by Aria Ford
As the murmuring broke out with enthusiasm, and some people enthusiastically applauded, I looked around nervously. I could see Allie's back and, as she accepted a plate of soup from the waitress, she turned a little toward me but it seemed like she was determined to ignore me. She looked rigidly away.
She really hates me.
I finished my speech and felt as if my heart had sunk into my shoe-tops. As the audience started to ask questions, eager and excited about the offer, wanting to learn more, I glanced in her direction. She still wasn't looking at me.
“If we subscribe now, can we change later?”
“No hidden costs,” I said reassuringly. I had been adamant about that. I wasn't about to trick people into paying for a year of our services by offering them a free month and then deducting charges if they forgot to cancel in advance. It wasn't something I liked.
“None?”
“None.”
The audience sounded happy about that. I turned to take the next question. My eyes wandered from the man asking me the question – an elderly man with elegant white mustache and black suit – to the stiff posture in the rear corner of the room. She seemed to have softened as I drew to a halt and was clapped.
She really does hate me. She's even pleased to finally hear me shut up now. Hell.
I acknowledged the applause with a grateful smile and a wave, and headed off the podium. There would be plenty of questions after dinner, I was sure. But right now, I was starved and so, I was sure, was everyone else.
“Mr. Liston?” the press guy said, coming to join me as the implacable Brice led us to my table.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Great innovation! Can you comment on the effectiveness of reducing drunk driving in the city?”
I frowned. “That's one of the core values of Safetrans,” I said automatically. “Providing a safe alternative to public transport, a discreet and reliable service to get you home, safe and legal.”
The press guy looked pleased. I carried on the interview while we looked at the menu. My stomach rumbled. At last, as the waitress came over to take our orders, he concluded the interview and stopped recording us.
I placed my order and found my eyes automatically wandering to the corner again. Allie was talking animatedly to someone – I could see her gesturing in that firm, excitable way she always had. My heart tensed. I missed her. Seeing her now, I realized just how much I had. I hadn't met anyone like her before and she'd been such an anchor in my ungrounded, insincere world.
“Sir?”
I blinked. The reporter's voice brought me back from a reverie where I'd been with Allie. “Yeah? Sorry. I was distracted.”
“No problem, sir. I just wanted to ask – off the record – how you're finding the town?”
“It's great,” I said sincerely, reaching for my water-glass to moisten my dry, parched throat. “I look forward to exploring it some more.”
I had asked for three days here – that gave me tomorrow and the next day to look around and get to know the town a bit better. I'd already been invited to a charity event and I was looking forward to it. Now, I wished I'd asked for a week.
“It's a great place,” the reporter acknowledged. “Moved here myself after college. It's got something for everyone. Great town.”
“Uh huh,” I nodded absently. I listened with friendly interest while he told me about the delights of the town. I was still watching the back table.
I guess she's moved on, I thought sadly. I was such an asshole.
It was only now, sitting here in this stylish and full space, that I realized that I'd been inexcusably thoughtless. How would I feel, if someone did that to me? If she treated me like that?
I would be angry. I'd be hurt. I'd probably ignore her.
Probably, in fact, I would behave exactly as she was now. I couldn't blame her for it.
“So you're staying here long?” the reporter asked politely.
“Three days,” I acknowledged. “Oh. Thanks.” The waitress put a plate of fancy-looking crepes with tomato and onion compote in front of me. They smelled heavenly. I could feel my mouth watering.
I ate my starter slowly, chatting with the press guy as I did so, letting my gaze search over the assembled groups for the dark-haired head in the corner.
I might be able to chat with her before the evening rounds off.
After the dinner, we would have a bit of a meet-and-greet where the local restaurant-proprietors could ask me things. If I was particularly-fortunate, I might get a chance to talk with Allie. Alone.
The dinner was delicious – it was a great example of Asheville's popularity as a foodie destination. I dabbed at my lips with a napkin, my blood fired after a delicious chocolate mousse.
The sweet, rich taste made me think, annoyingly, of Allie. I glanced at her and down again. My recollections of her in my bed were sweet and delicious and I was becoming aware of my body responding somewhat-urgently.
“A great meal,” the reporter said.
“Mm,” I nodded, setting aside the linen square of napkin and pushing back my chair. “After coffee we have the meet-and-greet, right?”
“Yes, sir,” he nodded. “I'll be leaving you in peace.”
I chuckled. “You've been good company,” I supplied. He grinned and looked somewhat relieved.
“Thanks, Mr. Liston.”
When we'd finished dinner and all the participants were standing, filing into the conference-hall to stand about and chat, I followed the crowd in.
Allie, just say hello?
I stood around awkwardly, breathing in the scent of perfume and mint and listening to the rise and fall of genteel conversation around me. My eyes scanned the different groups – men and women of all ages and descriptions, the backbone of the Asheville hospitality industry. Where is Allie, I wondered.
I chatted with the couple who owned a hotel, then with another group and then, slowly, working my way round the hall, I spotted her. She was talking to a tall, thin man with pale hair and then he headed off for a moment. I swallowed hard. Now is my chance...
I managed to make my way over. She was there by the long, curtain-covered windows, her brown hair coming down over one shoulder, wearing a smart brown suit. She had her back to me.
“Hello?” I said, surprised by how taut my voice sounded.
She turned around. The brown eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting again and then she closed down, her face falling to a neutral expression.
“Hello,” she said. She was looking at the ground, voice small and cold. I felt my heart twist.
“Uh...Alexandra?” I said, my voice thin and eager. “I... it’s good to see you,” I finished lamely.
“It's a good offer, this,” she said lightly. “I'm glad I heard about it.”
“Thanks,” I said. Lighthearted suddenly as a result of her praise, I smiled. “I hope it will be useful to you in... say, what is your business nowadays?”
She looked up at me with those big brown eyes.
“I own a coffee-shop,” she said mildly. She spoke as if it should have been obvious and I smiled. Her dark-red lips apart and a little moist from the water she was drinking. I felt my loins tense and cleared my throat awkwardly.
“That's amazing news! Well done, Allie.”
The brown eyes widened a little, as if surprised by my praise. Then they frosted over again.
“I always intended to start my own business,” she said testily. She took a sip from the tall glass she held. I frowned, wondering if she still didn't drink. It had been one of the things, ironically, my uncle had cited as making her unsuitable. How will you go places with her? What will people think? I thought it was something nice about her. Unusual, but nice.
“I know,” I said, replying to her earlier comment. “I remember.” I did.
Again, her expression softened. She looked down, avoiding my gaze. Coughed.
“I should go,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
She
looked up stonily. “I know when I'm not wanted.”
I felt my heart tie itself in knots. “Allie,” I protested weakly. “Wait...it's...”
But she had already turned her back and melted back into the crowd. I sighed. Looked around frantically. But she was making her way to the other door and I couldn't very well chase after her! I could not very well make a scene.
“Mr. Liston?”
“Uh, yes?” I turned around sharply to find myself looking down at an older man and his wife.
“We wanted to say congratulations for a great idea. And my wife wanted to ask you some questions about yearly subscriptions…?”
“Oh,” I said mildly. “I'll be pleased to answer them, ma'am?”
As the woman – dressed elegantly in a designer dress with a discreet but expensive necklace on – asked me her questions, I found myself doing my best to concentrate on the words and to ignore the presence at the back of the hall, just by the door.
The evening wore on and before I knew it the event was closing. I found myself heading out of the hotel and to the car at the front steps.
“To the hotel, sir?” my driver asked.
“Yes. Thanks,” I added, sliding into the seat. I sat down and closed my eyes, feeling drained. Getting in and driving away made me feel oddly bereft. I felt as if I was driving away from Allie.
Turning my back on her six years ago had been hard.
As I watched the dark streets and the bright signs of restaurants and street-lamps pass us, I found myself thinking back to how my life had been six years ago. I was in the apartment in California, where I still stayed. Allie had rented a small place on the edge of the suburb, just around the corner from the chef-school. We had made plans together.
And then my uncle had made his demands on me. I still couldn't forgive him for that. Now that I'd seen her again, I could forgive him even less. How could he make me turn my back on Allie?
I still couldn't quite believe it.
I closed my eyes, remembering how we had been. Her passionate love-making. Her sweet words. The way we had such fun together. I had appreciated it at the time, but now, six years later, I missed it with a raw ache inside me.
I should never have listened to Uncle. I should have followed my own heart.
I shifted my recollections away from how it felt to have her below me in bed and onto the conversation with Uncle. One of several, but the deciding one.
She will be better off. That as what he'd convinced me. That bringing Allie into my world – the suave, slick and shallow world of corporate business, with its lethal competition and its fast, ruthless dealings – would be cruel. She didn't belong there, he'd said. She was a sweet, innocent country girl. How could I think of pushing her into my harsh world?
“Let her go,” Uncle had said. “It's much better to be with someone who knows the ropes. Your aunt Sheridan and I – we come from the same world too.”
I had believed him.
I hurt myself so badly the day I walked away from her.
I hadn't been brave enough to face Allie. I couldn't do it. I'd sent the heartbreaking letter in the mail and closed my eyes and cried. Then I'd decided not to look back anymore. I'd ruthlessly purged my mobile of her number, mail and address. I'd gotten rid of anything that would remind me of anything to do with that blissful time we'd had together. Even so, it was hard.
And now it was harder.
I hadn't managed to do what Uncle had advised me – despite both of our best efforts, the relationship with me and Carrie never really got going. Six years on and we'd finally decided we should stop hurting ourselves.
I was relieved. So was she. Our guardians were furious.
We had gone our separate ways now but I still chatted with her and I had been pleased when I heard she was dating Wallace Napier, a baseball star. I thought she'd like that lifestyle.
“Now I'm free,” I murmured.
“What, sir?”
“Nothing,” I said dully. “Just distracted.”
I was free to make my own way ahead and this time I wasn't going to let uncle or anyone else persuade me my heart was wrong. But it seemed I'd come to valuing my own heart and my own convictions too late on. Allie hated me and I doubted she'd stick around and let me convince her I wasn't a jerk after all: I was too late.
CHAPTER FOUR
Allie
The bakery was quiet, the slow, early-morning quiet that I usually relished. Out in the street I could hear a truck back up but besides the sound of that, there was peace and stillness.
This is the time I like best.
I looked forward to this usually. But now I felt nothing but a sorrowful emptiness.
I didn't need a reminder. What the hell am I supposed to do. What now?
Seeing Drew had evoked the weirdest response in me. I just simply didn't know what to think. It felt as if my thoughts were a TV screen and someone had sneaked in and pulled out the connecting cable. My mind was an empty blank, as if my whole world didn't know what to do next.
“Ms. Hendricks?”
I turned around to face Marcelle. “Yes?” I asked. My mood must have shown on my face more than I thought, because Marcelle's high, well-groomed eyebrows arched down sharply.
“Mrs. Hendricks? You okay?”
I sighed. “Yes. I'm fine, Marcelle. What's up?”
“Just wondering what to start with first, Mrs. Hendricks. You see, I should get the pastries in first. But then we have that big order for this afternoon...”
“Oh, heck!” I snapped my fingers, my heart suddenly jumping. “The mayoral do-thing...I forgot!”
She chuckled. “I almost did too...thank Goodness for Post-its.”
I chuckled too. “Yeah, that's true. Well, I'll mix the batter for the cakes. You get started on the pastries. Is someone opening up in front?”
“Kelsey is.”
“Perfect.” I sighed. Sometimes, things figure themselves out. I reached for my apron and the flour, the recipe in my mind already so I only had to do it on autopilot.
If only everything else worked out that easily.
As I mixed the batter for the cakes, I found my mind thinking about Drew. He was just as stunning as I remembered. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed. And absolutely picture-perfect. I felt my insides start to respond as I recalled things about him. How it felt to lie in his arms. How his hand had felt, stroking my hair. How he kissed.
“Mrs. Hendricks?”
“Yeah?” I asked briskly.
“Coffee and already two orders for pastries.”
“Oh. Heck. How are they doing?” I called to Marcelle, who nodded.
“Sure, Mrs. Hendricks. Rising great. Should be ten more minutes.”
“Great. Take the coffees out now, please, Kelsey.”
“Coming up, Ms. Hendricks.”
“Awesome. Now where has that sieve got to?”
I prepared the batter and started to set out the cupcake liners. Our bakery had a color scheme of peach and white – soft ice-cream colors that matched the sign out front. I was using those colors in the cupcake-papers and they'd be echoed in the icing.
“Ms. Hendricks?”
“Uh huh?”
“Phone-call.”
“Coming...” my voice trailed off. “Can you take over with the ladle?”
“Sure, Ms. Hendricks.”
I headed over to the corner of the bustling, sweet-smelling kitchen, and took the call. “Hello?”
“Ms. Hendricks? Hi… it's me.”
“Hi, Trent?” It was the guy who drove my van.
“Ms. Hendricks, I'm sorry, but I'm sick. I can't make it today...” he trailed off and I sighed. I could hear how sore his throat must be – he was rasping and croaky and if I thought back to yesterday, he'd been sick then.
“I understand,” I said softly. “Just make sure you come back with a doctor's certificate, okay?” I added. It was one thing to let the guy off for a day – I didn't want him coming to work with a cold, besides anyth
ing else – but I needed to make sure no-one got the wrong idea. Just skipping days without notice wasn't something I wanted them all doing. I sighed.
“Sure thing, Ms. Hendricks.”
“Great. And, get well soon.”
“I'll try.”
He put the phone down as he started coughing and I stretched my back wearily. I could do without someone sneezing on the product, but that was the best that could be said. I needed a driver. Now I'd have to take the deliveries round myself.
“Well, I'll just have to.”
No point in arguing about what couldn't be altered.
I headed back into the main body of the kitchen.
“Marcelle?”
“Yes?” she called from the back, lifting hot pastries out of the oven and filling the room with a mouth-watering baking aroma.
“Take over from me at three this afternoon, huh? I'll need to drive the van to the party tent.”
“Okay, Ms. Hendricks,” she nodded. “Here we go,” she added to Kelsey, passing the girl two pastries arranged on doily-covered side-plates. “Super fresh.”