Wednesday, December 28 #2
Angelica wasn’t sure whether he expressed his yearning with disappointment or with chastisement. She sometimes found it hard to tell.
“The roses are beautiful,” she said. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting them.” But hadn’t she thought flowers were all that was missing? Nicky is clairvoyant.
“I have many surprises for you, sweetheart.”
As Angelica rolled her eyes, mockery overtook her spirit, “And you’re springing them on me, aren’t you?”
Nicholas didn’t catch her tone. “I am. But may I get back to you this evening?” he asked. “The accountant is in my office right now.”
“I’m sorry. Call me later.”
Saved by the accountant. Oh no, Garrett plans to come over, and Nicky is calling.
Could she hide under her covers? But what exactly happened under or on the covers last night?
It’s never a good sign when you fall asleep in the living room and wake up in your bed.
No man is that nice. Then again, didn’t she think Garrett was dependable, very nice, and safe?
* * *
Sitting in his county vehicle, Garrett stared at the black phone screen, baffled. He leaned back against the headrest, took a sip of his coffee, and activated his replay mode.
“What happened last night?” He would have preferred many things to happen, but not under those circumstances. Let’s hear it for Mr. Nice Guy. As they say, nice guys finish last! Yep, that’s him. Despite his height, he’s always at the end of the line.
If dancing in the rain propelled him to the top of the ladder, Angelica yanked it out from under him. Without a parachute, he’s free-falling.
“Are you staying at my house tonight?” Wasn’t he supposed to? Had she changed her mind? Who the hell knows?
Before hitting the ground, however, Angelica threw out a lifeline during his fall from grace, or was it a bungee cord? “Do you want to go out for dinner?” Is it a date?
She wrapped things up with her comedy routine. “Don’t forget the gold.”
Garrett shook his head and peered out the grimy windshield.
His mind was as clear as his vision. At first, Angelica sent out SOS signals.
Then her emotions were all over the place.
Was this a game? If so, which one? A cat-and-mouse chase or a slow, drawn-out game of chess?
Maybe it’s the only game in Arbortown—Solitaire, with him, the Joker, holding the deck.
Angelica was driving him crazy in more ways than one. Garrett groaned. He sucked with women.
* * *
Thanks to his advertising blitz, Nicholas’s always-busy showrooms saw a steady increase in foot traffic. They even sold two top-of-the-line sports cars today. Sales far exceeded his expectations.
After hiring new salespeople and adding extra hours, Nicholas was confident he’d break the regional sales record next year. A house in the three-million-dollar range didn’t seem out of reach. Dominick also came on board.
With that in mind, Ponte entered his condo with quick strides, tossed his suit jacket onto a dining room chair, and headed straight to his bar for a glass of wine.
Multi-tasking, he kept his never-idle hands busy, holding a glass of Pinot Noir and turning on his sound system.
“… I glance down the road …”
Nicholas settled back into his club chair.
He gazed through the endless windows of his world, his thoughts consumed by Angelica.
She’s thirty today, as stunning as she was when he first held her in his arms. She was seventeen—her innocence heightened her allure.
He never could have guessed where their date would lead or the role she’d come to play in his life.
A shiver ran down his spine. A chilled sip slid across his palate.
“… The place I last saw your face …”
He watched a jet plane glide across the clear, moonlit sky, as clear as his path to having Angelica with him again, for eternity this time. He had waited so long, and now the wait is almost over.
“… As you drove away in the morning mist …”
All these days later, her perfume still lingered in the air and on her chair. Why the hell did he buy that damn Tom Ford perfume? The saleswoman swore Angelica would love it. What about him? It’s bad enough that her sensuality drove him crazy; that scent sent him into heat.
“… I stood there stubborn and resolute …”
Nicholas dialed her number on his cell, his foot tapping as he listened to the ringtones on the other end.
One, two, three rings, and then her answering machine picked up.
Her voice turned him on. She sounded so sensual, even on the recording.
God, everything about her made him sweat and crave a drink and more.
He swallowed a generous mouthful of the red wine.
“You’ve reached Angelica Whitely. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message. I’d love to speak with you.”
She’s sorry she isn’t home? Nicholas is the disappointed one. After waiting all day to call her back, he was beyond frustrated.
“… Saying you would never be missed …”
Nicholas left a message professing his eternal love and ended with, “Please call me when you get in. I’ll be waiting up. I love you, darling.”
Was she out with Garrette or with Leah? He was glad she’d made friends there. How could he be jealous? He couldn’t. After what Angelica endured, she deserved some happiness.
“… But those were the words of a fool ...”
She would leave those women behind when she returned to Avalone. He’d ensure she went to the right places and met the right people. Most importantly, he’d make up for her loss.
“… I missed you the moment you left …”
Nicholas waited for her call with a bottle of wine.
His brow furrowed, and he clenched his fist around the glass flute when it didn’t come.
Where the hell is she? Who the hell is she with?
His grip tightened. Tighter. More rigid.
Too rigid. The glass shattered in his hand.
Blood! It sprayed across the windows, the spotless white floor, and his pristine shirt.
Why did there have to be blood? He hated blood. No, he despised it!
* * *
They sounded like two kids at the end of the school year as they tumbled through Angelica’s cabin door, giggling. She hung her jacket on the familiar hook, and they beelined for the couch. Like a couple, they plopped down side by side, their legs nearly touching.
Garrett noticed the twinkle in her eyes. Angelica was radiant. He considered the evening’s outcome as he rested his arm along the back of the couch.
“I can’t believe you thought you were supposed to leave the blue film on the front of the new dishwasher,” she muttered, snickering.
“It did match the coffee maker …” The corner of Garrett’s mouth lifted as he winked. “Now that you’ve had a few laughs at my expense, tell me something funny about yourself, Angelica.”
She absentmindedly ran her hand through her hair, ruffling it. “Okay, here goes. I’m not Angelica Whitely.”
“Should I laugh at that or arrest you? Are you a world-famous artist hiding incognito, or an art thief?”
Angelica’s eyes lit up as she tucked her leg under her. “Ha, don’t I wish. I wouldn’t be moonlighting as a barmaid if I were either of them.”
Garrett shook his head and flexed his fingers; his bruised arm was beginning to cramp. Would it feel better around her shoulder? Beyond comforting her, he didn’t think he had reached that point.
“My real name is Allegra Angelica Philomena Maricelli.”
“That’s quite a big name for a petite woman.”
“And an awful one. I realized my name was terrible in kindergarten. But I had a plan. I was going to be Snow White!” Her laughter echoed off the walls.
“Until I found out how common ‘White’ was,” Angelica chuckled. “At eighteen, I legally rebranded myself as Angelica Whitely. That solved that until I had to change all the documents in my wallet. I’m taking that name to the grave after that hassle.”
Garrett was amazed. Angelica is the funniest woman he’s ever met. She exudes spontaneity and has a bubbly, natural personality. Aside from the guy she turned down, it seemed impossible that no one else showed any interest in her. His loss is Garrett’s gain. Hopefully.
Angelica wiped her watery eyes with her fingertips. “You know, neither of us is going to get any sleep if we keep this up,” she said.
Delighted with the path this evening was taking, he didn’t plan to stop. Things were moving in a positive direction. He imagined doing a lot with this woman. None of it involved laughter. He’d settle for gasping.
“Do we need to go to sleep?”
“I don’t know about you, Garrett.”
“Doesn’t my track record speak for itself?”
“So far. But no Riesling for me, and no Coors for you, detective. Your barmaid is cutting you off for the night.” Angelica tossed him a salute and a wink.
Garrett felt a wave of optimism from her comment and actions. A breakthrough. “Does this mean you’ll invite me back for a beer, Miss?”
“I will, once you pay up your IOU, Sir.”
Whoa! They just found a game they both wanted to keep playing. “I’m raiding my safe tomorrow and bringing all my gold,” he said with zeal.
Angelica looked at him, and Garrett looked back at her. Neither of them spoke a word. Silence filled the room, hanging like a cloud, waiting for the sun to break through.
They gazed unblinkingly, searching into each other’s souls.
Passion ignited; passion emerged. It surfaced, reflected in their eager eyes.
Angelica’s big brown eyes sparkled, and Garrett’s blue eyes shone.
This was unorchestrated, unscripted. Seizing his—no, their— long-awaited moment, Garrett began to lean in to kiss Angelica when her landline phone rang.
Its urgent shrill pierced the room’s simmering electricity, ricocheted off the paneling, and cut the heated moment short.
He blinked, and Angelica jumped up, hobbling toward the offender on the desk. Cradling the handset to her chest like stolen goods, she disappeared down the hall and slammed the bedroom door behind her. The creaking hinges announced the end of the blissful scene.