Turning the Page (27 page)

"You what?"

"I didn't know what else to do." Melanie sounded very much like a twelve-year-old defending herself against a grounding she knew she deserved. She looked at her hands as she tried to

explain the turmoil she'd felt that morning. "It was such a mess. Sam was so mad and Ben just

looked...God, he looked so hurt. And Taylor...she just wanted to make everything okay. It was

too much. I couldn't take it."

"So you ran like a coward."

Melanie's head snapped up, eyes suddenly angry. "That's not how it was."

Lynda wasn't cutting her any slack at all. "That's what it looks like from here."

"You weren't there, Lynda. You don't know." Sam's words echoed in her head. I'm not the one playing both sides of the fence...

"All I've been able to think about is how I've turned Taylor and Ben against each other.

Taylor's mom is dead. They need one another. What they don't need is me driving a nice, fat

wedge between them."

"You know, it's funny." Lynda sat forward with her elbows on her knees and looked Melanie

squarely in the eye. "I would have never pegged you as somebody who wouldn't stand tall to

face down a problem. I thought you were one of the strongest people I've ever met." She

shrugged. "My mistake."

Melanie didn't know what to say. Deep down, she knew Lynda was right. That didn't make

admitting it any easier. She returned her gaze to her hands, feeling foolish and embarrassed.

It was true, she had been busy since her return to Rochester the day before, but it would not

have been that difficult for her to take five minutes out and pick up the phone to cal Taylor.

The problem was, she didn't know where Taylor stood. Melanie missed her terribly, but she

was mortified that she had come between her and her father, and she was discomfited by the

situation in general. Most of all, she was terrified that Taylor would never want to see her

again. Rather than face that reality head-on, Melanie chose to simply stay away and hope

everything would just blow over on its own.

Lynda was right. She was a coward.

Lynda could practically see the train of thought as it chugged through Melanie's head and

across her smooth face, and she knew she had struck home with the harsh comment. Before

she could utter another word, the bell over the door jingled and a handsome, middle-aged man

stepped into the store. By the expression of sheer panic that suddenly appeared on Melanie’s

face, Lynda guessed it to be Benjamin Rhodes, the flower dude.

"I gotta go help Julie," she said, standing, patting Melanie's knee as she did so. "Come see me later."

With that, she was gone. Melanie stood awkwardly facing Ben, shifting her weight from one

foot to the other, the only sound being the pounding of Glen's hammer outside.

Ben seemed equally uncomfortable, but managed to speak first.

"Hi, Melanie."

"Hi, Ben." He looked dashing in his black, double-breasted suit and black and cream-striped tie, black leather briefcase dangling from one hand. He made a show of looking around, nodding

his approval.

"It looks wonderful in here. And the exterior...nice color choice."

Somehow, the pretense of small talk was more unbearable than the silence. Melanie barreled

ahead with the inevitable.

"Ben, I'm sorry about the other day...I..." She had trouble with her words, unable to find the right ones to express what she wanted to say...not really sure what she wanted to say, anyway.

Ben silenced her stumbling with an upheld hand and a small grin. "You and I have a lot in

common, Melanie." At her puzzled expression, he ticked them off on his fingers. "We're both intelligent, we both like and dislike the same things about Corporate America, we both love my

daughter..."

Melanie was annoyed to feel her eyes fill with tears, and she looked away. She was more

annoyed that she couldn't think of any response.

"I won't say this has been easy," Ben continued. "You're the first woman since my wife died that I had serious thoughts about.

The first one I thought maybe I could have something meaningful with. I'm not telling you this

to make you feel bad. It's just a fact."

"I do feel bad," Melanie said, unable to keep a tear from slipping down her cheek.

Ben smiled warmly. "I know you do. You're too kind not to. But, there's no reason. Taylor and I are adults. We've talked. We'll get through this. We're okay."

Melanie blinked. "You are?"

Ben shrugged. "Well, I'm okay. I've dealt with things, and I understand them. Taylor, on the

other hand..." He let the sentence dangle.

Panic gripped Melanie's heart in its fist, and her stomach threatened to rebel against her at

the thought of Taylor being anything but happy. "Taylor what? Is she all right?"

Ben smiled at the undisguised concern. "No, I don't think she's all right. I think she's

miserable, Melanie. She's miserable without you. She'd never admit it, but she misses you so

much it's tearing her up. And if she knew I was here talking to you, she'd kill me."

Melanie snorted a laugh through her tears. "It'll be our secret."

"You haven't called her."

"No, I haven't." Melanie sighed. "This is a lot to deal with, you know?"

"She deserves to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, don't you think?"

Melanie nodded silently.

"Maggie wore her out, Melanie." Ben's voice hardened. "She wore her out and I watched, helpless. She put my daughter through the emotional wringer, and I don't want to see that

happen again. Taylor's like her mother, she pours her heart and soul into things she loves,

without restriction. Anna used to say Taylor was the most passionate person she'd ever known.

If you can't handle that, you need to tell her. Now. Before it's too late to save her from

another disaster."

He was amazed with himself. He was actually talking on a strictly emotional level, although he

did have to admit that it was much easier when he wasn't referring to his own emotions.

Melanie was amazed, too, not only by the wisdom of Ben's words, but by the fact that she'd

acted so blatantly selfish by not contacting Taylor even in some small way. She'd never

considered herself a selfish person. Now, she was faced with the fact that maybe there was

more of Samantha in her than she cared to admit. The thought only made her feel worse.

Chapter Twenty-seven

"YOU DON’T SMILE anymore, Ms. Rhodes. You okay?" The question was innocent enough and

meant to be kindly inquiring, but it made Taylor's eyes mist just the same.

"Oh, I'm fine, Nina," she replied to the radio station's receptionist, as she passed by the front desk and headed back to her own.

She carefully pasted on a phony smile in an attempt to show she was tel ing the truth. "Just

tired. Thanks for asking, though."

Nina didn't look the least bit convinced, but she let it slide, turning her braided head to

answer the ringing phone lines.

Taylor retreated to her desk, shaken up by the question. She thought she'd been hiding things

pretty well, but apparently, people could see right through the facade. No, she wasn't okay.

She hadn't been for several days, and she had no idea how to pull herself out of this funk the

whole situation with Melanie had put her in. She wasn't eating. She wasn't sleeping. She was a

mess, and she didn't like it at all. The same thing had happened when she'd finally realized she

and Maggie were never going to survive. Try as she had, she couldn't consciously pull herself

out of that, either. She'd had to wait it out, something she didn't do well.

She just didn't understand. Or, maybe she did. Taylor liked to think that she knew Melanie

pretty well. She didn't think the redhead played mind games or was prone to lying. She

seemed straightforward, kindhearted, and loving. Taylor's best guess was that either Melanie

was concerned about the condition of the relationship between Ben and Taylor, or she needed

solitude to deal with her new alternative sexuality. Or both. There were no other logical

explanations for the way she had just high-tailed it out of the city. Hell, she'd high-tailed it

right out of the state. If she had simply been playing, merely been experimenting, she would

have just said so, right? She could have said so and just laughed it off. Thanks for the fun

time. Have a nice life. Easy, right?

Of course, there was the other possibility Taylor didn't want to acknowledge. The possibility

that Melanie regretted the whole incident, that she wished it had never happened. Taylor

decided that might actually be worse than the other choices. Please, don't let that be the

case.

Any attempt at an explanation would have been nice, though, not to mention considerate. A

phone call would have been even better. But, the silence was deafening for Taylor. It was

Thursday. It had been almost five days since that disastrous Saturday morning, and not

hearing from Melanie at all was absolutely breaking her heart.

Her two "angels" were no help. One sat on her shoulder, crying non-stop. The other stood with its arms folded over its chest, shaking its head, a look of "I told you so" plastered glaringly across its face.

"Get lost," Taylor scowled at it. It stuck its tongue out at her.

Why did this keep happening to her? Why did women treat her this way? She felt an

unwelcome wave of self-pity wash over her.

She was a good girlfriend. She was considerate and sensitive and loving and attentive. Why did

she keep getting stepped on? Her feelings were deeply hurt, but part of her was just, simply

put, pissed off.

She looked at the list of names she'd pulled off of her voice mail. She hadn't even been able

to throw herself into work, which was how she would normally handle a lousy situation. She

just didn't want to deal with anybody. More than anything, she wanted to go home, curl up

under her goose down comforter, and sleep until the world went away.

Since that was obviously not the healthiest method of dealing with life, she decided she'd

better at least pretend she was still paying attention to her job. She glanced at the list on her

desk and reached for the handset of her telephone, just as it rang.

She snatched it up. "Taylor Rhodes."

"Hi."

The sound of that one word was magical. Taylor felt all her anxiety slipping away, like a layer

of ice melting off of her frozen body. Her throat closed, and she couldn't speak.

"Taylor? It's Melanie." The voice faltered a bit, unsure.

"I know. Hey."

"Hey yourself." The relief was apparent.

"Are you okay?" Taylor asked.

Melanie chuckled. "You are something else, Taylor. You know that?"

"What do you mean?" Taylor asked, honestly puzzled.

"I mean, I take off on you without so much as a backward glance, yet you ask if I'm okay.

You're amazing."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Okay. Are you okay?"

There was a pause. "Yeah. I'm okay. And I'm sorry I didn't cal . But, I think we need to talk.

In person."

Taylor felt anxiety churning in her gut, a sour mix of excitement to see Melanie again and

dread over what she might have to say.

We need to talk rarely meant that something good was about to happen. "Are you back in

town?"

"Yeah. Um...are you busy tonight?"

"No," Taylor said, too fast. Melanie chuckled. "No, I'm free tonight. Do you want to meet someplace?"

"Wel ," Melanie hesitated, not sure how Taylor would take this. "I thought maybe you could...

um... come to my apartment."

Taylor blinked in surprise, feeling a bit hurt at this news of which she was unaware. "You have an apartment?"

"Uh huh."

"Wow. That was fast. Um...yeah, okay. Where is it and what time do you want me to be there?"

Melanie gave her directions. "Does seven work for you?"

"Seven's fine. I'll see you then."

"Great."

Taylor hung up the phone slowly, not quite sure what to make of the call. Melanie wanted to

talk. She was back in town, and she wanted to talk. This could be good. She also had an

apartment. An apartment? When had she secured that, and why hadn't she shared it with

Taylor? That was bad.

Contrary to what she'd been telling herself for the past several days, hearing from Melanie

hadn't managed to make her feel the slightest bit better. In fact, she felt more anxious than

she had all week. She felt her stomach churn, threatening to toss its emptiness up onto her

desk.

Chapter Twenty-eight

TAYLOR STOOD OUTSIDE the huge house, looking up at the windows and trying hard to

steady the hammering of her heart.

The house was beautiful. And enormous. Taylor guessed it contained at least five apartments,

maybe more. It was an elegant light blue with white trim. The open porch was supported by

large, round pillars that Taylor walked between to get to the ornate glass and wood front

door, positioned directly in the center. She read the list of names near the doorbells and

found the obviously new "Larson" next to number four. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Taylor pushed the button, then raked her fingers through her loose hair, hoping she looked all right.

"Taylor?" the voice crackled over the intercom.

"Uh huh."

"Come on up. Number four."

A buzzer sounded, and Taylor pulled the front door open.

The foyer was as beautiful as the outside of the house. Done in dark wood and burgundy