Chapter 9 #2
“Goodbye.” Ann waved at Mrs. O’Donnell, knowing her son was in good hands.
They stepped into the stairwell and closed the door, and suddenly they were alone. Granted, they were essentially alone on the way here, but there was Junior to attend to. He was an excellent distraction from inconvenient feelings. But now they were truly alone with no one watching.
Bill stepped close. She was inexorably drawn to him, tilting her head up, lips parted.
He leaned in, his lips so close to her own.
His fingers traced fire down her cheek as he leaned even closer.
She didn’t stop him, despite her best intentions.
This was exactly what she wanted to avoid.
But for some reason, she couldn’t form words at that moment.
Just as their lips were about to touch, a noise from below made them jerk apart. Mr. O’Donnell was coming up the stairs. She cleared her throat and brushed her skirts.
Bill shook himself and said, “After you.”
She started down the stairs, nodding to Mr. O’Donnell as they passed, and then hurried out the door to Bill’s car, ears aflame. She shouldn’t have let herself get caught up like that. It was too soon, and she wasn’t ready. What would Roger think if he was watching her now?
She climbed into the car, full of self-recrimination, as Bill cranked it to start.
They rode in silence all the way to the hotel, and she attempted to compose herself.
This was all a mistake. She should never have agreed to go out on this date with him.
She shouldn’t have let him fix her roof either.
As soon as she noticed how her heart fluttered in his presence, she should have run away as fast as she could.
The car shuddered to a halt, and he turned toward her, concern written in every feature.
“Ann, I—”
But some dam broke within her, and all the messy emotions she had been trying to hold at bay came pouring out.
“I shouldn’t, Bill. It feels wrong. I only lost Roger six months ago.
His baby is only three months old. I can’t give in.
” Much to her embarrassment, a tear traced down her cheek.
She could only imagine what he must think of her, losing control like this, but the words kept pouring out.
“I’m so lonely, especially since my mother passed. I miss her and Roger desperately, and sometimes I see so much of him in you. I have a soft spot for singing pilots, I suppose. But you should be with someone who cares for you, not someone who is haunted by ghosts of the past. Don’t you see?”
He took her hand gently in both of his. “Ann, I was going to offer you a lemon drop. Would you like one?”
What? A lemon drop? That was…the last thing she was expecting.
He pulled a small tin of hard candies out of his pocket and held it open for her.
She blinked and took a deep breath. A lemon drop.
She could almost laugh. She plucked one from the tin and popped it into her mouth, hoping the sharp taste would help bring her back to equilibrium, and it worked.
After sucking on it for a few moments, she was able to blink away the tears and breathe normally again.
“You said we were friends.” He held onto her hand and met her gaze, his usual merry expression replaced an earnest expression that she’d never seen before. “Can we go to lunch as friends?”
She stayed still for a long moment. If she had any sense, she would have asked to go home, but he’d gone to so much trouble to pick her up and arrange for Junior to stay with his family.
And his friend was in the hospital. He had as many reasons as she did to flee, but here he was.
Looking into his eyes, she couldn’t help but soften. “Yes, of course.”
He squeezed her hand and released it, exiting the car and hurrying around to help her out. Needing distraction from his proximity, she gazed up at the elegant hotel with a wraparound porch on the ground floor and yellow and white striped awnings above.
Bill followed her gaze. “This used to be the headquarters for the Vanderbilt Cup road race until a few years ago. Every year, all the swells would come out with their race cars and put on a show. I loved it when I was growing up. Did you know that Henry Ford worked as a mechanic for the race before he made it big?”
“I had no idea. Did you ever meet him?” She was grateful for a discussion topic that had nothing to do with her past or her feelings.
“He used to buy flowers from our shop. There was a girl in town he was sweet on. That’s my best claim to fame, you know. I sold flowers to Henry Ford. Or I suppose it used to be. Aurora Belmont living in my old bedroom might trump even Henry Ford.”
They walked inside, and a waiter seated them at a small table by the window. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Bill, so she gazed out and watched the people and cars go by on the Jericho Turnpike.
“Everything is excellent here,” said Bill, as if nothing had happened and they were simply two friends out for lunch on the town.
“I’m particularly partial to the salmon loaf, but I think you might like the chicken salad sandwich.
This time of year, they put slices of fresh strawberry in it, and it’s a delightfully unusual flavor. ”
They ordered tea, salmon loaf, and chicken salad, as he’d recommended. The food arrived quickly. As they ate and chatted about Junior, a safe topic for them both, she finally began to relax. Perhaps they could be friends after all, now that she’d made herself clear.