Waiting for the One Page 19

  “Chastity, are you okay?”

  I’ve surprised her, as evidenced by the snapping up of her head. At first it doesn’t seem she recognizes who I am. “Saffron. What? Do you need something?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve just got a ton of things to do for the festival.”

  “It’s seaweed, Chastity. There can’t be that much.”

  She doesn’t immediately bite my head off, her usual response when I disparage the festivals. Instead her shoulders sag. “You’re right. I don’t know why I am doing this.”

  “Seaweed?”

  “All of it.”

  I’m momentarily lacking in words, since I can’t believe Chastity, the biggest proponent of the festivals, is questioning why we have them. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes!” Now she bites off my head.

  “The festivals are a lot of fun.” For some people.

  “Are they? With the way people bitch about me behind my back, I wonder why I bother.”

  Oops. I hope it isn’t me she heard dishing, though I haven’t bitched about her in a few days.

  “Did you know I was married once?”

  Wait. What? “No.”

  “Married right out of high school. Never knew why he picked me, but I saw our lives together: we’d live grandly and be so utterly in love. We didn’t live grandly and we weren’t utterly in love but we were a team. Twenty years into our marriage, he left and never came back. No explanation, no warning. Just gone. I hadn’t gone to college. I’d dedicated my life to him, and suddenly the reason I got up every morning, the reason I took care of the house and gardens, the reason I learned how to cook and balance a checkbook, was gone. I woke one morning, a woman in my forties with half of my life over and what did I have to show for it?”

  “So you got involved with the festivals.”

  “At first it was a distraction, keeping me from thinking about what a failure my life was, but later it gave me purpose. Keeping them going means I didn’t fail again.”

  “Your husband failed, not you, Chastity. And I understand what motivates you, but I think you’re selling yourself a bit short. You are a valuable resource to our community, but you push people away. You dictate like a general.”

  Insecurity lingers just beneath bravado. “I don’t want to fail again. That’s why I’m so hard.”

  “Ever heard the expression you attract more flies with honey? Don’t order. Ask. Engage them and I think you’ll find people will respond to it. They’ll talk to you instead of about you.”

  “Have you talked about me behind my back?”

  “Repeatedly.”

  She stares at me a minute before breaking out into laughter. “At least you’re honest.”

  After my Dr. Phil moment with Chastity, I finish my shopping and am waiting to cross the street with my bags. All those years thinking she had a partner only to find out she really didn’t—it’s sad. In the next second, car brakes squeal just as I’m about to cross the street. A strong hand pulls me back, and a familiar voice says, “Are you okay, Saffron?”

  A car zooms off down our small street.

  It’s George. “Yeah, I guess I just lost my balance.”

  “Good thing I was here. That was awfully close. Here, let me help you with your bags.”

  He takes a few and walks with me to my car. My hands are shaking, so it takes me a few tries to get the key in the lock. George deposits my bags and looks me over. “You okay to drive?”

  “I am and thank you.”

  “Drive safe.” He starts off down the street, and my thoughts turn to what nearly happened. I probably wouldn’t have been killed, but I would have definitely gotten a few broken bones. It isn’t that, though, that’s bothering me. It’s the fact that I didn’t lose my balance. It felt like someone pushed me.

  It’s been two weeks, but now I’m sitting in the office where the Board of Directors meets, officially waiting to pitch Dupree House. Broderick is here as my legal counsel, which is fortuitous. Logan waits at the back of the room, while Broderick and I touch on a few last points.

  I’m nervous, but Dante has put together a fantastic packet of information citing other states with similar housing options and the success of their programs. He has stats on the acceptance rates of overseas students and the actual numbers who attend our universities. There are even a few e-mails from parents of foreign teens accepted into our schools, but who declined because the biggest obstacle for their children was the separation and distance from everything they knew. If there had been the option of housing like Dupree House for their children, they would have been more inclined.

  I don’t know the specifics of how he’s acquired all this information, but I do know it was very good advice from Logan to recruit Broderick and Dante. The way they are able to work the system is amazing to watch.

  “How are you doing?” Broderick asks once we finish our strategy session.

  “Nervous, but I’m ready.”

  “Between your pitch, Dante’s research, and Logan, I think we’ve got a really good chance. Remember, push it as a pilot. If it’s successful, it can be the first of many. Dante’s research supports the effectiveness of a program like this.”

  Logan takes the seat to my left, reaching for my hand.

  “You’re going to be fine. It’s a wonderful idea, Saffron, just let the idea sell them.”

  “Thank you for doing this. I mean it, it’s above and beyond.”

  “Nonsense.”

  At that moment, the door opens and in files our audience. “You got this, Saffron,” Logan whispers. I hope I do.

  An hour later, Logan lifts me into his arms and spins me around on the steps outside the building. “You did it.”

  “We did it. We’ve got to call Dante,” I say. Dupree House is officially a go.

  “Already on it,” Broderick says, his phone in his hand.

  Logan drops me back on my feet. “So it begins.”

  That night we have a party on the beach behind my house. The gang is all there.

  “This is so exciting. What a wonderful way to honor Frank,” Gwen says as we sit around a fire.

  “There’s so much to do from this point to getting the doors open, but it’s going to happen.”

  Logan and his brothers cooked dinner, chicken and burgers on the grill. “I couldn’t have done it without them.” Them are currently finishing preparing the rest of the food.

  “It’s fitting that you’ve got them helping. Frank was family. Logan, I suspect, will be family, and his brothers are his family, so it’s a family thing,” Gwen says.

  “What do you mean Logan will be family?” Sure, I see us tying the knot but I get the sense there’s more to Gwen’s statement, like she knows something.

  “It’s no secret the man adores you. You don’t think it’s leading to a ring on your finger and a big white wedding?”

  “I do, eventually. Why? Do you know something?”

  “No,” she answers awfully quickly.

  “Speaking of family, I spoke to my mom. She told me I was shooting too high, wasn’t good enough for Logan.”

  “Well, she’s stupid.” Gwen’s sporting her mean face.

  Chills move through me. The idea of marrying Logan is intoxicating.

  “You have our approval,” Josh says. “He’s a good guy. He loves you, that’s clear. He’s tight with his brothers, which says something. Plus, he’s just so fucking nice to look at.”

  This earns him a look from Derek, to which he replies, “And you aren’t thinking the same thing.”

  “I am, but silently, no need to voice the obvious.”

  Josh chuckles. “Wedding dress shopping in Bar Harbor after he pops the question.”

  “Seriously, do you guys know something I don’t?” Where is all of this coming from?

  “Maybe, but I’ll think it silently since there’s no need to voice the obvious,” Josh says.

  The distinct sound of motorcycles comes f
rom the front of the house. We invited Dirk and his friends, since they were going to be in the area.

  A few minutes later, Josh says, “Who the hell is that?”

  “You weren’t kidding this town is small. I think if I sneezed I would have driven right through it,” Dirk says in way of greeting.

  “Likely. You hungry?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Beers are in the cooler and we’re grilling. Let me introduce you to the gang.”

  Later, after everyone has left, Logan and I walk along the beach. It’s late and I’m tired, but it was such a great day that I don’t want to see it come to an end. “It was great seeing Dirk. I’m so glad he took us up on our offer.”

  “Me too.”

  There’s a thoughtfulness to Logan, as if he’s distracted. I’m about to ask what’s on his mind when he says, “Do you know what made me want to be an artist?”

  “No.”

  “Our house in Scotland is in Glen Isla, that’s on the eastern edge of Scotland, about eighty or so miles from Glasgow. The Grampian Mountains are the backdrop and the glens are cradled between the steep slopes, a lush green that seems to go on forever. I was five, sitting in my yard playing and I saw a horse in the distance. It was wild. We have them in Scotland, but the sight of that white horse seeming to just appear, I thought it was magic. One only I could see. I drew it on construction paper with crayons, that horse in that glen. My mom framed it. It still hangs in our living room.

  “When I got older, I understood what it was about that horse that pulled at me so. The feeling I felt at watching it running through that glen, wild and free, it’s how I feel when I create. Alive, not just living, but drunk on life. Through the years, and perhaps as I became a professional artist, I lost that feeling. I didn’t realize I had lost it, or even missed it, until I walked into Tucker’s and saw you, beautiful, wild and alive.”

  I stop walking. Overwhelmed, happy, drunk with love for him, I can do nothing more than stand there and soak in those feelings.

  “Saffron?”

  “That is, hands down, the sweetest compliment I have ever received.”

  “Maybe now you understand exactly how much you mean to me. I heard you talking to your friends about your mom. She’s completely wrong. Don’t ever doubt what I feel for you, it’s as vast and as lasting as that bay.”

  “I have doubted it, but I won’t again.”

  “Good. Now I want to make love to you, here or inside doesn’t matter to me, so I’ll let you choose. You’ve got to the count of ten.”

  I move, but not toward the house. “Why not love me here and inside?”

  His arms wrap tight around me, drawing me into his warm embrace. “I like how your mind works.”

  The day of the Seaweed Festival has arrived. I’m on my way into town for the parade because nothing says seaweed like a parade. While I understand Chastity better after our talk, part of me still doesn’t even want to go. Yet, considering that Logan has really gotten into this festival, I can’t not show up. The man is making a kelp cake, for Christ’s sake.

  He was up and out of the house before I even awoke: leaving me a note stating he had some last-minute festival things to do. What those things are, I have no idea, unless he’s dredging the ocean for more seaweed.

  Reaching the heart of town, I see people lining the street. What if we are some alien experiment to see how far the human imagination can be pushed before it’s suspended? I think with this festival, my imagination is about at its limit.

  Reaper trots along next to me, oblivious to the fact that the town is gathering to celebrate the wonders and allure of seaweed, though he’s clearly smelling the nasty stuff, since his nose hasn’t stopped twitching. I can’t help but sniff the air myself for the traces of the airborne narcotic that is clearly being pumped into our town’s air supply.

  Reaching the bakery, I see Josh and Gwen waiting for me—Josh has my coffee and Gwen is holding Reaper’s doggie bagel. Bless them.

  “Thank you,” I say as I take that first most welcome sip.

  “I have to say, I am more than a little surprised by the turnout,” Gwen says, but I’m looking around her for Mitch.

  “Couldn’t get Mitch jazzed about the weed of the sea?”

  She throws me a look and grins. “He’s joining us later at the ball.”

  “Another ball? Are you kidding me?”

  “No,” Josh offers.

  “Are we dressing up?”

  Josh looks completely affronted. “Of course we are dressing up.”

  “Well, I have nothing to wear,” I say.

  “You do,” Josh offers cryptically.

  Immediately I’m suspicious. “Meaning?”

  “It’s taken care of; you’re going and you’re going to like it. Your man has been working very hard to make this a successful festival, so the least you can do is show up and look pretty.”

  I have the strongest urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I refrain and turn my head toward the parade that has started.

  The Harrington marching band, all seven members, is followed by the cheerleading squad. The car that appears after them makes the coffee I just sipped go down the wrong pipe. As I try to pull air into my lungs, Josh whacks my back with far more enthusiasm than the situation requires. When I’m able to breathe again, I ask, “Am I the only one having this nightmare?”

  “No,” Gwen says with genuine surprise in her voice. “What is she wearing?”

  It is only when the car gets closer that we can see what Shalee is wearing.

  “Oh my God, she’s wrapped in seaweed. What the hell is she thinking? I didn’t think there was enough seaweed in the world to cover those.” Josh gestures to his chest with his hand.

  “They’re barely covered,” Gwen says.

  “Where’s Logan?” I ask.

  “He and George must be putting the last-minute touches on the cake.”

  I suppose that’s possible, since the man is an artist and takes pride in his work, even if that work is a kelp cake.

  “I can’t watch this anymore,” I say.

  “Yeah, let’s go to Tommy’s,” Josh offers.

  Alcohol, brilliant. Necessary. “Yes, let’s do that.”

  As I sit in the booth with Gwen and Josh, I can’t help but think of Shalee. The vision of her dressed like that in a tub of soy sauce pops into my head, but I immediately dismiss it and have another sip of wine. The parade seems to have ended as people start filing into Tucker’s for lunch. Reaper is in Tommy’s office on his doggie bed: one of his most favorite places to sleep. When the door opens again, Broderick and Dante enter and we call them over to join us.

  “Did you see the parade?” Broderick asks. I know he means Did you get a load of Shalee?

  Lifting my glass, I eye him over the rim. “I’m trying really hard to pretend that I didn’t, but the image seems to be burned onto my retina.” I take a sip before I place the glass down. “Who does that? Voluntarily wraps themselves in seaweed?”

  “There are spas where you’d have to pay to have that done,” Josh says.

  “Whatever,” I say. “Where’s Derek?”

  “He’s resting up for the ball. You know him, he’s a dancing fool.”

  “Why didn’t I know anything about this ball? Everyone seems to know but me.”

  “Logan didn’t tell you?” Josh asks.

  “Nope.”

  They all seem to exchange glances but say nothing.

  “Outside of the surprise of Shalee, I think the day has been quite a lot of fun. I’m looking forward to the ball,” Dante says right before Sarah places his beer on the table.

  “Me too,” Gwen says. “Hopefully we three will have a better showing than the last one.”

  My reply is immediate. “I rather liked the last ball, quite a lot actually.”

  Reaper is right on my heels when I head for the closet to dress for this event, but when I open the door, I let out a startled gasp. Hanging in plain sight is a He
rvé Léger peacock-colored bandage dress with thin shoulder straps and a deep V neckline. The dress is made of nylon and spandex, so when I get it on, it is going to hug every inch of me. It’s gorgeous, sexy, and more daring than anything I’ve ever worn. A note pinned to the hanger in Logan’s handwriting reads: Wear me.

  I start to pull it from the closet, but glance down as I do. Christian Louboutin crystal-covered peep-toe pumps with the signature red sole? My eyes practically pop out of my head. Another note resting against them says: Wear us too. I grin like a fool as I pull my treasures from the closet.

  Once my hair is dried and pulled into a twist after my shower, I take my time applying my makeup: darkening my lashes, using kohl and dark blue around my eyes, tinting my cheeks and lips.

  The gown is such that you can’t wear anything under it, something I have never done before, but as I slip it on, it feels like a second skin. It comes to rest at midthigh and the back is open to below my shoulder blades. Slipping on the pumps, I walk to my jewelry box for a pair of earrings, but a black leather box is resting on top. My breath stills in my lungs when I open it. The most beautiful pair of diamond chandelier earrings that I have ever seen is nestled in the black satin. Pear, marquise, and brilliant-cut diamonds are arranged in a staggering pattern, over seven carats, if I had to guess, and they’re real. Of that I am certain.

  My hands shake slightly as I lift each one and slip them into my ears—they sparkle every time I move my head. I think I’m in shock. They’re too much, and I should insist that Logan return them, but I don’t want him to. I step in front of the mirror and can’t believe it’s me looking back. Never in my life have I ever felt as sexy as I feel right now wearing this incredible ensemble.

  No wonder Logan has been MIA for days—the man has been very busy. He’s spoiling me and I love it. Why all of this for the Seaweed Festival? I can’t say, but I’m having too much fun to care. I’m pulled from my reflection by the sound of someone at my front door. Opening it, I find Broderick and Dante, who can’t hide their surprise at the clingy bandage dress.