The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (117 page)

“Nothing,” Marc said. “I was just thinking how nice it would be if they were all like that.”

She slumped back in her seat, relief washing over her. “No kidding. I’m about ready to move in myself.”

He chuckled as they cruised past Delarosa Plaza. By its bougainvillea-draped arch was a blue pushcart filled with buckets of cut flowers, the bright idea of Violet Kingsley, a retired florist from New York. She’d named her little stand Petal Pushers.

“For one thing,” she went on, “I’d always be a spring chicken compared to everyone else.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Plus, three meals a day.”

“And high tea—let’s not forget that.”

“I bet they’re big on old movies, too.”

“Still think there are bodies in the basement?” He cast her a teasing glance.

“If there are, I’m sure they deserved whatever happened to them.”

They shared a laugh, and for the first time all day Anna allowed herself to relax.

“Well, I’m glad you found it.” He made a right turn at the light, heading in the direction of Old Sorrento. “I’d hate to think I came all this way for nothing.”

Anna’s happy mood dissolved. This wasn’t a social outing. He was doing her a favor, that’s all. “I couldn’t have done it alone,” she told him, careful to keep her voice neutral. “You really saved me.”

He shrugged. “You’d have managed just fine.” Once again, she had the feeling he was uncomfortable being thanked. Had she been too effusive? It was one of the perils of being cooped up—you tended to overdo it on the rare occasions you got out.

She looked out at the sun riding the shoulders of the mountaintops. They were passing an orange grove, where shadows had gathered in pools between the neat rows of trees, spilling out onto the road. The air blowing in through the vents was noticeably cooler; she’d have to put an extra blanket on tonight.

All at once she couldn’t bear the thought that she might never see him again. What should have been one of the most awful days of her life had turned out to be one of the best, and she didn’t want it to end.

“Well, the least I can do is buy you dinner.” She spoke lightly, her words skipping like stones over the surface of a lake.

There was a long pause, and her breath caught in her throat. Then he replied, “Sounds good, but—” She braced herself. “Only if it’s Dutch treat.”

She relaxed, the breath easing from her lungs. “No way. I owe you a lot more than dinner.”

He hesitated just long enough to send her heart into maximum overdrive, then said, “In that case I accept.”

“There’s an inn out at the lake. I’ve never eaten there, but I’ve heard the food’s good.”

“Do we need to reserve?” He reached for his cell phone.

“This time of day? We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.” At Boulders Inn, the moonlight on the lake was the big draw.

What she hadn’t counted on was the sunset. They pulled into the parking area just as the tangerine sky above the forested horizon was fading to violet, transforming the lake into a sheet of hammered gold. She climbed from the car, pausing to take in the view as she drew in a breath of pine-scented air. Had she ordered this up, it couldn’t have been more perfect. The question was, perfect for what?

“My sisters and I used to go swimming here in the summer,” she told him. “I remember the water being freezing even in August.” She gazed out at the lake, where the gold was deepening to bronze. “Thousands of years ago this whole valley was under water. Every once in a while someone digs up a shark’s tooth or a marine fossil. Native Americans used to trade in them before the settlers came along.”

“You know a lot for someone who doesn’t get out much,” he observed with a bemused smile.

“As a kid I was pretty adventurous.”

“They say people don’t really change; they just get better at disguising their real selves.”

“In that case, I’ve gotten so good at it I don’t recognize myself.”

His smile spread up into his eyes, which fixed on her for a heart-stopping moment. “Keep looking. You’ll find her.”

They started down the slope, toward the inn, picking their way down a path of large flat stones cantilevered to form steps. Halfway down she caught her heel and stumbled a bit. When Marc took her arm to steady her, she prayed he wouldn’t notice her trembling, and if he did, that he’d chalk it up to the cool breeze whispering in the pines overhead.

“What about you?” she asked. “What were you like as a kid?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t know that I was ever really a kid.” She waited for him to explain. “I was the eldest of six. My mom worked two jobs, so I sort of fell into the father role. You grow up fast that way. I think that’s part of why I was so dead set on becoming a pilot—it must have been a desire to escape.” He turned to her, his eyes dark amid the shadows of the trees. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, but it was a lot to handle.”

Anna nodded. “I know the feeling. College couldn’t come soon enough.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Cal State. I was all set to choose a major when …” She shrugged. They’d been over this; no sense beating a dead horse. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

“It’s not too late.”

“What, and go from a spring chicken to the oldest student on campus?” She laughed, but he’d struck a nerve. Hadn’t she toyed with the idea on more than one occasion? “The sad truth is, I’m too young for retirement and too old for college.”

“How about something in between?” They’d reached the entrance to the lodge, built of pine logs as big around as casks. Cabins serving as guest accommodations were scattered along the paths that wound through the woods nearby.

“Like what?”

“You could do an internship while working toward your degree.”

I might as well wish for the moon.
Anna smiled, knowing it would never happen. “Someday, maybe.” Meanwhile she had to support herself and possibly her mother, if Monica didn’t keep her promise.

Marc looked as though he wanted to say more, but to Anna’s relief he let it drop. They stepped into a paneled lobby lined with rustic tables and leather chairs, its walls hung with vintage photos of Carson Springs. There was one of miners panning for gold and another of Old Mission in the days before it was paved, looking pretty much as it did now except that cars had taken the place of horses and parking meters stood where hitching posts once had. Just past the reception desk was a short flight of steps leading down into a spacious cathedral-beamed dining room. A stone fireplace lent a faint smoky smell to the air. Her gaze was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the lake, where a molten trail led to the sun sinking below the trees.

Minutes later, seated at a table by the window across from Marc, Anna allowed herself to imagine that they were on a real date. But apparently Marc didn’t share that feeling; he appeared lost in thought as he gazed out at the lake. Was he thinking of how much he’d rather be here with his wife?

They ordered drinks, club soda for Marc, a glass of Chardonnay for her. It wasn’t until after their waitress had gone that she thought to ask, “Do you mind? Because I don’t have to. I mean, I’m not …” She bit her lip to keep from blurting,
like Monica.

“If it was a problem, I’d be in trouble.” He cast a wry glance at the lively bar scene. “It gets easier with time. If it didn’t, no one would ever get sober.”

She thought of the stories she’d heard at family week. “Was it as hard as they say?”

“Harder.”

“I don’t suppose your … the situation at home made it any easier.”

“No.” He grew very still, his gaze drifting to a point just past her shoulder. Then with a visible effort he shook himself free of whatever memory he’d been in the grip of, saying, “I went out a couple of times that first year—what you normies call falling off the wagon.” He flashed her a rueful grin. “One thing about us drunks, we’ll grab hold of any excuse. And I was feeling plenty sorry for myself in those days.”

“With good reason.”

He shook his head. “That’s the wrong way to look at it. One time I asked my sponsor, ‘Why me?’ You know what his answer was? He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Why not?’ After that I stopped asking why and started dealing with what was.”

“I know it’s not quite the same, but I can relate.” Their drinks had come and she sipped her wine. “I’ve been on every diet known to mankind.”

“I wouldn’t know it looking at you.”

Anna grew flustered. Was he being facetious? No, he wouldn’t be that cruel. “You must like the pleasantly plump type,” she said with a laugh.

He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been the butt of fat jokes all my life. I learned early on that it’s easier if you laugh first.”

He was smiling now, but not in the way she was used to being smiled at when the topic of her weight came up. “I don’t see it. Not even close.”

“I’ve lost a few pounds recently.” She felt self-conscious all of a sudden and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Would he think she was fishing for compliments?

“More than a few, if what you’re saying is true.” His gaze traveled over her, frankly assessing but in no way patronizing. “Though, personally, I think women make too big a deal of their weight. It’s one of the few areas in which men can legitimately claim superiority. We’re not afraid to let it all hang out.”

They shared a laugh, and she felt some of the heat go out of her cheeks.

Talk turned to other things. While Anna went on marveling that there was at least one man on the planet who didn’t see her as pathetic, Marc told her more about his work and about his recent trip to Oregon, where he’d visited his wife’s family. Anna, in turn, told him about her come-to-Jesus with Monica.

“She wouldn’t even hear me out at first, but I gave her an ultimatum: If she didn’t do the right thing, she’d be losing an assistant
and
a sister. Eventually she saw the light.”

She waited for the pat on the head she was sure was coming, but Marc merely nodded as though he’d expected nothing less of her. That he saw her as capable as well as normal-sized was almost more than she could take in all at once.

They dined on smoked trout and baby greens, roast duck breast glazed in port, and homemade huckleberry pie topped with ice cream. It was more than she’d eaten all in one sitting in weeks, but oddly enough she didn’t regret a single bite.

“Why don’t we take our coffee out on the deck?” he suggested. “There’s a full moon.”

Anna felt as if she were floating as she rose and followed him across the room, stepping through the sliding glass door onto the deck. Luckily, it was deserted—too chilly this time of year even for die-hard romantics, though she hardly noticed. She might have been burning with a fever.

Deep redwood chairs were scattered about. When Marc bent to brush the leaves from one so she could sit down, Anna knew for the first time in her life what it was like to be fussed over by a man.

The moon sailed serenely overhead, casting its silver net over the water, so beautiful it made her ache. How often had she dreamed of a night like this with a man like Marc? That he was beyond reach seemed grossly unfair.

They sipped their coffee and nibbled on
biscotti.
The only sounds were the soft chirring of crickets and nightjars, and the breeze murmuring secrets to the pines. She heard a faint plop out on the lake. “Do you like to fish?” she asked, desperate for something to talk about that would keep him from guessing what was in her heart.

“My uncle used to take me. Got to be pretty good at it— I once landed a twenty-two-inch bass. They’re still talking about it down at the bait shop in Susanville.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She smiled.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Let’s just say I’ve known men to exaggerate.”

“We only do it to impress you ladies.”

Anna tried to imagine herself as someone worth impressing, and caught a glimpse of the woman he saw, the woman she could be. The words slipped out: “Don’t worry. I’m sold.” Noting the odd look that crossed his face, she rushed to add, “Not that I’m …” She bit her lip. “What I meant was …”

“I won’t get the wrong idea, I promise.” He flashed her a smile, his teeth white in the darkness.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she blurted, then immediately brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, God. I knew I shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine.” She smiled ruefully. “Let’s just say it’s been awhile since I’ve enjoyed myself this much. As you can see, it’s gone to my head.”

“That makes two of us.” He wasn’t kidding, she could see.

Blood rushed to her head, which buzzed pleasantly. She felt as though she’d drunk a whole bottle of wine. “It … it must be lonely without your wife,” she stammered.

He sat looking out over the lake, where lights twinkled like submerged flames along the opposite shore. “Let’s just say it’s given me a new appreciation for funerals.”

“How so?” She cast him a startled look.

“They’re not for the dead, are they? They’re for us. How can you move on otherwise?” He sat very still, the light from inside sending his shadow spilling over the edge of the deck into the deeper shadows below. “The answer is, you don’t. You just go on … waiting. For something—anything.”

Anna felt something catch in her chest and instinctively reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He turned to look at her in surprise.

“For reminding me that I don’t have the market cornered on misery.”

“I guess it takes one to know one,” he said with a mirthless laugh.

“If I told you how I felt right now, you’d laugh.”

“Try me.”

She drew in a breath. “I was thinking that if this were the last day of my life, I could die happy.”

There was a long pause. “Want to know what
I’m
thinking?” he said at last.

“What?” She shivered, hugging herself.

“I was wondering if any of those cabins were vacant.” He gestured toward the trees, where here and there a lighted window glowed invitingly. Before she could reply, he said derisively, “You see? I’m no better than the next guy.”

Anna was speechless. If she could have found her voice, she’d have told him that far from being offended, she was deeply grateful. Yet all she could manage was, “Did you mean what you just said?”