One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) (5 page)

Lance got to his feet, his knees cracking
with the effort. “I hope you’re up to the challenge.”

“You mean, I better be up to the challenge,”
Alexander said. He stood up, walked over to his boss, and accepted
a firm handshake.

*

Seeing both men shaking hands as she turned
into Lance’s office, Marisa did her best to smile even though
inside she felt like crying: it appeared that she’d lost the job
before she even had a chance to interview for it.

Nevertheless, if she had to lose out to
anyone, she was glad that her best friend got the position and not
an outsider. Not wanting to seem like a spoiled sport, even though
she felt her hopes and dreams dying, she held out her hand to
Alexander. “I guess congratulations are in order?”

“It’s going to be difficult to fill those
shoes,” Alexander told Lance, “but I’ll succeed.” Then he turned
and met her gaze with steadfast resolve, took her hand in hers, and
placed his other palm over knuckles, the connotation far from
business-like and more in the vein of amorous feelings. “If I want
something bad enough, I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

Marisa didn’t know if it was the confidence
in his voice or the certainty in his eyes, but for the first time
in her life, she felt her pulse quicken and a gust of heat surge
through her chest at the way he looked at her. Never before had he
appeared so willful, so powerful.

Esther Rollins, the library’s administrative
assistant, strolled past Lance’s door holding an armful of
supplies: a box of pens, files, paperclips, and a stack of printer
paper. With her orange hair done up like a bee hive and wearing a
loose-fitting cream-colored sweater and black slacks that
camouflaged her pear-shaped body, she stopped beside Marisa and
beamed at her. “I’m so happy for you two.”

Marisa never respected those who gossiped,
mostly because she’d always felt the sharp end of false rumors
throughout middle school. And when she saw Esther, she always
reverted to her younger self: skinny legs, undeveloped chest, and
braces that produced an awkward smile, and encouraged boys to
ignore her and girls like Esther to pick on her.

“We’ve all wanted this for soooooo long,”
Esther said, grinning.

Baffled, Alexander glanced from Esther to
Lance and back again before settling his gaze on Marisa. A second
later, comprehension replaced his confusion and he let loose with a
smile. “Well, we didn’t want to say anything, did we?”

Between the episode at the restaurant and
discovering that she lost the promotion only seconds ago, Marisa
started piecing together the unspoken assumptions. “I don’t—I think
you’re all mistaken.” She stared at Alexander. “You see—”

Alexander stepped next to her and wrapped an
arm around her shoulder so that her head rested on his shoulder.
“Come on, we don’t have to pretend anymore. Isn’t this great?”

Marisa expected to see anger or resentment
raging in his eyes. But she found only amusement. Whenever he felt
uncomfortable, Alexander resorted to humor as a defense mechanism.
Now, however, she didn’t detect anything beyond joy.

How could he do this? Didn’t he realize how
this would affect the workplace environment? All the expectant
looks, all the knowing smiles? The incessant questions, the
unavoidable awkwardness? Couldn’t he foresee all the innuendos, all
the…

He shook his head at Esther and rolled his
eyes. “She’s always so concerned about what others would say.” He
squeezed Marisa’s shoulder and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Honey, it’s official now. We’re a couple! The hot topic of the
day.”

“The day?” Esther asked. “Try the week.” She
glanced at Lance, matching his exuberant grin. “The month even.
Heck, we’ve been waiting two years for this.” She poked Marisa in
the arm. “Alexander finally made an honest woman out of you.”

Marisa, growing dizzy, couldn’t catch her
breath. “What’s happening?” She put her hands to her temples and
massaged them. “I came down here to interview. That’s it. All of
this—”

“Everyone will know when they get my email,”
said Esther, trying to persuade Marisa to smile by elevating the
cheerfulness in her voice. “I just sent it out a minute ago, so I’d
guess within an hour everyone will want to congratulate both of
you. They’ll be ecstatic.”

Marisa gawked at her.

“She’s just shy,” Alexander said. “She likes
to separate her career from her private life. I kept telling her:
we’re all adults. Why let something so ridiculous stop you from
experiencing one of life’s greatest pleasures?”

If Marisa denied what everyone would soon
regard as fact, the misconception would hurt Alexander’s reputation
as Assistant Library Director; staff would consider him
untrustworthy. And no matter how she felt about the lie (or losing
out on the position she
really
wanted), she had no intention
of letting others tear apart Alexander’s respectability.

“Darlin’, you’ve got quite a catch here,”
Esther said, giving Alexander a sweet smile. “He’ll treat you like
a queen.”

Forcing herself to regain her composure,
Marisa looked at her shoes, trying to work a smile into her
expression. When she found the desired effect, she met Esther’s
gaze. “I just don’t want anyone to act differently around us. Is
that bad?” She turned to Alexander with a grin that she hoped
looked sincere.

Surprised, he scratched his head, staring
into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. “No. Not bad. Just
unexpected.”

Watching him shift from one foot to the
other, analyzing the look of discomfort in what she now recognized
as a fake smile, she discovered the truth: Alexander hadn’t
instigated the rumor.

A surge of relief flowed through her. Phew!
He didn’t hate her. He didn’t want to make her suffer for rejecting
him. Despite a broken heart, he couldn’t overshadow all of the good
times they had shared over the years, and he still considered her
his best friend.

Maybe he’d realized that they worked better
as friends than lovers. Perhaps they could get past this obstacle.
In spite of the rumor, and the consequences brought along with it,
she felt an outpouring of affection for him that flooded her senses
as sentimentality got the better of her. And Marisa reacted in a
manner that she couldn’t have predicted: tears glistened in her
eyes.

“Oh, look at that,” Esther said, clasping
both hands and bringing them up to her smiling lips. “Such a cute
couple.”

“Agreed,” Lance said, his grin turning sour.
“But it’s a shame finding out like this.”

“What do you mean?” Esther asked.

“Alexander’s leaving us. In two weeks, he’ll
become the new director of the Vista Heights Public Library.”

Jolted by this discovery, Marisa turned to
her best friend and felt…completely confused. Hadn’t he just
accepted the Assistant Director position at this very library? What
vital piece of information had she missed? She studied his eyes,
but this time, she couldn’t read his thoughts. She stood beside the
one person who knew her better than anyone, the one person who
sometimes knew how she felt before even she did, and yet Marisa had
never before felt so alone.

While one part of her was elated that he’d
reached a position few others obtained, she couldn’t help but
wonder what persuaded him to keep that knowledge to himself. Didn’t
best friends share feelings like that?

“Ready for the interview?” Lance asked her,
still smiling.

At a time when she needed to call upon all
of her enthusiasm to get the job and help the library remain a
viable place for the community for years to come, Marisa couldn’t
look past the void in her mind—or in her heart. After all,
Alexander would soon be leaving. She’d never considered that
possibility. It seemed he had a lot more confidence in his
abilities than she thought. And while that thought allowed a streak
of pride to run through her, now that the focus rested on her,
Marisa couldn’t summon the least bit of confidence into her own
disposition.

She nodded and followed Lance into his
office. Turning, she closed the door, refusing to meet Alexander’s
gaze. Doing so would feel like an unsaid goodbye. And she wasn’t
prepared for the most important relationship in her life to
end.

CHAPTER THREE

At the Pizza Haven, a restaurant his family
had gathered at the first Friday night of each month, Alexander
took a seat across from Kelsey and on either side of his parents.
“Sorry, I’m late.”

“You look different,” Kelsey said.

“Yeah, I decided to take a shower today.” To
evade further questioning, Alexander acknowledged her more casual,
but no less attention-getting attire compared with the outfit she
wore at work: she now sported a red T-shirt with two dogs standing
upright, holding syringes and approaching a man and woman with
their heads poking out of cages while a bubble above one dog
proclaimed: “Don’t worry. They don’t feel pain like we do.”

Alexander cherished his close relationship
with his sister, but she questioned everything, which obviously
ranged from animal testing to matters of the heart. Then again, he
doubted he’d love her so much if she didn’t care so much. With just
a few encouraging words and an open demeanor, she could convince
him to divulge every thought and emotion that now swirled through
him.

Their mother had that same ability to a
lesser degree, which also dissuaded him from looking in her
direction. But since she always supported him, just one look would
end with him explaining everything that had happened this
afternoon. Regardless, from the corner of his eye, Alexander
noticed her bestowing him with a genuine smile that rivaled the
intensity of a 120–watt light bulb.

“Any news you’d care to share?” Loretta
Lawford’s wavy, chestnut-colored hair indicated a woman who
remained current with stylish trends, practically daring others to
question that she had celebrated her 58th birthday earlier this
year.

Alexander nodded but didn’t glance at her.
Instead, he chose to glance at his father. “Marisa gave us tickets
to see the Bears in a couple months.”

A few years older than his wife, but without
her ability to age as gracefully, Glenn Lawford released a big
grin. “Hey, that sounds fantastic! That Marisa sure is something
special.”

Alexander couldn’t disagree with that last
statement.

“Anything else?” said his mother.
“Anything—new?” She eyed him with a peculiar expression.

He shook his head.

His father exchanged a look with his son,
neither reassuring nor discouraging him from launching into
whatever occupied his mind. He cut into a roll and lathered some
butter across one side.

Alexander held great admiration for his
father. A retired cop of 35 years, his father always enjoyed
getting his hands dirty, whether it meant arresting the bad
elements of society, fixing cars, or working on anything around the
house that required a set of tools. The strong, silent type who
never started a fight but always ended it; he rode a Harley, loved
to watch the Bears (the only similarity between father and son) and
always dispensed great advice. Alexander couldn’t have strayed
further from the son his father had always hoped to have: someone
more like himself.

For a moment, Alexander reflected on the
time they spent together as he grew up: his father taking him to
the movie theater; trying but failing to interest Alexander in
building the deck he made in the backyard or how to change the oil
in his car; shuttling him to and from baseball games on the back of
his bike.

Although Alexander loved the feeling of the
air brushing against his skin and the sound of the Harley as his
father kicked it into a higher gear, when his father encouraged him
to get a bike after he turned 16, he couldn’t find the courage to
follow suit. He envisioned riding down the street, rounding a
corner, and losing control, sending him skidding across the
pavement, scraping his face, stomach, arms, and legs across the
concrete. Soon after, every time he imagined getting on a bike, an
imaginary sizzling pain spread across his skin. He shivered even
now just thinking about it.

Since Alexander didn’t share his father’s
interest in fixing cars, using his hands with projects, or feeling
the need to arrest criminals, he felt like he could never quite
measure up to the standards his father had set for him. In some
ways, he wished he had taken after his dad, because he admired so
much about him. But he just couldn’t quite summon the same
adventurous spirit his dad seemed to call upon with ease. And
Alexander couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment every time
his father thought about the son he wished to have, instead of the
one he did have.

“All in good time,” his father said, more
interested in eating the bun he buttered than hearing Alexander
talk.

This disinterest spurred Alexander to speak.
“I’m the new Library Director of the Vista Heights Public
Library.”

His father met his gaze and lowered the
roll. “Whatever amount you settled on, they’re getting one hell of
a bargain.” He launched the roll into his mouth. “Really proud of
you, son.”

Most would have heard a muffled statement,
but Alexander, who always paid close attention to whatever wisdom
his father wished to dispense, made out every syllable and tried to
crush the smile on his face. Why did men have such a hard time
showing how they really felt? Whatever the reason, he didn’t
receive that chromosome during birth; he had a heightened emotional
awareness and response that, with the exception of holding back how
long he’d loved Marisa, made it almost imperative that he almost
over-share his feelings with those he trusted. He liked his
affinity for expressing himself, but he also felt that it made him
weak.