Finding Abigail (7 page)

“I did, and I’m
stuffed. Like I told Nick earlier, you have the best pasta in town.”

Marco smiled,
turning to Nick. “She said that?”

“She did.”

“Don’t let this
one go. Now enjoy the mousse, it’s also the best in town.” He gave me a wink,
and then walked away, heading for the kitchen. I cringed at the thought of
eating dessert. I was so full, if I was wearing pants, I’d pop a button. But
what could I do? He went to so much trouble by pre-ordering it, I had to have
at least a small piece.

Nick placed the
knife on the mousse, tracing two lines on the creamy chocolate, raising his
eyebrows at me in question.

“Smaller
please.” I watched as he cut a thin slice and placed it on a plate for me,
taking a larger one for himself.

Taking a bite
of the velvety, smooth chocolate, I was pleasantly surprised by the flavor.
“Mmm, that is
fabulous
. I’ve never had chocolate mousse before. God, I’ve
been missing out.”

“Well, I have,
and Marc’s right, this is the best.”

I took another
bite and savored it, wishing I could have more, but knowing if I did I might
vomit on my date, which probably would ensure that there would not be a second
one. “So who was the girl you brought here last time?” Setting my spoon onto
the table, I leaned back in my chair, hoping a breather would help my bursting
stomach.

He winced,
lifting up his wine glass, holding it midair. “I was hoping you’d forget you
heard that. He’s not very smart talking about another woman while I’m out with
someone as beautiful as you.”

My cheeks
heated as I stared down at my half gone dessert, feeling uncomfortable with his
words to describe my appearance. “Oh, come on, I know you’ve dated before.”

“Well, my
brother set me up, and it didn’t go very well. She was a bit of an airhead, had
the personality of a tree.” I laughed. “Anyway, he doesn’t do that anymore.”

“I’ve had a few
setups myself. And after the last one, I’d rather eat glass.”

His lips turned
upwards as he lifted his wine glass. “To horrible blind dates and never having
them again.”

I touched my
glass to his with a clink, the white liquid sloshing inside, before taking a
tiny sip.

I absently
lifted my locket, rubbing the lace on the front; the metal was cool against my
skin.

“That’s a nice
locket. Is there a picture in it?” he asked, pointing with his fork.

“Yes, of my
mother and father. My dad gave it to me when I was eight. I lost it a year
after he died. I was heartbroken. My mother found it last week. Now I’m never
taking it off. That way I’ll never lose it again.” Just the feel of it around
my neck gave me comfort.

“When did your
father die?”

I swallowed the
lump in my throat that usually accompanied that question. My father’s death was
still a vivid memory in my thoughts after all this time. “When I was twelve.”

Placing his
hand over mine, he said softly, “I’m sorry.” The gesture was sweet, and I
appreciated it.

The waiter came
and cleared our plates, interrupting before the tears started.

As we sat in
his pine-scented SUV outside my apartment, with Aerosmith playing through the
speakers, he laid his large hand on my thigh. His body heat seeped through the
material of my dress. “I had a great time with you tonight, Abby. I hope we can
do this again sometime.”

Meeting his
gaze, I replied, “Me too, and thanks again for a great dinner.” My hand clasped
onto the handle, preparing to open the door slowly. I wasn’t really sure what
to do, when he reached out to stop me. I turned to see him leaning toward me.
His fingers gently brushed my cheek, and then his lips touched mine softly.
Leaning into him, I returned the kiss. It didn’t last long, but it sent sparks
flying. “Goodnight,” I whispered, opening the door and stepping out.

I watched him
pull away through the glass front doors of the building, and then with a sigh I
headed upstairs.

A little later,
as I lay in bed under my warm duvet with a book leaning open on my chest, too
preoccupied to read, I thought of the evening. As dates went, I had to admit it
was pretty good. He was sexy, sweet, charming, and a good listener, and he
seemed to care about what I said, unlike some other dates I’d had in the past.
Their eyes would glaze over as I spoke, waiting for the moment when they could
bring the conversation back to themselves.

He kept up his
longtime friendship with Marco and it sounded like he was close to his family,
all signs that he cared about his relationships. Picking up my book, I tried to
read again, hoping to take my mind off the man who had suddenly moved into my
thoughts, suitcases and all.

Just as I was
getting into a hot sexy love scene, the shrill sound of the phone interrupted
me. Reaching for my cell on the nightstand, I managed a soft, “Hello?”

“Just wanted to
make sure you made it up to your apartment safely and to tell you again how
much I enjoyed your company.” Nick’s voice was low on the other end.

I smiled,
leaning back against my pillow. “I’m home safe. And I had a good time too.”

“Good. I’ll
take you out on Wednesday. I’m usually off at three unless something comes up.
We can go to a baseball game.”

“Who’s
playing?”

He made a raspy
deep sound that sounded like a chuckle. “The Monkeys. The best Little League
team in the city.”

“Your nephew?”
I asked, laying my paperback down on the pillow next to me.

“Niece. She
found out I had the night off and has been bugging me to come and watch her. I
hear they’ll have no problem beating the Warriors.”

I laughed.
“Sure, sounds fun.” I could hear music in the background and a car horn; I
realized he was still driving. I couldn’t decide how I felt about the fact that
he called before he even made it home, but I felt a tingle of something similar
to giddiness in the pit of my stomach.

“I’ll pick you
up at six. I’ll even buy you a hot dog.” His voice on the phone was deep and
sultry.

Fingering the
edge of the mattress, I replied, “Well, I definitely can’t say no now.”

Another raspy
chuckle. “Sweet dreams, Abby.”

“Goodnight,
Nick.”

I hung up,
grabbed my book, and read until my eyelids started to droop. When I finally
closed them, all I could see was the image of us kissing in his car, and
realized I couldn’t wait to see him, so we could do it again.

I dreamed I was inside the story of one of my novels, but
instead of Petunia the little witch, lost inside the creaky bone forest, it was
me, walking along the muddy path. And I was being pelted with monkey feces,
which was strange, considering in the actual tale, Petunia was hit with Tootsie
Rolls.

A booming voice echoed through the trees, soaring with the
wind. “Abby, it’s me.” For a moment I thought it was God, but since the voice
was female, that idea was highly unlikely. I tried to ignore the loud intrusive
words as I teetered on a rickety old bridge made of what looked like femur
bones tied together with dental floss. I had just about reached the safe, solid
ground when the loud voice started up again. “Abby!” the person bellowed,
making the bones and the forest disappear.

I awoke slowly, hearing Debbie’s voice on the answering
machine, yelling for me to pick up. I reached over to my nightstand searching
for the phone. Once I felt the hard plastic handset, I pushed the talk button.
“Hello,” I groaned groggily.

“You sound
perky. Why didn’t you answer the phone? How did your date go? Why are you still
asleep?” Debbie’s voice was loud, and full of questions.

My head
throbbed just trying to process and answer each of her inane queries. Rubbing
my fingers onto my temples I breathed in deeply. “Debbie, why are you calling
so early?” My voice was muffled as I spoke into my fluffy silk pillow.

“It’s nine.
You’re usually up by now. What time did you get home?”

“Ten, but I
read until two.”

“Figures. So,
how did it go? I need details.”

As I brushed
the hair out of my eyes, I turned over, staring up at the white stippled
ceiling, concentrating on a small crack near the low-hanging light fixture.
“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “He took me to Marco’s, who by the way is
Nick’s friend. We ate dinner and talked, and then he gave me a goodnight kiss.”

“How was it?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

I closed my
eyes, remembering my time in his car, almost smelling the pine scent of the air
freshener hanging from his rearview mirror, hoping to prolong the kiss next
time. “Firm lips,” I finally answered.

She sighed
dreamily. “Hmm, I like those.”

“And he’s
taking me to his niece’s Little League game on Wednesday.”

“Meeting the
family? He must be smitten.” The sound of tapping came from her end of the
phone, which meant she was drumming her pen on her desk. An irritating habit she’d
had since we were roommates in college. “Hopefully he can get you out of your
apartment more than once a month.”

I grinned; her
constant nagging was a strange comfort. Something I could always count on.
Although she didn’t have to know I felt that way. “I choose to ignore that
comment because I’m in a good mood. Now if there’s something you wanted besides
your usual insults on my personal life, I should get up and get to work.” I lay
still on my bed, with no intention of getting out of it—yet.

“My daily
insults are what keep me going.” She laughed. “By the way, how is the book
coming?” Her voice changed to professional mode.

“Great, I’ll
probably finish the first draft today and the rest by the end of the week.”

“Good. Okay, I
got to go. See you later.”

I hung up,
wrapped my blanket tightly around my neck, and fell back to sleep, where I
stayed for another hour until my growling stomach woke me.

After my
shower, I wolfed down a bowl of cereal while standing at the counter. Now that
I was finally finished procrastinating, I sat down to write the final few
pages. Suzie’s return journey home on the bus. She saw many different types of
people and watched closely as a mother shushed her baby. A blind man with his
hand on a seeing-eye dog. A little boy crying, because he dropped his ice cream
cone. Suzie’s day was full of adventure and she couldn’t wait for the next one.

I scrolled back
to the first page and began my rewrite.

The rest of the
morning flew by. I enjoyed editing; that was my opportunity to breathe life
into the story, now that the basic plot was laid out. I often compared it to
painting ceramics. My mother forced me to take a class with her when I was
younger, where I painted a puppy. Once the base coat was applied, I learned to
dry brush with a lighter color, making the fur appear almost lifelike. I still
have the little pug, sitting on my dresser.

When I finished
half, I took a break. The book itself wasn’t long, so I’d be finished by
tomorrow, and then I’d start on the illustrations. Drawing wasn’t my strong
point, so I sometimes hired an illustrator. But when the story didn’t call for
detailed pictures, I usually tried to do them myself and this was an easy book.
All that was needed was a house, Suzie, of course, the bus, and the mall. I had
taken a few art classes, but drawing was not my passion, not like writing
anyway, especially for children. When I was in college I dreamed of writing the
great American novel. I longed to be the next Jane Austen or
Charlotte Brontë
, but after my niece and nephew were born, I changed my mind.
Watching their faces come alive as I read a story to them made me rethink my
goals. I had a few beginnings of novels stashed away for the future, but right
now this was where I wanted to be in my career.

My stomach
growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since the cereal this morning. I
glanced at the clock and saw that I had missed lunch. Pushing away from my
desk, I dashed into the kitchen to make a sandwich.

My mind was on
Suzie, contemplating her next adventure, while I poured juice into a glass. As
an idea formed in my crowded brain, Suzie in a pink bodysuit and tutu, twirling
around a ballet studio, I felt something liquid splash my bare toes. I absently
glanced down to see that red fruit juice had formed a puddle around my foot.
Damn it! My cup had overflowed, and I was too preoccupied to notice. I wiped
the mess up and took out some bread, ham, and cheese.

I assembled the
sandwich, popping some cheese in my mouth as I prepared it. Then I grabbed a
Coke out of the fridge and retreated to the living room to watch some TV while
I ate.

It took me the
rest of the day, but I finished the written part. Tomorrow I would start on the
illustrations. Debbie called later to tell me about her date with Brian. He
took her to his favorite pizza place and then the batting cages. She had a
ball—no pun intended.