Marrying Daisy Bellamy (14 page)

The haircut turned out as amazing as Maxine had promised, a shiny bob that skimmed the tops of her shoulders. She tossed her head to and fro; the new style felt light and strange.

Leah did her makeup beautifully, and Olivia insisted she put on one of her new outfits.

“Seriously?” asked Daisy. “My plan for the rest of the day is to pick up Charlie and spend the evening at home.”

“Oh, come on. Humor me.”

In a back room of the salon, she changed into a new pair of dark-wash jeans, heeled sandals to show off her pedicure, and a flowy watercolor top with a scoop neck. Then she stood in front of the salon mirror and stared. “Well.”

“Well is right.”

“I look pretty good. I didn't think I was that bad before, but I look
good
.”

“Everybody can do with a little change now and then.”

 

Charlie took one look at her and plastered himself against his dad. “Mom!” yelled the little boy. “What did you do?”

“I cut my hair. Do you like it?”

“No. Put it back.”

“Hey, buddy,” said Logan. “None of that.” He looked at Daisy, then did a double take, his gaze visibly warming. “It's outstanding.”

“That's what I told her,” said Olivia, bustling into
the house. She and Connor had built the place together, and it had always seemed like a dream house to Daisy. It had everything from a river-rock fireplace to a storybook garden and a picket fence, and was sited perfectly on a slope above the Schuyler River, with a grand view of the lake in the distance.

“How did everything go today?” asked Daisy.

“Excellent,” said Logan. “The kids got along great. The dogs, too, I guess. I don't think Barkis really likes Blake.”

“Nonsense. Everybody likes Blake,” said Daisy.

“Just ask Blake,” said Logan, glowering at the little terrier. “You ready to head home?”

“Sure.” She watched him go around the room, picking up Charlie's gear here and there. The look on Logan's face when he saw her had been gratifying. She smiled, finally feeling an inkling of hope for the future.

“Thanks for everything,” she said to Olivia. “I had a great day.”

“You're going to have a great life.”

“Here's hoping.”

At the door, Olivia grabbed her wrist and leaned toward her ear. “And just a thought—when you're looking for dating material, you might want to try close to home.”

“What?”

“I saw how Logan reacted to the makeover,” Olivia said. “And it wasn't only the way he was staring at you. It was the way you were staring at him.”

Daisy opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia stopped her, holding up a hand. “I'm just saying.”

Really? thought Daisy all the way home. Seriously? Logan?

No way. Getting involved with Logan was too obvious. Something so obvious could never work.

She sat quietly as he drove her and Charlie home. Neither seemed to notice her silence. They were singing an unbearably bad version of “We are the Champions” along with the radio and having a great time. They always had a great time together.

As they passed through the center of town, she said, pretty much without thinking, “How about we stop and pick up a pizza for dinner? I'm too glamorous to cook tonight.”

“Yay!” crowed Charlie from the backseat. “And Dad, too?”

“Of course Dad, too. It would be rude to get a pizza and not give him any.” She hesitated. “I mean, if you don't have other plans.”

“I'm in,” said Logan. “Carminucci's or Sir Lancelot's?”

“Carminucci's, for sure,” Daisy said, “Superior crust.”

At the take-out counter, Logan ordered a large pizza, half cheese, half mushroom.

Daisy regarded him with bemusement. “How did you know I like mushroom pizza?”

“I always know what you like.”

“Hmm.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just trying to decide if that's thoughtful, or kind of stalkerish and creepy.”

“Thoughtful,” he said. “Trust me on that.”

While they waited for the pizza, they took Charlie over to a huge fish tank that occupied one wall of the pizzeria. The little boy loved the colorful fish and worked hard to emulate their bugged out eyes and bubble-shaped mouths.

Daisy loved seeing the world through Charlie's eyes. He never failed to remind her to regard things with wonder and to believe in magic. Of all the cameras she had ever looked through, his was the freshest and most compelling. Sometimes when she was composing a shot, she tried to use what she termed the “Charlie filter.” How would her little boy view the scene? It made for some interesting results.

“Look at that, Momdad,” Charlie said, with his habit of running their names together. “A little man in the tank.”

It was a ceramic scuba diver half-hidden in the colorful reeds, with a harpoon in one hand and an oxygen tank on his back.

“He's hunting for treasure,” said Logan, pointing out the tiny pirate's chest overflowing with riches.

“That's cool,” said Charlie. “But—oh. Look.” He pointed out a small tropical fish lying on its side near the surface. Its blue and black markings were faded, its tiny gills frayed, and it was motionless except for the occasional shudder of movement from the current created by the pump. Charlie tapped his finger against the glass. “I think that fish is dead.”

“I think you're right,” Daisy agreed.

“So it's dead? Like,
dead
dead? It'll never swim again?”

“Doubtful.”

“Will somebody take it out?” Charlie asked.

“I imagine someone will take it out next time they clean the fish tank.”

“But what if they don't?”

“Then it will kind of…dissolve into smaller and smaller pieces until you can't see it anymore.” Daisy
was not loving this exchange. It was a little too close to the reality she had been dealing with in the past year.

When she'd first heard how Julian had died, she'd been haunted by questions that would never be answered, and grim images had disturbed her dreams. Had he been scared? Had he died in pain? Was there a struggle to stay alive, or was death instantaneous?

“Pizza's ready,” Logan said, pulling out his wallet. “I'm starved. What about you two?”

“Starved,” Charlie agreed.

Logan paid for the pizza and a six-pack of root beer.

Daisy sighed, inhaling the smell of freshly baked pizza as they got in the car.

“Something wrong?” asked Logan.

“Not at all. I'm wondering why people bother to eat anything else when there's pizza and root beer in the world.”

 

“Thanks for keeping Charlie all day,” Daisy said later as Logan eased out of Charlie's bed, where he'd spent the past half hour reading him to sleep. Charlie had outgrown the dinosaur bed and now had a regular bed with trendy sheets.

“No problem,” said Logan, gently shutting the door. “Never a problem. You know that.”

“Would you like another root beer?” she offered.

“Sure, thanks.” He took the brown bottle from her. “I need to get going pretty soon.”

“Oh—I didn't mean to stall you, if you have plans…” She'd been feeling slightly awkward all evening, and she knew exactly why. Olivia's whispered suggestion about Logan had planted a seed, and although nothing on the
surface had changed, everything felt different all of a sudden.

“I definitely have plans,” he assured her.

She was curious, but didn't ask. Their relationship had always been a strange dance of intimacy and distance. Due to Charlie, their lives were inextricably entwined, yet separate. She realized it was probably only a matter of time until he met someone special. He was young, successful and undeniably good-looking, with his deep russet-colored hair and leaf-green eyes, his athletic build and an infectious smile.

There was every chance that he would one day give Charlie a stepmother. And half siblings. It was strange to contemplate, but lately Daisy was inclined to face reality and look to the future.

She was dying to know what plans he had but had a horror of seeming nosy.

“I bet you're dying to know what my plans are,” he said.

“I would never pry.” She could tell he saw right through her. “Okay, I'm not
dying
to know, but I'm totally curious.”

“I got a hot date.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.”

“With a church basement full of twelve-steppers.”

Now she felt ridiculous for letting her thoughts run rampant about stepmothers and half siblings. “I see. Sorry if I seemed nosy.”

“Not at all. I hope that's not a problem for you, the meetings, I mean.”

“A problem? Are you kidding? Logan, I think your commitment to your program is amazing.”

He polished off the root beer and emitted a long, satisfied belch.

“Charming,” she said.

“Hey, a guy's got to cut loose somehow.”

She laughed. “Right.” Then she studied him for a long moment. “Does it…bother you, being around people who are drinking and partying?”

“Yes and no. Maybe in the way it bothers a diabetic to walk into the Sky River Bakery when they're putting out the iced maple bars.”

“Ouch.”

“It's okay. I'm going be fine.”

“For good?” She was curious about this program, which had caused him to do such a one-eighty in his life years ago.

“For one day at a time. That's how it works. You don't get any guarantees.”

“Same as everything else,” she said brightly. She put his bottle in the recycling bin.

“How about you?” he asked. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Nothing,” she said. Pretty much what she did every night.

“Then what's with the hair and the new clothes?”

“Oh, this. I decided it was time for a change. For several changes, in fact. Nobody should spend her life being stressed out and sad all the time.”

“Good point. I agree with you there.”

“So I'm getting on with my life. And all this—” she gestured at the hair, the clothes “—is kind of symbolic.”

“Okay, cool.”

She hesitated. Should she tell him what else she'd decided? Probably so. If he was planning to see someone, she would want to know.

“I'm going to start dating,” she said in a rush.

“Who?” he asked, just as quickly.

She laughed briefly. “I haven't thought that far ahead yet. But I have prospects,” she assured him.

“I don't doubt it.”

“And trust me, I will keep Charlie's needs first and foremost in my mind.”

“I know you will.” He studied her for a moment longer. She thought he might say more, but he didn't. “I better get going,” he said.

She walked him to the door. “Thanks again, Logan. For today and dinner and…everything.”

“You bet.” He paused in the doorway. He was certainly staring at her oddly. His gaze slipped from her eyes to her mouth, and he was standing very close. For a wild moment, she thought he might touch her.

For an even crazier moment, she wanted him to.

Then the tension broke, and he headed off into the evening, leaving her alone with her new look.

D
aisy was on a power walk with her friend Maureen Haven, the town librarian. Blake strained at her leash as she lunged toward every bird or squirrel that flitted or skittered across their path.

“Guess what I figured out?” she asked Maureen.

“What's that?”

“I hate dating.”

Maureen laughed. “I hated it, too. Sometimes I think it's the main reason I got married, so I wouldn't have to worry about dating.”

“A likely story. You married Eddie Haven because you fell madly in love with him.”

“Okay, there's that.”

“Why do I have to date?” Daisy whined. “Why can't I just fall in love?”

“As a general rule, one thing leads to the other. Let's work the problem, figure out what you need and where you want to be in your life. We could do some research—”

“Now you're going all librariany on me,” Daisy complained. “Maybe I need to vent.”

“No, you need answers. What is it you can't stand about dating?”

Daisy had to give her credit for persistence. “Let's see. The artificiality of the whole setup. The nervousness leading up to the actual event. The awkwardness. And—oh, yeah, the guys.”

Maureen pumped her arms faster as she walked. “Where are you meeting these guys, anyway?”

“Just around. Through friends. That sort of thing.”

“Have you tried online?”

“Everybody asks me that. No, I haven't tried online.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Or not.”

“Give me a rundown of your dates so far.”

Daisy picked up the pace, wishing she could somehow power walk away from her own life. “My cousin Olivia fixed me up with a guy named Mac. He's a physician's assistant who is planning to go to medical school.”

“That sounds…promising. Was it awful?”

“Let's put it this way—he took me to a chain restaurant—”

“Strike one.”

“And annoyingly modified everything he ordered—you know, like asking for his croutons on the side and an odd number of ice cubes in his Coke—”

“Strike two.”

“And he spent the whole evening talking about how hard the life of a med student is, and how he'll never have time to do anything but study, sleep and work, and how this will go on for years if he wants a specialty.”

“Strike three. He's out of there.”

“Oh, and he tried to grope me in the parking lot when we said good-night.”

“That's foul.”

“Way foul.”

“I take it you crossed him off your list,” said Maureen. “What about the others?”

“Let's see. Then there was Dean from my degree program at school. A fellow photographer. He spent three hours telling me about all the competitions he enters and all the awards he's won. He has four shows a year in Manhattan. It's always great to hear about someone's accomplishments, don't get me wrong. But he has this way of doing it that makes me feel like a total failure.”

“Not good. You need to be around people who leave you feeling better about yourself. Any others?”

“Jerome Cady. He's a teacher at the high school. He was brand-new when I was a senior. I remember lots of girls had a crush on him.”

“Were you one of those girls?”

She shook her head, remembering the chaotic times. Getting pregnant meant she'd had to leave her exclusive Manhattan high school and move to Avalon, spending her second semester of senior year among strangers. The last thing on her mind had been crushes on teachers. “I was too busy gestating.”

“Oh. Well, how is Jerome?”

Daisy sighed. “I think there's something wrong with me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, because he's pretty terrific. Still the best-looking teacher at the school. Teaches physics and coaches basketball. Volunteers at his church. What's not to like?”

“You didn't like him.”

“I wanted to, Maureen. I really, really tried to. It all felt so forced. I kept telling myself, here's this guy. This great guy who seems really into me, and there must be something wrong with me because I wasn't feeling it.”

“It's chemistry,” Maureen said. “No one can explain it. And you can't manufacture it. You can make a list of all the things you want in a guy, but if the chemistry is not there, you're sunk.”

“That's depressing.”

“No, think about it. The chemistry is what helps you see past the surface things and tells you when something is right. In my experience, anyway. I hated dating, too, and I all but gave up. Then Eddie came along and everything about him was wrong for me. Completely wrong. Come on, a librarian and a recovering-alcoholic rock star?”

“You two are great together,” Daisy pointed out, though she did realize they seemed an unlikely match. She didn't know Eddie well but had to admire the way he'd changed his life. He was Logan's sponsor in the recovery program and had probably helped Charlie's dad more than she would ever know.

“That's my point,” Maureen said. “We're a complete mismatch, except with him, the magic is there.”

“I'm not looking for magic. I'd settle for a guy to just be with, and have a good time with.”
I'd settle
. Daisy's own words bothered her. No, the
truth
of them bothered her. And they were true, because the lonely ache that kept her awake at night made her realize that while she waited around to find some guy, life was marching on without her.

“Hang in there,” Maureen said. “It'll happen. When you least expect it, maybe. Isn't life interesting?”

 

Daisy stepped into the foyer of the Apple Tree Inn, her stomach clenching with apprehension. She was a fool. She never should have let Olivia talk her into yet another setup. But Olivia had been persuasive. She had offered to take Charlie overnight so Daisy could stay out as late as she wanted. She had been positive this would be a good thing.

So not only was Daisy on another date. She was on another blind date.

She tried not to act nervous, waiting for her mystery man. She perused the foyer, admiring the art on display, etchings by a local artist. The Apple Tree Inn was the most elegant place in town. Located in a restored historic mansion, and overlooking Schuyler River, it was situated beside an orchard.

The decor was spare, with tables arranged around a smallish dance floor by the piano. The menu, hand-lettered in European script, was enticing, featuring local produce, fish and game. This was a place people came to for a celebration, or for pampering, or…for a surprise.

She was wearing a new dress she and Olivia had picked out together on their shopping spree day. Olivia's judgment had been spot on; the dress fit perfectly and had the kind of fluttery, feminine appeal that made it a perfect date dress.

When she'd shown it to Charlie, he had offered her a wide-eyed stare, a big grin and two thumbs-up. “I have the prettiest mom,” he'd said.

After which she had done their special dance with him, something they'd made up while being silly one day. Accompanied by whatever happened to be on the radio, it was a mixture of ballroom and beat boy.

“I should cancel and hang out with you tonight,” she'd said. “You're all I need.”

“I want to go to Olivia's,” he'd insisted. “I got my Clifford bag.” He loved visiting Olivia and Connor, especially because of his cousin, Zoe. Sleepovers at her house were something special because there was a bunk bed that was exited by a slide, like evacuating an airplane.

Daisy smiled, thinking about her son. Why couldn't he be enough for her? What was she doing, looking for love when the she already had the love of her life?

Okay, I'm going to bail, she thought. Let Mr. Mystery Date make whatever he wanted of her absence. Her heart wasn't in it.

She was digging in her bag—chosen because it looked so good with her shoes—for the car keys when a shadow fell over her.

“Going somewhere?”

Her head snapped up. “Logan! What are you doing here?”

He smiled. “Same thing you are. I'm meeting a date.”

Oh, wonderful. Now she really did need to get away. The last thing she wanted was to find herself in the same restaurant as Logan and whoever he was dating.

“You have fun,” she said. “I have to go.”

“I wish you wouldn't,” said Logan.

He looked wonderful, she thought with a twinge. Like, really wonderful. Good without trying too hard, in a well-cut sport coat over a golf shirt and khakis. It looked as if he'd gotten a haircut, too, and the style made the most of his thick, reddish-brown waves.

She wondered who the lucky girl was. Then she squashed the thought and moved toward the door. None of her business.

He touched her arm. “What about our date?” he asked.

Daisy froze. She thought about her cousin's sneakiness in setting this up. Yes, this was definitely a setup. “You're kidding, right?” she asked.

He merely smiled.

“
You're
my mystery date?”

“Surprise.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake.” In spite of herself, she started to smile. In relief, mostly. Thank God, she thought. Thank God he's not some freak or head case or lech. Finally, a normal guy she actually knew.

“What is going on here, Logan?” she asked.

“Let's talk about it over dinner.”

 

The salads were made of butter lettuce, fresh pears and walnuts. The pianist was playing quiet, unobtrusive songs, drifting through the consciousness like leaves in the stream, notes forgotten as soon as they were struck.

“You're being a good sport about the fruit in your salad,” Daisy pointed out, well aware of his aversion, because he'd apparently passed that on to their son.

“Thanks for noticing. I'm a big believer in separation of fruit, salad and nuts. Tonight I'm making an exception.”

“I've been reading
Peter Rabbit
to Charlie, hoping it'll motivate him to eat more salad. It could backfire, though. It might turn him paranoid that Mr. McGregor will come after him with a rake.”

Logan regarded her across the table. The linens were white and crisp, the crystal glassware reflecting the glimmering candlelight. “Time,” he said quietly.

“I beg your pardon.”

“Time-out, I mean. I'm going to set one rule for tonight.”

She felt an instant prickle of resistance. “What kind of rule?”

“No talk of Charlie, just for tonight.”

“Nonsense. He's all we ever talk about.”

“Exactly. That's why we should try talking about other stuff.”

What other stuff? she wondered. “Why would you want to leave Charlie out of the conversation?”

He took a drink of his Pellegrino water, set down the glass with firm deliberation. “Because I don't want Charlie to be the only thing we have in common.”

The reply startled her. “Okay,” she said. “Then…how about you begin by explaining what all this is about.” She gestured vaguely around the candlelit restaurant.

“You've dived into the dating pool.”

“I said I was going to.”

“So I wanted to take you out on a date,” he said. “Is that so strange?”

“Then why the cloak-and-dagger stuff, getting Olivia to set us up and all that?”

“I was afraid you'd turn me down.”

“Aw, Logan. Come on, what do you take me for?”

“Oh, now there's a loaded question.”

“Do you honestly think I would've turned you down?” After as many disappointments as she'd had, she would have been relieved. No, more than that.
Pleased
.

“I don't know,” he admitted. “At least this way, you're stuck with me.”

“That's one way of putting it.”

“I want to show you a good time.”

She finished her salad and helped herself to a warm
roll from the bread basket. “Well,” she said, “honestly, I think it's working.”

“Cool.”

Their entrées were wonderful. Daisy ordered a terrine of layered roasted vegetables, and Logan had the pan-seared rainbow trout.

Over the course of the meal, Daisy discovered that they had plenty to talk about besides Charlie. She told Logan some of her choice work stories—the bride whose friends shaved off one eyebrow at her bachelorette party, the fainting groom, the canine ring bearer, and they laughed together. He talked about work as well, surprising her when he admitted his struggle to explain to his father that he didn't want to be in the family business.

“They don't get it,” he said, referring to his fiercely proud, successful parents. “O'Donnell Industries was founded by my great-grandfather, and there's been an O'Donnell in charge every generation since. That business, though—international shipping—it's not for me.”

“What don't you like about it?”

“God, where do I start? Just for example, deals are made in bars over tons of drinks. Not really my scene, I guess you know.”

“I do know. I'm glad you know it, too.” Sobriety, she realized, could be a fragile thing, and she was grateful Logan worked so hard to preserve it. “Did you ever say that to your dad?”

“Funny, that's something my sponsor asked me. My sponsor in AA.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And my dad doesn't quite get it.”

“Parents,” she said. “Everybody has their share of problems with parents. Me included. Things are better
with my folks, now that they're so busy with their new lives.”

“Did you save room for dessert?” asked their waiter, coming to refill the water glasses.

“None for me, thanks,” said Daisy.

“Just coffee for me,” said Logan. “On second thought, bring the chocolate raspberry torte, and two forks.”

“You're determined to corrupt me,” she accused him, though she knew the dessert would be delicious.