Second Chances (4 page)

“Sounds to me like someone needs some girl time with her Mom,” he declined as they relaxed on her couch, legs entwined, Amelia’s head resting on his chest. “I’d just be in the way.”

Unwilling to let it go, she’d tried her best to coax him. “I probably haven’t painted the best picture of my mom but trust me she’s no different from yours. She loves her kid and at the end of the day all she wants is for me to be happy and safe.” Raising her head she kissed him lightly on the lips. “She’s dying to meet the guy who makes me feel that way.”

But no amount of sweet-talking or seduction had changed his mind. Later, on her way to South Carolina alone, as the cloud cover cleared and the plane ascended into open skies, she’d played their conversation over and over in her head. Tim was adamant he wouldn’t go but not for the reason she thought. “C’mon Amelia,” he’d huffed exasperated, threading his hands through his hair. “Do you honestly think I’m afraid to meet your mother, the woman who gave me you?”

She’d melted of course, what girl wouldn’t? And she accepted his refusal without further explanation. But she never stopped feeling like there was more to the story.

“Is everything alright Babe?” She wanted to know. “You sound…..off.”

“Everything’s fine. Just great.”

His annoyance obvious, she decided to cut him some slack and end the call. “Well, have a good time tonight. I love you and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

*   *   *

The phone stuck in his hand like glue, a silent reminder of unfinished business. Why didn’t you tell her? His conscious prodded.
I told her what she needed to know
.
I told her what I could.
But you didn’t tell her everything did you?

Probably because he still couldn’t believe it himself. How could he not get a promotion for bringing in the Wilderness Stores account? Even worse, how did Roger get it? Certainly not by kissing every power ass that mattered, and definitely not by working his ass off like he had.He slammed his empty hand on the desk, the harsh sting staining his palm red. It just wasn’t fair.

He smiled bitterly. No surprise there. Fair was not how he’d describe his life, but this was no time for a pity party.It was time to go flash his mega-watt smile, slap a few shoulders, and congratulate the man of the hour on his new 14th floor digs. “I hear the air’s pretty thin up there,” he’d joke, “watch out for altitude sickness.” And everyone would laugh, except him of course. He didn’t find it funny at all.

*   *   *

“Hey,” Ben yawned taking a stool at the breakfast bar where Tim sat reading the morning newspaper, a half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of him. “You going to finish that?” he asked hungrily eyeing the milk-sodden flakes.

“There’s a full box of cereal in the cupboard. Why don’t you get your own breakfast?” Ben frowned as his growling stomach echoed the gruffness of Tim’s voice. Tearing his gaze from the object of his desire, he turned to study his roommate more closely. Something was off. Instead of his usual conservative chic, Tim was sporting more of a casual Friday look, and it was only Wednesday. He was staring intently at the paper spread in front of him like it might get up and walk away, but Ben could tell he wasn’t reading it. And he had restless finger syndrome, fidgeting with the medallion around his neck, turning it over and over again as if it could somehow help.

“You clearly have no intention of finishing that,” he nodded towards the bowl, “so why can’t I have it?”

“Jesus, everything’s a federal case with you isn’t it?” Tim snarled, shoving the bowl towards Ben. “Just take it.”

“Thanks.” Smiling brightly he scooped a hefty spoonful of mush into his mouth. He hadn’t seen Tim this pissed off in a long time and then it had taken every ounce of tact and skill he had to calm him down. Better fuel up before trying to find out what had his panties in a twist this time.

With studied interest Tim watched as Ben munched his breakfast, happy and relaxed despite the impending pressures of the work day ahead. How many mornings like this one had they shared over the years, bickering like an old married couple with nothing better to do than annoy the hell out of each other? Too many probably but Ben had been his first roommate in college and he could never be bothered to find anyone else to live with after that.

Their senior year, Ben had invited Chad to live with them in a small apartment barely big enough for two but rent enough for three. “You’re shitting me,” he said when Ben told him about their new roommate. “What the hell? That guy’s got enough money to live in the Taj Mahal if he wanted to. What’d you ask him to live with us for?”

“Because we could use the extra money and because he’s a good guy,” Ben explained adding softly, “if you gave him a chance you’d know that.”

“Hmmph. Tim snorted. “Chadwick Brown IV’s had more chances than anybody thank you. And more privileges too. That poor little rich boy doesn’t need any help from us. Besides, what could we possibly give him that he doesn’t already have?”

“Friends,” said Ben and he laughed as Tim’s mouth dropped open. “Yeah believe it or not, all the money in the world won’t buy happiness or friends and Chad doesn’t have a lot of either.” So, despite his wishes, Chad had moved in and for Ben’s sake, he’d made a reluctant effort to befriend the guy preordained to one day spearhead one of the greatest publishing empires in the country.

Unlike Chad, familial destiny was not something either Ben or Tim had going for them. When they met, Tim had assumed that Bennington Gray was also the product of a long and distinguished heritage, but he quickly realized that Ben, the middle child of a bank manager and a school teacher, was a nondescript, self-motivated go-getter like himself. Equal parts brain and charisma, Ben was a campus favorite among faculty and students and with his enviable looks and athletic prowess, the guy had legions of both women and men vying for his attention.

To hear Ben tell it, his inherent talent for lawyering became apparent early in life as he was routinely forced to mediate arguments and negotiate settlements between his older and younger sisters. Thanks to them, he’d learned the value of astute listening, the power of carefully chosen words, and the importance of compassion, all of which helped him to develop a commanding triumvirate of skills that set him apart from the pack. In a city full of legal eagles, Ben was a rising star attorney.

Tim sighed. They were quite the trio: Mr. Money, Mr. Popularity, and Mr. Loser. The sound of Ben’s spoon scraping the now empty bowl brought him back to the present. “Why don’t you just lick it clean?” he growled.

“Testy, testy, somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or did Amelia kick your sorry ass out?” Ben teased.

“Shut the fuck up,” he scowled. “She’s not even here.”

Startled, Ben raised his hands against the sudden outburst and tried to apologize. “Whoa, buddy, I was just joking.” Silence settled between them as a sudden thought made him shift a safe distance away. “Is everything okay with you two?”

“We’re fine.” He thought about Amelia blossoming in her new role at Dewes. Was it providence or fate that dropped Pashmina in her lap? It didn’t even matter. Just add Miss Lucky to the list.

“So what’s the problem then? You look mad enough to commit murder.”

“More like hari kari but that’s not a bad idea.”

“You lost me.”

“We won the Wilderness Stores account,” he paused holding up a hand, “but before you get all excited, I didn’t get a promotion to go along with it.”

Ben paused from rinsing his bowl at the sink. “Well that sucks, but at least you get credit for bringing in the account. That has to count for something, if not now, then in the future.”

“And that’s exactly what I thought when the president himself came to congratulate me on a job well done and ‘for my efforts above and beyond’ ” he air quoted. “Then he proceeded to tell me that Roger, my dick-head project co-manager was being promoted to Vice President of the consumer division and I’d have full ownership of the new account.”

Ben was confused. “Full ownership, that’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit.” Tim was on a tear. “I had full ownership of the entire pitch project because Roger didn’t do a fucking thing except agree with my ideas and leave me to build the presentation by myself. He’s the fucking head of Creative but I was the one who worked with his team to craft a creative strategy. He didn’t even come up with one damn story board. So is it good that he’s promoted to overseeing an entire division while I stay in the trenches watching over one little account? Not in my book.”

The men fell silent, Tim staring at his clenched hands as Ben wiped his with a dish towel. Reclaiming his seat at the breakfast bar, he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry buddy.” He stopped then started again. “I know it blows, but is it really the end of the world? I mean nobody died or anything right? “When Tim didn’t respond he asked, “What did Amelia say about it?”

Tim’s head dipped low and Ben understood. “I don’t get it,” he said shaking his head. “She’s your girlfriend for Christ’s sake. Why wouldn’t you tell her?”

“Maybe I don’t want to did that ever occur to you?” Tim’s eyes blazed. “Just because we’re in a relationship doesn’t mean she’s entitled to know everything about me.”

“Entitled?” Ben couldn’t believe his ears. “You think telling Amelia you didn’t get a promotion makes her entitled? Wow, that’s pretty arrogant even for you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means even a self-centered bastard like you should know when someone’s on your side. Can’t you see she’s in love with you?”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell her,” Tim snapped, “nobody loves a loser.” Grabbing the paper, he shook it open with a vengeance. “I’m done with this conversation.”

Ben sat quietly staring at the newspaper now serving as a barrier between them, thinking as the minutes passed. After a while, he reached up and gently pulled the pages down until they were eye-to-eye.

“Maybe it’s time to go to another agency,” he suggested. “It’s always easier to command more status and more money as a new blood than a loyal soldier. Or maybe you should leave the agency world altogether, go corporate and look for an in-house position. Don’t you handle the advertising for Amelia’s company?” Tim nodded.

“So you know something about marketing and publishing. Now all you need is a contact.” Grinning and rubbing a thumb across his chin, Ben pretended to think, “Do we know anyone you can call?”

Throwing the folded paper on the counter, Tim rolled his eyes. “Why would Chad want to help me?” he asked.

Sobered by the question Ben gave an earnest reply, “Because that’s what friends do.”

Wishing he could share Ben’s conviction, Tim grudgingly conceded “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

*   *   *

CHAPTER FOUR

Pashmina stared mindlessly out the living room window of her Beacon Hill home watching her neighbor struggle to remove a decorative fruit wreath from her front door before it succumbed to the powerful forces of the summer storm shrieking outside. Too late, Mrs. Mackenzie could only watch as the gale-like wind ripped demonically through the plastic and wire accessory sending lemons and peaches hurtling down the cobblestone street. Refusing to surrender, she inhaled deeply wrestling the tattered decoration off its hook and into the safety of her home as Pashmina silently cheered.

Turning away from the window, she settled comfortably on the gold patterned couch where the cozy warmth of the crackling fire enveloped her like a soft blanket covering a sleeping child. It was a moderate storm as these things go but a storm just the same and the New England idiom ‘if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute it’ll change’, came to mind.

On the sofa table behind her a wine decanter beckoned, and she poured herself a glass, sighing contentedly as the ruby elixir turned her tired muscles molten. After months of stressful preparation, the book was in Amelia’s hands now and Pashmina could finally relax. Grateful for the respite, she closed her eyes and sank deep into the sofa cushions bringing forth a flurry of memories that scurried through her mind like the fruits from Mrs. Mackenzie’s wreath, some sweet, others not so much.

It’d happened a year ago. She’d just wrapped another book tour and was returning to Greece for her first visit home in a long time. She felt the excitement bubbling inside her before the plane even left New York, eager to see her parents, her brothers and their expanding families. How many nieces and nephews now? Sometimes she lost count. And of course, she thought about Harry.

Thirty years ago, Harry Lynch was a handsome, young midshipman in the Royal Navy with hair the color of burnished copper and eyes as green as the Emerald Isle of his ancestors. Harry was sweet and funny and kind and for a fleeting moment, he was the husband she adored. Then just as quickly, her marriage was over. “It’s the right thing to do,” he’d said and no amount of pleading or crying had earned her any further explanation.

Even now her heart still ached for a life that might have been but inexplicably never was. Harry had moved on, re-married, raised a family and five years ago lost a battle with cancer. Despite the years and distance between them, her love for him had never waned and his death had hit her hard.

Burrowing deeper into the couch, the memories continued to wash over her.