You are a weak, spineless worm, a sniveling coward with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. For once, Ellie agreed with her alter ego as she sat at a cozy table in Em’s Hideaway. The kitschy part bookstore, part restaurant included a dozen tables adorned with lacey blue tablecloths and little vases of daisies. At the nearby piano bar, a tuxedoed entertainer was singing a sweet Michael Buble-type version of “I Remember You.” He appeared to be in his late 20s or early 30s and was nice-looking, not in a Gentleman’s Quarterly way but in a real-guy kind of way. She thought of herself as a with-it, 21st-century kind of woman and was surprised to find she rather enjoyed his smooth singing. It certainly beat her date’s yammering by a mile.
And then she listened to the words of the song he was singing so beautifully. It was about recalling an ideal mate, someone who gave love and got it back in boatloads. Ha! Like that’ll ever happen to you. Ah, yes, she could always count on her evil head voice to set things straight. At least Head Voice had a sense of humor. Usually. It didn’t have to tell her the chances of her ever hearing bells and seeing stars and her heart going pitter-patter over anything other than a heart attack or a snake bite were slim to none. Oh, she’d had some really memorable boyfriends, but mostly not in a good way.
Ellie reluctantly tuned the singer out as she tried, really tried, to listen to her date, Gawayne Schmid (“No ‘t,’ he had told her half a dozen times).
“…and I had to take the corporate jet to Heathrow. And then they sent me on the corporate jet to Lima. Have you ever been on a corporate jet, Eleanor? May I call you Eleanor?”
Gawayne looked tall, even sitting down. He was reed thin and angular, but not a bad-looking guy, although he did kind of remind her of Ichabod Crane of headless horseman fame. Or at least how she pictured Ichabod Crane would look. His eyes were an odd shade of gray and kind of creepy in their intensity as he stared at her, ad nauseum, it seemed. In a way, he was a conglomeration of all the blind dates that had gone wrong for her. They had zippo connection, he annoyed her, she wasn’t attracted to him and couldn’t imagine what he could possibly see in her. He had not said one thing she was interested in, and barely gave her time to say anything that might have interested him. She was practically squirming in her seat in her discomfort. If he was looking for a challenge, she must be the answer to his prayers. So that’s probably what attracted him. She almost laughed. She was definitely that. The impossible dream, in fact. He had no idea how challenging she could be.
“I prefer Ellie,” she said, a little too primly. She turned her attention back to the singer, who kind of reminded her of a slightly hairier version of Bradley Cooper. Attractive but not devilishly handsome, although his eyes were a startling shade of dark ocean blue. God, was he the male equivalent of her—the boy next door? All right, now your mind is really wandering. Buck up. It’s just a date. You’re not being nice.
Concentrating, she got out of her head but couldn’t help watching the singer. He was winding up to a big finish, and she was somehow mesmerized by his lips. They were not too fat and not too flat. They were somehow just perfect. Kissable. What?
“Ellie?”
“Huh?”
Gawayne was looking rather annoyed. “I was asking you if you’ve ever been on a corporate jet.”
How could this guy win any legal cases when he was so…so…Now you’re not being fair. You’re not even giving him a chance.
“Uh, no, I don’t think I have.”
He leaned over and gave her a smarmy, leering look, at least that’s what it looked like to her. Icky poo. “Would you like to go to St. Louis with me on Sunday on the corporate jet? I could make it happen. I think you’d really enjoy it.” He patted her hand.
She shifted uncomfortably, feeling like she had a wedgie, and slid her hand from beneath his. “Oh, gee, we don’t really know each other that well, Gawayne. Schmid without the t.” Yeah, that joke went over real big.
“What are you afraid of?”
Stultifying conversation. Terminal boredom. Regretting one more minute of my life. Running amok on a corporate jet. “Um…Missouri. It’s so…so landlocked.” And you’re so pathetic, Ellie Lambert. Please, just shoot me now.
The singer began another song, “The Games People Play.” This one was all about people being false, not saying what they really mean. Ellie shot the entertainer an accusing look, and he looked back innocently, smiling, as he continued to sing. It was probably just a coincidence that his song choice made her feel guilty. She really looked at him this time, noticing his wavy brown hair that was a little too long—Don’t all attractive men have hair that’s a little too long?—those wideset deep blue eyes, square jaw and lips that said “come hither.” She closed her eyes and did her best to tune him out again, both musically and visually, really trying to concentrate on her date.
“Well, it’s not Missouri, exactly…it’s…I don’t want to go, Gawayne. At all.
Gawayne stared at her for a long moment before he spoke. Then he narrowed his eyes and said, “Eleanor, are you frigid?”
The singer laughed as he sang. He actually laughed. He couldn’t help it, she supposed. Now the song was talking about how people make each other cry and break one another’s hearts. Yep, she could identify, and she could swear the singer had her number.
Ellie shot him another suspicious look, but he didn’t make eye contact. Then she looked back at her date. She barely recognized her voice as she said, “Excuse me, Gawayne.” She got up with all the dignity she could muster, passed the piano and felt the singer’s eyes boring holes in the back of her head as she walked to the back of the establishment. She entered the ladies’ rest room, where she splashed some water on her face, breathed deeply a couple times to chase her nausea away and tried unsuccessfully to squeeze through the too-small window. She was going to kill Toni.
As he wrapped up the song, Russell Owens watched her go and figured she wouldn’t be back if she found the back door through the kitchen. It’s one of the things he most enjoyed about entertaining—people watching—and she didn’t disappoint. There was something about her that drew him. Oh, she was attractive, but he’d known lots of attractive and many more beautiful women. This one, however, amused him, too. And intrigued him.
Russell played at Em’s Hideaway on Fridays and Sundays, and he couldn’t help but overhear conversations at nearby tables, even as he sang. But he’d never enjoyed one more than the geeky guy and the pretty girl who was drinking coffee by the bucketful. Her dark blond hair rimmed her face perfectly, falling just below her chin. Her eyes were mesmerizing, kind of emerald green, and she had a sprinkling of freckles that made her look like she should be running through a meadow in a flowy skirt. From what he could see while she was at the table, she had a killer figure, too, although he hadn’t seen her come in, so all he saw was her filmy red blouse through which he could see just the whisper of her bra. It seemed colorless. Could it be red?
Oh, crap. He needed to get a grip. For all he knew, she could be pear shaped and have a giant butt. Nobody was that perfect. He couldn’t really tell until she fled to the restroom. And then, to his delight, he saw that she had a fine derriere. Okay, enough fantasizing, Owens. Time to put a screeching halt to his thoughts right there. He didn’t do intriguing anymore. No exceptions.
Then again, what would it hurt to speculate? Speculation never hurt a soul. What was a good-looking, sexy woman who obviously had a sense of humor doing with such a dork, who obviously didn’t? Maybe he was rich and she was a gold-digger. Yet even gold-diggers had their standards, didn’t they? He just didn’t get it. He had to laugh, though, when she went to the ladies’ room and never came back. He was right about that. So apparently she wasn’t a gold-digger after all. Or she had her limits.
* * *
Two nights later, Ellie and Toni lounged in a bubbling spa with Toni’s husband, Rob Russo, a beautiful, big, quintessential Italian male. He had thick, dark hair and nearly black eyes and a five o’clock shadow at about noon each day. He was vice president of some kind of a business that calibrated the parts for machines that made aluminum foil—the kind of job Ellie hadn’t known even existed before meeting him.
Toni sold real estate and was spectacularly successful at it, even when the economy was down, but it always seemed she was looking for something else. She was definitely a people person, and Ellie thought she would shine in any kind of profession that would enable her to interact with others. Toni was one of the first people she had met when she came to town, stopping at her real estate office to check on rentals after their initial meeting at the gym. The Russos had a buoyant 12-year-old daughter, Maria, and a blatant, hand-grabby love for each other. If she didn’t like them so much, it would be downright annoying.
Situated on the back deck of the Russos’ Spanish-style patio home, the spa overlooked a verdant backyard that included a natural kidney-shaped swimming pool with a fountain and a picturesque gazebo with gorgeous white latticework. Sometimes pictures were deceiving, but not in this case. These dear friends really did have a wonderful life.
Right now, Ellie, however, was practically foaming at the mouth in this idyllic setting. “He chewed ice, clanked his fork on his teeth, was incredibly ogling and condescending and knew how to say ‘corporate jet’ in four languages.”
“That’s it. I’m never hooking you up again,” Toni said indignantly, leaning back as she sipped a little of her Cabernet.
“I want it in writing,” Ellie insisted, “a blood promise that you will never, in the history of the world, fix me up again. I mean it, Toni.”
“It was Toni’s idea,” Rob said. “I thought the guy was a little stiff.”
“A little,” Ellie said, raising an eyebrow. “Toss me a towel, would you, Rob?”
He did, and she dried her hands before picking up her wine glass.
“You’re too picky,” Toni said.
Ellie took a sip, then sighed. “Call me crazy, but I don’t want to start a relationship with somebody who makes me carsick.”
Toni looked at her friend accusingly. “Have you ever been out with someone whom you thought had possibilities? Be honest. You never give a relationship time to grow. He’s too tall. He’s too short. He loves his mother too much. He’s a vegan. He does this. He doesn’t do that. Very few people experience love at first sight. You need to nurture a relationship.”
Ellie moved over so one of the jets hit her back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say. You and Rob have been together forever. Some people are destined to go through life alone, but so what? There are worse things than being alone. I’m not unhappy, Toni. I swear.”
Toni looked at Rob affectionately and then put her arm around him and pulled him close. “I just can’t imagine going through life without this feeling.”
Toni and Rob snuggled warmly, once again exhibiting their great love for each other. Yes, it would be nauseating if Ellie didn’t like these people so much. A flicker of sadness crossed her face, just as quickly replaced by her happy face. Just then, Toni’s dangling earring got caught in Rob’s hair and he yelled.
“Yaaaaaaaaaaa!”
* * *
Across town, in a charming white, two-story, clapboard house in an older neighborhood, Russell Owens, dressed down now in jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt, was also yelling. “Yaaaaaaaaaaa!” He fervently added, “Not my hockey plaque!”
He stood in his old bedroom, which still sported baseball, hockey and “Jurassic Park” posters on the walls and keepsakes ranging from a hockey puck autographed by Wayne Gretzky to a collection of soccer pins from different clubs and a battered guitar. In addition, the room was filled with half-packed boxes on the floor and piles of clothing on the twin beds nearly covering the weathered brown quilts. His mother, Dee Olshevski, 65, a little overweight, but still pretty in that comforting-mama kind of way, and a lot determined, set the plaque aside and placed more items in boxes. Russell grabbed up the plaque and hugged it.
“Sweetheart, I told you,” she smiled, placing a stray black strand of hair, streaked with gray, behind her ear. “You can have anything you want. You just have to take it with you.”
He gave her his most pleading look. “Why do you want to move, Ma? I thought you loved this house.”
Okay, maybe he was being a little petulant or childish or both, and he knew how to dish out the guilt, too, but this was where he grew up. It held his roots. It should have occurred to him that she might move one day, but it never had. It was just a shock. A big shock. He knew change was inevitable. Hell, he embraced change most of the time, but he felt suddenly like he was losing his anchor, even though logically he realized the anchor wasn’t the house. It was her, the one person who loved him no matter what.
“I’d like to keep your old room a shrine for you, dear,” she said, brushing dust off her pink sweat suit, “but I don’t need this big house now that your dad…Well, I thought maybe my grandchildren would be spending the night by this time, but…”
She gave him the “guilt” look, and he realized what an amateur his was at dishing it out. She was the Queen of Guilt, a true pro. Still, he didn’t give up.
“Don’t start, Ma. We’ve been through this a thousand times.”
“Now you’re just exaggerating.”
He smiled. Had he ever won a disagreement with his mother? Probably not.
Dee went back to cleaning out the closet as Russell looked through the boxes she had already packed but hadn’t sealed. Good lord, the award he’d won in 8th grade for perfect attendance. Like not getting sick was an accomplishment. His 6th-grade commendation for playing in a guitar trio. And all his baseball, hockey and soccer ribbons and letters. And the gold tassel from his high-school graduation mortarboard. He didn’t remember saving that. She must have. “Oh, please don’t tell me these are my baby teeth.”
“Ooh, here’s another one,” Dee’s muffled voice came from the back of the closet. She hauled out a dusty old carton and sneezed. “What’s this?”
“Here.”
He moved a pile of clothing and she set it on the bed. Russell pulled off the old packing tape, which practically disintegrated in his hands, and looked inside the carton. “Oh, my God. It’s my comic collection. I almost forgot about this. I started collecting these in about third grade. I loved them.”
Dee picked up and looked at several of the issues, not taking them out of their protective sleeves. “These look to be in pretty good condition; they’re still in the sleeves. You always did take good care of your things, Russ. Maybe these are worth something.”
Russell picked up a comic book, an early issue of X-Men, carefully pulled it out of the sleeve and opened it lovingly. He smiled and shook his head. “They sure were worth something then.”
* * *
The following Sunday afternoon, Ellie and Toni struggled up a steep indoor rock-climbing wall.
Toni gasped. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I said you should take more risks, my friend.”
Ellie found a shaky foothold and painstakingly pulled herself up a notch. Now she really did have a wedgie in her black stretchy shorts. She turned her back to the wall to adjust them. “It looked easier in the brochure.”
“You’re still mad at me about Gawayne, aren’t you? You know my heart was in the right place.” Toni grunted and moaned and dragged herself up one more level. “This is just wrong. Mountains aren’t meant to be inside.”
“Who names their kid Gawayne anyway and expects him to turn out normal?”
“Can we go down now?” Toni huffed. “My thighs are burning.”
“No. That’s a good thing, remember?”
Toni looked down. “Help!”
Ellie grabbed her friend’s line and pulled her closer. “Stop that. Whining doesn’t become you.”
“Hmph.”
They continued their climb at a painstaking pace before Ellie stopped to rest. Yet again.
“I was thinking about something you said the other day. Maybe I am too picky.” She wiped her sleeve across her forehead. “I mean there are uglier women than me who are in good relationships, and dumber women, and poorer women…”
“Stop. You think way too much. You could have a great relationship with somebody if you’d just let yourself.”
“I thought about all the guys I’ve ever dated, and there was really only one I thought, well, that he could have been the one. It was four, almost five years ago, when I lived in Las Vegas.”
Toni struggled up to her level. “You’re kidding me. Quick! Call Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! Who? Who was this paragon of manhood?”
Ellie smiled, remembering. “His name was Brian Morgan. Still is, I suppose.” She snickered. “He was thoughtful, cute, classy, and he had the fluffiest towels I had ever seen.”
“Everything you’d want in a man. And…?”
“And he wasn’t ready to make a commitment, I guess. We’d start to get close and then he’d pull back.” She lost her foothold momentarily and then regained it.
“So you broke up.”
“Yes and no.” Ellie explained that they were never officially going together, just dating. And sleeping together. This went on for about a year, getting closer and then pulling back, and during one of those pulling back times, she decided to move to California. “I just felt like I needed a change, some movement in my life, and I never saw Las Vegas as the place I would end up, although I loved it there. It didn’t seem like a place, for me, at least, to raise a family.”
“See, you don’t want to be alone. You do want a family.”
Yeah, not going there. “I remembered visiting Bella Casa on a family trip out West when I was about 10. My dad had an old Army buddy who lived here. We had so much fun. Everyone was so friendly. I loved the atmosphere, even then, when I shouldn’t have been paying attention to such things.” There was just something about the town. And maybe it was all wrapped up in the memory of such a wonderful, carefree vacation, the last one they’d taken before her father died. “It seemed as good a place to move as any.”
“So you didn’t throw a dart at a map?”
“Nope. I’ll do that for my next move.”
“That was really brave of you to pick up and move by yourself to another state.”
“The scariest part wasn’t moving here.” The logistics kept her mind too busy to think of all the ramifications. “It was suddenly being here and not knowing anybody and not having a job. I did think, what have I done, a time or two. But it worked out. I’d much rather do something and think, ‘What have I done?’ than not do something and think, ‘Why didn’t I do that?’”
“I’m so glad you did.”
“Me, too.”
She found another foothold and dragged herself another foot closer to the top. “Anyway, Brian visited me here for a weekend a couple weeks after I moved…it was before I met you. We were in bed one night and he sat up suddenly, looked at me kind of intensely and said, ‘I think I love you.’”
Toni almost lost her footing, to dangle humiliatingly, but she caught herself at the last moment, scrambling back to the wall. “And you, of course, said ‘I think I love you, too,’ so why didn’t you two live happily ever after? Let me guess. He changed towel brands and the new ones weren’t fluffy enough.”
“I said, ‘You didn’t love me when I lived in the same city with you. You only think you love me now because I’m gone.’”
“What did he say to that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. We said we’d keep in touch, and I visited him once after that, a few months later, but, you know, time moves on. Eventually we just drifted apart. Not that we were really ever together. Officially.”
Maybe Toni never could truly understand. She and Rob were high-school sweethearts, and must have just clicked from the get-go. Most relationships, in Ellie’s experience, were complicated and difficult and messy. She didn’t doubt that her parents loved each other or at least cared for each other a great deal, but for the most part, looking back, it seemed as if they led parallel lives, not one blended life. And then her dad died and it all went to hell.
“Yeah. Tick, tick, tick. It’s just kind of…sad. Wait! Isn’t your comic convention in Las Vegas this year?”
“Yes.”
“You have to look him up!”
What a ridiculous idea. Ellie was about to roll her eyes and forget about it until she saw that her companion was practically drooling. “Toni, that was nearly five years ago. He’s probably long gone or married with eight kids and not the person I remember anyway. I’m not the person I was five years ago. I’m not sure I’m the person I was yesterday.” Yeah, that date with Gawayne really changed you, didn’t it?
“Brian Morgan. That’s a pretty common name. There might be a lot of them in Las Vegas. What’s the population there, anyway?”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I’ll get you all the addresses and phone numbers. We can probably track him down before you leave for the convention, but if not, you can call him when you get there.”
Two little girls, about nine years old, scampered up the wall past the women. Ellie and Toni exchanged looks.
“Twerps,” Ellie said.