Second Time Around (23 page)

Lane and Brandy lay in bed, looking at the ceiling. The shadows of branches played in the moonlight. “You going to be okay?” Lane asked.

Brandy nodded. “You realize how lucky you are, don’t you?”

She hadn’t thought about it much. “Sure.”

“Good. Because not everybody has what you have.” Brandy turned over on her side, snuggling deeper in the covers. “I’m glad you didn’t go to that audition. I don’t know what I’d do if you left Dawson.”

Bangor—1958

David was going crazy. Ever since the wedding-dress fiasco the day before, he’d left Millie alone, certain she’d call. But she didn’t. And she wasn’t answering the phone either. That in itself was strange. Millie lived with her parents. Her mother didn’t work. Millie didn’t really work—except part-time at the hospital gift shop. There was always someone at the Reynolds’ home.

Dina knocked on the doorjamb of his office. “Excuse me, Mr. Stancowsky, but Mr. Reynolds wanted you to have these bids for the school estimate.”

He motioned her inside and she set a stack of subcontractor bids on his desk. She took a step to leave, then stopped. “Is everything all right?”

For some reason, he really saw her for the first time. Though she’d been working as his secretary a month, he hadn’t had time to take notice. Besides, the best secretaries were the ones who were invisible, there when you needed them, but otherwise, a part of the furniture. She wasn’t pretty like Millie, though she was pleasant looking. She wore her dishwater hair in a French roll, making her look older than she probably was. “How old are you, Miss Edmonds?”

She blushed. “Twenty-eight.”

“Hmm,” David said. “Same as me. So you’re married?”

She looked down. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Why not?”

“I… I haven’t fallen in love.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“You’re one of those romantic types,” he said.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I suppose I am.”

“Have you met my fiancée?”

“Yes, I have. She’s lovely. Her father has a picture of her on his desk.” Her eyes strayed to his desk, where there was no such picture.

“Thank you for the estimates, Miss Edmonds.”

David didn’t crave food when it was time for lunch—he craved information. He was stopped at an intersection a half a block from the Reynolds’ home when he spotted Millie hurrying to her car, her arms full of books and notebooks. She hesitated where the walk met the driveway and turned to say something to her mother, who stood at the door. So she
had
been home when he’d last called? He didn’t like the implication. And where was she going? He knew her schedule. Today was
not
one of her days to work at the hospital.

She got in the family car, pulled out of the driveway, and drove away from him. Without making a conscious decision, he found himself following her, hanging back, not letting her see. His mind swam with possibilities. She occasionally tutored, so maybe she was heading to a student’s home, some fifth-grade textbook in hand.

But maybe not.

It was the
not
that made his stomach pull. Millie was a beautiful woman. Desirable in every way. Wavy chestnut hair that kissed her jawline; brown eyes; a smile that had grown more wistful of late, but was still stunning. And though he was no slouch in the looks department either, he’d seen other men look at her. Want her.

She surprised him by turning into the parking lot of the community center. He’d driven by the building often but had never been inside. What did he need with knitting or tango lessons? He didn’t dare pull in behind her, so he went around the block. When he came back, she was already inside. He would have followed her, but the building was small and she’d certainly see him. So he cruised the length of the parking lot, peering in the windows. He spotted her in the next-to-the-last room. A half dozen people were there, some seated at desks, some talking. Millie stood next to a man at the front of the class, her notebook and books held close to her chest, her face serious, her free hand gesturing. He was nice looking in a burly sort of way and had curly red hair—

The voice of Mrs. Stephens from the bed-and-breakfast infiltrated his thoughts:
“A handsome man with curly red hair. Mid-twenties.”

Could this be the same man who’d brought Millie a note with her earring?

No. That was absurd. Bar Harbor was an hour away. Why would a man who worked at a gift shop there be here?

The man stepped away from Millie and she took a seat. He stood in front of the group like a teacher.

And it was clear. His Millie was taking a class.

Without telling him.

His first inclination was to storm inside and confront her right there in front of her classmates. He wouldn’t mind getting a better look at the redheaded teacher. And yet… knowledge was power. And the advantage always went to the one who owned the element of surprise.

Which would be him.

Millie’s mother opened the door. “David.” Her eyes skirted his. Oh, yes indeed, something was up.

“May I come in?”

“Uh… Millie’s not here.”

“I know. I came to see you.”

Rhonda Reynolds fingered the collar of her dress. “Well, then. Come in.” She led him into the living room of the two-story Victorian. “Would you like some coffee? Or a sandwich? I was just making some lunch for Millie when she gets—” She put a hand to her mouth.

The perfect opening. “How is Millie liking her class?”

Her eyebrows rose. “You know about that?”

“Of course.”

He sat on the couch and she took a seat in a rocker. One hand found the other as she rested them in her lap. “She likes it fine. She’s a very good writer.”

A writing class? Why?
“What’s the teacher’s name again?”

“Uh… I’m not sure.”

She was lying. “Is he from around here?”

“Well, I don’t know. I assume so.”

“Because we saw a man up in Bar Harbor who looked like him.”

“Oh. Really?” Her surprise was pulled. She knew something. “Must have been a coincidence.” She stood. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a sandwich?”

“No, thank you.” He stood to leave. There was one more thing to clear up. “I tried calling all morning. Were you both out?”

Mrs. Reynolds sat back down. “No. We were here.”

“Then why didn’t you answer the phone?”

She looked at her hands. “Millie told me about the wedding dress. She didn’t want to talk…” She glanced at him, then down again. “Last night, Ray spoke to me about staying out of it. I don’t want to be a bother, David.”

“You won’t be, I’m sure.”

“But…”

“Yes?”

“I hate to see Millie so upset. A girl only gets one wedding.”

“Which is why some guidance is needed to make it perfect.”

Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. “Perhaps perfection shouldn’t be the goal?”

He stood in front of her and took one of her hands in his. “The Reynolds name means something in Bangor. Mariner Construction is a well-respected business here. In some ways I’m a newcomer, an outsider. I am very honored to be a part of this family, and I wish to continue the legacy.” He smiled. “Aren’t you eager for grandchildren?”

“Of course.”

He gave her hand a pat before letting it go. “Then let me do what I need to do for the future legacy of the Reynolds line. Let me honor you and your family with the perfect wedding.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

Case closed.

The call from Millie came an hour after he returned from visiting her mother. “Hello, David.”

He took the offensive. “So. You decide to make contact again? It’s been an entire day, Millie.”

“Mom said you came by.”

“When were you going to tell me about the class?”

“It’s nothing. Just a creative-writing class. Adult ed. Two mornings a week.”

“Since when do you write?”

“I’ve always enjoyed writing. I took some classes at Beal College—”

“You dropped out.”

“Because Father wanted me to work at Mariner. I’d still be working at Mariner…”

“If it weren’t for me. I told you. I want to be the provider of the family. There’s no need for you to work beyond a little part-time diversion.”

“But I want to work more. I need something to do, David. I can’t sit around all day twiddling my thumbs. I have a brain. I’m smart. I have something to offer the world besides… oh, never mind.”

“So being my wife isn’t enough for you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

He heard her sigh. “I just look at my mother, at how she thinks little about anything beyond this house. I’m interested in the whole world, David. Eisenhower, de Gaulle, the threat of communism, the space race, desegregation.”

“You get out. You work at the hospital.”

“In the gift shop. That doesn’t change anyone’s life.”

He laughed. “You want to change people’s lives?”

“Don’t laugh at me, David.”

He had to be careful. A woman’s ego was fragile. “You’re going to change my life, dear one. You’re going to make me the happiest man in the world.”

“So you say.”

He sat forward in his chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?

There was a pause. “I’m just tired. I need to know if you’re going to give me a hard time about the class.”

“And if I do?”

“It’s not hurting anything, David. It’s not taking one minute away from my time with you.”

“I assume you have homework?”

“Yes… but I’ll do it during the day, before you come home. I promise. It won’t affect you in any—”

“What was your teacher doing in Bar Harbor?”

Silence.

“Millie? I asked you a question.”

“I believe my teacher’s aunt is the one who owns the gift store where I lost my earring.”

“Yesterday you said the man was probably the proprietor’s son. You acted like you didn’t know him.”

Silence again. Then she said, “He mentioned it to me today. When his aunt asked him to return the earring to the hotel, he recognized my name. I didn’t know it was him until he said something.”

“Why didn’t he just wait and give you the earring in class?”

She cleared her throat. “Are you going to stop by for dinner tonight? Mom and I were going to make meat loaf, your favorite.”