Rejected Writers Take the Stage (Southlea Bay Book 2)

by Suzanne Kelman

  The last thing Annie wanted to do was give him a tour, but she remembered her manners. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

  “I’d love a cup of coffee, two sugars, and creamer if you’ve got it,” he said, placing out his paperwork on her table.

  Annie stood up and sighed heavily as she made her way into the kitchen. He was apparently planning to settle in, and this was not going to be fun, she thought, disconcerted.

  An hour later, he left, and as much as Annie had wanted to dislike him, he had won her over with his charm and apparent kindness. He listened intently to her story of the dragging recession and made all the right sympathetic noises in all the right places. He even talked about his parents having a similar experience with their small business. Then he had practically gushed as she had shown him around the farm. They had parted ways amicably and only once had she felt a twinge of apprehension: while she had been signing paperwork that he had insisted was standard procedure. He had assured her that these papers were “just in case” they needed an agreement to find alternative arrangements to the repayment plan that Annie had said she would be putting into place.

  She had sensed a change in his demeanor then, as he had whipped one document after another in front of her. Gone was all the laid-back charm. It had felt orchestrated, with carefully rehearsed statements as he gave her an overview of everything she was signing.

  As she waved good-bye to her visitor from her doorway with her fur family gathered at her feet, her feelings were mixed. Even though she was glad he had been so friendly, she still couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of impending doom that decided to lodge itself in the pit of her stomach.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A RED, BLOTCHY FACE & THE RETURN OF THE ICY CLAW

  Flora had been up since six, and now her thoughts were clearer than ever. She’d had a very sleepless night, and at about three o’clock, she’d made a decision. She wasn’t going to let this one man destroy her. Yes, she’d loved him, but she was also not naïve. She had her own strong moral code about what was right, but she knew that not everybody was the same. Dan obviously had no problem showing attention to more than one woman at a time, but that was not how she was built. She would be polite to Dan, but at some point, she would let him know that she believed that she was worth more than that, that she was worth being the only one in someone’s life. She sipped her peppermint tea by the fire. Even though her heart was shattered, her mind was clear. She wasn’t going to let anyone determine her self-worth.

  Her house phone started ringing, and it gave her a start. She’d been so deep in reverie, it jolted her back to the present. She walked quickly to the phone, and her hand hovered over the top of it before she picked it up. If it was Dan, she wanted to be ready to be strong. She took a deep breath and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Flora.”

  It was Dan, and even though she’d made a decision to be strong, she couldn’t help it. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his voice. She locked her jaw for a second to stop from losing it and managed to squeeze out, “Yes?”

  “It’s me,” laughed Dan. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

  The picture of him kissing Marcy swam into her thoughts yet another time, but she still managed to control herself. Her heart was beating like a drum in her ears. She didn’t answer him; she just wasn’t sure she believed him.

  “I was hoping to come over and see you this morning,” he said, unable to contain his excitement. Then, when she didn’t automatically respond to that, he added softly, “If you’re feeling well enough today, of course.”

  “I’m fine,” said Flora curtly. Then her next words had an edge of bitterness, which she knew was out of character for her, but they were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “What about Marcy? Won’t you be seeing her?”

  On the other end of the phone, Dan paused, as if he were taken aback. The ice in her tone was having its effect. She knew she didn’t sound like herself, and he appeared to be completely stunned by her comment.

  “Marcy?” he replied. “What about Marcy?”

  Flora drew in breath, knowing she was committed to a path. “Won’t she want to see you today?”

  “I’m sure she has plans, and I want to see you,” he stated imploringly.

  Flora didn’t know what to say. He was so brazen about it. Marcy had plans, so instead he would see her?

  Before she had time to respond, Dan continued, “So, if you’re feeling better, I’m going to pick you up. I thought we could take a walk on the beach. So dress warmly, and, Flora, I can’t wait to see you.”

  Then, without another word, he hung up.

  Flora was flabbergasted. He was coming to her house right now? She flew up the stairs to try to make herself presentable. She was still in her white cotton nightie, and her face was a red, blotchy mess.

  She was still in the bedroom, trying to patch together her face, when she heard the bell ring. He must have jumped into his car the minute he’d put the phone down. Karen lived clear across town, and he’d made it in record time. She gave her nose one final blow and looked at herself in the mirror. This would have to do.

  She walked slowly down the stairs and unlatched her front door. He took her in his arms before she had fully opened it, and as much as she tried to resist him, it felt so good to be this close to him. His arms were powerful around her, and she was greeted by the clean scent of fresh air and his light aftershave.

  After what seemed like forever, he finally released her and looked at her. She fought back tears as she looked deep into his eyes.

  “So good to see you,” he said.

  She’d waited for this moment for over four months, and now all she could think about was Marcy.

  She suddenly realized that they were still standing on the doorstep.

  “Will you come in?” she said politely.

  Dan seemed tickled by her sweetness and responded, “I would be delighted.” They stepped inside, and she closed the door.

  A moment of awkward shyness followed, where he just looked at her, and she reciprocated by looking at the ground.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked politely.

  “Okay,” he said enthusiastically, appearing not to care what they did.

  She rushed past him into the kitchen as he took off his coat and threw it across one of her chairs. Mr. Darcy was instantly around his ankles, saying his very own feline hello.

  Dan picked him up and started to whisper to him, sweetly, “Hey there, little fellow, how are you?”

  Even as hurt as she was, Flora couldn’t help but feel her heart stretch toward him. She put on the kettle and prepared him coffee. Her heart ached. She wanted this to work with Dan, but if she couldn’t trust him, then how could that be possible?

  “I love your house, Flora,” Dan shouted from the living room.

  She could see him wandering around the room, looking at her photographs. Mr. Darcy sat purring in his arms as Dan tickled his ears. The kettle boiled, and she made up a tea tray and walked into the living room. When he saw her, he beamed.

  “You look lovely,” he said.

  Flora blushed, saying, “I poured you coffee.”

  As she put the tray down on the table, he reached for her hand, covering it with his own. It was a tender moment that sent a shiver up her arm. He looked at her then, his gaze intent on connecting with her on a deeper level.

  “I’ve really missed you, Flora.”

  She wanted to say the same. Instead she found herself asking coldly, “Would you like some cream with your coffee?”

  He pulled away slightly, apparently aware of her spurning. “Yes, thank you,” he said, taking his hand gently from hers and wrapping it around the mug.

  They made small talk, and she could tell he was being careful, as if he were not sure of his footing. She watched him, trying to separate all the feelings that were whirring around her mind regarding how she felt
about him. He finished his coffee, got up, and walked to the window.

  “Fancy a walk, Flora? It’s cold, but it’s a lovely day.”

  She was relieved at the chance of a distraction and got her coat, boots, and hat.

  As they exited the cottage, Dan took hold of her hand before she got a chance to object. As much as she wanted to be strong, it felt warm and comfortable to be holding it.

  “Want to go to the beach?” he inquired.

  She nodded. They walked toward the water. Flora’s closest beach was just a five-minute walk and was one of the prettiest on the island. With a beachfront that stretched for a mile in either direction, it was awash with a multitude of stones, shells, and wayward sun-bleached branches that collected in droves upon the shore. With a 180-degree vista of the water and surrounding islands, the backdrop was a spectacular view of the snowcapped Cascade Mountains, dominated in the foreground by the majestic presence of Mount Baker.

  As soon as they got to the beach, Flora realized she should have put a sweater on under her coat. It was sunny but biting cold, and the wind was whipping around her. As they stepped on the sand, she shivered. Dan pulled her close and gently put his arms around her, and she felt herself relax into him a little.

  As they looked at the calm rolling water, a heron took off into the sky. Dan’s arms around her felt good. As much as she wanted to be upset with him, this felt so right. She thawed toward him a little.

  Gently, he turned her chin toward him until she was inches from his face. She could feel his breath on her cheek, his eyes searching hers. Then, in a moment, his lips were upon hers. They were dry from the wind but warm. He gently held her face in his hands, and the back of his fingers brushed gently down across her cheek. They then moved to stroke her hair, tenderly. She had been so surprised by his kiss that she hadn’t closed her eyes, and now she was drinking in every inch of his face, from his soft, black lashes to his wavy black hair as it ruffled gently across his forehead in the breeze.

  She closed her eyes and felt herself giving in to his kiss, and his urgent need to be close to her became apparent. Pulling her body deeper into his, his hands continued to caress her hair and then her back. And though it was demanding, his kiss continued to be soft, gentle, and loving.

  But all she could think about was Marcy.

  Finally he pulled away, and she was breathless.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you yesterday. It is so good to be here with you, Flora.”

  Flora couldn’t help herself; all her ideas of being strong were melting away. She felt tears sting her eyes with her wave of mixed emotions.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she finally said.

  Maybe she had imagined it yesterday. Maybe he hadn’t kissed Marcy at all. Maybe what she had seen had been distorted by the rain. Surely someone couldn’t kiss her like that while having feelings for another woman. Maybe she should give Dan a chance to explain what had happened the day before, she thought to herself.

  She was just about to ask him about it when his cell phone started ringing. At first he didn’t answer it, but it just continued to buzz until it became obvious he felt resentful that it was holding them hostage. He reached into his pocket and took the call.

  Flora drew in breath as Dan said, “Hello, Marcy.” Then Flora watched as he stiffened. He released Flora and turned toward the sea, gazing out at the view as he said, “I completely forgot.”

  Flora could tell he was going to say something else, but she could also hear Marcy talking ten to the dozen on the line, although she couldn’t make out what she was saying.

  Dan interrupted Marcy, saying, “It’s not really convenient right—”

  Then she must have cut him off. He responded with, “Yes, I know that, but—” Apparently not listening, Marcy spoke over him again.

  Dan reached out to play with Flora’s hair as a concerned look clouded his face.

  “Hold on,” he said into the phone.

  He laid the phone against his chest and looked at Flora.

  “Would you mind if I went and picked up Marcy?”

  Flora was so horrified that she couldn’t speak. Dan appeared to take her silence as a yes and continued, “She’s meeting people for coffee at the Coffee Spot, and I forgot she’d asked me to give her a lift into town. Now she’s stuck out at her uncle’s farmhouse, and they’ve all gone out for the morning.”

  Flora felt the icy claw from the night before take hold of her heart once more. She stared at Dan for a long, hard moment, then shrugged her shoulders dismissively, saying, “I need to get back anyway.”

  Dan looked desperate. “No, please, you have to come with me. It will only take us twenty minutes. I don’t want to ruin our time together. Please say you’ll come, Flora.”

  Flora was distraught. Her mind was a blur, though she knew clearly that the last person in the world she wanted to see was Marcy. Before Flora could say anything in response, she heard Marcy’s voice on the end of the phone asking if he was still there.

  Dan put the phone to his ear, saying, “Okay, okay, we’ll be over in about ten minutes.” Then he hung up and reached out to Flora. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “She doesn’t really know anyone but me. I forgot her family was over on the mainland, and she can’t pick up a car until after the holidays. I forgot I told her I would do this for her today.”

  He pulled Flora in for a hug, but the moment had passed, and now it felt awkward. Already Flora’s thoughts had moved back to the kiss she’d seen the night before.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  FROZEN HUSBANDS & FLYERS OF FANCY

  I trotted downstairs to make myself a cup of tea and noticed Stacy was already up. She wasn’t drinking anything with caffeine and was treating coffee like a poison from hell. Just the smell of it made her gag. So poor Martin had to brew and drink his coffee in his garden shed. As I reached the kitchen, he stepped back in from outside, sending a blast of frigid air throughout the house. His stiff, ice-cold body shuffled through the door, wearing his dark-blue bathrobe and brown leather slippers. Folded under his arm, in frigid sheets, was the morning paper, and clutched in a frozen, white clawlike hand was his empty coffee cup. He looked positively blue.

  Fortunately, my drink of choice, tea, was less ominous to Stacy, so I turned on the kettle. As I looked out the window, I noted it was still dark. Now, once again, I questioned my decision to direct this show. The auditions were the next day, and I had never felt less qualified. Martin handed me an advertisement he had circled in the newspaper. It read:

  Do you want to be in a show? Doris Newberry could use YOU. The Rejected Writers’ Book Club is organizing a fund-raiser for a friend in need: a musical extravaganza produced, written, and directed by talented local writers. We heartily welcome you. Here is our criterion:

  No late arrivals.

  No loiterers.

  No time wasters.

  No kids.

  No food or drink.

  No bad singers.

  No bad dancers.

  No bad actors.

  Come on down. It will be fun.

  I threw the paper down on the kitchen table. I knew that Doris had also made flyers and put them up all over town. I was guessing they would be just as “inviting.” Maybe I was worrying for no reason. God knows who was going to be brave enough to turn up.

  Stacy sat at the kitchen table, tossed her toast down on the plate, and complained that she needed different bread. Once again, for the hundredth time since she’d arrived, she complained about how backward the island was and how she could get anything she wanted where she lived in San Francisco, including hot French bread straight from the oven right down the street.

  She was feeling extra grumpy this morning because she had received a call from her husband, Chris, the night before. He said that though his mother was much better, he had to go on one last overseas business trip in order to be able to take some time off to help her in the last month of her pregnancy.

  I tried to dist
ract myself from biting back by asking her about her job. That was the wrong thing to ask though, because Stacy then went into an emotional rampage about how she didn’t like her replacement and wasn’t even sure she would have a job to go back to once the babies were born. But the company had encouraged her to take some time off and start her maternity leave early, as her job in advertising could be so demanding.

  “That seems reasonable,” Martin said, folding the newspaper he’d been finishing over his breakfast. “You do work very hard.”

  “I know,” Stacy said, irritated. “Everyone is right, but I just don’t know if I want to do this with my time. I hate sitting around at home. I need to be busy.”

  “I’m sure you can find something of interest to do with your time off,” I added.

  I finished my breakfast and cleared away the dishes while Stacy waddled to the sofa and sat down, sighing. She picked up a fashion magazine and started flicking through it.

  I sat down too. I knew I needed to start thinking about the show I was directing. I pulled out the script and started making notes about the edits I would need to do to make it less like The Wizard of Oz. Stacy glanced over and noticed me working.

  “What are you reading?” she inquired.

  I told her the whole story, and she balked.

  “You’re directing a show? How would you know how to do that?”

  “It’s for a good cause,” I said, a little irritated at my daughter’s lack of confidence in me. Even though my thoughts were along the same lines, I wasn’t going to let her see that. “It’s for Annie,” I continued, “and she has no one but us to help her, so I’ll figure it out somehow.”

  Stacy sniffed her disapproval and went back to the magazine she was reading. I could tell she was thinking about something. She turned a couple of pages, then threw the magazine down on the table. I could sense she was about to announce something profound.