Small Town Girl (7 page)

W
HEN
L
AUREN
D
ROVE
I
NTO
the driveway of the old house, the boy was already there, mowing the lawn. He gave a wave from the small tractor-mower he drove, and Lauren waved back. The place looked better already. The yard started to show a shape, and the flower beds seemed more colorful. There was still a lot of weeding and edging to do, but the bright orange of the daylilies’ faces illuminated the whole area under the big, shady maple. The freshly cut grass smelled divine. Lauren took a deep breath as she walked into the house. She felt uncharacteristically serene as she went inside.

In the city, Lauren still kept her own small apartment in Murray Hill, but she spent most of her time with Charles in the penthouse. Most evenings when she left her job at the museum, she walked the six blocks to the apartment building on West 67th, greeted the doorman, and took the elevator up to the private penthouse entrance. There was no need to unlock the door. The doorman would have already alerted Dennis, Charles’s house manager. Dennis would be waiting for her, welcoming her with a smile. He would take her coat, and she would walk through the front foyer, decorated with Charles’s Chinese porcelain collection, into the wood-paneled den.

Dennis would say, “Would you care for a drink this evening, ma’am?”

Lauren usually answered, “Yes, Dennis, thank you. I’ll have a gin and tonic. With lime, please.” While she gazed out the window, Dennis would disappear only to return five minutes later with a cool gin and tonic and a plate of hors d’oeuvres prepared by Tina, the cook. Lauren would say, “Thank you so much, Dennis.” He would smile and retreat once again, leaving Lauren to sit and wait for Charles, relaxing by the crackling fire in the fireplace in the winter, or out in the balcony garden when the weather was warm. It was the one time in the day when she was not fielding calls on her iPhone, planning fund raising, directing this exhibition to be set up and this one to be taken down and this one moved to the front of the Windermere room, or tending to the petty complaints of whiny staff members.

Now she stood in the kitchen of the old farmhouse. The windows were open, and the smell of the freshly mowed grass wafted in on the late afternoon breeze. Lauren looked around her. Dennis and Tina were not there. Charles would not be joining her this evening. She was alone, surprised that she was rather enjoying it. Impulsively, she rolled up her sleeves and walked over to the kitchen sink. Everything was pretty much the way it was left when her grandmother had died, but the grime of neglect had settled over it. Lauren opened the cabinet under the sink and found cleaning supplies. She dragged them out, pulled on a pair of rubber gloves she found there, and began to clean.

As she worked, Lauren found herself daydreaming. The noise from the lawnmower floated in the background, but it was otherwise quiet. As she washed, swept, and dusted, thoughts of Caleb stole into her imagination. She wondered whether he would show up this evening or whether he was just being polite. She thought about her attraction to him. How could it be so instantly strong when she was in love with Charles? Lauren had spent most of her young life struggling to reach the top. She’d had few relationships, none of them serious until she met Charles. And Charles had fit into her plan so perfectly. To her, he epitomized success. She thought of what Caleb had said about her not quite understanding what Charles’s company did.
A fair observation
, she thought.
I’ll ask him when I get back to the city.
On that note, Caleb was right. It was necessary for a wife to understand fully her husband’s business life, and he, hers. It was important to the core of the partnership which was, in her eyes, marriage.

The lawnmower stopped. Lauren looked up at the old clock on the wall. It was five fifteen. She smiled to herself. Dennis would not be bringing her a cocktail this evening, but she felt oddly content nonetheless. She looked around the kitchen, now neat and clean, the surfaces of the counters shiny, and the old linoleum floor three times brighter. She was pleased with herself. It felt cozy.

There was a knock at the door. Lauren opened the screen door. The boy was there, smiling at her.

“Lawn’s done, miss,” he said.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“Thirty-five will do it.”

She paid him with cash and watched as he loaded the lawnmower into the back of his pick-up truck and disappeared down the road. Lauren was alone. She heaved a sigh and decided Caleb was not going to “check on things.” She would have liked to have seen him, just to assure herself she could carry on a platonic conversation with this man and get through the night without any more erotic dreams featuring his erection.

Lauren went outside, wandering around the garden, inspecting the lawnmower’s work. The lawn looked very good. The boy had weed-whacked along the fence, and the garden looked crisp and cared for. She was satisfied with the job.

As she stood there, Lauren’s stomach suddenly gave a little growl. She realized she was beginning to feel hungry. There was no real supper food in the house. She had only bought coffee and juice, and some bottled water and iced tea, but she felt like having a cold beer. Too much country air, she thought wryly. Well, perhaps she would go down to MacTavish’s Pub and get a hamburger and fries for dinner. It would be entertaining to observe the locals on a Friday night, anyway.

She skipped up the stairs and changed into a simple cotton sundress with a fitted bodice and full skirt. It was white with a pale blue embroidered pattern, very summery. And although she had no one to impress in this small hamlet, she was pleased with the way it showed off her small waist and rounded breasts.

It took her about five minutes to drive down into the village. She went alone into the small pub. All heads turned and looked at her, then turned back to their conversations and their drinks. Lauren noted immediately Caleb was not among them. One of the tables in the bow window was empty, so she sat there. The same waitress walked up, pad and pencil in hand as usual.

“What can I getcha?” she said.

They must have patterned the stereotypic waitress after you
, Lauren mused before speaking. “Oh, I guess I’ll just have a burger and fries.”

“You want cheese with that?”

“Yes, provolone, please.”

“We don’t have provolone. We have American and cheddar.”

“American, then,” said Lauren. She consciously chose to ignore the waitress’s irritating manner.

“Drink?”

“Yes, a Sam Adams on tap, please.”

“Summer Ale?”

“Sure.”

The waitress turned abruptly and disappeared into the crowd that was clustered around the bar, watching a baseball game on television. The crowd seemed to be split about fifty-fifty male and female. They laughed and cheered or booed at the game. It was a friendly place, even though she was alone.

When the waitress returned with her order, Lauren enjoyed her simple supper, but every time the door swung open, she caught herself looking to see if it was Caleb. Probably, like herself, his circumstances precluded their mutual attraction progressing any further than friendly professionalism.
I can live with that
, she thought.
Hopefully, he can
. She laughed softly to herself rather smugly.

When the front door opened again, this time Caleb Cochran walked into the pub. All the smugness that Lauren had harbored two seconds ago evaporated. Her stomach did a flip, and she struggled to conceal her pleasure at the sight of him. She quickly dropped her eyes to her plate and then peered out from beneath her thick lashes.

Caleb walked over to the bar. She saw the crabby waitress smile at him, heard him say something, and saw the waitress pull a beer from one of the taps, setting it in front of him. Lauren watched him, unconsciously mesmerized, as he turned around to face into the room, lifting the glass to his lips. He saw her instantly and gave a friendly wave before he made his way to her table.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” said Lauren.

“Are you eating alone?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Mind if I sit down?”

Lauren managed a weak smile and motioned to the empty chair at the table. “Be my guest.”

“What are you drinking?” he asked, looking at her nearly empty beer glass. “Can I get you another?”

“Sam Adams,” replied Lauren, beginning to relax a little. “Sure, why not.”

Caleb caught the eye of the waitress. “Vanessa, can we have another Sam Adams over here, please?”

Vanessa nodded, pulled the beer, and sulkily set it in front of Lauren.

“Thank you,” Lauren said, but there was no response from Vanessa. “What an attitude,” added Lauren under her breath as the waitress made her way back to the bar.

Caleb laughed. “Aw, she’s just shy.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. She’s rude!”

Caleb lifted his glass and clinked the rim of her own. “Welcome to town,” he said.

“Well, thank you,” said Lauren. “Thank you for the beer, too.”

“That’s okay. Every once in a while I get a night where I can enjoy a couple of brews. See, I’m always on call for something. Either the business or the fire department. Tonight, I’m really off. My time’s my own. That doesn’t happen very often.”

“You sound pretty busy,” said Lauren, looking at him over her glass. His eyes were snapping green lights.

“I guess I am. I like to keep busy. I don’t handle lying around too well. Never have.”

“What else do you do? What do you like to do when you do have time off? Nobody can work all the time.”

“My father thinks I do.” Caleb laughed again. “But no, I do have other interests. I like to snowboard or ski in the winter, and in the summer I have my garden and I like to work on my house. I like woodworking. I’ve got a woodworking shop at home.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. What sort of things do you do?”

“I’m no expert, but I’m trying to learn more things. I used to just do rough construction. Then I got into cabinetry. I made all the cabinets in my kitchen. Now I’m trying furniture.”

“Really! What are you making now?”

“A bed,” said Caleb. “A four poster, king sized bed.”

There was an awkward pause, just enough for each of them to notice it. Then Caleb said, “And you? What do you do when you’re not working?”

“Oh, I like to read. And I chair a lot of committees for fund raising in the city.”

“That doesn’t count. What do you do for
you?”

Lauren stopped and thought. “Well, I’m a pretty good artist when I take the time to get out my paints. And I love interior design. I designed a lot of Charles’s apartment.”

“Ah, Charles, the elusive boyfriend.”

Lauren felt suddenly annoyed. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, trying to control her temper.

“Nothing. Just, well, why isn’t he up here with you? You’d think he’d be interested in seeing where your family came from.”

Lauren gave a nasty little laugh. “There’s nothing that would interest Charles less. He’s got bigger fish to fry than getting to know where my family crawled out from.”

Caleb’s forehead furrowed with disapproval. “Sounds like you’re ashamed of them. I always thought Mrs. Hamilton was a nice woman. I didn’t know her very well, but my father did. Everybody in town liked her. My father went to high school with your mother, I think.”

Lauren took a sip of her beer. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved my grandmother. I spent a lot of summers here. It’s just that…that I set higher standards for myself.”

“Hmm,” said Caleb softly. Lauren felt him looking at her. She looked up from her glass and saw him scrutinizing her carefully. “You don’t seem to be that shallow.”

“I’m not shallow!” Lauren was indignant.

Caleb gave a little laugh. “I don’t mean to judge. I guess it’s an individual thing, you know, what a person considers success.”

Lauren squirmed a little in her chair, suddenly uncomfortable. Caleb said, “Look, your relationship and life are none of my business. I only meant to make you feel welcome in town while you’re here, that’s all. Guess I’ve put my foot in it again, like I did when I came to fix your hot water. Sorry about that.”

Lauren relaxed. “Oh, that’s okay,” she replied. “I just want to get this house business over with and get back to the city. I’ve still got a lot to do to plan my wedding.”

“Oh, yeah? What, for instance?”

“Well, I’m meeting with the wedding planner to discuss the venue. It has to be big enough. We’re inviting a lot of people. Also, there’s the menu, and Charles and I still have a couple of meetings yet with the lawyers.”

“Lawyers?” Caleb blinked his green sparked eyes at her. “Why do you need lawyers for a wedding?”

“Just hammering out the last details of the prenup,” Lauren responded nonchalantly.

Caleb laughed out loud. “Prenup? You’ve got a prenup?”

“Of course,” said Lauren, somewhat uncomfortably.

“Whose idea was that?”