Small Town Girl (27 page)

The dilemma was what to wear. Lauren stood in front of the closet in the bedroom, wrapped in a towel. She stared into the chaos. It was not the closet she’d had at Charles’s penthouse, she observed ironically. All her clothes were crammed into the small space, some hanging, some folded on the single shelf. Her shoes were a veritable tower of disarray. It was hard to see what she had, let alone choose something. She did want to look nice, even pretty. She had that much self-respect. And, in a strange way, she was fond of Joan. The woman was a broker, and brokers after all did the jobs the rest of society deemed unsavory, but she did it to the best of her ability and was successful at it. And it did seem that she was honestly trying to be nice to Lauren, drawing her out. So, Lauren wanted to appear respectful of Joan’s thoughtfulness.

While she tried to decide on the outfit, she dried her hair, this time putting hot rollers in it. While they worked, she put on her make-up, shadowing her eyes a little deeper, glossing her lips with a bit more shine. She took out the rollers, flipped her hair over her head, and fluffed the soft curls with her fingers. She threw her head back and looked in the mirror to observe the effect. A couple more pushes and prods with the brush and fingers, a little spray, and Lauren looked at herself with satisfaction.
Not so bad for serving so much time out here in the nether regions of civilization
, she thought with a grin.

Finally, she chose her skinny leg jeans and slipped a red, black, and white plaid flannel top over her head. It was gathered under the bust and detailed with little vertical ruffles across the bodice. It was scooped just low enough to show an occasional glimpse of cleavage. Gold hoop earrings and a gold cuff for jewelry. She topped it off with a black velvet blazer. Heels gave it a fun evening look. She grabbed her black Tory Burch bag and was ready to go.

It was dark when she got to the pub. The windows shone with a friendly glow, and she could hear the rise and fall of happy voices as she went up the steps and through the door. It was quite crowded. The little candles on the tables were all lit. Lauren peered through the throng of people and the dim light. There was Joan. Lauren caught her smile.

“Over here,” Joan called, waving her arm. They were at a table close to the bar. As she approached, the two men stood up. Secretly chagrined, Lauren extended her hand.

“My husband, Roger Halloran,” said Joan, doing the introductions. Roger took Lauren’s hand in a warm grasp. He was a tall, handsome man with thinning gray hair and invisible-rim glasses. He wore a white shirt, open at the collar, with a gray tweed sport coat and gray slacks.

“Lauren Smith,” said Joan.

“And this is my nephew, Joshua LaPlante. Josh, this is Lauren Smith.”

The nephew smiled broadly and took her hand. He was also quite good-looking, with a long, amiable face, and high cheek bones. He had lots of brown hair that fell attractively over his forehead, and friendly dark blue eyes. He, too, was dressed in shirt and sport coat, although he wore jeans.

“Please, join us,” said Roger, gesturing to the empty chair.

Lauren thought ruefully to herself as she sat down,
I seem to be wrong about just about everything lately.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” she said.

“Oh, no,” said Joan, “we just arrived. And not a minute too soon. All of a sudden, everybody decided to come to the pub.”

“Well, we’re in no hurry,” said Roger. “We’ll have a drink and order. I know what I want already.”

Joan sputtered good-naturedly. “Oh, Roger! You always have the burger and fries! Branch out, will you? Take chances.”

“I’m an accountant,” he retorted, smiling at Lauren. “Accountants never branch out. And we never take chances. That’s why I married you, dear.”

“Really, Roger! You’ve kissed the Blarney Stone tonight!”

There must be something to Joan after all,
Lauren thought as she laughed along with everyone else.

The waitress came by and took their orders for drinks. Lauren ordered the Long Trail Ale and everyone followed suit.

“It’s a good evening for beer,” offered Josh. “It’s chilly out there.”

“It’s the middle of October,” Lauren pointed out, taking a sip of foam off the top of her glass. Then, to keep the conversation flowing, she said, “What do you do for a living, Josh?”

“I’m a lawyer in Boston,” he said. “I’m up here helping my aunt and uncle with their estate planning.”

“Not that we plan on dying anytime soon.” Joan laughed.

Lauren was beginning to relax. She liked Joan’s husband, and she liked Josh. He was easygoing and didn’t talk too much. By the time their food order had arrived, Lauren had finished her beer, as had Josh, so they ordered another round. Lauren was shocked to find herself actually laughing, and laughing because she thought something was funny, not out of sarcasm or bitterness at circumstance. She smiled at Josh and took a big bite out of her hamburger.

Things were going so smoothly, but the stars were not aligned just yet. The evening was not what it appeared to be. The front door creaked, as it had all night long, as people came and went. Lauren, seemingly the only one to hear it this time, instinctively looked up. The little bubble of happiness within which she had found herself suddenly quivered and burst. Caleb Cochran walked in.

Lauren felt her surroundings falling away from her in all directions with the speed of light. The second she saw him, she was alone in a vortex. Voices seemed far away. She could concentrate only on Caleb’s back as he made his way to the bar. With the greatest effort, she pulled herself back into the fold.
He hasn’t seen me
.
Thank goodness for that.
She could tell Josh was speaking to her, but she hadn’t heard a single word of it.
Get a grip.

Lauren leaned forward and said, “I’m sorry, Josh, what did you say? I didn’t hear. Some woman laughed out loud right in my ear just as you were speaking.”

Josh pulled his chair closer to her, also leaning in. “I said, what are your plans when the house sells?”

Lauren shook her head. “I don’t really know. I need to find a job. I was thinking of relocating from New York, at least temporarily.”

“Your background would qualify you for a few things,” said Josh. The noise in the pub had escalated, so he moved in closer, his face inches from hers. “You should come to Boston. I could help you get your resume distributed to the right people.”

“How kind!” said Lauren. Still gathering her wits, she concentrated her focus directly at Josh, listening intently to him. Perhaps Caleb would fade into the woodwork or leave, and she wouldn’t get caught staring at him.

“I’m serious,” Josh continued. “Just let me know when you can come. I’ll line some people up for you to talk to.”

All at once, Lauren couldn’t hold the temptation any longer. She took a quick look up at the bar. Caleb was standing, leaning on the corner of the bar, eating a sandwich. He set the sandwich down and looked around the room. Lauren, bent close to Josh, saw him move, but she couldn’t avert her gaze fast enough. Caleb saw her. Their eyes locked. It must have only been a couple of seconds, but it seemed as though they stared at each other for minutes. Time for them stopped. Then Caleb looked away. Lauren saw him leave money on the bar. He said something to a man on the bar stool next to him and then walked right past her. Lauren was ready to say something, even “hi,” but Caleb said nothing as he disappeared back out into the night.

Unconsciously, Lauren watched him go. She felt Joan’s hand on her arm. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked.

Lauren’s heart was fluttering. She thought it might stop altogether, but she smiled at Joan and said, “I’m fine. Probably just a little tired. I was sanding floors all day. I’m sorry, but I think I’ll excuse myself now. It’s been so nice to meet you, Roger, and you, Josh. Thank you so much for asking me.”

They exchanged pleasantries. Josh gave her one of his business cards. As she smiled her goodbyes for the final time, she saw Joan looking at her intently.

The outside air hit Lauren like cold water on her face. She took a deep breath of it and felt a little better, although her hands were still shaking. So much for trying to move on. Well, it wouldn’t be tonight, that’s for sure. Lauren pressed the “unlock” button on her key fob and climbed into her car. The sight of Caleb had rattled her confidence, as it always did. How could she overcome such an attraction? How could she leave such a love behind? And was it a love? Her resolve to deny it was destroyed by the sight of him. She sighed as she started the car. Yes, she admitted, it was love. Real love. Tonight, she wouldn’t fight it. She would concede. She would take her broken heart, go home, and crawl into bed — alone.

T
HE
H
OUSE
W
AS
C
HILLY
. Lauren thought about going directly to bed, but she was still too flustered at having seen Caleb to settle down. And why hadn’t he spoken to her? Why had he left in such a hurry when he saw her? If only he had just said
something
. Lauren tried to think of anything to distract her mind as thoughts of Caleb and their time together whirled in her brain like a hamster on a wheel. She went to the Welsh cupboard in the dining room, opened the bottom door, and took out the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. A little whiskey might help.

Carefully, she took one of the crystal whiskey glasses down from the top shelf of the cupboard. Its weight felt good in her hand. She needed something solid. She poured a shot into the glass and held it up, absentmindedly swirling the amber liquid around the inside of the curved crystal. She took a sip. The warm liquid burned her lips, burned her mouth and throat in a most pleasing manner. She turned, and when she did, she saw the fireplace. She would light a fire.

Lauren hadn’t lit a fire in the fireplace yet, and this would be the perfect night to do so. It would take the chill off and comfort her at the same time. She placed the glass of whiskey on the low table in front of the sofa and went outside to the woodpile. Shivering, she gathered as much wood and kindling in her arms as she could and struggled back inside. She knelt on the brick hearth, crumpling up newspaper and arranging the wood over it. Lauren was no stranger to starting fires. Often, as she was growing up, it was the only heat her parents allowed in their various homes.

As Lauren struck the match and held it to the newspaper, a pang of nostalgia pierced her heart. The comfort of the fire would feel good, warming both bones and spirit. The fire caught immediately on the dry kindling, and the flames leaped and danced. Lauren sat back on the sofa, cupping her whiskey glass in her hands. She was surprised how much heat the fire threw. This could turn out to be her favorite spot if the house didn’t sell by winter.

The fire calmed her, the whiskey relieved the tenseness in her, and she felt her shoulders relax. She read a few pages in her book and then began to feel tired. She glanced at the old clock on the mantel. It was eleven. Yawning, Lauren stood up and put the screen in front of the fire, checking to see that no sparks could escape. Then she climbed the stairs, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. In her bedroom, she undressed and slipped into her long white nightgown. Although made of gauzy see-through material, its long sleeves would keep her warmer than the black silk shift. She crawled beneath the covers. This time, instead of trying not to think of Caleb, she gave her thoughts over to her memories of the time they’d had together. It was oddly comforting to recall his touch on her body, awakening myriad feelings and emotions that she had previously only dreamed of. She remembered his lips on hers, his warm mouth seeking her capitulation. She drifted off to sleep imagining again the weight of his body on hers.

How long she slept, Lauren had no idea, but she was suddenly aware of a heaviness in her chest, as though she could not take a deep breath. Slowly, she willed her mind out of the sleep that dulled and confused her senses. Her eyes burned as she opened them. The room seemed to be filled with fog. She took a gasping breath for air and felt a searing pain in her nose and throat. The realization exploded in her brain. Fire!

It was not fog. It was smoke! Trying to control her panic, Lauren slipped out of bed, bending close to the floor. Her eyes watered so much she could hardly keep them open. Struggling for breath, she crawled along the floor, trying to reach the window or where she thought the window was. The swirling smoke obliterated all sense of direction. Lauren frantically felt around until her fingers closed around the flannel top she had worn the night before, discarded carelessly over the chair of her vanity. She clapped it to her face. Now she couldn’t open her eyes at all. The smoke was suffocating. Blindly, she fought her way to the window. Holding the shirt to her face, she clutched at the windowsill with her other hand, exerting every ounce of effort she could muster to pull herself up. She must open the window. She must get air. Lauren hauled herself to her knees, but then she began to cough uncontrollably. The room was spinning around her. She clenched her teeth. The pain in her throat and chest was unbearable. Suddenly, all her strength left her. She fell to the floor, unable to move. Lauren felt her arms and legs tingling with a strange sensation. She fought to stay conscious, but she could not make her body move. Then a strange peace settled over her. Thoughts flitted in and out of her mind. She was dying, here in the old house. Should she struggle against death, or melt into the trap of the smoke, waiting for the relief death would bring? She could not move. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she heard voices. She imagined someone was calling to her. Calling her name, over and over. She felt herself sinking into darkness.