Bubbles All The Way (29 page)

He was practically salivating. What is it with city editors that the words “millage” and “increased spending” can turn them into drooling idiots? I wanted to explain to him that back when I was a civilian, way before I ever became a reporter, a story like that would have been a reason
not
to buy a paper.

Then again, back then all I read was “Dear Abby” and weddings and, maybe, the personals. Then I skipped straight to the coupons.

Then again, that’s all I read now.

“That’s definitely a page B1 above the fold, though it could work as a front-page below the fold.”

“Oh, joy.”

Mr. Salvo took a note on his pad. “You got anything in the hopper we can use while you’re on your honeymoon? It’s death, this week between Christmas and New Years, you know. There are just so many end-of-year wrap-ups we can do.”

The hopper was his word for storage. It was my duty as a beat reporter to manufacture stories—in my abundant free time—that could be culled at any moment and run on slow news days.

“I’m not going on my honeymoon,” I said.

“No?” Mr. Salvo stuck his pen behind his ear. “Going to take it later, are you?”

I observed the two wet spots under his armpits. I was really going to have to buy that man a couple of arm shields. Maybe I could sneak them into his stocking.

“No. I’m not getting married.”

His pen dropped.

I leaned over and picked it up.

“Does Stiletto know that?” he asked.

Mr. Salvo and Stiletto were old friends. Their relationship went wayyy back and once nearly got me killed. “I’m telling him in an hour.”

He checked his watch. “You better make it fast.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know?”

“No. Do you?”

Those armpit stains spread some more. “I gotta go. I’m late for the meeting.” And he ran away like a little kid running from a bully on the playground.

This was really beginning to annoy me, all the secrecy about what Stiletto was up to. I wished these men would stop being so babyish and come right out and tell me what was going on.

The phone rang. It was Dan. Speaking of babies.

“How the hell are you, toots?” His voice was slightly slurred. He sounded as if he’d had a few. Clearly, the men in my life were collapsing around me.

“Dan? Are you okay?”

“Sure, I’m okay.”

“You’re not . . . mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad, all right. I’m downright furious.” He slurped, as if from a straw.

This was very weird. In fact, now that I thought about it, this whole day was shaping up to be something out of the Twilight Zone. Multiple Santa Clauses stalking me like zombies after human flesh. Lawless helping me. Stiletto’s coldness on the phone and then Mr. Salvo’s cryptic remarks about Stiletto.

“I’ve had four Tylenol with codeine and so I one hundred percent forgive you,” Dan said. He slurped some more. “They’re for my back. The Tylenol.”

“I hope you’re not drinking alcohol with those meds. That could kill you.”

“I’m not drinking alcohol. I’m sucking on a milk shake. It’s damn tasty. Strawberry, I think. Or maybe chocolate. I can’t tell. Whatever it is, I’m going to drink one every day for the rest of my life. I LOVE these.”

“Dan,” I said, not even stopping to think about what I was about to say, “I can’t marry you.”

There. Done.

This was answered with a loud, long slurp. “Whaddya mean, you can’t marry you?”

“No. It’s
I
who can’t marry
you
. I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be right. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you.”

Dan burped. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Sure, whatever.”

This was stunning. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. “Are you for real?”

“Of course, I’m for real. Hey, what’re you doing for Christmas?”

I hadn’t thought about it. My entire future had stopped with the prospect of saying, “I do.” Everything after that was blank.

“I don’t know. The usual.” Frankly, I was still trying to absorb his acceptance of my rejection.

“Great. I’ll come for Christmas dinner at four. I’ll bring my present for Jane and a date, if I can scrounge one up at the last minute.”

Were my ears playing tricks? Was this Dan’s idea of a joke? It was all too easy. Then again, maybe not. Dan had never professed to love me, either. It could have been that he was just as relieved to be rid of me as I was of him.

“What about the wedding arrangements?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“We still have our appointment tomorrow morning with Dr. Caswell, right?”

“Do you want me to pick you up? Can you drive?”

“Don’t worry about me, toots. I’ll be there with bells on.” He yawned loudly. “Man, I’m bushed. See you tomorrow in the a.m.” He was actually very pleasant.

“Nighty night,” I said.

I looked at the clock on my computer screen. It was almost five thirty. Then I heard a thud followed by a snore. Dan had just passed out with the phone off the hook.

I
hadn’t felt so light and free in months!

I couldn’t stop from grinning in the
News-Times
green tiled women’s room as I carefully applied my face, lining my lids with fawn eye shadow, adding a deeper mink in the creases, highlighting under my brows with stardust. Every once in a while I’d stop and smile at myself in the mirror. It was like having the test results come back negative or the final exam being canceled. Breaking up with Dan was better than winning the Lottery. I know—sacrilege.

I hadn’t appreciated how tight I’d been lately. Now I could actually sense the knots in my back muscles unraveling. My lungs inhaled and exhaled with new elasticity. I must have been holding my breath ever since I’d accepted Dan’s marriage proposal. So that explained why my skin had turned so yucky and pale.

Best of all, this wasn’t the best part. The best part was yet to come when I surprised Stiletto with the news that I was once again a free woman.

Wait. I didn’t want to imagine how he’d look, how he’d swing me around and wrap me in his arms and kiss me until we fell down, breathless. I erased all images in my mind. I wanted a fresh slate. Tabula rasa, it was called, according to what I could remember from my Lockean Empiricism for Dummies course at Two Guys.

I blew Veronica a kiss and didn’t bother to complete her stupid sign-out sheet as I wooshed past her, leaving a trail of Chloe perfume. She was predictably shocked and immediately reached for her WHILE YOU WERE OUT slips to jot down my exact exit time and how I’d completely disobeyed management’s orders by flagrantly refusing to punch out.

I was free. I was in love. And I was going to marry Steve Stiletto. Not even Dix Notch could dampen my mood.

Stiletto was not in front of the Moravian Bookshop when I arrived ten minutes late. That was okay, I told myself. He’d warned me that he might be running behind.

A light snow fell on Main Street as shoppers rushed past the eighteenth-century stone buildings, where Advent candles had been placed in the multipaned windows. It was a scene out of Currier & Ives, the Victorian gaslamps, the cobblestone street, the funny, narrow German architecture. The majestic Moravian church that sat above us on a hill at the corner of Church and Main glowing white.

It was the most romantic evening ever to become engaged.

I ducked into the bookstore, thinking maybe Stiletto had started without me. The wooden floors creaked under the weight of so many people buying beeswax candles and Moravian stars, from tiny little paper ones to huge leaded crystal. I searched past the candy counter and the deli, trying not to be persuaded by the fresh, hot cinnamon cookies or the paper-thin sugar wafers.

A recording of the Bach Choir singing “Silent Night” played softly as I searched the bookstore and then the gift room. But my search was fruitless until I went outside and spied Stiletto nicking into Musselman’s Jewelers.

The naughty devil.

“Yoo-hoo!” I shouted.

Stiletto turned. He was dressed more formally than usual in a black wool coat like Mr. Notch’s. His stubble was gone, and the white silk scarf draped casually across his lapel gave him the appearance of being the multimillionaire I tended to forget he was.

“Where were you?” he asked when I caught up to him. “I was waiting.”

“I looked for you inside the bookstore. I thought maybe that’s where you were.” I couldn’t help smiling. I so wanted to tell him everything right away. “Can we grab a few minutes?”

He checked his watch. “I have to pick up this gift before they close. Come on.”

This was not exactly what I had in mind. He took big strides ahead of me as if I didn’t exist, though he held open the door like a gentleman. Inside, Musselman’s was as hushed as the blue velvet-lined cases displaying diamond tennis bracelets, Rolex watches and the most stunning pair of emerald earrings I’d ever seen.

Sniffing obscene wealth, a salesman rushed to assist. “May I help you, sir?”

I thought Stiletto might laugh at being called sir, but it didn’t faze him. Apparently people called him sir quite frequently. “I’m here to pick up a piece of jewelry I ordered.”

“Ah, yes. The reset sapphire. Absolutely lovely.”

As if just remembering I was by his side, Stiletto shot me a stricken look and pulled the salesman out of my earshot.

Sapphire! How did Stiletto know that sapphires were my favorite precious jewels? It made me blush, his thoughtfulness. A final Christmas present to remember him by. A wedding gift. Oh, if he only knew that he wouldn’t be saying goodbye. He’d be saying, “I do!”

I could barely stand the suspense. It was
killing
me.

The salesman slipped off and Stiletto returned.

“Sorry about that,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t mean for you to hear the gory details.”

“That’s okay.” I was still grinning like an idiot. “Listen, Stiletto, there’s so much I have to tell you, so much I have to explain about how I came to accept Dan’s proposal in the first place and how I was pressured—”

He placed his finger over my lips. “No, don’t, Bubbles. I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

“An apology? What for?”

“For making light of your situation. I hadn’t stopped to really consider Jane’s fragile state of mind and that, of course, you’d put her first. You’re her mother and a damned good one at that.”

If he only knew what the professionals had to say.

“Stiletto, I don’t think you understand.”

“I do. It hit home last night at the Hotel Lehigh when you and Dan reserved the penthouse, when he called you and you went as a fiancée should.”

“I knew you were mad about that.”

“I wasn’t mad. Sad, maybe, but not mad. The good news is that I finally realized what kind of obligations you have. I’m an independent guy, but you . . . you have a whole family already, Bubbles.”

“Would you like to see it before I gift wrap it, sir?” The salesman was back with incredibly lousy timing.

Stiletto excused himself and the two went off for more consultation. I could make out a small black velvet box and something glittering. In fact, I was being so nosy that I didn’t at first notice
her
walking through the front door.

Even though she was encased in a full-length mink, it was hard to miss her toned legs, the slim ankles and the way she carried herself with physical confidence. Every aspect about her was healthy. Her body was healthy. Her superwhite teeth as she smiled were healthy. And there wasn’t a split end on her thick, buoyant mane of silky blond hair.

I was a squishy, tawdry, sickly bitch in comparison. My hair was all of a sudden way too bright. My skin too covered in foundation. My clothes were, well, from the Westgate Outlet. Need I say more?

I was not Sabina Towne, the actress from swanky Allentown. I had not jetted in from California to help organize the Help the Poor Children fund-raiser. I was not dating Stiletto.

She saw me and cocked her head in a questioning way, as if trying to figure out if she should acknowledge my presence. But I wasn’t the issue. I wasn’t why she was here. She was here for Stiletto and I watched in perverse fascination as she tiptoed behind him and slapped her hands over his eyes.

Playful. I’d heard that some women were. But I’d never actually observed a playful member of my species in action.

Stiletto jumped in flirtatious exaggeration and the salesman, being an expert in the business of expensive love tokens, quickly hid the velvet case, smiling at Stiletto and Sabina as if they were the most adorable couple on the planet.

So the sapphire had not been for me after all. It had been for Sabina.

A rush of nausea came over me. My knees cramped and I reached out to the glass counter to steady myself as my spinning head tried to comprehend exactly what was going on. Whereas I hadn’t been able to stop grinning before, now I couldn’t stop from feeling as if I was about to throw up.

“Bubbles?” Stiletto’s voice came from far away. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Sabina was there. “Nice to see you again,” she said. “Too bad you didn’t win Steve the other night.”

I must have looked like the biggest dolt in the universe the way I was gripping the counter and baring my teeth with such insincerity that I could have been an embalmed corpse at Kowalski’s Funeral Home.
It’s all over,
I kept thinking.
You’re too late. You missed your opportunity.

“It was just to get them bidding,” I said as casually as I could. “You know how Stiletto and his ego are, all bummed out if no one bids over four hundred. And, of course, Help the Poor Children is a cause that’s near to my heart.”

Stiletto made a doubtful face.

“But the bids for Steve were the highest that evening.” She leaned against him, comfortable and secure in their physicality.