Summertime Dream (28 page)

The clock hand inexorably marched forward.

He finished his coffee. “I have to go.” He wouldn’t ask her again. Not today. He patted Penny and stood.

“I know. I understand.”

There had to be something more meaningful he could do or say more than “I’ll call you.” But he couldn’t see any solution to their situation at this moment. All he could do was pour his love for her into this last kiss for as long as he could. The minutes kept ticking away and he had to release her, step away, and say those inadequate words, “I’ll miss you. Thank you, for everything. I—I’ll call.”

His
I love you
stuck in his throat.
I love you
made leaving just too hard.

She nodded, lips tight, fighting to give him a smile even as her eyes glimmered.

He put himself into the car. As he backed out of the driveway, she waved from the porch steps, Penny by her side, and he watched her in the rearview mirror until turning the corner stole her from sight.

The drive to the airport in Springfield flew by.

Yeah, remember when you were all fired up in a hurry to leave? When this place was too far from any place you wanted to be?

Returning the rental went smoothly, but the thunderstorm rolled in early and delayed his flight, making his connecting flight in Dallas-Ft. Worth a close call instead of a reasonable wait.

A new email from Nate arrived while he waited for the plane to finish loading. Nate had attached a picture of the whole group at Mohave posed toasting marshmallows and several candid shots. One caught a tender moment between Lloyd and JoAnn. How he’d always wanted what they’d found. He’d found it back in that little town.

Remorse slithered in. In his past, he’d deliberately settled for relationships that didn’t work. Wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. The real blame for those wrong relationships lay with himself. He’d used them to fill the loneliness as much as they’d used him. He could have said no. He could have learned from his mistakes. Just like them, he’d put his career first and his dreams last.

And, once again, he’d let career come first.

****

Early the following Thursday, Margie sat at her computer with a mug of coffee, intending to check her email and write for an hour before starting her day. And, yes, she was hoping for an email from Christopher. For the first time, she was glad Joe hadn’t let her come back to work until the seventeenth. If she was working again, she’d be subjected to their hovering all day long on top of the
I knew it and told you so
glares
Joe gave her at the breakfast table and Mom and Dad’s worried
be strong, sweetie
smiles and that would drive her more nuts than dealing with Christopher’s absence.

Nothing from Christopher, but an email from Stephanie waited in her inbox. Her hopes sprang and tears welled.

Dear Margie,

I miss you. I’m so sorry I have been out of touch. It has been a hard year. I know I have so much to explain. I promise to see you soon and we’ll talk then.

Love, Stephanie.

She
didn’t tell Joe or her parents about Stephanie’s email. She didn’t want to raise Mom and Dad’s hopes until she had seen Stephanie and had more facts. As for Joe, she’d wait to see if Stephanie had reached out to him first.

Cleaning over at Christopher’s went smoothly, but the surprise visits of two prospective buyers in the afternoon struck home the reality of her work here, leaving her completely dejected. Christopher was gone and she was going to lose the house as well. He had the property priced far too reasonably. Someone would leap at the bargain all too soon.

If only she could buy it.

A minor epiphany rocked her. What if she did? She had dismissed the idea weeks back when Christopher had off-handedly asked her if she was interested. Could she?

She settled in at the table in his office with her tablet and keyboard and explored the idea.

Two hours later, she sat back, defeated. Her bank balances told the ugly truth: no matter how creatively she played with the numbers, even if Christopher gave her a break on the price, there was no sane way she could pull off buying the house by herself.

She had one last, very long-shot idea: asking Joe to go in as a partner on the purchase with her. Together, it was feasible. Really, neither of them should still be living at home with their parents. If they bought the house together, as an investment, finances would still be tight, but he might like the idea. The Falk House was huge enough they’d have their own space. Having a project to distract him might be good. He was handy with power tools and he’d always liked tinkering with Dad on the repairs at home and the restaurant. He needed an outlet besides work and the fire station. This might be just the thing to help him move forward.

Her stomach churned. Of course, they still weren’t really speaking to each other yet and she’d being tying herself to Joe’s bossiness more than ever, but if it gained her the house...

No going to him in an emotional rush. He’d want facts and details. She set to work on drafting her proposal, gathering all the information she could think of needing to present him. His answer was likely to be no, but if she didn’t ask, the answer was most definitely no. Time to think positive.

Back at home, she showered and had a glass of wine as she printed out her plan and waited for Joe to come home.

Penny’s happy yip and race downstairs announced his arrival. Margie gathered her tidy but pitiful financial plan together and took a steadying breath. Okay, ready as she was going to get.

She found Joe downstairs in the living room, sprawled out on the recliner staring at one of his favorite cooking challenge shows. This was his night off from the restaurant, but he was on call for the station, so he had a cola in his hand instead of a beer. His ever-present bottle of antacids sat on the end table. She bit off the urge to nag him about the antacids and caffeine. His face was tired and drawn. Maybe she should rethink asking him tonight. Then again, this might be as close to catching him in a good mood as she could hope for these days.

She focused on keeping her voice chipper. “Hey, Joe, can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?” He muted the television.

No sour glare. So far, so good. She sank onto Dad’s chair, curling the papers in her hands. Oops. She smoothed them out and straightened her shoulders. “I’m really sorry about fighting with you.”

“I hate fighting with you too, sweetie, but I just can’t stand back and watch you get hurt. I won’t.” His face stayed stern, but the acid bite of recent days was missing from his tone.

“I wanted to ask you a big favor, make you a business proposition, really.” A sickly churn rolled through her stomach. She shoved the papers at him and her words spilled in a rush. “I was wondering, thinking, if we did it together, as an investment, we could buy the Falk House. And you’ve been talking on and off about getting a place of your own again. I think it would be a really good idea. It’s an incredibly reasonable price for that much property. I can’t do it by myself, but together, if we joined forces, it could work.”

His mouth twisted, like he was about to answer, and the impending no loomed in his face, but he paused and turned his attention to her papers, thoughtfully stroking his hand over his moustache as he read. The wait was excruciating. Maybe an immediate no would have been better.

He set the papers in his lap and looked up. “I know how you’re fond of that old house and all and yeah, it’s a really decent price...”

She sucked in her breath. “But...”

“But a place like that will be a massive money pit. I see you took repairs into account, you laid everything out here real good, but even if we tackled some of the repair and restoration ourselves to save on labor costs like you worked in here, the reality is an old place like that’s too much of a strain on both our budgets. The restaurant is doing good, thank God, but with the economy these days, we just can’t risk pushing things to the wire financially. A decent deposit for a good mortgage would gut our savings. I’m real sorry, sweetie, I have to say no.”

She forced a smile past the knot in her throat and prick of tears. “I understand.” She was prepared for no, but boy, no still hurt. “I had to try. Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe in a year. You and I can make a plan. I’ll help you sock some more money away for a good deposit and we’ll find you a nice little place.”

“It’s okay. Honest.” She headed for the door. “Try not to stay up too late. Get some rest, okay?”

“Margie, wait a sec?” His voice softened. “I know you told him you’d keep helping out, but maybe you need to stop going over there. It’s not your place. I don’t like you being alone there. I don’t like seeing it bringing you so down.”

“The work’s almost done. And, anyway, I promised.” Keeping busy helped. She could hang in there and wrap up readying the house. But knowing she had to let the place go soon forever… She swallowed hard. Boy, oh boy, she missed Christopher.

The aching resignation stayed with her the next morning as she let herself into the house. She paused in the quiet foyer. The warm, stifling air closed around her, reminding her of the first time they’d walked into the house. She missed the sound of his voice from the office and his jazz music. The place just wasn’t the same without Christopher. She wasn’t the same.

Tears spilled without warning and stirred her into motion. Enough. Darn it all, this mature, long-distance-style relationship stuff was for the birds. Quick sparse emails and hurried phone calls just weren’t cutting it.

After opening all the windows, she grabbed the vacuum cleaner and went after the newest crop of dust bunnies. Cleaning progressed briskly, until she reached Christopher’s bedroom. The quiet tidy room saddened her more than all the rubbishy others. He’d left the old maple bed neatly made. Clean towels waited in a neat stack on the dresser.

Memories poured over her. She’d found so much happiness and pleasure with him here. Loving, laughter, passion, and simple togetherness. She’d understood she’d miss him. She knew his absence was going to hurt. But Joe was right. Oh, how she hated that he’d been right. She was torturing herself by going every day to the house she’d fallen in love with along with Christopher.

She didn’t want to finish the packing of family papers and pictures for him. Without him.

She didn’t want to water the recovering flowerbeds alone.

She didn’t want to be just friends.

This hit her hard. But giving in to her misery and following Christopher to Los Angeles was not the solution either. She didn’t want to be in a strange city any more than in an empty house. She just wanted Christopher.

Okay, move it along here, stop moping, and get back to work
.

Once she’d finished vacuuming, she wanted to sort out the last drawers in Mrs. Falk’s bedroom. Then she could call the second floor done and move on to the third floor with the boys’ help tomorrow.

As she emptied and sorted the dresser drawer contents, she came across an antique beaded pincushion nestled in a pile of old-fashioned embroidered handkerchiefs. Holding the lovely sewing aid crafted out of velvet and satin and heavily embellished with sparkling silver glass beads, she imagined what living here must have been like back when the house was new. Instead of her comfy shorts and T-shirt, she’d have been wearing layers upon layers. A chemise, drawers, corset, petticoat, crinoline, a long-sleeved bodice, and a full skirt when the heat index was over a hundred? Elegant, possibly, hot, definitely. With all the windows open, the decent breeze made working on this steamy afternoon tolerable, but she sure wished Mrs. Falk had installed air conditioning. Next trip downstairs, she would bring up the box fan.

A car door shut out front, and a second car door followed as she reached the front hall window to look out. The silver haired man standing by a black SUV was a stranger, but Margie gasped as the second man belonging to the sporty blue car turned. Eddie?

No, no, no. Eddie couldn’t be interested in the house. He was living in Dallas. He was building his dream career in Dallas. He was living in Dallas with Jennifer, his
wife
.

Did Christopher know who his potential buyer was?

She couldn’t do this.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t hide either. Heat burned behind her eyes and her shoulders slumped. Fighting the sinking dread, she forced herself downstairs to the front door and out onto the porch.

The agent and Eddie stood in the front lawn studying some map-like papers.

The agent waved. “Hi, I’m Ray Baker. You must be Miss Olsson. Frank MacDonald mentioned you might be here working. How’s it going?”

Eddie jolted at her name and turned. Oh, now she truly understood love turning to ashes. Nothing but wooden discomfort remained in his face where once his love had sparkled.

She raised her chin against the urge to flee inside. Nothing remained in her heart but sorrow and the understanding their life-long connection was truly done and dead. How had this disconnect developed between them? How had the boy she’d loved so dearly become this stranger?

The agent blithely continued talking, unaware of the past between Eddie and her. “I’ll take Ed for a quick look inside the house and then we’ll walk the property. We’ll try to stay out of your hair while we’re here.”

“No, it’s fine. Take your time. I’ll be working on the second floor if you have any questions.”

She numbly returned inside. Accepting Christopher’s need to sell the place was one thing. Accepting that she couldn’t afford to make an offer was another thing. Eddie and Jennifer buying the house was entirely a thing she couldn’t bear.

She retreated to Reba’s room and returned to her sorting.

Eddie wanting to buy this shabby antique of a home made no sense. He liked new and modern and had little patience with repairs. He couldn’t possibly want to move back here. He’d wanted to be in Dallas for so long.

He couldn’t be doing this to hurt her, could he? Maybe some twisted male logic dog-in-the-manger thing? He knew her life-long fascination with the old house. Yes, she should have handled running into him the other day far better, but...What would she do if they really were moving back here? Years of future awkward encounters…