Second Chance Girl
Page 19
If only they were talking about sex, but they weren’t. At least she wasn’t. “You have no way of knowing that.”
“Your grandmother tells me things in her letters. She worried that the responsibility was too much for you.” She hesitated. “She was afraid it was impacting your marriage.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not prying or asking, I’m just sharing.”
“My father’s death was hard on everyone, but not the reason for my divorce.” If only it had been—the blame would have been easier to deal with. As it was, he’d never been sure what he was supposed to say.
She reached for her small handbag and pulled out a thick piece of paper. “I want to show you something, although now that I think about it, I should probably have waited for you to have your cocktail first.” She smiled. “You know, to dull the edges.”
“Now I’m curious.”
She turned over the paper and he saw it was a photograph of a young woman standing in front of Battenberg Park. She had frizzy red hair, blotchy skin and the gawky, awkward stance of someone not comfortable in her own skin. Braces showed through her tentative smile. She was, by all definitions, not pretty, and he had absolutely no recollection of her.
“This is you?”
She nodded. “During my unfortunate phase. I was fourteen.”
“You were lovely.”
“More lies. Shame on you.” She took back the picture. “My mother and I attended a summer party at your house. To my mind, it was nearly a ball. You danced with me and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered that one day I would be a beauty.” She glanced at him, then away. “You were very charming and that night I fell madly in love with you...in a very shallow, young teen sort of way.”
He was torn between being pleased he’d acted in a way that would have made his father proud of him and regret that even her words couldn’t produce a memory. There had been many parties in the summer, many young ladies with whom he’d danced.
“I was right,” he said instead. “About you growing into a beauty. I’m nearly always right.”
She laughed. Their server returned with their drinks and they touched them together in a toast.
“Where are you staying?” she asked when she’d taken a sip of her cosmopolitan.
“The Sweet Dreams Inn.” He did his best not to shudder. “I’m in the Drive-in Room. My bed is an old Cadillac and my television is the size of a drive-in screen.”
“The Pride and Prejudice room wasn’t available?”
“I didn’t ask. And please, do not compare me to Mr. Darcy.”
“Does it happen too much or do you dislike falling short?”
He held in a smile. “You’re very hard on me.”
“I think you’ve earned it, but as it’s obviously too much for you, I’ll stop now.”
“You’re so generous.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s a burden.” She leaned toward him. “What do you know about our town?”
“This one?” He looked around at the restaurant. “It caters to weddings, which seems strange. But from the little I’ve read, it’s a wedding destination town.”
“It is. In the 1950s, the town was dying. Seriously, there was no industry and people were leaving. The man who owned the main bank, a man with seven daughters, by the way, knew that if the town died, he would lose everything, so he decided to take a really big gamble. He started telling a story about how the town was founded. That during the Gold Rush, a stagecoach full of mail-order brides, destined for the gold fields, was stranded in town. By the time the parts arrived to fix their stagecoach, they’d all fallen madly in love and made their homes here. Everyone liked the story, the name of the town was changed and the rest is history.”
He’d heard a few things about the town’s past, but hadn’t paid much attention. “None of it is real? He made up the past completely?”
“Every word. A couple of big name stars got married here and ever since, we’ve been a wedding destination town. There’s a sleep center outside of town and a handful of businesses that don’t support the wedding industry, but the rest of us live in service of brides.”
“You know there is generally a groom when there’s a marriage.”
She waved her hand. “No one cares about him. It’s the bride’s day. Oh, you could do theme weddings at Battenberg Park. Something with a Pride and Prejudice flair.”
He groaned. “Stop, I beg you. Why are American women mesmerized with that book?”
“It’s not the book.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s Mr. Darcy. How I dislike that man. I had several meetings with a production company in Los Angeles and all the women were obsessed with him. I doubt Jane Austen knew what she was creating.”
“Probably not and I would guess that’s for the best.” She lowered her voice. “I suspect our obsession, as you call it, isn’t proper.”
She was delightful, Ulrich thought. Bright, funny, sexy as hell. There was a vitality he found appealing. Violet Lund was so much more than he’d expected. Accusing her of stealing might have been the smartest thing he’d ever done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAROL WAITED UNTIL the night staff arrived to pack up for the day. She’d already inventoried the delivery of marionberry leaf-eater biscuits that had arrived. They were ridiculously expensive, but Millie loved them, so they were ordered. If the giraffe didn’t have friends at the moment, she should at least have a happy tummy.
After turning off her computer, Carol got into her car and headed home. The late afternoon was perfect—warm and sunny. It would cool down that evening and by dawn it would be (relatively) cold—fall had arrived in the desert. To her mind, it was one of the most beautiful seasons, not that she had many complaints about the weather in Happily Inc. Yes, summer could be a little toasty, but it was a small price to pay for how great it was the rest of the year.
She drove along the road, only to slow when she saw a familiar man walking a happy, tail-wagging beagle. The man had a way about him, she thought with resignation as he approached the car.
“The cows settled for the night?” he asked.
“They are. Want a ride home?”
“It defeats the purpose of taking my loaner dog for a walk.”
“Is that a no?”
“Just an observation.”
He got in, then patted his lap. Sophie jumped in and scrambled up on him so that she could see out the front windshield. Mathias snapped his seat belt in place, put one protective arm around the dog and smiled at Carol.
“We’re ready.”
The smile hit her like a hoof to the belly with an uncomfortable combination of surprise and impact. No, no, no, she told herself firmly. Thinking Mathias was hunky was one thing—it was more of an intellectual exercise—like appreciating great art. But going further—stepping into that crazy I want him world was not allowed. Not only would it be a complete disaster, she would have to deal with the aftermath for the rest of her life. They were neighbors. She could see his house from her house. The town was small, their lives entwined and no. Just plain no.
She continued down the road, all the while explaining to her wayward emotions that being stupid wasn’t an option. After a couple of minutes, she realized her normally highly verbal passenger hadn’t said a word.
“Your grandmother tells me things in her letters. She worried that the responsibility was too much for you.” She hesitated. “She was afraid it was impacting your marriage.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not prying or asking, I’m just sharing.”
“My father’s death was hard on everyone, but not the reason for my divorce.” If only it had been—the blame would have been easier to deal with. As it was, he’d never been sure what he was supposed to say.
She reached for her small handbag and pulled out a thick piece of paper. “I want to show you something, although now that I think about it, I should probably have waited for you to have your cocktail first.” She smiled. “You know, to dull the edges.”
“Now I’m curious.”
She turned over the paper and he saw it was a photograph of a young woman standing in front of Battenberg Park. She had frizzy red hair, blotchy skin and the gawky, awkward stance of someone not comfortable in her own skin. Braces showed through her tentative smile. She was, by all definitions, not pretty, and he had absolutely no recollection of her.
“This is you?”
She nodded. “During my unfortunate phase. I was fourteen.”
“You were lovely.”
“More lies. Shame on you.” She took back the picture. “My mother and I attended a summer party at your house. To my mind, it was nearly a ball. You danced with me and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered that one day I would be a beauty.” She glanced at him, then away. “You were very charming and that night I fell madly in love with you...in a very shallow, young teen sort of way.”
He was torn between being pleased he’d acted in a way that would have made his father proud of him and regret that even her words couldn’t produce a memory. There had been many parties in the summer, many young ladies with whom he’d danced.
“I was right,” he said instead. “About you growing into a beauty. I’m nearly always right.”
She laughed. Their server returned with their drinks and they touched them together in a toast.
“Where are you staying?” she asked when she’d taken a sip of her cosmopolitan.
“The Sweet Dreams Inn.” He did his best not to shudder. “I’m in the Drive-in Room. My bed is an old Cadillac and my television is the size of a drive-in screen.”
“The Pride and Prejudice room wasn’t available?”
“I didn’t ask. And please, do not compare me to Mr. Darcy.”
“Does it happen too much or do you dislike falling short?”
He held in a smile. “You’re very hard on me.”
“I think you’ve earned it, but as it’s obviously too much for you, I’ll stop now.”
“You’re so generous.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s a burden.” She leaned toward him. “What do you know about our town?”
“This one?” He looked around at the restaurant. “It caters to weddings, which seems strange. But from the little I’ve read, it’s a wedding destination town.”
“It is. In the 1950s, the town was dying. Seriously, there was no industry and people were leaving. The man who owned the main bank, a man with seven daughters, by the way, knew that if the town died, he would lose everything, so he decided to take a really big gamble. He started telling a story about how the town was founded. That during the Gold Rush, a stagecoach full of mail-order brides, destined for the gold fields, was stranded in town. By the time the parts arrived to fix their stagecoach, they’d all fallen madly in love and made their homes here. Everyone liked the story, the name of the town was changed and the rest is history.”
He’d heard a few things about the town’s past, but hadn’t paid much attention. “None of it is real? He made up the past completely?”
“Every word. A couple of big name stars got married here and ever since, we’ve been a wedding destination town. There’s a sleep center outside of town and a handful of businesses that don’t support the wedding industry, but the rest of us live in service of brides.”
“You know there is generally a groom when there’s a marriage.”
She waved her hand. “No one cares about him. It’s the bride’s day. Oh, you could do theme weddings at Battenberg Park. Something with a Pride and Prejudice flair.”
He groaned. “Stop, I beg you. Why are American women mesmerized with that book?”
“It’s not the book.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s Mr. Darcy. How I dislike that man. I had several meetings with a production company in Los Angeles and all the women were obsessed with him. I doubt Jane Austen knew what she was creating.”
“Probably not and I would guess that’s for the best.” She lowered her voice. “I suspect our obsession, as you call it, isn’t proper.”
She was delightful, Ulrich thought. Bright, funny, sexy as hell. There was a vitality he found appealing. Violet Lund was so much more than he’d expected. Accusing her of stealing might have been the smartest thing he’d ever done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAROL WAITED UNTIL the night staff arrived to pack up for the day. She’d already inventoried the delivery of marionberry leaf-eater biscuits that had arrived. They were ridiculously expensive, but Millie loved them, so they were ordered. If the giraffe didn’t have friends at the moment, she should at least have a happy tummy.
After turning off her computer, Carol got into her car and headed home. The late afternoon was perfect—warm and sunny. It would cool down that evening and by dawn it would be (relatively) cold—fall had arrived in the desert. To her mind, it was one of the most beautiful seasons, not that she had many complaints about the weather in Happily Inc. Yes, summer could be a little toasty, but it was a small price to pay for how great it was the rest of the year.
She drove along the road, only to slow when she saw a familiar man walking a happy, tail-wagging beagle. The man had a way about him, she thought with resignation as he approached the car.
“The cows settled for the night?” he asked.
“They are. Want a ride home?”
“It defeats the purpose of taking my loaner dog for a walk.”
“Is that a no?”
“Just an observation.”
He got in, then patted his lap. Sophie jumped in and scrambled up on him so that she could see out the front windshield. Mathias snapped his seat belt in place, put one protective arm around the dog and smiled at Carol.
“We’re ready.”
The smile hit her like a hoof to the belly with an uncomfortable combination of surprise and impact. No, no, no, she told herself firmly. Thinking Mathias was hunky was one thing—it was more of an intellectual exercise—like appreciating great art. But going further—stepping into that crazy I want him world was not allowed. Not only would it be a complete disaster, she would have to deal with the aftermath for the rest of her life. They were neighbors. She could see his house from her house. The town was small, their lives entwined and no. Just plain no.
She continued down the road, all the while explaining to her wayward emotions that being stupid wasn’t an option. After a couple of minutes, she realized her normally highly verbal passenger hadn’t said a word.
