Mystic Park (8 page)

Benita regarded him in silence for a beat. “You want me to be your girl Friday?”

Vaughn had a premonition of danger. “You'd be more than that—like a production manager.”

Benita stood, glancing toward the vent near the ceiling. She kept her voice low. “You want me to help you manage your play while you're dating Doctor Stark?”

“What does one have to do with the other?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, Vaughn wanted them back.

Benita gave him a stony stare. “Let's think this through. You want me to help you with your play like a
friend
, while you're
romancing
someone else.”

Vaughn spread his arms. “Benny, we broke up.”

“Then why are you here?”

Vaughn rubbed a hand over his head. He rose from the love seat. “I really don't know.” He collected his jacket from the coatrack. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”

He let himself out of Ms. Helen's home without looking back. Vaughn was more disappointed than he had a right to be. He'd known Benita wouldn't work with him on the play. Darius's idea had been a good one. It just couldn't work.

And now Vaughn had to start from scratch, teaching his body to forget her again.

 

 

“What did Vaughn want?” Ms. Helen wandered into the kitchen maybe seven minutes later. That hadn't taken her long.

Benita had finished straightening the kitchen—there hadn't been much to do—and she'd decided to make biscuits to go with their dinner of chicken and green beans.

“You couldn't hear us through the vent in your room?” Benita used a fork to crush butter into a mixture of flour and salt.

“Don't take your frustration out on me.” Ms. Helen pulled out a chair from under the kitchen table and sat.

Benita met her great-aunt's gaze from over her left shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not surprised that you won't help him with his musical.” Ms. Helen's voice was devoid of embarrassment.

Benita sighed with resignation. Her great-aunt was a law unto herself. She spun the mixing bowl to continue crushing the butter into the flour and salt. “Can you believe his nerve?”

Ms. Helen made a noncommittal hum.

Benita released her fork. She turned to the refrigerator and selected an egg, then grabbed a mug from a cupboard. “He dumped me because I won't move back to Trinity Falls. Then, in the blink of an eye, he starts dating this woman who's gorgeous and obviously brilliant. Too smart for him. And I feel sorry for her when she realizes it.”

“Vaughn's a very smart man.”

Benita snorted. She broke the egg into a cup, beat it, then poured it into her mixing bowl. She cradled the bowl as she combined the ingredients. “If he's so smart, what made him think I'd help him with his play?”

“Before you were lovers, you were friends. Maybe he hopes you could be friends again.”

Benita cleaned off a section of the counter on which to knead the biscuit dough. She swallowed back emotion and blinked back tears. “Well, he was wrong.”

Benita didn't want to be Vaughn's friend. She wanted to be his lover, his wife, with all the ups and downs, and pain and pleasure that entailed. She wanted to take their relationship to its next, logical step: moving to L.A. together. But he'd said no. No to leaving Trinity Falls, and no to a future with her.

Ms. Helen continued her musings. “If it's not friendship you're after, helping him with his play gives you a perfect cover to try to get him back.”

Benita stopped kneading the dough and considered her great-aunt's words. She turned to the older woman. “You're brilliant.”

“I'll remind you that you said that.”

Benita took in Ms. Helen's self-satisfied expression. Theirs was a discussion for another day. For now, Benita needed to speak with a man about a play.

CHAPTER 9

After dinner, Benita drove to Vaughn's apartment. She parked in the visitor section and walked across the lot.

The evening was still and quiet. Couples, families, and a handful of solitary residents strolled the streets for postdinner exercise. In L.A., car stereos often shattered the peace as vehicles sped past her condo. Here, the night held whispered conversations, greetings to neighbors, and bursts of laughter.

Benita rang the doorbell of Vaughn's first-floor apartment. She felt a moment's tension. What if he wasn't alone? Would he invite Olivia Stark to his home for dinner? Maybe he wasn't even here. He could be having dinner with Dr. Stark at her place. Benita gasped at the sudden sharp pain to her heart.

After what seemed an eternity, Vaughn opened his door.

“I've changed my mind.” She blurted the announcement. “I'll help you with your play.”

Vaughn's eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with suspicion. “What made you change your mind?”

Benita hadn't expected that question. She stalled for time. “If we're going to discuss this, may I come in?”

“Actually, I apologize.” Vaughn stepped back to let Benita into his home. “It doesn't matter why you changed your mind. I'm just glad you decided to help me.”

She was off the hook. “You're welcome.”

“I'm donating the proceeds from the musical to the Guiding Light Community Center.” Vaughn closed and locked the door.

Benita regarded her longtime lover with new eyes as she followed him to his living room. He was using his lifelong dream to help the community. Could he be any more wonderful? “What made you decide to do that?”

“I told you I was on the center's fund-raising committee. Olivia and I were in charge of the registration database.” Vaughn gestured toward his navy blue sofa and waited for her to sit.

Another stab of jealousy. Benita sat before her knees gave out under the pain. “I remember you telling me about the committee. I also read about the fund-raiser in the online edition of the
Monitor
.”

Benita had been proud of Vaughn's participation in the project. But that pride was now tempered by the knowledge that he'd worked closely with the woman he was now romancing.

Urgh, the thought of the two of them together is enough to make me run screaming out of his apartment.
Benita cleared her mind of everything but Vaughn's play.

“I enjoyed the experience.” Vaughn leaned back onto the sofa's opposite corner. “We raised a lot of money, but it wasn't enough.”

“With organizations like the center, one fund-raiser is never enough.” Benita angled her body toward Vaughn. “It needs constant donations.”

“I'm hoping this play will help. The grant I got will allow me to do that.”

“What have you done so far to prepare for the play?” Benita crossed her legs. Vaughn's eyes followed the movement. She was glad she'd changed out of her slacks and into the floral midcalf skirt. He'd always had a fondness for her legs.

“I posted an announcement that the audition was coming.”

“I saw it on your bulletin board.” Benita frowned. “It didn't have a schedule.”

“I don't know when I'll have time to hold them, but I wanted people to know they were coming.”

Benita raised her eyebrows. “That doesn't actually do any good unless people know when they're coming. When do you want the production to open?”

“June thirteenth.”

Benita sat straighter on the sofa. Disbelief sent her thoughts into chaos. “Why June thirteenth? Today's already April thirteenth.”

“I want to perform the play before people leave Trinity Falls for their summer vacation.”

“But that gives you only two months.”

“Classes are over May eighth and grades are due May fifteenth.” Vaughn spread his hands. “I'll have the rest of that time to concentrate completely on the play.”

“Oh, great, four whole weeks.” Benita stood to pace Vaughn's living room. “What is going on with the people in this town? Why does everyone think they can plan events overnight?” She threw up her arms and spun to face him. “Did someone get a time machine and not tell me about it?”

“I want as many people as possible to attend the play.”

“No one considers what goes into planning an event. This is like Doreen and Alonzo choosing their wedding date without thinking about what goes into planning the wedding.” Benita paced past his flat screen television.

Her movements were jerky with irritation as she turned away from his ebony stereo system, which stood beside a tower of compact discs. She walked toward his dual front windows, framed with navy blue drapes. She'd been with Vaughn when he'd bought those drapes. She'd encouraged him to buy them but not the sofa or its matching armchair.

“I need a date that's convenient for the community.” Vaughn spread his arms. “What good is a fund-raiser if no one comes to it?”

Benita threw her arms in the air again. “These things take time to plan and prepare if you want to do them well.”

Vaughn rose. He cut off her path back to his stereo and massive collection of music. Benita came to an abrupt halt in the face of his broad chest tightly wrapped in a gunmetal gray T-shirt. She used to love the way he looked in that T-shirt. But now that their relationship was hands-off, she was tempted to burn it.

Vaughn gave her his persuasive smile, the one he'd been using on her since high school. “And just like Alonzo and Doreen, I have complete confidence in your ability to help me pull this off.”

Benita barely heard him. The thought of another person touching that well-muscled chest or tasting those finely molded lips made her want to bare her claws. She spun on her heels and strode back to the sofa. She dropped onto its stingy cushions—seriously, Vaughn should have left the furniture choices to her—and crossed her legs.

“
Mystic Park
is based on Caribbean folklore. Is that right?” Benita adjusted her skirt over her knee. Vaughn's attention to her calves eased some of her irritation.

“That's right.” Vaughn joined her on the couch, careful to keep his distance. Was he afraid she was going to bite? “It's a romance about a mortal man whose love for a water fairy brings the wrath of a powerful water nymph.”

“I remember.” Benita had been fascinated by the myths Vaughn's West Indian parents had told him as a child. She'd been thrilled when he'd decided to base his musical on some of these stories. Over the years, she'd begun to despair of his ever doing anything with his talent and hard work. But now that he was finally putting together his performance, they wouldn't be celebrating as a couple. Instead she was just a friend. For now.

“Thank you for encouraging me to finish the play.” Vaughn's eyes were as solemn as his words.

“I'm looking forward to reading it.” Benita stood. “We should get together tomorrow to start scheduling the audition and rehearsal dates. We also need to discuss the promotion.”

“I can't get together Tuesday night.” Vaughn rose with her. “I have other plans. Why don't we meet Wednesday?”

Other plans?
Did he have a date with Olivia Stark? Benita fisted her hands even as she forced a casual shrug. “If you think it can wait that long.”

“It'll have to.” Vaughn's direct gaze sent her a message:
We're not together anymore.

Her smile conveyed her response:
We're not done yet.

 

 

Doreen's shoulder muscles relaxed a little bit more as she completed another item from her wedding planning tasks, the invitation list. However, seated beside her on the sofa, Alonzo seemed even more uptight.

“You're inviting Nessa to your wedding?” Benita's question didn't make sense at first.

Doreen looked at Benita who sat on a nearby matching armchair. It was Tuesday evening. Benita had requested this meeting with Doreen and Alonzo in Doreen's home to review the status of their wedding plans. They only had nine weeks left.

“Don't look at me.” Alonzo lifted his hands in surrender.

Benita held Doreen's gaze. “Aunt Helen said, as council president, Nessa's been giving you a hard time.”

“I'm not inviting her as council president.” Doreen shrugged. “I'm inviting her as a neighbor.”

“Is that a good idea?” Benita looked dubious. “Nessa hasn't been very neighborly toward you for the past almost year-and-a-half, ever since you launched your mayoral campaign.”

“That's what I told her.” Alonzo rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind Doreen's head.

She looked at her fiancé. His coffee-colored eyes ensnared her.
How could he look at me with such warmth and admiration if he was having second thoughts about our wedding?
“And as I told you, I can't invite everyone on the council except her.”

“Then don't invite anyone on the council.” Alonzo shrugged. “They aren't your friends.”

Doreen shook her head even as Alonzo spoke. “I wouldn't feel right excluding them.”

Benita lifted her hand. “Are you sure you're comfortable with your decision?”

“Yes, I am.” Doreen nodded.

Alonzo grunted. “Then I hope she has the decency to decline the invitation.”

So do I.
Doreen looked to Benita. “The invitations look great. Between the three of us, we could have them addressed and in the mail tomorrow.”

“Make that the four of us.” Benita struggled with a grin. “Aunt Helen wants to help.”

Doreen chuckled. “The more the merrier.”

“We appreciate the help,” Alonzo agreed.

They discussed their menu and upcoming meeting with the caterer, the rehearsal dinner schedule, and the music selection for their reception.

Doreen shook her head in amazement. “Benita, I can't believe how much you've accomplished so quickly.”

“It's been fun.” Benita closed the wedding planner notebook, then stood, gathering her belongings.

Doreen rose as well. “We can't thank you enough.”

“You've done so much to help us.” Alonzo stood.

Together, Doreen and Alonzo escorted Benita to the front door, then wished her a good evening.

Doreen watched Alonzo secure the locks on the door. “She's been amazing.”

“I'm uncomfortable with her not taking any money.” Alonzo turned from the door. “She's done so much work.”

“I've been thinking of getting her a gift.” Doreen took a deep breath. “Thanks to her we'll have our June twentieth wedding.”

“Yes, we will.” Alonzo smiled as he stepped away from the door. His smile didn't reach his eyes.

“Are you happy about that?” Doreen fell into step beside him as they walked back to the living room.

“Of course.” To his credit, Alonzo seemed surprised by her question.

“You don't seem happy, Alonzo.”

He frowned but didn't return her gaze. “I'm just—”

“Tired.” Doreen repeated the excuse he'd been giving her for weeks.

He looked at her in surprise. “It was—”

“A long day.” She heard the rising irritation in her voice. He must have heard it also.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what to say.”

“The truth. That's all I'm asking for, Alonzo. Tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“That's not true.” Doreen stopped in front of the sofa but didn't sit. “I can see it in your eyes. I can sense it around you. Why won't you talk with me?”

“I
am
talking with you.”

“But you're not telling me anything.” Doreen wrapped her arms around her torso. “You're starting to scare me. What's so bad that you won't tell me?”

Alonzo held her upper arms in his strong, gentle hands. “I love you, Doreen. Is that enough?”

Doreen backed out of his embrace. “If you loved me, you'd share with me whatever's troubling you. But you're not doing that, so you tell me if it's enough.”

She turned on her heels and left the room. She didn't want to look at him while he continued to lie to her. What was she supposed to believe?

 

 

“Hi, Doctor Brooks, Doctor Stark. How are you?” The young hostess at Trinity Falls Cuisine, Kelsey, was a junior at TFU. She was well known and well respected on campus. The honors student seemed uncomfortable in her skinny black pants, starched white shirt, and narrow black tie.

“Fine, thank you,” Vaughn replied, aware that his appearance at the restaurant with Olivia Stark would be all over campus by tonight. He could hear it now, “Do you know that Doctor Brooks and Doctor Stark are
dating
?”

“Hi, Kelsey. I'm fine, thanks.” Olivia's pleased smile brightened her beautiful features. She gave the young woman a hug. “How are you?”

“I'm good.” Kelsey returned her professor's embrace, then stepped back. Her dark eyes were full of questions as they flash between Vaughn and Olivia. “Are you two here for dinner?”

“Yes, thank you.” Vaughn followed Kelsey and Olivia farther into the restaurant.

He'd been to Trinity Falls Cuisine three times since the restaurant had opened two years ago. Each time he'd been with Benita. Although he and Benita had ended their relationship, walking in here with another woman still felt wrong. Vaughn shrugged his shoulders to ease his sense of guilt. It didn't work.