“I hope you are hungry.” He pulled containers out of the basket and looked like a boy on Easter morning. He held up a bottle of champagne like he had found the golden egg.
“We’re having champagne? What a treat,” she said tersely, thinking that at least it might help her fall asleep on the plane later.
“Only the best for you, Elizabeth.”
Squelching a nasty retort questioning his definition of
best
treatment where she was concerned, Lizzie sat on the blanket next to him, closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sky. Calm, in utter control now, she heard the muted pop of the cork and the vaporous hiss of effervescent wine. She opened her eyes and accepted the flute of bubbling, pale champagne.
“Should we toast?” He looked at her expectantly.
She nodded, curious about what exactly he’d deem worth toasting.
“To second chances. Cheers.”
Lizzie was at a loss for words at his show of being the seemingly eager suitor.
She clinked her glass against his and drank.
Wallace gazed deeply into her eyes and looked about to speak. But he shook his head instead.
“What?”
“Nothing. Let’s eat.” He popped a strawberry into his mouth and topped off their champagne.
She helped herself to a flaky croissant and watched him. He was handsome; she had always thought so. A former athlete, his body was still taut and lean. His dark brown eyes were shrewd and penetrating. He wore casual Ralph Lauren clothes but still looked stiff. The cut of his streaked, dark blond hair was stylish, but his hair didn’t move in the breeze.
What would he do if she rubbed her hands over his head and messed it all up?
Pulling a plastic container from the basket he removed its cover with a flourish, “
Voila
.”
She peered into the container. “Egg Salad? Oh, Wallace, you didn’t.”
“I did. It’s still the only thing I make.”
“I remember. The last time I ate it I spent over twenty-four hours in the ladies room.”
He laughed and leaned back on his elbows. “I was hoping you had forgotten. Lesson learned. Do not make egg salad the night ahead unless you put it in the refrigerator. Who knew? My word, I thought I had killed you.” He waved his hands in mock surrender.
“There were times that day, that night and even the next day that I wished you had. I can’t remember ever being that sick.”
“I promise you, this is fresh. I made it this morning.”
He had spent his morning making a meal for her. A reprise of a meal that had ended badly in the past. The implied symbolism, second chances, do-overs, hit her.
Leaning nearer Wallace took her hand. “I have never stopped thinking of you, Elizabeth. I was a fool to let you get away.”
And I have never stopped thinking about you, either.
She stiffened and yanked her hand away as her heart beat erratic somersaults in her chest. “Get away? You didn’t let me get away. You dumped me, Wallace.”
His features contorted as if pained. “Look. The past can’t be changed. We’re together now. Can we just enjoy it?”
Glancing away, she stared at the riverbank. True, the past can’t be changed.
“I used to feel lucky to be with you. I gave you my heart…” Tears welled as she faced him.
Bending his head, he cupped his chin with his hand, a pensive pose. When he looked at her again, his eyes were serious, hypnotic with intensity.
“I was so egotistical back then I expected it.” He shook his head casting his gaze upward. “I didn’t deserve you. I’ve spent ten years regretting my stupidity.”
The vice around her heart loosened. “I don’t know what to say, Wallace.”
Clasping her hands he pleaded, “You don’t have to say anything. Just see me again.”
“I’ll be away three weeks this trip.” She freed her hands and bit a fingernail. “Maybe when I get back we could arrange something.”
“Three weeks? Does Jack mind?” He squinted, studying her face.
Jack?
Why would Jack care either way if I were gone three weeks or a year?
But. Jack would probably care if his girlfriend were gone for that long.
“He understands how much my work means to me.” That much probably wasn’t a lie. “It’s one of the things he loves about me.” She smiled, happy with her embellishment.
“Have you and Jack been together a long time?” He focused on her face, unblinking.
“Not too long.”
“Does he know that we are meeting today?”
“Of course I told him. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”
Enough about Jack
.
“How about you and your date at the reunion? I’m sorry…I didn’t catch her name. Have you been together long?”
“Bunny.”
Lizzie snorted, covered her mouth with her hand. “You’re kidding,” she finally managed.
“She’s very proud that she had it legally changed after she appeared in Playboy the first time.”
“Wow. You can’t make up that stuff. I would never have picked her as the type of woman you’d bring to the Varsity Club. Did you tell her you were meeting me for a picnic?”
“You got me. Bunny is not my girlfriend. I thought I’d make a good impression on you if I went to the reunion with a beautiful woman. She was strictly for show, if you know what I mean?”
She knew. Did he sense that she and Jack were not really a couple and that she had used him to impress Wallace for show? Was he goading her? Had he seen through her sham? She nibbled at her thumbnail.
“I think I understand,” she replied carefully. “I think it’s sweet that you tried to impress me at the reunion.”
“Where did you and Jack meet?”
Damn, why did I bring up the reunion?
“When I joined the Peace Corps I met Jack’s brother, Charlie, and his future sister-in-law, Mari. Mari was like a sister to me. We were very close.”
“Were?”
“Yes. Mari died eight months ago. I miss her terribly. I’m still very close with Charlie. He has been inconsolable since her death.”
“Sorry for your loss. Was Jack in the Peace Corps with you too?”
She wished he’d drop the subject of Jack. Her face burned from skirting the truth. “No, he wasn’t with us.”
“What does Jack do for a living?”
“He’s in construction.” How long could she dodge these questions without owning up that she hardly knew Jack? “Why all these questions about Jack?”
“Just interested in the competition, that’s all.”
“Look at the time.” She displayed her watch to him on a bent wrist. “We better head back to the airport. I can’t miss my flight.”
Jumping up she brushed the seat of her pants with her hands and then helped him put the containers back in the basket.
Wallace put his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the car. “I would like to see you again when you get back. I have a new project in Chicago so I plan on spending quite a bit of time there.”
“Really? Are you putting up a new building?”
“It’s not definite yet, but I am sure that we will win the bid and be awarded the contract very soon. The bid is for the Global Commerce Building. Have you heard of it?”
“No, I don’t think so. Good luck.”
“Thank you. I know my competition, and I plan on beating him at quite a few things in the near future.”
Antsy during the ride back to Logan, Lizzie mentally replayed their conversation on the picnic blanket, incredulous that he had asked her for a second chance.
When he had asked in her dreams her responses were contradictory—yes, with a fairy tale ending and hell, no, with the sweetness of revenge. Could she have a fairy tale ending with him? If she and Wallace picked up where they had left off, she’d have to tell him the truth about Jack. How could she ever trust Wallace if she weren’t trustworthy herself?
But that could wait. She didn’t know where she was going with Wallace.
“Here we are, Elizabeth.”
The car glided up the airport departures ramp. She lifted her backpack into her lap. Wallace leaned over the wilted roses that separated them on the seat. He touched his lips to hers and put his hand on the back of her neck to press her into the kiss.
Lizzie closed her eyes and tried to go back ten years to the heady sensations his kisses had invoked then. But it was just a kiss.
He released her, and she gazed into his eyes. “Thank you for the picnic. I enjoyed it. It would be nice to see you in Chicago.”
“Jack won’t object?”
She tensed at the pointed question. “No, of course not. We’re not…exclusive.”
“Really?” His sarcastic tone grated. “He seemed quite possessive.”
“Uh, well…” The driver opened her door and she made her escape.
She leaned toward him from the curb. “Thanks again, Wallace. Take care.”
“Sure. You, too. I’ll call you, Elizabeth.”
Straightening, she closed the car door. Unable to see him through the tinted glass as the car pulled away, she waved anyway before she turned and walked inside the terminal.
During the next thirty-five hours she could think about seeing him again and second chances.
Chapter Nine
Lizzie opened her eyes and froze. She was displaced and only sure that she was in a different place than yesterday morning.
Her cheek rested on a down pillow. She turned her head and looked out the window that framed a view of the Sears Tower like a postcard. The landmark served as her lighthouse that always let her know she was home safe and secure.
She had returned last night from Niger, where she had spent three weeks photographing her “new babies.” Emotionally more than physically exhausted, she had fetched Marty from the neighbors, dumped her suitcase and camera gear by the front door, changed into her comfortable, over-worn flannel pajamas and crawled into the soft king size bed.
Anesthetized by exhaustion for twelve straight hours, she had apparently let the television blast and her bedside lamp glow all night.
Reaching for the remote control on her bed table, she clicked the power off button. Soothing silence. She reached under the covers and rubbed the warm fur ball curled next to her leg.
“Hey, Princess, time to get up.”
The dog peeked a sleepy, cockeyed face out of the comforter, yawned hugely, burrowed back under the covers and tunneled to the foot of the bed. Snores like only a Boston terrier could make vibrated the mattress under Lizzie’s toes.
“Okay. You have a few extra minutes, but after my shower we’re both going to Starbucks.” She missed her
venti lattes
.
****
While balancing a tray with two large cups and a bag of pastries, Lizzie unlocked her door. She had so much catching up to do. The message light on her answering machine flashed, but she was too tired to deal with it last night.
The machine had arrived a few days after her weekend in Boston. Her managing editor had enclosed a handwritten note:
“
Good News! Here’s a present for you with my compliments…because my calls are so important. Bonus—this machine stays put so it can never be forgotten.
”
The note included dial-in instructions to collect messages from outside phones. The instructions were typed on a handy, laminated pocket card. She laughed at the effort her employer had gone through.
Lizzie hit the playback button on the machine. A computer-weird male voice announced she had twenty messages.
Wow, guess I do need this thing.
While she listened to the messages, she divided a mound of mail into piles of bills, catalogs she might look through, catalogs she would never look through, magazines and just plain junk.
Hello, Elizabeth. This is Wallace. I wanted to let you know how wonderful it was seeing
you. I’ll be in town this weekend and I want to see you again. Call me.
Lizzie’s heart thudded in her chest until she heard the phone click on the recording.
She looked at the machine, “Call you? I would, but you didn’t leave your phone number.”
Hey, Liz. Charlie here. I don’t know when you’re getting home. Hope you had a successful trip. Call me. Would love to hear all about it. Got the galleys for the book. You’re going to love them. Welcome home. Coffee’s on me. Love you.
She smiled hearing the strength in Charlie’s voice.
Liz, call me. The prints are to die for. Fabulous. Perfect. Call me. If you do, I’ll know you’re using this machine properly. Your loving editor with more work for you.
Pausing her sorting, she laughed. “Ha,” she said to the machine, “I think I’ll make you wait until Monday.”
Bella. Bella. Bella. I miss you. I need you. I need a party. Who am I kidding I need more Fannie May!!! Call me. Hey when did you get this answer machine? Great idea.
She wrote
order more candy for Kay
on a pad by the phone. Assorted hang-ups and sales pitches had her pushing the delete button as she continued sorting through the mail.
Stretching her bony arms above her head, her recent weight loss was apparent. She hadn’t eaten much the past three weeks surrounded by hunger, choosing to give her food away instead.
Elizabeth. Wallace again. I was surprised when you did not return my call. I would really like to get together. Call me.
“Two calls? Wow. I would call if you would leave your damn number, Wallace.” Was he always this frustrating?
Hi, Beth. It’s Jack. Jack Clark. Are you free this weekend so I can settle our bet? Maybe we could grab a pizza or something more elaborate if that’s your choice. If you’re interested please call me. My cell is 312-555-9298 or you can try to catch me home at 312-555-6732. Good night.
Happy at the sound of Jack’s voice, she rewound the tape and played the message again. She checked the machine for the date of the call.
What day is today anyway?
Referring to her wall calendar, she delighted at the picture of Miss November. Marty google-eyed and seeming to smile, was the pin-up of the month. Surrounded by little stuffed turkeys, the dog wore a pilgrim hat. Lizzie had dressed the pup month appropriate, treats at the ready to bribe her to pose, and made a calendar out of the twelve shots. She gave them to everybody she knew as gifts last Christmas to the amusement of her friends. The dog would do anything for cashew nuts.