Chapter 14
14
Samantha
Marshall, one of our part-time employees, showed up with a take-out tray of coffee. “You are an angel,” I thanked him, snagging the paper cup with my name in wide black marker scribbled on the side.
“It was the least I could do. Where did all these people come from?”
When I said our shop was busy, I didn’t mean the old school black Friday kind of rush from internet videos. Rather, having more than two people checking out our stock was an anomaly. There were currently five potential customers wandering about and two more had just sauntered in. Much of our business came through our internet shop, which kept us afloat, but it certainly was fun to have individuals beside each other to chat with.
To think this was all because of the rumor I’d witnessed a murder. That was fine, I’d take it. I’d stopped correcting people after the first few days due to both exhaustion and the realization it was better they thought I’d had a front row seat.
My father now had a compelling platform from which to gather sympathy and attention and my mother was calling me multiple times a day to make sure I was okay. I was fine. Yes, it was disturbing but it was also something one was bound to stumble on sooner or later living in the city. Chad wasn’t the first person to die in the middle of the street. Where my parents had lived in fear of negative public associations because of my sister, they now almost reveled in it, weaponizing it. Instead of society villainizing my family, we were now heroes, survivors.
An image of the tall, beautiful man with the shiny hair entered my mind. What had he been doing there, and on the wrong side of the police tape? My face flushed with heat, remembering how I’d been stunned speechless by his eyes when he’d come in here asking for a book. So unprofessional. He probably thought something was wrong with me. Still, I’d hoped he’d stop by again. Maybe this time, I’d talk.
“I can’t believe how many candles we’ve sold,” Toni remarked. “I guess it's good I accidently ordered too many.” She referred to a time when she’d added an extra zero to one of our stock orders. They were popular, especially with the embellishments we added. We etched designs into the wax, dyed the outer cores, fixed fragrant herbs around the bases, and added many other small flourishes that made them a favorite.
I smiled at her. “Add that extra zero again for our re-stock.”
Toni smiled brightly at me while I picked up my coffee cup. Marshall was out on the floor helping a customer, gesturing with his hands, explaining... something. He had more knowledge of the occult than Toni and I put together. One would think I’d study the subject more, but I stuck to herbal remedies and essential oils. The most interesting thing I knew was that rose quartz attracted love—beyond that, not a whole lot. Still, I collected rocks and crystals, other small curiosities, and had them displayed around my home.
“Jesus. Who’s that?” I looked up after Toni’s admiring tone snagged my attention. The man I’d danced with for a couple minutes the other week was walking straight toward the counter, his light blue eyes sparkling at me. Uncertain what to do, I just stood there waiting.
“Samantha,” he greeted me and then glanced around the store, pausing to send Toni a small smile. “Forgive me for interrupting but you’re not answering your phone.”
My phone? Crap. I’d left it on the counter on the far side of our work area and forgotten about it with all the extra activity. I darted for it quickly, leaving Matthew standing near the cash register. “It’s been a bit hectic here,” I threw him an apologetic look, slipping my phone into my pocket as I returned to the counter.
He bit his lip, tapping a couple fingers on the wooden surface of the counter, and lifted his eyes. “Have you had lunch yet?”
“I’ll be eating here,” I replied. Something flickered across his eyes, as if they reflected the light streaming through the windows.
“That’s a shame,” he said.
I shifted my legs. “I’ll see you this weekend?” The opera was coming up fast, and I still had to get my dress.
“I look forward to it. Enjoy your day, Samantha.” He was easily a foot taller than anyone currently in my shop. I watched him stroll away, hands in his dress slack’s pockets. The fabric of his suit jacket looked both soft and warm, the distinct cut of an expensively tailored suit setting him apart from the patrons browsing.
Toni leaned against the counter, and I caught Marshall giving Matthew a quick, knowing perusal as if he recognized the man. I’d have to ask him what he knew later.
“Oh man, I thought he was gonna have to duck through the door. I was gonna bet you twenty bucks, but I was distracted and missed the chance. I would’ve lost,” Toni said, jokingly.
Laughing, I said, “Go for it. Tell him you’re free for lunch.” It was obvious she was attracted to him while I was still undecided whether I’d pursue him or not.
“You have a date with him,” she pointed out. I shrugged.
It might’ve been a good idea to agree to lunch with the man, but the opera was the perfect set up for me to get a feel for him. There wouldn’t be much room for conversation, and I could feel him out, watch him, and get a sense of the man without the distraction of contrived words designed to present one in their best light. I didn’t want my thoughts cluttered.
Marshall returned to the front counter, standing behind another customer. He had several candles in hand. The woman in front of him pulled a piece of plastic out of her tiny wrist wallet. She was purchasing one of the demonology books, I noticed, pleased our new items were selling.
“I have to leave to go pick out a dress with my mother in a moment,” I said to Toni. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” The store felt too busy for me to run errands, although I knew my two employees were more than capable of handling my absence.
“We’ll be fine. Go spend some of your money for once.” “Toni called after me, “And chose what you like. You’re too nice, don’t worry about us.”
Twenty minutes later, I was walking into a boutique with my mom. She was dressed in a smart pantsuit and holding a cute Chanel clutch. She’d begun paying more attention to her wardrobe choices, probably because of my father’s aspirations. The woman proceeded to waste no time in criticizing my clothes.
“We need to get you to my assistant; she has such a great eye,” my mother said, as a man walked up to greet us. Dutifully, I followed the salesman, trailing along behind my mom. The man noted our preferences in styles, colors, and fabrics before striding away.
“My clothes are fine, Mom, don’t worry about me.” I kept my voice low, and she gave me a little smile. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly.
We sat on cushioned benches while we waited, and I gazed at the displayed gowns and swatches of color. There was no time to custom order anything despite the allure of the beautiful materials. “That shade of blue would be gorgeous with your eyes,” my mother exclaimed, standing up. I watched as she stood in front of a length of silk. “Where is that man? We need to get you a dress with this fabric.”
“There’s no time, but yes that is pretty.” My eyes were one feature that I really liked about myself, the shade being an unusually vivid color.
The man came back, and the sample of material was forgotten as he assisted me with finding a dress for the opera. My mother, of course, fussed over me during the process, until her phone tore her away. I listened to her altered voice while Henry—the shop’s assistant, adjusted my neckline. Mom was slightly nervous with whoever she was speaking to, piquing my curiosity.
“This is lovely on you miss, you’re a vision,” Henry was saying. “We don’t need many adjustments.”
I murmured, “thank you,” and looked at my reflection in the mirror. The hem trailed a bit on the floor when I stepped down from the dais, but heels would solve that problem. Moving closer to the mirror, I pictured the necklace from Blackbeard’s around my neck. It would glow beautifully against the ebony silk I was wreathed in. It would be perfect.
My mom stepped alongside me, and I met her disapproving eyes. “This isn’t the best choice of color for a first date.”
Shoulders slumping, I said, “It's the opera, Mom, it will be fine.” She smoothed my hair back from my neckline with a delicate brush of her fingers, giving me an enigmatic tilt of her lips. I wasn’t going to back down; I loved this dress.
“What impression does it give?” she asked, softly.
I winced. “Mom, it's the opera. Lots of people will be in black; you know this.”
She tugged at the waist of the dress, as if she was going to be the one taking in the seams. “You should be standing out. You’re my beautiful daughter.”
My shoulders slumped. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m still getting this dress.” I punctuated my statement by kissing her cheek.
Several minutes later, we wrapped up our appointment and finalized all the details. My dress would be ready on time, but barely. We exited, my mother complaining about “poor service,” and were greeted by a long black car idling at the curb. She gave me a sly look as the chauffeur opened the rear door and Timothy climbed out.
My stomach fell and my hand dropped from my mom’s arm. What was she up to? What was my ex-fiancé up to? Timothy grinned at us; hand outstretched. He kissed the air beside my mother’s cheek before gently clasping my shoulder and repeating the action.
Head spinning, I entered the limousine behind the two of them. He poured some champagne, passing us half-filled glasses. “You look well, Samantha,” he said.
Lifting the alcohol, I cautiously answered, “Thank you, Timothy. You as well.” It felt a bit early to be indulging, but I swallowed anyway. “How have you been?”
“Excellent,” he replied, a smug smile crossing his face. “Everything is going as planned.”
He must be doing really well since he’d made partner in the law firm he’d been gunning for. He seemed very pleased with himself. My mother leaned back in her seat, appearing satisfied and content. “I’m happy for you, that’s great news. I didn’t expect to see you,” I remarked.
He set down his glass. “We’re dropping your mother off and then I need to speak with you.” There was nothing I cared to speak about with him. He’d dumped me, and I’d moved on. There was nothing I could do for him, and there was nothing I wanted to do with him. The cruel way he’d dismissed me after the real or imaginary home invasion would never be forgotten and I doubted he’d suddenly changed his mind about what’d happened.
“I have nothing to say to you, I’m sorry.” I tried to be polite while also wishing he’d disappear. My mom shifted in her seat. “Hear him out, Samantha,” she chided me.
“I’ve moved on, Mother,” I said, modulating my voice. “I’m sure Timothy has as well.” I arched a brow at him, recalling the photos I’d seen of him with a famous lingerie model on his arm.
His eyes shuttered. “Samantha, I may have been hasty in my decision for us to part. We can discuss that over lunch.”
Wracking my brain for the motivation behind his change of heart, I couldn’t find one. “I’ve already eaten but thank you.”
The vehicle pulled into my parents’ driveway and the door was opened. I gathered my purse and slid across the seat and ran into an arm. Timothy’s hand flattened against my belly and my mother’s soft smile filled my gaze before my escape route was slammed shut. “We’ll go to the bistro and then I will return you to your little shop.” Nausea suddenly filled my belly at his contact.
I sat back, my blood pressure rising. “Just lunch and that’s it. I’m not interested in starting over with you.” I couldn’t believe my mom was doing this to me—but then again, her, my father, and Timothy had thought I was lying about the mysterious man that trapped me in my sleep in a cottage. Not a single soul had trusted that what I’d said occurred, happened. I may have been crazy not to give my ex another chance but if that was a part of losing your mind, I was all in. Our relationship had been arranged from the beginning.
What I wanted was love, organic love, not a coupling contrived or spawned from a sense of duty. I wanted someone who would make my heart sing and that was becoming increasingly elusive by the looks of things.
Timothy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not that uncommon in this day and age to have a bout of mental illness. Perhaps you’d been stressed over our changing lives? It isn’t unheard of. You’ve been through therapy, and you are thriving now. Your father will most certainly secure his political aspirations; he’s on the right track to make a bid for the White House in the future. I need you by my side.”
My lips separated over his confession. He wasn’t interested in me; he was interested in the Fern family name and my parents were fully supportive of this parasite. I schooled my features as he continued.
“With the wave of crime hitting our city, it is imperative that I keep you safe. You have heard about the many deaths, have you not? There is a serial killer on the loose, Samantha.”
I hadn’t heard that. “Do you think that waiter was murdered by a serial killer?”
He brushed my question off. “No, the killer only targets women. It is quite gruesome, being dumped in alleyways and dumpsters.”
“Thankfully, I don’t frequent those areas,” I said, pointedly. “I’m not interested, Timothy. Besides, I have a date for the opera.”
“So, I’ve heard.” The look on my ex’s face appeared almost envious before he carefully tucked the errant emotion away. “Your date is based out of California; it will never work out between you.”
The comment was aimed more at his own comfort than any type of warning for me. “I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t been to the symphony hall in ages,” I said. And I was. Matthew was highly attractive, and I loved the glamor and glitz of the opera. There was no way of knowing if he’d request a second date, but I would make the most out of the potentially singular event with the man.
“Be careful with him,” Timothy cautioned.
I met his gaze. “Why do you say that?”
“I hear things,” he said.
“What things?” My shoulders slumped as defeat began to wash over me. I tried to dismiss it; he was likely trying to ruin my excitement. Or, perhaps, my parents asked him to plant seeds of doubt. They really like Timothy a lot.
“Some of the company he keeps is unconventional and his temper precedes him. Of course, I can’t verify this. Just be careful. I care about you deeply Samantha, as do your parents.”
A laugh escaped me. “Come on Timothy, you’re better than to latch onto a piece of gossip.” I was already unsettled, being in his presence and his vague warning deepened the feeling.
The sensation remained during my unexpected lunch date with my ex, while he did his best to make himself seem like an overly eligible bachelor. He carefully placed derogatory statements about Matthew’s business deals into our conversation while comparing the man’s work with his own rising career. Despite the glaring differences between practicing law and purchasing properties, Timothy had a way with words. I hated to admit it, but it did give me second thoughts about the upcoming opera date. Nevertheless, I’d still attend the event.