Holly's Heart Collection One (45 page)
Andie walked me to Aspen Street, where we said good-bye. She wished me luck with Lucas and made me promise to tell her every thrilling detail.
Downtown, the souvenir shops bustled with end-of-summer tourists. I caught my reflection in the donut-shop window as I made my way to the Explore Bookstore. Pushing my shoulders back, I snickered at the shapely look I’d achieved with a wad of tissues stuffed in all the right places. No question, I appeared older than thirteen.
As I waited for the light to change, I heard Jared Wilkins’ voice behind me. “Holly, is that you?”
I kept facing forward as I heard him running to catch up with me. I ignored the traffic light, hoping to lose Jared in the shuffle of cars and people.
“Wait, Holly! Watch out!” he shouted.
A car swerved. I kept running, raising my left hand to protect my perfect French twist. Only half a block more to the bookstore.
Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Jared whirled me around. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there.”
“What do you want?” I said, anger and embarrassment boiling up inside me.
He stepped back, a perplexed look on his handsome face. “Well, well, what is
this
?”
“None of your business, that’s what. Now, leave me alone.”
“You look absolutely dazzling, Miss Meredith,” he said, his eyes focusing on my hair. “I’ve never seen you look so, uh…”
“Grown-up?” I said.
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! You look much older. But why?”
“Please excuse me,” I said, pushing past him.
“Going my way?” he asked.
“I hope not,” I said, cringing inside. Jared would blow my cover for sure. It would serve me right for thinking I could pull off such deception.
“Man, Holly, you’re acting so strange.”
I looked at my watch.
Five minutes to go.
“Will you
please
get lost?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he said, backing away. “If it means that much to you, I’m outta here. See you at school tomorrow.”
I stood there close to tears as Jared turned and walked away. He was right—I
was
acting strange. So strange I hardly recognized myself.
Dreadful apprehension—and a bit of determination—flared up inside me as I headed for the bookstore.
The place hummed with people, overflowing with quiet conversation and occasional laughter. Ferns and ivy hung in potted baskets from the ceiling. Bamboo chairs were scattered around for book-inspecting by prospective buyers.
Then I saw him…Lucas Leigh. My summer pen pal was unmistakeable.
Quickly, I hid in the corner, behind one of the high-backed bamboo chairs. There, I was able to observe him privately. Wearing navy blue dress pants and a light blue dress shirt, he seemed older than his picture. And attentive to each of the fans waiting in line.
I felt really ridiculous hiding in this outrageous getup. Pulling a tiny mirror from my purse, I checked my makeup. The new Holly smiled back at me, French twist and all. Thoughts of honesty crept into my mind, spoiling the moment. I felt jittery. Even sinful.
I glanced at the wide table where Lucas stood beside a stack of Marty Leigh’s most recent book. My favorite author wore a bright green two-piece dress with pearl earrings. She was signing a book for an obvious fan. The girl watched her, apparently awestruck.
Feeling as shy as the girl looked, I drew a deep breath and stood up. It was now or never.
SEALED WITH A KISS
I tried to move but stood frozen behind the chair. Then something inside me popped loose. The truth! It was time to let it emerge. I began pulling the pins out of my French twist on the way to the ladies’ room. Inside, I searched for a brush in my purse and some tissues to wipe off the eye makeup.
“Please, Lord, forgive me,” I whispered as I shook my hair free. Frantically, I washed away the heavy makeup. Next I pulled out the tissue wads, revealing my own true shape, such as it was.
Stepping back, I admired the real Holly Meredith in the mirror. Perfect.
Then, taking a deep breath, I left the rest room and marched toward Lucas Leigh and the book-signing event. I waited in line like the others, and when it was my turn at the book table, I said, “Hello, Lucas. I’m Holly Meredith.”
He looked a bit surprised but shook my hand and introduced me to his aunt. “Marty, this is Holly, the writer of ‘Love Times Two.’ ”
“So very pleased to meet you, Holly,” she said, smiling broadly.
My heart pounding, I shook hands with Marty Leigh.
Lucas seemed confused. “I hardly recognized you, Holly. You looked much older in your picture,” he said. “I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” I confessed. “I must tell both of you the truth about myself. I’m really only thirteen and a half. I shouldn’t have misled you. I guess I wanted to impress you.”
Miss Leigh smiled warmly. “Holly, dear, you don’t have to impress me. I’m already impressed with you.”
“You are?” I felt self-conscious with Lucas staring at me.
“Oh yes,” she said. “You have a marvelous talent, my dear. And thirteen or thirty, I plan to help you get published.” She touched her single strand of pearls.
Lucas nodded, smiling. “I hope you can join us for lunch, Holly.”
“I’d like that,” I said, surprised at his kindhearted reaction to the real me. The line of people was growing longer behind me. I reached for my overnight case, filled with many Leigh mysteries. “I’d be honored if you’d sign these,” I said.
She wrote her name in each novel, just as it had appeared in the handwriting book Danny and I discovered at the library. When she finished, I thanked her generously. Then Lucas escorted me upstairs to the coffee shop while my favorite author of all time continued to sign books and greet her adoring fans.
“My aunt will join us soon,” Lucas said, leading me to a table near the windows. “How’s this?”
“Fine, thanks,” I said as he pulled out the chair for me.
“You certainly don’t write like a thirteen-year-old,” he said, handing the menu to me. “Your story was better than most of the stories my college classmates write.”
“Thanks.” I blushed, which was probably a good thing, after scrubbing all that makeup off. About now, I could use a little color on my face.
“It’s true,” he said, reading the menu. “Please, order whatever you’d like.”
“How about a cheeseburger with everything on it?”
“Just what my younger sister usually orders.”
“Really? You never mentioned her in your letters,” I said, realizing how dumb my comment was, especially since a considerable amount of info had been missing from
my
letters, as well.
“How old is she?” I asked.
“Almost thirteen, and she loves to write. Especially letters.”
“Think she’d want a pen pal?”
“Good idea,” he said, smiling.
Soon Marty Leigh joined us, presenting a copy of her latest book to me. She ordered ginger ale for us, then proposed a toast. “Here’s to
Sealed With a Kiss.
” She raised her glass. “To the first issue.”
In great detail, she explained her plan to include my short story in the November issue of the magazine.
“Are you willing to do some rewriting?” she asked.
“Whatever it takes.” I felt giddy.
“That’s the spirit,” she said, taking another sip. “What do you think of the magazine title?”
“It’s perfect,” I said, pushing my hair back and letting it hang down behind my chair. I felt so good about going through with the truth. Maybe I’d write a book about this crazy day. Someday. For now, I’d have to record every amazing facet in my journal.
That evening, I told Mom all about my thrilling day, especially the part about the new magazine.
“
Sealed With a Kiss
will be out in three months,” I told her. “I can’t wait to see my story in print.”
“Our Holly-Heart is going to be a published writer,” she said, reaching for my hands and dancing around the kitchen with me.
“How much money will you get for it?” Carrie asked.
“Wait and see.” I laughed as Goofey arched his kitty back and meowed under the desk.
When all the hoopla died down, I excused myself and slipped off to my bedroom. What an incredible day this had been. In more ways than one!
Perched on my beloved window seat, I listened to my heart. And I wrote my answer to Danny Myers’ important question.
To
Aleta Hirschberg,
my sweet Auntie ’Leta,
whose mother-heart
has touched hundreds
of Kansas schoolchildren
…and me.
THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS
A bad case of curiosity caused me to tiptoe down the hall to Mom’s bedroom. Holding my breath, I listened for the slightest sound of early morning activity. No way would Mom allow my snooping. Not in a zillion years.
My fingers touched the cool doorknob as I glanced over my shoulder, ears straining. All clear. Slowly the door glided open, and I crept into her rose-colored room, neat as always.
Scanning the room, I spotted Mom’s latest greeting card from Uncle Jack. The pretty card stood on the antique pine dresser beside the lamp. I reached for it, a twinge of guilt tickling my conscience.
Pink rosebuds danced around the edges of the romantic card. Dying of curiosity, I turned to the inside. Just as I thought. The note at the bottom confirmed my suspicions. I read the words
I’m counting the hours till I see you again, Susan. Love, Jack.
A red ink heart twinkled up at me. Uncle Jack was no artist, but the happy face in the middle said it all: Jack Patterson was in love with my mom!
Creak!
The steps! My heart pounded as I put the card down near the ceramic lamp. I crept to the door and peeked through the crack. Mom had reached the top step and was making the turn into the hallway leading to her room.
Yikes!
I stepped backward, away from the door, darting here and there searching for a hiding place. But where to hide? In a flash I scampered into Mom’s walk-in closet. I spied her huge clothes hamper.
She’ll never find me here,
I thought.
Then, slithering inside, I yanked the dirty clothes out from under me and covered myself with them as I waited, listening.
“Holly-Heart! Time to get up for school,” Mom called at my door, halfway down the hall. Lucky for me I’d left my bedroom door shut. Even if I didn’t answer, she wouldn’t call me again, at least not for a while.
I could hear her soft footsteps on the carpet as she approached her room. Inside, she hummed, swooshing the curtains aside.
She’s in some fabulous mood today,
I thought, secretly congratulating myself on finding the perfect hiding place.
One of Mom’s pet peeves was nosy people. She wouldn’t be singing now if she discovered me snooping. I could almost see her, wearing one of her many wool skirts with a sweater or blouse to match, her shoulder-length blond hair swept up or back, away from her face. She was probably settling down for her devotions about now. I could almost hear the pages of her Bible turning as she found the verses for the day.
Mom loved her morning quiet time. It felt good to know she took time to spend with God before going to work at the law firm where she was a paralegal. It hadn’t always been that way, though. But now all of us were Christians. All except Daddy…and his new wife.
Good thing there were tiny slats in the side of the hamper, or I’d be suffocating by now. My legs were scrunched. How much longer? Sooner or later Mom would be wondering why I wasn’t up and in the shower.
Br-r-ing!
I jumped as Mom answered the phone. Lifting the lid, I eavesdropped. Mom would freak out for sure if she knew I was here.
“Good morning, Jack,” Mom cooed.
In spite of the pain of being hampered in like this, I grinned. Things were perfect. Mom was dating my favorite living relative. His former wife, my aunt Marla, had been Daddy’s sister.
She
used to be my all-time favorite relative, but she’d died of cancer last February, three days before my thirteenth birthday. It was a nightmare for all of us…as bad as when Daddy divorced Mom.
Last month Uncle Jack surprised us when he moved his consulting business from Pennsylvania to Dressel Hills, our ski resort town in the middle of the Colorado Rockies. Best of all, Stan, Phil, Mark, and little Stephie—our cousins—were only a few blocks away. And Mom was happier than ever. Well, at least as happy as when Daddy lived here.