and Annie as she heated up one of the plastic boxes of lasagna.

  There’s nothing like Zoey’s lasagna.

  Yellow squash, zucchini, mushrooms, broccoli. Just the smell of it nearly enticed Annie to eat it cold, but she decided to hold out for the microwave to do its stuff.

  She removed some salad from the big bowl and drizzled Italian dressing on it before setting it on the table. As the microwave dinged, Sherman rushed to the living room for the hundredth time since Nick had taken Murphy home. Once again, he took a flying leap at the window seat and leaned forward to peer outside. No sign of Murphy, but he seemed determined to keep on watching.

  He made the trip three more times while Annie ate her dinner.

  At least he’s getting some exercise.

  When she headed upstairs to her bedroom, Sherman didn’t follow. He just remained in the window, keeping vigil and hoping for the return of his new best friend.

  “Sherman,” Annie called down to him, and she patted the mattress firmly. “Come on, buddy.”

  His reply: the most mournful howl Annie had ever heard out of him.

  This is going to be a very long night.

  Deciding that a walk might do them both some good, Annie pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. When the shoes came out of the closet and Annie returned downstairs, Sherman revived and excitedly dashed out in search of his leash.

  His short-lived enthusiasm melted to disappointment when realization dawned: A walk. Not a ride in the car.

  He pulled and struggled until he got Annie to follow his lead toward Taurie, and he stood next to the back door of the car in expectation.

  “Nothing doing,” she told him. “Forget it.”

  He shifted from his right paw to his left and back again, still looking confidently at the car door.

  “Are you kidding me with this, Sherman?”

  One more shift, and another hopeful glance.

  “No, Sherman. We’re going inside. Come on.”

  She had to really pull to get him to go along, and he took the three stairs at the back door as if marching to his own execution.

  “Sherman, be a good boy,” she suggested to him, and his tail wagged just one time. A noble effort, at least.

  There were two more howling sessions at the window overnight, but by morning Sherman seemed to have come to terms with the fact that life had rolled back in time.

  It felt strange to stay home from work, and by ten thirty Annie felt restless. She even considered visiting her parents but thought better of it when she remembered the huge black eye she sported. Not something she wanted to share with her mother.

  She watched some television and flipped through one of the magazines Zoey had left, eventually finding her way to the computer to check e-mail.

  An e-greeting from Evan wished her a speedy recovery, as did one from Merideth, and a few items of spam invited deletion. Then she spotted the e-mail from Ted and Linda. Just your basic update on the pregnancy, but it lit a fire under her that she deemed long overdue.

  Annie dialed their number and propped her feet on the desk while she waited for an answer.

  “Linda? It’s Annie.”

  “Hey, what are you doing home in the middle of the day?”

  “Playing hooky,” she told her. “Listen, I was wondering if anyone has made any plans for a baby shower.”

  “Not yet, that I know of.”

  “Good. Because I’d really like to give you one.”

  A long moment of silence preceded her reply. “You would?”

  “Yes. I thought we could have it here at Gram’s. But if you’d rather have it at your house or your favorite restaurant, we can do that too.”

  “Annie, are you serious?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “I’m so…touched. Thank you.”

  “So do you have time to talk about it right now?” Annie asked her. “I thought I could get some idea of what you’d like.”

  “Well, yes. I have time.”

  “Great. So what do you think about location? Gram’s house is good. Or I was thinking we could have it at this great little place in the village. It’s called the Tuck Box—a real English tearoom.”

  “Oh, Annie, I’ve been there. It’s lovely, like a little fairy-tale cottage. And their scones are the size of your fist! I love that idea.”

  “Great. I’ll call them today. What about the date? We don’t want to wait too long so you can still be comfortable and enjoy it. Of course, it will depend on availability, but how about the last Saturday of next month?”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you make up a list of names and addresses?”

  “I can e-mail it to you tomorrow.”

  “Awesome, Linda. This is going to be so much fun.” And what a nice surprise it was that she meant it.

  “Annie, thank you so much.”

  “You’re family,” she reminded her. “I want to do this for you and Ted.”

  “I just don’t know what to say. It’s very unexpected.”

  “Oh, and are you registered anywhere yet?”

  “Babies R Us. I just finished it last night.”

  “Great! I’ll look up the link and add it to the invitations, then.”

  “Seriously. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say…‘Yay! We’re having a baby shower!’”

  “Yay,” Linda replied. “We’re having a baby shower.”

  “Good.”

  As Annie surfed the Net for invitation ideas, she
made the call to the Tuck Box to nail down the date and talk about the menu. After a few minutes, she gave the woman her credit card number for the deposit on the room as she opened a Notepad file on her screen and typed in the tearoom’s Web address. Completely energized, and surprisingly excited about the whole idea, Annie’s heart felt lighter. She should have done this weeks ago.

  Sherman chose that moment to resume his half-howl-half-bark routine at the back door. Annie opened her mouth to reprimand him when someone knocked.

  Evan peered at her through the window as she approached, and he waved.

  “You look awful!” he said as soon as she opened the door. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not too much. Come on in.”

  He held up a white bag and smiled. “I brought coffee.”

  Evan loved coffee, even considered himself a sort of coffee gourmet, and he continued to bring it over to Annie as if she might appreciate it as much as he did. But Annie’s taste buds craved something cold and bubbly rather than bitter and hot.

  “It’s French vanilla.”

  Well, that might help.

  He greeted Sherman, and they sat down at the kitchen table while he creamed and sweetened the coffee.

  “So tell me how you’re feeling.”

  “Honestly, I’m fine. I could have worked today.”

  “So I hope you’re getting some rest while you can.”

  “Well, I tried. But I ended up planning a baby shower instead.”

  “You’re joking. For Ted and Linda?”

  Annie shrugged. “It seems like the right thing to do.”

  He regarded her seriously overtop his round wire glasses, and he grinned at her. “I’m proud of you, Annie.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I hope you won’t get sick of planning showers, though.”

  “I won’t. It’s just the one.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll want to get involved in arranging one for Jenny, too.”

  She considered his words then gasped. “Evan, what have you—”

  “Oh! No!” he exclaimed. “Not a baby shower. A wedding shower.”

  “Oh,” she sighed. Then the weight of his words fell on her. “Evan. Really?”

  He nodded, beaming. “I asked her last night, and she said yes.”

  “Isn’t it…a little soon, Ev? Are you sure?”

  “We’re both sure, Annie.”

  She fell speechless, and Evan peered at her in expectation, waiting for her to say…something. Then he broke the silence.

  “I love her, Annie. And I think it was Ben Franklin who said—”

  She smacked his arm and shook her head as she rose from her chair. Putting her arms around Evan’s neck, Annie gave him a firm kiss on the cheek.

  “Then I’m happy for you, Evan. You deserve this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Why, you speak treason!”

  “Fluently.”

  Olivia deHavilland / Errol Flynn,

  The Adventures of Robin Hood, 1938

  Evan is getting married.

  “I’m happy for you,” Annie had told him. And at the moment that she said it, she almost thought she might mean it. But now, a few hours later, without the influence of his beaming, dopey face to reason with her…

  Evan. Is. Getting. Married.

  The announcement prompted a tailspin of photo-viewing, chocolate-craving, pizza-needing nostalgia. She’d only just come to terms with the burgeoning relationship between Jenny and Evan; now there was an impending marriage to reconcile?

  If she had to be honest about it, despite the fact that this was no time for it, she did spend a few afternoons once upon a time dreaming about the wedding dress she would seek out once Evan finally asked her to marry him. If only in the first years of knowing him, Annie guessed she always just assumed he would eventually ask.

  Evan didn’t fit the mold of the future husband Annie had constructed, and in the beginning the very thought of them together seemed almost absurd. But as time wore on and she came to see the man he was inside, the attraction became gradually more intense. His best qualities just gravitated to the forefront, and the others simply drifted into a sort of blender-variety background that no longer seemed so important.

  So before she even knew what had happened, Annie felt certain she had fallen in love with Evan, or was pretty close to it anyway. She’d often wondered if her feelings had initiated the demise of their coupledom. Perhaps he’d looked into her eyes one day and recognized her absolute surrender, jet-propelling him to go a little nutty about it. Fear of commitment burst from the waters like that shark in Jaws, and the dumb thing had quickly gnawed away at any possibility they ever might have had of moving forward. Annie had always just assumed it was Evan’s problem. Can’t commit, period. Write him off for womankind.

  She’d begun suspecting it as Jenny and Evan grew closer, but now she knew the truth for certain, and she’d found it in a most unexpected place: at the bottom of the third miniature Snickers she’d consumed over the last hour. Try as she might, Annie couldn’t deny it. She and Evan had never been able to get on track because his train belonged somewhere else.

  A rap at the back door drew her attention. Nick peered at her through the window.

  Annie gazed at her surroundings: the kitchen tabletop obliterated by Snickers wrappers and the full contents of her Evan box. A messy ponytail, wrinkled sweats, and Diet Coke dribbled down the front of her T-shirt created a total package; but the swollen black-blue eye smeared with remnants of salty, just-rejected tears put the cherry on the top of her humiliation.

  “Hang on a minute,” she called to him, knowing full well that he watched her gather up the hodgepodge and stuff it into the flowered hatbox where it belonged before she opened the door. “Be right there.”

  Nick turned the knob and poked his head inside before she completed her task. “No need to clean up,” he said. “I’m just checking on you.”

  Sherman didn’t bother to bark; he just waddled over to Nick and nuzzled a greeting against his leg with his nose.

  “Hey, Sherm.”

  “I’m just hiding the wreckage,” Annie told him, scurrying to toss the last of the photos and cards back into the box. “This is what happens when you make me stay home from work. I create messes.”

  “Well, what’s supposed to be happening is some rest-and-recovery action.”

  He slid several photos toward her across the tabletop then picked up one of them to take a look. Evan, Sherman, and Annie in front of the Christmas tree, dated on the back.

  “I guess you’ve heard the news,” he speculated.

  “News?”

  “Evan and Jenny.”

  “Oh, that. Yes. It’s…wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Nick didn’t reply, but the lock of their eyes said what he didn’t.

  The doorbell rang, and Sherman woofed a couple of sharp barks without bothering to check it out.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Nick asked.

  “Pizza,” she replied, embarrassed.

  “With all that food Zoey and Evan loaded into your refrigerator?”

  “Some days just call for pizza.”

  He grinned and reached for his wallet. “I’ll get it.”

  While he paid the delivery guy with Sherman at his heel, Annie picked out the Snickers wrappers from inside the Evan box and pushed down the lid, sliding the box to the seat of one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Is this lunch or dinner?” he asked before placing the pizza box on the table and glancing at Dog-clock for confirmation. A three o’clock pizza delivery.

  “I’m not sure. Dinner, I think.”

  He produced two bottles of water from the refrigerator and grabbed the roll of paper towels, bringing everything to the table. He tore off a couple of paper towels from the roll.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “It’s your nickel.”

  They faced each other awkwardly, both of them eating their slices in complete silence. When he fini
shed it, Nick wiped his mouth with the paper towel and tossed it to the table.

  “I think I’ll hit the road, Annie,” he declared.

  “After one slice?”

  “Not really hungry. Is there anything you need?”

  Annie looked up at him, fully intending to tell him that things were just peachy, doing fine, nothing to worry about. Instead, however, tears spouted from her eyes like a dam that had suddenly burst. Some traitorous thumb had been yanked from a dike somewhere, and there didn’t appear to be any way to stop the flood that followed.

  He leaned back in his chair for a moment, regarding her thoughtfully but saying nothing. Finally Nick sighed, stood up, and scuffed his chair next to her and sat down.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Okay, then.”

  And with that, he placed an arm around Annie’s shoulder, pulled her toward him, and let her cry for a few minutes. Unrolling another paper towel, he tore it off and handed it to her. Annie wiped her face and blew her nose.

  “Doesn’t it get a little old for you, Annie Gray?”

  “What?”

  “This bumpy road of lamenting the loss of a relationship that never came to fruition?”

  She groaned. “I don’t know why it’s hitting me like this,” she told him. “It’s ridiculous. Evan and I have been over for…ever.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “All evidence to the contrary.”

  “Well, I know. But it’s true. And Jenny is such a great girl, Nick. I mean it. I really like her, and she’s perfect for Evan.”

  “And yet here you are, crying over him.”

  “Not over him,” she admitted, almost on a whisper.

  “Over what, then?”

  I wish I knew.

  “Fear?” she suggested, not sure at all.

  “Of?”

  “Of never being loved, maybe. Of never having anyone look at me the way Evan looks at Jenny. Of never truly knowing what that feels like.”

  Nick’s silence provoked Annie’s mind to wander around like a pinball, bouncing from one thought to another until she forgot what was last said.

  “You know what your problem is, don’t you?”

  No, but it sounds like you do.

  He stood up and crossed to the refrigerator, pulling off her five-point plan and waving it at her. “This is your problem.”