7. Chapter Seven
Chapter 7
“No way!” Linda shrieked into the phone.
“Way! He’s hot. You’re both there. Alone. Girl, get you some,” Sorcha practically purred. Linda had called her to make sure she’d made it home with no issues. She had. Sorcha grilled her about the day, and Linda confessed to dinner plans with Mason.
“I can’t get involved with him again.” Linda put the phone on speaker so she could use the flat iron on her hair. “Told you. We tried it before. It would be too weird.”
“Come on. How weird can it be? He lives out of a suitcase and seems to be allergic to Illinois. It may be another six years before you see him again.”
True. A heaviness lay on Linda’s heart. Even though Mason had said he was tired of moving so much, until he stopped, she would never be sure. Linda shook her head, knowing Sorcha couldn’t see her. “I’m glad you’re home. I need to let you go so I can finish getting ready.”
“All right, but if you hook up, you have to call me when you get in. If you don’t call tonight, I’ll know you hooked up.”
“You’re going to crash tonight. We were out late last night, and you traveled today. I’m not calling you. Besides, I’m not hooking up with him. That’s impossible.”
Sorcha laughed. “Nothing’s impossible, Lulu. You gotta believe!”
Linda rolled her eyes and hung up. Her roommate was that blessed mix of sass and spunk that kept Linda on her toes.
Twenty minutes later, her hair was done, her makeup was applied, and her nerves were jumping when a knock sounded at the door. She froze in place and took a deep breath. It’s only Mason.
Counting out each step as her feet made their way to the door, she glanced toward the wall of windows facing the Gulf and exhaled, the sight of the blue sky and pink streaks in the clouds calming her down.
“Hi,” she said, opening the door.
Mason had recently showered; his hair was damp, and the top curled slightly. He wore a dark blue polo shirt and tan cargo shorts. Linda worried she had overdressed in her strapless sundress. She wanted to look nice, not for Mason’s sake, but for her own.
Mason whistled, and Linda felt her cheeks warm.
“You look amazing. As always,” Mason said. “Ready to go?”
“Thank you,” she demurred. “I am.”
She grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.
Mason led the way to the elevator. “Do you have a problem if we drive a little way for dinner? It’s such a beautiful evening. I thought a ride in the convertible along the coast was in order.”
So much for straightening my hair. “That sounds great. I love your dad’s convertible. Erin took me for a ride when we were here last fall.”
Mason cut a glance towards her. “Yeah, it’s great.”
Linda wondered what the look was for. Had Erin not told him that the girls had come for a getaway? Had she told him something else?
“How’s Erin doing?” Linda didn’t want to pry, but it seemed like neutral territory.
The elevator door finally opened. “She’s fine. We spoke briefly last week. She was at work.”
“Laurel says Erin works too hard and is always exhausted.” Linda fidgeted with the clasp on her purse; it didn’t want to stay closed when she tucked it under her arm. “Laurel asked Erin to promise her she’d take off the two days leading up to her wedding, so she doesn’t fall asleep during the ceremony.”
Mason rolled his shoulders as he leaned against the wall on the side of the elevator, next to the buttons. “Sounds about right. Erin has a hard time turning down extra shifts at the hospital. I think it’s because of the ridiculous amount she owes on her student loans. She says she won’t get married or start a family with all her debt. I’m thankful that I was able to tackle mine head on.”
The elevator bumped to a stop, and Mason motioned for her to lead. They were in the underground parking garage, and Linda walked towards Mr. Hauser’s convertible. It was a cherry-red two-seater Audi TT. It was a gorgeous vehicle and a lot of fun to ride in. Linda had laughed when she’d first seen Mr. Hauser in it. He had shrugged and said it was the prerequisite midlife-mobile. He said losing his beautiful wife had made him realize life was short, and he wanted to spend more time on enjoying the “little things”—like little red sports cars.
Underway, Linda asked where they were going, but Mason was elusive. Once they were driving along the coast and the air was filling her lungs and making a mess of her hair, she decided she didn’t care where they were going or about her hair. She was going to relax and enjoy the evening. She would focus on the fact that Mason was a childhood friend, not simply an ex-boyfriend who flew the coop.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at Midcoast Inn, a family-friendly seafood restaurant that was built on piers over the Gulf. It had been a favorite place for the families to go when they wanted to get away from the condo and the handful of restaurants in Seaside Bay.
“Wow, I haven’t been here in years,” Linda said, stepping out of the car.
“Oh, yeah? I try to come every time I’m here. They have the best clam chowder. I’ve tried it everywhere, from Maine to Oregon, and there is no comparison.”
“I remember when you refused to try it when we were kids.”
“Yes, Mom thought I would never try. But I finally gave in.”
“You’ve always been stubborn.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged as he opened the door.
Inside the restaurant, Linda glanced at the wooden walls, the fishing nets draped about the room, and the seagull decor everywhere.
Mason asked the receptionist for a table on the outside deck. Seated, Linda looked in her purse for lip balm. Her lips were dry from the wind whipping through the car.
They ordered, and once the waitress brought their drinks, Mason raised his for a toast.
“To reconnecting,” he said.
“To reconnecting and volunteering for Meri,” Linda replied, to remind Mason why they were there.
“Right. Let’s get down to tactics, then we can move on to fun stuff. It’s a twenty-minute drive to the grocery store, and we need to be there at seven.” He paused and glanced at his watch. “Why don’t I knock on your door at six?”
An hour before we have to be there? Is he joking? “Seriously? That early?”
“Well, we have to set up the table and make sure we’re ready to go at seven.”
“How are we getting the table there in your dad’s convertible?”
“Meri said there’s a table there that the store will let us use. We need to ask them to get it out of their break room.”
“Oh, good. I still don’t know that we need that much time.”
“I hate to be late.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
The rays from the setting sun brought out a soft red undertone in his hair color that she didn’t remember being there. Funny what six years did to your memory of someone you’d loved.
She relented. “Fine. Six is fine.”
Planning the early morning start made Linda appreciate working from home even more. She normally rolled out of bed five minutes before she needed to be online for work.
“Great!” He leaned forward and Linda felt herself bracing. “Now. I think we need to do something a little outrageous to get people’s attention at 7 a.m.”
“Outrageous?”
“Yes, we need music or costumes. Something to lure the shoppers to us so we can sell tickets. I want to knock Meri’s socks off with our success.”
“You know this is a volunteer gig, right?”
“Sure. But that doesn’t mean we slack off. We should always give a hundred percent.”
“I didn’t suggest slacking. I just don’t know about costumes. How are we going to pull that off in—” She glanced at the time on her phone. “Ten hours?”
“Good point. Tomorrow will be tough. We need to use what’s on hand. Let me think.” He leaned back, and Linda could tell his foot was tapping from the way his body jiggled.
“I didn’t pack any costumes.” Linda took a sip of her diet cola and looked at the water. The sun would set soon, and she worried it would be chilly sitting outside. She should have grabbed a sweater for her bare arms.
“Wouldn’t expect you to. Maybe we each have something that matches. It’s a blueberry festival. What do you have that’s dark blue?”
“A pair of jeans?”
“Denim. We can work with that. What about a solid blue shirt? Light blue, medium…whatever.”
“Um, no.”
“Well, a plain T-shirt is easy to find. We can stop and find one on our way back tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll wear blue jeans and a blue T-shirt. We’ll coordinate. Now, let’s brainstorm ideas for the rest of the week. We could be blueberry farmers, or blues musicians…”
Linda shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
“No, the idea might be crazy, but I’m not. I’m perfectly normal.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”
“Well…” Mason laughed, that deep, throaty laugh that used to make her toes curl. She glanced down at her feet in the tan sandals. They were curling. Dang it!
“Whatever you come up with, how are we going to find outfits?”
“The thrift store! We could let that be our inspiration. Let’s go shopping tomorrow afternoon and see what we come up with. It’ll be a hoot.”
This is why Linda had loved being around Mason. He was always full of adventure. He never met a stranger or ran from a challenge. Well, except for when he ran from her, when she’d put her heart on the line. The thought took the smile away from her face, and she felt as if someone had punched her in the gut.
“Hey,” Mason leaned towards her and tapped her hand. “Where’d you go there? Don't tell me you’re too good for a thrift store.”
“I love thrifting. It’s not that, I…guess I’m getting hungry.” It was a lame excuse, but she hoped he’d accept it.
“I am, too. What do you say? Thrift tomorrow afternoon?”
“I need to work a few hours midday. Maybe we could go around three?”
“That sounds perfect. Ah!” He looked past her. “Here comes our food.”
The waitress set down Linda’s seafood Alfredo and Mason’s grilled sea bass. “Can I get you anything else?”
Mason looked at her, his eyes wide, waiting. She shook her head, and he glanced at the waitress. “We’re good for now.”
“Do we have a solid enough plan for this week that we can talk about something else?” Linda asked, twirling pasta around her fork.
“Yes, for now. What do you want to talk about next?” Mason spritzed lemon juice across his fish.
“Tell me about work. How is it, starting a new gig every few months and having to pick up and move?”
Linda had been curious about this for a long time. She couldn’t imagine the stress of starting over so often. New city, new apartment, new coworkers. It was a lot of new, and she liked her routine.
“It’s fun. Challenging but fun. I feel energized by the movement. Packing up and moving on is a great way to pause, reflect, and prep for something new.”
“Think you’ll do this for your entire career?” She braced herself for his answer.
Mason looked down quickly and smoothed the napkin on his lap. “No. As fun as it is, I’ve been thinking it’s time to settle into one place. But I’m trying to figure out where. I’ve lived in some amazing places. Chicago is fantastic. Full of interesting architecture, things to do. I loved San Diego. The weather is amazing, though the sun can be a little intense. Maybe I could settle somewhere new for a while. Maybe a smaller city like Des Moines or Indianapolis. Little closer to Dad and my sister.”
Me! Linda felt shocked when the word suddenly popped into her mind, demanding attention. “Why not Peoria or Bloomington? If you want to be closer to your family...”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been running from home for so long, I’m not sure I can go back. You know?”
“No. I don’t know. I’ve always lived within a sixty-mile radius of where I was born. Never lived anywhere else. I’ve only vacationed outside of Illinois.”
“That’s cool, too. If that’s what you want. I’ve always wanted to see everything. Experience everything. Thought about moving to Europe, but it seemed like too much of a hassle. I’ve got a good process down here. Find an apartment or extended-stay hotel within one mile of the hospital I’ll be working at, so I don’t need a car. I can pack or unpack within sixty minutes. When I arrive someplace new, I take a day to study the lay of the land. Bus schedules, train schedules, restaurants, grocery stores. Then I throw myself into work. Taking extra shifts. Figuring out how I can make an impact while I’m there, and then I do what I love. Work for the patients, making sure they’re comfortable, stable, and healing.”
“You love nursing.” Linda took a bite of her heavenly Alfredo.
“I do. Funny how life turns out. Until Mom got sick, I had never considered it. Figured I would follow Dad’s path and become a doctor, like Erin. But nursing is the thing for me. It’s my calling.”
“I think it’s great that you found your calling. I’m still searching for mine.”
“Do you like what you’re doing?”
“I do. I love working for Grady. He’s the best!”
Mason’s forehead pinched together. Linda ignored it.
“The work is interesting,” she continued. “I like problem solving, making sure things get done on time, making sure Grady’s real estate empire is growing.”
“Grady?” Mason asked. “Sounds like you’re close.”
“Sure. We’ve been close. He’s a good friend, a great boss. But I don’t know if it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life. I have a side hustle, and I enjoy the creativity I get to put into it. And I enjoy knowing I’m one hundred percent responsible for the success or failure of my business.”
“What’s your side hustle?” Mason took another roll out of the breadbasket and buttered it.
“I make printables and sell them on Etsy. Like party invitations, budget spreadsheets, packing lists, that sort of thing.”
Mason was nodding. “That’s mighty! Mighty nice.”
She took a bite of creamy goodness. “Thanks. I think so. It’s taken a while for me to find my niche. I’d like to expand it, but I don’t want to expand too soon. Or take on more than I can handle.”
“I can’t imagine that happening. You’re a rock star, Lindy!”
“You don’t know that. I feel like I’m barely keeping it together some days.”
Why did I tell him that?
Mason shook his head. “We all have bad days, but you focus on the good days. I’m sure nine out of ten times you have everything under control.”
She blushed. She did. That’s why Grady was always praising her work ethic. She didn’t like to take risks. Except with hair color. Or clothing choices. But never with Grady’s business or her own.
Why was sitting here, eating dinner with Mason, feeling like a risk? Her inner alert system was suddenly in overdrive. She couldn’t let his charm and enthusiasm win her over again. He would move on soon. He always did. She would not let her heart get wrapped up in his orbit again. Falling to earth and crash-landing after he moved on was too painful.
“How long are you here for before you go to your next town?” she asked.
“Two weeks.”
There you have it. “Huh. We’ll be leaving here about the same time. I fly home on the fourteenth.”
“I will likely leave on the thirteenth.”
“Likely?”
“It depends on where I go next. I haven’t decided.”
That’s the thing—Mason couldn’t decide. It was between Seattle, Washington and Portland, Maine. Which northern coastal town was calling him the loudest? He wasn’t above flipping a coin, and he might have to do that with this decision.
Linda’s gaze dropped, but not before he saw the turbulence in her eyes. If he didn’t know better, he would say she was upset. Whether because he wasn’t coming back to Illinois or for something else, he wasn’t sure.
She mumbled something, and he leaned forward. “I’m sorry?”
“Nothing.” She looked up and smiled, but it seemed forced. “Where might you go?”
“Seattle or Portland. Portland, Maine, not Oregon. I’ve lived there before, so I want to go somewhere new.”
“Wow. I’ve always wanted to see Seattle.”
“You’ve never been?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe that’s where I should go then. Then you’d have an excuse to visit. And a place to stay.” He groaned internally. Why did he throw that out there?
She started to speak but shook her head like she changed her mind about something. “I hear Maine is beautiful.”
“It is. I took a weekend trip there when I lived in Boston.”
He saw her shiver. “Hey, it’s getting cold. I have a sweatshirt in the car. Let me run and get it for you.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’m fine,” she protested.
“Nope. Be right back.”
He jumped up and hurried back through the restaurant. He had to slow to get around a man in a walker, being prodded along by his purple-haired wife. Mason smiled to see the woman’s hair; he could imagine Linda with that bright purple color.
Outside, he dashed to the car and popped the trunk. He was thankful he’d tossed the New York Mets sweatshirt in there earlier. He’d bought it for warmth the previous summer when a mid-July game had turned unseasonably cool.
Back at their table, he handed the sweatshirt to Linda. Her shoulders dropped, and she thanked him before pulling it on. She looked tiny in his shirt.
“Glad it was in the car. It should keep you warm,” he said. Looking at his plate, he realized the rest of the entrée would be too cold to eat now. He tossed his napkin over it.
He noticed Linda had finished eating as well. “Would you like dessert?”
She gave him a half-smile. “Does a bear sleep in the woods?”
“That’s the Linda I know. Always up for dessert.”
“Always. There is a raspberry cheesecake on the menu that sounds divine.”
“Ah, you studied that part of the menu, did you?”
“I start with dessert, then plan my meal.”
“Smart lady. Now, tell me about your parasailing expedition. I want to know more. I’ve never been.”
The waitress swung by, removing plates, and taking dessert orders. Linda gushed about parasailing with her roommate. He studied her while she spoke. He’d hoped to rekindle their friendship, but if he was honest with himself, he’d gladly rekindle more.
He’d wanted to explain why he’d broken up with her and left after college, but now that they were here, he couldn’t. It felt like they were on a boat at sea rather than on a dock next to the Gulf. Things were too rocky to broach the subject now. He needed to reestablish some trust and camaraderie with Linda before bringing up the past. They would spend hours together this week volunteering for Meri. He hoped by the end of the week they would be in a better place for the long-overdue conversation.