Chapter 5
“Ican’t believe you talked me into this.” Olivia muttered into her phone, with one hand over her ear to block out the noisy chatter in the crowded bistro. She’d never been to the café on a Saturday before, so she was shocked at the crowd in her favorite quiet spot. “I don’t have time to waste on a lunch date. He probably won’t even show up. And if he does show up, he’ll probably be a loser. What am I doing here?”
Grace released a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve already been over this. You have to eat, Olivia, so you’re not wasting any time. And it’s not Chip’s fault you’re sitting there waiting on him. It’s your own fault for being so uptight you arrive twenty minutes early to every appointment.”
“That’s not uptight. That’s common courtesy.”
She jerked her hand away from her mouth before she could start gnawing on her fingernail again.
“What happened to my fun sister? The one who used to drag me out to go dancing on the weekends?”
A lump formed in Olivia’s chest and she squeezed her eyes closed. “You’re right. I’m not fun anymore, am I? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you except you’re under too much pressure from medical school. You need to relax a bit. Mix a tiny bit of enjoyment with all that studying and work, so you don’t go crazy.”
“Can’t. I’m already gone.” Olivia dropped her head down and bumped her forehead against the table. “My.” Thump. “Life.” Thump. “Is.” Thump. “Over.”
“Eh-hem,” said a male voice. “Are you Olivia?”
She sat straight in her chair like a spring-hinged lid, her cell phone slipping from her fingers, clattering to the floor. “Oh!” She lunged toward the phone at her feet, slamming her forehead on the corner of the table. “Ow!” She sat up again, her hand pressed to her throbbing brow.
“Here, let me get that for you.” The man quickly retrieved the phone and handed it to her.
She tried to focus on his face through the haze of pain. “Thank you. Yes, I’m Olivia.”
“You okay? Are you bleeding?” The blurry image of his face appeared much like his profile photo, minus a short growth of beard.
“Don’t think so.” She checked her fingers, relieved to find them free of blood. “I think the only serious damage is to my ego.”
She heard a tinny voice from the phone in her hand and lifted it to hear ear. “I’ll call you later, Grace.” She disconnected and looked up at the man who still stood beside the table, backbone stiff, eyeing her as if she might have a few screws loose. She didn’t blame him. She probed her tender brow, discovering a lump already forming. “I’m not normally quite so clumsy.”
His lips stretched in something almost resembling a smile and he sat down, his back straight like a board was strapped to his spine. “I hope your head will be alright.” He brushed his fingers gingerly across the rustic wooden table and picked up the plastic menu with the tips of his fingers as if it might be contaminated. “I’ve never been to this place before. Is the food good?”
“Yes, it’s awesome. I come here all the time.” Thrilled to have the subject change from her accidental injury, she sought to win him over on her choice of meeting places. “I always get the fish tacos with pineapple slaw.”
His nose wrinkled. “I’m a vegan. Perhaps we should go down the street to The Garden.”
“One of my best friends from work is a vegan, and we’ve eaten here together.” If she weren’t so rattled, she might’ve been more accommodating.
“Humph.”
With practiced discipline, Olivia maintained a passive expression. Though she knew it was a common and healthy practice, she could never be a vegetarian, much less a vegan. She loved salads, but she also enjoyed a hamburger or a steak when the mood struck. She tried to imagine bringing him to Sunday night dinner with her family while he turned up his nose at their food. Besides, The Garden, though trendy, was overpriced and under-flavored, in her opinion. She tapped on her menu. “Did you see the vegan options on the back?”
One brow tweaked with obvious disdain, but he went back to studying his choices of fare. She stole glances at him over the top of her menu. He wore his sandy blond hair short on the sides and longer on the top as was the fashion. Broad shoulders were draped in a beautiful suit—probably an expensive one, but Olivia didn’t have an eye for that sort of thing. He certainly looked the part of an investment banker, though she wondered aloud why he was dressed up on a Saturday.
“I came here straight from meeting with a client. Have no fear—I do own casual clothes.” He flashed a brilliant smile, identical to the one on his profile page.
The waitress arrived and Olivia requested her usual order. Then Chip grilled the waitress about their food preparation practices, wanting to know such details as whether the vegetables were stored in a separate refrigerator from the meat and whether the chef used a different cutting board and knife on the vegetables and fruit. The waitress did her best to convince him he wouldn’t be tainted with a molecule of meat protein. In the end, he decided to order a glass of tea, stating that he would grab something from Veggies to Go on his way home.
“Why didn’t you pick the place you wanted to eat?” Olivia squirmed with embarrassment as the waitress made her escape.
“Actually, I suggested a few places, but you were rather insistent.”
It was true, though she’d forgotten about it. She hated trying new places and knew she would be nervous enough meeting for lunch with a stranger. That’s why she made Grace offer three of her favorites and ask him to choose one.
“Sorry about that.” She didn’t mean it. She was glad to learn upfront about something that eliminated him as a candidate for a relationship. Her jittery stomach settled to normal—she didn’t need to impress this man, investment banker or not. She didn’t even care when his eyes focused on a spot a few inches above her left eye where she was certain a huge purple egg was growing on her forehead.
He gave a sharp nod, turning to accept a glass of tea from the waitress and questioning her about the knife that had sliced the lemon wedge before discarding it. He pulled a small tube of hand sanitizer from his pocket, squirting some out and rubbing it on his fingers. After wiping the rim of his glass with his napkin, he sipped his tea without alteration. Then he picked up a knife and squinted at it before placing it to the side. “This place isn’t very clean.”
“I think those are water spots,” Olivia defended.
He ignored her. “Your profile says you’re a registered nurse and you’re presently attending medical school. How long before you graduate with your medical degree?”
“Four years. Plus, a four-year residency.”
“Your profile said you wanted to start a family right away.”
“Don’t remember exactly what I wrote, but I do want to have children.”
“Assume you’ll want to stay home once the children are born.”
“You think the mother should stay home with the kids?”
He nodded with an of-course expression.
“Hmmm….” The waitress arrived with Olivia’s meal and she took a big bite of fish taco, chewing as she pretended to ponder. She swallowed and wiped her lips with her napkin. “I actually thought I’d let my husband stay home with the kids.”
When his jaw dropped, barely missing the table, she almost burst out laughing.
“I’m not going to be a house-husband.” He looked even more horrified than when he’d seen the spots on his knife.
“Oh.” She shrugged. “Then I guess we’re not compatible.”
He clamped his mouth shut, his jaw muscles flexing. “I wish you’d been more forthcoming when we chatted online. You seemed so charming and compliant.”
“If you wanted charming and compliant, you should have dated my sister.” She thought about Grace. Her sister loved her with abandon, though this wasn’t the first time she’d strong-armed her into some hair brained scheme. “On second thought, she’s not very compliant either.”
He pushed away from the table and stood, tossing his napkin on his chair. “This meeting is over.”
“Wait!” Olivia rose and grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. “Do you have a business card?”
“A business card? Why?” His brows drew together in suspicion.
She considered saying the truth, “I need it to win a bet with a guy in a Santa suit,” but decided to opt for another fact, even though it wasn’t the real answer to his question. “I have a friend with a lot of money to invest.”
He slipped two fingers into his inside coat pocket and withdrew a card, though he held it close. His head cocked to the side as if he could better see inside her brain. “You’re going to recommend me to your friend?”
One quick phone call to Collin would fulfill the promise. “Absolutely.” She snatched the card from his fingers, bouncing on her toes in a private victory dance. This lunch date had turned out great. She’d won her bet with Santa. And now she could eat her fish tacos in peace, without the judgmental stares of a condescending stranger making her wonder if she had cilantro stuck between her front teeth.
* * *
“How’s your dad?”Collin asked Blake while piling potato chips between the ham and cheese of his sandwich.
“Pretty good, actually. He’s going to have a stint placed, but the doc said he doesn’t need a bypass. And I think he might finally agree to lose a few pounds and give up the cigarettes.” Blake picked up the Santa jacket draped over the back of the couch and held it to his face. “Hey—it’s not as smelly as usual. You didn’t wash it, did you? Because they told us it would shrink if you washed it. It’s dry clean only.”
“No, I spread it out and sprayed it with some of that anti-stink fabric spray.”
“Thanks, man. And thanks again for filling in for me. Even though he’s okay, I think having me there made him less stubborn about following the doctor’s orders. Though you’d think just having a heart attack would be enough to scare your pants off.”
“About last night….” Collin took a bite and chewed, buying time while he considered how to explain his predicament. He hadn’t known Blake long enough to be certain he would play along without giving anything away to Olivia.
“I didn’t even ask how it went. I assume no one suspected you weren’t really me, right?” Blake folded the jacket, draping it over one arm before picking up the pants.
“No, quite the opposite, actually.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Blake continued to gather the rest of the Santa suit.
“Loved every minute of it…Not! Swimming in sweat. Kids screaming in my ear. Babies spitting up on my sleeve. One toddler even had an accident on my leg.”
Blake laughed so loud Collin almost missed hearing his phone vibrating on the table. He glanced at the screen and did a double-take. Olivia? Why would she be calling me? Did she figure out it was me in the Santa suit? No, that’s impossible. There must be some kind of emergency. His heart thumped on his ribs like a xylophone.
He held up a shaky finger to Blake as he answered the phone. “Olivia? Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Collin. Uhmm, yes. Everything’s fine. Calling you about someone I met.”
“You met someone?” Could she be referring to meeting the Real Santa who she thought was Blake?
“Met an investment banker. I kind of I promised him I’d tell you about him. And now, I’ve done it. Okay. Bye.”
“Wait!” Understanding dawned, and Collin sought to gain information about her lunch date. “How did you meet this guy? You haven’t even told me his name or given me his contact information.”
“His name? His name is Chip Masterson. And I’ve got his card right here.”
Of course—she got his card to win the bet. Now she would expect him to buy her a hot chocolate. Only it would be Blake buying it for her.
“Is he any good? Does he have a website with stats? Does he favor high-risk or traditional slow growth?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. I only spent about five minutes with the guy. You’ve probably already got some hotshot handling all your money, anyway.”
Collin rubbed the back of his head, glancing at Blake as he disappeared into the back with his Santa suit. “Actually, I don’t have any funds to invest at the moment.”
“Yeah, right.”
He could tell she didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t ready to defend himself quite yet. In his mind, he had a long way to go to prove he could survive without his family money. His father, though furious at his actions of late, had left the door wide open for him to return when he “came to his senses.” Somehow, having that safety net made him feel unworthy of claiming independence. His thoughts drifted to Martha, the only person in his life who always had an encouraging word.
“Hey, Olivia. I wanted to ask you about a lady who lives at Sheltering Arms—she went into the free clinic recently. Were you were working there any time this week?” His inquiries had been fruitless so far. Even the director of Sheltering Arms didn’t know where she’d been taken, but she’d gathered up Martha’s paltry possessions and locked them in the office for safekeeping. Her ever-present purse wasn’t among them, so she must’ve taken it with her.
“Why do you ask?”
Collin could almost picture the crease between Olivia’s eyebrows. “She’s…a friend. I heard she was sick, and I wanted to check on her.”
“You have a friend at the shelter?”
The incredulity in her voice piqued his ire. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“I’m sorry, Collin.” He steeled himself against the contrition in her voice. “I want to help. I’ll be glad to check when I go in next week. I’ll tell you anything I can, as long as it doesn’t violate HIPAA. What’s her name?”
Desperation forced him to swallow his pride, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Martha Avalon.”
“Martha? I know Martha. She comes into the clinic all the time, but always with other patients. She acts like she’s a mother to every person who lives at the shelter.”
“That sounds like her.” Collin rather resented her self-appointed nurturing role, feeling too many people took advantage of her generous nature.
“Did something happen to her?”
“No idea. She went to the clinic sometime last weekend. Now, either no one knows or no one will tell me where she is.”
“Well, I’ll find out what I can. I hope she’s okay. She’s such a sweet lady.”
“I agree.” Embarrassed by catch in his voice, he attempted to lighten the conversation. “About this Chip Masterson. Is he a candidate to be Mister Olivia Marshall?”
She let out a hearty laugh. “No, but I wish I’d asked him that. So Neanderthal. I would’ve loved seeing his face if I’d suggested it.”
At least her date had been a flub—that was worth celebrating. And the fact he’d enticed her to laugh while they were enjoying a rather pleasant conversation with only a few disagreements felt like a dream. Collin pinched his arm, just to be sure.
“And how’re your folks doing? And your sisters and brother and niece and nephew?”
“They’re great. You should come to Sunday night dinner sometime and see everyone.”
Collin’s breath rushed out in a whoosh. Had she just invited him to eat with her family? “Do you mean that?” He waited through an awkward silence.
“Sure.” The word sounded like she was talking with a string wrapped around her neck. “I mean, my folks would probably love to see you again. Mom still talks about you.”
He was glad she couldn’t see his face because it felt as hot as a bed of coals. Her invitation hadn’t been genuine—she was only being polite. By omission, she as much as said she didn’t really want him there. “Maybe I’ll try to come sometime next semester, when I’m not so swamped with law school,” he said, providing her an easy out.
He heard or imagined a sigh of relief.
“Speaking of law school, I met one of your classmates, Blake Livingston.”
Collin had to handle this conversation carefully. So far, he hadn’t actually lied about his identity. He’d simply failed to correct inaccurate assumptions. “Really? Where did you meet Blake?”
“I met him at Bergman last night. He was playing Santa Claus for the kids. We talked a little bit, but I didn’t ask him if he knew you.”
“Ah, so is Blake a candidate to be Mr. Olivia Marshall?”
She hesitated for an eternity, and Collin regretted his joke.
“I don’t believe I need to answer that question. It’s none of your business.”
“Does that mean you’re actually attracted to a guy in a Santa costume? If I’d known that, I would’ve gained weight and worn a dorky red suit a long time ago.”
“I didn’t say that, but the real Blake isn’t fat and dorky.”
“You don’t know that for sure. You didn’t see him outside his costume.”
A poison-filled pause followed, during which Collin realized he’d revealed more than he meant to.
“How do you know I didn’t see him outside his costume?”
If he could see her, those deep brown eyes would be jet-black slits, slicing him open for inspection. How could he explain without blowing his cover? He had to tell the truth—at least part of it.
“It so happens Blake is my roommate, so I know all about his job and the rules for Real Santa. I know he can’t take off any part of his suit in public.”
“Blake is your roommate?” Shock made her voice squeaky. “So he already told you he met me, and you pretended not to know?”
“Actually, he didn’t mention meeting you. Maybe you didn’t make much of an impression,” he jabbed.
“You could be wrong about that. We have a date tonight.”
Collin’s heart rate doubled. Did she really consider fulfilling their bet equivalent to a date? He pictured Olivia seated in a booth beside Blake, still clad in full Santa regalia, laughing at something he said while she sipped her hot chocolate. Blake leaned to whisper in her ear, placing a leather-clad hand over her dainty fingers. A rosy hue flooded Olivia’s cheeks and her soft lips parted, as if in invitation. Blake moved closer, his fluffy white beard and mustache shielding their joined lips from sight.
“Don’t do it!” Collin shouted.
“What do you mean?” Her voice rose in confusion. “Why shouldn’t I go on a date with Blake? Is there something wrong with him?”
He choked, coughing. “Trust me—it’s not a good idea.”
Olivia groaned. “Another Neanderthal trying to control my life. I’m perfectly capable of determining whether I should date your roommate, without any help from you. But the truth is I was kidding. It’s not really a date.”
“It’s not?”
“It’s a bet. Though I’m tempted to make it something more, to prove I can make my own decisions.”
“Any man who actually thought he could influence your decisions would be an idiot. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Then why did you say I shouldn’t date Blake?”
“Because….” He scrambled for an answer and chose the truth, sharing a tidbit from a conversation the previous week. “Blake had a bad breakup not too long ago—his girlfriend of two years just dumped him.”
“What are you saying? You think I might hurt him?”
“No, I just think Blake might be a little…” He searched for the right word. “I think he’s vulnerable right now. You know, he might read too much into things.”
Collin felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find his roommate standing behind him, arms crossed, smoke pouring from his ears on either side of a dark red face.
“Uhmm, Olivia, I need to let you go.”
This isn’t going to be fun.
* * *
As Olivia hungup the phone, she blew out a long, slow breath though puffed-out cheeks. Mixed emotions muddled her head. She’d been kind of glad for an excuse to call Collin, if only because she missed having a worthy opponent for verbal sparring. And she had to admit talking to him was fun. She felt as if the old, fun Olivia was back. In many ways, Collin was her cocaine, providing a temporary euphoria and increased energy, though she knew a sustained diet of him would destroy her well-planned life.
He’d thrown her for a loop when he asked about Martha, especially since she didn’t even know the two had an ongoing friendship. The last time Olivia ran into Martha at the clinic, she’d been as spunky and vivacious as ever. The woman was stoic and rarely came in for her own medical issues. Even when she broke her foot, she claimed she didn’t need treatment because nothing hurt. Yet she was a regular at the free clinic, usually bringing a new patient, someone who’d recently moved into the shelter where she stayed. Though her clothes were worn, she was always neat and clean, quoting, “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” She fussed at the clothing choices of her younger friends. Couldn’t abide pants with tears or holes, even if it was stylish.
Olivia hoped Martha didn’t have any serious medical issues. She had to remember to report back to Collin if she learned anything on Wednesday. Not that she was likely to forget about him—every encounter left a lasting impression, no matter how brief.
Thank goodness Collin hadn’t accepted her accidental invitation to Sunday night dinner. She’d almost panicked when the words came out of her mouth. She could totally predict what would’ve happened. He would’ve been his usual charming self, and her sisters would pressure her to date him, while her father fumed silently in the background.
Why had Olivia invited Collin to dinner? It certainly had nothing to do with wanting to gaze into his jade green eyes, sparking with challenge. And it couldn’t be because their squabbling made her feel more alive, more like her old self. Could it?
At least she’d managed to dodge the bullet, though she suspected she’d hurt his feelings. With each encounter, she seemed to be more adept at doing exactly that, and she wondered that she’d once considered him emotionless. Her initial assessment couldn’t have been more erroneous. When she’d touched on a sensitive subject at the library, his expression announced his pain as well as a full-page Technicolor ad. She tried to push the image of his downcast eyes from her mind. He’d looked so wounded she felt as if she’d kicked a puppy. Guilt. Self-condemnation. Remorse. That was how she had felt, all the way up until he kissed her. After that, her thoughts were a jumble of confusion punctuated with a rapidly thumping heart.
She thought the stress of medical school would erase all thoughts of Collin from her mind. But so far, that hadn’t happened. She needed to avoid him at all costs, especially now. Though purely physical in nature, her attraction to Collin was strong. If she lost her careful control, she might end up dating him. Then it wouldn’t take much to become totally infatuated. But she could never marry him. That relationship would end in disaster, for certain. They were simply too different. Their beliefs, their backgrounds, their values, their attitudes toward money—she and Collin were opposite in almost every respect. Granted, he was smart and funny and attractive, but those attributes weren’t the quintessential traits of an ideal husband.
In fact, Grace’s meddling might have been a favor after all. Her sister had scouted out possible matches based on more important factors, such as common goals. Though Chip had been a dud, the other two men possessed real potential. Perhaps Olivia shouldn’t be quite so angry with her sister.
On the other hand, Blake Livingston, despite his creepy Santa suit, had been entertaining to converse with, and his Facebook photo revealed a handsome face, though she hadn’t seen it in person. She was curious enough to explore his background and determine if they had anything in common. Whatever the case, she was looking forward to flashing that business card in front of his sparkling blue eyes, the one part of him that hadn’t been covered by his costume. Hopefully, he’d be willing to hang around and pay off his bet after work tonight. Or, even better, he might go home and ditch the mask and padded suit, since he would have a few hours before she finished her shift.
She settled in for a few hours of studying before her shift at Bergman, but thoughts of Martha invaded her mind and ruined any chance of concentrating on the lymphatic system.
* * *
“I can explain.”Collin held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, yeah? Are you saying you weren’t on the phone sharing my personal life?”
“Kind of, but not exactly. You see, I was really talking about me, because she thinks I’m you.”
“This Olivia, the person on the phone, thinks you’re me?”
“No, she thinks the Real Santa was you.”
“If she thinks you’re Blake, why were you talking about me in third person? Why didn’t you say, ‘I had a bad breakup and I might be vulnerable?’”
“Because she wasn’t calling Blake-me, she was calling Collin-me.”
His angry mask contorted into confusion. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“You need to understand. You’ve got to play along when you go to work tonight. I need your help.”
Blake tilted his head, one eyebrow arching. “First you blurt out my secrets, and now you need my help?”
“Coffee.” Collin rose to his feet and pushed past Blake to the counter. He could feel Blake’s stare boring into his back. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured a cup of coffee from the carafe.
“Coffee?”
“I need coffee.”
“You already had lunch.”
Holding the steaming mug to his nose, he breathed heaven deep into his sinuses. “But I haven’t had my coffee today. I’m hoping I can explain everything better with a little caffeine in my system.”
“I hope so, too. Because so far, you stink at it.”
He took a sip, the black-gold swirling in his mouth and sliding down his throat, warming on the way. After savoring the aroma once again, he set the cup down and faced Blake with fresh determination, despite his roommate’s impatient expression.
“Here’s what happened. Olivia is a friend of mine, and she came over with Cassie when I finished my Santa shift. But Cassie called me Blake because she saw your ID. I went along with it to protect your job. Even though, I’ve gotta say, no amount of money would ever make me do that again. I don’t know how you stand it. But anyway, we talked for a while—”
“You and Cassie?”
“No, Olivia and I talked. Cassie left to take a smoke break. But she doesn’t smoke.”
“Olivia doesn’t smoke?”
“No, Cassie doesn’t smoke. Actually, Olivia doesn’t smoke either.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Forget the smoking. The point is, I advised Olivia against Internet dating, and we made a bet. So even though her date was a flub today, I lost the bet because he really was an investment banker. That means tonight, you need to be you, but act like me.”
Blake shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of his ears. “And what does all this have to do with you telling my intimate secrets to Olivia?”
“Since you lost the bet, she expects you to buy her hot chocolate tonight. I told her about Reagan to give you an excuse so you don’t have to take her out. All you need to do is tease and give her a hard time about everything, so she won’t notice the difference between us.”
Blake blinked, his jaw dropping.
“Oh, and I forgot...” Collin lowered his voice and spoke with an air-filled tone. “You need to talk like this.”
Still, a blank stare.
Desperate to gain his cooperation, Collin pulled out his phone and thumbed through his images. “I have a picture of her. You’ll need to pretend you’ve already met.”
“Wow!” Blake grabbed the phone and stared, his slack mouth pulling up into a broad grin. “That’s Olivia? She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Yes, she is.” Collin snatched the phone back, not particularly happy with Blake’s sudden enthusiasm.
“Maybe it isn’t so bad that you told her about Reagan. I’m betting she’ll be pretty sympathetic when I tell her how depressed I’ve been since all that happened.” He chuckled. “I might even shed a tear or two. I knew all that time I spent in community theater would come in handy someday.”
Someone strapped an iron band around Collin’s chest and ratcheted it tight. He closed his eyes, listening to his own words with a growing dread. “No need for that. I’ll be substituting for you as Real Santa again tonight.”
“Dude! I can’t give up another night. Need the money to pay rent.”
“I’ll let you have the money.”
Blake clapped him on the shoulder. “I was only kidding, you know. I wouldn’t really go after your girl.”
“She’s not my girl. We’re only friends. If that.”
“Friends, huh?” Blake ambled to the refrigerator and grabbed a half gallon of milk, opening it up to gulp from the carton.
“I’m so buying my own milk from now on.”
Blake closed the carton, wiping his face on his sleeve, and turned wide innocent eyes his direction. “What?”
“Forget it.”
“I can tell you’re in love with her.”
“I’m not in love with her. Not even capable of that.”
“Fine. Let’s say you’re crazy about her, and I’d never step on your toes, no matter how hot she is.”
“Then you’ll help me?”
He put the milk back in the fridge and shut the door, turned and crossed his arms.
“What do I have to do?”