Chapter Fourteen
Nick
I check my watch for the umpteenth time, waiting for Bethany’s train to pull into the quaint Cold Spring depot. It’s not like I’m going to miss it; there’s only two trains a day at this small station. I’m just eagerly anticipating the arrival of my girlfriend.
After the week I’ve had dealing with the restaurant remodel, Bethany’s visit is going to be just the distraction I need. I’ve got several fun outings planned, plus it will be fun to cook for her and hang out at my condo. I remind myself there’s no guilt over letting myself focus on my girlfriend and forgetting about the restaurant for a couple days. That’s easier said than done, but I’m going to try.
Right on time, the train chugs into the station. The brakes screech as the train rolls to a slow stop. Exhaust spews from underneath the engine, creating a burst of fog, but it rapidly drifts away. Passengers begin to spill out of the train as I breathlessly wait for my gorgeous brunette to appear.
Two businessmen carrying leather messenger bags emerge, striding quickly out of sight.
A mother with two young kids appears. The kids bound down the steps like two eager puppies. When the brother smacks his sister, the girl wails—not using her indoor voice—and the woman stops to discipline the pair. The group blocks the flow of passengers for at least a full minute.
Three laughing teenage girls chatter together as they descend. Their matching red and green plaid skirts with white knee-high socks look like school uniforms. Maybe they’re attending a boarding school in the area.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
My foot taps nervously against the concrete platform as I wait. Passenger after passenger emerges, but there’s no sign of my girlfriend. Where’s Bethany?
A harried man carrying a duffle bag steps off and shouts to a lady further down the platform. She runs to him, pulling him into a passionate embrace. They kiss for several seconds as if they haven’t seen each other for a very long time.
An elderly couple departs the train. Minutes pass while the man carefully assists the woman as they gradually descend the stairs one by one to the platform. The conductor appears with a walker, the man grabs it, positions it for the woman and they slowly walk away.
Did Bethany miss the train?
Two curly-haired boys—probably around age nine—peek their heads out of the door. My heart soars when I see that Bethany is standing right behind them, juggling two suitcases and an overnight bag. The boys leap from the top stairs onto the platform and start to run away.
“Hey! Don’t forget your suitcases,” Bethany yells at the top of her lungs.
The boys skid to a stop, turn around and almost plow into the elderly couple.
“Sorry!” they say in unison as they dodge the couple and dash back to where Bethany’s standing. Each kid grabs a suitcase. “Thanks for carrying these, lady,” they shout, then run back down the platform, dodging the elderly couple a second time.
She looks around, spots me on the platform and waves. Seconds later, she launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and clunking me in the leg with her bag. We almost topple over, but somehow, I manage to keep us upright. Our lips meet in a wet, sloppy kiss that lacks any finesse. Ignoring everyone and everything around us, we lock lips for several heart-stopping seconds.
Needing to come up for air, I gently disengage from the nuclear kiss. Staring into Bethany’s beautiful brown eyes, I say, “Hello to you, too.”
She grins. “I missed you so much.” Still clutching her overnight bag, she grabs my elbow, and we walk to my car. I can’t wait for our reunion to officially get started back at my condo.
***
Bethany and I skid to a stop when we get to the top step of the exterior staircase leading to my condo. A woman is sitting on a stack of suitcases. It looks like she has packed enough stuff to stay for a month.
“Mom?”
“Nicholas!”
She leaps to her feet and yanks me into one of her patented bear hugs, the kind that forces the breath right out of your body.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I wheeze a few seconds later, still trying to catch my breath.
“Surprise!” she teases, then notices Bethany standing off to the side, watching our mother son reunion with a hesitant yet amused expression. “And who is this lovely lady?”
I hold out my hand and draw Bethany into the conversation. “This is my girlfriend, Bethany Hunt.”
“Your girlfriend?” my mom questions, her brows draw together, obviously disappointed that she didn’t know how serious this relationship has become. When I mentioned Bethany to her a few weeks ago, I certainly didn’t call her my girlfriend.
Wrapping my arm around Bethany’s shoulders, I say, “Our relationship is a work in progress.” I glance down at Bethany and add with a flirty wink, “A good one.” My girlfriend quirks an eyebrow, tilting her head towards my mom. I remember my manners. “Bethany, this is my mom, Francine DeLuca.”
“Nice to meet you,” Bethany murmurs while she shakes Mom’s hand. The women stare at each other as if sizing each other up.
Mom is wearing a dress and high heels. She believes in sporting the latest fashion, even while traveling. On the other hand, Bethany’s relaxed outfit of T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes looks comfortable and practical. By the embarrassed look on Bethany’s face, I get the feeling that she thinks her outfit doesn’t measure up. There’s nothing further from the truth. I tug my girlfriend closer and give her an encouraging squeeze, then mouth, “you look beautiful.”
Mom clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bethany, but I wish I knew you were visiting before I decided to drop by.” She bites her lower lip and glances at her pile of luggage.
You bring five suitcases when you’re dropping by?
“How long do you plan on staying?” I blurt.
“Well, it’s hardly worth the long trip unless I stay for a month.” She expels a long-suffering sigh.
By long trip she means flying from Los Angeles to New York. From the put-out expression on her face, you’d think she traveled here by stagecoach. My one-bedroom condo suddenly feels far too small. Just storing Mom’s suitcases is going to be a problem.
Bethany turns to me and as if reading my mind, and says, “I’ll stay in that Bed & Breakfast we passed on the way here.” A protest springs to my lips, but my mom interrupts.
“I’d happily sleep on the couch, but you know how finicky my back is.” The look in her eyes tell me that this isn’t an apology. My mom is a traditionalist. Bethany and I sharing a bed is simply out of the question. This is starting to feel like the movie Meet the Parents, but Bethany is the Ben Stiller character relegated to the basement. Or, in this case, to a cozy B & B.
“It’s settled. I’ll stay at the B & B,” Bethany says in a firm tone that she probably uses with her kindergarteners. She half smiles, trying to hide her disappointment.
I don’t argue. This battle is not worth fighting, and I’d lose anyway. “Come on inside and I’ll fix some food and get Bethany a reservation,” I say in a resigned tone. Thankfully, there’s no festivals this weekend because every lodging place would be booked.