Ah, the wedding. It would be a civil ceremony, followed by dinner, at Elements. My parents were so happy it was surreal…the laughter, the flirting, the affection. Hester still looked at them with a mix of horror and amusement, but then again, that’s how we were all looking at her these days.
“Think you and Louis will tie the knot?” I asked her one day as we shopped for the girls’ dresses…red for Josephine, cream for Bronte.
“Nah,” Hester answered. “The girls and I do great together. Maybe when Bronte goes off to college, but if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right? And Louis likes having his own place. He has this collection of antique mortuary tools—”
“Okay, we’re done. Glad things are working out, Hes.”
“Thanks, Callie,” she said, slugging me affectionately on the shoulder, hard enough that I’d be sore in the morning. “Hey. Sorry you and Owen didn’t work out.”
“Ian. Thanks,” I said.
“How’s the job hunt going?” she asked, kindly changing the subject.
I sighed. “Not much out there,” I admitted, then glanced at my watch. “Shoot. I have to run, Hester. I’m supposed to clean out my office today, and I wanted to do it at lunch. Avoid a few people.”
“Good luck with that,” she said.
My mood was bittersweet as I walked to Green Mountain. I’d miss Damien’s sniping and gossip, miss Karen’s growling and Pete and Leila’s symbiosis. And I’d miss the work most of all. But I was done. I’d sent Mark an e-mail saying when I’d be in to clean out my office, asked him to have Karen settle my insurance and all that. I didn’t mention his idiotic declarations or stupid kiss.
As I struggled through the door with my empty boxes, Damien jumped up to help. “We’re interviewing for your position,” he whispered. “But Mark would take you back in a heartbeat. Probably double your salary, too.”
“Gotta pass, buddy,” I said. “But I’ll still see you, right?”
“All the time,” he said.
In a way, it was soothing to pack up my office and see the evidence of years of my work. As I looked at the hospital poster, the boy’s remarkable eyes, I thought about taking that home. After all, it was one of my best pieces ever. But it was also the poster that had brought me to Santa Fe, and I didn’t want to be reminded of Santa Fe anymore.
I packed up my books, my plants, samples of my work over the years. Quite a few clients had e-mailed when they’d heard the news of my departure, and Damien, in a rare fit of thoughtfulness, had printed them all out for me. Several clients had sent gifts, too…a complimentary stay from a B&B in Burlington, a gift certificate for a car detailing from the dealership in Stowe. John Hammill, my maple syrup zealot, had sent a gallon of each of his eight strains of syrup, so I’d be all set in terms of pancakes for some time.
He’d also offered me a job—director of marketing, which he admitted wouldn’t be a huge challenge for me. “You’d get as much syrup as you can hold,” he said hopefully, and I laughed and pointed out I had eight gallons to go through as it was.
“Let me know. The job’s yours if you want it,” he said, and a lump had risen in my throat. People were awfully nice, but Hammill Farms was a little too far to commute. Then again, a move might not be the worst thing for me.
A soft knock came on the door. I looked up. Mark. “This is a tough day for us,” he said quietly. “Losing you.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning back to my packing.
“Is there any way you’d stay, Callie?” His voice was forlorn.
“No.”
He flopped on the couch where he’d sat so many times these past four years. “I wanted to apologize for the other day, Callie.”
“Go right ahead,” I said frostily, wrapping a picture of Bronte in tissue paper.
“To tell you the truth, I’d have said anything to get you to stay here.” He toyed with his cuff and didn’t look at me.
“Yeah. I got that.” I reached for the lumpy mug I’d always used for coffee.
Mark sighed, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t fall in love with you, Callie. I wanted to. Back then, I mean.” He looked at me, but I just kept packing. “I wanted to feel the way you did, but I…didn’t, so I said it was a timing thing. Figured it would be easier that way.”
“What about Muriel?” I asked. “Did you really love her, or was she just part of the BTR account? Because that would make you a whore, of course.” I felt an unexpected wave of sympathy for the ice princess.
“I…I thought I loved her. She was…” He paused. “Different. Confident. In California, she seemed really…well, smart, and she didn’t seem to care about anything except work. Like me. I thought we were kindred spirits. I didn’t expect her to be quite so…clueless.” He looked down. “Maybe the only thing I’ve ever really loved is this company.”
“Don’t forget your reflection,” I said.
“Touché,” he muttered. “I deserve that.”
I sat down in my chair and looked at Mark, the first boy who’d ever kissed me. He was so handsome. And shallow. And heartless, not in a ruthless way, but just…lacking heart. At least now he was being honest.
And just like that, I decided to forgive him. Because I’d learned something from Ian. Forgiveness is what really sets a heart free.
“You were a great boss, Mark, and I really loved working here. Thank you for the opportunity.”
He looked up, startled, and after a second, his eyes grew wet. “You’re welcome. Good luck with everything, Callie.”
Then he stood up, extended his hand. I shook it, and then there was nothing left to say.
As I was just about ready to go, Fleur returned to her office, smelling like a wet ashtray and clutching a container of yogurt. She pretended not to see me, despite the fact that our work areas were separated by glass. I grabbed the gift I’d brought her and knocked loudly. “Hi,” I said.
“Callie! Right! Someone said you’d be in today. Well. Best wishes and all that.” She smiled, remorseless as a great white. Just following her instincts.
“Listen,” I said. “I know that scene at the regatta was awkward, but…well…” I faked a smile. “I always enjoyed working with you. So here’s a little farewell gift. I know living in Britain got you hooked on tea.” I handed over a little basket containing a china cup, a tea ball and a little bag of loose tea, all wrapped in cellophane and tied with yellow and orange ribbons.
“Wow, Callie, thank you!” she said, forgetting to sound British. Her face flushed. “That was really nice of you.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck with your career.”
“Same to you,” she replied, untying the ribbon. “I’ll have some right now.” She seemed to remember her accent. “Right. Could murder a cuppa.” She sniffed the tea. “Yummy. Herbal, is it?”
“It sure is,” I replied. “One hundred percent, all natural organic.”
Then I hefted my box into my arms and left Green Mountain Media for the last time, somehow forgetting to mention that the tea just happened to be Dr. Duncan’s Cleanse ’n Purge Weight Loss Jump-Start. When Fleur discovered an alien in her stomach about twelve hours from now, I hoped she’d think of me.
“BOWIE, DO YOU FEEL OKAY?” I asked my dog as I got dressed a few days later. “Do you need a checkup? Huh, buddy? Feeling a little off?” Bowie leaped in a circle, howling with joy, then froze, motionless, quivering with attention. Do I smell bacon? Somewhere, someone is cooking bacon!
Okay, apparently my dog was just fine, so no excuse to see Ian. Drat. Last night, clearly desperate for affection, I’d scanned YouTube for huskies who could say “I love you,” and then tried to teach Bowie to do the same. “Say you love Mommy,” I said now as my dog wagged furiously. “I love you! I love you, Bowie!”
Rehrahruuu, Bowie attempted gamely.
“Good boy! I love you! Say you love Mommy!”
“Jesus, Callie, this is sick! Can’t you just find a prostitute like everyone else?” my brother demanded, stomping into the room
“You’re more and more like Noah every day,” I said. “Not that he ever encouraged me to seek out a hooker.”
“Just go to Ian’s and do him, for crying out loud.”
“And he never said that, either. But the spirit is the same.”
“When are you moving?” Freddie asked grumpily.
“I’m looking for a place this afternoon,” I answered. “Just keep in mind that Noah left this place to me, young man, and just because I’m renting it to you doesn’t mean you get to be all bossy like Hester.”
This got a smile. “Okay. You can stay as long as you want. Just try to be out by next week.”
As tempting as sharing a house with Fred was…well, it wasn’t tempting at all. And though I loved Noah’s place, I didn’t want to live there without the old grump.
One of Jody Bingham’s many hobbies was real estate, and she was taking me house-hunting after lunch. “Okay, Bowie, I have to go, buddy,” I told my dog. “I’ll find the bacon. And I’ll bring it back! Yes, I will! I love you! Can you say that back? I love you!”
Rrrroooruh! was the best he could do. That’s what I got for adopting a mutt.
The first place Jody took me was a condo. It had a lovely kitchen and a sunny little deck, but it was too close to the highway for me. The second place was basically a hovel, and the instant we’d opened the door, the odor had turned us right around. “Sorry,” Jody said. “This third one is a winner, though. From the sound of it, anyway.”
“How are you these days, Jody?” I asked as we drove north out of town.
She sighed. “Well, I’m fine. I really enjoyed sparking with your grandfather. Miss him more than I ought, probably.”
“Nah,” I said. “You miss him as much as you want.”
She smiled fondly at me, and a warm glow of affection filled my chest. Nice to have a new friend, even if she had pirated my bathtub.
The third place was just off a twisting little road up Mount Kiernan. It was indeed a winner—a tiny, fairy-sized house with faded green shingles and a blue tin roof, hidden in a clump of massive pines. Some brave little marigolds were still toughing it out in a pot by the yellow front door. Yellow was my favorite color…a sign, maybe? There was a minuscule front porch…big enough, however, for my rocking chair and a little table and a cuppa joe.
“Sold,” I murmured before I even got out of the car. There were no neighbors, just the pines and the view…woods and fields, the glint of Trout River to keep me company, the spire of St. Andrew’s marking my town.
The inside was snug and cozy, a far cry from Noah’s echoing forty-foot ceilings and arching beams. Ample counters in the small but well-designed kitchen, a little table overlooking the backyard, which was just a scattering of pine needles and a decrepit stone wall. Two tiny bedrooms (I could use one for a closet), a serviceable bathroom, a sleeping loft above. “I’ll take it,” I said, smiling at Jody.
“Excellent,” she said. “Callie, have you found a job yet?”
“Oh, I can afford it, don’t worry. I have savings,” I assured her. “And Noah left me a nest egg.”
“No, I was just wondering about work, if you’d found anything.”
I grimaced. “No. Not yet.”
She nodded. “Well, listen up. There’s an opening at the Senior Center. Director. Timmy McMann left for bigger and better things, so we’re looking. You’d have to deal with the town, draw up the budget, manage the entire staff of two, apply for grants…the usual garbage. But I think you’d be wonderful. Not nearly enough people use the place, and you’re good at drawing people to you. Care to apply?”