Chapter Sixteen
“Do you have them in dark gray too?”
I looked up from my iPad and said, “Of course. Navy and black like you’re buying. Dark gray, a lighter gray, and taupe. A lighter taupe.”
Cam Hawkins, another longtime customer of mine, said, “I’ll take them all. When they come in I will have them fitted and shipped to my condo in Aspen for the winter.”
I nodded, making notes on my iPad. Without the tablet, I was a goner. The tiny computer kept all my client records and orders. “You should add a few cashmere sweaters for the evenings. Maybe with jeans.”
Cam nodded and said, “You’re right. If I take an evening meeting, it makes me more approachable.”
“Bingo!” I agreed, knowing Cam and his business well. “Let me pull a few darker-wash jeans and a sweater.”
Cam was already flipping through a table of socks and giving me a thumbs-up.
As I went to look for a particular pair of jeans, I thought why not someone like Cam for me? Wealthy, smart, owned a venture capital fund, and spent three months a year in Aspen, skiing and meeting with techies. I knew for a fact that he found a ton of business opportunities on these trips—while having an equal amount of fun—because I outfitted him every year. He came in every August before heading to Europe for a major shopping haul, having everything fitted when he returned from Italy or Spain or wherever he went, and then shipped to Aspen in time for his December arrival.
Cam wasn’t complicated. Sure, he had a significant other, but I worked with hundreds of Cams. Instead I’d gone and admitted to liking the world’s least eligible bachelor. A man who’d had commitment issues long before I sent him further into a tailspin.
My phone dinged as I grabbed a pair of Paige jeans, and I took a quick peek. Speaking of the devil, Mackenzie Miller was texting me.
Still on for dinner later? How is the club? Perfect night to eat on the roof…
Like I said, Mack was in a tailspin. Usually commanding and domineering in his requests, he was asking me if we were still on. There was an air of hesitancy in all of his interactions since we returned from Westchester a few days ago. He couched his actions in wanting to go about things the right way, but I chalked it up to a protective way.
I answered him quickly and went back to Cam.
Yes. 8? I’m busy at work today. I can meet you there.
No matter what, I had to keep my work strong. It was the only steady facet of my life.
He sent a thumbs-up emoji and See you then. He didn’t mention the newly found letters that were still in my possession, or much of what happened.
“Here you go,” I told Cam, handing him the jeans. “These will be perfect.” I’d found a pale blue cashmere sweater too and told him, “Try this for size. I can get any color, really.”
“Before I forget, I need a pair of lug-sole shoes to walk around the lodge in.” He ran a hand through his brown hair, a large Rolex catching the light.
It only made me think of Mack and his beautiful face and damaged heart. Shaking the thought away, I told Cam I had just the pair and went off to grab them.
He loved them, took the brown ones and had me order black with the rest of the items I was ordering.
“I’ll be back from Italy mid-September, and then we’ll get it all set to ship.”
“Of course. Have fun.”
“Any summer travels for you?
Cam had asked only to be polite, but it made me think. I hadn’t been on a vacation in a while. Maybe I should take a breather… “Not yet, but I shall see,” I told him.
“I hope you do. Thanks for everything, Frankie,” he said and was off.
The rest of the day was a flurry of wedding clients, and it was close to seven when I had a moment to fix my makeup and go to the bathroom.
On my way out, I cruised through the cosmetics section, stopping at the Silky counter. We didn’t carry as big of a selection as the Silky stores, but they had a presence—the latest glittery body lotion and lip gloss collections next to a few bottles of perfume. There was a new scent called Sun. I picked it up and smelled. It was all daisy and marigolds, mixed with a dewy rain scent. I loved it and put a spritz on, thinking I should buy a bottle before making my way outside.
It was beautiful out, the humidity strangely low for August, and I decided to walk a few blocks before ordering a rideshare. Allowing the fresh air to wash over me, I headed west, the sun setting in front of me.
What am I doing? I asked myself. I couldn’t shake the thought as I made my way to Eighth and pulled up the app for the car.
I hadn’t resolved a thing by the time I arrived at Mack’s club and strode into the lobby where he waited for me, in dark jeans like I’d sold Cam and a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. If luscious and unachievable were a scent, it would be called Mack.
“Hi,” he whispered, pulling me in for a hug.
“Hey,” I found myself responding. “You okay?” I couldn’t help myself; I was strangely attracted to men who would destroy me. That was the only answer I could come up with.
“I’m good now,” he said for only me, his hand coming to my lower back as he guided me toward the elevators.
How could something feel incredibly right and wrong at the same time?
“Mr. Miller, right this way,” someone said as soon as we exited the elevator.
We were escorted to a table toward the back of the roof, a view of the pool and sunset looming in front of us.
“Corey called and set everything up,” Mack said as we sat. “Wish I could take credit, but I had a sales meeting I couldn’t ditch.”
I nodded as though we hadn’t shared this extremely emotional and physical moment the weekend prior.
Mack spoke first. “Let’s get a drink.”
“Let’s. I could use one.” Truer words had never been spoken.
Mack signaled for the server and ordered a mule for himself after asking me what I wanted.
“White, something crisp,” I requested.
“Thank you for coming. I know it’s been awkward, but texting and calling felt like the wrong way to discuss what is happening.”
“Happening?” I crossed my legs under the table, all sorts of tension crackling between us.
“I guess it’s solely about me. My reaction to the new letters, my feelings for you, all of this. Fuck, Frances, you turn me into a bumbling idiot.”
He leaned forward, staring me down with dark eyes swirling with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Need, confusion, and lust were what I felt the strongest.
He went on. “I don’t know what to say, or where to start… This doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“How about, ‘How was your day?’”
I suggested the question as our drinks arrived, so with his copper mug in hand, he said, “How was your day?”
“It was good…mostly the norm…my customers needing me, and I like that. It’s predictable, and they appreciate me in a way I crave, I guess. At the end of the day, I love it because it’s a feel-good transaction.”
“None of your customers give you a hard time?”
I felt my head shaking and took a sip of my wine. “No. Maybe in the beginning, but not now. I’m respected and know what they need, and I only work with a certain level of customer. Someone like yourself, who has money to burn and needs to look on top of his game, all the time.”
“Are you soliciting my business?” He raised an eyebrow. “Was that your intention?”
The twinkle in his left eye let me know he was joking, but I played along. “No, my book is full and I don’t have time for your demands.”
He brought a hand to his heart. “That wounds me.”
Together, we laughed and the mood reset to something between easy and perfect. Conversation flowed as we shared a cheeseburger and fries. Mack dipped a fry in ketchup and fed it to me. The way he stared as I ate it gave me chills.
“Wait!” I was halfway through the fry when I spoke.
Mack raised an eyebrow, and I quickly finished chewing.
“Can you eat a cheeseburger? I feel bad—I suggested it and now you ate it…”
He reached across the table and took my hand. “I don’t keep kosher. Milly did when she grew up and also after marrying my grandpa. But when they got older, she didn’t follow it when she was out of the house. She would take me for cheeseburgers at the local diner, ‘because if you’re going to eat out, it better be for something good’ she’d say.”
“I love the way you smile when you talk about Milly. It’s clear she was such a bright spot in your life.”
I felt his fingers tighten on mine. “She was the only bright spot for a long time, and now I’ve let her down.”
Taking another sip of my wine, I dared to ask, “Do you want to see the second letter?”
“Did you read it?”
I nodded.
“Did she mention my sad state of affairs again?”
Thankfully, I was able to say, “No.”
With our hands still tangled on the table, I felt his foot slide my way and touch my ankle. They were intimate gestures among two people, both with cracks in their past and fears twisted with misconceptions when it came to love. But it was a start. A beginning to what might be a new middle for us both.
“How about you tell me? Give me the condensed version.”
He took his hand away for a moment to take a chug of his drink, quickly returning it to my already painfully lonesome fingers.
“Well, it started with her new usual. ‘My Dearest James.’ She wrote the same explanation of him not being her Jimmy anymore, and then went on to elaborate on how him not being hers was her biggest regret.” I stopped and took a long breath, dragging in air and courage before I said the next part. “The letter appears to be written on the day she was diagnosed. She mentioned just leaving the doctor and not knowing what to do other than write to her Jimmy, like she did during the year they were falling in love. Writing letters had become her way of coping, she explained. She had a separate line for not having the heart to tell her Dear Mackenzie.” I whispered the last part.
He nodded. “I never knew about the cancer until after she died.” My heart ached for the many burdens Mack toted around, but I didn’t have time to tell him because he said, “Go on.”
“She detailed how you had done so well in school and how you were making strides in the industry and becoming the man she always knew you would be. She went on to say that you would make a dedicated husband and father one day like she was sure my Paps was.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. I wasn’t sure what he needed from me—comforting, more information, or for me to plain shut up.
“Go on,” he repeated.
It was clear he wanted me to finish. I thought about lying and saying that was it, but he’d see the letter eventually. After all, they were his. “She explained how she knew my Paps would never see the letter, and how she had not been brave enough to reach out since the day at the store. But that writing down about her dying and telling him, made it feel real…” It all came flying out, jumbled, and without my taking a breath.
He motioned to continue with his hand.
“She assured him she’d had love and caring in her life, and her children went on to do as much as any mom would wish. Susie being the one who went on to live a fuller life, marry and have many kids, probably because her life began further away from Milly’s heartache. She told him about the regret she felt over your dad being born so close to her being ripped away from the love of her life. Then it was mostly a lot of gushy stuff. She’d die always loving her Jimmy and would be watching from above.”
“Jeez,” Mack breathed out. “I had no idea she harbored something like this. At least I’m successful and rich and the company is threefold what it was…because I’m certainly not a husband or father.”
“Yet. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. I wasn’t being presumptuous—” In an instant, the frivolity of sharing a burger was long forgotten.
He didn’t speak to my ridiculous statement. He simply said, “Let’s get out of here.”